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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Note

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

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kvj-novels · 3 years ago

Text

Senku x fem named!reader

Rating: this chapter is A for Adults (minors be warned)

Warnings: this fic has elements of smut and a mention of eating disorders THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN SOME CONTENT WITH THESE WARNINGS - check tags.

Summary: Imogen has been awakened from petrification but she suffers from amnesia upon waking up. Senku and Taiju - her lover and childhood friend (respectively) before the petrification - must do their best to help her recall her past life.

Smut summary: soft sex, first time, no warnings but very NSFW.

Authors Note: I wanna start this off by saying I’m very proud of this piece. But I also want to say I’m sorry if some of the descriptions aren’t top tier as this is my first time writing smut. But I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did while writing it! ;)

Chapter Seven - final chapter

“What are you two up to?” Senku’s voice echoed off the rock as he approached Taiju and I. I sat up and smiled. “He’s telling me about awkward little me and the things I did.” “Oof, hopefully he’s not telling about awkward little me too.” “Only a little bit.” I winked. He chuckled. “Hey, we should change those bandages back at the lookout. Can I steal her away, Taiju?” “Go a head. Do you need help walking down, Imogen?” “I can carry her if she does.” Senku said, taking my hand. “Thank you, Taiju. Let’s do this again tomorrow?” “I’ll come get after breakfast.” He said as we walked off. “Phew, finally sneaking away.” Senku said. “Did you get all your work done?” “Most of it. Right now we’re in the waiting process for it.” He said. “Hey, do you need help? I don’t want your feet to get more cut up with all these rocks.” “Well, I don’t need help, but wouldn’t mind not getting more cuts.” “Perfect. On my back it is then.” He said, squatting down. I hopped up onto his back and he carried me to the small hospital again. “So, how did it go with Taiju?” “He told me a lot. Apparently his family adopted me because my parents went to jail. Taiju is technically my brother and not just a friend.” Senku went to work on my bandages as I told him some of the stories of my past. He intently listened while I spoke, rambling the stories out. I noticed he was smirking at me and I stopped for second. “W-what?” “Nothing. I just...I mean you’re very...” he laughed at himself “you’re really cute when you go off about something interesting to you.” “Oh fuck off.” I laughed as I blushed. He winked. “Don’t tempt me.” He said, finishing off the bandages. He crawled onto the bed top of me, planting a kiss to my neck. I let out a soft moan, biting my lip. He chuckled and got off the bed, sitting at my side to take off the small bandage on my head. “Oh this one healed up nicely. I shouldn’t have to cover it again. Just a bit of tape to keep it together.” He cleaned it and put some tape over it. I sat up when he was finished, sliding hand to the back his head and kissing him. I felt his hand on my hip move up to my waist. “Mm you’re gonna get me in trouble.” He whispered between kisses. “Good.” I said with a smirk. He winked and looked back towards the entrance. “Let’s take this to the bed shall we?” He got up, holding my hand to take me with him. I followed him to the room inside the tower. He shut the door to the hole and locked it. “I’m definitely not getting interrupted this time.” He said with a smirk. I licked my lips, and tugged the hem of my dress up, teasing him by dancing and swinging my hips to an unheard song. He took in the sight, smirk plastered to his lips and hunger in his eyes. I winked and beaconed him closer with my finger. He took the floor in two strides and grabbed my ass as he stepped into my space. I trailed a finger down his chest and grabbed the hem of his shirt when I reached the bottom. Pulling it up, he took the shirt by the collar and ripped it off over his head. I placed a kiss to his collar bone, and he let out a gentle gasp. I smiled and went up on my toes, my lips brushing his ear. “Tell me, have we had sex in the past?” “No.” He whispered. “Have you had sex at all?” I gently bit his ear lobe. “N-no.” He stuttered. “Have you?” “I can’t remember. First for both of us, what do you say?” He shook his, turning to look at me. Placing an arm around my waist he kissed me deeply. Then without warning he pulled the rope belt off my waist and tugged the shirt down off my shoulders. It feel to my feet. He took in the sight of my body, completely naked in front of him. “Damn...” “Your turn.” I winked. He kicked off his shoes and quickly tossed his pants aside. I came up behind him and kissed his shoulder blade, wrapping my arms around his waist and snaking a hand a little further down until I reached his erection. He shuddered a bit when I took it in my hand. “I don’t suppose you’ve made condoms yet?” I asked. “Oof. Not yet.” He turned to face me. “Should we wait until I can?” I put a finger over his lips. “No.” I whispered. “Just pull out, okay?” He shook his head and I kissed him, reaching down for his dick again. He let out a moan and threw his head back a bit when I stroked the shaft. His dick was throbbing, I could feel it twitch in my hand. I went down to my knees and kissed the tip before taking it in my mouth. He tangled a hand into my hair and I looked up to check if he was still okay. He was watching with eager eyes so I took him further into my mouth before pulling it out to the tip and releasing it with a pop. I winked before turning my full attention to eager cock in front of me. Taking it in my mouth again, I went as deep as I could, spurred on by Senku’s groan. I held the base of his shaft with my hand and pleasured his cock, pushing it into my cheek, going all the way down, teasing the tip. All the while he held my hair, tugging when he reached a high or coaxing me to go deeper. When I focused on the tip he shuddered. “W-wait, wait I’m gonna come.” He said. I took him out of mouth and smirked. “Not yet.” I said. I hopped onto the bed and he followed me over. “My turn,” he said, taking my knees and spreading them wide. He got to his knees on the floor and flicked his tongue at my clitoris, keeping his eyes on me. “Go for it.” I smirked. He pushed into my dripping lips. I threw my head back as he lapped at the warmth. A moan escaped my lips and he got a little more comfortable, gripping my hips with one hand and slipping a finger into my pussy with the other. I rocked my hips up as he fingered my pussy and sucked at my cum. My clit found it’s way into his mouth and I bucked up. He chuckled, holding onto my ass and stimulating my clit with his tongue. I groaned, “P-please,” a whimper fell out of lips and I moaned. He released my pussy and crawled onto the bed between my legs. He lined up his dick and slammed it in as far as he could. “Oh, fuck!” I cried out with a moan, gripping at his back and leaving scratches. “S-sorry.” He whispered. “I got a bit excited.” I chuckled, “don’t be.” He started to thrust, slow and long at first, taking in every inch of my body with gentle kisses. I closed my eyes, rocking my hips to his thrusts and reaching up to grab his hair which had fallen down and was half covering his face. “Faster.” I whispered. He obeyed and picked up his speed, the floor creaked with each rock of the bed. I moaned feeling my walls tighten. He let out a groan followed by a swear. “Oh, fuck, Imogen.” His balls smacked into my ass as he continued, going harder with the rise of the climax. “I-I’m close.” I whispered. “Ffuck me too.” “Pull out when you need to.” He managed a little longer, enjoying the pace we maxed out at. I threw my head back into the blanket on the bed, my release came a moment later and Senku pulled out. He pushed my legs shut and slammed his cock between them, riding out his climax between my thighs. His cum landed on my stomach and tits. He flopped onto the bed beside me and let out a content sigh. “Holy fuck.” He breathed. “That was fun,” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He smirked. “I agree.” “Where’s your shower? I’m gonna need to wash this off.” I laughed. “Oops.” He said with a wink. “Fraid o don’t have any showers in here. We’ll have to run to the river quick. The only showers are in the village.” “You down for some skinny dipping then?” I sat up and grabbed his shirt that I was wearing. He chuckled. “You bet.” He said, grabbing his pants and two towels. We carefully made our way through the forest to the river, it was much easier this time now that I had shoes too. We broke through the trees and I tossed my dress off. “Catch me if you can!” I stuck my tongue out and ran towards the water. “Hey-wha-thats not fair!” He said, hurrying to strip off his pants and run after me. I kicked my shoes off by the water and ran into the river up to my hips. Senku caught up to me, grabbed me by the waist and spun me around. We both fell into the water when he misstepped. I came up laughing and splashed him. he splashed back even harder. We both settled down after a fit of laughter. The water felt amazing during the mid day heat and I sunk into it up to my shoulders. Senku was smiling while he watched me. “Hm?”

He tossed his head to the right to sweep some hair out of his face. “I forgot that life with you is absolutely exhilarating.” He said with a grin.

********

Tag list: @viskafrer @bee-cakes @potatochic2003 @gxldenhunny @cheesey-fox @guijh103 Please DM me if you would like to be added to the tag list!

#smut #senku smut #senku x reader #senku x fem #taiju oki #dr stone fanfic #dr stone #fanfic #one shots

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manndo · 4 years ago

Text

i see you [din djarin x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader (no descriptors, no y/n)

warning[s]: slight angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal (barley there & nothing really descriptive) and ridiculously canon divergent (see notes).

word count: 4.0k

prompt[s]: from this list, based off the prompt ‘overhearing they have feelings for you’

summary: you just wanted to tell the child a bedtime story, and apparently, you had something you needed to get off your chest. but you weren’t aware you had an audience besides the child.

author’s notes: alright, for the last day of 2020 (i’m still in 2020 over here, unfortunately), i’ve decided to take a leap of faith and post my first mandalorian fic! i started writing this before episode 13 of season 2, before we learned the child’s name and way before the separation (i am still recovering from the emotional strain of this ending). and obviously, i didn’t finish it until now -- almost two weeks after the last episode. so, as i mentioned in my warnings, this is canon divergent -- basically anything from episode 13 to 16 did not happen in this fic. so, this means that grogu is referred to as the child/the little one/the kid in this fic. in the future, i am hoping to write more canon friendly fics, but who knows?? the season finale was bittersweet and honestly?? i just want my dad/son duo back together. 😢but anyway! any and all mistakes are my own. please feel free to comment/like/reblog, whatever you see fit. enjoy! ❤️and goodbye 2020, hello 2021! 🍻

You were tinkering with a malfunctioning blaster down in the hull when you heard him. At first, the cry was soft, barely there — perhaps Mando had said or done something to irritated him while they sat in the cockpit together. However, after another few moments, the cries grew louder and longer. Carefully, you set the blaster aside, and wiped your hands on the cloth next to you before pushing yourself off from your seated position on Mando’s bunk. Within seconds, you were climbing the ladder and entering the cockpit to find Mando standing from his seat, holding the child away from him as the child wailed. Immediately, Mando lifted his head toward you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his modulated voice. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare he was giving you.

You sighed heavily, shaking your head, and took two steps forward to grab the child from Mando’s outstretched arms. Unfortunately, the child did not stop his crying. You tucked him against you. “Technically, yes. That’s what you hired me for, but you know this little one has his ways of sneaking around,” you muttered, reaching out to grab the little one’s tiny hand. Even through his wailing, the little one’s finger immediately wrapped around your thumb. You hummed soothingly and began to gently bounce him, keeping your eyes trained on him. “And, it wasn’t like you were complaining ten minutes ago when he was being a perfect little angel,” you mumbled, rubbing your thumb gently over the little one’s finger and looked up to Mando. Mando snorted, but said nothing as he sat himself back down in the pilot’s chair, and turned himself away from you. You knew he didn’t need to be there — the Crest was in hyperdrive and most likely on autopilot — but, you found he preferred it to other parts of the ship. Then again, when you’re always on guard like him, well, it made sense to be in the cockpit.

“He’s probably just tired, Mando,” you said, glancing away from him and back to the child, who was, thank the Maker, not wailing anymore. However, he was still crying, still taking in big breaths and looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. “Just needs a little nap. Ain’t that right, little one?” The child gave you a sniffle, and hung his head. “Come on,” you said quietly, giving the child’s finger a little squeeze, “let’s get you tucked in.”

You turned on your heel, and carefully made your way down to the hull once more, all the while whispering comforting words to the child in hopes to quell his cries. It seemed to work — for the most part. He still seemed upset, even if he wasn’t really crying anymore. More like, sniffles and whines. But, he was still restless against you. Even if he was overtired, it was clear he wasn’t too keen on actually being put down because the moment you had set him into the makeshift, hanging bed that Mando had crafted for him, he tried to pull himself out. “Ah, ah, little one, don’t you even think about it,” you reprimanded him softly, pushing him gently back down into the swinging bed. He let a small whine in disagreement, but didn’t try moving again.

“Maybe I should tell you a story,” you said, your voice low, calm. He blinked at you, his eyes still looking a little watery, and gave you another small whine. You began to rock the bed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve really told you any stories since I came on this ship,” you said, reaching up and running a finger over his ear, from base to tip. He made a small coo of happiness, and you smiled. “Granted, it hasn’t been that long since your dad hired me, has it?” You’d only been traveling with them for six months, give or take. You still sometimes had to, metaphorically, pinch yourself that this was your life now — galavanting around the galaxy with a Mandalorian and his charge.

You felt a small push against your finger, which had been resting on the tip of the child’s ear, followed by a small whine. You let out a short chuckle, and moved your finger, running it over his ear again. He leaned into the touch. “You know, the first time I saw you and your dad, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never met a Mandalorian before, but I knew of them, knew the stories of them. Who hadn’t?” You moved your hand from running to over his ear, to the top of his head. He cooed softy, eyes fluttering closed. “But, what surprised me the most was you, little one. Not because I had never seen creature like you. No, that wasn’t it. It was because you were with him. A Mandalorian and a child,” you whispered, noticing that the little one’s eyes were only half open now. You gave the top of his head a small scratch, and his eyes closed completely. “Even if you are older than both of us,” you added, a small chuckle escaping your lips as his eyes opened again, a bit slower than last time.

“It’s funny,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on him. You watched as he snuggled himself a little deeper into his bed. “I never would have thought that one minute, I’d be fixing a blaster your dad needed repaired, then the next being on his ship, taking care of you.” A brief pause. “You know, he saved me, little one?” You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed it. “Life hadn’t been easy when you two came around. Sure, I had a roof over my head and enough credits to keep me fed. But, it had been a lonely life.”

You took a deep breath. “My parents had been gone for a few years, and I had no siblings to seek comfort in. I worked for a nasty man, who liked to belittle me every chance he got, even if I was a better technician than he was. I had a few acquaintances, a few people I’d chat with every once in a while, maybe grab a drink with them at a cantina, but I didn’t have any real friends,” you paused. “Well, I did. At one point. But, things happen.” A heavy, dejected sigh escaped your lips. “People change. Life changes.” Absentmindedly, you ran your finger down the child’s cheek. His eyes were now half-open, the child hell bent on staying awake. Stubborn, like his father for sure. “But, now I’m here. And, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” You pursed your lips in thought. “Well, it would be nice to have a larger, more comfortable bed. But, then I wouldn’t have you, and I wouldn’t have your dad.” The little one cooed quietly, and you chuckled pulling your finger from his cheek.

You became silent then, let yourself just watch the little one. He was settling nicely into his bed, looking more relaxed, his eyes staying closed. It should have only been a few more moments, and he’d be asleep. Just a few more moments and he’d be resting peacefully, and you could go back to working on that blaster. Just a few more minutes.

“I love him, you know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. It was only when you heard the little one coo that you realized that you’d said that out loud. Your eyes widened as you took in the little one, his own eyes now open once more. He was looking at you, head titled slightly, big brown eyes focused on you. He blinked once, twice as if he was waiting for you to elaborate.

Fuck, you hadn’t planned to say that out loud. But you had — to the little one, no less. Sure, he couldn’t tell Mando what you’d said, so that was an advantage. But, Maker, what were you thinking?

You had only just admitted to yourself you were in love with the Mandalorian. You had spent weeks denying your feelings. After all, you hadn’t known each other long, there was no way you were actually in love with him. It had to be, you figured, because of your living situation — you two were in constant contact with each other, barely any room for privacy or time alone. He was the only person you could hold a full conversation with (not that you didn’t have conversations with the child, but it was very one-sided). So, maybe, it was just the situation. It had to be. But, as the days passed by, you realized that wasn’t the case. You had fallen for the Mandalorian. You were in love with him. You were in love with Mando.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and let your head fall into your hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that, little one,” you said, the words slightly mumbled against your palms. “Nobody was supposed to hear that. And, especially not your dad — not that I don’t want him to know, I do. But, we haven’t been together long — in the sense of me being on the ship, you know — and I fear it will make him distant again. He was so distant when I first came aboard, but now.” You let out another heavy sigh, and move your hands away from your face to glance up at the little one. He has pulled himself up to look over the edge of his makeshift bed, his tired eyes looking down at you. There is a sad look up on his face, his large eyes searching yours. “I don’t know exactly how he feels, little one. But, I’ve seen his heart. You’ve seen his heart.” You paused and took a breath. “It’s in the little things. The way he sits with you when he flies. How he tries to teach you things — even if they backfire in his face,” you said, and a smile crossed your lips. The child gave a small tired little giggle. “Making this bed for you,” you said softly, reaching up and running your fingers over the material. “Making your little pouch. All those things, and more, show me his heart, show us his heart.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead gently against the child’s. “He would do anything to keep you safe, little one. Anything. And that, makes him a good man.” The child let out a soft sound, and you pulled away from him, a soft smile on your lips.

There was a brief silence that settled between you. You let it hang in the air for a brief moment before speaking again. “Alright, come on, you need to go to sleep now. Apparently, trying to tell you a bedtime story is not the way I should go,” you said with a small chuckle. The child gave a small whine. “Don’t try and fight with me. We both know you’re tired. So come on, close those big, beautiful eyes,” you said, your voice dropping in volume. His eyes fluttered closed, and you reached out your fingers, letting it brush against his tiny hand. “There you go,” you muttered, continuing to brush his little hand with your finger in a soothing gesture. His eyes stayed closed, and his body seemed to relax into his bed. Another few moments, and his breathing had evened out, and you knew he was finally asleep. You let out a small sigh of relief. “Sleep well, little one,” you whispered, and with on final brush to his hand, you stood up from the bunk. You pressed the switch, shutting the bunks door with a small clink. You had barely turned away from the door when you heard a loud thunk, and found yourself coming face to face with Mando.

“Maker!” you yelped, practically jumping out of your skin, hand slapping against your chest. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you looked at Mando with wide eyes. “Mando,” you said, voice slightly out breath as you pressed your hand a little harder to your chest, physically and mentally willing your heart to slow down. “You can’t — fuck, you scared me. You’re lucky I closed the damn door before you did that. What if he’d woken up? I had a devil of a time getting him to sleep, you know,” you muttered, hand falling from your chest and back to your side.

“Did you now?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tinny voice. You furrowed your brow, as he took another step closer to you, his beskar helmet only a few inches away from your face. He titled his helmet, and you could swear, if he didn’t have it on, there would be a smirk on his face. You felt a twinge of panic fill your face — had he, had he heard you? You mentally shook your head of that thought. You were being paranoid.

“I did,” you huffed as you turned away from him, taking a step toward where you had left the malfunctioning blaster.

“Maybe if you hadn’t talked so much,” he muttered, and you felt your entire body freeze, “he might have fallen asleep faster.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Blood was rushing in your ears. Maker, he heard you. He heard you blabbing your feelings, you feelings for him, to the little one. The quick landing, the sarcasm you had heard— it all made sense. He had been there, above the two of you, listening, hearing every word you said. Your confession. You felt yourself begin to get warm with embarrassment, and you willed your body to move. You wanted to run, but where could you run? You were on a ship, in the middle of space — there was no where to go. Nowhere to hide.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breathe before you slowly turned back to face Mando. You didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was staring at you, but Maker, did you wish you could see them. Wish you could see his face. Maybe then you could tell what he was thinking. Did he feel something too? Or, was he disgusted at the thought of you having feelings? Was he about to dismiss your feelings, maybe even drop you off at the next inhabited planet, leaving you there. Leaving you alone, again. No Mando, no kid. You swallowed that fear, those thoughts. “Listen, Mando, I—”

“Close your eyes.”

You blinked in confusion. “W—what?

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then, close your eyes. And, promise me, you won’t open them.” You blinked, too stunned at his request to answer immediately. His gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, a barely there touched. “Promise me.” It should have been a demand, but it came out more as a desperate plea.

You looked down at the hand gently holding your wrist, then back at the beskar helmet in front of you. “Yea,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, “I promise. I promise,” you repeated. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you moved before you took a slow, deep breath and let your eyes fall closed.

You felt Mando let go of your wrist before you heard a clicking sound, followed by a soft hiss. It was followed by a loud clink of metal against the floor of the ship, near your feet, you thought. Then, there was a gloved hand on your cheek, the fabric rough against your skin. You felt the brush of his thumb over your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Mando, what are—”

The end of your question was gently swallowed by his lips.

Maker, you had not expected this. Immediately, you had wanted to open your eyes, because you weren’t sure this was real. Was he — was Mando really kissing you? But, he was kissing you. His soft lips were pressed against yours, not bruising, but not gentle either, and it didn’t take long before you felt his tongue swipe across the seam of your lips, seeking permission. You parted your lips with ease.

At the first slide of his tongue against yours, a small whimper escaped your lips, your hand darting out as you blindly grabbed at his shoulder. You fisted as much of the material of his undershirt in your hand while the other part pressed against the cool beskar, and tugged, pulling him flush against you. You felt, more than heard, him groan when your bodies met, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your jaw while his other arm wrapped around your middle, holding you against him. You could feel warmth spreading in your limbs, and an excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time filling your veins and culminating between your legs.

You would have kept kissing him, would have let yourself suffocate in his kisses, but a few seconds later, you felt him begin to pull away. Before his lips could leave yours completely, you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a quick nip. And, fuck, the sound that came out of his mouth. You felt another spike of arousal course through you, and you almost, almost opened your eyes. But, you promised you wouldn’t, and you knew what it meant if you did. So, you forced yourself to keep them closed as you tried to regain control of yourself, your hand still clutching his shoulder.

There’s a moment where the two of you stand there, your breath mingling with one another as you both tried to calm your racing hearts. But, it is brief, and before you know it, the hand that was resting on your cheek falls, and the arm around your waist loosens and you feel him step away. Immediately, you want to pull him back to you, bring his lips back to yours. But, you don’t. You’re frozen once more — in fear, in shock, in elation, you’re not quite sure.

You took a shuddering breath. “Mando—”

“Din,” you hear him say, and it sounds pure, smooth. It’s then you realize the helmet is still off. You can’t help the butterflies that form in your stomach at the sound of his unmodulated voice. His voice. It sounds like liquid gold to your ears. But then ,you hear the sounds you heard before he kissed you, the click and hiss, of the helmet falling back into place.

You wait a beat before you let your eyes flutter open, and you come face to face with the beskar helmet once more.

“Din Djarin,” he repeated, and reached out, brushing one of his gloved fingers down your cheek, over your jaw, and stopping at the nape of your neck. “My name is Din Djarin.”

His finger began to draw an absentminded pattern across your shoulder. You could tell by the tilt of his head that his eyes were focused on that finger. That finger that kept moving as the moments ticked by, never stopping, never making any sense against your skin. For the first time since you’d met him, you could tell he was nervous.

You knew he didn’t tell his name to anyone. You had asked when you’d met him what his name was. He had told you to call him Mando. You had thought it odd, but did not think it was your place to push him (you had only just met him, after all). So, you called him Mando, as did everyone else you had come in contact with. But, four months later, you decided to finally push the subject. He told you that he had not used his birth name since he was a child, since he was sworn into the Creed. There were only a few who knew name, and only due to an extenuating circumstance, he had said, making it clear he did not tell anyone. Nobody should have known his name — and from what you could tell, he had no plans of telling any one in the future.

But, here he was, standing in front of you, telling you his name. Willingly giving you this piece of information about himself. You knew he couldn’t show you his face — not yet, not now — but he could give you this. He could give you this part of himself. If the kiss wasn’t enough for you to know that he felt something for you, this sealed the deal. It wasn’t an outright “I love you”, but to you, it was something more, something deeper than that. This was him trusting you, him giving you a part of himself. It filled your heart with joy.

“Din,” you whispered, letting the name roll of your tongue, and filling the space around you. His finger had stopped its’ random movements, and his head tilted up, and you were face to face with the all too familiar beskar helmet. You smiled softly and wondered if he was smiling behind it too. You reached out, and let your fingertips dance over the cool metal. “Din Djarin,” you said, letting yourself try out his full name.

It was beautiful. It was him.

“It suits you,” you said, resting your palm against the side of his helmet. “I love it.”

Din let out a small, breathy, modulated chuckle. “You do?”

You nodded. “I do, cause it’s you.” You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet, your eyes fall closed. “And, I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. You wished you could have seen his face, but instead, you heard an intake of breath before you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, hand splayed over your hip. His gloved fingers pressed into your hip bone.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed and nodded, letting your free hand fall onto his chest, right over his heart. You couldn’t feel his heart under the beskar chest plate, but you imagined it was beating rapidly, just like yours. “I do.” Perhaps, it was too early to say such things, to declare that you loved him. Most people might think you were crazy, and maybe you were, but that didn’t matter. You loved him — you loved Din.

“Even without,” he paused, and you heard him take a breath. You let your eyes fuller open, and you pulled back a hair, just enough to be able to take him in. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about — even without seeing his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, making sure his he was paying attention to you. “I don’t need to see your face.”

You heard a small, disbelieving chuckle. “Don’t need to see my face, eh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You tilted your head in thought. “Well, I mean, do I want to see your face? Absolutely.” You moved your fingers across the cheek of his helmet, to the visor, letting it trace the T-shape. “I want to see the color of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The wrinkles and lines on your face. All of it.” You let your finger come to rest at the bottom of his helmet, just on the rim. You ran your finger over the smooth metal. “But, I know what that means for you, and I’m willing to wait for that. Your face is your face, and I’m sure it is a handsome face.” Another small chuckle escaped Din’s lips. “But, I don’t need to see it to know what I feel in my heart, Din.”

“You don’t?” He sounded surprised,

You shook your head. “I don’t. Because, I’ve seen you, Din Djarin,” you said, your voice filled with conviction as you looked at him straight on, right where his eyes would be behind that beskar helmet. “I’ve seen you.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #my writing

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buckybabybaby · 3 years ago

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Birthday Wish (Part 2)

A/n: As promised, part 2 to last years Bucky smut to celebrate this blog turning 4 last Thursday! (And me turning 28...) Two people on AO3 requested this and apparently I'm a people pleaser, so here's your update, 1 year later!

If you're not over 18 please don't read.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Female)

Word count: 2822

Warnings: 18 + Smut. Oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, Bucky has a big ****, all the good stuff ;)

Plot: part 2 to Bucky finding your fan blog, even more rewards for the birthday girl

Part 1

(This 2nd part probably won't make complete sense on it's own, smut is smut but there's a tiny bit of plot)

Birthday Masterlist – the other fics I've written on my birthday in the past 4 years are all here

Main Masterlist

*****

“Bucky?” You push weakly at his chest to get his attention. “Where you serious about that date? This isn't just because it's my birthday, is it?”

Bucky's mouth pauses in its decent down your neck as he pulls away to look at you questioningly. You can't help your doubts, not now you're no longer so fuzzy-headed, the reality of what has, and still is happening, too much to process as his warm body presses against yours distractingly.

“What do you mean?” He asks, running a comforting hand up your arm.

You want so much to just ignore your uncertainties and let this against-the-bedroom-door-make-out continue, as even with your damp underwear and friction burned thighs, there is no taking away from how painfully romantic this moment could be.

If only you were sure of his feelings.

“This isn't some pity thing, is it? Because I don't want that. If that's all this is going to be, please tell me now before it goes any further.”

“I said I like you didn't I?”

“Technically, no.”

“Oh.” Bucky's face falls and you hate that you've caused it. “M'sorry. I should have made it clear from the start; this is not because its your birthday, its because its you. This has been a long time coming, I guess this forced isolation just heighten everything and that’s why I made a move earlier today.”

“Really?”

He nods so rapidly it makes you giggle. “I swear. I wish I was better at expressing myself so you'd know how much I mean it.”

“Sometimes we don't need words,” You reassure him, curling a hand into his hair to pull his lips against yours once more, letting him take the lead as you sink back into the feeling, moving his hands to your shirts buttons when he hesitates for too long.

“I'll prove it to you, Y/N,” He mumbles against your mouth, retracing his path back down as he busies himself with opening up your blouse. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Tipping your head back to rest against the door, your eyes close on their own, overwhelmed once again by how well you seem to fit together.

“Is this how you always dress?” He asks, referring to your lack of bra as his hands skim across your breasts.

You hum. “I don't remember the last time I got dressed properly.”

“Shit,” He breathes against the swell of your chest, “If I'd known...”

Your self satisfied laugh gets caught in your throat as he suddenly drops to his knees before you, one hand propping your right leg over his shoulder whilst his other holds you tight to keep your balance. His soft hair brushes your tummy, and you fight to keep your breathing from becoming erratic when he peers up at you, looking so submissive even though he's definitely the one in charge right now.

Bucky tugs at your soaked panties. “Let's get these out the way, yeah?”

Pressing his lips into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, he gives you a moment to catch up to his plan.

“What if I fall?”

“I won't let you.”

It's so easy to believe him when your body is almost buzzing in anticipation. The moment you give permission, your panties are ripped at both edges and pulled away from the sticky mess of your centre, your shriek of protest making Bucky grin, hard.

“Hey! I liked those!”

“I'll buy you more,” He promises, spreading your legs a little further to get better access. “Besides, your blog said you would like that.”

Whimpering, you realise this is all your own fault. A second later, however, your ruined underwear is the last thought on your mind when his lips finds your core and his tongue licks a long line up through your slick.

“Fuck, knew you'd taste good.”

You can't answer. Bucky doesn't waste any more time speaking, putting his mouth to better use between you legs, finding your clit in no time and sucking on it until you see stars. He's an expert at making you shake in pleasure, something you'd never doubted and in fact wrote quite extensively about, but it's nice to be proven right.

More than nice, actually. You're still sore from his thigh, responsive in the best way, and he's quickly building you up to another high as he eats you out like a starved man. The heat swirls in your tummy, your own mouth dry as you pull on his hair to warn him you're close.

Bucky can tell. You can feel his smirk as he doubles his efforts, his own little moans vibrating into you as the hand holding your thigh moves to join his mouth in wrecking you for anyone else.

The instant his fingers push inside you're gone. The stretch makes you cry out, curling into his hold, your whole body being supported by Bucky while you shake through your orgasm. Tears form in the corner of your eyes as he slows down but doesn't stop his movements to guide you through it, letting up just as the pleasure turns sharp.

Slumping back against the door out of breathe, you try to rest your weight back on your own legs, failing miserably when your limbs are still so shaky. Bucky coos sympathetically, rising back up and taking you fully into his arms, your legs naturally wrapping themselves around his middle.

“You're so fucking hot.” It's said in a mutter before he makes you taste yourself on his tongue.

The passion behind his kiss is shocking, despite the two orgasms he wrung out of you. In this position you can again feel his erection, still constrained in his tracksuit, and even before you've fully caught your breath you're trying to wriggle your way out of his hold to help him out.

He sets you down with a puzzled smile. “What do you want?”

“You. Inside me.”

There's no use trying to be coy when he's seen you at your most vulnerable. Bucky chokes at your brazenness, smile growing wide as he drags you with him towards his bed, peeling your blouse off your arms before lying you gently across the sheets.

Fully naked in front of him for the first time, your instinct is to cover up but he stops you, hands catching your wrists and pressing them back to your sides.

“Keep them there, okay?”

You nod mutely, watching spellbound as he stands at the foot of the bed and finally starts to strip. His sweatshirt comes off first, thrown to the carpet somewhere to be dealt with later, and then the bottoms are gone too, leaving him in just his briefs, bulging at the front and visibly stained.

You reach out a hand before you know what you're doing. “You wanna help, pretty girl?”

“Please,” You beg, sitting back up to perch on the edge of the bed and blink slowly up at him, letting your fingers graze just above the elastic of his underwear. Teasing for a second or two to keep him on his toes, you wait until just as it looks like he's about to snap to pull at the band and let the fabric fall down and off his legs.

“Fuck,” You both say at the same time.

He's big, bigger that you'd thought, and you have thought about it a lot. If he's uncomfortable under you're wide-eyed scrutiny he doesn't show it, just lets you stare until you've had your fill.

“That's not gonna fit.”

Your voice breaks as you fail to hide your fear, only glancing away briefly to send a worried look Bucky's way.

“It's all right, doll,” He whispers, the shadow of a smirk gracing his face as he guides your hand to his cock and encourages you to wrap your fingers around his length. “We'll make it.”

The warm weight under your palm distracts you effectively, and you enjoy the power it gives you over this normally unbreakable man, collecting the precum leaking out of the tip you work to set up a steady rhythm. He's impatient, thrusting in to your grip until he can't take it any more.

“Stop, stop. Or this will be over before it's begun.”

You're surprised, you didn't think you had done much yet, but he seems pretty affected if the tremble of his hands pushing yours away are anything to go by.

Closing his eyes to gather himself, he steps away momentarily to dig something out of his wardrobe, laughing quietly at your pout when he returns.

“M'not going anywhere pretty girl.” Bucky taps a square package against your pursed lips, making you gasp in realisation. “I just thought we might need one of these?”

He drops it onto the bed by your side in invitation for you to take the lead. Picking it up, you quash the nerves threatening to come back, instead concentrating on ripping the side open carefully and placing the condom at the end of his cock just as a question flits through your mind.

“Wait. Why do you have this? Did you plan-”

“No, Y/N,” He rushes to clear up. “Sam put them in my bag as a joke, seems I'll have to thank him for it now instead, huh?”

You don't answer, but silently agree as you finish rolling the rubber down his length. Now there's no pretending where this is going. Sensing your hesitation, Bucky leans in to kiss you again, lowering you back against the bed sheets while he explores your mouth and waits until he can feel you relax.

Placing one last peck to your lips, he settles, stood, at the perfect height in between your legs. “Ready?”

“Uh huh.”

“We'll go as slow as you need, okay?”

Smiling up at him, you help him swipe his cock through you folds, eliciting a joint inhale, before he finds your entrance and starts to push in.

If he looked big, it's nothing to how he feels. Your fingers scramble across the sheets to ground yourself, so full you think you might burst, and he's not even halfway in.

“Breathe for me, Y/N.”

His whole body is tense against yours as you try your best to do as he says, breathing in unsteadily. When your eyes meet you nod, and he continues the slow slide inside of you until your hips meet when he's fully sheathed.

“There we go, told you you'd be fine.”

You laugh weakly. “M'being split in two.”

On anyone else that smug look would be off putting but with Bucky, it's just makes you roll your eyes fondly. His hands smooth across your waist as he lets you get used to the feeling, staying still even though you can see it must be torture, and that makes you determined to relax for him, the slight sting where you're joined fading with every murmured praise.

A minute ticks by before Bucky clears his throat.

“This is called cock warming, right? Read about that on your blog too.”

He speaks so casually and you clench around him in shock. You hadn't even considered that that was what you were doing but you suppose he's right, kind of, and with the way he looks as he struggles not to move you'd be more than happy to try it properly in the future.

There's nothing prettier than the flush spreading across his cheeks as his chest heaves.

Still feeling full, but deliciously so now, you urge him to move with a shift of your hips. His own roll in to yours experimentally, and when you show no signs of pain he does it again, this time drawing a small moan out of you.

“Knew you'd be good at this too,” He confesses with a harder thrust, checking you reaction as he increases his pace. “Fucking made for me.”

You can't disagree when you fit together like a puzzle. Letting him take complete control, he doesn't disappoint, swiftly lifting one leg to rest over his shoulder like earlier and finding the perfect angle after only a few trial strokes, leaving you grabbing at the sheets once more.

It doesn't take long for you to get close again. Never letting up on hitting all the right spots inside you, it's like he already knows your body so well, and you're in heaven as the pressure builds up.

“Look at where we're joined.”

You obey immediately, watching mesmerised at the wetness shining on his cock, at the way it forces your body to open up to him, at the obscenity of how big he looks pushing his way in and out of you.

“Pretty girl's gonna cum again, yeah?”

It's not a question but a demand. You hum in affirmation, too far gone to form actual sentences, only just about able to untangle one of your hands from the sheets and press two fingers against your clit.

“I-I need-”

“Let me.”

Your hand is swatted away, replaced by his, rubbing circles over your clit whilst you try to not scream. It's too much, all your senses are heightened, and with one final thrust you're falling over the edge, clenching around his cock so tightly you'd be worried about hurting him if you weren't completely lost in the feeling.

Bucky doesn't last much longer either. His thrusts slow into a sort of filthy grind of his hips into yours, and then he's pulling you up by the waist to be as far inside you as possible before letting himself go with a loud groan. Echoing that noise with one of your own, you allow him to half collapse on top of you to ride out the high, still moving in and out of you minutely, prolonging the orgasm for all that its worth.

You stay joined together like that until the aftershocks have worn off and you have enough strength to tug him fully down on to you. Protesting, he stands back up and pulls out of you gently with a grunt, discarding the condom in the general direction of the bathroom bin, then crawls back up the bed to take you in his arms, laying face to face as you catch your breath.

Shy now, you hide your face in his chest, tracing patterns over his skin with a content smile. He moves the hair covering your face aside, chuckling silently when he realises the plastic tiara is still sitting atop it, slightly askew but otherwise unharmed.

Carefully untangling it, he places it safely on his bedside table. “We need to shower.”

You don't move. “In a minute.”

“Okay, doll. One minute.”

Eyes heavy, you sink into his hold, the comforting sound of his heartbeat lulling you into sleep until he shakes you back awake.

“Hey, I meant it. We need to clean up. And you haven't had your cake yet.”

Yawning, you ask hopefully, “Cake?”

“Yeah, I, er, baked it myself. I hope it's okay, I've never really-”

How can he be so endearingly nervous just minutes after he made you orgasm, three times, you don't know. “I'm sure it'll be lovely, Bucky. Thank you.”

He shrugs, still blushing. “S'okay.”

It's quiet for a while longer, just basking in the afterglow, but there's something you really need to discuss.

Steeling your courage, you dive right in. “So, where'd we go from here?”

“Well, I'd like it if you'd be my girl, but it's up to you.”

You heart flips as you sigh in relief. “I'd like that.”

His delight at the turn of events is obvious too, pushing his lips to yours quickly before stating semi-seriously, “I better not read anything about this on that blog of yours.”

He confuses you for a second, having completely forgotten what had gotten you into this position in the first place. Laughing, you throw one of your legs over his waist, cuddling up to him even closer.

“Hey, Bucky,” You start, sitting up out of his hold to better look him in the eye whilst you ask the question you've been meaning to since the beginning of all this. “Do you follow me on there?”

“Maybe.”

You shove his arm playfully. “Maybe? Bucky! Yes or no!”

“Maybe,” He repeats with a smirk, not letting you interrogate him any more as he slides off the bed and scoops you up in to his arms. “Come on now, Y/N. Shower, cake, then back to your bed.”

“Why my bed?”

“'Cos it's clean,” he says bluntly, making you flush.

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

Struggling to stay awake, you allow him to manoeuvre you into the bathroom, inside the shower, and under the warm, soothing water.

Bucky grabs the soap when it becomes clear you don't intend to do it yourself, being particularly delicate with his touch over your still sensitive skin. “So, did you enjoy your birthday?”

You don't reply with words, just lean in to press a smile-filled kiss to the corner of his mouth, but that's probably answer enough.

*****

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #The gif is not really relevant but he's so attractive here so I had to add it...#Not sorry

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sunshineandbnha · 4 years ago

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Unexpected - Denki x reader (Valentine’s Day)

Word count: 3,978

Warnings: none, aside from a case of “Did not edit, just finished this this morning”

A/n: HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG?? I swear, I started it with the idea and intention that it would be 1.4k or 1.9k words. How did I accidentally write two thousand more words? Anyway, I hope this is a good valentine fic for Denki boy. I thought of it due to a prompt on tumblr. If I can later remember who it was who made it, I will edit this and have a link to that post.

Edit: Found it. The prompt was made by @love-me-a-good-prompt

When was it you started to look at him differently?

"Hey!"

You looked over your shoulder to find Kaminari making his way past several students in the cafeteria to get to you. You turned your body to face him. Though, you felt awkward about still holding your lunchtray, as if it was a barrier between you and him.

"Do you got a date for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

Your heart gave a weep at the reminder of Valentine's day. As if the hearts and commercials all over the place weren't enough. "What do you think?"

"Just checking." He dashed to get his lunch tray he had set down, and sped walked to your side as you picked a table to sit at.

Kaminari had been your friend for several months. One day you had simply overheard him talking about a manga, the same one you had read, and you jumped into the conversation. After that, the both of you became easy friends, and frequently had lunch at the same table.

"Why would you even ask?” You slid into a seat at the table. “You know there's no one I'm really interested in."

"Except for fictional characters," he added while getting into his own chair across from you.

"Yeah. Unfortunately they aren't available for me to ask out."

He leaned back in his seat. “We’re really missing out on these things. I thought by the time I was in high school training to be a cool hero, I would have tons of girls who like me by now.”

“And I, for some reason, thought I would magically manifest a special someone. But that’s clearly not happening anytime soon.” You stared down while absent mindedly stirring your food.

He suddenly sat straight and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. The kind that told you he had an idea. "What if we did all of that classy Valentine's day stuff together?"

"I think you meant cliche."

"Banana, ba- ... oh wait, that's not how the saying goes."

You let out a large laugh and nearly choked on your food.

"Something with tomatoes or potatoes," he continued with a wave of his hand as if throwing away the topic. "Well, what do you think? You wanna do it?"

"You just want the chocolate, don't you?"

"No! I would never!" He waved his arms around. "... Well, that too."

"I knew it!" You lifted your fork/chopstick of food into air in triumph. "Just make sure you get my favorite chocolate once White Day rolls around."

"Sure thing!" He gave a thumbs up. "I'm sure I can get enough money by then!"

"You've been using all of it on manga and snacks again, haven't you?"

"What else would I use it on?"

"Okay. Just don't use the money for my chocolate on manga."

"If I did, It would be a great manga and be worth a lot more than some chocolate. Actually, that should be a thing. Instead of getting girls chocolate, get them manga! And we should get manga too. ... So, are we doing it?" he asked when he paused long enough to think.

"I don't know,” you shrugged while taking another bite.

He slammed his hand on the table. "But you said it like you did! I just agreed to get you chocolate next month!"

"I was saying if I agreed. If I agreed then you would have to get me chocolate.” You internally laughed at his response.

Kaminari slumped in his chair. "Okay, but my point is, how long have we been single? And it doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, so I was thinking why not we experience some of it while we're still in high school?"

"Hmmm," you tapped your finger against your lip. "Well, you have a point. And I guess I got nothing better to do tomorrow."

“So it’s a yes?” his eyes lit up.

“I guess so.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and some heads turned towards him. “I got a—!”

You hastily pulled him back down and got a hold of his ear. He yelped in pain before you shushed him. The attention he had gained was beginning to die down after doing that, much to your relief. You released a small puff of air, grateful that you didn’t feel like you were in a spotlight anymore.

“Kaminari,” you whispered into his ear, an edge present in your voice, “Don’t go announcing it to the world, especially if it’s not an actual date. Do not ruin it for me.”

You let go, and he got out of the awkward position of being pulled half way onto the table. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed in his food when you pulled him down. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his ear.

“Okay! You can count on me!”

Maybe it was a bad idea to suddenly agree when that meant you had to make chocolate for him that night. You already had some chocolate you bought from the store for family and friends. One of those giri chocos was originally going to be his, but now you would have to actually make him honmei choco if you were going to have the whole Valentine's Day experience. You considered skipping on that for a brief second, but you had already agreed to do it. Plus, you weren't sure if you would ever get to do this during high school at this rate. And you wanted to at least have done it once.

You'd have to run to the store to get better quality chocolate, a cute wrap for it, and a heart shaped mold. In order to save time, you went directly to the nearest store after school. It would save time, which you didn't have much of it. You didn't know how long it would take to make them, and you wanted some extra time in case you make a mistake and had to do something over again.

It was more crowded than you thought. You also didn't realize how many stares you would get just for being in your U.A. uniform. Thankfully, everything you needed was there and you made your way to the counter to pay. As you were weaving your way through the people, you thought you saw another student. You did a double take. Uniform. Pink skin. Ashido.

You tried to duck and hide, but it was too late.

"Oh, hey!" She waved you down and ran to you. A bag of purchased goods was hanging from her arm. "What are you doing here? Are you getting last minute giri choco too!"

“I, uh.”

“Hey, isn't that stuff to make chocolate? Wait a second… OMG! Who’s the lucky person!”

You nervously held the items close to you. This was why you didn't want her seeing you. "No one, really. I'm just... making it for the experience." You put a smile onto your face and did your best to make the last half of the sentence sound cheery.

It wasn't technically a lie. You just hoped she bought it. Because if she kept prying and learned it was for Kaminari, you would never hear the end of it.

"Okay. Can I have some when you're done?" She joked and bumped your arm with her elbow.

"Only if I didn't eat it all first." You internally high fived yourself for the quick reply.

"Okay. Well, see you at U.A." She waved before dashing out the door.

"Bye!" You watched her go. When she was out of view, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You stood nervously in the park. You wore a Valentine Day themed outfit you had put together, with the help of some ideas from the internet. It was 5:45 pm, the time you agreed on meeting. You had honestly expected him to be slightly late. Though it did nothing to make your feel less jittery.

There were quite a few people who also had the same idea of going to the park. Some friends playing Frisbee. A family walking by. And some couples. You scanned the area for him, multiple times, but still couldn't see him.

Why were you even so worried? This was your friend. It’s not like it was an actual date with someone you liked. If he forgot or something, you could just chew him out later. Then that 'what if' situation made you sick to your stomach and you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Hey!"

You head turned up within a split second and you saw him. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. This plus his smile and hair... somehow made him look nice. A smile spread on your face, yet your nerves didn't completely calm down just yet.

"Hey!" You greeted back.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You too." You nodded. "So, what were you planning on doing first?"

"I thought we'd walk around here first, then go to this one restaurant. And after that we can wander around shops." he shrugged.

"Okay, sounds nice." You began walking side by side with him.

Your brain tried to sabotage the moment by beginning to make you feel awkward. You did your best to push it away. But were you supposed to be walking in silence? Or talking?

"You wanna hold hands?" He offered.

"Hmm," you joking held your finger to your lip in deep thought. "I think no."

"Oh, come on!" He acted upset, but there was a big grin on his face.

You laughed and he joined in. A few more jokes were thrown back and forth as you passed trees and other people. Though within a seemingly short amount of time, the conversation hit dead end. You pulled on your sleeve and look in any direction but him.

"Okay, this is getting boring,” he said. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

"Lucky for you, I think we're almost at the end of the park, and I'm hungry."

“Yes!” he cheered. “They always make walking through the park look more fun in the movies.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh.

Kaminari led you to the place he picked out. Well, more like he tried to go there, then got lost and had to give up on relying on his memory. He made the brilliant move of pulling out his phone, setting the location on his map app, and he following it. But you both realized that he had gotten the point where you going mixed up with your location. This resulted in having to backtrack and ignoring your growling stomach as it took even longer to get there.

Finally, you found it. You entered through door with him. Inside were tables placed around a large circle. The conveyor belt had several plates of food with different types of sushi and other dishes. The chiefs in the middle of the circle conveyor worked hard to keep the food coming. Almost every table was filled.

“Aw, man. We should have gotten here earlier,” Kaminari grabbed your hand. “C’mon.”

You both ran until you spotted a free table and slide in. It took a second to catch your breath after the sudden sprint. Sitting in the chair, you looked around more closely. It was a nice place. There were people chattering, some clanking of plates, and mouth watering food slowly passing by you. You reached up to begin to grab one, but then you stopped yourself.

"Wait, am I paying for myself or where you...?"

"You can have whatever you want. My treat," he replied with a ish eating grin. Probably meant that he thought what he just said was very cool.

You laughed to yourself and picked one and he did the same. It was good. You were pleasantly surprised, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he had only learned of the restaurant while looking up ones online to take you to. And it was only yesterday that you agreed. Then again, you had made honmei choco the other night...

You suddenly remembered something and nearly choked on your sushi roll.

"You okay?" Kaminari said, unfortunately dismissing any hope you had that he didn't notice.

"No, I'm good. I just need to make a phone call. One second." You excused yourself and walked outside while pulling out your phone.

It was an uncomfortable change to suddenly be greeted by the chilly February air. Was it really that cold when you were with Kaminari? You dialed your mom's number and resisted the urge to pace.

As soon as you heard the other end being picked up, you began. "Mom, I need you to get something for me. If you look in the kitchen, somewhere on the counter is where I left a bag of chocolate for Valentine's day. Can you bring that to me?" You had been so busy trying to get ready and be on time, that you had accidentally left the honmei choco you made.

"Uhh, okay. But where are you? It’ll be awfully hard to give it to you if I don’t know where you are."

"In a little bit I should be..." you tried to think of a good point to meet up, "near Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Probably close to that one gazebo. I'll text you that so you don't forget after I hang up."

"Okay. I hope you appreciate this. I really don't feel like going all the way out there to give you something you forgot."

"If I could go back and un-forget it, I would. Thank you. Bye."

With that, the call ended. You took a deep breath to calm your heart, which seemed to think forgetting chocolate was a catastrophic event, and went back inside.

When you caught sight of Kaminari again he was dunking a chunk of seaweed and fish into soy sauce, before shoving it into his already full mouth. He stopped and paused upon seeing you. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could and finished by the time you sat back down.

"So, what was that about?" he started it off as a joke, but his voice seemed shaky for whatever reason.

"I just forgot something and asked Mom to go get it for me." Technically wasn't a lie.

"Oh, okay." He began eating more. He started counting the plates and you could see his face pale a tad.

"Is everything alright for you?"

"Huh? I mean, yeah, everything's great." He smiled at you.

You shrugged and focused your gaze on the conveyor belt. A particularly delicious looking morsel. It was clearly more expensive, with a nice layer of tuna in it. You reached out your hand, considering getting it when you saw Kaminari flinch at your action.

You turned to him. "Do I need to pay for my own meal?"

"No, no," he tried to retain the coolness he built up, "I can pay."

You sighed. "No, you are not going broke because of expensive fish."

"But, that's not-"

"What? It's not cool? Denki- oops.” You realized you accidentally used his given name.

His face turned the slightest bit pink, though you hardly even noticed in your own embarrassment. “That’s fine. You can call me Denki. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Thanks,” you nodded and continued, “Denki, you are my friend," why did the word 'friend' leave a different taste this time 'round? "and I don't want you doing something stupid because you think it makes you look cool."

He struggled to make a comeback and ended up blurting out, "Doing something stupid that makes me look cool defines me."

"Look, let's split the bill between us, that way you pay for some of mine, but you don't spend up the money for the chocolate you promised me."

"Wait, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to make sure you still got chocolate." He faked an offended expression.

You exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better. As long as you agree."

"Fine."

"But don't purposefully buy more just because I'm offering to pay half."

"Can't make any promises~"

"You little-"

Eventually, you became full enough, or rather reached the maximum to what you were willing to pay. Then you left. You blinked when you stepped out. You hadn’t expected it to become this dark. Kaminari began walking off, probably to some store or the mall, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Is it alright if we stop by the beach?"

His eyes lit up, like the stars in the sky. "Great idea! That'd be much more romantic."

You expected to roll your eyes, but what you found was your face growing warm and your mouth being lost for words. Thankfully, he didn't notice and just started running for the beach, pulling you along. Buildings loomed over you in the dark, until they finally cleared and the beach came into view. The sea seemed to become the night sky. It gently washed over the sand in a rhymic pattern. The sound of it filled your ears and your senses listened. A sense of calmness washed over you.

You both walked up to the gate that separated the beach from the road. Kaminari leaned against the metal gate, resting on his arms. The two of you stared at the view in a comfortable silence.

“Wow, this is nice,” he commented.

“Yeah.” There was a weird feeling, somewhat reminiscent to a flutter or squeeze, in your chest. Something that made the moment seem more magical. You could almost feel this feeling rising and beginning to climb up your throat.

More silence, then a movement caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Your mom was waving to you and held a small bag that slightly reflected in the small amount of light there was.

“One second, I need to go get something,” you let him know and ran to your mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t make this a habit,” she handed it to you. Then she glanced to where Kaminari was and squinted. “Is that your date? Is that why you were making chocolate?”

“No,” your voice came out more unsure for some reason, “well, I… was just making that for myself. This is just giri choco.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Don’t stay out much longer.”

“I won’t.” You quickly ran back. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Noting important,” you shrugged and leaned on the gate. “Oh, and here.” You held the bag out to him, trying to act cool and nonchalant, but you knew you had a big smirk on your face.

He gasped and snatched it out of your hold. He wrestled with the bag, trying to get it open. Once he succeeded, he looked inside. A big smile spread across his face and he pulled it out. He held a large chocolate heart on a stick, almost like a lollipop. You thought that would be fun to make. Of course, now that he held it, you could see all the tiny imperfections. Like where a small air bubble had been, or how some chocolate had gotten on the stick. But Kaminari didn’t seem to care at all. He stared at it in awe. Like he had just been given something he wanted for years.

“Wow! Wait, did your mom just give this to you? Did you forget?” he looked over to you.

“What, no, I would never…” you laughed nervously. “But I did make it. You better like it, or else,” you joked.

“I’m sure I will! Wow. You made this?”

“Yep. Last night.”

“Thank you!” He took a bite out of it and began happily chewing.

You smiled. Your eyes locked onto the gazebo on the beach. It looked really nice. The thought of you being in it made you want to go even more. Currently there was a couple there, but then they walked out and started going down the beach. Your eyes lit up.

You looked to Kaminari, tugged on his sleeve, and pointed to the now empty location.

He grinned. “I think I know what you’re thinking and I think we should do it too.”

With a couple of small laughs you both hurried down to the beach was fast as you could. The sand made you slow your pace into a walk, but you didn’t mind. The sea air on you felt refreshing, chilling your skin. The moon was beautiful and the water reflected slivers of the moonlight that danced.

"It looks really nice." You smiled.

"Yeah... wanna hold hands?" He offered his free hand to you.

To your surprise, this actually sounded nice. And to your greater surprise, you accepted. Your hand slipped in his perfectly. Almost like it found its home. The second you skin touched, it was like electricity ran through you and jump started your heart. You were about to ask if he was using his quirk, but quickly realized that it didn't feel exactly like electricity. But the strange feeling in your heart continued. You couldn't tell if it felt nice or if you wanted it to go away.

Your feet kept sinking in the sand until you reached the pier and had to get used to walking on concrete again. You made your way to the roof on the end of the pier, hand in hand. You stood by the edge. Staring at the water.

Kaminari took the last bite. “That was delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” he looked around. He put the stick back into the bag and placed it in his pocket. “Wanna dance?”

Instead of your usual joking reply, you felt flustered, but shyly accepted. He pulled out his phone and started some music up. You put your hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He held you by the waist. You tried to regulate your breathing and calm down. The two of you began spinning in time with the music. He twirled you around. You even did that one move you would see in movies. When you’d spin out, like a door opening, while still holding his hand. The he’d pull you back to him. It all felt simple, and fun.

Right as the fourth song was ending, you had an overwhelming urge to ask him something. “Umm,” then you stopped yourself when you realized exactly what it was you actually wanted to ask. But why did it feel like it was rising out of your throat, desperately wanting to be said.

“Yeah?” he looked at you. His yellow eyes made you feel like melting, an effect they never had up until that point.

“I… it was nothing.”

“Really?”

“No.” You cursed yourself for automatically saying the truth.

“Then what is it?” He looked at you more intently.

Your mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out what to do or say. “Date, please,” you blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Well, um.” You really wished you had kept your mouth shut. You stared down and said in the most quiet voice possible, “I think maybe I kinda like you and maybe, kinda, want to go on a real date with you. Maybe? If you’d be fine with that, maybe.”

“Wait,” he stepped back as if in surprise. “You. Want to date… me?”

Your face was burning to the point you wanted to stick into the water like an ostrich. “Yes?”

He threw his arms in the air and jumped around. “Yes! I got an actual date! I’m finally dating someone! They said I couldn’t do it!”

“You don’t need to announce it to the whole world.” You laughed.

“Well, you are m—”

“I swear, if you say finish with ‘my world’ I will knock you over the head.”

He let out a big laugh. “Why? You don’t want to be my world?”

His laughter was contagious. “No, it’s cheesy, and this literally just happened a minute ago.”

You both started to walk back, and hardly even noticed when your hands slipped perfectly into one another.

#denki x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #Valentine's day #bnha denki #mha denki #bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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uponrightful · 3 years ago

Note

You brought this on yourself 🤣 I love how you give Crosshairs point of view so often, but I gotta admit, I was wondering what Dutch was thinking here…it’s all about the spicy longing for me… so

Carefully he wrapped his arms around her, and covered her hands with his own; Caging in her upper body to stabilize the little shake of the gun by taking some of the weight off her arms.

“Confident?” He asked with a hint of mockery to hide his weakening resolve.

She settled back against him tighter, and with a resolved breath she answered;

“With you…? Definitely.”

Such a good fucking girl. He sprawled over her hips with his own, and pulled himself tight against her. Steadying his breathing just long enough to make sure she could follow it easily enough.

“Then take your shot.” He ground out heavily against the shell of her ear.

Crosshair watched the shot leave his rifle, and could already tell she’d made a direct hit. It was actually perfect, and he couldn’t help but loose his concentration from the sensation of her body jolting back against him. She’d handled it flawlessly, but he didn’t miss the little whimper that escaped her when the gun rocked back into her shoulder once again. He wanted her to take one more shot, begging for another just one more excuse to feel her underneath him. To Cross’ utter shock, Duchess began laughing happily at the mere sight of finally hitting her target.

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

* send one in here *

*cracks my knuckles* "Ask and you shall recieve my loveley" I say as I chuckle deviously. In no way does my fianceé send a worried look in my direction as I start typing furiously.

***

To begin, Dutch chose to lay prone for a reason. It's actually not the best position for herself -fundementally- and she chooses to ignore that because it's how she pictures Crosshair doing it. That mental image of his shooting like this is ingrained in her mind, and Dutch has too much interest in him to try and position herself any differently. His rilfe is longer than standard, weighs at least six pounds more, his trigger is softer, and the scope sits a little too high to see from it clearly at this angle. All of that comes within seconds of holding it, but Duchess ignores all of that against her better judgement. It's a taunt, as much as it is an impulse to put herself in his preverbial shoes. She can literally feel Crosshair watching her, and althought that's a very distracting thought, Dutch is set on impressing him.

Note: This choice -of positioning- was made not just for logistics, but also because it fits her personality. Duchess isn't shy, and she is certainly not inexpereinced. I thought about this being a "standing" scene but Dutch wouldn't let me. 😅 Although she is extremely independent, her character's biggest weakness is a strong desire to impress -or be accepted. This stems not only from her time with Phantom Squad, but also from the lack of times in her life that someone has told her "good job". When she chooses to lay down, she's literally opting out of the security she would have of making an accurate shot, just to take a chance on impressing Crosshair. That's a risk/guess... But Duchess isn't afraid to try anyways.

The whole time she's actually a lot more concerned with making her shots than anything else. Constantly checking her form and doing anything she's learned in the past to prove that her size isn't a limiting factor like Crosshair says it is. Her shoulder hurts, and although it would otherwise be enough to make her stop -she has her own career effectiveness to worry about- Dutch isn't leaving until dominates this gun. It's not until she hears Crosshair's sigh that it clicks in her mind that he's still watching her struggle, but not taken the oppertunity to stop her from continuing.

Note: Weapons mirror their users. And when I created Duchess, I made the serious decision that a lot of her ability to characterize others would come from their armor and weapons. That's just who she is, and what she knows best. So, in this scene... Dutch is literally equating Crosshair's rilfe, as to a part of him. If it's harsh, that means he is as well... If it's a sensitive model, that says something about Cross. If she can't control it easily, that's an indicator of the man who wields it. Really pay attetion to the way I compare Crosshair to his 'Puncher throughout the fic. I do it with extreme purpose, and although it's not always easy to spot, there are many times I allude to their symbiotic nature.

The moment Crosshair is close enough to touch, all of that subtle teasing about his weapon from earlier is gone. Ultimatley, Duchess can have a smart mouth, and know how exactly how to use it. But Cross presents a whole new kind of intimidation that she doesn't know how to handle. For Duchess, power only comes in two ways: Physical Prowess, or Rank -wheather that by government facilitated, or sibling rank due to the Phantoms. She's never experienced the way Crosshair acts twoards her. Duchess knows he respects her -because of he he listens to her seriously- but he also challenges her to do things she'd be otherwise criticized for with a hint of disbelief. (Like mouthing off, or betting that she couldn't shoot his rifle, despite that being against regulation.)

The moment he puts his leg between hers, Dutch is a ball of nervousness. Sex is nothing new to her, but that kind of confidence in particular, is completely foreign. Normally she's the one who initiates things like physical dominance in personal space. Dutch is so caught off guard, and her whole body freezes up, because she's realising that she likes Crosshair doing that. It's a release of power that she's constantly holding up, and that kind of vulnerability is hard to let go of after making such a habit of about being the strong one. After all, since Phantom Squad, she's had to depend on herself alone.

It's when he grabs ahold of her jaw and tells her to relax that she's really down bad. 🥵 She knows it should be nothing but a technical comment on her form, but he's commanding about it . Literally ordering her to let go, and release that tension. That feels fucking amazing to hear and feel, coming from a stoic guy like Crosshair. She knows his rifle is harsh, and occasionally he is as well; But that's becoming all the more desirable the more he directs her. Pushing her down against the floor, guiding her back against him... Doing simple things, but silently demanding she follow his orders. Duchess doesn't have to do anything -or think about anything- other than letting him take the lead, and she's daydreaming about if he's like that in other areas.

Note: Duchess takes a fully submissive role here. She's fully receptive to Crosshair's leadership, and it's because she enjoys being thought of as weak -or little- on occasion. Her background is full of war accolades, and confidential missions she knows to be successful. All of it culminating in this unspoken war register of a badass woman who fights like a clone trooper. But that's not realistic to uphold all of the time. Everyone likes to be taken care of sometimes, and Duchess just happens to really like someone taking control every once and a while. And with Crosshair, she feels safe enough to let that happen, and also enjoy the sexual aspect she's been thinking about all this time as well.

Duchess admits to feeling confident with him here for two reasons. Number one, she's still trying to be a little teasing. It's natural to have a little fight in her all the time, and with Crosshair, she thinks that flusters him. (She's right by the way...) But secondly, it's her desire to show trust. Crosshair might be fit right up against her, whispering sexual innuendos in her ear, but Dutch ultimately feels safe like this . The rifle isn't going to hurt as bad, she's going to hit the target, and Crosshair's weight is emotionally grounding. They might be attempting to do some target practice, but Duchess is literally getting the equivalent of a weighted blanket and reassurance that her true self isn't unworthy of attention. Plus, it's coming from a man who otherwise appears completely disregarding of anything with a noticable flaw... That's something Dutch will never forget. The best sniper in the GAR is helping her... And he's happy to do so, by getting as up-close and personal as a man could get.

His hands cover her own, rough and calloused, but they're unbelievably gentle. Cross is almost hesitant, and Duchess can tell he's actively trying to ease her tension. The way he speaks is soft, and quiet... Making her feel like jelly. Being asked to follow his breathing pattern, his arms tight around her, legs somewhat twisted into hers, his thigh tight against her core... It's all seductive, and essentially surrounding her body with him. And Dutch can't help but eat it up. She wants more. No one has ever done something so simple, but effective in drawing out her desire to think of herself as something worth coddling -in a sense.

Duchess might hit that target in the end... But the only reason she did was because Crosshair had relaxed her enough so he could aim . (She didn't make that shot. Crosshair did all the work, she just pulled the trigger.) It was the first time Duchess felt like she was being tended to fully, and that's that had her acting so lighthearted at the end.

***

I fucking love writing these. Please don't ever stop sending them in!😅🤍

#uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites #coriolis effect #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair #commentary track #saltywintersoldat

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not-poignant · 4 years ago

Note

I hope this question doesn't annoy you, but why is The Ice Plague so difficult to write compared to Falling Falling Stars? I Love Falling Falling Stars a TON, but I miss The Ice Plague too, do you know when you'll start writing it again?

The question doesn’t annoy me at all! And honestly, now that some time has gone by, I feel like I can answer this a bit better anyway.

I’m not gonna lie, I can kind of phone in Falling Falling Stars, I’m not saying I don’t work hard on it when I’m writing it, but at the same time, it’s a tiny cast, it’s a small number of locations, I’m not dealing with plot points I introduced eight years ago, and it’s much easier to write because the narrative tone is so much more conversational.

By comparison, The Ice Plague has a much larger ensemble cast, the core cast alone sits at six characters, with other very well-known characters like Gulvi and Fenwrel, and new characters being introduced all the time, who need to feel like characters and not just two-dimensional stick figures.

Because it’s an epic fantasy quest/road-trip story, there’s always a fuckton of worldbuilding that needs to happen. And sometimes that’s stuff I’ve done and can refer back to, and sometimes I realise I need to describe a road or a path and do a transitional scene and I want it to feel like they’re somewhere, instead of in some nothingy placeholder space. That’s either constant referencing back to documents to get it right, or changing the documents because I’ve come up with more interesting stuff (I think), etc. It’s also writing a lot of transitional scenes in a way that I need to make sure is both grounded, and not boring; or alternatively, skipping those scenes in non-linear narratives in a way that doesn’t feel too jarring.

I think ultimately in The Ice Plague 3 alone, the characters are hitting up some 15-18 different locations, that all have different cultures, different types of architecture, different botany and animals living there, different types of fae living there, present different conflicts or resolutions, and offer different things to the cast. Because Gwyn and Augus are there too, I also need to pay attention to 8 years’ worth of Fae Tales politics.

Those two paragraphs alone are exhausting to think about, and it can be exhausting to write and do it - hopefully - well. Figuring out which fae would live together best (like Gevtivar), and what they would build their homes out of, and if they would then need magic to secure their homes, and what the history of that city is (Esgrettio), and so on. It adds up.

Since this is the final book in a 1.5 million word series, it needs to wrap up around 8 years’ worth of storylines. Like not every single one, but definitely most of them, and it needs to do that in a smooth, integrated, ongoing way, so that there’s like small storyline payoffs all the time. We get them in book 1 (finding out classless fae are a construct of Mages and learning about dragons), we get them in book 2 (finding out Davix is still alive and that the Raven Prince is still around and what really happened with all of that and also giving closure to Augus), and we’re getting them in book 3 (that Gwyn is related to Olphix, which explains his huge concentration of magical power, what Ash’s heartsong is etc.)

But I always have to keep those storylines in mind, and foreshadow for The Ice Plague overall while introducing wrap ups that happen in (hopefully) a fairly smooth and seamless way that feel natural in the story. It also means doing justice to storylines of side characters like the Raven Prince, or Davix, or Julvia and her relationship with Ondine, or Ash and his broken relationship with his own heartsong.

And then finally the prose is just more typical of epic fantasy, and is just a more challenging (and rewarding) style to write. And I think also I’ve been spooked re: this emotional crash irl and how much it’s hit me, which means I’m reluctant to start posting chapters now (I have like 6 more written), until I have more of a buffer.

But then there’s the fact that The Ice Plague demands all of this, and is the least popular thing I’ve written in maybe 8 years. Especially the book 3. And honestly, not gonna lie, it’s really hard to kind of find the energy to put that much love and hard work into a story that demanding for something that I feel like is just ultimately not very good or interesting or engaging compared to something like Falling Falling Stars or even The Nascent Diplomat. And it’s hard honestly thinking ‘this kind of fic is a mistake for me, and I should probably never write anything like it again’ because I love epic fantasy so much, and so I suppose it’s just dealing with the embarrassment of that too, because it’s a pretty public failing, lmao. Everyone gets to watch it in real time!

I will finish The Ice Plague, because - most of all - I really need to finish telling Mosk’s and Eran’s stories and it’s unfair to leave them hanging, and I love those characters so fucking much, and I also need to close Gwyn and Augus’ storyline too. Like, I feel like I’m doing an injustice to the characters by letting it hang, and that doesn’t feel good, and I do want to actually give them what I kind of promised them. Sometimes writing my stories feels like a contract with these character constructs - I put them through hell in exchange for a hopeful ending; I haven’t completed the contract until the story is ended, and so far that’s worked well for me re: longfic completion.

So like, tl;dr - The Ice Plague is a very challenging and technical kind of writing that requires more skillsets and is therefore just harder by default, and it’s the least popular longfic I’ve ever written across two accounts in 8-9 years, and that’s very discouraging. I know some people really love it, and honestly folks like that - and like yourself anon - get me through and keep me thinking I will finish this. And I hope I can get more of The Ice Plague to you sooner rather than later <333

#asks and answers #the ice plague #fae tales #fae tales verse #mosk manytrees #eran iliakambar #the ice plague has been a very humbling journey #to say the least #but that's what you get when you put serials online #and try different things #anyway for those of who you do enjoy the ice plague #i want you to know i do want to finish it #and not in a 'i hate this story' way #but in a genuine 'i can't wait for you to see what's coming' way #and for those who stick it out to the very end #i am endlessly grateful to each and every one of you #for bearing with me #Anonymous

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Note

31 from the fluff prompts with peter!!! (yes this is what i meant oops-)

my darling red! so happy you requested peter as this is my first peter fic!

yes i went way too into detail about baseball but it’s the first thing that came to mind-

pairing: peter stone x female!reader

prompt: “shut up before i kiss you”

warnings: none.

word count: 1.4k

****

“Are you kidding me? He has a no hitter through six innings, and as soon as he lets someone on first, which was actually due to an error by the shortstop, he gets pulled?” You threw your empty cup on the ground before turning to Peter.

He was silent, with a growing smirk on his face as you continued to ramble on about the coaching staff, or lack thereof, in your opinion.

“Great, now they’re putting this guy in? I know it’s early in the season, but he’s closed three games so far and he doesn’t even have a win.”

You and Peter were at Citi Field, watching the Mets go against the Phillies. You’d agreed to go to a game with him under one circumstance; you got to sit in the bleachers like regular people. No boxes, no special menu for the former starting pitcher. You wanted to experience the game like you always had growing up; with greasy hot dogs, and beers spilling all around you.

This was technically your first date with the ADA. According to Rollins, Peter had been trying to ask you out for weeks. Asking you to join him for drinks after a long case, offering to get dinner after a late night interrogation, but you said no every time, too invested in the case, or too oblivious to his motives.

It was a no brainer for you when he finally asked you to come to the game with him, on a date, he clarified, the two of you sharing a laugh over his failed past attempts. He’d been working with the unit for almost a year now, but it was weird to think of your job without him in the mix.

Although you were surprised that Peter was trying to take you on a date for months, it was him that now stood speechless as you critiqued every pitching change, stolen base, and balls that seemed to be just outside of the strike zone. “Christ, this guy couldn’t find the strike zone if it hit him in the face.”

What surprised him the most would have to be your vocabulary. He knew you could go off on a perp in interrogation, but he didn’t peg you for the profanity enduring type. But your passion for the game only made him feel warmer inside.

“Peter, he hasn’t cleared the plate once,” You started as the batter took his place on first base. “You’d think they’d approach the mound, at least try-”

“Would you shut up before I kiss you?” He interrupted you, the smirk on his face unbelievably teasing.

You turned to face him, silenced by his statement, a red flush starting to cover your face. But you recovered quickly, not ready to show your hand completely to the counselor.

“Peter Stone, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to make an exception for me?” He asked, eyes flickering to your lips for a brief second before locking on your eyes again.

You were certainly tempted. But you were also having too much fun.

“Maybe, if you joined in on my expert commentary, I could rethink my stance. I mean, I am at a baseball game with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs.” He rolled his eyes as I lightly shoved his shoulder. “C’mon, you know I’m right about that pitching move. And you’re just dying to tell me how smart I am for recognizing it.”

“Alright, alright, you are right about pulling the pitcher.” You smiled, shooting your hand into the air in victory. “But don’t let it get to your head. We have two and a half innings left, and like you said, you’re here with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs. I may know a thing or two more than you.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and you easily leaned into him. You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, even if you wanted too.

“Bring it on, Ace.”

****

“So I think we can both agree that you should be the new manager for the New York Mets,”

“Deal. But only if you sign on to be my pitching coach. And Noah Porter Benson is our number one starting pitcher.”

“Deal.” Peter smiled, and looked over at you.

After the game, the two of you took the subway from Queens back to Manhattan, when Peter insisted on walking you home. You only objected four times, but after he grabbed your hand and started leading the way to your apartment, you quickly shut your mouth.

You thought he would’ve let go of your hand after a few seconds. Instead, he laced your fingers together, and hadn’t let go in ten minutes.

The night had gone so smooth, never a lull in the conversation, due in large part to your inability to keep your coaching opinions to yourself. But Peter liked that about you; he liked that you didn’t shy away from him, or make him take charge of the night. Everything was so easy with the two of you. Everything just made sense.

When you approached your brick building, you let out a sigh. You really didn’t want this night to end.

“Let me walk you up,” He offered, clearly not done spending time together either.

You took the elevator, letting you off at the third floor to walk to your door. Peter still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“This is me. Lucky number nine.” You said as you stood in front of your door, turning to face Peter. He looked so soft in his jeans and crew neck, so much more relaxed than in his suits for the office.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” He started. “Thank you for finally agreeing to come on a date with me.”

You let out a laugh, while looking down at your intertwined hands. “Yeah well, I would’ve agreed sooner had I not been so blind to your intentions.”

“Well we can still make up for lost time.” He gave your hand a squeeze, and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Would you come to dinner with me Friday night, for a second date?”

“You sure you still want to spend time with me after tonight? I don’t shut up easily,” You teased, earning a grin from your handsome date.

“I’m sure. You keep me on my toes, detective.”

“Good. Because I’ve been rethinking that rule I have about first dates,” You took a step towards him, still leaving enough space for him to back out. But the red tinge on his cheeks told you he wouldn’t.

“Oh really?” He asked, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist. It brought you closer to him, enough to see that his eyes held a little bit of green amongst the sea of blue.

He cocked his head to the side the slightest bit, as if to ask if this was okay. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, a small nod to show you meant it.

When his lips met your own, they were soft, perfectly fitting together in a short, sweet kiss. He started to pull away, but you quickly pulled him back to your lips, not done with him just yet. You felt him smile into it, a little exhale of breath leaving his nose and tickling your upper lip. That made you smile, preventing you from staying together any longer.

You leaned back, removing your hands from around his neck to circle his waist, finally feeling the soft fabric of the blue crew neck.

“I’d say that made up for months of miscommunication.” He grinned, and you could only smile in response.

“Definitely.” Your eyes found the clock at the end of the hall, already eleven thirty. “As much as I’d love to talk all night about my coaching strategy, we both have to be in court early tomorrow morning.”

He bowed his head in disappointment, knowing you were right. Rollins and Carisi were testifying tomorrow and needed all the rest you could get.

“Then you’ll just have to save it for Friday.” He said and unwrapped himself from you. You held on another second, enjoying the warmth from his torso.

“I will. Now, go get some sleep. I’ll see you from the gallery tomorrow.”

“Okay. Make sure you keep your comments to yourself in there.” He joked, earning him a light smack to his chest. “See you in the morning.”

He leaned down and kissed your cheek, then lightly pecked your lips. “Sleep tight.”

You watched him walk back down the hall as you unlocked your door, a little dizzy from the charming effects of ADA Peter Stone.

****

#peter stone x female!reader #peter stone x reader #peter stone fic #law and order svu #jules writes shit ??

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head.

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors.

When it actually started: You, in full costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’.

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face.

Mini scenario:

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham.

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around.

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business.

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly.

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies.

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint.

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour.

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients.

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly.

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end.

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces.

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding.

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one.

Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time.

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time.

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough.

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things.

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side.

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques.

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified.

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend.

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities.

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith.

They all lecture Dick about it.

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets.

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to.

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your.

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy.

Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution.

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses. You are technically not lying when you say it's yours.

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence.

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind.

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you.

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it.

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister.

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen.

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops' and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though.

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization.

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part.

taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #Deathstroke #parental #Slade Wilson #BatFam #batfamily headcanon #rant #my writing #merc!reader #batboys #batkids

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

Text

bygones of the sun. 05 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 4.3k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

a/n: a repost of my old fic!

The sun begins to set the minute you stride your way out of the dance room.

“Leaving already?” Keiko asks, looking up in the midst of rummaging through her duffle bag.

You pause, affixed a few feet from the door frame where Taehyung and Jungkook peer in from, “I, um... I have something urgent to do.”

Contrary to most people’s uninterested reactions, she raises both brows in genuine curiosity when Taehyung perks his ears and interjects with a chirp, “what’re you doing? Where are you going? Do you need help?”

“Uh, no,” you blurt out, furrowing your brows and eyeing the ceiling and door and everything but Taehyung’s pure circular and watchful eyes in an attempt to fabricate some excuse. “I actually… forgot to lock my house.”

“You should hurry on back then,” Keiko grins, and the way only one corner of her lips lifts and a lighthearted laugh tumbles from her lips tells you your excuse might have been adequate in fooling the boys but not her.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later then,” you mumble under your breath with a pressed smile, nodding them goodbye despite seeing the pout adorning Taehyung’s lips. Ducking your head with your eyes glued to the floor, you shuffle in between Taehyung and Jungkook and through the door. Standing on each side of the door frame, you can practically feel their gazes following you as you inch forward step by step, wondering whether they’re staring at the disheveled state of your hair or the poor outfit choice you had thrown on in a hurry—

“Oh? Isn’t that Hoseok’s sweater?”

Shit, you had totally forgotten about it.

You whip your head around to find Jungkook staring at the black sweater which engulfs you from within, and it only takes you a split second and the strike of a hammering heartbeat to dismiss his suspicions, “no. It’s mine.”

“Nah, I don’t think Hoseok would lend her his clothes,” Taehyung waves his hands, “I mean, did you see them scowling at each other yesterday? Plus, it’s not like they’re dating. Right, Y/N?”

Your cheeks burn—imaginably, a bright shade of red—and you can’t help but run your fidgeting hands through your hair.

“Uh...” you hesitantly glimpse at Taehyung who smiles at you from ear to ear with cheeks raised before averting your eyes back to the ground. Technically speaking, you and Hoseok are no where near dating; in fact, the only reason you two are still acquainted is because of a stupid bet you made in the spur of a moment… or at least that’s what you tell yourself, because despite how many times you tell yourself otherwise, you know the reason you accepted his offer stems from curiosity, concern, and guilt over Hoseok’s hiatus as the school’s heartthrob of a dancer. So no, you two aren’t dating. It’s not like Hoseok would want to anyways, especially after hearing you mention the topic he despises the most. “...yeah.”

Jungkook cocks his head and cinches his brows, eyes never leaving the obviously and excessively oversized sweater, “oh, really? Sorry… my bad.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head and hastily excuse yourself, “see you later.”

Jungkook slowly nods his head, waving you goodbye as you lower your head and quickly make your departure. And despite verbally dismissing their initial suspicions, you can still feel their piercing gaze boring a hole into the back of your head as they questioningly glance at each other with a shrug of the shoulders.

Of course they’d notice; what were you even thinking when you first threw on this damn curse—albeit warm and comfy—of a sweater?

“Oh? Where are you going, Y/N?” you lift your head to find Jimin striding his way towards you from across the hall.

“Home. I have to do something urgent,” you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your left ear.

Jimin lightly laughs at your reply, nodding his head and passing by you only to turn on his heels right when he does so, “hey, I didn’t want to ask you this in front of the other two in case you got embarrassed, but isn’t that Hoseok’s sweater?”

Your eyes pop as you quickly whirl around to turn your back on Jimin and hide your cheeks which scorches with heat equivalent to blazing flames, because it’s not like his attempt at sparing you from embarrassment makes anything different; in fact, all it does is commence the second round of embarrassment for you. And when you think about all three of the boys noticing your choice of clothing while everything goes unnoticed by Keiko, you conclude the three boys truly are too similar for your own good.

You gulp down the knot in your throat before exclaiming, “for the last time, no!”

“Okay! Have a safe walk home, alright?” he calls out in the midst of his laughs.

Throwing on the hood which indeed belongs to the one and only infamous Jung Hoseok, a fact which flushes overwhelmingly burning blood to your cheeks, especially when you’re bombarded by the scent of clean mint and spice, or rather, the scent of him, you scurry down the halls without another glance back over your shoulder.

But once you’ve scampered out of the building and into the cold, harsh air of the outside, away and hidden from curious eyes of the dwindling numbers of passerbys in the school, and once you’ve taken your final step out of the hall leading to the dance practice room where light seeps through the doors from late night sessions, you find the sun has finally set.

Street lights line and illuminate the sidewalk in its embrace of warm and welcoming hues of golden bronze, providing more than enough safety for you to roam around in the neighborhood, but the hastening of your footsteps and the panicking thoughts flooding through your mind tell you otherwise; after seeing where your careless curiosity and actions had gotten you into with Jimin and the boys, you devise a simple enough plan to complete on your own terms. You have to get home, change into anything but this damn sweatshirt, and get yourself to a state presentable to a boy who’s soon to come barging into your house uninvited—all to be done before Hoseok arrives.

But when you’re pacing down the streets with your arms crossed and your lungs huffing out quickened breaths showcased by the script of the cold, night air, a part of you dreads for the moment when you’re forced to discard yourself of this sweater. Unlike your bare legs, feet, and lips which quiver in the wrath of the freezing night, your arms, chest, and the entirety of your upper body remains wrapped in the warmth of his cotton sweater. As much as you hate to admit it, the scent which radiates from his sweater provides you with an odd sense of home and security as it shelters you from the weather and intermixes with the scent of freshly watered grass and petrichor.

And when you’re lost in your thoughts elicited by the soft, warm fabric of his sweater, you find yourself walking up your driveway when someone’s voice captures your diverted attention.

“About time you arrive!” a familiarly low yet bright voice calls out to you. Lifting your head, your eyes widen and a harsh pang of your heart against your chest floods you with panic as every part of you hopes he doesn’t notice the sweater you have draped over your body. Luckily, his gaze locks with yours, unamused and tired from waiting, and yet glistening ever so slightly at your arrival. With his body leaning against the wall by your door, he crosses his arms and taps his fingers against them like he always does, “so, where were you?”

“Is that any of your business?” you answer, rummaging through the pockets of the sweater to find your door key.

“Wow, sassy right off the bat,” Hoseok chortles, lifting a plastic bag filled with whatever he had brought with him, “and here I am, a gentleman, bringing you, who should’ve been bedridden, some food.”

Waving him off, you scoff at his remark and fumble with the keys until you realize how close he’s standing to you. And no, it isn’t the proximity of his heat radiating off your already burning cheeks that sends you into panic, but it’s the fact that he’s so close to noticing the sweater of his on you and the thought of a smug smile spreading across his lips when he registers the thought of you, who supposedly, and most certainly, despises him, putting on his clothes that causes you to interject when you can practically feel his eyes scanning you up and down.

“Well, at least I know you weren’t out on a date with some other guy,” he laughs, “or at least not with that outfit—”

“I went to the grocery store,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the door and your hands clutching the doorknob.

“Uh… huh…” Hoseok hums, head turning and leaning against the door frame only to meet the hood draping over your own head. “And so why are you coming back empty handed?”

Well shit, maybe he isn’t as dull as you thought after all.

“The store was closed,” you mutter.

“...fair enough,” Hoseok stands there in silence, with the exception of his fingers pattering against his gray sweater, each second which ticks by sends your heart racing in suspense. “By the way, why are you all buried up like that? C’mon, you can’t hate me that much, can you?”

“No, it’s possible,” you quip.

He snorts at your response before he coos, “but I haven’t seen your face in a while! I miss you!”

Hoseok’s hand reaches for your hood, his palm placing flat against the top of your head as he gently attempts to nudge it down only to have you stubbornly grabbing both sides of your hood to prevent it from falling; it’s not like you think you look bad per say, but having Hoseok specifically request for a glimpse of you makes you all the more self conscious. You’re sick. Your nose is red from excessive blowing of tissues, your eyes suffer from dark circles, and your hair is too much of a mess to present to others… but the thing is, none of those thoughts crossed your mind when you marched through school just a few minutes ago. So what is the difference now?

The two of you engage in a mini tug of war challenge until suddenly, all movement comes to a halt and you can no longer feel the force of his hand other than having it rest comfortably against the top of your head.

You can hear him smirk, “...hey, isn’t this my sweater?”

And it’s at that moment that you’re almost certain your heart had stopped and you could no longer breathe.

“No,” you mutter under your breath, finally twisting the doorknob and barging through your door. Whirling around, you attempt to slam the door closed before he could enter, but all efforts are fruitless when he skillfully sticks his foot in the small slit between the door and the remaining distance to the door frame.

“No, I’m pretty sure it is,” he erupts into cackles, “are you really going to shut me out of your house because you’re too scared to admit you’re attached to my sweater? Even when I brought you some food, thinking you were sick and not prancing around outside in my clothes?”

You grit your teeth and bury yourself and your reddening cheeks further into the hoodie, your entire body heating up at his teasing, “shut up or I’m going to lock you out.”

“Weren’t you going to do that anyways?” he quips from the other side of the door. You can just imagine the smug smile plastered across his face. “Open up or people will wonder why I’m at your house and I’m just going to have to tell them you stole my sweater from me!”

Whipping the door open, you turn to storm back into your house without sparing another glimpse at Hoseok, “fine, you win. Close and lock the door, will you?”

“Yes, love,” he chirps mockingly and does as you instruct as you roll your eyes.

Plopping down on your couch, you bury yourself under a bundle of bedsheets, covering half your face up until only your eyes can be seen. Hoseok’s heavy footsteps taps against your wooden floor and echoes across your house, and while you usually would scold Junghwa for jumping around in your house so loudly, you can’t help but become entranced by the eloquence of his steps akin to the heavy beats of a song blasting through small speakers of the dance room. And plus, as much as you hate to admit it, you like noticing these small things about Hoseok that others may not get to see.

“So are you ever going to explain to me why you’re wearing my sweater?” he asks, setting the plastic bag hooked on his slender, soft looking fingers onto the coffee table before you and plopping down next to you on the couch.

“Well, are you ever going to tell me why you quit the dance club?”

He pauses, and you can catch him pursing his lips in the corner of your eyes, “...touché. But I didn’t quit, I’m just taking a break.”

“Same thing,” you snort.

“And it’s not like I’m never going to tell you. C’mon, I promised you I’d tell you as long as you don’t fall for me,” he laughs before smirking, “but seeing how you’re already wearing my clothes, I don’t know if I’ll ever have to tell you—”

“Do you want to stay or not?” you groan, burying your face further underneath your blanket as you shut your eyes in sheer embarrassment.

Why does he always love to tease you like this? But despite the fact that your cheeks burn so brightly and your entire body radiates off heat from the increase of blood flow, you take pleasure in being teased by Hoseok. In a way, it makes you two that much closer, somewhat like friends, and somehow you start to wonder if you’re the only one he teases like this. But when you think about it more, you remember he’s known for playing with girls. You can’t let your guard down. Plus, he’s right about this little bet of yours. If you want the answer to your questions, then you’d have to win. And flustering like this is most definitely a step in the wrong direction.

“Fine, I do, I do. I’ll stop teasing now,” he chuckles, hands lifting to the hem of the blanket resting on the bridge of your nose. His knuckles graze against your already burning cheeks, sending blazes of fire across the surface of your skin as you gulp and your heart nearly jumps from your chest. So when he gently tugs on the blanket to tuck underneath your chin, you’re caught off guard and the blanket easily slips from your gripping fingers. And for the first time in a few days, you peer up to lock eyes with his own soft ones, too close for your own good. He gives you that charming lopsided grin of his, “no, really, stop covering yourself with all of that.”

“It’s your fault for not giving me a warning before coming over,” you mumble, barely able to breathe when the two of you speak eye to eye. “My face isn’t even presentable in this state. Sorry if you’re disappointed—”

“No, that’s not what I’m looking for,” he chuckles, cinching his brows at your remark. “I’m telling you to stop covering your face because I’m genuinely worried you’re going to suffocate underneath all that. Aren’t you hot?”

“...not really,” you lie, averting your eyes when the burning of your cheeks only push you closer to brink of sweating right then and there.

“Alright, if you’re too attached to my sweater to take it off, just feel free to say so. I’ll lend you my other clothes if you really want, ow,” he breaks out into a fit of laughs when you punch his arm and turns his wide eyes to meet your glaring ones, “hey, I’m just joking! I’m just trying to convince you to take that damn jacket off! It’s hot as hell in here!”

“But I look like a mess!” you exclaim.

“No, you don’t!” he scoffs in disbelief. “You look damn perfect to me! Now give me this blanket!”

Huffing at his persistence, you remove the hood from your head and throw the blanket off to the side. A rush of cold air brushes against your bare skin and relieves it from the previous heat of your sheets. Hoseok’s right, he could see right through you, because you really were dying underneath all of those sheets and clothing. And so of course, you cross your arms and refuse to admit it, but that doesn’t stop him from widening his eyes in surprise before smugly smiling to himself in triumph.

“See? Your hair looks effortlessly perfect. Your bare face is as breathtaking as ever. You look great, so stop hiding that pretty face of your from me, alright?” he quickly says, turning away to occupy himself with the contents of bags.

His sweet words come to him so naturally that you’re not sure if you should be ashamed of yourself for being touched. And even though your heart skips at his endless compliments, it’s impossible to deny the juxtaposition of the drop in your stomach when you realize you were looking for more of a reaction. What exactly were you looking for? Were you hoping his jaws would drop and all air would be knocked from his lungs at the mere sight of you? Aren’t you falling too quickly for his way with words and dancing yourself right into the palm of his hands?

“So why’re you here?” you take a deep breath and sigh.

“To feed my sick girlfriend,” he dips a plastic spoon into the bowl of congee, blows gently across the steam which evaporates into the air, and brings it to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “don’t call me that. We’re not even dating.”

“Aren’t we technically dating? Open up, love,” Hoseok furthermore teases, a snicker coming from his lips as he pushes the spoon against your closed lips. “Ahhh. Or are you going to be a baby and need me to pretend this is an airplane?”

“I have a cold. It’s not like I don’t have arms or some—”

—in goes the spoon.

“Good girl,” Hoseok coos, removing the spoon from your lips and returning it to the bowl of congee.

You hate to say it, but the entire situation and vibe he gives off would’ve given anyone, including you, the wrong impression. Here he is, a casual gray sweater and mustard colored snapback thrown on backwards in a haste to meet you, someone he’s supposedly seeing all for a silly bet, and feeding you some homemade food to his sick pretend girlfriend. Everything about him, his teasing, and the warm atmosphere of tonight screams of more than a fake relationship. But does he notice it? Does he notice the change in the air? The fact that he’s acting so damn casual and calm around you in your own house angers you all the more. Glimpsing back over his shoulder, he only laughs at your silent death glare.

“What?” he raises a brow.

“Nothing,” you mutter. Quick, think of something to get back at him. “Do you want to attend your club’s annual spring boot camp?”

“First off,” Hoseok frowns, placing the spoon back into the bowl and leaning back into the couch, “it’s not my club. Second, no, I don’t.”

“Why not?” you question, brows furrowing. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, a part of you still longs for the day Hoseok returns to the stage, and the bootcamp sounds perfect for that. “Jimin says they’re completely behind schedule and they don’t know what to do without their dance captain.”

“They’ll be fine. They can ask Keiko anyways,” he deadpans, glimpsing at you before adding, “Keiko’s our last dance captain.”

“...Keiko?” you repeat. It’s dumb for this to finally reoccur to you, but you had totally forgotten how Hoseok had first asked you out on a date due to a bet he had made with his own friends. You’re just a pawn in the midst of his plans in acquiring feelings from his ultimate goal. “...do you still talk to her?”

He quirks a brow, “not particularly.”

Odd. A contradiction to Keiko’s words. One of them had to be lying, and if you’re being fair, Hoseok is the more likely one.

“Just wondering, but do you ever regret quitting dance? Don’t you regret letting people down? Or is there anyone you wish you had gotten to know better?” you gulp when the words slip from you before you could take them back. “People from the club? People who were going to join the club?”

He glances at you with a raised brow before turning away to stare at the window absent of the usual sunlight flooding through across the two of you. “No. It’s not like I remember every single member.”

That’s a lie. As people had fawned over him for, he always knew the name of every single member.

“I don’t miss having people watching me dance. I don’t miss the stage.”

Another lie.

“I don’t miss trying so hard to recruit new members only to be turned down when they don’t show up the next day at practice,” Hoseok mutters, and you’re pierced with a sense of guilt. Is he alluding to you…? Does he remember you? Does he remember the fateful night you two had spent together only to let him come crashing down the next day? Or were you just one of many? “...but I do wonder where she went.”

She?

“Who—”

“But let’s not talk about that anymore,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile, “you promised me, after all.”

Ah, something about his smile irks you to the point that your chest aches and your guts twist in pain. His smile. It isn’t genuine. It isn’t as genuine as it used to be.

Hoseok chuckles in the midst of the silence, “actually… come to think of it, I did give you a warning. I texted you fifteen minutes before coming over. Why didn’t you reply?”

Looking over his shoulder, he finds you staring at him in silence. Hoseok quirks a brow at the parting of your lips that fails to utter a single explanation.

“...I didn’t receive your texts,“ you blink and he reciprocates your blank stare.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raises a brow, eyes trailing to the coffee table where your phone lies.

Your phone.

Hoseok.

Your phone.

Hoseok.

Glimpsing between your phone and Hoseok, you immediately spring forward in a vain attempt to retrieve your device, for when you’re up and on your feet, you realize your phone is right in Hoseok’s hands. Raising his hands up above his head and high into the air where you fail to reach despite numerous jumps, Hoseok takes his own phone from his pocket to dial in your number.

And sure enough, his number and contact name pops up on your screen.

“Ew, Hoseok?!” he exclaims, mouth gaping at the name you had given him on your phone. “When did you change this because last time I remember it was just Hoseok?!”

“I changed it because it more accurately portrays my feelings towards you, hmph,” you stick your tongue out at him and snatch your phone back.

“Says the one wearing my sweater!”

“Hey, you promised you’d stop!”

“Then change it!” he exclaims.

The two of you wrestle around, tugging and pulling and pushing every which way in an attempt to win over the phone. But alas, as fate has it, the phone somehow flies off into the air across the room and the two of you collapse back onto the couch—you underneath Hoseok and Hoseok over you.

He’s too close. His nose just an inch from grazing against yours and his lips just a couple of inches from meeting yours. His eyes gaze right down and straight into your own wide ones, except his is unfazed. You gulp. You can feel his heat radiating off his body and onto yours, his hands by your each side of your head and holding him up from collapsing onto you. His heavy, mint scented breathing brushes across your lips, sending tingles down your spine, and his usual deodorant overwhelming you in a cloud of a dazed moment.

“Come to think of it…” he says, not budging a single inch. “You do look strikingly familiar…”

Your eyes pop open and he smirks in reaction, leaning in closer and closer by the second. Is he really going in for it...? You panic for what to do before your instincts calls for you to place a hand against his chest and push him away, “get off me already!”

Lifting his cap to run a hand through his hair and reposition his snapback, he chuckles and leans over to grab another spoonful of congee, “I was just joking around. It’s not like I was actually gonna kiss you or anything. Now finish this food or you’re wasting my efforts.”

He might’ve been joking around about the kiss, but something tells you he’s not quite joking around about the remark which slipped from his lips unknowingly.

And just like that, you spend the rest of your day with Hoseok. Teasing, laughing, smacking, and just being the two polar opposites that you are akin to the sun and the moon until the day ends the second the clock strikes midnight.

321 notes · View notes

taephilia · 4 years ago

Text

through time and space

part of @heartsforbtsnet‘s hearts for halloween event!

pairing: kim seokjin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, sci-fi, adventure, time travel au, doctor who au

word count: 10,694 (oops)

warnings/content: swearing, alcohol consumption, if you’ve watched doctor who then this is based off of river song and the doctor

summary: as a universe-renown time traveller, you’re a fairly common household name. From intergalactic governments to planets themselves, your help is needed across the universe; whether it be uniting an alien orphan with its human parents or playing peacemaker between two alien races that have both committed genocide against the other and are at the verge of war. You’ve seen countless faces, heard hundreds of names, but one has always stayed with you, following you like a shadow: kim seokjin.

a/n: this took me SO long mainly bc it’s been years since i watched doctor who and i still never quite understood how the doctor and river’s timelines worked. and it took me so long to even wrap my head around this fic’s timeline so hopefully this all makes sense. if you have any questions, feel free to send them in because time travel is very complicated and every interpretation of it is different and the fact that time just isn’t linear in this can make it very confusing. also this is unedited/not proofread bc i procrastinated, rushed some parts, lost motivation, like to live life on the edge, etc. you know how it is. also yes it’s late i’m sorry, i’m not even going to say why because it’s really embarrassing lmfao

tag list: @suhdays @ggukkieland @hesperantha

i. planet busan in the year of AFI-283

Taking a walk through a city that you’ve never been to before in the morning is usually something you quite enjoy, but after having to save a neighboring town from an invasive species (which involved a lot of running away from giant man-eating worms which were the invasive species in question), your thighs are burning more than usual and all you want to do is get back to your ship and go home. You feel a bit guilty as everyone walks around you, grumbling underneath their breath about how slow you’re walking, just looking around like you have all the time in the world, but you figure that you deserve to admire the sights for just a little bit. And besides, you’re a time traveler—technically you do have all the time in the world.

As you get closer to the alleyway that you parked your ship in (and that you hope is still there), a strange whirring noise begins to sound out throughout the street, causing everyone around you to slow down and look for the source. A strange glowing orb appears in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of you and everyone around you either runs away or stands around it, scared but fascinated at the same time. You watch the orb grow brighter and brighter, shielding your eyes against the light with one hand while the other reaches down for the blaster gun on your hip. When the light is finally gone, there’s a metal booth standing in the middle of the street with smoke rising off of it. A strange banging noise can be heard coming from the inside of the machine so you slowly walk up to the door and knock, everyone around you waiting with bated breath to see what kind of creature would emerge.

All you see though when the door opens is a set of broad shoulders before you’re pressed up against someone, their arms wrapped tightly around you as they sway you side to side. They pull back to look at you and you’re met with bright brown eyes and possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. And said handsome man still has his arms wrapped around you and although you’re sort of wondering if you actually got eaten by one of those worms and died and went to heaven, you’re also wondering who the hell he is.

“Stunned to see me, sweetheart?” he teases you and you swear that your heart rate picks up at the pet name. “I know that my good looks can be quite shocking sometimes but you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Which we both know isn’t possible since ghosts aren’t real.” He rolls his eyes and laughs as if he made some sort of joke, and before you can even begin to process just what exactly is happening, the man leans down and presses his lips against yours. When he pulls away, he stares into your eyes and says softly, “But the fact that you look so beautiful this early in the morning is upsetting… yet amazing.”

Your brain short-circuits at that and you jump back from him in shock. You have to take a moment to look around, to look at literally anything or anyone but the man that just kissed you as a greeting, to stop your face from heating up even more and your heart from jumping out of your chest. The crowd that had first gathered around the booth had already dispersed during your brief interaction, people walking around you and only stopping to glance when you jumped back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, although exactly what you’re apologizing for you have no idea. “But have we… met before?” Or done something more than just meet and somehow I experienced amnesia right after, you think to yourself, your lips still tingling from when they were pressed against his.

The man in front of you pulls out a journal and you’re taken aback at how it just seemed to appear out of nowhere. As he’s flipping through the pages, you stare at the purple cover and wonder where exactly he was hiding it before. He glances up at you and stops turning the pages when he sees you just staring at him, as if he expects you to be doing something as well.

After a few seconds of the two of you just staring at each other, him in expectancy and you in utter confusion, he lets out a sigh. “What year is it on this planet? Where even are we? Planet Busan, correct?” he asks, hand poised over the pages as he awaits your answer.

At this point, you’re just convinced that this guy is crazy and you’re witnessing some sort of psychotic episode. Once you manage to get yourself out of this situation, you’ll definitely need to contact someone about him. But for now, you’ll play along. “Yeah, we’re on Planet Busan. It’s AFI-283,” you answer, eyebrows raising when he immediately begins thumbing through the pages.

His eyes flicker back and forth as he skims whatever is written down before finally stopping somewhere in the middle of the journal. You watch as his eyes widen before looking up at you and then back down at the journal. He lets out a little stunned “huh” before pursing his lips and closing the book. He takes a step closer to you as his eyes meet yours, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s analyzing you or something because of how hard he’s staring at you. Who is this guy?

“So you don’t know me?” the man questions and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. That’s all he got out of this?

“Am I supposed to?” you retort as you cross your arms over your chest, getting a bit impatient at this man’s behavior. You just need to find the right time to slip away and-

“Well not to brag or anything but I am a pretty famous time traveler,” he informs you, interrupting your train of thought at the mention of the words ‘time traveler’. When he sees you perk up at the end of his sentence, he smirks and does a little bow for you. “Kim Seokjin at your service, madame.”

Your eyes widen upon hearing his name. “You’re Kim Seokjin?” you ask, partly in awe but also partly in disbelief.

Everyone who’s anyone knows about Kim Seokjin; he’s one of the most famous time travelers throughout the universe, and the fact that you’ve heard about him since you were young and now he’s standing in front of you looking as young as ever really says a lot. Namely, this guy is good—like, really good. So good in fact that it made you kind of dislike the guy the more you heard his name. When you first completed your training to become a time traveler on your home planet of Earth, you had been so excited for what the universe had to offer. Diplomatic meetings, running from space monsters, traveling in your very own spaceship; you wanted it all. And as the top of your class in your space academy, you thought you could have it. But any time you did something, it was always “Oh well, did you hear that Kim Seokjin saved an entire planet from being eaten by a Weblum last week?” and “Good ol’ Seokjin’s already done that, gonna have to do something more impressive.” Seokjin this, Seokjin that. They always compared your results to his rather than being happy that you’re the first student in nearly 50 years to even come close to results like his. And now here you are, on a random planet meeting the one person you’re always compared to, and he’s stumbled out of a-

“What even is that?” you ask, pointing to the metal booth that he stepped out of only minutes ago. “I don’t think that that time machine is a standard issue.”

“Have you never seen a coin noraebang before?” he questions you in response, looking taken aback when you shake your head. “Seriously? You’ve never done karaoke with your friends at the arcade or anything? Popped in just to sing that one song that’s been stuck in your head all day?” You shake your head once more and he sighs. “You’re making me feel really old right now. Why don’t I just show you?”

He steps aside and offers to let you take the lead, the door to his ‘noraebang’ wide open but you can’t see anything at all except for darkness and a few blinking lights. Your eyes go back and forth between the machine and him, wondering if you should just make a run for it at this point. After everything you’ve heard about Kim Seokjin, you wish you had learned that he’s probably crazy.

“You’re kidding, right?” you scoff as you gesture to the machine. “This thing barely looks like it fits you, how the hell is it supposed to fit the two of us?”

He places one foot over the threshold, both hands braced on the door frame on either side of him, and looks down at you curiously. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N); valedictorian of the class of 2193 at the Earth Space Academy, rookie time traveler but already making a name for yourself, and fluent in 17 languages on planet Earth alone. All of that and you can’t understand the basic concepts of wibbly wobbly, time-y wime-y stuff?”

“Of what?” you laugh. You notice his ears go red and can’t help but feel a bit endeared at his embarrassment.

“Just get in here, will you,” he groans before entering the darkness. His hand pops out when you don’t immediately follow, shaking insistently at you, and you let out a reluctant sigh before grabbing it and allowing him to pull you inside.

You brace yourself as you step inside, fully expecting to slam right into him, but you’re met with nothing but air. When you open your eyes, you’re standing in a giant control room, buttons and levers surrounding multiple screens that display different universes, different angles of the noraebang, and different views of the city from where the machine sits. The ceilings are high with windows that allow the sunlight to come in and all around you are multiple doors leading to who knows where. Seokjin clears his throat after a few minutes of you staring around in awe and you jump because you had almost forgotten he was even there with you.

“So,” he smirks as he runs a hand along one of the control panels. “Not the tiny metal booth that you thought it would be, huh?”

“I don’t understand,” you breathe out as you stretch your own hand out to run along the walls of the room. “How is this even possible? It’s- It’s bigger on the inside! This room itself is already bigger than I thought it would be but those doors-” You point to the doors around you, ignoring the look of amusement on Seokjin’s face. “Just how many rooms are there?”

He holds out a hand to you with a smile and gestures towards one of the doors on his right. “Care to take a look?”

You place your hand eagerly into his and allow him to give you a tour of his noraebang time machine. You walk through so many different rooms that it’s hard to remember what the previous one was like after you enter a new one, especially since Seokjin is telling you about different planets he’s visited and people he’s met while doing so. There are rooms for different environments and climates, rooms with animals, rooms for different time periods on different planets, normal rooms like bedrooms and bathrooms, and even a kitchen. He talks about planets completely covered by liquid nitrogen, lizard people living underground, and a purple elephant floating through space. There’s a game room, a movie theater, an observatory, a pool, and-

You hear feet scurry by behind you as Seokjin explains the physics behind the gravitational pull of Planet Haxor’s moons but when you turn around, all you see is a flash of hair and a shadow before it’s gone. Seokjin notices your distracted stare and looks at where you’re looking, but sees nothing.

“Sorry,” you apologize as you force your gaze away from the doorway across the hall and back to him. “I thought I saw something. Are you the only one in here? There’s no one else?”

He’s about to answer when you hear a dull thud and what you think sounds like a whispered “shit!” and you can’t help but edge closer to him. Seokjin laughs at the noise, but he sounds a bit nervous as he explains, “Oh that’s just my Flerken, that darned thing! I don’t know where she learned those bad words from. Anyways, that’s the end of the tour!” He ushers you out of the room and back to the main control room, his footsteps quick, and you wonder just what exactly he’s hiding. And who or what that was that you heard because you know for a fact that Flerkens can’t talk. “So what do you think?”

“What do I think?” you ask in response, your hands gesturing around vaguely as you look around the vast room once more. “I think that this is the weirdest day I’ve ever had and you’re probably the most insane but interesting person that I’ve ever met.”

Seokjin ponders over your words for a moment before shrugging. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Anyways, I was thinking that maybe we could-” A loud beeping noise interrupts him, numbers and symbols that you don’t recognize appearing on a screen that cause him to panic and jump into action. “Gonna need a rain check, I have to go. Gotta take care of some of that time-y wime-y stuff I was telling you about,” he explains as he’s pushing buttons and turning knobs. He waves his arm towards the doors and they open, revealing the bustling city sidewalk that you had been standing on- How long ago was it? An hour ago? A few minutes? It seemed like time had stopped the second you stepped foot into the noraebang.

The time traveler all but shoos you out when he sees you lingering in his control room and he’s about to close the door on you when you block it with your hand. “One more question,” you say, hoping that he’ll oblige you. “I’m 100% certain that we’ve never met before so how do you know my name?”

He seems taken aback at the question but then a smirk appears on his face, one that you’ve become all too familiar with even though you’ve just met. “Spoilers,” he teases you as he brings a finger up to his lips before shutting the doors.

There’s a whirring sound and you step back from the machine, watching as a light begins to engulf it that grows brighter and brighter, so bright that you have to shield your eyes. There’s a whoosh! and when you look, Seokjin and his time machine are gone.

ii. daechwita mountains on the yoon planet in the year of 9-T-41

You watch with a frown as the acid snow and gigantic crystals continue to fall from the sky, mentally cursing your curious nature that led to you being stuck in a cave for the night. At least, you hope that it’s only for the night. You had been flying home after another successful mission when you realized that today was the day where all 5 of the Yoon Planet’s moons would line up for a quintuple lunar eclipse. You of course couldn’t miss out on this opportunity and thought that a little pit stop wouldn’t delay your plans too much. You were wrong obviously. And now here you are, in a cave on the top of one of the Daechwita Mountains, with only a jacket, the keys to your ship, three granola bars, and a half empty bottle of water. Just great. Leaning against the wall, you close your eyes and pray for a miracle. You don’t know exactly what but that’s the point, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to know until they happen?

As you begin to accept the reality of the situation, you let your mind wander to get yourself to calm down and your thoughts begin to drift towards a certain time traveler that you first met a few months ago. A certain, very confusing time traveler that is; with pretty brown eyes, the most infectious laugh you’ve ever heard, and-

Wait what, you interrupt yourself, physically shaking your head to get yourself to stop thinking… whatever it was that you were thinking.

Back to Seokjin. You think that the universe must be playing some sort of trick on you now because ever since your first meeting, you seem to be running into the guy everywhere you go. The second time the two of you met, he had had no recollection of giving you a tour of his noraebang time machine. You had thought he was twisting your leg or something but when he informed you that he’s never even owned a Flerken before, you decided to just drop the subject. The more you ran into each other, the weirder Seokjin would get. Sometimes he would recall your previous meetings and his personality would be similar to the first time you met him; flirty, completely comfortable around you, and a bit loud and obnoxious. Other times, he would only recall a select few and his personality would be similar to the second time you met him; awkward, shy, and seems like he has no idea what he’s doing ever. Just as you were starting to wonder how long he was going to keep this charade going, he somehow found the answer to your unspoken question.

“Opposite timelines,” he said to you in lieu of a greeting, not bothering to explain further as he walked beside you in the busy marketplace.

You struggled to keep up with him as you dodged and weaved around people and you watched as he plucked a purple book off of one of the stands, paid for it, and then handed it over to you. You looked down at the book in his hands and then up at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. You think he purposefully doesn’t elaborate on things for the dramatic effect, which is so very like him. He took your hand and placed the book in it before continuing to walk, this time making sure that you’re keeping up with him so that you heard what he was saying.

“Imagine two lines going in opposite directions,” he started off, trying his best to give you a simplified explanation because he knows that, even for a time traveler, sometimes this kind of stuff isn’t the easiest to understand. “Sometimes, the lines will intersect. Sometimes, one line will do a loop and circle back and intersect with the other line towards its beginning. That line is still going forward in time but in the context of the other line, it’s in the past. Does that make sense?”

You nodded along and looked down at the notebook, surprised to find that it had the exact same cover as the one that Seokjin pulled out when you first met him. You were about to ask him about it but refrained from doing so. If what he said is true and the two of you really do have opposite timelines, you could potentially cause problems if you brought up something specific that he doesn’t know about. “So what’s this for then?” you asked instead, gesturing to the book in your hands.

“That is for you to keep track of each and every time that we meet,” he answered. “Make sure that it’s in your chronological order. That way, whenever it is that we meet again, we can compare journals and see where we are in each other’s timeline and it’ll help us know what not to talk about. Time has never been too fond of spoilers.”

It still makes your head hurt a bit whenever you think about it, but it has come in handy ever since he gave it to you. And you find that you do quite enjoy thinking about your adventures with Jin a lot—and thinking about Jin in general. The man practically lives in your mind rent free at this point with how often you think about him, it’s starting to get a bit ridiculous. But you know that it would never work out anyways. Aside from the whole opposite timelines thing, you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard about Jin returning to Earth. He’s always jumping off cliffs and running from planetary authorities but you? You have your family to think about, your job is what’s getting your brother through college right now. You have responsibilities, people who depend on you, a reputation to maintain. Jin would never understand.

You jump as a particularly large crystal hits the ground outside, shattering into smaller pieces with a deafening crack. And although the sudden sound is what initially makes you jump, it’s the scream accompanying it from outside that causes fear to flood your entire body. You watch as a figure enters the cave and approaches you, and you shakily hold up your water bottle in what you hope is a threatening position, praying that they mistake it for a weapon of some kind. They shine their flashlight in your face and you panic as you lose sight of them due to the blinding light, and you’re about to begin just thrashing around wildly to ward them off when you hear a familiar voice call out, “(Y/N)?”

You lower your water bottle as they lower their flashlight, and as your eyes adjust, you let out a sigh when you see that it’s just Seokjin. Wait- “Seokjin? What the hell are you doing here?” you ask incredulously. Out of all places for him to turn up…

“I could ask you the same question,” he answers as he gestures to your supplies, or lack thereof you should say. “Are you trying to die here or something? You don’t even have a full bottle of water.”

Seokjin sits beside you and puts a blanket around the two of you that he pulled from his backpack, and you don’t even feel any shame as you scoot closer to him, his body heat too tempting. “I stopped by after a mission because it’s the only time I could see the lunar eclipse,” you explain. “I didn’t bother checking the weather and before I knew it, the storm came and this was the only place I could go to for shelter.”

“You do realize you’re a time traveler, right?” Seokjin teases you, smiling as he takes the granola bar that you offer to him. “You could just look up all of the dates that Yoon has had a quintuple lunar eclipse and choose one to go to.”

“No unauthorized time traveling, remember?” you point out, wondering just how long it’s actually been since Seokjin graduated for him to already be forgetting the academy’s most basic rules. “They put trackers on our ships.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” he muses before crumpling up the wrapper in his hands and tossing it aside. “Guess that’s what happens when you become a time rogue and all-”

“Wait a second,” you interrupt him. Did he really just say what you think he said? “Did you just say that you’re a time rogue?”

He blinks at you slowly as if waiting for you to start laughing and tell him that you were joking. Instead, you stare directly back at him, the expression on your face still the same as you wait for him to tell you that he’s joking. That he wasn’t serious about being a wanted criminal because he’s broken at least one of the Universal Laws of Time and Space.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he answers. “Since around the time you graduated from the academy, I think. Last I heard, they’ve still been sending out emails about me and the incorrect anonymous tips that they get about my last known locations.”

“I haven’t checked my email since I became a traveler,” you admit sheepishly. “I just report back after a mission and then wait for Captain Namjoon to give me a new assignment.”

“Captain Kim Namjoon?” Seokjin asks and you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“...Yes, Captain Kim Namjoon. Why?”

“That bastard,” he mutters before chuckling to himself. When you look over at him, he’s staring out into the storm and even though he’s right next to you, his gaze looks very far away. “I always knew he was cut out to be a captain. Never believed me though.”

You don’t say anything, knowing that he’s not talking to you, simply content to just sit beside him and watch the storm outside rage on. He begins to hum and as your eyes begin to close, you wonder if it’s one of those songs he would sing at karaoke with his friends before you fall asleep.

While you’re fast asleep on his shoulder, Jin grants himself the luxury of staring at you. You look so relaxed, so open, nothing like you are when you’re awake. He wishes he could save you, whisk you off to some faraway galaxy in his time machine where no one would ever find you. But he knows that that’s too good to be true. He knows your fate, has seen it with his own eyes, and he can’t mess with time, no matter how much he wants to. So he’ll give himself these few hours of your company while he waits for the storm to pass, let himself savor your presence before the guilt takes over. He just hopes that you can find it within yourself to forgive him for leaving you once more.

iii. orbiting around star bt21 in the vantae galaxy, year unknown

You grimace as you swallow the caffeine pill, hoping that it’ll kick in soon otherwise you’ll be falling asleep during this upcoming meeting. You mentally curse Namjoon for forcing you to fly all the way out to Planet Mang on one of your rare days off, wanting nothing more than to just turn around and fly back home so you can crawl back into bed. But no, you “have a job to do” and if you don’t go, you’ll “make the Space Academy look bad”. Whatever that means. You’re just one out of the five time travelers going to represent Earth, you don’t think it would be that bad if you didn’t show up. Namjoon didn’t like it when you brought this up though and threatened to bench you for the few upcoming missions, so you shut your mouth very quickly after that.

As you’re passing through Vantae Galaxy, you spot a familiar floating metal booth orbiting around the BT21 star. Now that you know that Seokjin’s a time rogue, you figure that he’s just been traveling all of time and space to see whatever sites he’d like to see but you didn’t take him for an average tourist. Everyone who’s anyone from the Space Academy knows that the popular star isn’t really worth the travel time that it takes to get there. But upon closer inspection, you see that it looks like the time machine isn’t even… on. As this discovery processes in your brain, you watch it float through space for a brief second before immediately jumping into action, grabbing your helmet and getting your ship as close as you can to Seokjin’s noraebang.

Clinging on to the outside of your ship, you slowly make your way towards the door, hooking your ship up to Seokjin’s so that it doesn’t float away. You open the doors and place a foot on to the threshold, the machine’s artificial gravity taking effect as you step inside. You’re immediately hit by the cold that seems to have taken over the entire main control room, frost covering every surface and icicles even hanging from the ceiling. The entire machine seems to have powered down and you’re about to call out Seokjin’s name when you hear a thump from the other side of the circular control panel. You approach hesitantly, nervous for what you might find on the other side, but let out a breath of relief when you see that it’s just Seokjin.

But then you immediately begin to panic when you see that the thump was from him slumping over on to the floor. Running over to him, you frantically begin to shake him awake, hugging his body close to yours to give him some semblance of heat. “Jin,” you call out loudly as his head lolls on to your shoulder. “Seokjin, wake up!”

When nothing seems to be working, you heave him up with a grunt, tossing one of his arms over your shoulder before lugging him over to the doors. But as you pull on the handle, it doesn’t budge. You inspect the hinges and the edges for any ice or frost but find none. You pull on the door a couple of more times, panic beginning to rise as it resists. You set Seokjin down, leaning him against the wall, and take a deep breath. You look at your surroundings and then back at the man below you, hoping that some sort of idea will come to you. But nothing does.

You walk over to the control panel and begin looking over every button, hoping that maybe there’s just an “ON” button that you haven’t seen. As you’re desperately scanning the control panel for any sort of answer, you can’t help but think back to a conversation you had with Seokjin regarding his noraebang. He had been rambling on about some crystal that he found in the crust of one of Jupiter’s moons when he caught you leaning against the control panel.

“Don’t lean against that!” he exclaimed, rushing over to shoo you away. “Jeongguk is sensitive, he doesn’t like when people do that.”

You spun in a circle after he said, looking around for this Jeongguk that he mentioned. Perhaps it was that person (or that Flerken, you should say) that you saw the first time Jin showed you his time machine? But you found yourselves completely alone. “Who’s Jeongguk?” you asked, knowing that he wouldn’t give you any sort of explanation unless you did.

“My noraebang,” he said as if it was obvious. “I named him Jeongguk. Does your ship not have a name?”

Is he being serious right now? you asked yourself as you stared at him and with the way that he went back to casually cleaning, you could only assume that he was. “No because it’s a machine, not a living thing.”

Jin gasped at that, pressing a hand up to the wide glass column that the circular control panel surrounds. “How dare you say that!” he said, eyes accusatory as he glared at you. He rubbed his hand along the glass, as if comforting the time machine as he cooed, “Don’t worry, Jeonggukkie, she’s just in a bad mood today is all. Of course she knows you’re alive.”

I’m friends with a crazy person.

Looking back on it even now, you still don’t believe that Seokjin’s time machine is “alive” like he said it is. But you’re desperate and Jin is starting to look paler by the minute so-

“Jeongguk please,” you whisper, your hand pressed against the glass as you stare at it. You don’t know what you expect to see and even if the time machine is alive, you don’t even know where its eyes could possibly be. “Please wake up.”

You look around but nothing seems to change. You run over to Jin and hold a finger up under his nose, your heart beginning to race when you feel his breaths become shallower and spaced out even more. “Jeongguk, wake up!” you yell out, your voice echoing around the large space. “Seokjin’s in trouble, please, you have to help him! I don’t know any of the controls, I don’t know how to do anything. So please you have to wake up, you have to save him!”

Nothing.

Sinking down to the floor, you feel tears prick at your eyes as you pull Jin closer to you. You shrug off your jacket and wrap it around him, the harsh cold immediately hitting you and causing you to shiver. Jin’s eyes open just the tiniest bit, his voice soft as he whispers, “(Y/N)? What are you doing?”

You just shake your head and wrap your arms around him, closing your eyes as you pray for some sort of miracle. All of a sudden, you hear a soft whirring sound and when you pick your head up, you see some lights on the control panel begin to flicker. With bated breath, you watch as the noraebang starts to come back to life and it feels like your soul leaves your body when you feel a blast of heat coming from the vent behind you. You quickly tug Seokjin off of the floor and carry him to the first bedroom that you find, tucking him in before finding a chair and a blanket for yourself.

As you hold one of Seokjin’s hands between yours, you suddenly remember the diplomatic meeting you were supposed to be at. To hell with them, you think. One of your friends almost died, you think Namjoon will find it in him to understand. Your eyes trace over every feature of his face as he sleeps, and you once again struggle to push down the fondness and relief that you feel as you watch him. You know that this probably isn’t a good idea, letting yourself indulge in him in the way that you are. But just this once; just this one time you’ll allow yourself this.

You don’t remember falling asleep at Jin’s bedside but when you wake up, you find yourself seated in your ship. You wrack your brain but the memories of what just happened are a bit fuzzy. Even the feeling of the biting cold against your skin is fading.

Was it all a dream?

iv. in a bar on planet earth in the year 3004

The alcohol burns your throat as you swallow but you welcome the feeling, the dark cloud that’s been following you around all day finally beginning to clear up (figuratively of course, not to be confused with the actual dark cloud that was following you on Planet Gwangju). Nothing seemed to be going right that day, absolutely nothing had gone in your favor, so rather than go home and sleep off the long day as you usually do, you decided to go to the one bar that seems to stay in business no matter what year it is. There’s a couple on stage singing along to an old song (ancient’s more like it, you think the DJ said it was from 2091) but you ignore their off-key yelling in favor of waving down the bartender.

“Another, please,” you say, not even looking in his direction as you scan your watch to pay for your drink.

“You know, there is such a thing as an open tab,” the bartender says wryly as he mixes your drink. “I know that it’s an ancient concept but it still works pretty well.”

You roll your eyes before finally making eye contact with Yoongi, the both of you smiling at each other the second your eyes meet. That’s the other thing that doesn’t change about this bar, it’s always had your same favorite AI bartender. He was a bit confused at first as to whether or not you were also an AI because apparently the first time he met you was in 2398 but when you became of age and found the place with your friends from the academy, it was 2192 and you looked a lot younger than the first time. You explained to him that you were a time traveler so he must have met the future version of you and after a bit more explaining, he concluded that you were not in fact a fellow AI. So now whenever you come into the bar, always at the same time of night, Yoongi welcomes you with his classic small but fond smile, not even asking what you’d like to drink because he already knows.

“I have self-control, Yoon,” you scoff as you grab the drink that he places in front of you. “I don’t have an open tab because I don’t need one. I’m going to stop drinking soon.”

“Yeah well that frown on your face and faraway look in your eyes tells me otherwise,” Yoongi points out. Before you can respond though, another person calls him over and he walks away without a word.

“I don’t have a frown on my face,” you mutter to yourself before looking up at the mirror placed behind all of the alcohol bottles at the bar only to find that you do indeed have a frown on your face.

You sigh as you look away, eyes roaming over the people seated as well as on the dance floor, and you can’t help but feel a bit disgusted at the fact that the majority of them are couples. Usually you don’t even pay attention to that kind thing but you know exactly why you are right now. It’s the same reason you’ve been sad this entire week, the same reason you’ve started to question the Space Academy, the same reason your heart beats faster and butterflies appear in your stomach: Kim Seokjin. Since you saved him in the Vantae Galaxy about two months ago (which you now know to be real because you can’t find that jacket anywhere so it must be in his noraebang), you haven’t seen nor heard from him. No “thank you for saving my life”, no “hey sorry for leaving you literally every single time we meet”, not even a “who are you, have we met before?” You’d rather take a clueless, younger Seokjin than absolute radio silence.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see two large figures approaching you and heave out another sigh. You’re in no mood to be hit on or even threatened right now so you reach for the knife hidden in your jacket, but just as your hand touches the handle, an arm wraps around your waist and an annoyingly familiar voice exclaims quite loudly, “There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You look up and who do you see but none other than Jin in the flesh. His ears are bright red to match the color on his neck, and he takes no notice in you staring at his drunken figure as he glares at the two men while they hastily retreat. “Okay they’re gone,” you mutter when you see no sign of them, your voice a bit venomous as you push him away from you. “You can stop touching me now.”

There’s a look of vague surprise on his face when you push him away followed by resignation but it’s quickly followed up by a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it. “It’s great to see you, (Y/N)! How long has it been? Do you have your journal on-”

“Vantae Galaxy at the BT21 star,” you interrupt him to answer his unasked question. You don’t even need your journal anymore. You know your timeline to a T now; every single encounter with Seokjin, down to the planet and the year. “That’s the last time I saw you.”

His eyes widen at that and you pretend not to be hurt when he schools his features back to his happy-go-lucky personality. “Ah yes! The BT21 star, a marvelous star really. A bit tourist-y but you know, it wouldn’t be a popular tourist attraction if it wasn’t good.”

You only nod at his words, downing half of your drink to get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth. You make eye contact with Yoongi across the bar and you watch as he slightly tilts his head in Jin’s direction, and you silently laugh before subtly shaking your head. It’s nice of him to offer to save you, and part of you wants to take the offer, but you don’t need it. Not yet anyways.

“So,” you say to break the awkward silence, and you almost laugh at the way Jin jumps slightly in his seat, as if he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him. If you were him, you’d be surprised too with how coldly you’re treating him. “Why are you here?”

You order more drinks for the two of you as he tells you some story about a haunted dollhouse, an adopted alien orphan, demon dolls, and unknowing human parents. The alcohol seems to make him more animated and a lot louder as he talks, but the warm feeling that you get remains in your stomach as all of your anger slowly dissipates. You can’t find it in yourself to stay mad at him at this moment. His eyes are shining, his laughter is infectious, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. You don’t even notice when he stops talking but you definitely do notice when he rushes forward and kisses you right on the mouth.

His lips are soft, a bit chapped, but you welcome the feeling; well as much as you can when you’re frozen in shock. He pulls away when you don’t kiss him back, his eyes as big as saucers while his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I- I’m so sorry, oh my god- I don’t know what- oh shit-” he stammers out but you’re barely listening as you bring your fingers up to your lips because you know that the tingling you feel in them is definitely not from the alcohol.

You look up and Seokjin is still stuttering out apologies, his entire upper torso (from what you can see of it) red from both intoxication and embarrassment at what he just did. He’s so absorbed in trying to apologize that he doesn’t even notice you lean towards him until you’re practically nose to nose. He breathes out a, “What-”

And then you kiss him right on the mouth. You place a hand on his chest as you kiss him and he raises up two shaking hands to gently cup your face, and you smile against his lips when you hear him take a shuddering inhale through his nose. His hands slide down your neck, across your shoulders, to your back and you feel yourself practically melt when he pulls your body closer to his. Your hand fists at the fabric of his shirt and you’re about to step closer to him when he pulls away. Seokjin’s pupils are blown wide and he’s panting as he stares down at you like you just showed him all of the secrets of the universe.

“I- We-We’re in public, we shouldn’t-” he stutters out breathily, looking around as if to make sure no one is staring. Not that you could find it in yourself to care right now with the combination of adrenaline and alcohol running through your veins.

“This one’s on the house if the two of you leave after,” Yoongi mutters as he slides two more shots to you. “Can’t have you disgusting lovebirds ruining my bar like this.” Yoongi’s voice sounds disgusted but you can see the amusement in his eyes as he hands you an opportunity on a silver platter.

You throw the shot back and look at Jin who’s still looking at you like you’re a completely different person. “I know exactly where we can go,” you say with a wide smile. You lean closer and smirk at the man in front of you. “For some privacy, that is.”

Seokjin throws the shot back. “Lead the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly it is that wakes you up—the sunlight coming in through the crack in the curtains, your sore body, or the draft entering your cocoon of blankets—but you know that the pounding headache you’re experiencing definitely has something to do with it. You hear the clanking of metal and turn your head, eyes closing once more when you see that it’s just Seokjin putting his pants on.

Wait-

Your eyes fly open and you pick your head up when you realize that Seokjin is putting his clothes on in your hotel room. Every muscle and bone in your body protests as you slowly sit up and you see Jin’s movement stop when he notices that you’re awake. Your gaze meets his and you feel your stomach drop because the look in his eyes is so unfamiliar to you, you can’t gage what he’s feeling at all. You look at his wrinkled shirt, the pants that are only half on, and his bedhead as the events from last night slowly start coming back to you.

“I know exactly where we can go for some privacy.”

Oh shit.

“Good morning,” he finally greets you as he slowly pulls his pants up over his thighs. “I didn’t think you were awake. Did you sleep well?”

“Where are you going?” you ask, completely ignoring everything he just said. You know exactly what’s about to happen and you wish you didn’t because then maybe you wouldn’t have to be fighting the urge to cry right now.

“Oh uh, I have an important meeting to get to that I forgot about,” Seokjin answers. His voice is a bit higher and wavers a bit at the end and you wish he would just tell you the truth for once.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” you say, more of a statement than a question. And he knows exactly what you mean because he doesn’t answer, only continues to fiddle with the buttons on his sleeve. “I’m not letting you leave me behind again, Seokjin.”

He freezes at that and when he looks up at you, you feel your heart crack right down the middle because of how guilty he looks. “(Y/N)-”

“I know you feel it too,” you plead. Your voice sounds so desperate but it’s because you are. You’ll do anything to try to get him to stay. Just this once. “I’ve never felt this for anyone else the way that I feel about you, Jin. So why are you running away?”

He slowly begins to back away and you jump out of bed with the blanket held tightly to your chest. “(Y/N), please, don’t make this harder for me than it needs to be,” he requests, his voice pained though his eyes never leave you.

“It doesn’t have to be hard at all!” you argue, unable to keep your voice at a normal volume as you feel yourself growing more and more frustrated and more and more desperate. “Just stay. Here. With me. Why do you insist on leaving me?”

Jin grimaces at your question as he reaches behind him and slowly turns the door handle. “I guess it’s just what I do. Spoilers,” he shrugs and the way he just casually says that makes you want to throw up blood.

The door shuts behind him and you’re left standing in the middle of your hotel room. There are tears in your eyes, your head is pounding, and there’s only a thin blanket covering your naked body but you still run towards the door and throw it open. “Jin!” you yell out, but when you look down both sides of the hallway, he’s nowhere to be found.

v. koya prison in the year RJ-17

Thirty minutes have gone by and you’re still clueless as to what the hell is going on around you. The prison guards don’t even try to understand what you’re saying, all of the other inmates are either fighting or laughing with each other, and the guy that was taken in for questioning has been gone for fifteen of those minutes. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to help out a bunch of vigilantes but what can you say? You root for the underdog. You walk over to one of the guys that was leading the group, kicking his leg and disturbing him of the nap he seemed to think was an excellent idea to be taking right now.

“Hey, what the fuck’s going on?” you ask harshly, frustrated at the fact that you literally couldn’t understand the language of the majority of the people around you. You pride yourself on knowing a number of languages known across multiple galaxies, but of course you happen to land in a prison where none of that matters. This usually wouldn’t be a problem if you were wearing your watch, which is able to translate what others say to you and vice versa, but of course, they confiscated that as soon as you were admitted.

“My buddy’s in there getting interrogated right now,” he answers gruffly while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “But don’t worry, he knows what to do. We’ve trained for situations like this, he’ll get us out. Nobody’s getting executed today.”

“Executed?” you shriek, causing some people to turn around and look over at you. You smile weakly at them before crouching down so that you’re face-to-face with the guy, and you’re sure that the panic that you’re feeling right now is very evident. “Nobody said anything about getting executed.”

He gives you a look of disdain, and if you weren’t in such a tight spot, you’d probably feel offended. Part of you still does. “We led a failed revolution to overthrow a government, what did you think was going to happen? They’d keep us here for the night and then give us a slap on the wrist before letting us go?”

Before you can even begin to think of a response, the man who was being interrogated is returned to the cell and says something to everybody that causes them to cheer. They all begin to gather towards the door and you follow suit, assuming that this means that their plan worked and you’re all free to go. But when he sees you making your way with the rest of them, he roughly pushes you back with a shake of his head.

“What are you doing?” you demand as you try to get around him, but he just continues to block your path. “Stop playing around, let’s leave.”

He says something to the other guy that you don’t understand and watch as they slowly begin to leave, their eyes never leaving you. “So he managed to negotiate with the warden like I said. But the only way we’re allowed to go free is if you stay and get executed in our place, Holy Leader.”

“‘Holy Leader’?” you repeat. “What the fuck are you talking about? We did not agree on this, you guys are the ones who came up with this whole thing, I just offered to help!” You run forward to stop them but before you could even try to pull them back inside, they slam the cell door shut right in front of your face.

The actual leader just smirks at you, the prison guards none the wiser as to what’s going on. “While I’d love to help, I’d love to see my family even more. Rest in peace.”

You shake the bars of the cell door as they walk away, yelling and cursing at them until they’ve turned the corner at the end of the hallway. Panic rises in your chest and everything you’ve ever learned is suddenly gone from your head. You have absolutely no idea what to do. Nobody knows that you’re there, you have no means of escape, and not a single person in this entire prison understands you when you speak.

I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of this.

The door opens and two prison guards make their way into the cell, grabbing you under your arms and dragging you out into the hallway. “Where are you taking me?” you shriek as you try to fight them off. You wriggle around in their grip but it’s no use, they’re too strong. “Where are you taking me? Please, you’ve got the wrong person! I didn’t know, please! Contact the Space Academy, ask for Captain Kim Namjoon, he’ll explain everything! Let me go!”

There are tears streaming down your face as you continue to struggle but you know that it’s no use. This is the end for you. You let your head hang as you finally give up, letting the guards drag your practically lifeless body through the halls towards wherever it is that they’re taking you. Sunlight comes in through the windows and when you look out, you see a stage out in a courtyard, a singular chair in the center of it. Even from here you can see the dried blood on it, and you struggle to keep yourself from throwing up.

Suddenly, you hear a familiar laugh and you don’t think you’ve been more relieved or happy to hear his laugh than in this moment. You look up and see Seokjin walking along with the prison warden, a wide smile on his face as he converses with her. “Jin!” you call out and immediately his eyes meet yours. “Seokjin! Help me! Tell them it’s all a big misunderstanding!”

His head tilts to the side a bit as he looks at you in confusion, and when he comes closer to you, you don’t see even the tiniest bit of recognition in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but how do you know my name?” he asks, and the feeling of horror that consumes you is overwhelming. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

The warden ushers Jin ahead, saying, “Don’t waste your time talking to the prisoners, Mr. Kim, especially this one. She is to be executed today for leading a revolution against the Cree.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say anything more, exhaustion taking over your entire body at the revelation that there is truly no way out. Because of course, out of all times for Seokjin to not know who you are, out of all times in the past month that you wished he didn’t know you ever since he left you, this is the one time you need him the most. The guards drag you through the courtyard and secure you to the chair, the stench of blood and other bodily fluids making you almost gag. The stands begin to fill and you watch in horror as right in front of you, the warden escorts Seokjin into her private booth. His eyes are unfamiliar as he looks down at you and any feeling that you have left leaves your body.

You close your eyes and await your fate, not sure how long you would have to wait for the show to start. You pray to all of the gods and deities across the cosmos that they watch over your family, that Captain Namjoon isn’t too mad at you for getting yourself executed, and that wherever Seokjin is—your Jin—he’s safe. The warden’s voice bellows out across the courtyard as she announces something that you don’t understand, the whoops and hollers of the audience that follows almost deafening. Heavy footsteps approach you but you keep your eyes shut; the panic that’s bubbling up will only get worse if you meet your death head on.

The courtyard goes silent and a single tear escapes as you hold your breath in anticipation, but a loud bang startles it right out of you. When you open your eyes, there’s smoke everywhere and absolute chaos as fires rage around you. There’s yelling and a stampede of footsteps as everyone scatters, completely ignoring you in your helpless state as you struggle to release yourself of the cuffs that hold you down. A hand reaches out and you try your best to move away from them, thinking that it must be the executioner still trying to do their job.

But even amongst the frenzied crowd with their yelling and the gunshots that you can hear all around you, there’s a voice that’s bright as day, one that you would recognize no matter what: “It’s just me, sweetheart. I’m here.”

You turn your head to find Jin frantically working at the cuffs around your wrist, too concentrated on freeing you that he doesn’t even notice you staring. This isn’t the Seokjin that you saw up in the stands. No, this is Jin, your Jin, the man you thought you would never see again, the man you would gladly let shatter your heart into pieces if it meant you got to spend one more day with him. He’s there, at your side, to rescue you.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you breathe out, too overwhelmed by everything that’s going on around you to speak up. “How are you-”

“I’m tired of leaving you behind,” he answers, not even looking at you as he finally frees your wrists and begins to work on the cuffs around your ankles. “The first time I met you, I watched you die right in front of me. And I had to live with that, knowing your fate every time I met you after.”

Jin pulls you up out of the chair and pulls you close to him, both of his hands taking yours as he looks into your eyes. “I couldn’t just let the girl that I fell in love with die. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I’m tired of running away. The only running I want to do is with you.”

At that, you feel yourself begin to float off the ground, and you let out a startled laugh when you see that the two of you are in fact rising up. Jin points above you with a grin and you look up to see his noraebang with a gravitation beam pointed at the two of you. Nobody notices as the two of you escape and above all of the fire and smoke, you see soldiers and prisoners alike fighting off the prison guards.

“Who are all of these people?” you ask, not recognizing the armor that they wear or the emblems that they display.

“I called in a few friends, cashed in some favors,” he shrugs and although his words sound nonchalant, the smile on his face is as bright as the sun itself. “Had to get the very best if I was going to save you.”

As you get closer and closer to the noraebang, you hear Jin’s voice from down below, and you see the Seokjin that was up on the stands with the warden fighting off the soldiers, shirt torn and blood streaked across his face as he escorts people to safety. And it’s only then that you realize the gravity of the situation.

“Wait,” you say while placing a hand on his chest. “Jin, you can’t do this. You just- You changed my timeline, you came back to the past to rescue me. That breaks like every single time rule that exists in every galaxy. Everyone will be after us. Time itself will be after us. We can’t run away from time.”

Jin’s eyes look determined as he looks at you, one hand grabbing hold of the door to his time machine to pull himself up. “We’re time travelers,” he laughs as he pulls you in with him. “Isn’t that what we do?”

vi. flying through outer space, galaxy and year unknown

“I’m starting to believe that you being at the top of your class was a lie,” Jin snickers as he looks through your journal. “Are you still not understanding it?”

“Well when you use words like ‘time-y wime-y’, it’s a bit hard,” you grind out, trying to recall what meeting with Seokjin in your past could have triggered your alternate timeline.

After escaping from Koya Prison, the first thing on your agenda before traversing the cosmos while simultaneously running from every single authority out there is to ensure that your alternate timeline happens. Jin had explained that your future version of himself (or the current version of himself as he clarified but which only made you even more frustrated as you tried to understand) had to have come back to your past in order to steer you in the right direction. You think back to every instance you’ve seen him and any moment that stood out to you.

Your eyes widen when you realize and you grab your journal and Jin’s to compare them, letting out a noise of disbelief when you see one entry in yours that you don’t see in his. The one event that no version of him has ever remembered no matter how much you try to get him to recall it.

“No wonder,” you mutter before rushing over and putting in the date and coordinates of the exact location.

“‘Planet Busan’?” he reads, eyebrows furrowed as he watches you set all of the controls. “What the hell is on Planet Busan?”

The noraebang shakes around a bit as you travel through the wormhole, and the two of you stumble a bit as it lands on solid ground. You tap one of the screens to check that it’s the correct location and chuckle to yourself when you see your past self making your way through the crowd that gathered around. You push Jin towards the door with your journal and are just about to open it when he stops you.

“What, no plan?” he asks, thoroughly confused as to what could be going on inside your head. “You’re just going to throw me outside without telling me what’s going on?”

“Just trust me,” you say as you shake your head. There’s still a skeptical look on his face but you feel his shoulders deflate a bit. “Just go out there and be your usual charming self.”

You push him out the door and watch as everyone gasps when he emerges, a fond smile appearing on your face when you watch him approach you with a “Stunned to see me, sweetheart?” You walk away while he converses with the past version of yourself, looking at all of the screens to make sure that you weren’t followed by anyone. Jin’s voice gets louder and you realize that he’s bringing you inside so you dart into the other room, careful to make sure that you’re not spotted by your past self. You follow along to ensure that it’s all happening the way that you remember, part of you a bit nostalgic at seeing your younger self. You miscalculate the timing at one point and dart behind yourself, practically throwing your body into another room so as not to be seen, causing you to bump into a shelf and drop one of Jin’s many souvenirs.

“Shit!” you hiss, hand slapping over your mouth after from how loud you were.

“Oh that’s just my Flerken, that darned thing! I don’t know where she learned those bad words from. Anyways, that’s the end of the tour!” You hear Jin laugh nervously as he escorts you back to the main control room and you let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding.

The alarm begins to sound and you rush back, entering the control room just as your past self exits. “A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Jin teases you as his hands fly over the controls. “We’ve got bigger problems though so I think that’s our cue to leave.”

He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his face, finger poised over a button as he asks, “So where to first?”

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