#I like these guys well enough but none of them make me scream and chew glass and sob hysterically like LoK characters or OCs do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wordsmithwhumpsandfluff · 8 months ago

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Word!! I'm sorry, I know I'm not caught up in the Ollie concussion fic, I promise I'm gonna get to that this weekend 🙈 your most recent post gave me a plot bunny tho... How about hurt Aiden with caretaker Spirit? As in he gets beaten up on duty and Spirit is FURIOUS but also having to be gentle bc his ribs are hurt and he's a little concussed?

Other ask:

Can we have more of Aiden? I loved him in the 3 fics there is about him and I am obsessed 😍😂 ~🌼

Combining the results of the Spirit&Aiden poll with this amazing ask. I couldn’t help myself🤭. Thanks for this awesome idea Soup, and thanks for the initial ask 🌼anon!

Also, adding a lil twist to the end of this one👀

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One thing that genuinely surprised Aiden was that Spirit always texted him back fairly quickly. He loved that. She never texted first, but he didn’t mind that fact.

“So, who is it?”

Aiden almost jumped as Mikey—the officer who was mentoring him—came up beside him. Aiden went three shades paler and fumbled to put his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t supposed to be on it while on security duty at the mall.

Mikey laughed at his panic. “Y’know, you’re lucky you got stuck with me, kid. If you’d been put with Bryan or Adamson, then you would’ve been chewed out for texting whoever it is that’s making you smile like a moron.”

Aiden flushed, looking straight ahead and focusing on being alert. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mikey shrugged. “It’s fine, kid.” Mikey was only in his early thirties, though he liked to try and convince people that he was still 27. He was funny and chill and good at his job, so Aiden really was glad that he got to work with this guy while on duty.

“Our rotation ends in ten minutes, kid. Thank God. Do me a favor and go get us a couple of coffees once we’re done here.”

Aiden smiled. “Yes, sir.”

It seemed like it would be another easy day. Aiden was glad and couldn’t wait for his shift to be over. He was planning to surprise Spirit at the music store where she worked in the mall so he could finally ask her out on a second date. He felt that he’d waited long enough.

Suddenly, there was shouting and a series of screams. Aiden’s head snapped towards the commotion, and Mikey took off running. Aiden followed.

At the mall’s technology store, there was a group of about six guys. About four had ski-masks, and the other two had regular face masks. All of them had bats and were breaking shelves, yelling at people, and grabbing phones and cameras and whatever else they could shove into a few large duffle bags.

Crud, Aiden thought, his hand going to his baton (he really wished he could have a taser already).

“Drop the stuff and put your hands in the air!” Mikey screamed, all chillness gone from his voice. He held up his taser, pointing it at the thieves.

Aiden clicked his walkie talkie. “This is Clark. Reece and I need backup at the Tech Shop. We’ve got six robbers here. I repeat, we need backup.”

Clearly, none of the guys were listening to Mikey. One of them even raised his bat and began to charge at him, but Mikey tased him.

Everything began to happen too fast. In a flash, suddenly a brawl had broken out, and Aiden was throwing punches as well before he realized it.

He grunted as he got struck multiple times in the ribs and gut. He could hear announcements on the mall’s speakers, notifying people of the robbery.

Adrenaline was pumping through Aiden as he fought back. A few guys managed to slip out though and ran for it. Aiden got one of them on the ground and was trying to get cuffs on him, but then received a swift kick to the head from one of the others. “C’mon, Zeke!�� one of them yelled.

The force knocked Aiden to the side and had the world going fuzzy, his ears ringing, and both of the thieves got away.

The last things Aiden Saw before the world went dark was Mikey securing cuffs on one of the guys before walking over to him.

— — —

The music store closed as soon as word of the fight spread to all the businesses. People were being asked to quickly pay and leave, and employees were getting asked to go as soon as all the costumers were gone.

Spirit—aside from her annoying boss—was the last music store employee to leave. The mall was almost entirely cleared out by then.

Apparently, from what she heard, there was a robbery at a store not far from the music store. She was too busy dealing with an annoying Karen to even notice the commotion.

As Spirit was leaving the building, she saw an open ambulance and saw someone being wheeled on a stretcher towards it. At first, Spirit only noticed his uniform and just thought that he was one of the security guards who got caught up in the whole thing. Then, suddenly, she noticed and recognized his face. Even without his glasses and all of the bloodied bruises.

Aiden.

Spirit’s eyes widened and her stomach dropped. Without realizing it, she was making her way over towards the paramedics. “Aiden,” she called, worried and a bit scared. Spirit hated that feeling.

One of a few officers stopped her before she could get closer. “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to stay back.”

Spirit frowned, brows creasing. “Is he okay? Did the robbers do that to him?”

The officer seemed annoyed. “Miss, this doesn’t concern you. Please just—”

Spirit scoffed and was about to retort something—probably something with a lot of angry curse words—when another cop came up to them.

“What’s going on over here?” the other cop asked. He also looked quite beaten up.

“I just want to know if Aiden’s okay,” Spirit said in a hard tone, heart racing.

The other cop raised a brow. “You know the kid?”

“Yes, he’s my—” Spirit froze for a second, her mind trying to come up with a word to describe what Aiden was to her. “—my friend.”

The other cop seemed to be much more understanding than the other. “Aiden’s in pretty rough shape. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital, if you’d like.”

The first cop seemed annoyed that this other guy had taken over the situation.

Spirit found herself nodding. “Yes, please.”

The officer led her to his police car. On the drive over, Spirit found out that this officer was named Mikey Reece, and he was Aiden’s mentor. Aiden had mentioned this guy to her once or twice in their texting conversations.

At the hospital, Spirit and Mikey had to wait for news on Aiden while tests were run. A few other officers came to ask Mikey some questions, and Spirit bounced her leg anxiously as she waited.

This whole situation gave her an uneasy feeling. She overheard a few things that Mikey was saying to the officers: six of them. . . bats. . . black face masks. None of that made Spirit super suspicious until she heard him ask what the name of the one he arrested was, and one of the other officers answered, “Jeremy Hernandez.” That name had Spirit wondering something.

Eventually, a doctor came out and explained that Aiden was slightly concussed and had a few fractured ribs. But aside from that, a small fever and a bit of bruises, he was fine. Awake and responsive.

The officers went into the room first to talk to Aiden and write a report. Then, after that, Mikey wanted to go in but had a higher ranked officer telling him to get himself checked out for injuries. So, Spirit went in to see Aiden alone.

Aiden was sitting up in his bed, bandaged and with some of the blood cleaned up. When he saw Spirit enter the room, he looked genuinely shocked. “What’re you doing here?”

She shrugged, looking serious. Stone cold, even. For some reason, thinking that someone had put Aiden in a hospital had her blood boiling. “Long story,” she said.

Aiden’s surprised look melted a bit and he smiled. “I think I should join your boxing classes. I’m not that great at fighting just yet.”

His comment was laced with a bit of humor, but Spirit remained grim. “Do you know who it was? The robbers?”

Aiden’s smile faltered a bit. “Not really. One of the guys was named. . . Zeke, I think? I don’t know. He could be anyone. They all had masks on, so no facial details.”

Spirit felt her whole body run cold even as she still felt hot with anger. “This guy named Zeke. . . did he have dyed hair? Kinda longish?”

Aiden’s brows creased. “What? Why do you—”

“Just answer the question.”

Aiden worked his jaw, seeming a bit confused and unsure as he nodded. “Yeah dark purple hair. But why—?”

“I’ll be back later,” Spirit stated, her voice low as she turned to walk out the door. She froze before she got to it, turning and going over to Aiden. Before he even comprehended what was happening, she hugged him, being gentle and not putting any weight on him since his ribs were fractured.

Aiden felt his whole body become warm and he melted in the hug a bit, getting butterflies in his stomach. She'd never hugged him before. He decided right then that he really liked her hugs.

Spirit pulled away and looked him in the eye. “I’ll be back later. Or, I might just text later. It depends on how pretty my face will still be in the next few hours.”

Aiden raised a brow, once again seeming confused. Spirit left before he could ask her what she meant.

— — —

Spirit hated her old neighborhood.

The air there reeked of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. There was always someone yelling in their house or at a neighbor, cats knocked over trash cans, and some of the worst people Spirit had ever met lived there.

Spirit went up to a house that she often avoided while growing up. The old man that used to live in it had died when Spirit was a Senior in high school, but the guy’s nephew—and Spirit’s old classmate—still lived there.

Zeke Danes opened the door, a lit cigar in his mouth and looking drunk. He had a black eye and a few other bruises that looked fresh.

Spirit scowled, and Zeke’s eyes widened and he grinned as he recognized her.

“Holy shit. Spirit Mitchel, as I live and breathe.” He took out his cigar, blowing smoke on her face. “To what do I owe this pleasure, hot-stuff.”

Spirit could hear other voices inside, laughing and talking. “Having a party?” Spirit asked, her hands forming into fists in her pockets.

Zeke shrugged, still smiling. “Kinda.” He ran a hand through his long purple hair.

“Let me guess,” Spirit said. “Henry, Javon, Mike, and Freddie?”

“Yeah,” Zeke nodded. “Just my buddies.”

“But Jeremy isn’t here.” The way she said it had Zeke’s smirk falling.

“What do you want, Spirit?” he asked, opening the door all the way so Spirit could see her other old classmates and neighbors scattered inside Zeke’s filthy living room. They had music playing that was suddenly turned down, and all of the guys in there were looking at Spirit curiously and suspiciously.

Spirit stood a bit straighter. She was just as tall as Zeke was, so she could look him directly in the eye. “You robbed a store at the mall today, didn’t you?”

They all snickered a bit.

“So what?” Freddie called from inside, and Spirit noticed that he had gotten more tattoos since she last saw him. “You gonna snitch?”

Spirit wasn’t going to snitch. After all, the saying was very much true: Snitches really didget stitches.

“You beat up a cop,” Spirit said. “The one our age. You got him pretty good.”

Zeke took another puff of his cigarette. “Get to the point, hot-stuff.”

“He’s my friend,” Spirit stated. “You hurt my friend, and now he’s in the hospital.”

All of the guys were silent for a second before laughing.

“Since when do you become friends with police, woman,” Javon laughed. “People like us don’ go around becoming buddy-buddy with cops.”

“Well, I’m not like you,” Spirit spat.

“Oh, but you are,” Zeke said, leaning closer and blowing more smoke on her face. “You’re just like us. You used to fight for extra money behind the school, remember? And we’ve all run from cops together before, baby. Ringing a bell?”

Spirit bared her teeth as her scowl deepened. “Keep your pants on, Zeke. And don’t you dare call me ‘baby’. And I stopped running around with you morons after tenth grade, so quit grouping me in with you guys.”

Zeke chuckled a bit, leaning back against the door frame. “So, did you just come here to pitch a little hissy-fit over us hurting your friend? A little pathetic, don’t you think?”

Spirit nodded. “If I was here just to pitch a fit, that would be pathetic.” Swiftly, she raised her leg and kneed Zeke in his groin, making him gasp and stumble back, doubling over and protectively cupping his throbbing manhood. “It’s a good thing I’m not pathetic.”

Zeke spat his cigarette out of his mouth, glaring at Spirit with tears in the corner of his eyes. “You bitch.”

The other four guys all got up, now looking annoyed.

Spirit cracked her neck and raised her fists.

Looked like she was just going to text Aiden tonight.

#Aiden officially has a guardian angel #Totally making a part 2 #spirit #aiden #Mikey just popped into my head and has found an apartment in the depths of my brain that he now lives in rent-free🥲#Mikey is going to LOVEEE watching Aiden's love-life #Also I'd just like to say that Zeke is a certified asshole #thebrilliantidiots #BTW - Spirit is totally winning that fight

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jacobsnicket · 3 months ago

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fictober prompt 6: “i’m not giving up” | gravity falls | T

read on ao3

As he works, Ford can hear the tap-tap-tap of the other Fiddleford’s foot as his leg bounces. The noise is simultaneously comforting and maddening.

“Erm, Stanford…” he starts, chewing on his bottom lip.

It was maddening, he decides. Definitely maddening.

Ford sighs. “What is it?”

”It’s just… are ya sure you should go?”

“Fiddleford, don’t be—“

But he’s already on a roll, and there’s nothing Ford can say to make him stop. “So many other yous come through here, an’ they all want the same thing, right? They all wanna kill that demon. An’ I try to help, of course I do, how could I not, but… none of them ever come back here. I don’t know if any of them are still out there or if…”

Ford doesn’t have to guess what he’s implying there.

“An’ as far as I know,” he keeps going, “that one-eyed demon’s still out there. I’m sick of it, Stanford, I really am. I know it’s all you but it really does feel like I’m sendin’ y’all off to die. Just…”

The other Fiddleford takes his hand, almost subconsciously tracing his fingers across the knuckles. Ford flinches at the contact.

“So many people’ve tried to do it, an’ I believe in ya, but I’ve believed in ya before, and that didn’t matter then. I just want ya to stay safe.”

“I’m not giving up,” Ford hisses, wrenching his hand from his grip. “I’m so close, I’m going to do it. I have to do it. I’m not stopping now.”

He remembers scrawling in his journal the last time he saw his Fiddleford, that weak-willed hayseed, too cowardly to do what has to be done. He banishes the memory as soon as it appears. This is different. That was selfish. This is saving the world. Those were his mistakes. This is him fixing them.

He doesn’t know how he expected Fiddleford to respond, but it isn’t with laughter. He sounds resigned, a touch bitter. “You’re all the same, ya know? So damn stubborn.”

The plan feels like genius as soon as Stan thinks of it. McGucket was smart enough to build that death ray he’d chased off last week. He probably wouldn’t even remember working on the portal the next day. And even if he did, who’d believe Old Man McGucket when he said Stan Pines was keeping a door to another dimension under his house?

So that’s what leads to him pushing McGucket through the door at the crack of dawn. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to check if anyone sees him on the way down to the basement. Perks of living alone.

McGucket keeps twisting at his beard and tapping his feet as they go down to the third floor. Stan wants to pick him up and shake him, just to shut him up.

“So where’s this… machine ya needed help with?”

“It’s just here,” Stan says, leading him into the portal room. “It’s pretty big, you’ll know it when you see it.”

Then McGucket sees the portal and screams, high and grating and terrified, and he bolts straight for the door.

Stan does pick him up at that, though he doesn’t shake him. The hillbilly’s doing too much shaking already.

“Hey, what’s with you? You said you were gonna help!”

“That thing stinks of danger worse than a pig in July. I’m not touchin’ it!” Then he starts mumbling gibberish. Great.

Maybe McGucket was a lost cause. He couldn’t even bribe the guy! When he’d tried, the hillbilly had just stuffed the bills in his mouth and thanked him for the snack.

“Well, I’m fixing it with or without ya, so either ya help me or ya leave.”

“There are some things ya shouldn’t mess with, Stanford, an’ I’m pretty sure that’s one of them.”

“I’m not giving up!” The words are harsher than he wants them to be. The sound echoes through the room. “Guess I’m doing it without you then.”

He drops McGucket back at the porch. He’ll leave him to find his own way home. It was nice for a bit, to think that he’d have someone to help him, but he should’ve known.

These were his mistakes. No one was gonna fix them but him.

#gravity falls #kiran writes #fictober24

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bittersweetyrn · 1 year ago

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fun reactions my mom had to good omens 2

we watched the first season together back in november when i wrote a big communications paper on it, so i had to remind her of stuff. I tried to make these as close to verbatim as possible bc she is very silly and forgetful too <3

spoilers ahoy under the cut!

"That's entirely my fault for not collecting the rent!" mom: gonna tell our landlord about this

Gabriel is naked in the streets mom: is he naked?

mom: literally gets jump scared by Crowley's scream of Gabriel

"I thought I'd put the books in alphabetical order...what's author?" mom: oh no "I was shelving the books by the first letter of the first sentence." mom: OH NO

mom: why do these crows sound all fucked up? mom: ohhhh....haha

"Was Eve a baby?" "No, they can arrive at any size." mom: *literally losing her mind laughing*

"You have my word as an angel." mom: *gasp* and he wasn't struck down???? oooooooh.... mom: wait were job's children really killed in the Bible???

"You said it wasn't lonely." "I'm a demon..." mom: ....I lied. *looks at me like this* 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

"I always say the best part of a cupperty is looking at it." mom: awww, a nice angel!! they're cute

Aziraphale's custom job of the Bentley mom: cute, it changes depending on who's driving it :3

Sean Biggerstaff: appears mom, nearly yelling: who is that!!!! who is he!!! I know him!!! what's he on!!!!

discussion of selling bodies for anatomy lessons mom: oh yeah this was an episode of Sawbones

Crowley makes a big hole mom: oh my god he just sent them to hell?????

Elspeth pours a glass of laudanum mom: she's gonna kill Aziraphale

crowley loopy off poison mom: he reminds me of Jim Carrey

"I mostly use it for Twitter. And Grindr." mom: what's Grindr? me: I literally can't do this right now

"You know I can't cross the threshold." mom: what is happening, vampires now??

mom: (about Furfur) that's the Neo of Sporin guy

nazi-zombie burps out the drunk guy's song mom: just like iZombie...

"Oh, well! Sometimes you meet a stubborn turnip." mom: he is so embarrassing

the entire bullet catch scene mom: I'm chewing all my cuticles off im so nervous

Furfur gives Crowley the evidence packet mom: ooh I bet the picture isn't even gonna show up, that'll save them. somehow.....oh. never mind.

Nina walks into the bookshop for the ball mom: what has he done to everyone??? wow, aziraphale doesn't know anything, huh mom: also Jim looks like he's wearing the suit from Dumb and Dumber

mom: *cracks up at every instance of the Jim/James/Gabriel goof*

"You are unloved and unlovable." mom: jesus that's pretty harsh

"You wanna come in here and say that to my face?" mom: HONEY NO

Heaven's security footage of Gabriel as he leaves mom: okay, hohoho, now all the pieces are coming together.

fly climbs into Jim's eye mom: aueghhgheohh??

"No need to ever meet again, is there?" "None whatsoever." mom: pfft, they're in love

"No one's ever given me anything before." mom: now I'm sad :(

Metatron buying coffee mom: who's that? is he important? me: you saw him like 15 minutes ago. earlier in the episode mom: really? when?

metatron scowls at crowley mom: whoa why'd he scuzz him so hard?

The Argument mom: MY CUTICLES!! *keeps looking over at me nervously*

"I forgive you." mom: oh no he didn't

mom: is there gonna be another season?

me: if people watch it enough, but it's also up to amazon

mom: we should write a letter to amazon

#good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens #“the angels not recognizing the metatron is a plothole”#me: actually my mom didn't recognize him in the literal same episode he appeared in soooo #writing a letter to amazon is such a gen-x thing lol #this was very fun watching with her #of course I will keep rewatching it/having it play in the background at all hours of the day #but my mom doesn't have to know how mentally ill I am #text #long post

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gordonfreemansphysicsdegree · 2 years ago

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heeheehoo ... headcanon masterpost[?]

i wish i knew how to do that 'keep on reading' thing . if i did then it would be here

also ask me about my other headcanons i can elaborate better when im asked things

[misc headcanons] the science team clicked so well because of them all having been experimented on by black mesa, because of this they became extremely close extremely fast none of them are neurotypical im sorry Heights (ascending order): coomer, benery, darnold, tommy, frozen, bubby, gordon Coomer and bubby are married dude fucking trust me

[gordon headcanons]

6’5’’, chubby-muscular he/they pronouns, transgender man bisexual Chews nails. Very bad habit but he cant help it Hes autistic dude trust me im right struggles with expressing his emotions VERY mixed feelings on benery, thinks hes.. Fine?? Theyre also roomates after black mesa (he has a crush but hes not over everything shh shhhhhhhh) Loves the rest of the science team + other 2 though :D Tommys his favourite dont tell anyone shhhhh Sees coomer as a parental figure Love language is physical touch, though they freaks out if its unexpected [i saw this headcanon from @artflameball and i thought it was wonderful] hes like a horse. easily startled

[benery headcanons]

6’ 7’’, muscular (on the basis that hes a guard) [[7 ft on occasions.]] he/it . what the fuck Unlabelled Weird alien guy from xen, got experimented on SEVERE LACK OF SOCIAL SKILLS. Screams at cats . people think cats can understand him Can sing the entirety of the gummy bear album Snorts milk It cant count past 7 , not because hes not smart enough, it just doesnt want to Madly in love with gordon . wants to kiss him on the mouth a little bit . also his roomate Best friends with bubby and tommy Gaming buddies with darnold Once punched frozen really hard in the face simply because he thought it was funny. Adoptive siblings

[tommy headcanons]

6’ 0’’ he/she, doesn’t mind any pronouns, unlabelled gender Pansexual :) Once ate a can because benery dared him to Grew up at black mesa, so it gave him a lot of time to read everything Made friends with benery while he was in capture Full of autism, her special interest is soda and everything to do with it He can play the violin!! Coomer taught him Basically coomers and bubbys adopted nephew/neice But also still gmans kid. Benerys best friend Often infodumps to darnold about soda, darnold loves it Has regular beyblade battles with forzen

[coomer headcanons]

5’ 8’’ he/him , transmasc bisexual, slight male lean Literally a fucking cyborg. His arms and legs are made out of metal Wires get snagged on things a lot of the time Probably listens to like queen Has set ‘voice lines’ for himself Can play the violin!!! Taught tommy to do so Lifts weights , has absolutely suplexed benrey before Married to bubby shut the fuck up . bubby helps him cope with his exstestencial dread Often took bubby out to see the stars while he was still being experimented on Basically tommys mom , makes him dinosaur sandwiches :) Hes just like me

[bubby headcanons]

6’ 4’’ he/it/star . agender Fuck if he knows what his sexuality is hes busy The ultimate lifeform. Only got released from its tube recently Has to fix coomers arms and legs on a regular basis because stars the only one who knows robotics Loves fire. Pyrokenesis. he has a lighter with him at all times, it doesnt work Really really likes spinning tops. Thinks theyre really entertaining Coomer taking him out to see the stars shaped how he views the sky and how much it loves space Beats up people if theyre mean to tommy ever Eats inedible objects simply because he wants to

darnold and forzen will come. eventually. i dont have many headcanons for them as of rn

#hlvrai #gordon freeman #gordon feetman #benrey #dr coomer #bubby #headcanons

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phlistopher · 6 months ago

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LIR-Arg!

I wrote a humor column in college for the Hofstra Chronicle under the pseudonym Silence Doless, a nod to Benjamin Franklin I didn't come up with.

I was very proud of this work at the time. It's all very Hofstra specific, and the mid 2000s. Against my better judgement, I've decided to republish the series here.

This is the second column, and I have noted that it was originally published September 17th, 2007, but that was when the first column was published, so who knows. Commentary at the end.

Over the long weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Sarah Lawrence College, an all around better school than Hofstra. Why, you may foolishly ask? Because they offer a seminar called “Lube It Up”, that’s why. Who doesn’t want to be a part of that? The only thing at Hofstra that comes close to being that slick is your local Dude-Guy’s hair, which is decidedly less appealing, especially in the current context.

However, this week’s column is not about Sarah Lawrence. Sure they have a beautiful campus, progressive classes, and a six-dollar buffet with everything from waffles you make yourself to real eggs, but what I really want to talk about is how I got there. Yes folks, I’m talking about the Long Island Railroad.

Everyone who goes to Hofstra has been on it, and if you haven’t there is a good chance you don’t go to New York City often, in which case you should stop being such a huge townie. But I digress. I don’t care what you do; your experience on the LIRR is always going to involve adventure. And by adventure I mean black holes of logic. Here’s how a typical LIRR riding day goes.

You’re all set to go, but for some reason you don’t have a ride (i.e. your car is in the shop, your roommate is away, and the cab is fifty dollars), so you take the blue beetle. After the pain in your ass subsides from being bounced two and a half feet in the air after every bump for twenty minutes, you quickly realize that you have to pee for much the same reason. So you waddle to the bathroom only to find that it’s closed after 1pm. Also, the train you were trying to catch departed five minutes ago, meaning you’ll have to wait almost an hour for the next one. For some reason, Hofstra decided it was in the best interest of their students to time the buses so that you always miss the train. So, squeezing your thighs and feeling like the victim of some elaborate Rabinowitzian conspiracy, you sit down to wait.

What happens in the time between when you sit down and when you get on the train largely depends on whether you’re in Minneola or Hempstead station. In these modern days, Hofstra is nice enough to send the blue beetle to Minneola. Nobody knows when, but if you’re lucky enough to stumble upon that magical time frame, you will doubtless spend your waiting period admiring the day, the people, and the surprising lack of chewing gum on the floor. If, however, you end up at Hempstead, not only will you wonder at the surprising amount of chewing gum on the floor, you will also see something weird. My first time at Hempstead station, I watched a full-grown man floss his teeth with his ticket for well over five minutes.

Finally you get on the train, and by this time you really have to pee. You sniff yourself after you sit at the window of a three-seater and no one sits next to you, then proceed to fall asleep. Later, you are invariably woken up by the automated stop announcer screaming, “Holis!” The auto announcer hates Holis, and every time he has to say it the fact just makes him angry. You can hear it in his voice. Holis must have done something awful to the auto announcer. I’d do an investigative report, but it’s probably some dirty Long Island Railroad secret and I’d end up getting whacked by the mob…come on pseudonym, protect me!

So anyway, you finally get off the train and rush to the public restroom in Penn Station. The stench is so overwhelming that it seems that of the thousands of people who use it daily, none of them hit the toilet, and so ends your odyssey. That is, until you have to come back.

Yet the Long Island Railroad needs our love, just like anything else. We need to care for it, nourish it, and push it on its way. Just a little something extra to make those wheels turn, to loosen those pumps, and to maybe make the auto announcer say a nice word or two about Holis. When you come right down to it, all the LIRR needs is a little lube.

Woof, I really loved run on sentences. Sounds like I was really stretching to find something to be pissed about. I had plenty of things, but I wasn’t touching the real stuff. “Rabinowitzian” is a reference to then Hofstra president Stuart Rabinowitz. The execution needs work, but I still like the concept of the “Holis” joke. The dude really does yell that stop and no others.

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two-red-lungs · 3 years ago

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Ayooo. It sounds kinda cringe but eddie munson x vampire reader???? Or something like that. Or just x GN reader. That would be rlly swag of you :D

NO BC THIS IS PERFECT I was like "man I really wanna write a little about the Lost Boys/Stranger Things fic I'm working on, but IDK if the asker knows the Lost Boys" but you DO so sorry I am taking creative liberties w/ this imagine.

"Big Storm Coming" (Eddie Munson + LostBoys!Reader)

Your brothers were rabble-rousers. Nare-do-wells. It made settling anywhere... difficult, when the police kept getting on their tails. They set fires, caused public chaos, spray-painted walls. Hell, you spray-painted walls when you were bored enough. Eternal life was excruciatingly boring.

Like clockwork Max would chew them out, probably throwing one of them across the room in anger, and then move all of you to a new town.

Probably for the best. David brought death with him everywhere, he was messy and angry like that, and Dwayne, Marko, and Paul followed his example. Usually leaving you and Star to clean up the disaster.

So, really, moving to Hawkins felt like any other clan migration. Low population, sleepy police force, lots of bored teens "prone to going missing", as David had put it with a tight, toothy smile.

Marko had cackled when Max said he was enrolling everyone in highschool to "keep you outta trouble". He thought it was a joke.

It was not a joke. When you tried to protest Max told you to shut it or he'd lock you out on the porch come sunrise.

You all went straight from Max's van doors to the school entryway. A half-second in the sun, shielded under jacket lapels and long hair.

It was, admittedly, pretty fun, blowing open those doors on your first day. As much as you had a love-hate relationship with your blood brothers, you had to admit they turned heads. You all did. Wild rocker hair, manic self-assured grins, spike-studded boots. Rock-and-roll, baby. The sea of hallway students parted for the five of you.

Paul and Dwayne, as usual, were flirting with any girl that came within five feet of them, taking bets on who'd get a number by the end of the day. But with Star home with Laddie and David glowering at everyone like he wanted to massacre everything and then hang himself, you were pretty much on your own.

Great. School, again. A year of faking interest in American history and just waiting for a drained corpse to be found in the woods.

And then. AND THEN. Hawkins High, shithole in the middle of Indiana, gave you the gift you'd be desperately hoping for.

"Principal's office, NOW, Munson!" A teacher screamed nearby, flinging open a classroom door and shoving out a tall, wild-maned, leather-jacket clad man. The man flipped a double bird to the closed door, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned around to start trudging down the hall.

Freezing in place when he saw you. Two individuals, nearly identical in style. Outcasts. Lost, maybe.

An incredulous grin spread across his face, dark eyebrows disappearing up into messy fringe. "...Holy shit." He said with a disbelieving laugh. "Look at you. Rock on, man."

He introduced himself as Eddie Munson, blood thumping under his ivory-pale skin and smelling like American Spirit cigarettes, and all at once you were hooked. He was clearly excited to see someone else with a patch jacket sporting bands he knew. He asked you if you wanted to smoke sometime. You blindly agreed, distracted by that warm smile.

And as he walked away down the wide hall, saying "Boo!" to a passing group of freshmen girls and making them literally jump, two things were made utterly apparent to you.

One: Eddie Munson was going to save your high school experience from being the most boring thing ever.

Two: he needed to be protected from your brothers at all costs. None of you were allowed to be happy. To make friends. They destroyed those sort of things out of envy, of jealousy. And you would not let Eddie be a tally mark in David's kill ledger.

Thank you for the prompt: if you guys like this concept, please let me know! I'm considering a longer, multi-chapter crossover fic with Eddie/reader and the Hawkins gang VS Max's boys.

#eddie munson x reader #the lost boys #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #my writing

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sultryvodka · 4 years ago

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So I was wondering if I could request William from Moriarty. You can choose if you want it to be headcanons or a scenario. I don't mind either. 🥰🥰 But, basically Reader and William are in a relationship. However she has never seen William mad or express a lot of emotions. (Nevertheless he's always been a kind significant other.) So she decides that today she was going to tease him and try to get a rise out of him. Thus she does. Which William at these teases just sort of smirks. (Although there's a dark glint behind his eyes). At the end of the day when Reader and William are about to go to bed, as soon as the door closes.. Reader is in for some "Punishment".

So needless to say it's a but NSFWish. Feel free to decide on any k*nks and things related too! Of course if it makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it. 🥰

aHhh finally a spoicy request, i'm surprised the first one i received is for none other than william moriarty. man i just LOVE this show so much. alright enough chit-chat, let's get on with this, shall we?

dom! william james moriarty x bratty/sub! fem reader

warnings: smut, fingering, profanity, oral sex, degradation, consensual sex, & orgasm control

[ established relationship ]

- you and william have been an item for a good 6 months now, you've known each other since both him and louis were still part of the orphanage. you happen to be the silent type, much like his younger brother.

- as a toddler, you've silently observed william and louis from a distance, finding yourself quite interested in whatever they talked about.

- william had always been quite the cunning man and it still holds to this day, 24 years of age without a wrinkle insight. during the times you spent with him as a curious 6 year old, his facade doesn't shift unless his brother is involved.

- over the period that william was out of reach, you happen to go about your own simple life and managed to become a teacher at the local kindergarten. your free period spent around the walls of the orphanage.

- one faithful day, the moriarty brothers paid a surprise visit, offering to shoulder the school fees and monthly allowance. you were beyond grateful and william found himself coming every weekend just to see you.

- he wouldn't miss coming by until he eventually offered you to stay inside their manor. he figured it would save you from the trouble of ticket fees from the village your place used to be. little by little he told you about his plans, afraid you might run away from him.

- but you knew him well enough and nothing would push you away from him.

- william took his time with you, taking you out on proper dates and you enjoyed it. he was nothing but kind, sweet, and respectful towards you. that was until this evening.

- it was all because of your sneaky scheme of trying to get a rise out of him. william had to teach at the university today, you told him that you'll behave yourself and simply pretend like you're one of his students.

- you didn't stay true to your words though. teasing him slightly as you shift in your seat, rubbing your thighs and chewing on your bottom lip. you both held eye contact very well but william kept his attention on everything and everyone else but you.

- to your disappointment, your lover didn't pay you the attention you craved for. not until you finished supper and headed to your respective quarters.

!! nsfw, 18+ !!

" you look disappointed, my darling. have i done something wrong? " william whispers softly as he held you from behind, one arm around your waist as the other caresses your neck. you can feel him smirk as he trails open-mouthed kisses unto the exposed skin of your back. hearing your sweet little whimpers made him sigh as your clothed ass rubs against his hardened cock. a deep chuckle follows as he guides your body to face him, hands tangled with the laces that held your dress perfectly tight against the curves of your body.

you look up at him through your lust-blown eyes and heavy eyelids, pleading him to touch every part of your body for the relief you've been aching for. he presses a kiss on your cheek, whispering reassurances as he rids you of your clothes. once your dress falls off to the ground, his hands found your body. warm hands in contrast to that of the cold sea breeze from the small gaps on the windows. your hands found his cheeks as he slipped his tongue between your lips, sucking and tasting every bit of your mouth. yes it was sloppy but every movement of his ignited the warmth inside your chest and your dripping cunt.

" Liam, please. " you begged through your pants, pulling his hand to slip inside your soaked panties. a moan escapes his and your lips as two of his fingers easily slipped inside your pulsating lips. you've never seen william with a creased forehead and ragged breathing. he looked so hot with sweat dripping down his forehead. his eyes finally met yours, but the glint of his eyes were feral and angry. " Look at you begging like a pathetic little bitch. I would have never imagined that a sweet girl like you could beg this desperately. Huh? What was that --- fuck! Look at you choke on your own words. Be a good girl and keep those moans to yourself. " you bit down on your lip as william began slamming his fingers into your wet pussy. those words coming from his mouth sent you close to your orgasm. but you want to be his good girls so you held both your moans and your climax.

he watches as you squirm and held unto his arm as he curls his fingers, hitting just the right spot to push you over the edge. his red eyes peering over your pathetic irises as he mercilessly pull his fingers all the way out. the grin on his face made you tremble with arousal. " Go on doll, tell me what you want me to do. "

" Please sir, make me cum on your fingers. "

william smirks at your words, satisfied with the response you gave him, he bent down and licked at your throbbing clit before pushing his fingers back in. " Go on princess, beg for me. " you screamed for his mercy, wanting to reach your climax like the greedy woman you are. his fingers curled, reaching the sensitive flesh as he peppered small kisses unto your glistening cunt. only pulling away as your juices coated his hand. he chuckles, soothing your quivering thighs as he pushed his digits into your mouth. " Clean them up for me, my love. I'm not done with you just yet. "

well that was quite... 👀🤌 something. anyway it's my first timing posting, let alone finish a proper smut scene. let me know if i missed any warnings and i sincerely apologize for any mistakes grammar & spelling wise. i want to post at least more than twice a week so i'll work on my other requests in the morning. i hope you guys liked it! feel free to send in your requests and comment down any suggestions and creative criticism. i would love to work on my writing for both you guys & myself. ♡ have good day/night!

#moriarty the patriot headcanons #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #william moriarty smut #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty smut #🌸☁️works

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 4 years ago

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Hi! What is your very specific Twilight AU?

okay, so. New Moon.

party disaster, dumping her and dipping, all happens normally.

but THEN. Bella finds out she’s pregnant.

(and I know you’re thinking- pre-marital sex?!?! Edward would NEVER! but listen. I am the author now. I’ve been around Christians my whole life. shut up!)

so anyway after a million pregnancy tests and a lot of googling about vampire baby legends, Bella’s like...well this is probably gonna be a situation,

Nessie doesn’t have an insane growth rate here because I hate that, so she has a normal amount of time to prepare, and she’s very...aware that the birth is gonna be Rough at best. So she goes to Jacob

who is NOT a wolf yet but Is aware of the pack and the treaty, and they are closer friends already, and she’s like ‘hey. paranormal emergency. you’re the only person in this town who enables me. help.’

and Jacob’s like I’m Fucking Fifteen and goes and gets Leah, since she’s technically an adult and a girl

(ms. meyer How did you make one of leah’s only 3 character traits ‘upset she’s infertile’ and then not have her support bella’s choices in breaking dawn please make it make sense)

so they start brainstorming solutions and the best they can work with is. Bella’s gotta ride out the pregnancy in hiding. they have no way of knowing whether she can survive the pregnancy and the only clue they have about whether the baby will be a monster or not is from google searches, but they also can’t exactly take her to an obgyn when her uterus feels like it’s calcified and her ribs are getting broken and she seems to be craving blood

So, Leah’s got her own little place. Bella moves in there, telling Charlie she wants to move back in with Renee (she knows her parents would never willingly call each other so as long as she keeps up communicating with both of them they should be none the wiser of her growing a little dracula in Leah Clearwater’s basement).

Leah has already defected from the wolf pack at this point (because...the Cullen’s left and she didn’t really like any of the guys anyway lmao) so they don’t run the risk of them hearing her thoughts while she’s in wolf form. She goes out and hunts animals, brings them back and her and Jake drain the blood from them so Bella can drink it. All three of them find this extremely disgusting obviously but Jake’s loyal and a little bit lovestruck, Leah’s a supportive friend and queen, and Bella’s just trying to keep her and her baby alive, and none of them feel like trying to rob a blood bank

Bella is 100% certain the baby will just be a baby who happens to like blood, like she was in bd, but the tentative plan is that if a crazy soulless monster comes out of her Leah will...handle that...

Which neither are thrilled about, so Bella’s just trying to focus on staying positive. And between that, trying to survive and stay hidden, Bella doesn’t really have time to...Check Out the way she did in new moon. Like, she’s absolutely still depressed, and she’s still getting an occasional Edward hallucination because carrying a vampire baby counts as reckless in many books, but she’s just more...resigned and pissed than anything. She’ll have days like the ‘possibilities’ scene, but more often than not she’s just telling the Edward hallucination to go fuck himself when he’s begging her to find the real him so they can have Carlisle deal with the pregnancy

at some point, Seth gets roped into the whole mess (he’s prone to just breaking into his sister’s house) but since he’s like, 13 and The Best Baby Boy he’s immediately supportive. He didn’t even fucking know about the wolves and the vampires until he walked in on a six months pregnant Bella drinking blood while his sister and Jacob are hacking away at a dead deer, but he’s like...you know when you were 13 and sneaking around about Anything made you feel like the coolest person alive? point is he’s helpful

AND he can get away with spending a lot of time at Leah’s house without anyone finding it weird, unlike Jacob, so he starts spending most of his free time there keeping Bella company and brightening her day up

HE is the one who enables her when she comes up with the name Renesmee lmao

(just because she hates Edward doesn’t mean Esme ever did anything wrong!)

“bella I’ll throw you out of this house if you don’t come up with a real name” “leah she’s white you can’t just disrespect her culture like this omg”

anyway these four become the DORKIEST and WEIRDEST little family it’s cute

so then. labor.

it’s less...graphic than in bd because Bella hasn’t been actively dying the whole pregnancy and she doesn’t snap her spine in half, but it’s still. bad.

she essentially delivers a rock that Nessie then begins chewing her way out of. she’s actively bleeding out. Jacob’s having a panic attack. Leah made Seth watch so he would never have unprotected sex and the scare tactic is working. Leah’s covered in Bella’s blood which is not great considering she’s Holding A Rock That A Vampire Is Emerging From

Leah’s been taking classes and researching deliveries so she needs to stitch Bella up and see what else is wrong but Seth is rocking back and forth on the floor crying and Jacob’s screaming and pacing too fast to grab so she’s like. Bella babe I know you’re dying but you need to hold this thing for me ksjdfllksf

so while she’s handling That, Bella’s got this weird little rock in her arms and is watching the baby slowly fight it’s way out like this is a very fucked up egg or something and she’s just. overwhelmed. maybe it’s the blood loss but she’s looking at the messy, scrunchy little face and she’s already in love and envisioning their lives together.

and then, you know, the baby bites her,

she has just enough time to think ‘how did we not think to prepare for that’ before she can feel the venom coursing through her. it’s just as bad as she remembers from James’ bite but somehow...easier to tolerate. she blacks out pretty quickly

the other 3 notice and are like : 👁👄👁

Jacob...literally explodes into a wolf On Spot

Seth darts out the fucking door he’s seen enough for one day

Leah, sole holder of the braincell, realizes Nessie just bit and isn’t drinking from Bella, and deduces this is like...a survival instinct or something. the baby instinctively changes it’s mother first thing. weirdly...touching?

So she gets the baby and checks that everything is physically okay with Bella (apart from you know. changing species) and is like...guess this is an issue for 3 days from now Leah

more immediate pressing issues: screaming new born baby and oh, yeah, the giant red wolf in the basement,

“Jacob I know this is disorienting but if you break anything in my house I’ll fucking kill you”

she really just leaves the poor boy to go get the baby cleaned up and warm up some of the frozen blood they’ve got in her fridge (RUINING HER TUPPERWARE, BELLA)

she’s not worried about the wolf pack mind meld yet because she knows Sam took the guys on a mission way farther up the coast for a few days and they’ll be too far away to hear Jake. hopefully, by the time they get back, Bella will be awake and they’ll have made an escape plan by then

and as she’s bottle feeding blood to the baby she’s thrilled that it seems to be like...relatively normal and not s horrific monster or anything. mission: unwillingly murder my best friend’s baby has been successfully canceled

“Oh Goddamn it....Renesmee DOES fit you...”

Seth, from where he’s cowering behind the couch: “told you”

so, Jake eventually calms down, they spend the next few days cooing over Nessie and brainstorming how to handle Bella when she wakes up a vampire, and also nicknaming Nessie ‘Nessie’ because they know Bella will find that intolerable and they feel she deserves karmic punishment for stressing them out so much lmao

so, three days are up. Seth’s upstairs putting on a way-too-elaborate puppet show for the baby with not a care in the world. Leah and Jake are in the basement because they know Bella probably won’t want their wolf blood and their ready to phase in case she gets a little aggressive

but she just wakes up and is like. hey! how’s it going? where’s my baby?

sjdhfksdj they were expecting feral but Bella still has her super self-control. she didn’t even realize she’d changed into a vampire until they told her lmao

Bella’s a little too freaked out to try hunting yet so they give her some of the stored blood they’ve been feeding Ness and she’s like. good to go. Leah’s about to scream like have the elders been exaggerating this whole time or is Bella truly a freak??? lol

So, they spend a couple days just...relaxing, Bella and Renesmee bonding, they’re trying to come up with fun places Bella can move to with the baby so no one she knows finds out, and every now and then Leah and Jake go out and she tries to help him get the wolf thing under control

and then,,,,the pack get back from their mission early

and immediately are able to read Jacob’s mind

so they head over to Start Shit because there’s two bloodsuckers on their land but,

the pack not attacking because Jake imprinted on Renesmee? tired. the pack not attacking because Jake’s Alpha Genes have taken over and declared Nessie and Bella as part of his Pack and attacking would literally start a war? inspired

so they hash the whole thing out....ultimately Sam decides Bella is more of a victim than a threat, and since neither her or Nessie seem to be going on a bloodlust rampage any time soon...he decides to grant them immunity from the whole ‘kill the vampires’ rule. He’ll let her and her daughter stay in La Push as long as they agree to stick to animals and only hunt out of town. PLUS from what little Bella knows about the Volturi, she’s worried about them finding out about Nessie, so they’ll offer protection if that does happen, in exchange for her being able to help them with intel on any other vampire threats in the area (you know like. if a nomad is fucking stuff up in a nearby city, they’ll send her to talk to them first before deciding if they need to intervene. Sam has become acutely aware he has a lot of teens and kids in his pack, so he’s trying to keep them out of fights as much as possible)

anyway that’s the story of Nessie gaining like 17 chaotic as hell ride or die uncles,

let’s fast forward a bit

it’s like 15 years later. Bella’s not living with Leah anymore, but she’s got a cute apartment in a nearby town, and owns and runs a bookstore on the first floor of it. she got her ged and did college online and teaches night classes at a community college. She’s still in contact with her parents, who Adore the life out of Nessie. She still helps the pack out and they’re all close. Nessie is a handful but in a fun and lovable way. They go on little weekend trips whenever they have time. Bella’s happy.

but then a. Situation. arises.

basically, the Volturi have been made aware of some unknown vampire chasing others out of the pacific northwest and conspiring with shapeshifters. and you know when Aro gets curious he tends to spin things dramatically. who’s to say this vampire isn’t conspiring against all vampires? against them? why has no one’s special talents worked on her? he simply must find out.

Bella and the Pack get word and decide their best course of action for now is to go on the run. they’re not gonna be able to take on a whole army but if they can bide some time and lay low they might be able to figure something out

except Bella is like....I have a teenage hybrid that the Volturi don’t know about yet...it would be EXTREMELY irresponsible to take her with me

but she can’t send Nessie to Charlie or Renee because they don’t know about her...dietary restrictions. She can’t stay with Billy or anyone else in La Push because the Volturi might trace the pack’s scent there and discover her. She’s panicking, they have to leave in a few days max and she can’t find a safe place for her daughter

and then she’s like.....fuck.

she had run into Jasper a couple of years ago- they have the same forgery guy and were heading to his building around the same time as a coincidence. She promised to forgive him for the party incident if he promised not to tell Edward he saw her and that she’s a vampire now. He agreed, but then told her Edward’s been living on his own for a while now and insisted on giving her his number...she never could bring herself to call it or delete it...but now...if she wants to be 100% Nessie is safe and protected...

fuck

So, the past 15 years have been fairly rough for Edward

he’s still convinced leaving in order to save Bella was the best course of action, but like...the vampires canonically mate for life. that’s his soulmate. he’s absolutely miserable without her. he’s thought about cracking and going to find her again but he always talks himself out of it, convinced she’d just tell him she hates him or something

so as stated in his patented Edward Cullen Self Loathing Guide, first thing to do is isolate yourself from all the lovebirds you usually live with. Sure, he keeps in contact, but...not well. he’s currently living alone and posing as a university student. He’s not even really sure what he’s supposed to be majoring in. He’s mostly been in a haze since he left Forks.

and one day....he gets a call from an unknown number. he ignores it, thinking it’s a spam call. but then it calls like 8 more times in a row and he figures answering might be a bit smarter than simply throwing it at the wall

And Edward...swears he came back to life and immediately had a heart attack the second he hears Bella’s voice

He feels breathless and disoriented the whole conversation, trying to figure out if his memory did her voice any justice, trying to rush out 15 years worth of apologies, trying to comprehend she’s actually speaking to him.

But Bella’s very blunt on the phone. She doesn’t want to let herself get emotional. She’s on a time limit, and she has to focus on getting her daughter to safety

And Edward swears he somehow misheard her the first ten or so times she told him. He had a daughter? that wasn’t possible

“she has the audacity to be your Evil Twin so I’m pretty sure it’s possible”

so she gives him a rundown. she needs to go into hiding, no I don’t need your help with that, gives him details about Nessie, what she’s like, what she likes to do, her diet, her favorite color, how annoyed she is by this whole situation, “Edward I know you don’t love me anymore, but I remember how protective you were, and that’s what I need Nessie to have right now. She needs you right now” and Edward wants so badly to refute Bella’s claim of lost love, to tell her he has absolutely no idea how to be a parent, but...her tone is aching so much he can barely speak. He can’t let Bella down again, and he can’t let this little girl he foolishly created and left down anymore than he already has, either.

So he agrees, she tells him to be at the airport in a few days, and hangs up.

Edward loses about half a day staring at a wall in shock, before he jumps into preparations.

Bella told him while their daughter possessed some speed and strength, hunting was fairly dangerous for her. She was more delicate than his kind, and had a heartbeat. Reheated blood bags had been their best option, and she also needed human food as well. He also had to get a room ready for her- he wandered around stores for hours, reading young girls minds to see if there was any furniture or decorations that were universally liked- which was of course, fruitless, but he did manage to find a handful of things he was sure Bella would have liked at that age, and prayed for the best. He somehow got himself covered in purple paint that was a nightmare to get off. Bella had sent him some forged documents claiming Nessie was his younger sister he’d won custody of, and he got her enrolled in a nearby school. He lived every day leading up to her arrival staving off a panic attack.

it wasn’t until he was on the way to the airport that he realized he forgot to inform his family about this life update. they must’ve been on a hunting trip, because he got nothing but voicemails

imagine being Carlisle and you come home to a voicemail from your son who’s banished himself from the family that’s just like ‘hi. you’re a grandfather now. I’m having a nervous breakdown and might crash my car. call me back at your earliest convenience I suppose” like what would you DO

after he gets to the airport he starts panicking again, realizing Bella had never actually sent him a picture, worrying about how he’d find her, but then- he sees a tiny girl with untamed, dark red curls, features strikingly similar to his own that are pulled into the expression Bella always made when she was reading, absently chewing on her lip, and before she looks at him with her mother’s big brown eyes, he already knows who he’s looking at, and he’s certain if he was human his tear ducts would be having a fit right now

Renesmee, however, seems less willing to have an emotional meeting. She mumbles out a simple greeting before gathering up her bags and heading for the door, Edward rushing behind her to try and help

listen. the awkwardness of Charlie trying to connect with Bella. but 10000x worse because of Edward’s overthinking, self-deprecating ass and Nessie being like ‘ah yes the guy who broke my pregnant teenage mothers heart, fantastic’ lmao

the car ride is p a i n f u l. Edward’s trying so hard for light conversation and Nessie’s barely giving one word answers. Bella had warned her about the mind reading so she was carefully keeping her mind blocked, which Edward is trying very hard to be understanding about instead of annoyed, but By God does he want to know everything about her

when they get back to his place, she quietly thanks him for the room and then promptly locks him out of it lol. He spends the rest of the day just pacing back and forth until he realizes he should eventually feed her lmao

and that’s...kinda how the first couple weeks go. she only emerges from her room if he bribes her with food, she awkwardly tries to dodge his questions, he drives her to school and then begs her to tell him how it went when he picks her up, he spends his college classes distracted because he’s freaking out constantly about how to successfully bond with her. His favorite time of day now is night, because she can’t block her mind while she’s asleep, and even if her dreams are all nonsense they’re still...part of her that he gets to know.

His family keeps begging him to let them meet her, but he’s pushing back because if she’s this bad at adjusting to one new family member, how is she going to handle six more?

(meanwhile Alice and Rose started a group chat with her and are having a ball clowning Edward lmao)

wait ksjflksd I think this vine perfectly sums up the dynamic im envisioning https://youtu.be/wQZIUHNORHg

anyway they....very slowly make some progress. much too slowly for Edward’s taste, but hey.

Like he finds out snacks she likes. or jewelry she likes. stuff like that and just...wordlessly leaves it around for her lmao. he thinks it’s like trying not to startle a deer, Nessie thinks it’s more like a cat trying to gift you a dead mouse, but either way it’s weirdly endearing.

He notices she always has a huffy little frown when he picks her up on Wednesdays. So instead of begging her for an ounce of information of her school life, he asks her one Wednesday morning if she’s excited for the day and she admits she has an elective class every Wednesday with a girl she doesn’t get along with.

He gets her school photos (and Weeps) and realizes apart from her room the home is fairly barren of decorations, so he buys a bunch of picture frames and hangs up the school shots, and some pictures of the Cullen’s over the years, and the few he has of Bella that he could never bear to part with. Other than catching her smiling at the prom picture of her parents, Nessie doesn’t say anything- but the next time he comes home from hunting, there’s a pile of pictures of her growing up on the table, and he starts weeping all over again as he hangs them up

(there’s one of her and Bella hugging and looking at the camera with identical grins and joy in their eyes, he can’t help but put that in his room. He hopes one day he’ll get to see a scene like that in person)

He starts trying to get her out of her room a little more- he still hasn’t managed to a get a ‘favorites’ list out of her, so he starts playing movies Bella loved, to see if any of them lure her out. some do, some don’t- he got halfway through a Lord of the Rings marathon, which was Torture in his opinion, but then Ness came out and quietly asked if he could restart it and suddenly they became his favorite movies ever.

Bella’s not able to contact her on a set schedule or anything because of her situation (and you can bet your ass Edward’s contacted every vampire he knows and ordered them to help her out if they come across her or the Volturi), and Edward realizes that’s probably taking a toll on the girl, so he starts telling her stories of her mother when he knew her in Forks. She’s particularly amused by the blood typing incident- the first time Edward hears Nessie properly laugh, he literally starts crying on the spot

could you imagine the sheer panic if she ever gets so much as a cold

And yes, she’s still pissed on Bella’s behalf, and yes, she specifically blasts 70s music because Bella told her he hates it one time, and yes, if he looks at her like he’s a kicked puppy one more time she might claw his eyes out, and yes, she refuses to introduce him to her friends from school because she Knows everyone will then start asking her about her ‘hot brother’ and she can’t live with that and also can’t live with him knowing that so she told him if he ever introduces himself to any of her friends she’ll set him on fire, and yes, she’s homesick 95% of the time but...he’s growing on her. like a mold, or something.

(okay, maybe when Seth tried to analyze why Mamma Mia is her favorite musical, he might have had a point. half a point. quarter of a point. shut up.)

And Edward’s still trying to not have a panic attack every time she’s out of his sight- he’s got Carlisle keeping tabs on the Volturi for him, and it’s not exactly hard for him to keep track of her through other people’s minds- but she’s so tiny and her heartbeat is Too Fast and what if she inherited her mother’s unlucky streak??

but they’re toeing the line of co-existing peacefully and Edward’s scared to push it past that

then he has to, because it turns out he sent her to one of Those Schools where the parents have to be involved in the school in some way or another and Nessie’s Annoyed

sdkjfsdkjf she keeps trying to get him to just sign up for like pta meetings or something and he’s like ‘I need you to understand you are the only person in this town I actually know or like I Cannot survive around fundraiser moms I can’t’

so she’s like ugh fine I’m in the drama club

listen.....Stage Parent Edward Cullen.......the power this holds...

that’s right this whole post was an elaborate ruse for me to make a musical theater headcanon again lmao

no okay but seriously he starts off just helping build sets and stuff like that but then midway through the year their music teacher gets fired and the schools like begging him to take over because they can’t find someone in enough time that’ll know the music for the show they’re doing and he’s like “I need you to understand Nessie will never talk to me again if I start actually working at her school” and they’re like “She also will never talk to you again if we have to cancel the big musical, though” and he’s like. fuck.

silent treatment for a week and a half

lmao so now he’s trying to juggle being an overly-enthusiastic stage parent who’s making costumes and sets and kinda crying backstage when he sees his daughter in her costume with also being the music director for the damn show and trying to teach a bunch of kids how to read sheet music

one day he ended up in a coffee shop with the hair and makeup moms, gossiping about the cast’s love lives, and he literally doesn’t know how he got there

is it wrong to pass Nessie in class even though she’s putting all the wrong answers on the test but he Knows she knows the right answers and is only answering wrong to try and get a rise out of him

Bella sneaks into town to see the show- they thought it would push their luck if the pack came, but they sent an ungodly amount of flowers and candy. When she snuck into the house while Ness was sleeping she Was Not expecting to find Edward up to his elbows in sequins, trying to fix a bedazzler he accidentally broke in frustration, muttering under his breath about how if Nessie’s romantic opposite in the show doesn’t keep his thoughts clean he’s gonna kill him- and it just cracks her up. She WAS nervous about seeing Edward again but now she’s assured he’s still a dork lol

So Edward freaks when he sees her but they don’t wanna wake Ness up so they’re trying to be quiet but like. they’re going through it

Like Bella Wants to be pissed at him but she can’t, she still loves him- and while she can’t just get over what he did to her, it’s also not lost on her that ‘leaving to protect someone I love’ is literally what she had to do to her daughter

And Edward....Edward, who only left to give Bella a chance at a safe, human life, seeing Bella in front of him as a vampire, knowing it’s his fault she ended up that way and she had to go through it alone, had to raise a baby herself because he’d made it so hard to find him...knowing if he’d just pulled his head out of his ass he would have been able to be there for her...would be able to form a coherent sentence around his love right now, would have long and fond memories of Nessie’s childhood, likely wouldn’t have to watch Bella hide from the Volturi...he’s back in a self-loathing spiral already

But they haven’t seen each other in so long and they just don’t want to...deal with the unpleasantness right now, so they just push it aside. Bella helps Edward with the costumes. Edward fills her in on what she’s been missing with Nessie. Bella tells him some stuff about when Ness was younger. They just spend the night talking, and it feels like no time has past between them at all- which just makes the heartaches a little stronger

When Nessie wakes up to her mother there she’s ecstatic- bubbly and loud and glued to Bella’s hip all day, giving her in depth play-by-plays of her school and rehearsals and friends she’s made, bouncing on her toes all morning, hyper, giggly, and- it kind of breaks Edward’s heart a little, even though he knows he hasn’t really...earned this side of his daughter, yet.

(at least he got his wish of seeing their twin smiles in person)

(he wishes he could see them every second of every day)

so the girls spend the day catching up while Edward mostly feels like a thirdwheel, and then they have to get Ness over to the school so she can get ready

Bella decides to hang out around the school theater before the show actually starts- she leans against the wall next to the piano, the two talking in hushed tones while Edward runs through songs. Bella really missed watching him play- the only thing that managed to drag her away from it was when Nessie called her to the dressing room to help with a hair emergency

she didn’t talk to him much at intermission, her attention being stolen by the rest of the Cullen family (who had been Very Loudly supporting the show so far, she knew Ness was probably dying of embarrassment backstage)

after the show, the three went back to Edward’s and just...talked. Nessie was gushing about the show and eating while her parents assured her she was the greatest actress ever born, simple stuff like that. she fell asleep sandwiched in between them on the couch

Bella realizes she’s never going to be able to bring herself to leave again if Nessie wakes up, and tells Edward as much. He clearly doesn’t want her to go just yet either, but...she’s on the run, it’s not like she has much choice

He has so much he wants to say to her but he just- can’t. it’s not the right time. but he’s hoping she can see that in his eyes

Bella shifts Nessie off her shoulder so Edward can hold her, and she gives him a light kiss and says ‘thank you, Edward’ before disappearing in a flash. she needed to go before she lost her nerve.

Edward can’t bring himself to let Nessie out of his arms, so instead of carrying her to bed he just stays there, holding her, trying his best not to think that that could be the last time for a long time he’d ever see his Bella again, trying not to let thoughts of a life he gave up unwittingly consume him

okay I didn’t mean for this to be So Long so I’m cutting it here uhh...let me know if anyone wants a part 2? sorry lmao

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella #twilight saga #asks #molly mumbles #elephantlovingmouse

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years ago

Text

bad day | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj has a bad day and he just wants to be with you

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of abuse, sad jj, fluffy ending (ofc)

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

3.5k+ words

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To the outside world, JJ Maybank has a perfect life. He has the best group of friends, he parties all the time, he has all the freedom in the world, and most importantly, he has you.

To the outside world, it is practically impossible for JJ Maybank to have a bad day. How can you have a bad day when you have a perfect life?

The only person in the world that knew that bad days are actually a common occurrence in JJ’s life, was you.

When the two of you had first started dating over a year ago, you too had believed that JJ’s life was perfect. His outgoing personality and carefree nature were what initially attracted him to you and he fought hard to maintain that persona. It wasn't until three months into your relationship that you realized that the blonde boy had it so much harder than you could've possibly imagined.

Truth be told, JJ didn't open up to you on purpose. In fact, if he had it his way, you would have never had to see him break down the way that he did.

You didn't know what to do when you first found your boyfriend laying on the bathroom floor in the Chateau, body shaking with sobs. At first, you thought he had been in another rough quarrel with Rafe and his friends. But when he looked up at you, tear stains on his cheeks and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, you knew this wasn't just some run-in with a couple of kooks.

It didn't take long for you to get over your original state of shock and comfort the boy. Your younger sister had bad anxiety and experienced panic attacks often, and still, you found yourself on the less prepared side when it came to soothing the blonde you adored so much. It was hard for you to understand that the tough, wild, teenager that you had fallen in love with was simply a cover for the fragile boy inside.

You can still vividly remember sitting on the bathroom floor for hours with JJ. Despite your unfamiliarity with your boyfriend’s suffering, there was not one second that you had even remotely questioned your love for him. If anything, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your appreciation for him grow.

JJ himself, on the other hand, did not know how to accept the comfort you had given him. He was so used to being alone every time he was feeling down. So used to hiding all of his emotions from the people around him.

The two of you went through many difficult nights of him pushing you away and trying to block you out. But just as fast as he was building up his wall, you were tearing it down.

JJ doesn't know the exact moment when he allowed himself to succumb to your solace. Still to this day, it's hard for him to believe that someone as beautiful and compassionate as you can possibly love someone like him.

The more he let you in, the harder it was to be without you and now, whenever he had a run-in with his father or was unsure of himself, his first impulse was to call you.

You never hesitated to comfort the boy, knowing that he would do the same for you. And as much as you tried to stay strong for JJ, sometimes everything got to be a little bit too much.

JJ will never forget the day you were holding him after a fight with his father and you couldn't hold it in anymore. You let out heart-wrenching sobs into his hair. The sound alone brought tears to his own eyes and the two of you held each other all night, whispering sweet nothing to one another.

JJ is having a bad day.

He should have known when he woke up this morning and you weren't in his arms. He glanced over, immediately recognizing your small handwriting on a blue sticky note which was stuck to your pillow. The note explained that your parents had asked you to come home, but that you would come back to the chateau to be with him that night.

have a great day and don't miss me too much lovie!

His heart fluttered at your sweet words. How did he get so god damn lucky? Popping open his phone case, JJ folds your note and sticks it inside, just in case he needs to read it again later.

Despite the loving feeling he got in his chest while reading your note, his day quickly went downhill.

When JJ opened the cabinets above the sink to make himself a bowl of cereal, they were empty. He brushed it off and went to work with an empty stomach.

At the hotel, a group of kids bumped into him while he was clearing a table and he dropped a wine glass on the floor, shattering it. His boss chewed him out for 30 minutes before putting him on dish duty for the rest of his shift.

After work, JJ went to the local market and used his tip money from the day to buy a sandwich and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for you. He knew you would make a big fuss about him spending his money on you, but he loved to see the cute look of surprise on your face whenever he got you something like this. It made whatever he had gotten for you worth every penny.

On his way back to the Chateau, JJ was stopped by none other than Rafe, Topper, and Kelse on their bikes. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing that you hated when he got into fights, but as soon as Rafe mentioned a snide comment about your ass, JJ immediately threw the first punch. He didn't realize until after the fact that one of them had stomped on the flowers he bought for you.

As much as he hated it, the blonde boy knew he needed to go home to get a fresh pair of clothes. He could always ask you to get a pair from the drawer of his clothes you had in your room, but that would require telling you what had happened and he didn't want to be a bother while you were with your family.

He knew he was screwed when he arrived at his “house” and saw his father's truck parked in the dirt outside. JJ hoped that he would be able to slip by without being noticed, but his horrible luck from the day continued.

His father was in the stage of his drinking where he was drunk enough to be angry with his son, but not drunk enough for JJ to outrun him.

JJ’s cheek throbbed on his walk back to the Chateau and he was sure that he was sporting a fresh black eye. His ribs were sore as hell and the only thing that kept him moving was the thought of seeing you.

When he arrived at John B’s house he instantly took note of your missing car. He prayed that you had simply walked and that he would see you laying on the couch when he entered.

There was someone sitting on the couch, but it was not the person JJ was looking for.

“Dude,” John B said when he noticed JJ’s figure standing in the doorway. “What happened to your face?”

“Where's (Y/N),” the blonde asked, ignoring John’s question.

“She called and said she wasn't sure if she would make it,” Kie said, drawing JJ’s attention to where she was standing. “Her friend Carlee’s boyfriend cheated on her, so she went to comfort her. She said she tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail,” the curly-haired girl explained.

Glancing down at his phone, JJ noticed it was dead. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted was to see his girl after a shit day, was that too much to ask? He knew first hand your dedication to your loved ones, and he knew it wasn't fair of him to want all of your comfort and love for himself, but he couldn't help it.

You were too nice, he decided. But that's why he loved you so much, wasn't it?

“So what happened to your face,” John B asked again, taking a sip of his beer.

JJ glowered at his best friend. “What do you care,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn't take his frustrations out on John B, but you were his coping method and he didn't know what to do without that.

John B raised his hands in defense, standing up to grab another beer. “Jeez, dude,” he said, “Just asking.”

“Well maybe you should mind your own goddamn business,” JJ yelled.

The brunette boy halted his actions and turned to face JJ. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, voice rising. “You really want to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He definitely didn't. “You know,” JJ snapped, “Maybe if you spent time with your actual friends instead of your fucking kook girlfriend, you would know what was going on in my life.”

John B scoffed “That's rich coming from the guy who spends every waking moment trying to impress a girl who's way out of his league,” he yells.

JJ knows he's right. You were too good for him. But you chose him anyway. Why?

“Fuck you,” JJ sneers, shoving past his best friend and walking out the back doors. He needed space.

You were getting ready to leave your friend's house when Kiara called you.

Carlee was a sweet girl, and her douche of a boyfriend definitely didn't deserve her so you told her exactly that. But this wasn't the first time something like that had happened between them and based on previous occurrences, you figured Carlee would go a week before she decided to get back together with him.

It was times like these where you really thanked your lucky stars that you had found a boy like JJ. The two of you had your moments like any healthy couple, but you knew in your heart that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

You smiled when you saw Kie’s contact. “Hey girl,” you answer in a country accent, giggling at the end.

“(Y/N),” she said and your smile dropped, immediately understanding that there was something wrong. “You need to come to the Chateau right now.”

Your feet skid to a stop and you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Is JJ okay?” you ask her in a rushed tone.

Kie’s voice is shaky when she speaks. “He came over today with a black eye and a bruised cheek and when John B asked about it JJ kind of freaked out,” she explains. “They are screaming at each other right now. (Y/N), you gotta come quick,” you could hear yelling in the background.

“I'm on my way,” you assure her, hanging up. You run to your car, heart twisting in worry. It wasn't like your boyfriend to act like this so you knew something had to have happened.

You drove to the Chateau faster than you ever have before, getting there in under five minutes. The second your car pulled up to the house. You were flying out of your car and running inside the screen door.

“He's outback,” John B says upon seeing you enter.

Your eyes snap to him and they soften at the sight of his distraught face. “You alright, JB?” you ask.

He nods slowly. “I've never seen him like that, (Y/N),” John B tells you, his voice laced with worry. “You gotta help him.”

You nod your head, walking outside to find your boyfriend. You don't have to go far, spotting his hunched over the figure on the porch steps.

Slowly, you make your way towards the boy, and despite the fact that it's the middle of summer he is shivering violently.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately flinches away from your touch. Your heart breaks at his reaction. “JJ, love, it's me,” you tell him softly, crouching down next to his body.

Hearing your voice, JJ lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears and the skin around the right one is hidden by blue and purple. Your eyes scan his face and you take note of the bruise on his cheekbone and his split lip. Your hands itch to remove his shirt, knowing that there are more hidden underneath.

The sound of JJ’s choked sob brings your eyes instantly back to his.

“Oh, J,” you say sorrowfully, opening your arms for him. “C’mere.”

The blonde boy instantly falls into your embrace and you cradle his body tightly. He sobs into your shoulder and you feel a wet patch grow in your shirt. “I needed you, I need you,” he cries into your shoulder.

Softly shushing him, you run your fingers through his hair. “I'm here, J, I'm here,” you tell him, your heart aching for the boy in your arms. You don't know exactly how long you sit there, his hands clutching the back of your shirt tightly.

Slowly, his sobs die down before he is only sniffling every few seconds.

You pull back slightly, tenderly cupping his face in your hands. “Can we go inside?” you ask, gently brushing back the blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead.

JJ nods slightly and you stand up on the porch, helping him do the same. You bite your lip when you notice his subtle limp on the way inside. You notice how quiet the Chateau is and silently thank John B and Kiara for giving JJ the space he needs.

Leading him into the bathroom, you help JJ sit on the counter and you quickly grab the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Opening it, you grab a cotton swab and an alcohol wipe to clean his lip and cheek, wordlessly realizing how many times you've had to do this.

“Why are you here,” the blonde boy asks abruptly. If you weren't paying attention you would have missed his small voice.

“What'd you mean, J?” you ask, continuing your work.

JJ sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks again, slightly louder, but still quieter than you are used too.

“Well, I was leaving Carlee’s house and Kie called me and told me that you-” JJ cuts you off, pulling away from your grasp slightly.

“No, (Y/N),” his tone is harsh but you can hear the brokenness laced behind it. “Why are you here? With me instead of with your friends? Or better yet another guy that can buy you nice things and doesn't have emotional trauma? A guy who's not broken?” he says the word with such hatred that it shakes you to your core.

“JJ,” you gasp, hurt flashing across your features. How could he think that? JJ instantly wants to take it back, but he wants even more to know your answer. “You are not broken, you hear me?” you say, honesty clear in your voice. “Your flaws are what make you, you. I don't need fancy gifts or expensive jewelry to make me love you! I love every single thing about you, JJ Maybank. From your head to your toes. I love you just the way that you are and there is nothing you can do to take that away from me. Ever.” Your voice is strong and serious. You leave no room for argument as you continue to patch up his face.

JJ doesn't speak again letting the words sink in, scared that he will break down for the second time that night. His eyes fall to the floor and he lets you tend to his cuts.

When you are satisfied with your work on his face, you tap the boy's arm lightly and his eyes snap to yours. “Lift your shirt so I can see,” you ask him, not making eye contact. When he doesn't move, your eyes lock with his. “Please, J,” you beg, in a quiet voice, “I need to see.”

The blonde knows he will never be able to say no to you, especially when you ask him that way, so he gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and wincing when he moves the wrong way.

JJ expects you to pity him. To tell him you're sorry the way everyone does. But you simply stare at his injuries, eyes welling with tears. And this, JJ decides, makes him feel infinitely worse.

Your hand reaches out to trace the large, purple-black bruises. JJ shivers at the touch of your soft hands on his skin.

He grabs your hand suddenly, pulling it up to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, using the hand not in JJ’s to run through his hair. “None of that, okay? I'm here because I want to be. And I will always be. No matter how many times you try to push me away.”

You feel hot tears on your hand and you quickly slide between his legs, pulling him back into your chest, careful of the bruises on his ribs.

“I love you,” JJ cries into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything else in this fucked up world.”

“Shh,” you say softly. “I know, lovie, I know. I love you too. Endlessly.”

JJ pulls back at your words, just enough so that he can look into your eyes.

You used to think your favorite color was purple. When you were ten you painted your entire room purple and even bought purple bedding. But the moment you looked into JJ’s cerulean eyes, it instantly became your new favorite color.

JJ looks from your eyes to your lips before leaning forward to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and passionate explaining every emotion the two of you were feeling. No matter how many times the two of you kissed, your heart raced like it was the very first time.

Pulling away for air, JJ rests his forehead on yours.

“What happened today, J?” you ask in a quiet voice.

JJ bites his lip, leaning back slightly. His first instinct is to tell you that nothing happened and that he's okay, but JJ knows you wouldn't believe him for a second. So he recalls his day, telling you every detail. Just knowing that you know, makes JJ’s heart feel a little less heavy. “A-and I bought you these flowers from the florist on main, y-y'know the ones you love, and I couldn't even bring them to you,” he says sadly.

You caress his cheek. “Love, I don't care about the flowers, all that matters is that you're okay,” you assure him, honesty evident in his voice. “And as for your father, you are staying here or at my house from now on and the next time I see that son of a bi-”

JJ cuts you off, grabbing your hands. The last thing he ever wants is his father hurting you. “(Y/N), no,” he says, the vulnerability in his voice evident. “You need to promise me that you won't confront him. I don't want you getting hurt.”

You sigh, knowing how important this is to the blonde boy. “Only if you promise not to go back there unless I'm with you,” you compromise with him.

He nods, kissing your forehead gently. “Can we please go to bed,” JJ asks and you can hear the sleepiness in his voice. Nodding, you help JJ off the counter and the two of you walk to the spare room in the chateau. The two of you climb into the bed. You are still in your clothes from the day, but that is the last thing on your mind.

JJ moves his arms to wrap around your middle but you gently push his shoulder back. “Turn around, J,” you tell him quietly. You know that JJ secretly loves to be the little spoon and you secretly love to be the big spoon. He would never openly ask you to spoon him, but you can read his body language like a book.

He rolls to his other side and you wrap an arm around his bare middle, careful not to hit any of his bruises. You nuzzle your nose into the back of his tanned shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply.

“I love you (Y/N)” your boyfriend whispers, his hand reaching to hold your hand that is tracing his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Always, JJ,” you tell him earnestly. “I love you more than anything.”

The blonde boy falls asleep in your embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist :)

4K notes · View notes

divinefireangel · 4 years ago

Text

Scream Princess

SF9 Jaeyoon x F! Reader Smut.

YES I USED THIS GIF ON PURPOSE 😈

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Listen. I fucking hate frat boys okay 😂. So this was easy to write cause Jae is hot and I'll do anything for him 🥰 This is the longest fic I've written so far. And I'm proud. I hope you like it anon! I have to warn you, I didn't include the choking sadly 😔 slipped my mind. But I still hope it lives up to expectations 🥺.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Fuck buddies/enemies to lovers. We live for that cute shit. Rough sex. Mentions of blowjobs. Fingering (f receiving). Jae calls reader 'princess', just incase I wasn't clear. And it's smut, so your typical smut warnings. Nothing overboard don't worry. But do let me know if I need to add something more. Not proof read. Excuse the errors.

Requested: Yes! By a lovely anon 🖤

frat! boy jaeyoon and you have a love hate relationship. you love him when he chokes u and calls u princess, hate him every other second. maybe he gets so jealous at a party seeing u play pong w someone else that he takes u upstairs to make u not hate him and to let everyone else youre his.

2.8k Words ;)

It was a simple arrangement. When either of you are horny, you fuck. And the rest of the time, you pretend he doesn't exist. Ugh how you hate fratboys. But Jaeyoon is hot. You gotta give him that. And he works out a lot which is very much seen on him and the way he tosses your around when you fuck.

Sex with him is just so fulfilling. He'll give you everything you want. The passion. The speed, always fast. The way his tongue always makes you so hot. Just thinking about it makes you wet. The way he stares at you with so much hateful fire that you mirror, when he's so deep in you. The bruises he leaves when he grips you so tight you can't escape from under him. The soreness you feel after every session of sexual entanglement is just delicious. You hate it.

But what you enjoy most is how he calls you 'princess' while fucking your guts out. The rest of the time, you can't tolerate his existence. It makes you wanna roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. You hate his playboy manners, the way he always acts like he's so cool cause he's a part of the most popular fraternity on campus. You hate how he's so cocky and acts like every girl walking would just drop their panties if he told them to. You hate that he thinks he's better than everyone. You hate him, so much.

And so here you are, at one of his frat parties, as much as you didn't want to be here. Even after insisting that you're busy and don't want to go to the party, your friends and roommates didn't buy your excuses, stating that you need to get a boyfriend or at least get laid. Oh if only they knew. Standing in the corner of the lawn, a red solo cup with disgusting beer in your hand, you stare cringingly at the mess of hot bodies grinding against each other, desperate for god knows what. Yep. You are definitely not attending another such, event.

" Hey you busy? " A voice asked.

Looking to your right, then left you notice a cute guy, who was clearly looking at you. Blinking you look at him with a blank expression. What's he playing at, you wonder.

" Oh right sorry. I'm Youngbin. We're playing Beer Pong and we're a player short and you are standing here by yourself so I thought you could join us. If you want to, of course. No pressure. " He said flaying his hands around innocently.

Well you do have nothing to do right now, might as well follow the cute guy. Who knows, he may ask you out.

" Yeah sure! I'd love to. I'm Y/N, by the way. "

" Ah. Nice to meet you. Are you a freshman? "

" Sophmore actually. "

" Oh nice. I'm a senior. A few freshmen students are still underage, gotta be careful you know. "

" Oh yeah I get it. But you should know that they are at times wilder than us. " Giggling at your words, he leads you towards the table, finally reaching.

" Oh great you found someone. I'm Zuho. " Another cute guy said. Wow you were really gonna miss out if you'd stayed in your room.

" Y/N. " You said as you shook his hand.

" Okay so it's 3 versus 3. You guys start. " Zuho said to the collective mass, starting the game. Winning a few, and losing a lot of ping-pong balls, you were finally happy. A little tipsy, but still sober enough to do a math problem, you continued to play the game, now having more players on each team. Surprisingly, you were good at the game and not so surprisingly, you started to get close to Youngbin. Slight lingering touches on your arm, your waist and the tingle that went down your body when he moved you hair so you could focus on bouncing the ball. Maybe the ball wouldn't be the only thing that would be bouncing soon.

" YO YOUNGBIN! " A booming voice called. Oh no. You knew this voice. You knew it really well. Begrudgingly you turned to look at none other than Lee Jaeyoon. Of course the fucker is here. He's at every party, trying to hook up with random girls who all seem to be interested in him.

Staring at you intently as he hugged Youngbin, You wished the ground will open up and swallow you whole. Why was he here. You were having so much fun. Well who says you can't have fun with him right here, staring at you like you were a piece of candy. Yeah nope. Time to go home. Vibing with the music, you slowly start to step back as everyone at the pong table started to talk to Jaeyoon. After stepping far enough, you turn on your heel, ready to strint away. Feeling someone grab your wrist, you're turned around with so much force you crash into a hard chest, hands going to his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Looking to see who stopped you, you're met with a cocky smirk, adorning the face of, well you guessed it.

" Where are going? I thought you were having fun so I came to join you. And you decide to leave without telling me? I'm hurt princess. " He says, the smirk only getting bigger as your blood boils with rage. This fucker. If given a chance to wipe out someone's existence completely, you'd choose him.

" Yeah well. Since you're here, it won't be fun anymore. "

" Oh is that how it is? "

Nodding yes, you step away from him, crossing your arms as you try to look tall next to his broad, tree like, super climbable figure. Stop it. Don't think of him like that. Not now at least.

Running his tongue on the inside of him cheek, he looks down at you. He looks hot. And angry?

" Well princess, I'm hurt. Right here. " Pointing at his chest, he moves closer to you. Breath hitching, you stare at him wide eyed, as his face comes to your eye level.

" You seemed to have forgotten out arrangement princess. "

What is he talking about. Was he drunk? Sniffing, you check if he was drunk. He wasn't. Which is shocking. Grabbing your upper arms and pulling you near with his hands, his lips move to your ear.

" I'm not happy with the way you were getting so close to Youngbin. You shouldn't do that when you have me. "

" Excuse me. What. " You say, breaking free from his grip. Looking at him, your face screams, 'Are you crazy'. Well someone should.

" What the fuck do you mean ' you're not happy'. Last I checked, I'm a free independent woman, who is single, and would very much like a cute caring boyfriend AND who doesn't just wish to be someone's fuck-buddy. So if you may, I'd like to go ask out Youngbin. " Smiling bitterly, you try to make your way around Jaeyoon, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back into Jaeyoon's muscular chest.

Glaring at you, he starts to walk towards his room, a path you aren't new to, as his grip on your wrist tightens, pulling you with him. Entering the room, he pushes you in, then locks it. Stumbling, you grab his chair so you don't fall. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

" What in the actual HELL is wrong with you! What the fuck dude. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? Is it cause I was actually happy flirting with Youngbin? Last I checked, I don't belong to anyone. And especially not to you. So don't go around acting like you're my boyfriend because you aren't. And don't at all act like you care about me because the whole wide freakin world knows that you care about no one but yourself. So move, before I kick you so hard you'll have to go the hospital. " To say you were angry would be so wrong. You were furious. His existence infuriates you.

" I like you. "

" What? " Is he for real? Manipulation? Really?

" I'm not trying to manipulate you. I really do like you. And I wasn't happy seeing you get touchy with one of my friends. " Is he a mind reader or something? Probably. I mean he does know what you want when you just whine and writhe under him as he pleasures- Wait no! Stop.

" Why tell me now? " You ask calmly, well as calm as you could get without letting your guard down.

" Because... I don't know okay! I just, I just couldn't stand there as he got close to you. When it could've been.... Well could be me.... " He said slowly. You've never seen him so, vulnerable. He looks like a sad puppy.

" I'm sorry but, are you sure? " Chewing on your lower lip, you wait for him to reply. How can he like so suddenly. It's not natural right?

" I am. I really like you. And I want you to be my strong independent girlfriend. I want to take you out on a date. A real one. Many dates. Please just give me a chance. You won't regret it. " Taking your hand in his, he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. Dramatically, you life your eyes up, only to find him looking at you with puppy eyes. Nodding your head slowly, you swallow. Breaking a grin on his face, he places your hands on his wide shoulders as he connects your lips for the first time this evening, his hands wandering from your waist to your hips.

" Oh baby. I'll make sure you never regret this decision. " And with that he places his hands on your ass, tapping it so you jump in his arms. Obliging, you connect your lips again, wanting to feel them melt against yours as you process what's happening. Placing your on the table, he removes yours and his jackets, throwing them on the floor somewhere. Moving close to your seated figure, his hands find themselves on your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you again and again till you're both out of air in your lungs. He slowly grinds his hips to your front, your knees going around his hips as your hands tug at his shirt.

Stepping back he removes his shoes and shirt, exposing his well toned chest and abs to you. Removing your footwear and freeing your hair, you beckon him to come to you as you bite your lip seductively. Smirking, he obeys you, coming as close to you as you want. Lips meet your neck, one hand to your hair, pulling it till your head tilts back exposing the flesh on your neck to him, his other hand wandering up under your top. Hunching it in your palms, you remove your top as he wastes no time to undo your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

Kissing down your body, his lips latch on to your left nipple, hand toying and twisting the other. Arching your body into his face, you grab his hair, pulling it like you always do. Releasing your nipple with a pop, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. Raising his free hand to your head, he advances in your direction till your chests meet, skin to skin, heat to heat, and lips meet once more.

Without breaking the kiss, he discards his pants, leaving him in boxers. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifts you up moving the two for you to his bed. Gently he puts you on the matress, hands finding the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling them down your legs. Staring in your eyes he bites his lip, freeing it sexily he leans his face down to your neck, kissing, biting and marking you with little lovebites.

Rotating your head to the opposite side you gasp when you feel his fingers rub your folds over your panties. Lifting your upper body off the bed slightly your hands grab hold of his wrist that's on your needy mound. Keeping them there you begin to grind yourself on his fingers, releasing breathy moans of constricting pleasure.

" Fuck princess, you look so hot grinding yourself against me. Let me take care of that for you. " He whispers on your ear, chills travelling down your body reaching just where you need him. Letting go of his wrist, you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him again. Moaning in his mouth when he moves your panties to a side with his fingers, touching your wet pussy. Groaning at how wet you are, he easily slips in two fingers in your hole, pumping them slowly. Breaking the kiss you curse at the feeling of his thick digits moving along your entrance.

" Oh fuck. Yes- Please don't stop " You gasp when he touches your g-spot with his fingertips at the same time his thumb finds your clit. Increasing the pace of his fingers, he presses his nose on your cheek, breathing out ragged breaths as he grinds his dick to the matress at your moans. Roughly he rubs your clit pulling out as you cry in protest, feeling empty. Opening your eyes at the loss of warmth above you, you feel his hands pulling your panties down your legs, noticing his hard length, tip so red he would probably cum if your wrapped your mouth around him. Ripping open the condom, he rolls it on his cock, forcefully making your lay on your back as he enters you whole. Crying out at feeling so full with his dick deep in your pussy, you arch your back adjusting to his thick length. Slipping an arm below you when you do so, he licks your lower lip, biting it and pulling at it.

Drawing his hips back just a little, he slowly starts to ease himself in you, body rocking against yours, hair falling down on your forehead, hands grabbing your waist to keep you in place. Pressing your fingers into his back you chant his name, encouraging him to go further and faster. Being the mind reader he is, he pulls out almost whole, before ramming his cock in as fast as he can. Screaming out in pleasant surprise you hug him tighter, allowing him to go faster and faster till you lose your voice.

" Princess. You're so tight around me. Yes baby, scream my name " He growls in your ear deeply, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each thrust, feeling full till your stomach every time his dick is balls deep. And feeling just as empty when he drags out. Your hole stretched out to accommodate his thick girth, making you think it might tear open. Jaeyoon is driving his cock in and out of you so rapidly you can feel you juices leaking out of your pussy, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

" Jae. I'm gonna- I'm close " You warn him, wanting to cum undone together.

" Yeah baby me too, fucking scream my name for me princess. Please I need you to. Scream princess! " Rubbing your clit, he freezes at sensation of your walls closing around his dick just as tightly as your legs close around his hips. Screaming his name out so loudly, your body jerks and squirms shamelessly as you cum on his cock, squeezing his till he's dumbfolded above you and helplessly cums in the condom.

Falling on top of you gently, he catches his breath, chest heaving heavily as you slowly unclench your legs and pussy, also catching your breath, enjoying your post orgasm euphoria. Whimpering when he pulls out, your body convulses around air, still not over your high. Blinking your eyes, you close them slowly, feeling tired out due to the mind blowing orgasm you just had.

Feeling a damp cloth on your sore folds, you open you eyes unwillingly, looking at your 'boyfriend' who's cleaning you up. And who has already worn sweats. Going back to the bathroom, he throws the towel in the laundry basket, returning to the room and handing you one of his shirts and clean boxers. Shyly you put on the clothes given to you.

" Oh don't go all shy on my now when you were just screaming my name a few minutes ago. " He says laughing. Blushing you wait till he comes to sit behind you, laptop in one hand.

" Wait what about the party? " You ask, wondering why he's switching on his laptop.

" Eh. It's just another party. And I have you here now. You're all the party I'll ever need. " Pulling you close by your waist, he makes you sit between his legs, covering your legs with his comforter. Throwing a pillow on top of the comforter, he places the laptop on it, playing a newly released movie. Nuzzling into your neck, he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your frame as you both started your first binge session.

#sf9 #jaeyoon #sf9 smut #sf9 x reader #sf9 x reader smut #sf9 jaeyoon #sf9 jaeyoon smut #lee jaeyoon #lee jaeyoon smut #jaeyoon smut #jaeyoon x reader #jaeyoon x reader smut #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #sf9 scenarios #kpop smut #jaeyoon scenario

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Title: Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Synopsis: request, “Please I love that troupe where Shigaraki gets obsessed with a twitch stream and deluded himself into believing they’re together until he finally takes her home 🥰”

notes: yandere, kidnapping mention, creeper

Shigaraki glances down at the notification on his phone and his chest suddenly feels tight, anxiety blooming across his skin which makes him want to scratch, scratch, scratch. Your Twitch is live again--fuck, he can’t miss it. He rapidly presses the save button on his Switch, impatient to devote his entire attention to his phone screen--to you.

But fuck, do you make it hard on him lately. You stream so much more now that you’ve gotten followers, gotten popular; donations have become a regular feature rather than something surprising, but those other guys, the ones who flash big donations and write insipid comments, aren’t really fans of yours. Not like he is. He’s been watching and donating and praising you since you were a nobody, a nothing streamer with barely 10 viewers per stream.

That was back when you used to just play games with your cheap little pink earbuds and your messy room behind you. When you used to feel more real, used to express yourself more openly.

You stumbled over words and reacted naturally, which meant you were boring--or you would be boring, to someone that didn’t know you like he did. Sometimes the small circle of viewers would dwindle down to just Shigaraki and you’d talk to him, only him, replying to his chat messages with earnest honesty. Smiles. Jokes. It was so goddamn cute. He always donated one last time before signing off for the night and you would curl your fingers in a heart and cheerfully bid him good night.

But now that you’re getting big, you’re more polished, more presentable, more popular. And less… like you, he thinks. You cleared out some little room just for your gaming streams and you have a nice headset now, a background that he can tell you carefully set up to create just the right vibe. You don’t have time for one-on-one convos with your viewers, because your streams never dwindle down, never fizzle out until you’re left awkwardly signing off.

They’re full-fledged productions, now, whether you’re gaming or doing a Q&A or--these have become one of his favorites--doing a cute yet clearly rehearsed “sleepy morning” stream in your pajamas, picture-perfect coffee in your hand, where you muse about life and love and strawberry pancakes.

It’s cute, he admits, but it’s also too rehearsed. He misses the real you, the real personality that you used to let shine through when hardly anybody was watching. You would only show the real you for him, but now that he’s just one amongst a crowd, you keep yourself protected. He understands. You have an image to maintain, after all.

It’s even changed your gaming habits. Now when you game, you react so dramatically, bordering on ridiculous. You would never scream at a horror game before--sure, you might cringe, or admit that your heart is pounding like a hammer, but you weren’t cartoonish. But it’s what those losers watching want--they want you to open your mouth so big when something scary happens in a game so they can screencap it and imagine you’re opening your mouth to do something… else. They want you to scream girlishly at jump scares or dramatically fawn over cute guy characters. And of course, they want you to react when they donate--they want to hear those sweet little words: “Thank you sooo much, you’re my number one fan!”

It’s your new little catch phrase, something you’ve integrated into every stream now. It’s even in your intro--“Hello, all my number one fans!” It’s an in-joke now between your followers. All part of your brand.

Shigaraki knows you don’t mean to hurt him by calling other guys your number one fan. But it does. But it’s okay. He doesn’t hold it against you. He knows that you don’t really mean it, when you’re saying it to them; he’s smart, he can tell the difference in how you react to his donations versus the donations from the absolute shitheads who watch your streams.

You mean it when you call him your number one fan. It’s the only way he can get you to say his name, now that you’re too busy to really respond properly to the chat. And it’s fine, really, nothing to get too upset over. Because when you finally meet in person, he’ll explain that he’s the only number one fan that you’ll ever need.

He jumps into the stream, annoyed at having missed the beginning, but what he sees on the screen instantly melts away any emotion other than pure adoration and obsession. You’re very… pink today. A pink oversized sweater and pink cat headphones and even glossy pink lipstick that makes your mouth look like candy.

None of the freaks watching the stream know this, but Shigaraki is the reason why you feel comfortable wearing pink. He remembers one of your early streams, where you wondered out loud if it was cliche to be a girl gamer who likes pink; he’d told you that it was fine, and you’d thanked him. Who knows, without his sage advice, you might be wearing clothing you didn’t like. Wouldn’t that be a shame? He makes a mental note to remind you to thank him, somewhere down the line. Maybe when you were out on a date and wearing a short pink skirt and urging him to take a sip of your vanilla-cherry milkshake, letting him put his lips right on your straw.

A date… the thought makes him feel tight all over. Would you date him? I mean, you were practically dating already, truth be told. It just needed to be formalized. He’d spent so much money on you, and in the early days he knew exactly what his donations bought because you’d happily chatter on about getting a new game or perfume or stack of light novels because of his generosity. Of course, you didn’t talk as much as you used to--well, practically never, except when he donated--but that couldn’t be helped. You were stretched thin, being pulled in directions by these so-called-fans who watched your streams but didn’t give a fuck about the real you underneath. The real you that Shigaraki knows all too well.

Would you date him? No, more than that--did you love him? The way he loves you? The thought of the real you, the one who didn’t bite her lip oh-so-obviously in a bid to look adorable, the one who didn’t mind eating messy lunches while she gamed, the one who always always made sure to wish Shigaraki good night, makes him want to find out.

He rarely participates in the chat nowadays. There’s no point, when you rarely respond to anything other than answers to questions you ask, and even then you cherry pick from the countless replies that pop up in seconds. Donating is the best way to catch your eye, to hear those sweet words from your lips that you only mean when he donates.

But something makes him want to try, today. Maybe it’s all his nostalgia for your early days, the early connection you made that is still going strong. Maybe it’s the allure of the glossy pink lipstick smeared across your lips, making him think about how you might taste of cherries or strawberries or pure sugar.

Whatever it is, it’s pulling his fingers towards the chat, and before he knows it, he’s rapidly typed and hit enter. The second he does he begins to scratch furiously at his neck and he can feel the blood even as his message is quickly dominated by other messages in the chat, inane bullshit.

Tomura001: sry for the sudden question but I need to ask you something personal do you love me?

As a quick thought, he makes a donation, just to ease the nervousness that was flooding through him with every passing millisecond.

He hardly blinks as he stares intently at you, sitting in your chair with your pink lips and pink headphone and soft skin and--you glance over, where he knows you keep a larger screen to see the chat.

And suddenly, you’re speaking.

“Awww,” you say, your voice sweet and flattered, even. “Tomura! Of course I love you! You’re my number one fan!”

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You do love him. I mean, he knew this already; it’s the little things, like how you still have the light novels you bought with his money on your bookshelf and you thank him for his donations like you mean it and you feel confident enough to wear pink, all thanks to him. But he’s never heard it from your mouth before. From your lips. Soft and pink and inviting.

You love him.

He sets the phone down, a rare occurrence when he’s glued to your streams. But the emotions rushing through him are so strong that he’s worried it will slip out of his fingers and fall, crack on the floor.

He loves you. You love him. You belong to him. So why are you wasting your fucking time streaming to a bunch of worthless losers who don’t care about you? He can buy you the things you want, the things you like. He can clear out some space in his room so you can game together. And he knows girls like things clean, so he’ll even throw out the used soda cans and food wrappers before he brings you home. You’ll appreciate that, just like you appreciated his donations and late-night practically empty stream chats. You’ll be happy with him. And he can see you and hear you and touch you in a way that he’s been dreaming about (and you’ve been dreaming about, he knows) for ages.

All he has to do is find your address--easy enough--and you’ll be living it up with him before you know it.

He chews on his lip and picks up his phone. You’ve moved on--you had to, didn’t you, to keep those viewers donating--but he can tell by the way your lips are pursued that you’re thinking about him.

Your number one fan.

#yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere #yandere x reader #shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes #I am def. doing part 2 of this eventually

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wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes mob au #bucky barnes x mobboss!reader #mob au #marvel #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #even tho bucky wants her to give up control we all know he prob likes being yelled atin italian #and that the real reason he wants to take you out

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quickspinner · 3 years ago

Text

Neighborly

I had a bad case of writers block and rabbit brain trying to work on my wips yesterday, so I went and dug through my prompt lists, sat down with the sprint timer, and scrawled out this little bit of nonsense. I'm not sure about the final result but it broke the block, and I figured I might as well share it, so I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T

Marinette's been crushing on her cute neighbor for weeks, but she's never gotten the courage to speak more than a few flustered words to him. Now it might be too late--he's at her door begging for the use of her shower to get ready for his big date.

Marinette stared at the man standing at her door.

“I’m sorry?” she said faintly, and the man smiled at her. That didn’t help the situation at all, as it made her knees wobbly.

“Weird ask, I know,” he said, ruffling a hand through his blue-tinted hair. “It’s just that I’m supposed to have a date tonight and my shower’s been out for two days. Maintenance has quit answering my calls and I’m getting desperate. I really like this girl and I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, voice still weak, and then she plastered a plastic smile on her face. “O-of course you can! What are neighbors for, right? Um—”

“Luka,” he supplied, still smiling. Marinette already knew that, of course. She knew an embarrassing amount of information about this man, considering they had only spoken in passing. The first time, he’d caught her when her shoe had broken in the hallway, and she’d pitched straight into him somehow managing to stop her fall and haul her back upright against him with only one strong arm. He hadn’t even lost the groceries he’d been carrying in the other. He’d smiled at her and told her to be careful with that soft velvet voice and she’d looked up into blue eyes that seemed far too gentle for his handsome, angular face and—

Marinette suddenly realized it was her turn to talk and that she was taking too long. “Um M-Marinette, I’m. I’m Marinette,” she stammered.

“Nice to finally officially meet you Marinette,” Luka said easily, as if she wasn’t the most awkward person he’d ever spoken to, as if she hadn’t run away from him after a few awkward words every time they’d bumped into each other—literally or otherwise. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll pop back over and grab my things, and be back in a few minutes?”

“Oh, um. Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” she babbled, and he turned away, raising a hand slightly.

“Great, I’ll be back in a few then.”

Marinette shut the door numbly, and then walked over to her couch and buried her face in a pillow. She screamed, kicking her feet, and then tossed the pillow away, moaning as she dragged her hands down her face.

It wasn’t enough that the super hot musician with gorgeous shoulders and dreamy eyes was coming over to use her shower. He had to need her shower because he had a date . Marinette wanted to be his date! She’d been half-stalking him trying to work up the courage—well. Not really stalking him, just...observing. She just noticed things, that was all, like how he had a smile and a question for everybody, the way he fed the stray cats that lived behind the building, and always held open doors no matter who was behind him, and how hard his chest was beneath the baggy layers he wore, and—oh, that chest was going to be in her bathroom and—her bathroom!

Marinette’s eyes flew wide and she nearly tripped over her own feet, flinging herself off the couch, running to the bathroom to grab anything too girly or potentially embarrassing and shove it under the sink. Fortunately her bathroom wasn’t dirty (she wasn’t an animal after all), just cluttered, and she frantically grabbed the underthings she’d draped over the shower rod to dry and ran them to her room, shoving them frantically under her pillow before going back to make absolutely sure she hadn’t missed any or left anything embarrassing. She put a clean towel on the rack and threw the dirty one over her arm and triple-checked to make sure there was no hair in the shower drain. She heard the knock on the door and jerked up, banging her head on the faucet of the tub. She yelped, dizzy with the pain for a moment.

“Marinette?” Luka called, as she tried to extract herself from the bathtub with one hand clutched to her scalp. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her; that hurt.

“Are you all right?” Luka asked, and Marinette whirled around wide-eyed to find him standing in the bathroom doorway. “I heard you yell and I let myself in, I hope that’s okay. Did you hurt yourself? Are you bleeding?” He dropped the backpack slung over his shoulder onto the floor and came over to her, gently tugging her hand away from her head.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette gritted. “I was just...trying to clean up a bit, and…” She gestured at the faucet and Luka winced in sympathy.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he parted her hair with gentle fingers. He was so nice, Marinette mourned. Although...he did smell like he needed that shower. She held her breath and tried not to make a face. “It looks okay,” he said, stepping back away from her. “You didn’t have to clean for me.”

Marinette gave an embarrassed shrug. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked dryly, and blushed when Luka laughed.

“Probably,” he conceded with a grin. “Thanks. I really didn’t mean to put you to inconvenience.”

“It’s no big deal,” Marinette said, finally mustering a smile. “Besides, how could I leave you in the lurch? Big date and all. I don’t need any more bad karma on my dating life.”

Luka’s eyebrows rose, and Marinette flushed, cursing her stupid mouth that never shut up when it should. “So I’ll, um—” she gestured behind Luka to the door, “get out of here, so you can. You know.”

“Oh, sorry.” Luka moved out of her way, pressing himself against the sink, and Marinette squeezed past him and out of the door. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“This girl must be something special,” Marinette smiled as she backed into the small hallway. “For you to go to all this trouble instead of rescheduling.”

“She is,” Luka grinned. “She’s amazing. I think so, anyway. I don’t know her very well yet, but she’s awfully sweet and super cute.” The grin on his face turned a little goofy. “I’ve been smitten since I met her, honestly.”

“Oh,” Marinette kept her smile in place, trying to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach. “Oh, that’s really sweet. Um, well I don’t want to make you late, so I’ll just...music! I’ll go turn on some music.” That way she wouldn’t hear the incredibly cute soon-to-be-naked boy in her bathroom. “Um, take your time, let me know if you need anything.”

Luka’s grin widened a little. “Thanks Marinette.” He shut the door, and Marinette marched herself back to the living room to scream into another pillow.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of nervous fumbling, she got her music player running. Jagged Stone should be enough, right? Loud enough to cover—she heard the curtain rings slide across the rod. The shower started running and Luka’s deep sigh of relief. Poor guy , she thought, he must have been miserable . She put the music player on and sat for a moment, chewing her thumbnail nervously.

After a few minutes she sat up straighter, listening. Was that—over the sound of the running water and Jagged Stone wailing through her sound system, she heard another voice. Luka was...singing? He was singing along with the song that was playing. Marinette giggled, and moved to the other end of the couch, listening. He had a nice voice, she thought wistfully. She’d seen him with a guitar on his back in the halls. She wondered if some of the music she occasionally heard through his door in the hall was music he made, rather than the radio as she’d assumed.

She flopped on the arm of the couch and groaned. He was so cool, and she was such a disaster. She would have never been brave enough to ask to use a stranger’s shower, no matter how miserable and disgusting she was.

Poor guy , she thought again. He must have been really desperate.

She sat up, and picked up her phone, looking at it in her hands. Maybe she could...well, it might be stupid but it couldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

Marinette dialed the building maintenance number. “Hi Pierre,” she chirped brightly when the grumpy old technician picked up the phone. “It’s Marinette in 34 B? How are you doing?

“Miss Marinette!” The gruff tone softened. “I’m doing well, doing well. Tickets lined up like crazy, though. Everything seems to be breaking at once these days.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marinette said, putting on a tone of great sympathy. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother you then—”

“Now, now, none of that. What can I do for you?”

“It’s not actually me,” Marinette said, “It’s my neighbor across the hall, Luka? His shower’s been out for a while now and he came over tonight to see if he could use mine—”

“What?” barked old Pierre, and Marinette grinned to herself. “That punk with the piercings? You shouldn’t be letting him traipse through your apartment Miss Marinette. Guys like that always try to take advantage.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” Marinette said innocently. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that. I was calling to see when his shower might be fixed, but if you’re so busy, maybe I should just give him my spare key so he can—”

“No, no,” Pierre said quickly. “I’ve got his ticket right here, see, he was next on the list. His shower will be fixed tomorrow, so don’t be making any foolish offers Miss Marinette. You’re too nice for your own good, you know.”

“Oh, it never hurts to be nice, Pierre,” Marinette giggled. “I’m planning on making some chocolate chip scones tomorrow to take to a friend, so if you do come to fix Luka’s shower, stop on by, I’ll save a few of them for you.”

“Well, I’ll stop by if I have time,” Pierre said gruffly. “Not that sweets are much to a man my age, but if you made them…”

“Great, I hope I’ll see you!” Marinette giggled. “Thanks so much Pierre, you’re an angel.” She hung up, grinning to herself.

“I can’t believe it. You’re magic.”

Marinette jumped half out of her skin and whirled around. Luka grinned at her sheepishly, but she hardly noticed, because while he was wearing pants—a different, more fitted pair than what he’d had on when he arrived—his torso was bare, and her fluffy pink towel hung around his shoulders, catching only most of the drips falling from his blue hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ask if you had a hair dryer I can borrow. I forgot to grab mine.”

“Oh, um, sure,” Marinette said, jumping up. “I’ll just...I’ll get it, if that’s okay.” She blushed, thinking of all the things she had shoved in the cabinet before he came.

“Sure.” Luka moved back out of her way, and she shimmied past him into the bathroom. She blinked a moment at the amount of paraphernalia spread on her counter. She’d never thought guys used that much product, but she shook herself and bent over to dig in the cabinet, trying to block it with her body so Luka couldn’t see inside. It took some effort to find the hair dryer, which had been shoved against the back of the cabinet in her frenzied tidying, but by some miracle she extracted it without dumping all of the piled up junk onto the floor. Sighing in relief, she straightened and turned. “Got it!”

Luka was looking at the ceiling. His darkly tanned skin was flushed from the hot shower and the line of his neck made her swallow. “Luka?” she repeated, trying not to squeak.

His dropped his gaze back to her, and she froze under the intensity in that look for a moment. Then he blinked and smiled, softening, and Marinette felt she could move again. She offered him the hair dryer and he took it. “Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for getting Pierre’s ass in gear. He hates me, so I figured it’d be a week at least before I could get him to come out.”

“Oh, that.” Marinette shrugged, and grinned mischievously. “I have a lot of experience dealing with grouchy old men.” She winked, and to her mild surprise, the color in Luka’s cheeks deepened. He cleared his throat.

“Well, thanks for making the effort, I really appreciate it.”

“Why does he hate you?” Marinette frowned, as Luka’s words caught up to her.

Luka nodded vaguely in the direction of the back of the building. “We got into it over me feeding the strays. He was nattering on about disease and just breeding more and blah, blah, blah.” Luka rolled his eyes. “If he’d actually listen for five minutes...anyway, I have a friend, the blond that was with me that one time, you remember? He runs a trap-and-release program for feral cats, gets them vaccinated and fixed and all that and then lets them back out into their home territory. The cats behind our building are probably as safe as your average indoor cat, in terms of disease.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, awed. “That’s really cool.”

Luka grinned. “He’s pretty passionate about it. He did all the real work, trapping and transport and all that. I just make sure they have a good meal. May I?” He gestured towards the sink, and Marinette jumped.

“Oh, of course, please. I’m sorry, I’m going to make you late with all this chattering—” Marinette babbled as she and Luka did a slightly awkward dance to let him in and her out of the bathroom. He smelled much better now, she noticed giddily as they had to squeeze together. She only barely managed not to squeal when he took her arm lightly to guide her around him.

“By the way,” he called once she was out, and she glanced back to see him unscrewing the lid on one of the sink jars. “Do you have any suggestions for good places to eat close by?” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I’m always looking to try new things.”

“U-um—” Finding it hard to think while staring at his bare back, Marinette turned away and tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything,” Luka replied, running fingers coated in some kind of gel through his hair. “I like all kinds of things.”

“What does she like?”

“I don’t know yet,” Luka admitted.

Marinette considered. “Well, my favorite is this Italian place about two blocks down, but Italian is chancy on a first date. Messy, you know. She might not be comfortable.” Marinette raised her voice as Luka turned on the hair dryer. “There’s an Indian place that’s a little farther away, and there’s a really cute little patisserie right next to it, that could be romantic. Oh, and there’s a park right there, if you feel like a nighttime stroll.” She frowned. “You didn’t already figure this stuff out?”

“I’m not really a planner,” Luka laughed, his deep voice carrying easily even over the noise of the dryer. “I had some ideas, but sometimes the universe throws you an Indian place and a cute patisserie, with a moonlight stroll in the bargain.” He winked at Marinette. “It pays to keep an open mind.”

Marinette started to smile, and then remembered she was helping him plan a date with someone else, and turned away again. “Okay, well, you’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said quickly as she went down the hallway. Her eyes were stinging and she took a deep breath as she blinked. Stupid , she scolded herself. She didn’t even know him, because just like always she’d never found the guts to actually talk to him, besides a hello and good night! and one very rushed um, cat food was on sale and I noticed it was the brand you buy so...here! SEEYOULATERBYE! He was her neighbor and she hadn’t even asked his name before today, only seen it on the mail that had been misdelivered to her box instead of his. All she had was little stolen scraps, because she hadn’t been brave enough to ask for more.

Ugh she was such a loser, it was no wonder Luka had never even—well, he had said a word to her, actually. Words like Are you all right? and Can I help you with that? and Wow, thanks, that’s so cool of you . Because he was sweet and nice as well as good looking, and if she’d had any guts at all maybe she could have—

“Marinette?”

She whirled, and Luka was standing there, his bag at his feet, closing the last two buttons of a black dress shirt. “Are you all right?” he asked as he began rolling the sleeves up to bare his forearms. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“What? No, of course not.” Marinette clamped her teeth down on her tongue before she could blurt something like I have shirtless men in my home all the time . Luka was looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have gone back to my place to finish up, I wasn’t—I mean I didn’t mean to impose or anything.”

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then gave him a genuine smile. “You didn’t. Really, Luka, I wasn’t bothered. I just, um. I got emotional about something for a moment there, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Luka nodded. “Something about bad dating karma?” he guessed, voice so gentle it made her ache.

“More or less.” Marinette tried to smile.

“Well,” Luka sighed, finishing the second sleeve. “Honestly I haven’t been too lucky in that department myself. I was hoping tonight would change that, but...maybe...maybe it isn’t the best time after all.”

“What?” Marinette cried, staring at him. “Why? Luka, you seemed like you liked this girl so much, and you’re all dressed up.” She stepped to him and adjusted the set of his collar without thinking. “You look so good, it’ll be great. She won’t be able to resist you. Believe me, I know it’s scary to put yourself out there, but won’t you regret it if you don’t?” I do .

Luka caught her wrists gently. “Yeah, I really think I would.” He grinned. “Now I just need to ask her.”

Marinette blinked up at him. “You didn’t ask her?” she asked, bewildered. “Isn’t it going to be kind of short notice?” She frowned. “You said you had a date tonight.”

Luka dipped his head in a kinda-sorta motion. “I said I was supposed to have a date tonight,” he chuckled. “And I would have—or at least I hope so—if I’d asked you out two days ago when I planned. But then I got home from work and of course I was sweaty and gross and then my shower wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t talk to you while I was disgusting. Not when you’re always so pretty and neat and put together.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed.

“And then Pierre didn’t show and he didn’t show and he didn’t show,” Luka rolled his eyes. “And if I didn’t ask you out today, I’d owe my buddy that runs the cat rescue my favorite signed Jagged Stone album. He’s been bugging me about asking you out for like a month.” He grinned. “Ever since you brought me the cat food? He could see how much I liked you and he decided then and there we were meant to be, and somehow I let him talk me into this stupid—bet or dare or whatever, that if I didn’t man up by today...well. I would’ve asked you anyway one way or another.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she was sure her face must be on fire.

“So, now that I’m presentable,” Luka grinned slowly. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight? I heard about this really good Indian place. Maybe afterwards we could grab dessert and take a walk in the park? I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Marinette gasped, and then her lips pursed into a pout. Luka laughed. “You’re mean,” she told him, kicking his shin lightly.

Luka’s shoulders hunched a little, and he looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry for teasing.” He blushed. “I guess I was nerving myself up a bit, telling you how much I liked you without you knowing, but I didn’t think about how it would come across. I didn’t mean to upset you. No pressure, okay?” He slid his hands from her wrists to her hands and lowered them between them. “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings. Just, like you said. I’d regret it if I didn’t try.”

“But—” Marinette let go of his hands as her own flew to her hair. “I’m not dressed for a date!”

Luka chuckled. “You look gorgeous to me. But I can wait if you want to change.”

Marinette reddened. “I—w-well, I mean...I mean I guess we could—” Luka laid a finger on her lips.

“Breathe,” he told her, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

That didn’t help her efforts to calm down, but she did manage to breathe, despite the very distracting slide of his finger as it left her lips. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you better be prepared because I’m going all out for our second date.”

Luka’s grin went wide and bright and more than a little silly. “I can’t wait.”

ETA: Okay, yes, I know this was a bit mean for Marinette. I did actually really waffle about it while I was writing it and I almost scrapped it a couple times, but the whole point of the timer is to keep me on task and stop the second guessing and overthinking that was sabotaging me, so I ran with it. I did ultimately decide to keep it because really, they haven't had a chance to really talk or anything here, and so Luka doesn't really know that Marinette's into him. He's aware there's some attraction between them, but he doesn't know how hard she's crushing. So really, he's just a bit insecure himself and psyching himself up a bit for The Moment. So I justify it to myself anyway. As soon as he's able to actually take in her mood he's aware he's messed up. If you can't forgive him, that's okay. Mari will get him back later.

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #neighborly #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #pro lukamari

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

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