#also I just dried my hands four times after washing them because they weren’t dry enough after the first two times

[pirateshavefeelingstoo]

Feeling an overwhelming lack of control and also the urge to engage in risky behaviors 😝😝

[221bshrlocked]

Fever in my Eyes

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 8.5K (yeesh)

Warnings: Smut and Angst, my two faves. Blindfold. Breeding Kink!!! Things are consensual from both sides but since this is a sex pollen fic, some of you might consider it as non/con so please proceed with caution.

Summary: Felucia was not an ideal planet to track a quarry on and you find yourself in a sticky situation when you lose sight of the Mandalorian for a moment. An unexpected standoff between Mando and the bounty leads to you escaping back to the Razor Crest, unaware of the pollen which seeped into your nostrils and past your skin. What will the bounty hunter do once he realizes what you’re asking of him? And more importantly, is it worth risking whatever relationship he has with you?

A/N: As always, I am shit with summaries. It’s a sex pollen fic yall. I apologize if my smut isn’t as good as it used to be, I am trying. Also, please please please let me know how I did in the comments. This is only my second ever Star Wars fic and I was very reluctant to post it but Pedro Pascal made me do it because I cannot stop thinking of the man so here it is. Seriously, tell me how I did and what I can do to better my writing. There will be more Din Djarin fics to come :) Enjoy. And this is not beta’d!

This was not an ideal situation, but it never was. At least not ever since you took the ‘glorified babysitter’ position offered so graciously to you months ago. A short snort made its way past your lips as you walked through the greenery and recalled how you came into caring for the child currently biting and playing with your necklace. You looked down and smiled at him, not bothering to stop him from chewing down on the colorful jewels because you knew for a fact that if Mando heard you criticizing him over something so trivial, he might scold him and make him pout. Maker, the little womp rat made it so hard to be angry with him, let alone attempt to teach him some proper manners. 

So busy playing with the Child, you didn’t notice when the bounty hunter suddenly came to a halt ahead of you. You walked right into his back and stumbled backwards, apologizing immediately when he turned around and tilted his visor to the side. You’ve grown to learn what each tild meant and at the moment, he was definitely a tad bit annoyed with you. 

“S-sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, you waited until he turned around before narrowing your eyes at the kid currently giggling at your mistake. It was amazing how often he did that, almost as if he knew he was purposely getting you in trouble for his own entertainment. 

“So you never actually told me why this bounty was so important,” your eyes searched your surroundings and marveled at the lush reaching all the way to the top of the strange trees, barely noticing the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed before continuing to walk towards the edge of the forest. If there even was an edge to this jungle. Maker, this was such a weird planet, it smelled weird, it was too hot and too wet, and you sensed there was something strange with all the exotic plants beneath your feet.

When he didn’t respond, you slowly put the Child down and reached inside your satchel for a drink. As soon as the kid noticed the satchel, he waddled back to you and pulled on your cloak until you brought out his favorite blue biscuits. 

“All I’m saying is, this bounty is weird. Who hides all the way out here anyways? I mean I have never heard of this place-”

“You’ve said that about the last four quarries.” You didn’t expect him to respond and eyed him cautiously, looking between him and the kid who continued to eat his snacks and understood absolutely nothing of what you were saying. A shiver ran down your spine when you noticed the way he put the tracking fob back in his pocket before slowly reaching for the blaster pistol. Reflexes instantly kicking in, you hurried to the Child and snatched him off the ground, shushing his little coos and preparing for the worst case scenario which was always, somehow, what transpired.

Silence filled the humid air and you tried to read the bounty hunter’s body language, knowing very well he was not one to say anything unless it was perhaps a little too late for you. His visor dragged through the dried prints on the grass and before you knew it, he was taking off towards the edge of the purple and pink plants. As you followed him, you felt your throat dry much quicker than usual. Thinking it was just the extreme weather of Felucia, you decided it was best to slow down and wait until the Mandalorian caught the bounty before following his path. He’d even told you once to not follow him if you ever saw him running off because that usually meant he was close to the quarry and wouldn’t need your aid. It was a little insulting in the beginning but you were caught during a shoot-out one too many times and understood he was only trying to look out for you and the kid. 

But not even a full minute passed before you heard a sudden blast sound off from the trees above you and before you could figure out what was happening, a heavy weight landed on top of you, and you watched in horror as the kid flew out of your hand into a nearby puddle. 

Trying your hardest to grab the blaster on your hip, you cried out in pain when you felt talons digging into your arms and twist them back. You didn’t know what else to do, eyes scanning the trees in hopes of finding the Mandalorian rushing towards you. But when you realized he was nowhere around, you looked at the kid and prayed he was alright. When you saw his large eyes blinking a few times before struggling to sit up, you knew there was only one outcome. 

“Make a sound, and I will feast on your organs.” The stench of the creature filled your nostrils and you sobbed quietly at the implications behind his words. Taking one last look at the kid, you took a deep breath and pushed off the ground as hard as you can.

“MANDO!” As soon as you screamed his name, you felt three talons break the skin of your shoulder blades and drag all the way down to your lower back. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks and hated how distressed the Child looked. Almost on queue, he was standing up and trying to waddle your way, refusing to listen to your little objections as you tried to tell him to run the opposite direction. 

Before you could dwell on the many different ways you were about to die, you heard a large blast sound through the forest, throwing the creature off of you against one of the trees with a loud cracking noise. You looked up just in time to see the familiar glint of beskar coming closer through the greenery and as you tried to stand up, you felt the same weight behind you again, twisting the talons into your hair and pulling you to your feet. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you felt the edge of the hunting knife against your throat. Eyes unable to focus on the figures in front of you, you blinked a few times and realized there were too many sensations hitting you. But the one seemingly outdoing all the others was the growing wet patch on your back and you soon felt sharp pain growing against your skin where the strange liquid rolled down your skin. You weren’t sure if it was blood or if it was drool from the thing behind you and a part of you didn’t care because what difference would it make. 

“Should have known you were the only crazy one to come here...come after me.” A slithering whisper made its way past your ears and your knees buckled as you started to feel faint. But then the creature held you up roughly and pressed the knife harder against your throat, warning you against falling to the ground.

“Your problem is with me T'doshok. Let her go.” You vaguely saw the Child walk towards his father, relief washing over you when you knew he was safe once more. At some point, you’ve come to care more for him than for yourself and you were never sure if it was because he was so precious or because of how important he was to the Mandalorian. 

“Aren’t we past formalities Mando? At least do me the honor of saying my name...old friend.” 

Your gaze immediately shifted from the kid to the beskar-clad man standing in front of him. So they knew each other? Why didn’t he tell you? Did he still not trust you to know such matters until now?

“ Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh.” You heard the Mandalorian growl through the visor and even though you didn’t understand what he said, you knew it was anything but friendly. Wait, that meant the T'doshok behind you understood Manod’a. 

A sob escaped your throat when you felt the bounty laugh behind you at the warning. 

“You can’t possibly mean that Mando.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a hint of surprise etched in the voice growling in your ear.

“Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas...believe me.” The conscious part of your brain wondered why he continued to speak in Mando’a. He knew you didn’t understand much of it…

The silence was almost deafening and you weren’t sure what was happening until your boss stepped forward and tilted his helmet to the side,

“Gedet'ye.” The modulated voice sounded strange to your ears. He was only ever this softly-spoken with the Child.

“Well, this is unexpected. In that case-” You didn’t have time to react, watching as the world twirled around you before you fell among the purple and pink flowers you were so impressed by earlier. A strange scent hit your nostrils but you couldn’t dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Willing yourself to stand up, you pushed off the ground as soon as you saw the kid waddling towards you. As soon as he tried to walk behind you, you knew what he was trying to do and picked him up before he could do anything.

“No little guy...you- I can’t...I need to make sure you’re okay.” You could faintly hear the sound of blasters going off for a few moments and by the time you managed to take the gun out of your holster, you saw the Mandalorian standing above an unconscious reptilian creature. So that’s what a T'doshok is…

Slowly making your way towards them, you blinked away the tears and wiped your eyes to try and clear your sight. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” You shivered at the tone Mando was using with you. Dank Ferrik, you must have hit your head pretty hard if you thought the Mandalorian was worried about anyone but the green little thing in your arms.

“I- yes. I’ll be f-fine. Just-” You hadn’t meant to react the way you have but as soon as you felt his gloved hand touch your neck, you jerked away from him and held out your hand to stop him from coming any closer to you. Mando was shocked at your reaction and was glad to have something to hide behind. A few seconds passed in silence and you were still staring at him with wide open eyes and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were afraid of him. It occurred to him that it wasn’t shock that beat at his heart but a deep and twisting sense of hurt. And when he scanned your body language, he could tell you were trembling in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was to give you another reason to fear him.

“Can you walk back to the-”

“Yes. I’ll- fu...I’ll take the kid.” Before he could say anything else, you were clutching the Child closer to your chest and walking back to the Razor Crest. You searched your mind to try and understand why you reacted the way you have to his touch but couldn’t find anything to explain the sharp pain striking through your insides. It was too much too quickly. Even though it wasn’t his skin, you felt neurons firing simultaneously as soon as he trailed his fingers down your neck. You hoped to the gods he wasn’t offended by your reaction because the last thing you needed was to drive him further away from you.

Barely making it back to the ship, you managed to go up the ladder and put the Child back in his crib in the cockpit before shutting it and locking the door behind you. Scrambling inside your mind for a moment, you turned to the ramp and walked towards the hatch before pushing in the code until it sealed shut. 

In an instant, everything touching your skin was too rough and incredibly heavy. Before you could think twice about it, you were violently stripping out of your clothes, throwing them to the ground on your way to the refresher. As soon as you walked into the small room, you turned on the cold water and sighed heavily as it beat down on your heated skin. 

“Not enough…” Crying to the empty room, you made sure the hot water wasn’t on before leaning back against the cool tiles of the walls. But no sooner than that were you hissing and pushing off of the wall. You completely forgot about the open gashes on your back and the shooting pain was almost instantaneous when you remembered just how large the wound was.

As you dwelled on the last hour or so, you felt your legs give out on you and before you knew it, you were sliding down to the floor. Eyes shutting slowly, you fell to the side and let the cold water run down your form. And as hard as you tried to stay awake, you couldn’t help your mind’s request as it begged to rest. You let sleep wash over you, the last sound ringing in your ear was Mando’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

Back outside, the bounty hunter was fuming with anger, not caring about how oddly violent he became with the quarry. He was never one to beat an unconscious being but something took over him when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. As he pushed his way through the forest, he thought back to the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. And he hated himself for the way his body reacted to your fragile body.

“Ni’duraa.” He whispered to himself when he saw the Crest come into view, continuing to pull the T'doshok until he walked up the ramp and onto the ship. It was awfully quiet but he decided to freeze the reptile before he walked around to look for you. Minutes later, he was ascending the ladder to the cockpit, unlocking it and reaching for the crib on his pilot chair. When he opened it and saw the kid cooing in his sleep, he shut it once more and left to look for you. It was strange how he couldn’t hear a single sound. You were normally talkative after a mission, and as he placed his weapons back on the wall, he noticed your clothes lying haphazardly on the ground. Mando sighed heavily as he picked them up, flushing violently when he saw the last two items leading into the refresher. Strange, you were never one to throw things around.

Not wanting to bother you anymore, he placed the clothes on your cot and ascended to the cockpit once more, wanting to leave Felucia as quickly as possible because he knew how the locals became when uninvited guests stayed for too long. As they left the sector, the Mandalorian couldn’t help but question why you were still in the refresher. You’d arrived long before him and it took him a while to navigate through the jungle because of how heavy the bounty was. 

Putting the ship on auto-pilot, he made his way to the refresher but not before noticing a strange scent fill his nostrils. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a bright purple powder covering his gloves and as soon as he brought his hands up to the edge of the visor, he was hit with many different sensations, all of which he could distinctively place back to you. Your honey-scented soap, the orange tea he saw you constantly drinking, the smell of your sweat on a particularly hot day when you tried to fix the ship...

“Fuck…” He swore before wiping his gloves against his cloak and approached the refresher. 

Knocking on the door, he waited a few moments for a response and breathed impatiently when  you didn’t bother to say anything.

“Open up, Cyar'ika.” He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly using such endearing words to call for you and when he was met with more silence, he groaned in annoyance before warning you. “If you don’t open the door now, I will break it.” Normally, you would have clapped back with a snarky comment that would get his blood boiling but he knew something was wrong when you remained quiet. Throwing propriety out the window, he kicked the door open and walked in, eyes searching the small room until they fell on your unconscious form under the water. 

“Maker,” kneeling to the ground, his heart clenched when he saw a viscous, black liquid oozing out of the gash on your back. How did he not notice this when you left? Quickly reaching for the left knob, he swore when he noticed the hot water wasn’t even on and almost broke the other one as he tried to switch it off. Why would you take such a cold shower when you weren’t even on a desert planet? Wiping your hair away from your face, the Mandalorian tried to wake you and began to feel anxiety seep into his clothes along with the water cascading down your body when he realized this was much worse than he thought. He took off his gloves and pushed you onto your back, trying his hardest to avert his gaze from your naked skin as he bent down and carried you out of the refresher. 

Opening his quarters, he laid you on his covers before grabbing the anesthetic above him and turning you on your stomach to care for the wounds. As he sprayed your back, he noticed the way you groaned in your sleep and forced himself to attend to the task at hand. He hoped to the gods there wasn’t any poison in the wound before he grabbed the bacta spray and slowly made his way down the skin of your back. He sighed in relief when he noticed your skin slowly shifting and sealing itself, trying to calm his increasing heart rate when he remembered just how fragile and naked you were beneath him. Some sick part of him was attracted to you even in such a state and he wished more than anything for you to be awake and willing to-

This is not how he pictured seeing you for the first time.

When you started shifting beneath him, he kneeled away from you and covered your legs, continuing to care for the wound on your lower back until it started to close as well. By the time he put all the medication back in its place, you were turning around and moaning in discomfort and Mando realized it was because you were probably still freezing from the cold water. Taking off his cloak, he barely draped it on your sleeping form when you pushed it off and turned on your back. He felt the fabric of his pants tighten around his crotch and looked away from you.

“Please...too- too much. I can’t-” He couldn’t understand what you were trying to say and moved to place the cloak on you again, head instantly turning to your face when you smacked the offensive object away from him and began to trail your fingers down your skin. He hadn’t meant to and before he could stop himself, he was watching as your fingers made their way down to your hips before dipping into the space between your thighs.

Maker be damned, how were you so glistening and flushed?

“M-Mando?” His eyes snapped to your face and watched as you spread your legs until he positioned between them. “Mando I need...you. I need you please, this is- it hurts. I can’t...it hurts so much. Please h-help me.” Your voice was filled with dangerous requests, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants when he saw the way you reached for his thighs and dragged your nails down to his knees. 

“Cyare, you don’t know what you’re asking.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on your face and nowhere else. But with every passing moment, the need to look at where he’d dreamt of feasting on for so many nights outgrew his respect for you. 

“Mando...I want you, n-need you...please, I promise I’ll be good. So so good for you, just- oh maker I-”

The small part of his brain that wasn’t ruled by his pulsing cock finally figured out what was happening and he growled as he pushed off of you and out to your cot. Grabbing your shirt, he turned it around and saw the same purple powder that was on his gloves coloring the whole front of your cloak. He recalled back to what happened when he left you and remembered where the T'doshok pushed you before he attacked him. 

Of course. The pollen from the spore plants.

Which meant that-

“Oh fuck.” The Mandalorian felt his insides churn when he realized what was taking place not ten feet away from him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he knew what could potentially happen to you if your...needs weren't properly met. With reluctance, he made his way back to his sleeping cot and felt his chest tighten when he saw what you were doing.

You were on your side, fingers rubbing furiously at your soaking core and whimpering at the consistent and harsh touches passing through your nerves. But it wasn’t the mess you were making that caught his attention. No, it was the fact that you had his cowl twisted between your thighs and around your back. He watched in awe as you pushed your face into the rough material, taking in deep breaths to try and fill your nostrils with his scent. Taking one step closer to you, his eyes bore into your heated skin and he choked on air when he saw you lick at the hood of the cloak before taking your fingers out of your cunt and replacing them with his cowl. He couldn’t believe his eyes and the thought of wearing it around with your scent sticking to it broke him. 

Mando looked around the ship for a few moments in an attempt to think of what he should do. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he approached your slowly and gasped when he met your eyes and saw the way you were looking at him.

“M-mando! Please...fuck me. I- I need you to...don’t c-care how. I promise I’ll do anything, wh-whatever you want...ple-please.” Chills ran down your spine when you forced yourself to throw the cowl away. Turning around, you laid on your stomach and took a deep breath before raising your lower half off of the covers. As you rested your head on your arm and bit into your wrist, you looked back to the beskar-clad man, silently pleading with him while swaying your ass in the air. 

“Gota'la…” Before the Mandalorian could talk himself out of it, he was kicking his heavy shoes away and making his way closer to you. A part of him screamed that of the two of you, he was the one less affected by the pollen and was technically responsible for whatever transpired next. And he was close to asking you if you were sure you wanted to take this further if it weren’t for the way you reached beneath you and faintly trailed your fingers through your soaking slit. 

“Ad'ika, gar cuyir mesh'la.” He was speaking to himself more than to you and smiled to himself when he noticed your cunt clenching around nothing as soon as his words filled the silence. “Sweet girl, you like it when I speak to you in Mando’a?” You shivered at his tone and found it difficult to respond to him, especially when you could tell he was definitely not looking at you but at the mess you were making on his bed. A loud cry rang through the small room when you felt his hand come down on your backside before squeezing the flushed skin. 

“I asked you a question Cyar'ika.” His deep and modulated voice only made it worse and you found yourself nodding at him before whispering out a low ‘yes.’

“K'olar,” you squealed when you felt Mando twirl your around onto your back before pulling your naked body flush to his still-clothed one. You were about to beg him to just fuck you already when he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth to shush you. You moaned shamelessly around his fingers, whining even louder when you realized you were sucking on his calloused skin and not on the gloves he almost never took off unless he was alone. 

“You’re going to come just like this sweet girl.” Mando manhandled you until you were straddling one of his thighs, growling impatiently when you tried to push yourself away from him. His arm tightened around your waist, pushing you down on the beskar cuisse until you finally understood what he wanted from you.

“C-cold…”

“Be a good girl and drench my armor little one. Let me walk around with the memory of your cunt dripping on me.” His words hit too close to your somewhat aware mind and you chose to dwell on their meaning later. Softly inching your hands onto his shoulders, you fisted your fingers into his shirt to support your weight before dragging yourself against the rugged and cool beskar in between your thighs. As you threw your head back and sighed in pleasure, Mando couldn’t help but squeeze the heated skin of your hip, knowing very well there would soon be fingerprint marks wherever he touched you. 

“That’s it...could smell how much you want me Cyare. Can’t believe you’re in my arms...look at you, using my thighs to get off.” You barely managed to turn your attention to him, lips still enclosed around his fingers and biting down on them the more he shoved them in your mouth.

“Mando I- I need to-” Before you could finish your request, Mando was wrapping the other arm around hips and violently dragging you against his cuisse, looking down to watch as your juices dripped on his beskar armor. 

“What a sight…” He groaned and turned his gaze towards you again just in time to watch you fall apart on him. He marveled at how quickly he brought you to pleasure and figured it must have been the pollen making you extra sensitive to his ministrations. Wanting to stretch out your pleasure for as long as possible, he threw you back onto his bed and pushed your thighs open, not giving you a chance to question him as he shoved two fingers into your cunt and massaged that spongy spot deep inside you. You arched your back and grasped at his arms, barely managing to look at the visor just as he increased pressure and fucked you with his fingers. 

“M-MANdo oh g-gods-”

“Scream my name sweet girl, and only my name.” Had you actually listened to what he said, you would have sassed back at him and told him you didn’t actually know his name. But you couldn’t care less at the moment, digging your fingers into his forearms as you came around his thick fingers, repeatedly praying his “name” until you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Mesh'la...you’re so tight and warm for me...that’s it, squeeze my fingers like the good little girl you are.” Mando watched as you came around his fingers, his eyes not knowing where to look and wishing he could taste the sweat sticking on your neck as you whimpered beneath him. 

He heard it before he felt it, moaning in blind lust as he took in the sight beneath him. Your legs shook violently as you, quite literally, drenched his thighs and blankets with your cum and Mando didn’t know if he wanted to lick you dry or stuff his nose into your pulsating cunt. 

“Sweet fucking darling, look at the mess you’ve made,” you shivered when you felt his fingers leave your slit, blinking hazily and turning to look at where he was staring. When you saw what he was referring to, you quickly covered yourself and tried to move away from him, embarrassment washing over you when you saw the way he was so obviously staring at the wetness dripping down your. But Mando was much quicker than you, grabbing your thighs and pushing them wide open again before laying in between them and dragging his crotch across your sensitive clit. 

“Never hide from me,” you nodded instantly and the Mandalorian would never admit feeling his chest fill with pride at the lust-filled fear he instilled into you with only a few words. Your chest heaved as you continued to look into the visor, almost whimpering when you were met with incredibly dazed eyes and messy hair staring right back at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the only proof that Mando was very much aware of your state being the hardness twitching against your sensitive cunt. 

Mando wasn’t sure what to do with you. He wanted to simultaneously fuck you into the next system and lick every inch of you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “I can smell your cunt Ad'ika...can almost taste your neediness.”

“Ma-mando I- I want you to r-” You felt so naked beneath him, wishing he’d at least take off his clothes before this went any further. Not a single care was given to his helmet and it was out of the question to even attempt and ask him if he could take it off. You just wanted to feel his skin sliding against yours as he fucked you. Nothing else mattered. Just his scarred and sweaty muscles contracting and trailing over your own. 

“What is it sweet girl?” His voice felt like a thousand needles piercing your soul and you didn’t realize where your hands were moving until you felt him roughly grab your wrists and slam them above your head. You could tell there was a shift in the air around you and ceased to breathe when you no longer heard his moans. 

“This is the way.” Those four words hurt you more than they should have. 

“I- I would never ask you to...I swear I just wanted- I wanted to touch you. Not take it off...please I-” Mando felt his heart shatter into a million pieces because somehow, even in your most inebriated state, you respected him. You put him before yourself. And he ceased to breathe when he sat up and watched as you grabbed at his arms and refused to let go.

“N-no don’t go...I need you- d-don’t leave me pl-” Your breathing was erratic and the Mandalorian feared you’d spiral into shock. Without thinking much of his next moves, he grabbed the nearest item of clothing and ripped a small piece of it, returning to rest between your knees and not giving you a choice as he wrapped the band around your eyes and tied it in the back. You trailed your fingers over the band and pulled away instantly when you felt his the hair on his wrist. 

“I’m sorry…” Mando thought of your actions so far and knew in his heart that if there was ever another who’d look upon him, it would be you. Softly taking your hands in his, he pulled them towards his helmet and rested them at the side.

“T-take it off.”

“I can’t...Mando, you don’t have to- I swear I was only-” As hard as it was to say those words, you wanted him to know that he owed you nothing. And you hated how selfish you were being in that moment because the man was trying to tell you something and you were only worrying about yourself and how much your cunt ached for him. You were so close to pushing him on his back and taking your pleasure from him but something told you it would be worth the wait. 

“Mesh'la, I want you to.” You always marveled at how much the Mandalorian could convey in only a few words and shouldn’t have been surprised when you felt just how much he was willing to put his trust in you. Not wanting to scare him, you slowly pulled on the visor until it was completely off, remaining motionless as he took it from your hands and placed it on the floor. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with your hands so you kept them to the side, fisting your fingers into the blankets to prevent you from reaching out and touching his face. 

Mando could tell you wanted to touch him. You even told him yourself. So he made the decision for you and leaned down, passing his lips over your forehead and smiling down at you when he heard you suck in a breath. You gasped when you felt his beard tickle your cheeks. He had a beard. Of course he had a beard. But as he continued to leave kisses over your face, you realized it wasn’t really a full-grown beard. It didn’t matter in the end because he was driving you insane with every small pass of his plump lips near where you wanted him.

As he finally molded his lips with yours, you felt him pull your hands up to his face and lay them on his cheeks, the groan escaping his throat letting you know he enjoyed you touching him as much as you, perhaps even more. The kiss grew frantic the more you explored his naked skin, and you couldn’t hold back the long moan that erupted into his mouth as soon as you felt him suck on your tongue. When you pulled on his soft hair, Mando couldn’t help but growl into the heated kiss, not caring for how rough he was being as he grabbed and squeezed your thighs. 

But the kiss was over as soon as it began and you whined after him when you felt him pull away from you. You felt your fingers ascend to your face but remembered why the Mandalorian blindfolded you in the first place. Not wanting to lose his trust, you pushed your arms beneath your back to prevent any temptations from taking place. Unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching every little muscle twitch on your nude form and he almost devoured you right then and there when he saw you quickly moving your fingers from your face. 

He was amazed by how caring you were even when you didn’t hold any proper level of the right consciousness. Anyone else would have removed the cloth and blamed the pollen. But not you. 

You were special. 

Refusing to waste any more time, Mando made quick work of the beskar armor, not caring about the mess he was making just outside his room. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, smiling when he noticed you shivering beneath his gaze. He was on you as soon as he deposited his long-sleeve and pants, devouring your mouth and digging his fingers into your waist as he rutted against you. 

“Ner-” 

The possessiveness was almost palpable and he surprised even himself at the single syllable. Since when was he like this?

“Mando,” you whispered his name as you wrapped your arms around his back and pulled him flush against you, sighing in relief when you felt the hair of his chest tickle your nipples. Mando noticed your reaction and instantly descended on your heaving chest, biting and licking and pinching at the hardened buds until you begged him to slow down.

“Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. You’re so fucking delicious.” The way he effortlessly switched between his mother tongue and Basic shouldn’t have turned you on this much and yet you were. 

“Fuck me.” Your words were dripping with desperation and the Mandalorian wasn’t able to hold any longer. He wanted to take his time with you, commit every little curve to memory. Memorize what made your breath hitch and what made you sigh. 

But the request ended all of his curiosity and before you knew it, you felt him roughly pull down on his boxer briefs. You flushed when you heard the sound of his hand jerking his cock, mouth falling wide open when it jutted at your inner thighs and you felt how fucking hard and thick it was. 

“What will it be sweet girl? You want me to make love to you,” he paused for a moment and took advantage of your distracted expression, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet slit and biting his lips when he felt you arch against him at the simple yet filthy movement. “Or fuck you like I own you…like you’re mine.”

Hearing him say ‘fuck’ in such a vulgar tone did it for you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself except widen your legs more for him and grab the bed sheets beneath you.

“F-fuck me like you own me Mando...ruin me. Take what you want and- oh maker you’re so- so...fu- please, u-use me however you want. Just- I need your cock. Need to cum on your cock...can’t wait anym-”

Mando was sure he broke you with his words, watching in awe as you begged and begged until you couldn’t breathe anymore. There was no warning, no asking if you were ready for him. There was just your wet cunt teasing him until he couldn’t bear the thought of not being deep inside your pussy.

Resting his head against yours, he took his painfully hard cock in his hand and shoved it past your wet lips, letting out a deep growl as he felt you scratch his back.

“Mando, Mando, M-mando…”

You didn’t find the strength to think of a proper sentence to express what you were feeling so you opted to pray his name over and over again. He was shaking above you and you knew instantly he was trying his hardest not to break you.

“Take what you want- I...I won’t break.” 

Just hearing you say those words to him almost made him cum right then and there. You were returning the trust he gave you and he knew there was no way of putting this moment behind him even if he tried. 

Pulling out until only the head of his cock was splitting you open, Mando bucked his hips violently back into you, whispering the filthiest promises into your ears as he set a rough pace that had you seeing worlds you didn’t even know existed. 

“So, fucking, tight...how are you so wet and tight for me Cyare?” It took you a while to realize you were hearing his voice without the modulator of his mask. How had you not noticed how beautifully sinful it was when he first took it off? You wanted to tell him how much you loved hearing his thick and smooth voice. You wanted to kiss down his neck and bite onto his shoulders. You wanted to push him down and force his cock inside your throat. 

So much. You wanted so much. 

But you couldn’t find your voice in that moment. Not when he was railing into you with such an unforgiving force. 

“Made for me...made to take my cock. Such a sweet fucking girl- ah.” You should have known Mando would not be the quiet type in bed. He was a man of few words during his day-to-day life so of course he would take this chance and spill out his innermost thoughts. But it surprised you nonetheless considering how downright dirty his moans and whispers were. And you were sure he was as filthy, if not more, when he continued to speak in Mando’a. 

With every passing moment, you felt a piece of your heart split from your chest and slowly make its way into his hands. He was branding you, his cock reaching so deep inside you that you were sure you could feel him right below your navel if you only moved your hands against your skin. But you couldn’t afford to let go of him, not when he was using you just as you requested. 

“Mando you...maker, you’re filling me so- so good. I- please, can I cum? I want t- to cum. Been so good for you. Need to-” The chuckle that left his lips was sweet music to your ears until you realized he might be laughing at how pathetic you were. 

“Fucking gods Ad'ika...fill you up? Is that what you want sweet girl? You want me to- fuck, fuck...want me to fill you up with my cum? You’re killing me baby.” His voice was hoarse and he realized his mistake as soon as the words left his lips. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away from him. It was his deeped, darkest secret. He swore he would go to his grave with it. Too often he thought of breeding you, fucking you and fill you up until his cum leaked out of you and you couldn’t move. Too many nights he went to sleep thinking of what it would feel like to wake up with your sweet cunt still wrapped around his cock. What he’d give to ensure not a single drop went to waste. 

Too many days were spent dreaming of giving that little womp rat a sibling to run around with. 

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed by him and he was about to slow down when he felt your hands grab his ass and push you closer to him.

“Want your cum Mando...want you to cum inside me, fill me up until I can’t breathe...oh fuck, until I can’t feel anything but your cum hot and deep inside me. Fuck a baby inside me Mando I- oh oh gods I-” Mando couldn’t hold back anymore, violently pushing his cock inside you and swallowing your moans every time they echoed just a little louder than he preferred. He groaned in ecstasy when he looked down and saw pure bliss etched on your soft features. You clenched around him, thighs vibrating around his hips as he somehow drove into you harder and carried you past the point of pleasure. You didn’t know you were coming around him until you heard him whisper ‘good girl’ in your ears. And it sent a jolt down his spine when he continued to rut against you and fill the ship with the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin. It was almost painful, the way he didn’t let up and continued to rail into you without a single care. 

“Mine...mine, fucking mine. That’s it sweet girl, feel me. Feel me marking your fucking soul.” He was a mumbling mess at this point and he wasn’t sure if it was because you were panting like an animal in heat or because of the way you desperately licked and kissed and nipped at his neck and lips. 

“Yes, I’m yours Mando. Yours...always have been.”

The heaviness of your words struck his heart instantly, and he shoved his cock so deep inside you he swore he could feel your heartbeat. Mando rested his head in the crook of your neck, biting harder than intended on your shoulder as hot spurts of cum coated your inner walls. You feel a sudden warmth wash over you and dug your nails into his ass as he thrust once, twice, three times before stilling completely. 

The two of you continued to breathe heavily against each other and when Mando moved his knees to get comfortable between your thighs, you unintentionally squeezed his cock and felt him twitch inside you.

“Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika.” It was such a silent comment and you knew this was much different than everything he’d said thus far. Something about his tone told you he was spilling his heart out and you wished more than anything to ask him what he was saying but knew you shouldn’t...wouldn’t. Not unless you wanted him to continue and speak to you.

You were brought back from your thoughts when the Mandalorian kissed your lips, and you felt yourself drowning in his scent when he rubbed your hair and nudged your jaw with his nose.

“Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar.” Slowly, Mando wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over until you were practically sleeping on top of him. The two of you hissed when you felt his cock leave your heat and Mando wished more than anything to spread your thighs and watch as his cum leaked down your thighs. No worries, he’d do that later.

Later…

Oh what he would give for there to be a ‘later’ with you. 

The thought of not being able to have you again snapped him back to reality and he realized there was a very high chance this would never happen again because as far as he knew, this was only a consequence of the pollen.

Not wanting to bother you with his insecurities, Mando pushed your head down onto his chest and rubbed your shoulders, telling you to get some rest and to not worry about anything else. 

Hours later, Mando was waking up to a soft noise emitting from beneath him. As he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, he looked down and noticed you were still very much naked and cold next to him. Pulling the covers over you, he allowed his eyes to feed on your curves before meeting your face. Dread filled his heart as soon as he saw the wet patch on the band around your eyes. 

You must have woken up and realized what happened. A thousand different scenarios flew through his mind and Mando knew that almost each one of them was caused by your regret of sleeping with him. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” When you didn’t respond and sniffed loudly, Mando knew he had to brace for the worst. 

“Please...are you hurt anywhere?” Hearing his pleas was what did it for you and you threw yourself into his chest. 

“Mando I- I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know what was happening...I promise I- please don’t tell me to leave. I can’t leave you or the Child. I- I promise I’ll pretend this never happened. Just- don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of living without you...without him.”

Of all the things the Mandalorian thought he would hear from you, those were certainly the last to make the list. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky with you? Not only did you refuse to take the blindfold off when you woke up but you genuinely thought you’d forced him into sleeping with you.

“Cyare, it hurts to see you cry. Come here.” Mando sat up against the cold metal wall, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the covers around you so you weren’t exposed to the cold air of the ship. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me sweet girl. If anything, I- I should be the one apologizing. I was not hit with the effects of the pollen as much as you have been and...and I should have refused your pleas. But you looked so beautiful, Cyar'ika. You prayed for me to have you and I- I was selfish. I was selfish and I couldn’t stop myself from sinking into you. Branding you. Being with you.” To say you were surprised by his words would have been the understatement of the century. 

The Mandalorian wanted you. He wanted to have you. He wanted to be with you. 

“I-I’ve wanted you for so long...spent so many nights dreaming of being with you.” You confessed to him before you could think of the meaning behind your words and you were met with a deep sigh and a kiss on the lips almost immediately. 

“How long Mesh'la?” 

“S-since Tatooine.” 

Mando’s heart skipped a beat at the short yet direct response. He’s only ever been to Tatooine once with you, months and months ago when he needed Peli to fix something on the Crest for him. You hadn’t even been with their group for three weeks then. So busy thinking of all the ways he could have had you since then, Mando didn’t notice how the silence affected you until your fingers twitched against his chest. 

“Mando?”

“That was eons ago.” It was more of a comment than a question and you weren’t sure if he was angry or surprised. 

“Is...is that bad?”

“Bad? No Ad'ika, not bad.” When he didn’t offer more of an explanation, you rested your head on his chest and continued to draw circles on his naked abdomen. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in each others arms but the faint sounds of cooing and laughter snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should probably get up and make something for the kid to eat. Before you could move away from him however, Mando was bringing you closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you could never tire from feeling his lips mold and pass over yours and you welcomed his tongue with as much vigor as you could muster up.

As he pulled away, you smiled at him and wished more than anything to be able to see him smile back at you. 

“Din.”

“Hmm?”

“My name...it’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

Mando could see the exact moment you registered what he just said and he smirked to himself at how pretty you looked when something shocking took place. 

“Din.” You repeated his name silently, afraid this would all be a dream and that he didn’t actually just tell you something that was so important to him.

“You didn’t have to tell me…” You traced his jaw with your fingers and marveled at how oddly soft his beard was. 

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Din was silent for a few seconds before he flipped you beneath him and took hold of your wrists before slamming them harshly above your head. “I wanted you to know it, Mesh'la, so you could scream it the next time I fucked this sweet and tight cunt.” 

For a man of few words, he sure knew what to say to get you worked up again.

Translations: 

Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh - I will kill you if you do not leave her.

Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas. - I do not care about the credits.

Gedet'ye. - Please.

Ad'ika - Little one

Ni’duraa! - You disgust me.

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Gota'la - Maker.

Gar cuyir mesh'la. - You are beautiful. 

K'olar - Come here.

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner - Mine.

Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. - I can’t...hold back.

Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika. - I fear you, darling.

Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar. - You are too important to me. I can’t lose you.

[kuroosweakness]

pouring rain | miya atsumu | pt. 1

summary: timeskip!atsumu: in which atsumu meets you for the first time 

word count: about 1,900

a/n: my first mini fic without an established relationship :) i’d love love love to what you think of it!!

atsumu scoffs and skids his shoe across the sidewalk. small rocks fly up in the air and tumbles down back on the concrete. is he really off his game today? no, it just seems like his teammates couldn’t do their job and just score. oh no, he’s going back to the same toxic mindset he had in high school. only this time, osamu isn’t here to kick him back to his senses. 

with a heavy sigh and hands deep in his pockets, atsumu reluctantly turns back towards the gym. his head hangs low as he feels people’s eyes staring at him in judgement. atsumu lifts his head to glare at them, only to find no one’s looking at him. he sighs again and slowly turns the door knob to the gym entrance. a wave of warm air hits him. he forgot how warm it is inside the gym compared to outside. 

“tsum-tsum, you’re back!” bokuto exclaims, jogging over to him and giving atsumu a big pat on the back. atsumu narrows his eyes at him, trying to find some snarky remark to say but decides against it. 

“yeah, i am,” he quietly says. his eyes dart around the almost empty gym. “where’d everyone go?” 

“home. it’s said to rain soon and since the practice game’s over, they headed home early. it’s just hinata and i.” 

right on cue, atsumu’s eyes find hinata waving at them while drinking water. 

“we need a setter to practice with us-” 

atsumu waves him off mid-sentence. “not today. i’m gonna head home.” 

hinata dashes over and atsumu quickly puts on an even grumpier face to resist hinata’s cheery eyes. 

“you usually always stay after practice,” hinata points out and starts doing high-knees in place, then arm circles. 

“well, today’s different.” atsumu reaches down for his bag and slings it over his shoulder. he needs to get out of the stuffy gym as soon as possible. “see ya guys later,” he calls and pushes the gym doors open. 

“see ya!” he hears bokuto and hinata call. 

oh he can’t wait until he gets home. when he gets home? and then what? by ‘home,’ he means the little apartment he recently moved into that’s always cold and dark when he goes back. not a very welcoming place, especially not with today’s grey, cloudy weather. 

atsumu trudges across the sidewalk and waits for the walking signal before crossing the street. a crowd of people walks towards him so he walks to the very right to avoid any contact. just four more blocks until he gets home. 

the near distance is the main reason atsumu chose the apartment. the short walking distance between home and the gym is nice, especially after tedious hours of practice. what’s even better is the fact that ‘samu’s restaurant is only a couple blocks away. 

oh, ‘samu! atsumu’s eyes widens as he straightens his posture. the thought of biting into a warm, delicious onigiri is enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth drool. only three more turns, he thinks, pacing his steps to avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks. he suddenly remembers the way he’d laugh at osamu when they were children everytime osamu stepped on a sidewalk crack. 

“step on a crack and break your momma’s back~” atsumu would say as he held his stomach in laughter. his laughter quickly died down when osamu calmly reminded atsumu that they have the same mom. 

the skies are darkening. the clouds appears to be getting thicker. it’s only a matter of time before rain starts to pour down. good thing i beat the rain here, atsumu smiles and opens to the door to osamu’s restaurant. 

as usual, he walks over to the very end of the store and settles himself on a stool. good thing no one has taken his spot. he places his bag on the empty stool next to his right gives it a small pat before hollering out for his twin’s name. 

“‘samu! your favorite sibling is here~” 

osamu’s figure appears behind the counters. he’s wearing a black shirt and black pants with an apron covered in flour placed over them. on top of his head is his usual black cap. 

“and my least favorite sibling,” the cook chuckles before frowning at atsumu’s face. “why do you look so stupid?” 

atsumu pulls back and huffs. “stupid? is this how you greet me after a long day?” 

osamu’s lips slowly tugs upwards. he reaches down and dries a bowl with a grey towel. “care to tell me what happened?” 

“let me have some food first.” 

osamu rolls his eyes and places a plate with three beautifully wrapped onigiris on top in front of atsumu. atsumu’s eyes immediately glows as he snatches an onigiri and chomps down. 

“you didn’t even wash your hands.” osamu sighs and reaches for another bowl. 

“my sets weren’t so good today,” atsumu mumbles, setting his onigiri down and looking into the distance. “and so i got mad at my teammates for not scoring. they got mad at me and said that it wasn’t them, it was because of my sets. i don’t know why i’m not on top of my game like every day.” 

osamu goes silent. his drying pace slows down. “...’tsumu, you haven’t taken any breaks since you joined msby. maybe you ought to slow down and take care of your health.” 

to osamu’s surprise, atsumu doesn’t defend back. he just heavily sighs and takes another bite. “i guess so.” 

“oh look,” osamu nods towards the nearest window. “it’s already sprinkling.” 

“good thing i never remember to unpack my bag so my umbrella’s on me. gotta work smarter, not harder~ ” atsumu smirks and slowly steps out of his seat. “better get going before it rains even harder. bye ‘samu, thanks for the food.” 

osamu nods. “i’ll see you later.” 

atsumu slings his bag over his shoulder and heads toward the front door, only to see you also head for the door. who goes first...? atsumu awkwardly gestures toward the door. “you first.” 

you take in the sight before you. a tall, muscular, blonde guy who looks ... well, a little weird. handsome? yes. also really dumb. it’s so cold today, yet he’s wearing a sleeveless top. you scoff, it’s probably because he wants to show off those arms, isn’t it? 

from his frown, you realize your scoff was a little too loud. before embarrassing yourself any further, you give him a small nod and opens the door. as you step out, you leave a hand on the door to keep it open for him. he gives you a small nod as a thanks and steps out under the roof a few feet away from you. 

the sound of pitter-pattering is all you hear. water droplets skids down the brown roof and plop, onto your shoes. at least it’s not pouring, you think as you pull your hood over your head, ready to dash into the rain all the way home. 

as if right on cue, the swaying of the tree speeds up. the pit-pattering turns violent. 

“i um, have an umbrella if you want to ... share.” 

you turn to look at him in surprise. he unzips his bag and pulls out a small black foldable umbrella. with a press of a button, the umbrella opens. 

“if your home is in walking distance, i can drop you off,” he says with a shrug. he places the umbrella over your head and gives you an awkward smile. 

trusting a stranger to walk me home, what can possibly go wrong? you sarcastically thought. “you’re osamu’s twin, aren’t you?” 

“so you’ve heard about me,” he says with a smug smile, possibly one of the most annoying smiles you’ve ever seen. annoying, because they’re hard to resist. 

it’s hard not to when there are billboards with your face on them all around here. “yeah, i have. you’re... miya atsumu?” 

“that’s right. and you’re ...?” 

“y/n... maybe you can drop me off at a convenience store so I can buy an umbrella there and walk the rest of the way home. where i live is pretty far away...” it’s not that you believe he’ll murder you, but that he’ll have to walk all that distance and back just to drop you off. you can’t have a stranger go all that way for you. 

“are ya sure? the umbrellas in convenience stores are always expensive. i’m not looking forward to heading home anyways so don’t worry about me.” 

... “well, okay. my apartment’s across from ‘hug a mug’ cafe, if you know where that is.” 

to your surprise, atsumu chuckles. “yeah i know where that is. i can’t but laugh everytime i hear their name.” 

“it’s cute,” you defend. “you know, like getting a warm, toasty hug along with a cup of coffee.” 

atsumu blinks at you and appears to what you said into thought. “i guess i should go to ‘hug a mug’ more often then, shouldn’t i?” he steps out into the rain and waits until you step under the umbrella to start walking. 

“yeah, you should. business has been slow for them lately. every time i go, there are barely any customers.” you look at to avoid stepping in puddles, and to avoid walking too close to him. every time you inch a bit further from him, he just seems to center the umbrella with wherever your head is.

“i should recommend ‘hug a mug’ to my teammates then. i’ll have to go try it out first, of course, just to make sure i’m not recommending anything bad,” he chuckles along his last lines. 

“...atsumu, your shoulder.” 

“my what?” he whips his head in your direction. 

“you’re not covering your shoulder,” you point out. water’s running down his right arm. 

“it’s fine,” he replies, and leans back to peek at your shoulder to make sure it’s not like his. “osamu and i used jump in puddles and compete with each other to see who could make the biggest splash. whenever i made a big splash, osamu would pretend he didn’t see it.” 

you softly laugh under your breath. the puddles ahead of you are quite tempting. but you know better not to jump in, for the possibility of splashing on his shoes and pants. who knows how much his shoes might cost? he’s a professional volleyball player, afterall. 

“just one more turn, right?” atsumu asks. “oh look, the rain has slowed down.” 

little droplets of water slides off the black umbrella in front of you. “yeah, you can drop me off here, i’ll walk the rest of way since it’s barely raining anymore-” 

he huffs. “drop you off at a random corner? and what happens if it starts pouring again?” 

... with a few more steps, you spot hug a mug across from the street and points it out to him. “see? we’re here. my apartment is just on the second floor. i’ll get going now, thanks for sharing your umbrella...” you give him a small wave before speed-walking up the stairs to your apartment. 

halting in mid-step, you turn to see if he’s still there, only to see a bare sidewalk with water running down the drains. he must’ve left already. 

as you unlock the door to your home, atsumu’s walking back home with a stupid grin spread across his face, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding in since he left his brother’s restaurant. if only if he had walked slower, then maybe the conversation with you would’ve lasted longer. 

[imreadydollparts]

Asked about smoothing pony hair (nylon) in general

I’ll try to get this all together in one go....

How to get from:

To:

Most important 

is that your flat iron has multiple heat settings.

That is 100% my secret. I lucked into the right flat iron about 15 years ago.

If it's just on-off it's most likely too hot. If it's low-high, also tends to be too hot even on low.

Mine has 30 temp settings, but they are 1-30 not the actual temps so I can’t give any advice as to what temp I’m using on what hair, just what flat iron setting.

I generally stay on heat setting one (which on my particular iron is low enough to not melt Kanekalon, while also high enough to smooth nylon) unless a hair is particularly stubborn, then I will turn it up by one dot on the dial at a time, testing it every time it reaches temp again.

Very rarely does my iron melt hair but it has happened with the color-change streak on a Splash n Color Teresa and with Creata doll hair*. Nylon can handle a little more heat but is also very willing to take a shape, so doesn't need much.

Mini Tip:  I’ve found that wet hair smooths out more easily than dry. The steam, I guess. As long as your flat iron is set right for your fiber the hair will not melt, so you can do it dry if you want, but wet goes better.

Second biggest tip is that Amazon thinks I have a cat and a dog but I don’t.

That’s because I use pet combs and brushes on doll and pony hair.

Metal tines, as long as they are smooth (I had some combs that were punched from a sheet of metal and the tines were squared off and sharp) are best for plastic hair fibers because plastic combs have seam lines on the tines that can snag and tear hair.

A cat slicker brush like this is best for regular brushing because, just like a detangling brush for people, the wires will bend and let go of a knot instead of ripping out the hair.

@firespirited​ told me about this type of steel comb and it is amazing. The tines don’t bend [on mine] and the comb hasn’t warped at all even with repeated use and some heavy tangles. You can turn the comb on it’s end and use the last tine as a pick when needed.

And this exact flea comb has been MVP. I picked it up relatively recently and have been amazed by it’s durability (only recently have the tines started to bend a little and that’s after roughly 300 dolls and ponies and pulling pretty hard on some of them). It also does some kind of magic on doll hair.

The spacing on this comb is also so fine that it can pull out more dirt than a soap and water wash did. It’s excellent at removing lint, bug parts (had centipede legs and dead ants that were falling apart in pony hair recently), and most animal hairs as long as they aren’t aligned with the fibers. Have to get those with tweezers.

Often I’ve gotten through the rough comb out with the steel comb and the fibers felt like they might need hit with the flat iron, but after making a few passes with this flea comb it’s perfectly smooth and doesn’t need heat anyway.

Leading the flat iron with this comb (as in having the iron right behind the comb while flattening and combing at the same time) has helped a ton with smoothing out the tips of the hairs. Without doing that, there’s usually an inch or so of bad scruff left over after flattening. This takes it down to about a quarter inch which is a lot less loss after trimming.

(Amazon affiliated links to the brush, steel comb, and flea comb.)

Third biggest is conditioner.

Even if the hair doesn’t feel very dry, a little time in some conditioner will make it flatten more easily.

Any conditioner will help, but some do work better than others. I ran out of some Herbal Essences conditioner and bought a GALLON of Mane n Tail. Mane n Tail has been kind to MY hair, but wasn’t as effective on doll/pony hair as the Herbal Essences. Suave is another brand that’s worked well.

I’ve also had very good results from an after-coloring treatment mask from Garnier and tend to save that one for the worst feeling hairs.

Also important:

Realistic expectations.

The hair won’t feel perfect after flattening. Most of it will feel really great, but the ends will generally still be crinkled up a bit. That means the very ends of the hair will feel bad, still, and so will any shorter hair with the end being up in the main uh..... I don’t know clump of hair? You’ll be able to feel it if you run your hand down the hair. You can ignore those, pluck or trim them, whatever you want.

You may also have to condition and flatten multiple times to get the results you’re looking for. Don’t be discouraged if the first flattening doesn’t get you there.

Here’s a badly matted Disney Animator’s Collection Rapunzel with the left side combed out:

And after the first run through the flat iron:

And here after three or four conditionings and flattenings (I don’t remember exactly how many):

As for how

The order in which I do things changes depending on the state of the hair. If it’s very tangled and matted I usually won’t try to wash it until I’ve detangled it with the steel comb, because it’s difficult to rinse again and I don’t like working with soapy-wet hair.

If it’s particularly gross and dirty, though, I’ll go ahead and wash it because I also don’t like to touch nasty, or sticky hair. I use dish soap. It’s effective on a lot of different kinds of yuck and won’t harm the doll/pony or it’s hair.

Assuming the hair is too icky to touch comfortably:

- Wash and rinse, followed by a towel drying (or laying out to dry if I’m doing a LOT of them at once) and then set to work on the tangles with the steel comb.

- Starting at the ends comb the hair, slowly working your way up to the root, very carefully, gently picking apart mats with the wider-end of the steel comb or the end tine on a metal-tined hair pick or rat-tailed comb (there weren’t any rat-tailed combs when I went shopping for one so I got a pick and it works fine) until all of the major tangles are gone.

- Tip to root, very carefully with the finer end of the steel comb.

- Tip to root, very carefully with the flea/nit comb.

- This is where I generally apply conditioner. You can either apply it directly or if I’m doing a lot of Barbies all at once, I like to put some cool water in a dish, mix in some conditioner, and lay them so their hair is all in the same dish. That saves some product. Then let that sit however long you want. There is no too long, don’t worry even if it dries in the hair. It’ll rinse out fine. Then rinse well when you’re ready.

Mini Tip: Some people will tell you to flat iron the hair with the conditioner in. You can do that if you want. I haven’t found it makes much of a difference unless the hair is desperately dry, and in that case I’ve found it more effective to apply a very thin coating of petroleum jelly (put a little-little bit in your palm, rub it around until your hands are just a bit greasy but not very, run the hair between your hands a few times) and heat that in, as opposed to regular hair conditioner.

- Towel dry, and while it’s still damp, section it out and hit it with the flat iron. BE CAREFUL flat ironing wet or damp hair because you will drop boiling hot water into your own lap. Just be cautious. Keep a towel in your lap. 

I generally flat iron from root to tip, leading the iron with the flea/nit comb. This works out fine if you’ve detangled properly.

- Repeat conditioning through flat ironing steps as needed. The first flat ironing is generally not enough when the hair was badly matted.

*For Creata brand doll hair, carefully detangle, comb, and wrap with your curlers, put the head in a plastic baggie then- or directly into- a mug of water, and put it on a candle warmer for a few hours.

[theweasleysredhair]

One For The Road [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 2029

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Post-Azkaban Sirius is a jealous guy... especially when it comes to his girl and Snivellous.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I hope the requester enjoys! (requests still open, feel free to send some my way!) also yes I only named this fic ‘one for the road’ bc of the arctic monkeys song

+ + + + +

“Do you have to go back to Hogwarts this year?” Sirius groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you tried to wash the remaining pots.

“I reckon so, being a teacher and all,” you laughed, placing a pan on the drying rack. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair tickling as he placed a soft kiss there.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You’d been waiting for this. Sirius hadn’t really made any comments about you having to leave, even though he and you were aware that you’d be away most of the school year, just like Harry would be. You had begun to worry about him being alone in Grimmauld Place again, especially after being around people constantly over the summer holidays.

You dried your hands on the tea towel and spun around in his arms to face him, “I’m going to miss you too. But you know you can write, and I’ll write too, and Christmas will be here before you know it. It’s only four months away.”

Sirius pushed his lips against yours for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him. You responded immediately, kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. “That’s four months too long, love,” he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away a couple inches.

“It’ll fly by, I promise. Remus said he’d stay with you in the meantime so you’re not here alone. I hate thinking about you here, especially with that bloody painting... I just want to take you with me.”

“I’ll happily jump into one of your suitcases love, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you grinned as you turned back to washing. You were just placing the last pot on the drying rack as people started arriving at the house. You placed the tea towel on the counter and slowly pulled away from Sirius’ arms - much to his dismay - to greet Remus, who was followed closely by Tonks.

“Wotcher, Y/n!” Tonks greeted as she pulled a chair out at the dining table. “Hi Tonks!”

“How are you doing, Y/n? Ready for work?” Remus asked, taking his own seat at the dining table. “I’m not doing bad, I’m half packed for the next term, still got a few bits I need to sort out but I’ll get there. You’d think I’d be a dab hand at this by now but I still end up forgetting something every year,” you said with an airy laugh and a shrug, leaning against the counter.

The sound of Walburga Black screaming in the hallway made all of you look over, Sirius sighing dramatically as he left the room to go shut her up - although not before giving your bum a cheeky squeeze, causing you to swat at him with the damp tea towel and making him chuckle.

He returned a few minutes later with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye, Arthur Weasley and Bill Weasley, who were followed closely by Severus Snape - an old school mate and colleague of yours - and finally Dumbledore.

You greeted them all with a smile, taking a couple of steps over towards Snape, who you chatted with for a small while about the year to come at Hogwarts. At some point, Sirius had sidled up to you and threw an arm around your waist not-at-all subtly, making you roll your eyes playfully at him. You turned to Arthur instead.

“No Molly today?” You asked him. He shook his head, “No no, not today, she’s with the rest of the kids, getting ready for Hogwarts. Thought it best she keep an eye on them all.” You nodded understandingly.

The rest of the meeting went off without much drama, besides the glares you saw Sirius shooting over at Snape, but that was to be expected by now, what with the whole hatred thing they had going on. You didn’t really understand it, even back when you were all at Hogwarts yourselves. And whilst you didn’t agree with the way he treated Lily the last time they spoke, you’d never personally had a bad experience with the man, and actually got on well at Hogwarts - or as best you could, anyway.

When everyone had finally left a couple of hours later, you decided to continue packing for Hogwarts, knowing it would be worse to try and rush the morning of your travels.

As you placed some of your final items into your last trunk, you turned to Sirius, who was stood in the doorway of his - or rather, your shared - bedroom, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, what’s up love?” You asked, raising an eyebrow worriedly. “Nothing,” he replied, not quite meeting your eyes.

You smiled to yourself and walked the short distance over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and making him automatically rest his on your hips. “Is this about Severus? Because you know I’ve told you to ignore the things he says,” you said brushing your nose against his. “Snivellous,” Sirius spat his name out, “Can say what he wants about me. What I don’t like is when he’s so close to you.”

“Ohh, you’re jealous!” “I’m not jealous.” “You’re so jealous! Oh Godric, I never even realised. Oh love, you know I adore and love you and no one else, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s just someone I have to work with. No one could hold a candle to you,” you said, closing the small gap between you and pressing your lips to Sirius’. He kissed back easily, spinning you round so you were pinned between him and his bedroom wall. “You promise?” He mumbled against your lips. “I solemnly swear it,” you teased with a laugh, finally making him crack a smile, “I’ll be back before you know it, don’t you worry.”

***

It had been nearly two weeks since you’d arrived back at Hogwarts. The students were starting to settle back in, as were the staff, and honestly you loved being there, loved your job. Sure, it was disheartening sometimes when you couldn’t see Sirius but the smiles on your students faces made up for some of it.

You’d just owled a reply to the first of Sirius’ letters for the school year, wanting to update him on your first couple of weeks back. You were also worried about him, knowing he hated being stuck in Grimmauld Place, especially when he was alone. You’d also happened to mention Snape’s idea of starting a duelling club, and how excited you were to be a part of it, loving the idea of teaching the students more magic. What could be better?

A couple of days later, you were sat in your classroom, a pile of students’ essays sat in front of you as you marked them. This was the part of teaching you didn’t like as much, but it was nice to know that nearly every student you taught had handed something in, and most were to a high standard. Not a huge surprise, considering many of your students adored your lessons, but the response was still nice to see.

You were lost in your work, when suddenly there was a knock at the door that made you look up, “Oh Professor L/n?”

Although you couldn’t help the smile that was fighting to show on your face, you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?! You could be seen - are you mad?”

The dark haired man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “Of course I’m mad, I spent 12 years locked away. But anyway, I just came to visit my lovely girlfriend at her amazing job.”

You moved around your desk to give him a hug, “You must be careful, I can’t have anyone seeing you - did Dumbledore agree to this?”

Feeling Sirius chuckle under your embrace, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Of course not. I never asked permission. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too! It’s only been two weeks as well,” you said with a grin as you pulled away slightly to look up at him, however still staying in his arms.

“A very long two weeks. I don’t think I’m going to make it until Christmas without seeing you, I just felt I had to come and see you, I missed your pretty face.”

You looked at his ‘innocent’ face and squinted your eyes, before scoffing with amusement, “Bullshit... you were jealous weren’t you? Of Severus? Because I mentioned him in that letter?” “Of that greaseball? No way,” he shook his head but you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You do realise I love you and only you right?”

“I know, I know. You always say and show it and I’m so lucky to have you. I just... I’m so scared you’ll realise you deserve better,” he sighed, looking down as he gently squeezed your hips, “I mean... you deserve someone who can take you out on dates and show you off to the world! I can’t do that, I’m just an old fugitive.”

“I don’t care about all that, I don’t want someone else, I want you. I deserve you and you deserve me. I love you, Sirius, and I wouldn’t change you for the world. You’re a fugitive because the ministry were incompetent - as always - with handling the entire case, but regardless, I don’t care. No one, not Severus, not anyone could take me away from you. I waited for you because I knew you’d escape and I knew you’d come back to me because we love each other. I always have, from way back when you were a bloody heartthrob and girls chased you. You used to tell me that none of them mattered because they weren’t me. Now it’s my turn to tell you that no other guy matters because they’re not you. I love you so bloody much.”

You pushed your lips to his, kissing him passionately and with as much love as you could pour into it. He kissed back, lifting you up onto your desk and nudging the papers out of the way as he stood between your legs, one hand squeezing your thigh as the other cupped your cheek. He tilted your head to deepen the kiss, licking across your bottom lip as you parted them to allow him access into your mouth. “I love you,” he mumbled between kisses. “I love you too.”

You didn’t know how long you were there, all you knew was that you were thankful no one had tried to walk in on you both - although you weren’t sure you would have noticed if they had. You ran a hand through his hair and pecked his lips again, “As much as I want to keep you here, you probably need to go before you get caught!”

“What if I don’t care?”

“I do care, I want you to spend Christmas with me, so please make sure you get home safe,” you said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll see you again at Christmas, counting down the days!” He stepped backwards, before quickly kissing your swollen lips again and then reluctantly beginning left the room.

“See you then, my love,” you called after him, receiving a loving smile in return. You just about caught a glimpse of him turning into his dog form before you took a deep breath, going to sit back down at your desk to continue marking the papers.

You’d just written down an “O” on one of them when a head popped round the door of your classroom. You looked up, expecting a fellow teacher or perhaps a student, instead being met with the cheeky grin of your Sirius Black.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to it, his grin turning easily into a smirk as he said, “I don’t suppose I could have one more kiss for the road?”

And well... when he looked like that, who were you to deny him?

[destiniesfic]

Folktober 01 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels, and for spooky season: an AU where Jude and Taryn were never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk. Mostly.

I count four of them. One, two, three, four. Four of them have taken my sister.

They took some others, too. It’s easy to tell them from the ones they’ve taken. Even as silhouettes, there’s something wrong with them. They move too gracefully, like they’re dancers who can hear music I can’t. And when they’re still, they’re too still. They’re all tall and lean and wear what looks like Renaissance Faire cosplay, and if I wasn’t looking right at them I wouldn’t think they were real. I still don’t think they’re real.

In addition to my sister, my twin, there seem to be three more people. Real people. A college-aged boy playing guitar, staring without seeing. A couple of hikers. The entire macabre party sits or stands or reclines around a massive bonfire, flames licking up a cage of tented branches. We learned about Guy Fawkes Night — Bonfire Night — in AP European History. If that’s what they’re celebrating, they’re too early by a month, and also on the wrong side of the Atlantic.

A shiver goes down my spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

I recognize my sister’s silhouette. Taryn sits back on her heels, her hands on both knees, her back unusually straight. She doesn’t seem hurt. If she were herself, she’d scold me for following her here. After all, she was just sneaking out to meet some boy she bumped into at the mall today. I couldn’t explain my suspicions, the way the hair prickled at the back of my neck. Her smile was a little too dreamy. But I let her go. And I followed her.

Taryn stopped wearing the berry necklaces our parents gave us when we were thirteen or fourteen. Even though I am also too old to believe in superstitions, I never did. Now the string of dried rowan berries loops around my neck, hidden under my black turtleneck. I touch the fabric, feeling it through the cotton. Maybe it will save me tonight.

I draw a breath and step out from the bushes. In my hands, I am carrying the biggest stick I could find. It’s not as thick as a baseball bat — I should have brought a baseball bat — but if I have to hit someone, it’ll hurt. That’s what counts.

“Hey!” I shout.

The guitarist doesn’t stop playing. In fact, none of the humans look at me. But all of them do. The faeries. They are so beautiful they turn the corner into being terrifying. Like otherworldly models, specifically the ones from the nineties, with the cheekbones. Heroin chic, kind of, except they all have this glow that has nothing to do with the firelight. Their ears are pointed. Their fingers are too long. Their smiles are too sharp. My brain hurts.

At least they’re easy to tell apart. There are three boys and one girl. The boys all have different-colored hair: red, blond, black. The girl has long blue hair. She reclines on a cushion near the red-haired boy. One of the hikers combs her hair with a carved seashell, a glazed look on her face. The other hiker offers an apple to the blond boy, perfectly subservient. The last boy, his hair blacker than the dead of night, wears a silver circlet and lounges on two more cushions. He has a cup — a goblet — raised to his mouth. Dark liquid shines at the corners of his lips. I am afraid it’s blood, but I realize it’s probably wine.

I know very little about faeries, because faeries weren’t real until tonight. I take stock of what I do know: don’t accept food or drink from them; don’t trust them; they can’t lie; something about iron. That’s all. It’s not much. I hope it’s enough.

Standing there, brandishing my stick, it doesn’t feel like enough at all.

The black-haired boy squints at the contents of his goblet. “It’s too early for me to have drunk so much already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then he addresses the blonde boy. “Am I the only one seeing double?”

“No,” says the redhead, the one sitting next to Taryn. He looks fox-like in a way that I can’t quite explain. The color of his hair, maybe, or the point of his chin. “I see her, too. Kin?”

“Twins,” says the girl, sounding vaguely intrigued. “How very mortal.”

The blond boy knocks the apple out of the hiker’s hand. “Well? Go and get it,” he says to the hiker, but he is watching me. Apparently the people they’ve already caught are no longer as interesting as I am.

The first boy sighs, but then he grins at me, a cat who’s cornered a mouse. “Welcome, twin sister. Won’t you join us? Come and sup at our fire.”

There’s something under his words, like a hidden current in still waters that might pull me out to sea. But it just washes over me. I ground my stance and raise my stick higher. “Let Taryn go,” I say. “Before I decide to play softball with your heads.”

The boy frowns. Something tells me it’s not because of my threat. The girl looks slightly nervous. “Cardan?”

“Perhaps a charm,” the fox boy suggests, but he is now interested too.

“Mortals don’t know enough to wear charms,” snaps the blond boy. He stalks over to me, and I prepare to swing, even though I think it will just make him mad. “Perhaps if we strip her bare—”

“I will scream,” I threaten. The bark of my stick digs into my palms. I try to sound angry instead of scared. “I will scream and someone will hear and they will call the police.”

“Let them,” says the girl, tossing her shining hair. “More guests.”

The black-haired boy, Cardan, raises his hand. “Peace, Valerian,” he says to the blond boy, who scoffs and sits down cross-legged by the fire. “What kind of hosts are we? Surely we must extend to her some hospitality. What is your name, twin sister?”

Name. Something about faeries and names? Why does that strike a chord? I press my lips together and shake my head.

“This one knows something of our kind,” the fox boy remarks. “Enough to know there is power in names. Don’t be afraid.” His voice is gentle. I almost want to believe him. “Mortal names grant no power. We must call you something.”

I bite my lower lip. “Jude,” I say. It’s just one part of my name. Harmless, I hope. “And yours?”

“Locke,” he says. “My companions are Valerian, Nicasia, daughter of Orlagh, Queen of the Undersea, and Prince Cardan of Elfhame. Can we not convince you to join us? It is an honor for any mortal to dine in such esteemed company.”

“That’s fine.” My mouth is oddly dry. “I just want my sister back. Then I’ll leave you to… whatever this is. And I won’t tell anyone what I saw.”

“But we had such plans for Taryn.” Nicasia reaches up across Locke’s lap to wrap her finger around a lock of Taryn’s hair. “She’s such a soft thing. So fragile.”

My sister doesn’t move, and I shiver. Some kind of magic? Every single nerve in my body is screaming at me to run away before I’m spelled too. But I can’t leave Taryn. I refuse.

I shrug. “You’ll just have to cancel your plans, I guess. It happens.”

“Does it?” asks Cardan. His eyes, blacker than his hair, fix on me. He chuckles. “Perhaps we can make a deal, Jude the mortal. Answer one riddle for us and your sister goes free. How does that sound?”

“Good,” I say before thinking. My brain catches up a second later. “A little too good, actually. What happens if I get it wrong?”

“We keep the pair of you,” Valerian sneers. There are chuckles among the group, and I don’t like it. They seem to know something I don’t.

“The terms are more than fair,” Cardan prompts, smiling at me. “Do you accept?”

I want so badly to wipe that smile off his face, but I am outnumbered. I would lose a brawl. I would never get Taryn away. At least if I play this game with them I stall for time. “Do you swear she’ll go free?”

“I swear it.”

I give him a sharp nod and lower my stick. Faeries can’t lie. “Then I accept.”

He leans back against his cushions. “Tell me, then, what it is that never drinks but grows when fed?”

I wait for the rest.

“That’s all,” he says, with a flutter of his hand. “Well?”

For a moment, my mind goes completely blank and I’m sure I will fail. Then a breeze stirs my hair, and the bonfire crackles. My brow furrows. It seems too easy. “A fire?”

“Well done,” says Cardan. “Locke, send the sister home.”

Nicasia pouts, but Locke leans over and whispers something in my sister’s ear. Taryn stands and turns away from the fire, toward me. I am so relieved to see her whole, with the blush she’d put on before she went out still pinking her cheeks, that I don’t notice Valerian until he’s grabbed me from behind.

“What the fuck!” I yell, trying to kick his shin, to step on his foot. He is much stronger than I thought, and his grip doesn’t break. Taryn, seeming to notice nothing, walks into the trees and out of my sight. “You swore! You said—”

“I said we’d send your sister home,” says Cardan. “And home she goes. I said nothing about letting you go with her.” He raises his goblet to me in a mock-toast. “You must really be more careful when striking bargains.”

Next

[sandwichrin]

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 7)

Chapter 7 - Meeting “the Gang”

Word count: 5.6k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here you go, Chapter 7! ^^ I felt bad for making you all wait so I wrote this chapter extra long :3 (this was worth 14 pages on my word doc hhddhd) And yes! Y/n finally had her first offical encounter with Junkyu here! 🥰 Enjoy! 🧡

You woke up from your slumber, feeling your phone vibrating beside you on the sofa. You got up and grabbed the phone, pressing on the answer icon on the phone screen.

“Hello?”

No response.

“Hello??” You asked again.

Still no response.

Squinting your eyes as you stared at the bright phone screen in your hand, you checked for the notifications.

5 missed calls from Hyunsuk TRSR.

You immediately stood up. You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the drowsiness you still felt from the sleep you had after getting back from the convenience store in the afternoon.

Your fingers scrolled through the notification centre in your phone again, this time seeing an unread message from Hyunsuk.

 From: Hyunsuk TRSR

Hey. They found out 😓 I guess there’s no point in hiding the milks anymore… Send me your address! I’ll come and pick it up from you after I’m done with practice.

 You checked the time the message was sent. Gasp! He sent the text literally 4 hours ago!

You lightly slapped your own cheek. Why did you even take such a long nap?? You hurriedly tried to type a response to Hyunsuk when suddenly you stopped.

Wait. He tried calling me, didn’t he? So…technically, I could just call him back…right?

You sat back down on the sofa behind you. Maybe…maybe you should just call him up?

You took a deep breath and pressed the dial number button on Hyunsuk’s contact in your phone.

Beep…beep… you could hear your heart beating just waiting for him to pick up your call.

 Phonecall Conversation:

Hyunsuk: Hello? Y/n!

You: Whoa chill Hyunsuk. You’re pretty chirpy at a time like this.

Hyunsuk: What? It’s only past 8pm. You sound groggy.

You: Really? Omg I’ve been asleep for so long I can’t even tell what time it is anymore ugh!

Hyunsuk: You slept through the afternoon? (laughs) That’s something.

You: Erm, whose fault was it that I had to carry home tons of banana milk huh?

Hyunsuk: Alright, fair enough. Oh right! Text me your address! We’ll come pick it up on our way home later on. Practice is over but I think we’re gonna stop by for some dinner first.

You: Hold on—We?? No way, you’re not bringing your whole crew here.

Hyunsuk: Wha-? Why nottttt?

You: My place is… (looks around) kinda small…I mean, it’s cramped enough of an apartment and like, if you bring along all 20 of you, I’m pretty sure the floor is going to fall off.

Hyunsuk: (laughs) Stop exaggerating y/n! There’s only 12 of us okay?

You: I know thatttt. Still! No. Okay?

Hyunsuk: (sighs) Fine. Just text me your address, a.s.a.p okay?

You: Aight. Bye. (hangs up)

Hyunsuk: Hello? Wow she really just hung up like that huh?

 -end of phonecall-

 You sighed to yourself and hurriedly text Hyunsuk your apartment address. You head towards your room to charge your phone and proceeded to go shower up whilst waiting for him to come over.

                                                                *

 You got out of your shower and dried yourself up, putting on your clean dark blue pyjamas. You walked over to your phone that was charging on your dresser and when you were convinced that there weren’t any texts or calls, you went out towards the living room to go dry your hair with the hairdryer you kept there.

10 minutes into drying your hair, you heard the doorbell rang. “Just a minute!” you yelled at the door as you put down the hairdryer, not forgetting to switch off the plug.

You checked your reflection in the mirror nearby the entrance patio, noting that your hair was dried thoroughly and your face all pale from being bare after the shower you had.

Your hand reached the doorknob and the moment you opened it; you were surprised to see an unfamiliar tall figure in front of the door.

“I? Erm, you’re not…?”

Junghwan, who was busy staring at his phone, looked up from it to see you staring at him with a confused look on your face. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” he backed away from you quickly, almost as if he was afraid of you. He turned to Asahi beside him, “Hyung! Why didn’t you tell me she was at the door already??”

Asahi shrugs at the maknae, not saying anything in return.

“Erm…why…. wait, where’s Hyunsuk?” you asked, still confused as to why these two are here and not Hyunsuk. Especially since you’re sure they’ve never met you before.

Suddenly—

“Y/N!” Jaehyuk’s voice rang in your ears as he jumped out from the wall he’s been hiding behind while waiting for you just now.

Your hand reached your chest, lightly patting it. “Oh my god Jaehyuk! I could’ve had a heart attack!”

“Oh, alright then. I guess I won’t be jump-scaring you then,” Yedam showed up as well from Jaehyuk’s hiding spot. His smile beaming as he approached all of you.

Unknowingly a smile crept on your face seeing the familiar faces that you’ve met before this. You let out a chuckle, “Nice try, Yedam. Come on in y’all.” You moved to the side of your doorframe to let them all enter through your front door.

Jaehyuk and Yedam entered your doorframe, confidently passing by you whereas for the other two, they avoided looking at you, entering with their head staring at your floor. As soon as all four of them have entered, you closed the door behind them and fold your arms against your chest.

“Okay but real question—where’s Hyunsuk? I thought he was supposed to come over?” you asked.

The four of them turned around to look at you at the same time. You almost jumped from your spot since seeing four attractive men looking at you all at the same time wasn’t something you were ever used to.

Yedam smiled answering your question, “Aw come on y/n. You’re not happy we’re here? Did you only want to meet Hyunsuk-hyung?”

Jaehyuk pouts at you upon hearing what Yedam said.

“Oh gosh noooo. I was just…confused. I mean, he did say he wanted to come over, no? That was all, really.”

Jaehyuk’s pout turned into a smile, “It’s my banana milk so it only makes sense that I came to get it, right?”

You nodded at him, agreeing with what he said. That surely made more sense.

You gestured towards the two-seater sofa in the middle of the living room at them and said, “You guys can take a seat first. I’ll grab the milks and put it into a paper bag for you guys.”

Asahi and Junghwan, both still being quiet and looking like they were awkward with you, proceeded to just sit down on the sofa.

You left them and headed towards the kitchen that was only a few feet away from the living room (small apartment struggle hhdhss). In the kitchen, you went towards the drawer near the kitchen sink to pick on a suitable paper bag that would fit all the bottles. You had always been somewhat of a hoarder so you had plenty of folded paper bags kept in the drawer.

You were pulling out one specific paper bag that you thought would perfectly fit all the banana uyus when a voice spoke up, making you accidentally dropping the paper bag that was in your hands.

“Y/n? Omg are you okay?” Yedam said as he rushed towards you and helped you pick the paper bag up.

“Oh no, I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to come here,” you said sounding flustered.

“Oh, no wonder you’re all jumpy,” Yedam grinned.

You smirked at him, “Yeah sure. Did you say something just now?”

“Oh no, I was just wondering if you need help with anything?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I got it all under control,” you chuckled at the handsome man beside you.

Yedam handed you the paper bag and you walked over towards your fridge, with him trailing behind you.

Opening the door of the fridge, you started arranging the banana milk into the paper bags. Yedam stood there just watching you arranging the bottles into the bag properly, making sure it was neatly arranged.

Yedam noticed you looked kind of different now that he’s seen you up close. Maybe it was because you weren’t wearing makeup? Your hair wasn’t as tidy as when he first met you, and your skin looked a little pale compared to last time. He also noticed that certain parts of your skin were blemished and he thought that you looked pretty with the slight redness on your cheeks especially.

“Aight! Done!” You exclaimed as you shut the door of the fridge. Your voice snapped Yedam from his trance.

You turned to Yedam with the paper bag in your hands, and you gestured him to take if from you. “Here, you can give this to Jaehyuk for me,” you smiled.

Yedam smiled back at you and nodded. Taking the paper bag from your cold fingers, he carried it along with him and headed towards the living room.

You on the other hand headed towards the kitchen sink and washed your hands before wiping it dry with a kitchen cloth. You head towards the living room to check on the boys that were waiting for you.

“You guys…not leaving yet?” you asked, noticing that they were all looking relaxed sitting on the sofa in your living room.

Jaehyuk placed a hand on his chest as he said, “Ouch y/n. You really want to get rid of us that fast, huh?”

“What? No, no! I mean, I thought…I thought you guys only wanted to take the milks,”

Asahi, who had been quiet the whole time, stood up slowly. He turned to you and bowed slightly at you, his eyes still not looking at you though.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Junghwan asked.

“Come on, let’s leave. Our business here is done anyways,” Asahi said in a soft tone, barely audible for you to hear.

Yedam and Jaehyuk’s face fell, looking like they were sad that they really had to leave when they’ve only arrived there not too long ago.

You, noticing the glum tone in their voices, decided to say something, “I- wait. I wasn’t asking for you all to leave, you know. I was just…Oh, wait! Jaehyuk!”

Jaehyuk looked up at you, wondering why you called out his name, “Yeah?”

“Are all the milks enough in the bag? Did you check?”

“Yeah, there are 9 here. Oh, wait!” He took out one of the bottles and walked over to you, handing the milk over to you.

You looked at him questioningly.

“This is yours, remember? Jeongwoo gave it to you earlier today. I think it’s to make up for the one you gave me last time,”

“O-oh. Sure. Thanks,” you said as you received the bottle from Jaehyuk’s hand.

Yedam lets out a sigh not far from you and Jaehyuk. “Well, I guess we all should be going now. We’d hate to bother you at a time like this,” he said apologetically.

Jaehyuk pouted slightly but he nodded as well at what Yedam said. He grabbed the paper bag you gave earlier and motioned his dongsaengs to walk with him towards the front door of your apartment.

One by one, Junghwan, Asahi, Yedam and Jaehyuk bowed at you, thanking you for letting them swing by.

You watched as the boys were putting on their shoes at the front entrance of your apartment. You felt bad watching them leave just like that. Why? You weren’t sure either. Maybe you felt like you weren’t exactly treating your guests right? Maybe you felt bad that these people (well, some) seemed to be excited in meeting you but you didn’t even try to spend time with them. And yet, you’ve always wanted to have friends who were in your age range. They’re here now. What’s stopping you from treating your new friends the right way?

“Hey,” you called out softly to the boys who were already getting ready to leave.

Yedam turned around, hearing your voice.

“Do…you guys…wanna hang for a bit? I was gonna order some takeout so…”

“Yes!” Jaehyuk said happily, his face beaming at you. This made you smile as well.

You looked at the rest, wanting to be sure that they didn’t feel like they were forced to stay, but to your surprise, all the other 3 of the boys gave you their assuring smiles as well.

You felt relieved.

“Alrighty then. Come on, let’s go see what they have in the menu!” you said happily.

                                                                 *

 If it weren’t for your courage in asking Jaehyuk and his dormmates to stay and hang with you the other night, you wouldn’t have been able to gain new friends to be honest. At this point, you were happy, having new friends to hang with and talk to occasionally.

Ever since that day, your phone would receive texts from them, talking to you about their routine and asking about your day as well. Is this how it feels like to have brothers?

And knowing not to make it awkward by texting you personally, Junghwan made a group chat for all 5 of you to catch up with each other—which is also the only chat you were ever actively replying in.

It was a Tuesday and you were still in your office at the time, working on your powerpoint slides to be handed in to your supervisor that very night itself, when you received a text from Hyunsuk.

You stared at your phone confusingly, seeing the name that pops on the screen. This is weird. Ever since the night Yedam and his dormmates came over to get the banana milk from you, Hyunsuk had never texted you any further so you wondered if he had assumed his business with you was done for good.

Biting your lower lip, your finger slowly tapped on the unread text in your phone.

 From: Hyunsuk TRSR

Hey! How are you doing y/n? It’s been a while hasn’t it? 😊

 You stared at the text for a while. Should you reply? What should you say? Why is he texting you now? Does he need any more help from you?

You groaned to yourself, wondering if Jaehyuk had a banana milk incident again. What if Jaehyuk overbought his milks again and he was too scared to text you himself so he asked Hyunsuk to contact you instead?

A soft sigh escaped your lips. You began typing your reply to his text;

 To: Hyunsuk TRSR

Oh hey. I’ve been well. What about you? Everything all good over there?

 You placed your phone down on your desk after sending your reply, wanting to resume your work.

Beep. Your phone buzzed, signalling that a text was received.

You took your phone in your hand and opened the text.

 From: Hyunsuk TRSR

Yeah, all’s good here. Hey, listen. Wanna go grab some lunch together? We can bring the gang along. We’re all free this afternoon 😀

 To: Hyunsuk TRSR

You have a free schedule this afternoon? That’s great! I don’t think I’ll be taking up that offer for lunch though, I rarely leave the office during lunchtime. I usually just eat what I packed lol. Sorry 😥 but have fun having lunch with the rest! 😀

                                                             *

 Hyunsuk read the reply you sent him and a frown formed on his lips. He lets out a soft sigh. Why is it so hard to meet you? He had wanted to thank you for helping Jaehyuk out by treating you to a meal but it seems like that would be difficult to achieve for now.

Slowly lowering himself to sit on the floor of the practice room, Hyunsuk began thinking about his first encounter with you. He wondered if it was pure coincidence for you to cross paths with him at the time. Or maybe…he was just someone you’d cross path to meet someone else. What if the coincidences you both had with each other was meant for you to end up meeting one of his other group members?

Just as he was about to overthink, a figure sat beside him and rested one of their hands on his shoulder. This made Hyunsuk’s head turn to look at the person sitting beside him.

“Doing some deep thinking hyung?” Jihoon said, his hand still on his hyung’s shoulder. His face was lined a small tint of worry, since he entered the room to see his hyung sitting on the floor, looking like he was feeling down.

Hyunsuk smiled timidly at his friend and shook his head, “Nah, I was just kinda bummed that’s all. Y/n turned down my offer for lunch today,”

“Oh? That girl who you kept bumping into?”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I mean, I feel indebted to her and yet I feel like it’s so hard to meet her. Like, I’m the idol here and yet she’s the one that’s busier than I am!”

Jihoon snickered seeing his hyung getting all worked up over a girl.

Hyunsuk groaned upon seeing Jihoon’s smile. “Oh come on! It’s not like you’ve never felt this way before,”

Jihoon shook his head at him, “No, I really don’t. If I ever get worked up over a friend, it wouldn’t be to the point that I’d get all frustrated from not meeting them,”

Hyunsuk kept quiet.

“Could it be hyung…that you like this girl?”

“What?” Hyunsuk lets out a loud laugh. “What?? What made you think of that?” he said in between his laughs.

Jihoon rolled his eyes at his hyung who was laughing and looking at him like he’s crazy. “Hey, I’m just assuming, okay? You were so worked up over her I could only assume you like her,”

Hyunsuk stopped laughing. “You know how emotionally attached I get around people right?” he gave his friend a cheeky smile. “But really, in all seriousness, I just want you all to meet her. She’d be a wonderful friend. I can feel it,”

Jihoon smiled. “Sure, hyung. Sure.”

                                                                 *

 “What??” You asked your colleague who was sitting beside you.

“I said- --------”

Your face scrunched in confusion. It was so loud in your office that you couldn’t even hear what your colleague was trying to say to you the whole time.

Your colleague sensed that you weren’t able to hear her so she raised a finger up to your eye-level and mouthed “Wait a second. They’ll announce it later.”

“Announce?” you asked her back.

She nodded back at you and pointed you to look at the main door of your department’s floor. Just as your eyes looked at it, surely enough, the Vice President of the company was already at the door.

“Hello everyone!” he called out loud, making all the commotion that had been going on since just now quiet down.

Finally. If the office got any louder you could’ve gone deaf for real; you thought to yourself.

Mr. Seo, the Vice President of the company flashed his shiny smile at everyone as he said happily, “I am sure you all have heard of the good news today!”

Everyone in the room cheered loudly. Again, you were lost. Did you miss out on any news in the department’s group chat??

You sneakily took a peek at your phone, wanting to check your messages again, just in case.

“Yes! Our company has finally merged with Karako W’s Communication and now they will be fully internalising our company’s staff with theirs! Our family has a bigger family now!”

“YAYYYYYYYY” you heard the whole room cheer madly. You blinked your eyes a couple times. Karako W? Isn’t that one of the big communication groups that often work with entertainment industries here? Whoa. No wonder everyone was so happy. This is big.

A smiled formed on your lips and you joined the cheerings made by the rest of your colleagues. You understood now why everyone was so happy. Bigger merges, bigger family. Bigger family, bigger pay. So everyone has a high chance of getting a raise!

The Vice President raised his hand, signalling everyone to quiet down.

Once the room was quiet again, he started to speak again, “Now, to celebrate this joyous day for our company, I’ll be giving you all the afternoon off!”

This earned more cheers in the room. At this point you gave up hoping for peace and quiet from everyone.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow! Tomorrow we all start afresh as a brand new family!” He added, making the whole room go wild.

You discreetly covered your ears in hopes that your eardrums were safe.

The Vice President then started laughing happily (you weren’t sure why, but he’s probably just super happy right now so yeah, let’s just go with it yeah?) and he shuffles out of the room along with some of your department workers still cheering him on.

Your office was less noisy now, finally.

You sat in your chair, staring at the post-its taped to your desktop monitor. You thought to yourself about the journey you had to be here. Where you are right now. You finished high school and was immediately offered to work in the city by your favourite teacher, the one person who had always believed in you, your abilities and skills.

“You have what it takes to be a star, y/n. I can see it. I feel it too. You’re very smart. Your future that’s waiting for you, it’s so bright,” was what she said to you back then.

She had high hopes for you.

Which was also why it made sense how disappointed she was in you when she found about you skipping your college entrance exam.

But kindly enough of her, despite her disappointment in you, she made arrangements for you to work at her son’s small, but surely growing company, a company that provides professional English language seminars for offices in the city.

Your teacher was upset, but she helped you nevertheless.

But you clearly had no choice back then.

You had to skip the college entrance exam because you chose to be with your elder sister at the time.

Your grip on your pen tightened. It had only been a year ago since she left you, but it still hurts like it happened yesterday.

 Flashback:

You were getting ready to go to school, your uniform all crisply ironed and your hair neatly braided, whilst leaving little baby hairs hang loosely beside your ears. You were applying your lipbalm when you heard your phone rang.

You ran over to your dresser, where you left it to charge whilst you were getting ready but when you answered it, there was no one on the other line.

You stared at your phone screen. It was your sister.

But she left for work earlier didn’t she?

“Maybe she forgot something,” you said to yourself.

You dialed her number and again, this time no one answered.

You felt uneasy. You tried to shrug off the negative feeling you’re having and just focus on getting to school on time.

Today’s the day! You were prepped for this, you’ve been studying very hard for this and this time, you knew, it would all be worth it!

                                                                *

 You were on your way to school, casually walking and planning out your life plan after completing the college entry exam today.

….You wanted to enter a good college, get a part time job for the meantime too, and then you plan to go for a trip with your sister on your semester break.

Smiling to yourself, you didn’t realise that you’ve already reached your school’s main gate.

Your heart was racing.

This was it.

The final step. The final step before you embark on your adulthood.

You entered your school’s gate.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

“Oh?” You said as you took your vibrating phone out of your bag. “Silly me, I should keep this off until the exam is over,”

You stopped when you saw the name on the phone screen. (Sister’s name) eonnie.

You smiled to yourself. “Eyy, eonnie must have wanted to wish me luck for the exam,”

You clicked on the answer icon on your phone.

“Eonnie! Just in time! I was about to switch off my—”

“Y/n? Is this Miss y/n?”

“Uhh, yeah…erm, who is this?” You asked the person on the other end, realising that it wasn’t your sister.

“Could you please head over to the hospital? Miss s/n has been brought to the emergency ward.”

Suddenly you felt cold all over. What happened?

Your throat felt dry.

“Miss? Are you there?” the voice in the phone spoke.

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m on my way.” You told the person before hanging up.

You ran towards the main gate again.

This time, you stopped again there. You turned around and looked at your surroundings. The school, the students…your college entrance exam…

You could feel your heart beating fast. Your hands were shaking. Is this…how it’s supposed to be?

Unconsciously, a tear fell down your cheek. You shook your head to yourself and immediately ran off.

You need to get to the hospital fast. Your sister needs you, and you want to be there for her.

 End of flashback.

 A droplet of water fell on your thigh, leaving a small dark patch on your dark brown office skirt.

You sat up straight in your seat. You didn’t realise you had been reminiscing for quite some time. You looked around to see the office being almost empty.

Huh. So the VP really gave us half the day off, huh?

You shrugged to yourself.

Wiping your tear-stained cheek with the back of your hand, you decided to pack up and leave the office as well.

                                                                 *

 Hyunsuk walked out the front entrance of the building, stretching his arms, trying to let his body loose from all the sitting down he did during his song-writing session earlier.

The sun was shining warmly today and Hyunsuk loved the feeling of the sun’s warmth soaking through his skin.

He checked the time on his watch.

The rest should be here any moment now. They have all promised to gather up and have a big group lunch since their afternoon schedule is free for the day.

Suddenly, as he was standing by the entrance of the building, he saw a familiar figure walking pass by the building.

Without thinking long, Hyunsuk’s feet immediately ran towards the figure and grabbed them by the arm.

The figure, taken aback by what he did, immediately reflexed by hitting him with her bag.

“Ouch!” Hyunsuk said, as he lets go of your arm.

“Hyunsuk??” You huffed, trying to peek at his face that was being covered by his hands. He was rubbing one side of his head, obviously surprised with the attack he received from you.

Hyunsuk pulled down the black face mask he was wearing, revealing a grin.

“Oh my god! Don’t ever do that again! I might end up really hurting you!” You said, your voice rising a pitch. You were obviously worried—worried that you might get sued for hurting an idol.

Hyunsuk laughed at your statement. “Yeah, sure sure. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Wipe that worry off your face, y/n,”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried,”

“Really now? You know, if I got hurt, I might have to file a law—”

His words stopped when he saw your eyes widening and showing fear.

This made him laugh even harder. He enjoyed making fun of you, surely.

“That’s not funny, Hyunsuk! I can’t afford to fight against a lawsuit,” you said, slightly in a bitter tone.

Hyunsuk smiled at you. “Sorry,” he said.

You looked at him and sighed. “I’m not mad at you, just so you know. I’m just…naturally a bitter and awkward person,”

“Sure, y/n,” he nodded, his smile still visible on his lips.

“Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be at the office?” he asked when he realised that you were out when your working hours weren’t over yet.

“Oh, that. Yeah, our company had a big merge so our VP gave us half the day off,” you answered him.

Hyunsuk’s smile widened.

You saw his face literally lighting up from what you said, and you immediately opened your mouth to speak, “No Hyunsuk. Don’t give me that look,”

He moved closer to you. “What look?”

“I know that look Hyunsuk. I may not know you well but I know what that look means,”

Hyunsuk stomped his feet lightly, in which you find ultimately cute. He grinned when he said the words you dreaded to hear.

“Join us for lunch, y/n,” he said with his eye-smile showing now.

You took a deep breath. Resist. You have to resist this, y/n. He’s acting darn cute but you know by far that you won’t have your ground shaken by this.

“Aw come on, y/n! You’re free for the afternoon! Come join us!” he pleads.

You shot him a skeptical look.

He started nudging you with his elbow.

You fold your arms against your chest and shook your head. But this time, a smile was forming on your lips.

“Come on y/n. I mean, if you’re with us, at least I know I wont blabber our secret to the others,”

This jolted you back to focus.

“No way, Hyunsuk. You wouldn’t,”

Hyunsuk smirked at this. He knew he got you this time. “I mean…I could…just talk about us…to my friends…”

“No. No no no Hyunsuk. You are not doing this to me. I barely know you, and here you are threatening to expose one of my humiliating moments!”, you chimed at him, feeling slightly annoyed at the same time.

“Come on y/n. Just join us for lunch. I promise it would only be for a short time.”

“No! I told you that I have a lunch date with someone else.” You said, making up a lie.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me that earlier. Who’s it with? Your imaginary friend?”

You let out a loud gasp. “How dare you call my friend imaginary! He’s real I tell you!”

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?” Hyunsuk smirked at you, as if knowing you were bluffing at him.

You blinked a couple of times. Shit. Now, why didn’t I think of a name beforehand??

Hyunsuk’s smirk grew when he saw you speechless. Yet, he still waited for an answer from you.

“W-well. His name is Kim Satori. Yeah! Kim Satori.” You huffed.

“Okay. I believe you, even though I find it fairly coincidental that we’re standing opposite a convenience store.”

You frowned. He couldn’t have guessed it…could he?

“…almost like how Kim Satori sounds like the convenience store owned by Owner Kim- the store right in front of us now.”

Damn it. He caught you lying- again. “Alright fine! You caught me. I was…lying.”

“What’s so bad about having lunch with us y/n? It’s only for an hour, an hour and a half tops.”

“Look, I…I’m just…embarrassed okay? I’ve never eaten with a group of 20 guys before,” you exaggerated. “Besides, what’s your deal with me having to eat with you all the time??”

Hyunsuk smiled his cute smile. Maybe he could push you just a little bit more. He moved closer and put an arm around your shoulder. “I mean, I could choose not to have lunch with you. And then maybe let them know that I met you by saving you from getting p-“

“Okay! I get it!”, you interrupted, not letting him finish his sentence. You glanced around just in case anyone was around. Close call. Phew. Nobody’s around.

You rolled your eyes at him when he started laughing at your reaction to him almost spitting out the embarrassing incident that happened weeks ago—which lead to you meeting him.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”, a voice appeared behind the both of you.

Both you and Hyunsuk turned around to see Jihoon, looking tired. Probably tired of today’s practice; you thought.

“Jihoon! Look, y/n here wanted to join us for lunch!” Hyunsuk announced cheerfully at his taller friend. His arm was still around you.

“Oh?” Jihoon’s eyes slightly widened. “That sounds nice! Hyunsuk-ah, maybe you can introduce her to the rest who haven’t met her!”

“I…uh…” you opened your mouth to speak. “Wait, you know me?” You asked feeling confused.

You’ve only officially met Hyunsuk a few times so there was no way Jihoon knew who you were.

UNLESS.

You whipped your head to look at Hyunsuk. “Oh my god! You told him?!”

Hyunsuk moved further from you, raising his hands in defense. “Hey look, Jihoon and I barely keep stuff from each other.”

“Yeah, but you told him about it? That was P and C Hyunsuk!”

Jihoon grabbed a hold of your shoulders and tried to calm you down before you end up really attacking Hyunsuk. “Now, now, y/n. Wait, it’s y/n right? Ah, right. It’s okay, this secret stays between us okay?”

“Ugh fine.” You wriggled out of his hold. “Since you clearly exposed me already, I don’t think I need to have lunch with you guys then.”

“Oh come on y/n,” Hyunsuk whined.

You shook your head, clearly stating that you didn’t want to, and quickly turned your heel to walk away, when suddenly you bumped into something hard. “Ow!” You placed your hand on your face to see if it’s still intact.

“Ah, I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—” the tall man stuttered.

You lift your head up to see who it was you had bumped into and suddenly you felt your breath hitched at your throat. It seemed that you had bumped your head against Junkyu’s chest when you were in a rush to leave the place.

 To be continued…

[greenninjagal-blog]

Another One Bites the (Star)Dust pt1

What is up my guys. After five months, seven drafts, and far to many screaming matches with google docs, I bring you the next installment for the [Space and Everything In It series]! 

((Also a special thanks to @secretlypansexualmango for being my sounding board through all of this. I am so sorry for the wait))

Summary: After a nightmare, Virgil goes to check on his space family, and finds....more than he bargained for in a late night run in with the ships’ unfavored guest.

Word Count: 10200

TW: Nightmares about death and dying, blood, attacks, poor coping mechanisms, 

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

The Dust was not grey, Virgil noted absently. It was more of blueish color, like that one pair of jeans Virgil had worn until the all the color had washed out of them, like every pair of sneakers that his parents pressured him to get because he was “being too picky” for wanting purple shoes, like the towels in Janus’s bathroom that they used to dry off after an unplanned midnight swim.

The Dust was not grey. It floated in the air suspended in a breathless wonderment, like ashes after a house fire. Virgil got to stare at it for a minsannu, a qisannu, an eternity as it hung in the emptiness and he could see every detail of each individual grain. It was the cool grey color inherently, but if he looked too closely, too long, too hard, he could see the specks of red and purple in it, like embers flitting away, somehow too hot and too cold at the same time.

Or maybe that was just the blood.

Virgil’s mouth tasted like both: the dust and the blood. It coated the back of his mouth and his throat and the inside of his lungs and made every inhale burn in a way that Virgil hadn’t known was possible. He wanted to cry, did cry, had been crying for longer than he even remembered.

His eyes itched from tears, his chest ached from the bruises and the broken ribs and the knife wound that needed stitching he couldn’t get. Not here, not ever. His head hurt from where he hit the ground minsannus ago so hard that his vision blurred and all he had been able to see is that dust moving in slow motion right over him.

He could hear the cheers all around him still, the echoing violent wordless noises made from clickings and growls and gurgles and screeches and--

And it was all different and foreign and Virgil didn’t know what was going on, didn’t want to know what was happening around him. His skin was on fire, burning and bubbling and blistering under the harsh sun until his outsides felt just like his insides and he wasn’t sure which was which. He tried to blot out the noise, he tried and tried and tried but no matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears the crowd’s voices were louder, stronger, more powerful and more roaring. 

He could feel the vibrations of the noise shaking him apart.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Virgil!” 

Another voice sliced through the chaos, sliced through the cacophony and the crowd, sharp and pleading and familiar in a way that made Virgil’s soul beg. And Virgil’s whole body writhed in agony from how quickly he uncurled himself to find the source of it. It sounded like safety, like softness and protection and something that wasn’t stained with grit and sweat and blood and dust.

“Virgil!” Patton yelled, appearing right in front of him, so small and so breakable. His eyes were so big and so weak and all it would take was just one jab and Patton would be gone forever, and Virgil would never get a hug from him again, would never get to see him dance around the kitchen again, would never get to hear him call him “kiddo” again. 

What was he doing? Was he stupid?

The dust looked wrong on his skin: it turned Patton’s pale green flush to a pasty grey. Like a Halloween Ghost, a ghoul with makeup on, like a poorly made joke that wormed around Virgil’s chest and squeezed all the scarce oxygen from them.

There wasn’t enough oxygen in the first place, Virgil knew. Never enough, not here on the planet’s surface. It was a mockery of Earth; just enough gravity to hold him down, just enough oxygen to keep him breathing, just enough distance from the sun to keep from burning him alive. Virgil could never breathe in enough, and if the fights went on too long his body boiled, and if he moved too slow he would be dead. 

“Oh kiddo,” Patton said, between cracked and drying lips and taking a step back from him. “What did you do?”

Virgil's chest lurched, like there was something inside of him trying to claw its way out. His head pounded, and every time he blinked he swore Patton got further away, like he was scrambling back, like he was afraid, like he was running and leaving Virgil there, all alone. The words rang in his head, echoing louder and louder until Virgil couldn’t hear anything else.

“Pat--!” Virgil yelled, screamed, begged. He was right there-- no, please don’t leave him, not here, not alone-- he’s sorry, so sorry, he’ll be better, do better please don’t make him--

He strained for the smaller alien, desperate and broken and hysterical. He lunged after Patton, because Patton had always meant warmth, safety, home. He threw a frenzied arm out reaching for him and--

The dust was not grey, and it didn’t look grey on his own skin. Virgil knew this because the dust was always on him. Clinging to his skin, caked on in the clots of blood and the dried up sweat and recesses of every tattered piece of fabric he’d ever tried to hold on too. He couldn’t get it off of himself no matter how much he rubbed, scraped, clawed at himself. The dust clung to him like a shadow, like a phantom, and it made his sunburn look faintly purple.

“How could you?” Patton’s voice sobbed because Virgil’s hands were not just faintly purple. 

They were red. And sticky. And dripping. 

“No,” Virgil choked. His mouth tasted like ash, like dirt, and that fucking dust. “No! Nono Nononono!” He stepped back and the solid ground that he’d been thrown against again and again and again swayed and bucked under his feet; an ocean of grit that his knees couldn’t brace against.

The crowd was cheering. He could almost hear them: even as he was screaming, even as he was pressing his drenched hands over his ears, even as he was struggling to breathe and staring at splatters of blood that weren’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t be his. There were so many voices, so many people crammed in the arena, watching him spit up blood, watching him just barely dodge blows that were going to crush his ribcage, watching him recklessly get away by any means necessary. Virgil couldn’t make out the words, it was too loud, too much, too many but he could feel the blood dripping down his face, matting his hair, pooling in his ears as he tried to drown them out.

“This isn’t real--” He yelled. “This isn’t--!”

“Vir….gil….” 

“No!” Virgil screamed, “This isn’t-- I didn’t--!”

He stumbled back again, eyes closed, and his lungs begging for air he couldn’t give them. His foot hit something, stepped on something, rolled his ankle on something and then he was hitting the ground again, driving his elbow into his gut and his head knocking the rock floor.

His eyes stung from the dust that cascaded all around him, thick and heavy and like a smog that he couldn’t ever escape. It rose up and blotted out the sky, the arena, the jeering crowd, Patton-- the dust swallowed the world and Virgil coughed trying to keep it from taking him too.

“It’s not--” Virgil croaked, gagging at the burning in the back of his throat, at the grit in his teeth.

There was a body at his feet. A body that he tripped over. A body that had pale skin, four limbs, and a face that Virgil would know even if he were blind: the dirty blond hair, the mismatched eyes, the pale lips. A body thats cut open and tore apart and bloodied and eyes that looked so scared in their last moments and--

And Virgil’s seen his hands this color, this messed up, this ruined enough times to know how that body got that way.

“Vi…” 

“NO!” Virgil shrieked. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. THIS ISN’T REAL--!”

-- Virgil woke up to someone screaming. It took him a long moment to realize it was him, and even longer to wedge his fist in his mouth to stop it.

His room hummed with the silence, the aftermath of a storm that had left nothing but carnage in its wake: Virgil was on the floor, his legs tangled up in his blankets and himself shaking so hard that his teeth dug into his knuckles. The taste of blood made his stomach lurch, and suddenly he was scrambling up, fingers clawing at the soft rug under his feet and he was spitting his saliva out of his mouth like it was possible for him to choke on his own tongue.

It wasn’t real. 

But Virgil’s head rang from the impact and there was grit in his teeth, blood on his hands and the lack of noise was so loud that he couldn’t hear his own breathing. Was he breathing? His lungs burned like they were on fire, like he was back under the sun of the Welsor home planet and the white boils were peppering his chest until he couldn’t inhale at all.

His knees went weak right before the door and he hit the floor so heavily he didn’t feel it at all. His arms wrapped around his chest turning him into something smaller, something dismissable, something unseeable, because surely if no one and nothing could see him, then no one and nothing would bother him at all.

There was dust in his mouth, blood on his lips, aches in everything else that he owned. His toes curled in and he drove his chin directly into his collar bone.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t--

The oxygen felt thin, crisp and brittle as he desperately tried to coax it into his lungs and hold it there for longer than a minsannu, longer than a blink, longer than an earthly nanosecond. It was like trying to bail water out of a boat with his hands, except that the boat was the fucking Titanic and he was up to his shoulders in water already. 

The ground was cold. 

The room was dark.

So why did Virgil still feel like he was in the Welsor Fighting Rings? It had been a year, or something-- Virgil tried to think, to count the days, but time in space slipped away from him even when he was feeling good. The ship’s time cycles were wonky depending on the quadrant and Roman liked to set them to the nearest habitable planet’s cycle. But Virgil had been pretty sure, he’d thought enough time had passed that the nightmares should have stopped. He shouldn’t be dreaming of blood under his nails and dust clinging to his body.

He was happy now! He was living his best life!

He had Patton who would make up puns and swing from the rafters and make sure he ate; Roman who would drag him to their little armory and teach him how to defend himself incase something ever happened to them; he had Logan who would gladly take the time to talk to him about cultural differences between species or ramble about his new found discovery.

He had Janus. Who he thought he lost a lifetime ago, who he thought he’d never get to see again, who he hadn’t really left the side of since they had recovered both him and Remus from the Pol’turs. He had Janus whose eyes glistened with warmth so familiar it felt like being home more than Earth ever had, whose touch was featherlight and unmistakable, whose smiles alone took his breath away and he’d gladly keep giving it if it meant Janus’s kept smiling. He had Janus who could kiss him a million times and Virgil would never get tired of it.

He was happy to be here. To be in Space. To be with these three aliens and Janus and be nowhere near Earth at all. To be free and lawless and completely in control of his own destiny.

He was happy, so why couldn’t he figure out how to sleep through the night?

He felt dirty, which made no sense at all. He was on a ship in the middle of space and he had showered last night using shampoo that smelled like grape soda. Janus had commented on it too, saying he smelled nice and pecking him on the check right before he strolled off to his own room for a bit of alone time for bed. Virgil dragged his nails down his upper arms, down his forearms and feverishly rubbed, trying to get off dust and dirt and even his own skin if that would get the feeling to just go away. 

There were tears in his eyes, on his cheeks, inching their ways down his neck and irritating everywhere they touched. His lungs howled, and begged, and cried and Virgil couldn’t do anything but curl tighter in on himself.

He was happy. He was not dirty. He was alive and breathing. He was not in the Welsor Fighting Rings.

He was okay.

He was not going to tell anyone about this.

Virgil felt the coldness of the polyfurnish floor seep up into this body, crawling over him, through him, in him like a wave washing him away. He was the Big Bad Deathworlder after all, who came from the Deathworld itself, not knowing a thing about the other races that lived out in Space with a capital “S”. They called him a savage, a brute, an animal that needed to be locked up when it wasn’t being thrown into the fighting ring to win them money and prestige. He was the undefeatable champion, the one that brought the horrible old legends of Deathworlders to life, the one could kill without-- without---

He thought he had forgotten what it was like, for some reason: the way that a pulse felt under his hands, the look in a creature's eyes as they suddenly went unnaturally still, the smell of inhuman blood hanging over him because some creature’s insides were now clumped in his hair. He thought he had forgotten what it was like to take away a life.

His stomach lurched again, jumping straight through his ribcage and up his throat in such a violent motion that Virgil’s eyes rolled right back into his head and he saw white static. 

Butterfly wings, he thought. That was what Patton’s pulse was like, considering that he had two different hearts pumping so rapidly that Virgil wouldn’t have even known what the feeling was if Patton hadn’t told him. Roman’s was heavy and loud like a drum beat and protected by a very human looking ribcage. Logan’s was quick and quiet and unusually only as calm as the lights flicking through the rest of his body, like the rain back on Earth.

Janus’s was soft. It was real.

Because Janus hadn’t died. He wasn’t dead. Virgil hadn’t killed him and he was just down the other hall sleeping soundly in his own room, come on, he knew this, Janus hadn’t died-- 

Virgil had fallen asleep to the sound so many times before. Back on Earth it was a steady thrump that had lulled him from his thoughts, and Virgil had found his favorite part of their secret sleepovers was watching Janus’s chest lift and fall while the TV screen credit lights painted him in a glossy hue. It was constant, strong, undefeatable: Virgil admired that heart beat of Janus’s, admired the way that it had started so weak when they had first met and steadily gotten bolder, brighter, louder.

Janus was happy here. Virgil knew it from the curve of his lips, from the sparkle in his eyes, from the relaxation of his shoulders as he leaned back and pressed himself into Virgil’s chest when they sat together. When he walked into a new room, Virgil was the one that Janus always looked for and he always lit up when they made eye contact, like even after all this time Virgil was still something he could never get tired of looking at. Janus’s laugh was rich, his tone playful, his energy boundless and free and wonderful. Janus was happy and his heart paraded that happy tune, undaunted by anything.

And Virgil was curled up on the floor in the middle of the night, feeling like a foreigner in his own body.

They had made a promise once upon a time, once upon a star, once upon a night that both of them hadn’t wanted to remember but couldn’t ever forget: the Robotics show where Virgil had thought he had finally done something that would make his parents proud of him, but the Ekans family had shown up and Janus’s amicable smile (and a hefty wad of cash) had stolen first place from him. Second place was worthless to his parents. It always had been. 

“How’d you know?” Janus had asked and Virgil’s mouth had gone dry because he hadn’t known and he had just been saying whatever he could to hurt everyone else. “Please, Virgil, whatever you want-- You--you can’t tell anyone, please, my parents--”

Virgil had started hating Mayor Ekans and his wife for real after that.

“I am nothing,” Janus had said that night with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face that looked so terrifying Virgil wanted to do whatever he needed to do just to get him to stop. “Don’t you know that, Virgil? I’m nothing but a pile of lies.”

“They’re not even good lies,” Virgil had said. “Don’t you get tired of being everyone’s favorite person?” 

Janus had laughed, like Virgil had told a joke and the sound of it had twisted Virgil’s arteries. He had stepped back then, looked to the sky and stared up at the stars like they had some sort of answer to a questioned Janus never should have been asking in the first place. 

“I…” Janus had said so very long ago and Virgil never forgot. “I like that you’re honest, Virgil. I don’t...I don’t have to lie to you, and you don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not going to ever lie to you,” Virgil had said once upon a time when the only audience had been Janus and the twinkling stars overhead. 

“You promise?”

But the thing about promises was that...Virgil… well Virgil never had a good experience with them. His parents made a million of them and none of them had ever panned out. Sunday brunches as a family, ice cream if he did his best in school, listening to his side of the story when the teachers called home saying he was in trouble before giving him a punishment. Virgil thought maybe the only time they stuck to their word was when he had asked them if they would show up to his robotics show that last time. 

Wasn’t that funny?

Virgil had spent so long trying not to be like that. Trying so very earnestly to never lie, to never go back on his word, to be exactly what he advertised and keep every promise he made. Where had that gotten him in the long run? 

Maybe it was his genes.

Maybe it was inside of him; that thing that made it so very easy to remember that promise and still pretend that nothing had happened after Janus had disappeared. The worst part was that it had almost worked. 

It had started out slow, small, dismissible: Virgil saying his favorite color was purple and Janus blinking in surprise because three years ago it had been black (black like coal, like shadows in the night, like a funeral attire he never wore); Virgil showing Janus his work space and his mini robot assistant that didn't really do anything more than hand him a tool and Janus saying “oh you got the lift action to work!” like he hadn’t built much larger, much more complex robots since he’s been out in Space; Virgil not understanding a joke that Janus made in fucking Spanish because he had stopped bothering to practice when Janus had stopped being alive.

It had started as things Virgil barely thought about in the moment, barely thought about until they were long gone, barely thought about until it was too late.

And suddenly Virgil had turned around and realized that a lie of omission was still a lie and that if he told Janus the truth--

What would Janus think when he realizes just how messed up Virgil was? When he realizes that Virgil was a walking time bomb waiting to explode and get both of them killed? What would Janus do when he realizes that Virgil had killed people before? That Janus’s parents turned out to be right all those times the snidely said that Virgil was capable of murder, just look at him, not a hint of remorse for murdering our perfect son!?

What would Janus do when he realizes that Virgil didn’t love Space because of how cool it was, as much as how vast and distant it was from Earth and everyone he used to know?

Somewhere deep inside of Virgil, he knew that if they live long enough, they’ll return back to Earth. An inevitable ending, a cycle coming to its completion, a prophecy coming to fruition. His stomach rebelled, revolted, rioted at the idea. 

What would Janus’s parents do when they saw him alive? What would they do when they saw him with Virgil? What would they do just to get them apart again?

Back before everything, back when Virgil’s knowledge of the universe had consisted just of school, home, and second-best-at-everything, back when Janus and him had first looked at each other saw their kindred souls-- Janus’s parents had tried to keep them apart. It wasn’t right, they said, for perfect little Janus to hang out with a punk delinquent like Virgil. He would chew Janus up and spit him back out and ruin every plan the Ekans had drawn up for Janus’s future.

Virgil’s ankle had hurt for weeks after the first time they had him thrown out of their pristine mansion on the hill. Janus had been forbidden to leave his house except for school and all of his puppet friends had been gifted loads of money to drag Janus away any time Virgil happened to walk into the room he was in. Virgil’s own parents had said he wasn’t to bother the Ekans kid in school anymore all while buying a new TV for the living room with money they hadn’t had two days prior.

The separation had torn Virgil to shreds, ripped open his ribcage and stabbed his heart fifty million different ways, but that was nothing to how Janus had seemed to shatter under the weight of it; Virgil hadn’t known that life size mannequins existed until he saw Janus walk around school with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and motions so practiced they looked robotic.

And when it came down to it, when all the cards were played, when Virgil stepped back and took a very good look at himself, well….what could he see, but the coward that he was? Virgil didn’t want to do that again, didn’t want to let anyone make them do that again. He didn’t want to see Janus empty and lifeless and he didn’t want Janus to see what his parents had done to Virgil when Janus was gone and he didn’t want to go back and prove to Janus’s parents that they were right and Virgil was completely capable of killing someone in cold blood and--

And is it still running away when no one knows that's what he’s been doing all this time?

Virgil knew how this was destined to end, because it was always destined to end. He wanted to laugh because he really had peaked in high school: the best days of his life had passed by him in a blink and he never even appreciated them as much as he should have. He and Janus were the popular TV show that had been going on too long and now the original meaning of it was lost completely. They were going to be cut from Prime TV. And then they were going to be regulated to DVD box sets where you could get all the episodes on five discs for fifty bucks or forget they had ever existed at all because not even Netflix would bother to pick them up again.

Logan would say he was being dramatic. Catastrophizing.

But Logan also didn’t know what a Wendy’s was or understand why Virgil would often cut class when there was the possibility he could learn things instead. 

Virgil had killed someone before. Multiple times. And sometimes when he gets too jumpy, Roman still places a hand on the hilt of his sword out of caution, or when he snaps too hard Patton flinches back, or when he bares his teeth Logan starts dancing with multicolored lights to calm him down by any means possible. Virgil is dangerous to be around.

Why hadn’t the Welsors gotten that memo so long ago? Why didn't they just leave him alone?

He sucked in a painful, heavy, desperate breath, holding it in his shaky pleading lungs until he thought his ears were going to pop. His mouth tasted bad; everything tasted bad, felt bad, thought bad.

Virgil squeezed his eyes closed, counting one mississippi, two mississippi, three-- until he saw bright stars on the back of his eyelids. He breathed out, and forced himself to feel his own warm exhale on his skin. Goosebumps rode down his numb arms and prickled over his shoulders. 

He counted.

The floor. The rug. His shirt. His skin. The late- night-early-morning chill of the ship. 

He opened his eyes, holding on to the steady center in the middle of his chest. His room in the ship, his private spot, the area that no one else came into unless they had permission from Virgil himself. The shadows on his ceiling that looked like demons if he stared too long. The lump of blankets that he had torn off the bed in his nightmare. The rounded dresser with a flat top where he kept half a dozen alien plants-- some of which were glowing faintly now in like nightlights to scare away the monsters under his bed.

Virgil was okay. He was safe.

It wasn’t real. 

He winced as he tried to curl in on himself and push into a sitting position. His head felt heavy, swamped with so many thoughts that the physical weight of them made him sway dangerously. His lungs protested faintly with the motion, but he was getting air in them finally, so they couldn’t complain too much. It was an improvement to the previous five minutes, right?

Right?

It hadn’t been real. 

Virgil reached out only partially blindly and grabbed the corner of his bed to haul himself onto his shaky legs. His head swam again, his knees threatened to buckle except wasn’t really a threat because they did give in a little and Virgil let out hiss of a curse as he threw out his other arm on the soft mattress to hold himself upright. The air was cooler, chillier, crisper, in a way that made Virgil’s own shallow exhales feel like the warmest thing for lightyears.

Part of him wished desperately that Janus would be there, on the other half of his bed, curled up around himself like he used to back on the best nights of their lives. Janus had always moved so little in his sleep, while Virgil sprawled out and took up as much space as he could.

“Like a liquid,” Janus had huffed once, and it had taken Virgil most of the morning to figure out that his tone had been amused, almost fond. Like they were joking. Like they were friends. And Virgil had gotten so distracted by it that he had started scribbling “Virgil Ekans” in the margins of his Chemistry notes like another brainwashed zombie that subscribed to the “Janus can do no wrong” theory.

(Which was a theory that Virgil had seen disproven so, so many times before. Janus had even told him out right that it was a lie, with dead eyes and a toneless voice.)

But Janus ran warm, and Virgil found himself unbearably cold all of a sudden. 

He wanted, randomly, surprisingly, unbelievably, to climb back into bed and inch over the tiny bit of space that might have been between them and throw an arm around Janus’s waist. He wanted to cuddle up against Janus’s back, and rest his head against his shoulder blades, pressing light sleepy kisses into Janus’s neck and maybe waking him just enough to hear his soft content sighs at the contact.

He wanted it so bad it made his eyes wet. Oh god, was he really that pathetic? A single nightmare and he wanted to go press up against another human, wake him from his sleep-- which Janus needed because God knows what he went through having been in Space for a whole year longer than Virgil ever had to be, not to mention he was still healing from the horrors of the Pol’tur ship so yeah, Janus needed sleep much more than Virgil did. Which meant that Virgil was being pathetic and selfish.

His feet planted themselves on his floor, and he reminded himself three times in a row that the rocking of the ship was familiar and manageable before he let go of his bed and stood on his own. Another shaking breath rocked his lungs and he told himself that there was no dust in the air.

His couple alien flora that resided across the room glowed faintly. Patton told him the name of them once, but he had forgotten it when Patton’s large bug eyes had gotten misty and he’d mentioned that his mother used to have them all over their home back on his planet.

((A planet that no longer exists, because one of their stars had died and it had taken out his planet and three more in the unexpected implosion.))

Virgil hated seeing the Reytin so sad so he avoided bringing up the plants, and tried to keep Patton out of his room as much as possible. 

Virgil took another breath. Then he bent down and picked up the blankets from the floor and tossed them back on his bed. There was an exhaustion in his limbs, a haggarding, wailing type of tired that Virgil recognized: so tired that he couldn’t even sleep. His body ached but it was an ache that could easily be mistaken for bruises and cuts. His skin prickled when he ran a hand over the feathered down of his blankets (there was a name for that too, but Virgil didn’t remember it either) because even though it was completely different from a sandy dirt floor, his brain kept screaming it was made of dust and get it off get it off get it off-- 

Virgil’s breath hitched for a moment when he closed his eyes, a flash of blood and limp limbs and well, Virgil decided right then and there that he probably could survive without blinking for the rest of his life, right? He nearly flopped right back to the floor, as he scoured for his boots-- or really any shoes at all, because anything was better than nothing at all.

((They had taken his shoes when they took him off Earth, which was almost silly, almost hilarious, almost comical. They sold for 450 griot-- which was more than Virgil himself had gone for. He wondered vaguely, if they were still out there, sitting in some alien collector’s hall of treasures. If they were, they were probably in better shape than Virgil was.))

Shoes on. Virgil breathed for another moment and then started towards the door again in measured calculated steps. He was okay. He was okay. He was okay.

Maybe if he told himself it enough it would become true. 

Virgil thought maybe he had read a science experiment about it. Maybe in a psychology class? Virgil barely remembered anything else from it, because he had it right after lunch and the teacher liked to play movies and spending late nights sneaking into and early mornings out of a mansion were mentally taxing.

If one repeated something often enough they started to believe it, right?

He was okay. He was safe. Everything was great. He was happy. 

But then again science wasn’t always right. After all Janus had practiced a smile in the mirror for seventeen years and told everyone who would listen how happy he was and that had turned out to be a huge fucking lie.

Virgil grabbed the handle of the door and eased it open. He never quite got used to the near silentness of the ship’s doors. The Fighting Rings had been loud all the time: the metal doors clanged and rattled when they shut or swung open and the Welsors who kept them in line were a fan of taking their metal batons to the bars as they walked by and watching their participants cower back from them. The arena gates were heavy and controlled by chains that rumbled and clanged when they moved. When they shut it was with a finality of a judge’s hammer and Virgil never stopped feeling like he was never going to see the other side of the stone walls again. 

Compared to that, the soft slide of his door was unbelievably quiet. It was just another reason, another symbol, another example of how he was here and not there and he was alright and okay and happy.

And his nightmare hadn’t been real.

The lights were dim and red, a setting that appealed to Erefrens like Roman more than Virgil, but at least it wasn’t blinding. The air was warmer here than in his room; Virgil breathed it in as he moved out of his room with unperceptive footsteps.

He was okay. They were okay.

Janus was alive and breathing and fine.

Virgil’s feet took him in that direction anyway.

Roman’s ship had always been made for more than just the four of them. Per Erefren customs they usually had… packs? Logan called it a different word but their game of charades hadn’t been as fruitful as others. It wasn’t like families because it didn’t have to be by blood, or acquaintances because they were closer than that, or teams because it wasn’t a competition-- Virgil had given up back then in a fit of frustration that came from trying to learn Common for too many hours straight. And then he had never gone back to try again. He did know that Roman considered Logan and Patton part of his “pack” and maybe Virgil too, but there was a ritual ceremony that was required and Virgil hadn’t undergone it yet for one reason or another.

The Mindscape, Roman’s beloved ship and their home, was meant to be run by an entire Erefren pack, so maybe seven aliens with bones plates and long weaponizable tails.

The extra rooms on the ship had previously been used for storage if they were used at all. Virgil felt a little bad about how he had clung to Janus when they got him and Remus back on their ship which had forced Logan and Patton to clean two rooms for their guests while Roman piloted them to the next star system and out of danger.

Virgil knew the ship like the back of his hand. Inside and out and every nook and cranny. He knew the halls like his own veins, the rooms like his own limbs. He could navigate his way through it with his eyes closed. When Logan was first teaching him to speak Common, he had called the ship "home" and Virgil had thought that was fair, that was nice, that was the most accurate name for the place they all lived and loved.

He knew all the crawl spaces on it, the hidey-holes, the moveable wall panels. He knew the layout of the floor map, that while impractical made sense with the way Roman’s personality was. He had memories stacked on top of memories of each room that grounded into him as he ran his fingers over the walls: this was where he had yawned in front of Roman and Roman had almost skewered him with his light sword, this is where Patton had first dropped down from the rafters on Virgil’s shoulders in a surprise hug and scared the living daylights out of him, this was where Virgil had found Logan stumbling around so sleep deprived he couldn’t find his own room, this was where Virgil first realized that they were serious when they said they wouldn’t force him to go back to Earth. This was where the space pirates Remus had sent after them had caught Patton and nearly killed him. This was where Roman and Virgil had wordlessly teamed up and obliterated said space pirates and Logan had to talk Virgil out of the resulting panic attack while trying to stop the blood flow from Patton’s unconscious body. 

This was where Roman first explained who the hell Remus was: his crazy, insane sibling who thought that killing each other was a fun entertainment when they were bored.

Virgil slunk down the hall like a shadow, almost quieter than one, too. Janus’s door was in the middle of the hall, nondescript, and plain. Virgil bit his lip looking at it. His hand trailed over the polyfurnish: smooth and sleek and only penetrable by one of Roman’s lazer light swords or a blaster set on high and the marks of both weapons would have been obvious on it, unmissable, unmistakable.

The door wasn’t locked, though. Part of Virgil wondered if that was a leftover habit: something Janus got from leaving his window unlocked every night while waiting for Virgil to steal his way into the house that never would have welcomed him otherwise. The other part of him was chanting about how stupid that was, how insane it was, how self destructive it was. Didn’t he know he couldn’t trust anything in Space not to try and kill him simply because he was a Deathworlder and aliens had been taught to kill first and ask questions never?

But Janus’s door was unlocked and Virgil swallowed the apprehension in his throat and let his stomach acids dissolve it. It was just a peek-- something to get his heartbeat to slow down and to make his blood soften and help his brain shut up. Even in the darkness, in the pale red light brought in from the hall, Virgil could make out Janus’s lumpy form on the bed, curled up in the smallest ball he can make and snoring softly.

At least that about him hadn’t changed. 

Virgil watched Janus’s chest rise and fall several even times, counting the infinities between each breath like he was seventeen still and they were lying on Janus’s huge ass bed and he was still trying to find a name for the feeling in his gut. He felt a bit like he slipped back in time, like if he pinched the inside of his wrist he’d wake up from this dream and they’d be back on Earth and the past two years would have been nothing but the most horrid nightmare Virgil’s brain could whip up, like if he reached out and gently brushed against Janus, he’d wake up, and he’d know exactly what to do to help Virgil forget about aliens and Space and blood under his nails and---

And then he remembered that watching people sleep was generally frowned upon, regardless of if they were... whatever they were. Virgil closed the door as quickly and quietly as he could and turned around facing the hall, forcing himself to breathe, and then to breathe again, and he didn’t dare close his eyes.

Janus was alive. He was okay.

Virgil was not, but did that really matter?

He clenched his fingers into fists and opened them again several times, and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. It was only a few feet taller than him, slated with polyfurnish grates that Patton liked to dance along when he was rushing around the ship or climb into when he was having a bad day. He half expected to see the bug eyes of the Reytin sleepily peeking down at him, summoned by his barely concealed negative emotions-- and was incredibly grateful that he didn't. Both because he didn’t want to have to even try to explain what he was doing up and wondering or why he was feeling so bad right now, and because if Patton was there Virgil knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back a terrified scream which no doubt would wake everyo--

CLA-THUNK! 

Before Virgil could even think, his body was launching itself against the doorway to Janus’s room like he could hide his entire body from someone being in the hall. The noise echoed through the interior of the ship, ringing and echoing and it almost drowned out the screech of Virgil’s mind: it was the unmistakable sound of someone dropping something on the floor. 

Something heavy, something decently big: Virgil’s brain immediately screamed that it was a body bag, a corpse, one of his friends being abducted from their rooms by a shadow ambush and he had to do something now or he was never going to see Logan/Roman/Patton/Janus again--

His breath stilled in his stone lungs, holding for a long quisannu, two, three, four, until his vision danced with spots and his knees threatened to send him down to the ground again. There was no other noise, which was more terrifying to him than anything else: no lithe footsteps that belong to Patton sneaking a late night cookie, no slithery sound of Roman’s tail slipping down the hall after him on the way to an impromptu coordinate check, so ch-tchkk of Logan’s crystalline body working the joints when he paced while doing some free reading at the late hour.

Virgil’s back pressed against the door pushing it as delicately as he could because the last thing he wanted was Janus waking up and opening the door just to have Virgil tumble back into him and then have to explain why he was pale and shaky and creeping around in the middle of the night like someone who was hiding something and keeping secrets and generally being a terrible whatever-they-were.

His heart hammered in his chest, jumping up to his throat and pounding in his ears. His brain whirled through a million different scenarios, different explanations, different excuses and all of them made his stomach attempt to revolt. Nausea welded up in his senses, burning until he was sure that his mouth was pooling with blood and there was Dust under his nails and if he opened his eyes again he’d see the fighting arena that he was beginning to think he never actually escaped.

The hall was empty.

Virgil breathed out a sigh, an exhale that was barely audible to his own ears. His heartbeat stuttered and slowed and limbs unfroze like fast melting glaciers. He pressed his shaky hands to his chest, holding them there.

It was his imagination. His brain made it up.

There was nothing out there and no one was awake other than him. And Virgil shouldn’t even be awake!

He was being paranoid. He was jumpy and nervous and a mess because of one nightmare and a little bit of guilt over some words that Virgil wasn’t sure how to put into the air yet. (It probably needed to be like a bandaid, right? Virgil should just rip it off and Janus would understand because that’s what Janus did best.) Virgil was freaking out over nothing at all and needed to chill. 

He was fine. It wasn’t real.

But then his eyes followed the dull floor lights to the junction at the left and he swore that a shadow passed in front of one, just for a minsannu, just for a blink. So quick Virgil would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking.

 And the fragile reality that Virgil built around himself practically collapsed on itself. His fingers dug into the wall, a lump in his throat made it hard to breathe again. 

There was someone awake and they weren’t Virgil and Virgil was not ready to admit that he was having nightmares like a child.

Which meant that he should sprint back down the halls back to his room before that someone found him here and he had to explain that he’s so pitiful that now his skin itched in a way he couldn’t get rid of and there was blood and dirt under his nails that no one else could see. It meant that Virgil should hide himself away and stare at his plants until the phisannu became reasonable, maybe even go back to sleep if he could convince his brain that no one was going to die in the safety of the ship right now.

It meant that Virgil shouldn’t creep out to the middle of the hall and stalk his way after the shadow. Whoever it was, was probably someone who also had a nightmare and likely they wouldn’t want company, considering they had done a great job of going unnoticed thus far. 

Goosebumps rose up all along his arms and his legs and pretty much anywhere he could get goosebumps. For a minsannu, it felt like he was in a well rendered horror video game, stumbling blindly into the jaws of an unknown horror that would devour him in a way that would splatter blood all across the walls. Virgil bit his lip so hard he tasted dust. By the time he made it to the junction he saw the shadow pass over, whoever it was had passed down another hall. Although there wasn’t much light, the movements were fluid and quiet: so very different from even Patton’s most subdued frog like hops. 

Virgil darted after it again.

Maybe it was Roman, although Roman didn’t tend to leave his room when he was upset; he spent so little time in his room as compared to everywhere else, it made sense to stay there when he wasn’t feeling 100%. Or it could have been Logan, whose calmness could only be broken by a particularly bad spiral of thoughts and he would seek out the observation deck.

But if that was the case why was he heading for the Transport room?

Virgil stuttered in his step at the realization, freezing all the way down to his fragile bones. Janus was in his room. Patton didn't move like that. Roman and Logan had no reason to skulk their way to the Transport room in the middle of the night.

But Virgil, ever the idiot, had forgotten one tiny, itty bitty detail about this ship: there were six people on it. 

Six people, because Remus was on the ship as well. 

The same Remus who had a longstanding habit of trying to kill Roman and his friends, which now included Logan, Patton, and Virgil. The same Remus who had put together an ambush not too long ago that nearly got Patton stabbed through both his hearts and his eyes, the same Remus who delighted in bloodshed so much that he had been grinning all those weeks ago when he had sent the SOS to Roman for help. The same Remus who Virgil hadn't seen more than a glimpse of the entire time because he hadn't stayed in the medical bay for more than five minutes and had since been causing trouble for Roman everywhere else in the ship. 

The same Remus who Virgil had an extremely hard time believing was wandering around in the night for any benevolent reason.

What was in the Transport room? Virgil bit on his lip as he walked forward, light on his toes and making barely a sound. There were the transport watches that Logan treated with utmost care. A few escape pods for emergencies on that point of the ship. The computer interface that was linked to the bridge so that the coordinates of the ship could be shared free--

Wait.

Virgil sucked in a breath, trying not to curse out loud. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Remus he was there. Virgil's not an idiot--or at least not an idiot about this. Remus was dangerous and chaotic and cared about less than nothing. Roman said once that Remus wasn't happy unless he was covered in blood and that it didn't matter whose blood it was.

In a fight, there was no way that Virgil could take on Remus by himself. Erefrens were raised in a war based society that prided themselves on fighting techniques. If Remus was anything like Roman he'd always have a one up on Virgil, regardless of his deathworlder status and flight-or-flight instincts.

And Remus likes to fight dirty, messy, cruelly. From what Roman said.

In a Transport room late at night? With no one to supervise him?

The number of things he could be doing outnumbered the stars in all the galaxies, and Virgil was decently sure he wasn't exaggerating this time. If Remus was hanging out in the Transport room he'd know their coordinates and directions and it would be incredibly easy for him to contact any number of upsetting individuals to intercept them: pirates, mercenaries, species collectors that were never satisfied, serial killers with a taste for something new, government officials who would declare Virgil and Janus too dangerous to live or worse, send them back to Earth. 

Virgil moved slowly, dreading every step as he crept closer to the Transport room. He hugged the wall as he moved, carefully keeping his ears open for literally any noise that might give him a warning to what might be coming.

At first glance the Transport room door was closed. If Virgil had been walking around mostly sleep deprived and not on the lookout for anything out of place he wouldn’t have even noticed it. But there was a slim crack where it was open. Just enough for Virgil’s slim fingers to fit through it, just enough for Erefren claws, just enough for it to look closed and for it to be opened silently. 

There was no noise coming from inside: no soft voices, no evil laughter that Virgil had always imagined Remus liked to do. There wasn’t even the hum of the computer mainframe running, or footsteps that said someone was walking around.

Just a peek, Virgil told himself. To prove that Remus really was awake and had gone in there. To make sure that his family was safe. To show himself he wasn’t crazy.

He took another breath and slid the door open another inch.

The room was empty. Virgil hovered just to the right of the crack for a quisannu, with his heart beating in his throat. His eyes darted around the soft red lit room, and he tried his best not to think of all the horror movies where the crewmate that walked into the room alone died a horrible gruesome death and the flesh eating alien devoured his corpse. Air was silent and unmoving he watched the deepened maroon shadows for a sign that something was in them, something watching him, something biding time, something just a few breaths from fixing all of Virgil’s issues with a clean swipe of a bone plate across his throat.

It was…actually empty?

Virgil wedged his fingers in the crack more and slid the door all the way to the right, wincing when it rumbled slightly. In the thunderous quiet of the night, it sounded like a scream to his brain, and Virgil grit his teeth and rubbed the blood on his hand on his thigh because it wasn’t real and he needed to get a grip.

Virgil took a cautious step into the room, carefully keeping his feet light and the sound imaginary. He knew someone came in here, right? He didn’t just imagine the shadows skulking down the hall and disappearing in here, didn’t just misremember this door being usually closed, didn’t lose his mind while standing outside the door of his-- of Janus’s room. 

He, himself, hadn’t been in here since they had gotten back from the Pol’tur ship, bleeding and overwhelmed with emotions beyond the human capabilities of actually feeling them. The console that Logan usually manned hummed with low level power, still in stand-by mode until they needed it again, their watches were in their charging pads, the closet of their armored clothes was closed. The emergency escape pods were still locked in place. 

There was no sign of what could have made the noise, no sign of anyone having come in here, no sign of anything out of place. Virgil blew out a breath from his mouth, untensing his shoulders. There was nothing in here, certainly nothing that shouldn’t be there. 

He was just on edge from his nightmare. Seeing things. Letting his paranoid thoughts take over and drive him to acting impulsively.

Yeah. That.

But other than that he was fine!

Everything was fine. 

Virgil rocked on his heels, and wiped his sweating, clammy hands on his thighs. He gave the room one more look and then turned around because it was far too late to be up and his heart was still beating too loud and if he hung around here for much longer he was going to lose his min---

Wait.

Virgil froze and swiveled back on his heel towards the corner where they kept some various travel bags-- to go bags for if they needed to abandon ship, raid bags for when they needed to teleport onto other ships and take back something that was stolen, day bags for when they landed on a planet and needed to go get supplies. 

Virgil had been the one to suggest the ready made bags. He was the one who put them together and set them up and organized them-- it had given him something productive to do before he could articulate in Common to the others that he had hobbies. Logan had helped him, in the beginning, when Virgil was unfamiliar with a Skrad healing pad and how it worked, or with the ration packs, or what the hell a griot looked like. 

Virgil had made and maintained all the bags.

So why was there an extra one there?

Virgil took a tentative step towards it, then another, and another until he was right beside the extra bag. It wasn’t anything super fancy. In fact, it looked like one of Roman’s older bags. Lost and forgotten in the mess that was the Erefren’s room.

((Virgil had found, funnily enough, that Roman collected bags almost as much as swords. He had a bag for every occasion, bedazzled and personalized and made to fit around his bone plates while keeping up with the latest fashion trends from every solar system they visited. When Logan had explained that Virgil was attempting to put together prepared travel bags he had been hesitant, but then had gotten excited to show off his amazing collection. Virgil had never seen so many bags before in his life-- and that included the time Janus shoved him into his mother’s walk in closet to hide him for a minsannu when they were stealing blue grey towels to dry themselves off after an impromptu late night swimming lesson.))

The bag itself was worn and a deep blue, like a gym duffle bag but made out of some fabric that felt to Virgil’s fingers like a heavy flannel. It was filled, nearly bulging and the awkward shape of it had made the shadow that caught Virgil’s eye in the first place. He cautiously kicked it with his foot, skidding back a step in case whatever was inside it was actually alive and going to eat him and oh god that would be the worst way to go-- he could see it already, the lumpy creature being some type of Sblorp and it would sink its crosshair fangs directly into Virgil’s throat, cutting off a scream before it could get out and his blood would splatter all over the walls, the floor the ceiling and the last thing he’d see before he died would be the creepy eyes of it staring down at him, not a hint of remorse and it would probably be fitting because that was how six other aliens had died under Virgil’s shaky han--

The bag did not move. Virgil reached up his left hand and rubbed his neck, trying to get rid of the phantom feeling of blood and pain and didn’t actually exist because he was fine and it wasn’t real.

He took another breath and he was mostly certain the copper taste on his tongue was only in his head.

“I’m going to regret this,” Virgil said, as softly as he could.

And then he snuck back to the bag and knelt down beside it. He took another breath and then he grabbed the zipper and yanked it back.

The bag had… a lot of things. Virgil frowned as he took a mental inventory and shifted through the items with careful hands. He thought he vaguely recognized the stuff in it from around the ship: an interspace nook that they normally kept in the Comms room, a pocket light knife that must have wandered away from Roman’s collection, rations from the kitchen that probably wouldn’t be missed on account of how old they were, one of the throw blankets from the common area that Virgil actually had noticed was missing but thought Patton had just taken it to be cleaned again, a bottle of some alien drink that Virgil had seen stuffed away in the back of Logan’s lab which Virgil had never seen him actually drink from and had never asked what it was. There were clothes, too, although in the darkness Virgil couldn’t make out if they Roman’s or Logan’s or his own. 

It was… Virgil sat back on his haunches for a moment. 

Oh. He knew what this was.

He’d had one before. 

It wasn’t an emergency bag like he thought. It was a Go bag. As in “escape and never look back” bag, as in “I don’t feel safe here” bag, as in “you won’t notice I’ve stolen anything until I’m gone and by then you’ll never find me again” bag.

Which meant that Virgil needed to go now because he really didn’t want to know what would happen if he got caught all by himself in the middle of the night, in an area of the ship that no one ever comes to unless necessary and poking at a bag he most likely shouldn’t know exists because people who have this type of bag tended to--

And just as he had the thought, something heavy and powerful wrapped around his throat and dragged him up into the air. Virgil’s mouth opened for a scream, but there was a quick jab to his gut and all the air in his lungs escaped and left him frantically gasping. His feet swung violently in the void but there was nothing to kick against and his fingers clawed at the tail squeezing around his windpipe but the leathery skin was thicker than his nails and the jagged bone plates threatened to break skin along with his neck and fix that breathing problem he had permanently. 

"Oh?" said an all-too-calm voice from above him, hiding in the fucking rafters like a Reytin.

Virgil gasped desperately for air, as black dots danced in his vision, panic stealing all rational thought from him. His lungs screamed almost as loudly as his brain was: pleading and crying and screeching for help that wasn't going to come because he was the idiot that didn't bother to wake any of the others. "Wait! P-please!”

The tail around his neck felt like a noose, tightening and he wasn’t sure if his neck was going to be able to remain unbroken for much longer against the gravity of the ship. 

“Re...mus!” Virgil begged.

Remus Prince, the Erefren who was responsible for setting several ambushes on them, for sending space pirates to nearly kill them, for stealing and pillaging and murdering most of the way through this galaxy and the next, just smiled down at him from where he was lounging completely unconcerned. "Why, hello there! The other Deathworlder! I've been meaning to get you all alone!"

His grin was filled with sharp teeth and Virgil kicked his feet harder for something, anything that would give him purchase.

“Now,” Remus continued. “Why don’t we have a nice, friendly chat!”

[Part 2]

[1kook]

acatalepsy

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

chapter summary; The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway. overall warnings; gorey scenes, depictions of death, appearance of weapons, survival!au, apocalypse!au, super l o o s e bird box!au (no birds - jk is the bird 👀), eventual smut, dark and angsty, major character death chapter specifics; nudity, mentions of masturbation, unreal levels of horniness from jungkook, mentions of death, 1 fight scene, use of weapons, jungkook abusing tf outta pet names, loads of pessimistic jungkook word count; 10k

notes; as always ty to my amazing editor rumu 🥺<333 this part isn't as dark as part one, but anyway enjoy in love but on edge jungkook lmao 

part one ⇠ part two ⇢ part three (soon!)

[ twelve months later]

“Rise and shine!” Taehyung sings, ripping the flap of his tent open for the world (the base) to see, sunlight filtering in through the gap like the trickling of water over a brook. Satisfied with the disruption, Taehyung flounces off to wake another poor soul from their sleep, leaving Jungkook to fend against the rays of the sun by himself. There’s a breeze this morning, one that makes the flimsy flaps bristle with each gush of wind, sunlight roving over him in intervals that leave Jungkook groaning in annoyance.

He can only stand it for so long, eventually rolling off his sleeping bag when he hears more voices outside beginning to grunt, the pop of bones as people do their morning stretches. With a final yawn, Jungkook decides to show his face to the outside world, stumbling out of his tent with sleep crusted eyes that have him bumping into a kid first thing in the morning, a slew of apologies thrown his way.

“Sorry, Jungkook!” The group of them call, skirting off in a fit of giggles. Jungkook waves them off, stretching his arms out in front of him as he waits for Namjoon to wake up.

The man in the tent next door is usually pretty good at rising before Taehyung’s wake up call, more often than not waiting for Jungkook. Today, however, is seemingly an off day. Five minutes roll by and Jungkook's patience is as long as his pinky— short. Such is proven when he barges into the tent only to find Namjoon sprawled out like a starfish inside.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his foot against the unconscious man’s calf. “Joon, we gotta go if you wanna get the good spot by the river.” More silence. Eventually, Jungkook gets mean and leans down to pinch his side, an action that not only wakes Namjoon, but also has him squealing at the touch.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he gasps, scrambling far away from Jungkook in a frenzied rush. Only after he’s knocked over his plastic bottle and the makeshift twig drying rack he dries his clothes and towel on does he calm down. “Oh, Kook. It’s you.”

Jungkook nods, eyes struggling to stay awake. “Yes, it is I, Jungkook, who would love to take a bath before __ yells at me for being late to breakfast again.”

Namjoon grunts as he gets up, taking his towel and day clothes with him as they exit his tent. At the creek, Jungkook drops his boxers—one of the four he owns and wears on rotation—and has to endure three minutes of Seokjin catcalling him. Him and some other fellow are guarding the creek bed today, guns cradled against their chests as Jungkook, Namjoon, and a few more people crawl into the water.

When Jungkook had first arrived, the thought of bathing with so many people made him uncomfortable. His nude form wasn’t something he went around showing everyone, and now he was expected to just show it to a bunch of strangers? Even worse, the people who stood guard against the river, eyes peeled for any potential threats. It all made him very nervous.

Now Seokjin’s calculated expression as he glances over the treeline behind them comforts Jungkook. The world was weird like that.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook groans, the same way he does every other day they bathe, muscles jumping at the cold water that tickles his toes. He sighs as he walks deeper into the freezing coldness. He rinses himself off, half heartedly splashing his body with water; at its deepest it only reaches above his knee.

Namjoon is off today, probably from the extended watch they had last night, eyes scanned over the dark forest as they waited for you and some other people to return from a scavenging trip that took about three days. It was just before dawn when you returned and his replacements relieved them of their duties. When they sit down to wash their hair, he nearly falls face first into Jungkook’s knee.

Jungkook cackles at the sight, trying to pretend like his nipples aren’t freezing as he fully envelopes himself in the water. “You alright, man?” He asks, running his fingernails through his hair. A couple of the people bathing further down the creek get up and leave, dressing by the bank. He knew they were a little late today, but Jesus, were they fast or what?

Namjoon nods, and the poor guy doesn’t even have the energy to defend himself when Jungkook childishly slaps a wave of water his way. “Just tired,” he admits, beginning to wash his own hair. With most of the people finished, Seokjin lets the other guard go early, leaving just the three of them at the creek.

“Hurry it up, ladies,” Seokjin calls, and Jungkook is only a little disappointed that his splash doesn’t reach him all the way over by his perch.

Luckily, before he can retort, there’s a silkier voice drifting through his ears, one that immediately makes every hair on his body stand straight. “What are you trying to say about ladies, Seokjin?” You ask as you come up behind him, and Jungkook is immediately flooded with warmth at your early morning appearance. Seokjin flounders for an answer you pay no mind to, eyes snapping to where Jungkook is instead.

“Need you at the armory in five, Kook,” you tell him, and he wonders if you know the way your voice makes his chest pound.

Pushing those juvenile thoughts away, Jungkook quickly slaps on a goofy grin for you. “Oh? You hear that, boys? Our great leader needs some alone time with me,” he boasts, and Namjoon rolls his eyes at his antics.

“She’d rather choke than be with a pleb like you,” Seokjin snorts, finally dropping his guard stance as Namjoon and him get out of the water. “Jesus, Kook—again?” He groans, covering your eyes with his rifle as Jungkook stands up, half-hard boner and all.

He’s grown used to it, the occasional hard on he gets in the water, like he’s some superhuman who’s developed immunity to the usual effects of cold water on a hard dick. But he can’t help it, it’s been over a year since he last got his dick wet, and being disgustingly in love with a woman who didn’t know certainly didn’t help. “What’s wrong?” You frown, hand wrapping around the barrel of Seokjin’s gun that blocks your vision.

Namjoon tosses him his towel, and he’s just knotted it around his waist when you catch his eye again, unimpressed as usual. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he teases, turning his body away from you as he shimmies his clothes on. He can still feel your glare on his exposed backside, but living in Oleander has made him comfortable in his birthday suit, so he really doesn’t mind. When he’s halfway dressed, pant legs haphazardly stuffed into the big, chunky boots Namjoon had brought back for him once, he turns around, shirt tossed over his bare shoulder, to follow you back to the base.

“And you’re requesting my presence so early in the morning, why?” He hums, toweling his hair dry as the two of you finally reach Oleander. There’s significantly more people milling about now, kids playing a game of soccer in the middle of the grounds, while others travel to and from the mess hall. There’s a wonderful scent emanating from the mess hall’s open front, and Jungkook wishes desperately you’ll lead him there instead.

You don’t, politely bidding people good morning until you reach the door to the armory, waving Jungkook in. “Needed you,” you explain, clattering around the space in search for something. The armory has gotten some pretty good upgrades in the past year he’s been here, graduating from a shabby box to full on storage container. It took a while to get it to this size, the wood working process more difficult than any of them thought, but they were all proud of it now.

Over the past year, Oleander has grown in size, a fact which causes great turmoil in Jungkook. On one hand, he’s glad he and the others have been able to save more people, take them under their wings in this scary new world. On the other, he feels like he’s always on edge.

It was a known fact that the entity was drawn to established civilizations, and with each new person that joined, Jungkook is left wondering what exactly that means. The last he heard, they were sitting somewhere near one hundred seventy. That was about one hundred more than when he first arrived. Was there some unknown number they had to avoid? Would the entity sense their presence once they reached two hundred residents, deem them an established society that needed wrecking?

He doesn’t know. They’ve been lucky enough so far, never having been caught by the entity on Oleander grounds. But other groups of scavengers hadn’t. Despite their growing numbers, they’ve lost people as well. Some they knew were caught up by neighboring bases—the Magnolians in particular, who killed on sight—and would return in groups smaller than when they were dispatched. Others never returned at all, presumably infected with the madness.

Nonetheless, Oleander continued to grow. They weren’t a spattering of tents and loose rules anymore, erecting more shabbily constructed buildings along the way. Like a privacy room for a pregnant woman they’d found and another small storage for the vegetables they began growing last fall.

Jungkook groans as he settles into a seat across from you, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You level him with an unamused glare, tossing a dirt-caked bullet at him. He catches it in one hand, twirls the bronzed metal between his fingers. “What happened to the quiet guy who couldn’t even look me in the eye?” You huff, pulling up a crate to sit before him.

Jungkook squints at the bullet, finally catching sight of an engraved brand name he’s almost certain they don’t have. “Life,” he murmurs absentmindedly. “Where did you get this?” He asks, finally glancing back at you.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, and he’s come to learn you do this one of two times: one when you’re feeling especially confident, unconsciously garnering everyone’s attention with such a pose, and the other when something is bothering you. Judging by the quirk of your lips, Jungkook guesses it’s the latter.

“Found it on our way back,” you relay, huffing as you recall the memory. Jungkook raises a brow at the news, gesturing for you to elaborate. “By the mouth of the creek.”

That’s a couple miles away, he thinks, sitting back in his seat in a pose that mimics yours. He and Taehyung had spent an entire day following the creek behind the base, traced it miles out until they’d reached a larger river that Jungkook only barely remembered learning about in high school geography. A river meant fish, a revelation that had excited them both after eating nothing but canned foods for the past few months. Of course, you hadn’t been as thrilled when they returned to base hours later, having left without telling anyone. He still remembers the watery sheen to your eyes as you had cursed them to hell and back.

“Our creek?” He asks, just to make sure, and you confirm with a nod. “Damn,” he scoffs, rubbing a hand over his chin in a habit he picked up from Hobi. “We gotta go check it out.”

The handful of bases they stumbled upon this past year were far and few between. Most times, you, their leader, would approach any camps you saw first and meet with their respective leader. They hardly ever interacted with you again, because there was always that looming sense of competition between survivor camps like yours.

In fact, the only group Jungkook could think of that blatantly went out of their way to cause problems was the one that had so lovingly almost beat him to death when he was at his lowest: Magnolia. It feels like a lifetime ago.

You agree. “That’s what I was thinking,” you sigh, raising to your feet. “But I don’t wanna risk anyone getting hurt if it is dangerous, y’know?”

He follows after you, leaning against a folding table he and the guys snatched off some lawn during their last scavenge. A bitch to carry back, but it was definitely worth it. “Yeah, keep it small,” he suggests, running through a list of all their active scavengers in his head. “Maybe five?”

You shake your head, nibbling your lip nervously. “Too risky. I was thinking less.”

“Less?” Jungkook chokes. “Babe, you can’t send a smaller group than that, that’s suicide.” Never mind the fact he and Taehyung had been completely okay with dallying off like that just a few months ago. Semantics Jungkook refuses to acknowledge. “Besides, I don’t think anyone would volunteer for that.”

You glance at him for a moment, and he can visibly see your brain working overtime, before you’re turning away with a determined look on your face. “Listen,” you sigh, hands flat on the table. Jungkook peers down at your twisted features. “I’m not asking anyone to volunteer,” you explain. “I’ll go.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Like hell you will,” he retorts. “And when those fuckers catch you all alone and kill you?” You don’t say a word, lower lip caught between your teeth as you glare down at the bullet.

“Then you move on,” you finally breathe. “Get a new leader. Probably move the camp.”

Jungkook could gouge his eyes out. “Babe, what,” he stresses. “No. You’re not gonna go on a mission like that alone.”

Finally turning away from whatever trance the bullet has you in, you cross your arms over your chest. “Really? And what’s stopping me?”

“Me,” he enforces, stepping into your space. “You aren’t gonna go and confront whatever psycho is out there. Baby, do you even realize how reckless that sounds?”

“I do!” You snap. “Which is why I don’t want other people going.” You step away, rub your fingers against your forehead as you lose yourself in an even deeper train of thought.

“Then I'm going too,” Jungkook announces, whirling away before you can tell him no.

A hand catches his shoulder, forcefully tugging him back around. He’s met with your wide eyes, flickering over his face in worry. “Jungkook, now’s not the time to play hero,” you plead.

He scoffs. “Could say the same to you.”

Groaning you push him away. “Please,” you huff. “Just stay here. It’s probably nothing and I’ll come back after sunset.”

“If it’s nothing then I don't see the issue with me going,” he points out. In the back of his head, he’s vaguely aware he’s volunteering himself for the very same plan he claimed no one would volunteer for just a few moments ago. It was crazy what one woman and a thundering heart could do to him. But he’d follow you on a thousand stupid missions if it meant keeping you safe. “When are we leaving?”

To prevent inciting any panic among the Oleanderians over one bullet, the only person you tell about this trip is Hoseok. Jungkook thinks it’s dumb. Actually, Jungkook thinks this whole idea is pretty dumb, and that they could benefit greatly from taking at least one more person along, even if that person was half-asleep Namjoon.

You don’t share the same sentiment as you haul a tiny bag of supplies over his shoulder, gesturing for Jungkook to get moving.

Right as the two of you step off Oleander grounds, Seokjin’s voice comes barreling around the corner. Jungkook sees the noticeable displeasure in your features as the two of you pause, watching the nurse torpedo towards the two of you. “Where are you two going?” He immediately begins interrogating. You glance at Jungkook who only glances back at you, urging you to respond to Jin. Normally, he would’ve told the guy to simply fuck off. But since this is your secret plan he wants to see what lie you’ll toss out this time.

With an indignant roll of your eyes you turn to face the older man. “I’m taking Jungkook out for some practice,” you fib, and Jungkook is a little offended you would even insinuate he needs more practice. “His knee has been hurting again so we wanna take it slow.”

It’s probably the lamest excuse you can give. Seokjin was well aware of the ache in his knee, caused by years of training on the field and torn ligaments that have long since healed over. He knows everything there is to know about Jungkook’s knee, especially the fact it only hurt after a scavenging trip, and as far as he was concerned, Jungkook hadn’t gone on a trip in the past two weeks.

“Uh huh,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook can tell he doesn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth for one second.

At this point, he’s desperate to start down the creek, prove there truly is no harm down there as you suspect, and whisk you back to the O quickly. If that means he has to put the charm on Seokjin, then that’s fine by him.

“Listen, big guy,” Jungkook steps forward, pushing you behind him. “Me and the boss are gonna get some practice,” a greasy wink he’s glad you don’t see, “if you know what I mean. So do me a solid and lay off this once?”

Jungkook’s excuse only makes Seokjin even more wary, but sensing he won’t get a serious answer out of the two of you, he backs off. “Fine,” he agrees, stepping away. He throws a glance over at you, “let me know if this sleaze tries anything with you.”

You nod, tugging Jungkook down towards the creek bed hastily. “Really? That was your best excuse?” You snap with a unbelieving look in your eye. “Another sexual joke?”

Jungkook shrugs. “What can I say? It’s my brand,” he halfheartedly defends, soon falling into step beside you as you hurry alongside the creek bed. He doesn’t see the need to rush, considering this will most likely be a long trip.

It takes about three and half hours to get to the huge river the creek trickles into. The long distance is the main reason fish hadn’t become completely integrated into the mess hall’s admittedly small menu like he and Taehyung had dreamt about. Normally he doesn’t mind the seven hours to and from if he’s with the guys, a scenic walk that’s filled with countless jokes here and there.

With you, however, every nerve in Jungkook’s body is lit ablaze, his thoughts bouncing wildly in his head as the realization he’ll get to spend the whole day with you alone dawns over him.

Despite the fact he’s known you for the past year, there’s still a lot of unknown mystery that surrounds you.

Well, not really a mystery.

Mostly just little things he wants to know about you, the woman who saved him when he was so alone and lost; the woman he feels himself growing more and more enamored with as the days go by.

From what he’s gathered, you were in a master’s program when the entity first appeared, living in a small town just outside the city. You had escaped the entity by sheer luck.

You were on a jog when it happened, you told him, headphones blasting when the calamity hit. Slowly, the world around you had crumbled, people falling victim to the madness and ending their lives before your very eyes. So terrified, you had dropped to the ground in a ball, sobbed to the soundtrack of some Top 50 playlist for hours amidst the dead bodies that littered the streets of your neighborhood. Until, eventually, the entity had left, losing your presence amongst all the death that surrounded you.

This was all something Jungkook had only learned about a few months ago, in a rare moment of vulnerability. That moment had been the only time you had ever laid your heart out like that, shared with him a piece of yourself. Ever since then, he was desperate to learn more.

Not wasting a second longer, Jungkook jumps headfirst into it. “Soooo, what’re we doing for your birthday this year?” He hums, peering down at your features.

You say nothing, eyes glancing furtively through the vast amounts of trees ahead of you for any signs of life. There’s no one out here, a fact both of you know, but he supposes it never hurts to be cautious. “You don’t know my birthday,” you remind him.

“How am I supposed to know it when you hide it away like it’s some mind blowing national secret?” He says cheekily. “I’ll tell you mine. It’s September first.”

Most men would feel discouraged by your lack of interest in the conversation, but not Jungkook. He’s grown used to your aloof exterior, finds it kind of endearing actually. After a moment, you pointedly announce, “Jungkook, I haven’t known what day it is for months now... birthdays practically mean nothing to me.”

“It’s June second,” he says right away, and his confidence surprises you if the way you pause is any indication. He stops beside you, tilts his head at your reluctant gaze.

“How would you know that?” You ask in disbelief, one hand on your hip. The semi-automatic pistol you have strapped to your waist bounces against your thigh. “We haven’t seen a calendar in months, and if we did, we wouldn’t even know what day it was.”

Jungkook shrugs. “It’s mostly just a guess,” he admits, pointing at a patch of pink flowers sprouting near the water. “Oleanders usually bloom at the end of spring. I’m surprised you didn’t know considering you named your little campgrounds after them,” he playfully jabs, crossing his arms over his chest as your eyes trail over toward the pink flowers beside your foot.

His heart falls straight out of his ass when you begin crouching down, fingers outstretched towards the flora. “They’re poisonous, you idiot,” he scolds, yanking you up by the elbow.

Jungkook can count on one hand the moments he’s truly left you flustered, and part of him is a little disappointed that it’s some stupid death flowers that make it onto the list. But your lips are adorably puckered, gaze flickering away from him in embarrassment at your slip up, and Jungkook can’t believe the hammering of his heart. “Oh,” you murmur, and then, impossibly quieter, “sorry.”

He sighs, quiets the thumping in his chest. After a moment, he throws a hand over your shoulders, guiding you back down the creek as if your little moment of stupidity didn’t just happen. “Wow, our brave leader sure is a dummy,” he exclaims, nearly faints at the small smile you hide from him.

“Shut up,” you retort, but there’s no malice in your words and you don’t push Jungkook’s arms away. “I’m bad at remembering which ones are harmful, okay? That’s more down Hoseok’s lane.” It certainly was down Hobi’s lane, considering the man had run a floral business prior to this catastrophe. Jungkook knows he’s the one who gave Oleander its name, at first just as a warning for the younger kids to avoid the flower, but it never hurts to tease you about it.

It’s little things like this that he treasures between the two of you, moments that nestle their way into the cracks of his heart. Not that you’ll ever understand.

The walk to the river ends up being shorter than he remembers, and after a few hours of bantering the tinkling trickle of the creek is replaced with the rapid currents ahead. “Where was it?” He asks, all traces of glee wiped from his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the tree line. He hears your telltale shuffling behind him as you retrace your steps, calculated steps that suddenly come to a halt. “Babe?” He calls out after a moment.

There’s a soft breeze in the air that ruffles his hair. It’s not the gust of wind that precedes the entity, but it still sets Jungkook on edge, hand reaching for his rifle.

A scuffle behind him causes him to whirl around, gun out and pointed at whatever made the sound, only to find you with a gun pressed to your temple. Jungkook swears.

Some guy he’s never seen before holds you captive, gloved palm pressed over your mouth uncomfortably, your hand clutching at his wrist. Jungkook takes comfort in the fact you at least put up a fight, matching the barrel against your forehead with a pistol to the guy’s neck. All in all, it’s pretty even on both ends. Well, not completely, Jungkook thinks, finger tightening on the trigger.

Before he can so much as think, there’s something prodding against his lower back, a low voice purring, “drop it, lover boy,” against his ear.

Knowing when he’s been outdone, Jungkook lowers his arms with a frustrated sigh, letting the guy that snuck up behind him tug the sack you carefully prepared off his shoulders and dump it onto the ground. He catches your gaze, dark eyes seeming to convey a message he doesn’t understand, not the least bit bothered by the man holding you at gunpoint. “Anything good?” The one holding you asks.

The one behind Jungkook steadies the weapon pressed to his back, nudges through the pile on the floor with his foot. “Some snacks, but nothing long lasting.”

The dark haired one cusses, tightening his hold on you. Jungkook wants nothing more than to lunge forward, tear the guy apart for laying his dirty hands on you. “Hey, lover boy,” he barks, and Jungkook’s glare only intensifies. “Where’d you find this stuff?”

Jungkook snorts. “I’m not telling you shit,” he spits, much to their dismay, and Jungkook groans when the one behind him slams the butt of his weapon against the back of his skull, sending him onto his knees. Another flurry of movement, and when his vision clears back up you’ve got your pistol pointed at the man behind Jungkook this time, leaving yourself completely defenseless against your captor. Jungkook curses at your recklessness.

Just once he wants you to put yourself first, value your life the same way he does. Now the both of you are left vulnerable, held at gunpoint by two men presumably from another camp.

“Well,” his attacker leers, “you sure managed to find yourself a good girl out here, huh?”

The second the words leave his mouth Jungkook knows they’re in for a show.

If there was one thing you hated more than anything in this fucked up world, it was being reduced to a man’s accessory. Anyone in Oleander could rave about how great you were—hell, Jungkook did it every chance he got. A lot of the Oleanderians held a lot of respect for you. You were their leader, a title they had pushed onto you until you accepted. To have your grueling efforts, your hard work, brushed aside because of your appearance enraged you like no other.

Just as he predicted, the flame in your gaze grows tenfold, the strength you’d been hiding coming out of the container you usually locked it up in. Your body moves swiftly, knocking back forcefully into your captor before leaning forward, using the hand on his wrist to haul him over your shoulder like a sumo wrestler. Neither of them see it coming, and in his shock, the dark haired one pulls his trigger, a bullet shooting into the ground with a loud crack.

The sound startles Jungkook and the other man but Jungkook capitalizes on their shock first, whirling around to meet the guy’s face for the first time, greeting him with a clenched fist. The intensity of his punch leaves the man recoiling, blindly stumbling back as Jungkook pushes on. When the man falls back, bloody nose and all, Jungkook reaches for his weapon, only to find a steel pipe in its place. Fuck, who were these conmen?

Eventually Jungkook corners him against the base of a tree, fuming at the fact these idiots had fooled him with empty threats, tricked him into thinking he was seriously in danger with a fucking scrap of metal.

Despite the way they had stealthily crept up on the two of you, these guys have neither the experience nor support to successfully pull off a stunt like this. This much is evident when he glances back and finds you wrestling the other guy’s arms behind his back. Following your example, he hauls his attacker up by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the tree. “Who are you with?” He hisses, watching the guy squirm in his hold. “Who the fuck are you with?” He repeats, and the guy finally breaks.

“No one! No one. It’s just the two of us, me and Yoongi, no one else,” he rambles, and Jungkook glances back at you. You were significantly better than him at detecting lies, and one solemn nod from you has him releasing his grip, angrily kicking the damn piece of tubing far into the distance.

“So you’re strays,” you announce a few moments later, arms crossed over your chest in that famous power stance, eyes scanning over the figures of the two men Jungkook had pushed to their knees in front of you.

“Yes,” Jimin, the one who had originally attacked Jungkook, confirms. “It’s been just us two for a few months now.”

You let his answer sit for a few beats. “Where did you get this gun? This is the same one the  Magnolia carry,” you state, and Jungkook wants to laugh at your stern approach, because just minutes ago you were fighting off a smile at his fourth knock knock joke. Instead, he schools his expression, gathering their things back into the sack Jimin had so lovingly dumped earlier.

Yoongi sighs, and Jungkook is extra wary of him, because it seems he is the one who orchestrated their little attack. “We attacked two of them. Took the gun and some other things before they could call for help. We’ve only had it for a few weeks now,” he confesses.

Jungkook snorts. These guys sure were brave, he thinks. One measly gun and they became bold enough to pull a stunt like this. If it were up to him he’d take their admittedly small resources and throw them back out into the forest with nothing for their half-assed efforts.

Sadly, it’s not. He watches you mull over their responses, can practically hear the invitation sitting on the tip of your tongue. It’s not the first time he’s found himself in a situation like this with you, your overwhelming need to invite nearly every stray you stumbled upon back to the O. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you turn someone away.

Briefly he wonders if you had the same doubts as him. How many people constituted a functional society? They’d never know until the day the entity shows up. Until then, he knows you’ll keep taking strays in.

As predicted, the offer appears. “We have a place,” you begin, and Jungkook’s eyes can’t roll far back enough. Leave it to you to invite these half-assed clowns back to Oleander.

Silently, Jungkook walks off to sulk elsewhere, still mad that he’d let some idiot take advantage of his lack of sight to trick him into believing he had a gun to his back.

Later, when you’re wrapping up your extensive history of Oleander to these two strangers, you wander back towards where Jungkook’s been leaning against a tree. The two men follow behind tentatively, and you gesture for them to start up the creek bed, pointing toward the general direction of Oleander.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare, one you have no problem returning. “Really?” He drawls. “Inviting back the guys who tried to kill you?”

You ignore him, falling into step a few meters behind the two men. Jungkook follows. “They don’t have anywhere else to go,” you mention. “Besides, they’re not dangerous.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Babe, these guys were willing to kill you over a bag of granola bars and water,” he emphasizes, throwing a glance their way. “You think they won’t try that at the O?”

You shrug. Jungkook could strangle you.

“Kook, one of them had a pipe. He can’t really kill you with that,” you remind him, as if he isn’t embarrassed enough. “They’re obviously smart guys,” you add, your arm brushing against his. “It wouldn’t hurt to have people who can think like that back at Oleander.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I can get creative, too, y’know,” he huffs.

His childishness makes you snort, a small hand patting the small of his back comfortingly. “I know you can,” you smile. “But for every smart Kook idea, I have ten dumb Namjoon ideas. It would help to have someone else to balance them out.”

Placated, Jungkook lets it go. “I just want you to be careful, babe,” he murmurs, watching the two men ahead of him with caution.

Nodding along to his concern, you call out to the men to carry on left when you reach a break in the creek. “I know, and I’m always grateful to you for that,” you reply, the hand on his back drawing soothing circles. He hates how easily you can calm him down. “Just please trust in my decisions this once.”

It’s a cruel jab that makes his heart ache.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to think he questions your decisions as their leader, even if sometimes he does. He knows how stressful it is for you to have all these people depending on you, so he’ll never tell you you’re doing a bad job. Still, you have your moments where you’re a little too reckless, a little too careless.

Like today. If you had come out alone, Jungkook doesn’t know what these men would have done to you. He doesn’t like when you make decisions like that, sacrifice yourself for others like that, but he also doesn’t want to make you think you’re a bad leader, because you’re not. Just a little dumb sometimes.

Jungkook says nothing, sensing this is a losing battle. They trek back to Oleander in relative silence, a three hour walk that ends a little past sunset.

Jimin and Yoongi get the same golden welcome as every new person does at Oleander, with Hoseok cheerily showing them around the grounds and letting Seokjin check over their health. It’s the exact same process Jungkook went through when he first came here, and perhaps that’s why he feels so put off by the way you skirt around your discovery of them when Hoseok asks. You lie and say you found them on the way back from your training, not mentioning the fact they attacked you.

They end up moving into Namjoon’s tent, with Namjoon moving in with Jungkook. He doesn’t seem the least bit critical of Jimin and Yoongi, and Jungkook guesses no one besides him ever will.

With summer upon them, the seeds they planted last fall sprout beautifully. The chefs at the mess hall serve the most organic pizza Jungkook’s ever had, made in the clay oven Namjoon spent hours on last fall. He eats and leaves right away, ignoring his friends’ confused expressions when he skips out on their evening gossip session at the hall.

The tent feels smaller with Namjoon’s sleeping bag squeezed inside, his casual clothes and Jungkook’s blue tracksuit pushed against the opposite end of the tent.

He wonders how he’s supposed to jack himself off now that he doesn’t have his own private space. The longer he thinks, he realizes this current moment might be the last semblance of privacy he ever has, and scrambles to take advantage of the opportunity. His hand has just unbuckled his belt, the zipper on his pants halfway down, when you suddenly appear unannounced.

“Holy shit,” he yelps, covering his crotch with his hands. You pay him no attention, eyes flickering over the newly remodeled space. “Can you knock?!”

“Jungkook,” you say, dropping down to sit beside him on the ground. He hurries to close the front of his pants. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he drones, his last peaceful masturbation session slipping between his fingers. “I was actually quite horny before you broke in and gave me a heart attack.”

You frown, glancing at the front of his pants as if you’re just realizing you interrupted a very precious moment of his. “I didn’t realize,” you mumble apologetically, but Jungkook waves you off quickly.

“Forget it,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms. “What’s up with you, doll?” He asks instead, suddenly aware of the worried pinch between your brows, lips downturned as you regard him.

“Nothing,” you assure him, hands cutely folded into your lap. In another life, in another universe, he imagines you would have sat like that on a first date, fingers nervously fiddling with each other. “It’s just…” you hesitate, something he rarely sees you do. “I get the feeling you’re still upset with me for bringing Jimin and Yoongi back to Oleander,” you confess. “You skipped out on dessert.”

Frankly, he is.

Despite the talk you shared on the way back, Jungkook can’t help but feel bringing those two back was a bad idea.

Sure, they’ve encountered and invited other strays who’d reacted in similar states of distress, refusing to believe that sane, kind people still existed after the appearance of the entity. They’d lash out, hiss at Jungkook and the rest, until they reached a point in which they could calmly talk it through. People lose themselves after being in solitude for so long. Jungkook had only been alone for a little less than a month, and even then he remembers being terrified of you and the others.

But never had a stray pointed a gun at them, at you, and that’s what bothers Jungkook the most.

Part of him worries these guys aren’t the strays they claim to be, but masked members of another survivor camp here to take them over, kill them off. Realistically, they’re baseless worries. One of them is thin beyond belief, and the other had told them their whole life story the second they arrived back at the O. They don’t have that killer aura that the Magnolians have, and Jungkook wants to believe they by no means have the expertise to be specially trained assassins.

If anything, they’re just really cunning strays who happened to draw a lucky card when they got that gun.

On top of that uncertainty was the worry that stemmed from your actions both today and for the past year if he’s being honest.

He’s never questioned your motives for bringing someone back to the haven before, usually trusting in you to do what’s right. After all, Jungkook was hardly the poster boy of moral decisions, so he always left that up to you.

That being said, he feels… disappointed by your lack of logical thinking today. He understands that Yoongi and Jimin are just doing what they can to get by, something he would’ve done too if he was alone. But Jungkook isn’t as forgiving and empathetic as you, which is probably why he feels like this.

“I don’t think it was a good idea,” he admits, listening to the quiet inhale you draw in at his admission. “I get that they’re strays and all… I just think you need to be more careful.” It’s rich coming from him, probably the least cautious person at the base.

You nod, the same understanding one you’d given him on the trip back.

Jungkook knew you had a tender heart. You and Hoseok both did, hence the reason you established Oleander in the first place. Admittedly, Hoseok is even worse than you, which is the main reason he doesn’t go out on scavenging trips, choosing to keep watch over the people they already have.

Before you can reiterate your reasoning from the afternoon, Jungkook cuts you off. He catches your hand, turns it over to knot your fingers with his. “Babe, I need you to take care of yourself first,” he says, watches the befuddled expression that crosses your features.

You blink. “I do?” You defend, and it’s so weak Jungkook could cry.

He sighs, squeezes your hand in his. “You don’t,” he feels a little weird explaining the state of your thoughts to, well, you. “I get that you wanna keep everyone here safe, but what about yourself?”

You say nothing. The quiet bustling of the base outside fills the silence between you.

Jungkook looks away first, choosing to stare a hole into the tent walls before him. “I know you have this huge responsibility on you and that it’s a lot of pressure, __,” he murmurs quietly. “But it’s okay to ask for help, y’know?”

Beside him, your knees curl up into your chest, chin resting on them. You don’t let go of his hand, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

“What’s happening is scary,” he admits. “But you’re not going through this alone. I want you to tell me when things become too much for you,” he emphasizes.

The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway.

From between his fingers, he can feel your hand trembling.  His heart throbs painfully in his chest. Jungkook wishes he could freeze this moment in time, keep the two of you inside this tent away from the crumbling world around you. In another life, in another universe, he reminds himself.

Eventually you let out a shaky exhale, eyes burning into the side of Jungkook’s face until he returns your gaze. Ever so quietly, you murmur, “Kook, I’m so scared.”

It’s the quietness of your confession, like you’re afraid admitting as much will lessen your credibility, that has him leaning forward, forehead knocking against yours gently.

“Oh, baby,” he frowns, doesn’t say a word when you throw yourself into his arms. Your face finds its home buried in the front of his shirt, shoulders shaking. He rubs your back soothingly, the same way you do to him every time he’s riled up, listening to the quiet sniffles that escape you.

“I don’t want people to get hurt,” you cry, your voice small and muffled against the front of his shirt.

His heart falters in his chest, suddenly realizing how small you are curled up in his arms. He can’t even begin to imagine the expression on your face, one you still hide from him, but he guesses it’s nothing less than glossy eyes and puffy face.

For the second time in the past year Jungkook’s known you, he gets a peek into your frail interior. A brief glance to see the woman who had watched the world around her crumble, all alone amidst wave after wave of deaths.

The city had been a horrible sight to see, but at least there he’d been comforted by the fact he was with a group of people he’d known and escaped with. It had been the first of many instances. For you, he can’t even fathom how you managed to pull yourself from the wreckage, maintain yourself until you found Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, voice but a thin whisper he barely catches. He brushes you off, leaning his chin on the crown of your head as he continues to rub your back.

Eventually, you calm down.

The trembling of your body slows, and your muted cries disappear. When you lean away, Jungkook keeps his hands on your shoulders. Your eyes are still coated in a thin sheen of tears, the skin around flushed. Jungkook runs a knuckle along your cheekbone, following a faint trail of tears.

You rub the heel of your hand against your eye as you regain your composure. You don’t meet his eyes, but Jungkook doesn’t push. “Thank you, Jungkook,” you tell him, sniffling one last time. “I… really needed that.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, suddenly aware of how close you are. He could lean in and kiss you, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s taking advantage of your emotions. So he doesn’t.

You pat his cheek gently. He leans into the touch, eyes flickering over your bashful expression. “You were amazing today, Kook,” you quietly praise, and he’s never felt this light before. His cheeks flush red, the warmth slowly creeping up his face at your compliment.

Something in Jungkook has him leaning forward, puckered lips pressing against your temple. It’s only when his plush lips meet the skin of your forehead that he suddenly becomes aware of his actions. He stills, tries to find the perfect moment to pull away that will still make it seem friendly.

When his brain has dipped itself into frying oil three times over, it’s you who leans back with a soft smile on your features. You pat his knee once before standing up. “Actually, I heard something interesting today,” you mention, completely ignoring the redness of his face. “Follow me?”

“Anywhere,” he murmurs as he trails after you, passing the rowdy mess hall and the occasional group wandering about the grounds. Eventually you lead him into Seokjin’s medical tent, where Namjoon seems to be interrogating the hell out of Jimin. “What’s going on?” he asks, gaining everyone’s attention, and you motion towards where Jimin is babbling away.

“There they are,” Seokjin claps, “two experiments from the same lab.”

Jungkook flicks him on the forehead as he walks in, ignoring the sharp calling of his name coming from your mouth. “Not a lab experiment,” he defends, not that Seokjin cares. He squeezes around Jin, coming to stand beside Namjoon. Jimin is very quiet in his presence, probably still reflecting on their first meeting. Good, Jungkook thinks, he could drown in his guilt for all he cares.

“This guy says he knows where the new Magnolian base is set up,” Namjoon fills him in, eyeing Jimin. Jungkook doesn’t doubt it, after all, that’s apparently where they got their weapons from. Not that anyone besides you and Jungkook know that. “You believe him?”

Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t know what to say, because none of you really suspected anyone would ask about Jimin and Yoongi’s origins after the lame story you had made up earlier. Jimin, it seems, is more of a chatterbox than he thought.

“I’m telling you, man,” he whines. “Me and Yoongs saw the damn camp. That’s where we—“

“-Were running from,” you intercept. Jungkook rolls his eyes at your feeble attempts at keeping a secret that was inevitably going to be found out. “Jimin and Yoongi were running from there when we found them.”

Jimin nods frantically. “It’s about twenty miles from here.”

Namjoon nods along, looking deep in thought as he ponders on what exactly that means for Oleander.

Jungkook can help. Basically, it means this: Magnolia setting up a camp in close range of Oleander can only be a result of one of two things:

Either they, A, are unaware that Oleander is in close range and most likely settled due to the various water sources around this area. When they eventually find its current inhabitants, they’ll undoubtedly attack on sight.

Or B, they have caught wind of Oleander’s presence here and have promptly come to, you guessed it, kill them all off just because they can. In both scenarios, Oleander remains at great risk, and everyone in the tent knows this.

“So now what?” He says more than asks, sensing they’ve all more or less reached the same conclusion.

Your foot taps against the ground, lower lip pulled taut between your teeth as you work through a dozen plans in your head.

Namjoon, ever the “wise man”, jumps to the forefront. “We have to do something about their base,” he says.

Jungkook laughs at that, plopping down beside Jimin. “Yeah, let’s just go run up on some psychos with no moral compass and kill them before they kill us. Except, wait—“ he exclaims with a little staged gasp, before leveling Namjoon with the most bored stare he can muster. “None of us have the guts to kill someone.”

Namjoon is very obviously flustered by Jungkook’s dry jab, looking at you to defend him. Jungkook simply brushes off the disapproving frown you send him.

“And when they realize we won’t kill them, guess what, guys?” he asks no one in particular, mimes someone breaking his neck. “We’re dead.”

Silence falls over the medical tent at his blunt descriptions.

Jungkook knows he’s being annoyingly pessimistic, but he can’t help it. His first encounter with Magnolia had left him bleeding at the mouth, body aching for weeks. Occasionally, he has nightmares about that day, about what would happen if you and your friends hadn’t shown up. In most of them, Jungkook’s mind conjures up violent scenes of his death.

You suck in a sharp breath that catches everyone’s attention. Straightening your spine, you step back into the middle of the space, hands on your hips like a superhero. “As much as I hate to admit it, Jungkook is right.” He grins in satisfaction. “Even if they’re not part of our community, I’m sure having too many people congregated in the same area will draw the Thing‘s attention.” Finally, some logical thinking. “But,” you suddenly add, snatching that cocky smirk straight off his face. “That being said, I think it’s best if we look for ways to—“

“No,” he cuts off, surprising everyone in the room with his curt tone. He never outwardly disagreed with you before, always hyped up your ideas like you were the greatest person alive. You were in his eyes, but there was some plans even Jungkook thought were stupid. And given the fact this would be your second stupid plan of the day, he’s more than happy to go against you in front of the others. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Seokjin chides, leveling him with a cold glare he hasn’t seen in a while. “Let her speak.”

“No,” Jungkook repeats, turning his attention back to you. You don’t look the slightest bit pleased with him, and he already knows this will lead to days of you ignoring him like the time he and some of the guys snuck down to the creek after curfew one night. “Baby, going there is reckless—you know this,” he emphasizes, can’t help the gentle way he explains this to you like you’re nothing but a child.

“You haven’t even heard my idea,” you snap angrily. It takes every nerve in Jungkook’s body to keep him from crumbling beneath your hardened gaze. He hates when you look at him like that. “You won’t even let me say what I’m thinking, but you already think it’s stupid.”

“Because it is!” he yells, startling the other men in the tent. “Someone could get seriously hurt, and you know this,” he seethes, suddenly feeling like that whole heart-to-heart moment at his tent meant nothing to you. He deflates, rubs at his temples as if to rid him of the headache pounding behind his skull. “Doll, these are the Magnolians,” he murmurs. “They won’t just threaten you with a gun like Yoongi and Jimin, they will kill you on the spot.”

There’s a shared look of surprise between Seokjin and Namjoon at the news, and Jimin shifts nervously beside him. Jungkook could care less about his slip up, too engrossed in the way your lips pinch up indignantly.

“Fine,” you sneer. “Whatever we do, I’ll make sure to leave you off the list.” And with that, you’re exiting the tent with an angry tug against the door flaps.

A beat of silence as they all stare after you in shock. Jungkook has never been left off the list of scavengers.

“Kook,” Seokjin goes to soothe him, but he's already slipping out of the tent, eyes wildly scanning over the dark perimeter of the base in search of you. He finds you stomping in the direction of your tent, a small thing pressed against the side of the armory.

The ache in his knee be damned as he sprints across the clearing, narrowly avoiding the people who are still out. He catches you just as you duck inside, tearing the flap of your tent wide open.

You jump in surprise, but quickly pull on an expression of annoyance as he towers over you, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

“What did you say?” he seethes, letting the flap fall shut behind him, shrouding the two of you in darkness.

“I said you’re off the list,” you snap without missing a beat, anger rolling off you in waves. “Since you hate my ideas so much, your ass can stay here.”

Jungkook exhales loud and hard, stepping closer to you until you’re nose to nose. “I’m not off the fucking list,” he announces, jaw twitching. You go to retort, pushing him away with a palm flat on his chest that he catches in a flash, tugging you forward until you’re stumbling into his chest. You gape in shock at the hand that tightens around your waist, Jungkook’s steely eyes aiming to pierce into your soul. “If you wanna be stupid and break into the Magnolia base that’s fine by me,” he hisses, “but don’t think for a second I’d ever let you go without me, understood?”

You struggle in his arms. “I never said I wanted that,” you snarl, pushing yourself off and away from him. “But you wouldn’t know that because you wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist, refusing to let you run straight into the hands of danger. “Maybe I would listen if you weren’t always trying to off yourself,” he barks, narrowly avoiding your elbow when you begin flailing in his arms.

“Jungkook— let me go!” you huff, growing more upset the longer he holds on to you. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

He ignores you.

But he greatly underestimated your strength, which ends up being a huge mistake. He had watched you toss Yoongi over your shoulder just this afternoon, so he should’ve known better than anyone about the adrenaline-fueled feats you can do when you’re riled up.

You still, deluding him into thinking you’ve calmed down enough for him to loosen his grip. It’s in that tiny moment of weakness that you strike, wrapping your arms around his waist and throwing the two of you to the side. Luckily, you’re not blinded by fury enough to destroy your own tent, and end up slamming him against the wooden wall of the armory that sits flush to one side of your tent.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, the intensity of the push having a bounce back effect. He staggers forward, arms still around your waist, until the both of you stumble into the ground in a mess of limbs. You yelp at the heavy weight of his body on you, and Jungkook only has half a mind to roll off. “Oh fuck,” he groans, rubbing the back of his head.

The way you’d surged the two of you, him backwards, into the wall had left him vastly unprepared, skull slamming painfully into the wood. That on top of the good thwack Jimin had given him earlier with the pipe had his vision spotting now.

“Jungkook?” you call, shuffling to your knees over him, all traces of anger gone as worry floods over you.”Jungkook, oh my god,” you choke, sitting him up slowly, but given the fragile state of his head it seems fast anyway. The movement makes his head spin like a carousel. He’ll definitely need to see Seokjin for this. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your head,” you cry, fluttering around your tent for something to give him. “Here, drink this,” you intrude, thrusting a water bottle into his hand.

He takes it in one hand, rolling his head around once. “Shit, babe, calm down. I’m not dying,” he cracks, though it ends in a groan. He definitely needed to sleep this off.

His joke only makes you more upset, and you lean forward to brush his hair from his face until your beautifully bothered expression is looking down over him. “No,” you groan, “please don’t try to make me feel better. That was a horrible thing for me to do.”

You tug him to his feet, Jungkook wincing at the sudden motion. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty,” he agrees, letting you throw an arm over your shoulders as you guide him out of the tent.

In all honesty the pain had subsided the second he’d sat up. Now he was just left with a slight pounding behind his temples, like a headache on steroids, but he played soccer his whole life; he knows when an injury was serious. This just seems like a mild concussion at most.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to milk every second of this. He leans into your side, your arm tightening around his waist.

“You know what’s even more shitty, though?” he prompts. You hum, more concerned with getting him to the safety of his tent. The base is mostly silent now, and the forest surrounding the camp is eerily dark. All the squirrels and rabbits they see during the day have gone to sleep, the only sound being that of the occasional owl hoot. The only people Jungkook sees are the ones on night duty sporadically standing around the perimeter of Oleander. Jungkook doesn’t answer right away, lets you sit in suspense, before announcing, “leaving someone off the list.”

You groan, finally stopping inside his tent. Upon getting closer, he’s reminded of his new roommate waiting for him inside, loud snores surely keeping everyone in a twenty foot radius awake. “I’m sorry,” you frown, moving to stand in front of him. The weight of your apology feels like you’re sorry for multiple things at once. Normally he would press, but you look like you’re about to cry just from upsetting Jungkook. For some reason he gets some twisted excitement from seeing you so torn up over him.

He shakes his head, lets the hair you pushed off his forehead fall back into place. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, reaching up to cup the side of your face like you did to him earlier. You lean into the touch, covering his hand with your own. Jungkook’s heart swells.

How could such a pretty little thing be this reckless? he thinks, watching the lashes that tickle your skin with every blink. “Go to bed, doll,” he commands, and you nod cutely, like a bobblehead. “Be stupid again tomorrow.”

He’s rewarded with a soft kick against his shin, a tiny smile curling around your features. “Okay,” you concede, fingers tracing over his knuckles as he finally pulls away. You watch him get into his tent, stay put until he’s glancing at you through the flaps to get moving. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” you make sure to say, waving goodbye as you begin walking back in the direction you came from.

It would’ve been the perfect night, mild concussion and all, if he had been able to truly savor your expressions that day. Instead, he goes to bed with a half hard cock and a snoring bear beside him.

Copyright © July 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[estellaelysian]

I’ll be here (Ethan x MC) part 2

Book/Pairing: Open heart/Ethan x F!MC (Alishka Roy)

Summary: After effects of drinking too much get Ethan thinking

Category: A little angsty? Fluffy at the end

Warnings: None

Part one here

**********

The windows grew light by six in the morning, but Ethan had no knowledge of going from sleep to blind consciousness to being awake. His apartment was filled with a dim yellow-orange gloom as the sunlight filtered through the closed curtains. He was lying on his stomach, his face pressed into the mattress, his head filled with pain and his mouth dry and rank. He was completely dressed except for his jacket which was lying on the chair next to his bed and his shoes, which were … he did not know where they were. Stabbing memories (or were they figments of his unruly imagination?) nagged at his mind like glass shards through his head: persuading Reggie that another drink was a good idea. Alishka, sitting next to him, listening to him as she spoke. Did she really hike across the town to make sure he got home safely?

Slowly, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, squinting around the room before letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. He then reached for his phone, moving gingerly, and saw a piece of white paper tucked beneath it. It was a note from Alishka.

Dear Ethan,

I have informed Naveen you won’t be able to come to work today. I am working in the morning and will come by in the evening, but I’ll be on my phone if you would rather I came by early.

I have left some lunch for you in case you feel like eating. There is water, paracetamol and aspirin on the kitchen island.

Alishka.                      

P.S. Don’t be embarrassed about last night. You didn’t say or do anything you should regret.

He sat quite still for a moment, holding the note in his hand. He had no idea what time it could be, or indeed, what day it was. He glanced at the note again, written in fluid handwriting, before his throat tightened.

Four paracetamol, a glass of aspirin, which almost decided the vomiting question for him were followed by almost twenty minutes in the bathroom, with results offensive to both nose and ears, but he was sustained throughout by a feeling of profound gratitude for Alishka’s absence, even though part of him wanted her here. Back in the kitchen, he drank two more bottles of water and noticed another note beside a covered pot.

Help yourself. Also there is some cake in the refrigerator to help reduce your crashing hangover.

He lifted the lid of the pot. Inside was fresh-made veggie spaghetti, which meant she had either never left or been here in the morning …… but how?

His head throbbed with pain. After some deliberation, he brushed his teeth and showered, chose a set of clean clothes and then set outside in the cold.

It was still snowing, the flakes thick and feathery. The snow was so thick in the air that everything was blurry, but Ethan didn’t mind because the cold air was pleasantly numbing and at-least for a moment or so, he forgot about his headache or how heavy his body felt. Of course, it was stinging, but he ignored it for the relief of ten seconds of icy, blind stillness. He looked around. Nothing had been plowed, and the streetlights of the night before were off. As he trudged through the development, he had plenty of time to consider what he had just done to his life, and just how irresponsible he had been. He was a doctor. He had duties, responsibilities, and people were expecting him to show up. He couldn’t let just the appearance of Louise get to his head. Also, he could not forget how he had vented his anger at Alishka in the on-call room, and yet, how she had come looking for him. Last night, he couldn’t even remember properly.

Although he had a bunch of other things to think about, his mind was mostly occupied by Louise and the goddamned nerve she had to show her face after all these years. He hadn’t seen her in over two decades and then one day, she shows up on death’s door in his E.R. He felt a lot of things about that. Chief among them was frustration and disgust. And that’s how he felt about thinking about it. She was an addict. It changed so many things …

Cold wind swept over his face, making him close his eyes for a moment. The deep snow, walking through which was a trial, covered every space of ground around him. It would have been beautiful, if it didn’t sting so much. His legs were frozen to a point where they felt warm again. The pockets in which he had buried his hands were somewhat effective.

Though his lone walk did help a little with his hangover, it definitely worsened his mental situation, making him wish again for work or for Alishka’s grounding presence around him. Mistakes clouded his mind, and he felt like he had some repenting to do, because of which, he helped an old lady Gloria shovel her driveway. She had a glass eye and a bad back, and helping her out set his mind straight and somehow made him feel less guilty about last night … and everything else that had followed.

Once he got home, he exchanged his clothes which were soaked from the snow for something more comfortable. He returned to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door to find the cake Alishka had mentioned in her note. Most of the symptoms associated with a bad (or rather, crashing, as she had said,) hangover were due to dehydration and hypoglycemia, which were the inevitable results of prolonged vomiting. He retrieved the cake and took a seat at the couch, letting the dessert take over.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cake and paracetamol were beginning to take the edge off his nausea and pain. As he stood, he noticed his every step, every movement was not jarring his head. He walked to the window and watched the snow-clad Boston, waiting for the night to fall, yearning for Alishka to come home early.

***

It was almost seven in the evening when Ethan heard the soft knock on his door. He lowered the flame under the sauce he had been making and headed toward the door. Just as he had expected (and wanted), Alishka was standing on the other side of it, bundled up under a beige coat and a scarf, her cheeks pink from the cold and her hair frosted from the snow.

‘Hi,’ she said as she walked in, thankful for the heat. It was easily thirty degrees warmer inside his apartment. ‘Oh my god, it’s so cold outside, and snowing kind of end-of-worldly. It’s awful. I got terrible chills on my hike here.’

‘I noticed,’ Ethan said, chuckling. ‘You could’ve taken the bus.’

‘They were all … well there were no buses. Don’t you see the snow?’

She removed her scarf and let it down on the couch, but hesitated with the coat. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her.

‘I see everything, Rookie. You didn’t have to come all the way here. You could’ve called. I’m fine.’

‘Don’t even tell me you didn’t miss me. And don’t get me started on the trouble thing. Please.’

She stood on the tips of her toes and grabbed the nape of his neck yanking him down towards her, pressing her cold lips to his warm ones. The sensation alone brought her warmth and made her expand like a water blossom.

‘Do you want to shower before we have dinner?’ he managed to say, between the pressings of her full lips on to his.

‘God yes...’ A little giggle. ‘I’d love to.’

‘I should probably go check on our dinner,’ he said. ‘Make sure it’s not burning.’

With that they separated for the next thirty minutes or so. Ethan managed to get the food going and waited at the couch for Alishka to finish up, all the while planning an eloquent speech of apology for his excesses of the night before and an avowal of gratitude. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the door open or the slap of bare feet until Alishka appeared in front of him, fresh faced, without jewelry or makeup. She was dressed in his clothes – a gray sweatshirt whose sleeves came down well beyond her wrists and a pair of sweatpants. She caught him looking and flashed a crooked smile, one that drove him crazy, one that he had memorized a million times over.

She took a seat on the couch beside him and he put an arm around her, pulling her close. She painted him with another smile.

‘That smells incredible.’

‘Alishka listen,’ he said, wrapping his other arm around her as well. She looked up at him, tucking her wet hair behind her ear. ‘I wanted to say sorry about last night.’

‘Ethan …’ she said, squeezing his arm. ‘There’s no need.’

‘Yes there is,’ he insisted. ‘I can’t remember much of what I did. I hope I wasn’t obnoxious.’

‘You weren’t.’

‘After getting off on you like that in the on-call room … you didn’t have to come and find me, but you did.’ He swallowed hard, embarrassed to find his throat tightening. ‘I barely considered how it may have affected you.’

‘Ethan it’s okay, really.’

‘And thanks for the aspirin.’

‘Did it help?’

‘I felt very sick, but once it kicked in, it helped a lot.’

‘I thought so.’ She snuggled closer to him, deepening the embrace.

‘I also wanted to ask you something.’

‘Ask.’

‘Did you go back to your flat last night?’

‘Yeah I did. Why?’

‘The spaghetti …’

She smiled. So he had figured it out.

‘I came by in the morning. I borrowed your house keys. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t.’ He stared at her with what could only be described as mock horror. If it weren’t for his pretending skills, she wouldn’t have noticed the slight smile that played on his lips. ‘Oh Rookie… what am I gonna do with you?’

They enjoyed dinner, conversing quietly in the dim glow of the yellow light, liquid and warm. It passed easily, punctuated by stories and laughter. Through it all, Alishka watched and listened, focusing all her attention at Ethan. When they head finished their meals, the two of them cleaned up the kitchen, Ethan washing the dishes while Alishka dried and put them away.

Once they moved back to the couch, a blanket covering their legs, the conversation continued. Their comfort in each other was all too visible. He had slipped an arm over her shoulder, allowing her to lean against him. His fingers twisted the thin cloth of the sweatshirt she was wearing as she inspected her hand and compared it to his.

‘How were things at the hospital?’ he asked.

‘They were okay. I was running code today, and I lost six patients in the span of fourteen hours of running around the E.R., and it turned me to a complete recluse. I spent my break on the rooftop of the hospital.’

There was a slight pause as he loosened his fingers in her grip. Then, she spoke again.

‘Oh, and your dad came to visit your m … Louise.’ She felt his muscles tighten involuntarily, if only for an instant. He took a long breath and released it slowly.

‘And?’

‘He said it would mean a lot to her if you went to visit…but I told him you were not there at the hospital. I told him you had an off day.’

He liked the tactful answer she had given his father. Before he could say anything, she spoke again.

‘Why don’t you go see her at least once? Like, just check on her condition?’

‘I am sure she is fine. And alive. Someone would’ve informed me if she were not.’

Alishka sighed and let her head fall back against his shoulder. ‘I am sure that is true,’ she said softly.

‘What? You are not going to lecture me?’

‘No, Ethan. That’s your family. It’s not my place to tell you what to do. Or how to feel. I can’t even imagine how it must be like for you. So, you do what you think is right, and I’ll stand right here, next to you in whatever you decide’

She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

‘The thing is…I don’t know what I’ll do if I see her again.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I am not a kid anymore. I have no need of a mother, let alone one who abandoned me. But there was a time when I’d do anything for her. And now, I’m afraid that if I hear her out, I’ll lose all rational capability and let her back into my life.’ He sighed deeply.

‘Oh Ethan…’

‘Anyway, that’s what’s going on with my head, and I just want to get away from it.’

‘You will find a way.’

‘Maybe,’ he said, sounding less than sure. ‘Right now, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you excuse me for a minute, please?’

With reluctance, Alishka sat up, letting Ethan squeeze past. He disappeared into the kitchen, surely to open a bottle of Scotch. She pressed her palms to her face, rubbing her eyes, thinking about following him in there, but before she could get up from the couch, he reappeared, holding a white ceramic plate which he presented to her. She couldn’t believe what he had done.

He had made her a lava-cake.

A small white oblong had been placed next to the desert; a note. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached for it.

Thank you for always being there.

I love you.

He stood there silently, watching her spellbound face, the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, tears sparkling in her eyes which were colored with emotion as she held the note. As he took a seat beside her, she rearranged her coltish legs, shook her hair out of her eyes and gazed at him.

‘Being here with you means I don’t have to think about it. About anything. I don’t have to worry. All I’ve done since you got here is think about you and how glad I am that I get to spend my time with you. That you are with me. You’ve done so much, I thought I could do a little something too.’

A rare blush crept over her. Failing to hold back any longer, she pulled him to her and kissed him softly.

His only thought as they began to kiss was that this was the way it should always be, forever.

**********

Tagging: @tenaciouslandvoidgiant

A/N: I took the liberty of using some dialogue from canon cause it fit better, and also its a twist on that version, so Ethan didn’t really go to the hospital in my version.

Thank you for reading

[4booga]

I can't come up with a decent title for this so take it. Also this is my first fanfic

 Ludwig heard the quiet ringing of the bell above his head as he stepped right into the bakery. It was only four am but he could already feel the stress of the day press down on to him. He took a deep breath in as he smelled the faint scent of brown sugar and chocolate as he relaxed his tense shoulders. "Good morning Miss Cohen. How did you sleep last night?" He called out quietly to an older woman who was preparing the daily recipes for the day at one of the booths as he headed into the back of the kitchen. His eyes drifted to his brown teddy apron hanging up neatly on his personal hook. The German couldn't help but smile at the fact that his name above the hook had seemed to be bedazzled with pastel blue gems. He tied the apron around his waist tightly before he finally heard her reply.

 "I slept well sugar. Should we make the usual today or should we spice it up and make honey cakes?" Her voice was soft and gentle as she closed her faded book. She gave him a kind smile as she stood up to help "You don't have to be so formal with me Ludwig. You can call me Jane or you can call me Momma. I don't care if you choose one over the other!" Jane's voice was sweet as she made her way into the kitchen before staring up at the younger man in front of her. "Did you sleep well last night? Did you eat breakfast? Don't make me sit you down and make you an omelette!" Even though he towered over her she still couldn't help but fuss over him.

 "Yes I did eat today Jane and I slept last night." He felt like he couldn't call her momma just yet so he called her by her first name. The blonde smiled down at the graying brunette before she smiled up at him with a chuckle. "I think we should make honey cakes today since they usually sell out fast." His voice was lacking his usual brass and loudness as he began helping her with her apron, leaning down since she only stood at around four foot five compared to his six foot six. 

 Jane turned around quickly once her apron was secured around her waist before she pulled out a headband from her pocket that had bear ears attached to it. She gently pushed back his blonde hair from his forehead before pinning the stray hairs with the head band. "You look so handsome bärchen." She spoke to him teasingly while pinching one of his flushing cheeks. "Let's get started with making chick buns before the cakes so they can have some time to rise while the cakes cook!" Her hands were clasped together as she thought about all the people who would enjoy their hard work. She walked over to the sink before using her stepping stool to wash her hands before gloving them.

 Ludwig waited patiently behind her before watching her kick her stool along to the pantry door. He began washing his hands carefully while whistling a soft love song which filled the quiet room. He dried off his hands as he gloved them before helping her grab the things off the shelves that she was too short to reach. His gloved hands were already becoming stained with yellow dye from the box of food coloring before the older woman quickly put it back on the shelf. 

 "I'm thinking we change up the recipe a little, Luddy. I think we should use lemons instead of the normal food dye in the buns. It will give it a nice sweet flavor instead of the savory one that they are use to! I can just change the label for it in the food case before it goes out!" Jane spoke to him with a smile as she dug through the gigantic fridge for the bag of lemons she had just bought a few days ago. "Also someone mentioned in the store a few days ago that they can't have food dye so it will be a great alternative even though we can't get the normal bright yellow." Her voice never wavered from her kind tone as she kicked her stool back over to the sink to wash the lemons.

 Ludwig's smile grew at her enthusiasm before grabbing the juicer from one of the many pink cabinets that lined the back wall. "Are you sure we should change it?" His voice was calm as he already began grabbing the cutting board along with one of the knives from the drawer. He grabbed one of the already washed lemons before carefully slicing it in half. He focused on the task in front of him as he placed the halved lemons next to each other on the granite countertop as he moved on to the next one. His thoughts began drifting with each lemon he sliced in half before he yelped out in pain as he felt the sharp blade cut into his gloved finger. It wasn't deep but it still hurt all the same. "Ah fuck..." When he swore he felt his injured hand carefully grabbed and placed into Jane's much softer and small hands.

 "Are you alright sugar?" Jane began carefully looking at the cut as soft hiss of sympathy left her lips. "We have to wash that quickly. Lemon juice in cuts ain't fun." She led him over to the sink before running the stinging cut underneath the cool water as she removed his gloves. "I'll get you a bandage and you just wash it!" Her voice was firm as he watched her leave the room to grab the first aid kit in the small break room above them in the second floor. 

 Ludwig weakly nodded his head before scrubbing soap into the cut before letting out a quiet sound of pain. With gritted teeth she watched the soapy water mixed drip down his fingers before he patted it dry. He could hear her footsteps from before he leaned against one of the countertops to make it easier for her to patch him up. 

 "You really need to be more careful with yourself. You might think you're invulnerable but you aren't." Jane's voice was firm but still gentle as she wiped disinfectant over his finger before placing a childish Hello Kitty bandaid over the small cute before gently kissing it better like he was a small child. "Now I'll start making the chick buns and you start on the honey cakes." Her voice was still firm before she gently patted his cheeks. "And don't forget to put on a fresh pair of gloves sweetheart." She quickly removed her gloves before washing her hands to remove any chemicals from taking care of his small injury.

 Ludwig nodded before rewashing his hands, placing a fresh pair of gloves carefully over his bandaid. He walked over to the large mixer as he took a deep breath in through his nose. His eyes drifted over to the lamented book next to the mixer before flipping to the page that read honey cake in large font. His fingers slowly drifted down the page as he began quietly muttering the ingredients to himself before heading over to the pantry. He began grabbing everything he needed along with the honey before walking over to the bowl. "How many are we making today?" He asked her quietly while turning towards her.

 "I think we can make thirty four for today." Jane called back over to him as she began squeezing the lemons for their juice. Her hands were skilled with each squeeze before she began grating peel for the zest. "Remember to go easy on the honey. It's pretty strong! We actually want to make sure people can eat our food." Her teasing was different from the way his brother would normally tease him which made the young German smile. She ordered him to as she waited for the yeast to feed on the sugar in her bowl before she could begin adding in the flour and lemon juice.

 "I will." After Ludiwg spoke the pair soon fell into an easy silence with only the occasional sound of the mixer filling the air. His eyes slowly began to close as he rested against the countertop before he quickly snapped himself awake before slowly mixing the key ingredient into the batter. He watched the beater slowly mix it in before he sighed quietly while taking a steadying breath in.

 "Luddy are you alright? You're not as talkative today. Did you brother make fun of you again?" Even though it sounded like a childish question coming from the older woman but she still spoke it out loud to the German. "Or is something else on your mind? You can talk while we make buns." She patted the empty spot on the countertop next to her before she watched the blonde walk over to her.

 "Jane you're good with feelings right? There is someone I'm friends with and I feel weird when I'm with them." Ludwig began speaking as he grabbed a fresh pair of gloves to prevent any contamination from happening between the two different recipes. "He makes me feel different and I don't know how to describe it to anyone else...It's not a bad feeling though!" He stared down at the near pastel yellow dough in front of him before slowly working it into a small ball.

 "Well maybe I can help you with your problem. I might not be the best but I'll try and help you." The older of the two kind spoke to him as she began working her own ball of dough. She began quietly humming as she waited for him to describe the feeling that had been distracting him.

 "He makes me feel like I have really bad indigestion all the time when I'm with them. He makes me feel shaky but not in a bad way just like being next to he makes me feel like I could collapse. Sometimes when I stand next to him I just want to hold his hand and smile with him." Ludwig stared down at the bun before picking up the small detailing knife as he carefully carved the wing shape into the dough. "I also feel sad too like something stopping me and won't let me actually touch him." His voice was barely audible as she gave him a kind smile.

 "Well I think you're in love with him. It's normal for some people to feel that way in love. You could feel sad because you know that you can't love him or because you're scared of being loved by him. He can also be taken and you know he like the other person better." Jane's voice was carefully choosing each word as she placed the finished bun on to the baking sheet. She gently squeezed his hand before gently placing his finished bun next to hers. "You weren't taught about emotions when you were young. Am I right?" She didn't want to be right but she had a sinking feeling she was.

 "Oh..." That was the only thing that could leave his throat at the relationvation before thinking about her question. Ludwig nodded weakly before she gave him a kind but weak smile. "Gilbert was always busy so I was mostly left alone since he was the only one raising me." He bit the inside of his cheek before making another bun as she gave him a look of pity and sadness. "But I grew up happy even though I had to learn about a lot of things from my friends later in life."

 The duo fell into another quiet silence as she gently squeezed his hand in her own smaller one every few seconds. After a few minutes the buns were ready to rise for the second time as he walked over to the cake batter to pour it into the pan. He poured the batter in carefully into the four deep pans in front of him before scraping the bowl clean from any of the remaining dough. He placed it into the already preheated oven before setting the timer for it. He yawned quietly as he stretched his back. 

 "Did you lie about sleeping last night young man?" Jane turned to him with a knowing smile before patting his back. "You really don't need to act tough all the time. I know you wanted to cry when you cut your hand but you didn't. Your body needs different things and right now you need sleep."

 The German's pale cheeks began heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well I did sleep an hour so I didn't actually lie. My new blood pressure medication kind of messed up my sleeping schedule." He could feel her brown eyes drill into him before she tsked quietly while leading him to the stairs.

 "Go take a nap now. I'll watch the store and you can take a two hour nap. I'll wake you up before we're supposed to open. The blanket is on the break room couch and there are snacks for you in the fridge if you wake up hungry." The older woman spoke to him firmly before gently shoving him up the first step. "No go. Get some sleep and then you can come back down to help me."

 The young man didn't move from the first step before he turned around to face her. He gave her a quick but kind hug while taking a deep breath in as he smelled the faint scent of lavender and soap in her curly hair before he felt her hug him back with a soft chuckle. He quickly let her go before turning his back to her. "Thank you momma." Those were his last words as he walked up the wooden stairs.

[whynotwinnie]

Wounded: a Kylo Ren x OC Part 5

A/N: Hey queens. We're finally picking up some speed with the tension i'm trying to get through these parts quickly so we can get to the juicy stuff, I had imagined Cardo as Roman Reigns and Kuruk as Tom Hardy but you can imagine them however you'd like, would y'all want me to do a description for Venus or just leave her faceless so it can be like a y/n situation... Let me know how you like it <3 Bennie

VENUS

You woke up to X2 beeping softly signaling you smiled at him, this must have been a dream you was in your quarters and need to get ready for another day at the infirmary, and then you remembered everything that happened. You were in the operating room with the Supreme Leader.

You rose from the recliner and let out a soft groan your neck ached and your back was definitely crooked, but at least you got some rest. You took a moment to pop your back and the rest of your aching bones you stretched touching your toes and rolled your neck side to side until the discomfort from the night's sleep wore off. You went to the refresher brushed your teeth and tried to mentally prepare for your day with the Supreme Leader.

How do you wake a Supreme Leader up you thought to herself. If it was any other patient you would do it with a smile and a friendly attitude but considering this wasn't any other patient you decided to tone down the happiness and go for a much quieter approach.

You slowly turned the lights back on to where it was just enough for her to see what you was doing.

"Now X2 he is still a little weary about you so you just need to follow my lead for a bit and he'll warm up to you and let us both work on him."

X2 beeped in confirmation. Now for the hard part.

You stood at the Supreme Leaders' side for a second and then you shook his shoulder he didn't even move. You grabbed him a little harder and shook him again and still nothing.

You looked at X2 "What do I do now?"

He beeped "Try again." You gave him a look.

You took a deep breath grabbed his shoulder and pushed him once hard. His eyes opened wide and he sat up.

"Supreme Leader it's just me I needed to see how your wound was doing." You blurted out quickly.

He ignored her and looked down at his wound. "Is it healed?"

You unwrapped his bandages and where the blaster wound had been was now a significantly smaller wound less irritated. "Worked like a charm." you smiled at him,

He was not amused. You sighed and you felt around the wound "Any discomfort when I press here." You looked up at him, he rubbed his eyes and shook his head no. "Here?" again no. "Here?"

"No, it doesn't hurt anywhere you touch." He yelled at you.

Your eyes grew wide and your heart skipped a beat. "Ok" you muttered softly

You walked to the side with X2 "Scan him and see if the broken ribs were fully mended and also for brain damage. I'm going to change real quick." With one last look at the Supreme Leader you left to the refresher.

You stared into the mirror and tried not to think of anything out of fear that he might hear your thoughts. All you wanted to do was calm down taking deep breaths you changed into your work clothes black sleeveless shirt tucked into black pants and your healer vest over showing all of your credentials. You tied your hair up completely forgetting about the gash there and after checking the scar there you decided that you were well enough to continue working... as if it mattered.

You walked back out to the operating room and X2 rolled over to you.

"Ribs are no longer broken but are still fragile he should be able to go on stage 2 of concussion protocol."

You nodded meaning today he was able to get up and maybe walk around for a bit. You were about to ask how his head felt but you really didn't want to get yelled at again.

So you just grabbed your tablet and started filling out what had happened, his injuries, and how he was healing since you didn't get a chance to do it the day before.

It was just silence between the both of you, if it was anyone else you would have put on some music or chatted with them but he had to make everything difficult. Shit you forgot about the whole mind-reading thing. You tried to look at him through the corner of your eye and saw him staring back at you.

"You can put on your stupid music, I don't care." he said

You shook your head "No actually you can rest I'm all done with you for now. I just needed to see how your body was reacting to the Bacta, you're healing quite nicely I'm more than sure you would be able to leave sooner." with that you turned back to your tablet and started doing some other paperwork you never had a chance to finish.

"You're being dramatic." you didn't respond to that.

"I didn't mean to yell at you, I just didn't sleep well."

"It's okay." you finally said, "I was being genuine about you going back to sleep."

You walked over to the light and dimmed them and sat on the recliner and busied yourself with work and even had a little nap while X2 looked after the Supreme Leader while he was sleeping.

X2 woke you when he heard someone approaching with breakfast. You rose and yelped outside the door were two of the Knights of Ren checking the poor kitchen worker's food.

You went outside and grabbed the food from the staff worker and thanked him hoping the two knights wouldn't bother you too much.

When you brought the tray to the table near the Supreme Leader where we was already awake.

"Good morning Supreme Leader breakfast just got you if you feel like eating."

"What's the time"

You checked your watch "7:38"

"We have our daily briefings at 10"

You weren't sure how to answer that doesn't he call the shots he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

Changing the subject "Well for breakfast we have either Oatmeal which I assume is for you or eggs, toast, and bacon which could also be for you if you like." You said as you raised his bed so he was sitting up.

"The coffee however is mine," you said with a smile bring the metal chair near the table across from the Supreme Leader. You sat down pouring the large pot into a mug and you looked up at him as he was still sitting there.

"Oh I'm sorry did you need assistance, I just assumed you were able to eat yourself because you're so much better. Well, I really shouldn't assume things pertaining to your health I'm sorr-"

"Stop apologizing I only meant for you to choose your plate first."

"What?"

"Choose your meal."

"Supreme Leader it's not really about me, if you feel up to eating the oatmeal then eat it but if you can handle something heavier then have the other plate. I don't mind having either."

He stared at her and you drank from your mug to avoid his eye contact.

He muttered something about being difficult and took the bowl of oatmeal using the variety of condiments the kitchen provided to make it to his liking. You grinned and took the plate of eggs you hate to admit it but your stomach was definitely empty from the night before. You both ate in silence it was comfortable maybe you could finish up with the Supreme Leader in about three or four days and then things can go to normal.

"Go ask Cardo to bring me new robes."

And then you weren't hungry anymore you swallowed hard, "Who?"

"Cardo outside the door with Kuruk."

"You want me to ask for robes...one of the Knights... of Ren"

"Yes"

"Oh sure." you got up and walked towards the door. With a deep breath you opened it softly.

"Excuse me, ummm Cardo." the knight on the left turned his head toward you.

"The Supreme Leader asked if you can get him new robes."

Cardo turned fully toward he towered you and his blaster catching your eye. He seemed to look beyond you toward the Supreme Leader.

After a second he straightened and turned and walked out the infirmary. Kuruk the other knight closed the door making you go back inside the operating room.

"I guess he is going to get them."

"He is."

"Oh."

You started cleaning all the breakfast dishes but kept the pot of coffee knowing you would need it later. By the time you finished you heard the door open.

"Girl" Cardo said harshly

"Venus is okay too," you said under your breath and took the black robes in his hands.

You brought them to the Supreme Leader "Your robes sir, I would be careful with your right side don't pick up your arms too fast, and don't pick them up too high."

"Were you not going to assist me?" he said

You shouldn't have a problem you've seen a lot worse and you have definitely changed someone naked both male and female, but he was the Supreme Leader. Him without his mask a semi-shirtless was enough for you to turn red.

"If you would allow me to then yes." Why did I say that?

The Supreme Leader undid the button of hid pants and you slowly dragged them down his legs, due to the hectic day yesterday you didn't even get a chance to assess the lower part of him. There was dirt and dried blood from minor scrapes you looked up at him "Can you raise your hands as far as they can go?"

He tried and they didn't even go past his shoulders.

"I'm guessing a shower would be out of the question then."

No answer.

You went towards the cabinets and grabbed a sponge, a towel, some soap, and a bowl full of warm water and brought it back to the Supreme Leader.

You took the sponge and put it in the bowl and gently started washing his legs trying to imagine that he was just another patient. Once dry you debated on asking him about his... other part. He must've sensed your uncomfortableness and said he can do it on his own with a relieved sigh you gave him the sponge.

"I'm going to be in the refresher ummm just shout if you need me or when you're done... actually X2 can stay just in case you hurt yourse-"

"No."

"Or not that's fine. Come on X2." and you shut the door to the refresher.

What the fuck?

[a19yearoldtryinherbest]

Not Her. Pt 2 [Aaron Conners]

Masterlist

Part 1

Prompt: Aaron waits long enough.

Pairing: Aaron Conners x OFC

Warning: Nothing. Fluff.

A/N: Long time coming part two.

Word count: 1838

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LeBron was a really good friend. However when it came to dating advice he wasn't that good, so when Aaron told him about his date with Isabella he said he should text her right away anyway. So Aaron did as he was told. It was only an invitation to watch a game, nothing too serious, but she replied "Not ready yet" and she was right but he was afraid. What if he would never be ready? What if he wasn't ready fast enough and he loosed her? So he texted "Would you wait?" To which she replied "Don't rush it" he wasn't sure if she meant don't rush our relationship or don't rush your healing but he didn't ask he just tried to figure out how to move on.

He wasn't sure how to care for himself in that way. He was a great guy, supportive, attentive and caring, but not with himself. He wasn't the best at handling his emotions, especially if they were bad ones, so he asked LeBron for help. He went to meditation, yoga, talked to his friend. Finally therapy did the trick, and he started to work out other thing besides his failed romance with Amy. Realizing she hadn't been the problem, and it wasn't her the solution. He felt good. He didn't felt like he needed someone for him to love, he wanted to be in an actual, adult relationship and not something as one-sided as his previous relationships had apparently been. He hoped it would be with Isabella but he was sure to make peace with it if it wasn't her.

He got home that day, right after a surgery, still feeling that calming thrill that was right then mixing with the calming thrill she gave him. He sat on his couch and looked at his cellphone, seeing the short conversation they had more than six months before. He read and re-read the last text "Don't rush it" — I'm not rushing it. — he assured himself before calling.

— Hi. — answered Isabella and Aaron felt his heart rush.

— Hi- hey. — he smiled — I-it's Aaron. LeBron's friend.

— Yeah, I got you on my phone. What's up?

— I was wondering if you would let me pay you back for that dinner?

She thought about it, it had been about two months were she didn't get a single text from him, she remembered the date how nice he was even if his heart wasn't in it, and now maybe it would be better, so she gave him a shot.

She was arriving a few minutes late at the restaurant. She knew it but she had always loved to make an entrance, and, in her head, it was a way to show she wasn't waiting around for him, even if she had for the past months. She saw him sitting at the table, it was a fancier please than the time before and he was wearing a baby blue, buttoned up shirt and some dress pants. His demeanor was a bit nervous until he saw her walking towards him. She saw him check her out quickly, swallowing dry as he looked back to her face. She was wearing a ruched emerald green dress with a lace falling from a soft knot on the right side, an adornment that detailed her figure and fitted her perfectly. He had forgotten how beautiful she was, he only remembered how nice and sweet she was, how understanding and funny. He had forgotten how smooth her brown skin was, how her enchanting smile made him blush the first time they met, how funny she was and how easy of a laugh she had.

And it felt great, talking to her, getting to know her. He learned she was really into sports, but not the teams, just the festivities it created, she read a lot but mostly romantic novels, throwing one or two classics ever so often, she knew quite enough Spanish to carry a conversation but was terrible at spelling, both in Spanish and English. He also picked upon the fact that she would bite her lower lip if he said something dumb that made her smile, or that she would throw her head back and hold her stomach if something made her laugh too hard. He had wondered how he hadn't notice any of that when they went on the first date, and then he scolded himself remembering it was because he was so hung up on Amy.

She was peaceful but not boring, intimate but not quiet, and, most of all, understanding and empathetic. She was perfect in every way, the way one is supposed to be. He wished to spend the rest of his life with her, so he set himself to not screw it up. He wasn't gonna rush it like he had done so many times, he wasn't gonna accidentally push his feelings completely aside just to please her, he wasn't gonna make the same mistake he had done so many times,if anything he was gonna make new mistakes and work through them.

They kept going on dates, hanging out, chatting and getting to know each-other for two months before officially starting dating. Aaron had always been a hopeless romantic and, even if she wasn't much of a romantic herself, it was nice to wake-up to breakfast and being surprised a work with some flowers. They had been dating for a bit over five months that they settled a double date with LeBron and his wife at Aaron's apartment.

That morning Isabella had woken up, changed for work, came back from work and changed for the dinner all at his apartment, just like the three days before, and like many other times in that month. She had a toothbrush, some creams, some make-up and a drawer full of clothes at his place, he felt fairly certain they were ready to move in together but he didn't want to say anything without really knowing what she thought of it. However that answer was delivered to him right after the dinner. As Isabella made coffee for them and their guest, Aaron washed the few plates they had used since the dishwasher was busted again.

— You should really get a new one. — said LeBron as he slowly dried the washed dishes — It's like the third time it's busted in two months, right?

— Yeah. I just haven't gotten around it. — he explained, as he closed the water tap and looked for something to dry his hands with — I don't know which one to get, though. — Isabella saw him trying not to get the floor wet and passed him a couple paper towels, he thanked him quietly and gave her a quick kiss without thinking it twice.

LeBron and his wife shared a approving look on their friend's behavior — You should get one like ours, bought it four years ago, not one problem, so far. — Savannah said as Isabella passed her and her husband their cups of coffee.

— Yeah, we should get one of those. — agreed Isabella. No one noted it but Aaron heart stopped for a second when he heard the "we" she said. We should get one. We. It was all he needed to ask her. And, after his friends left he asked her.

— Hey. — he said and she looked up from the glass she was washing. It was quite late, he had cleaned the table and swept the floor, and now he was going to ask her — Would you want to move in with me?

Isabella didn't answer, she didn't say anything, she just froze, completely still. Water from the tap still falling into and out of the glass, as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her first instinct was yes, her second instinct was I can't do that, and now she was trapped between the words what do I say?

On the other end of the conversation was Aaron, panicking a little, not visibly thought. He was afraid to be pushing her into commitment so he tried to fix it — Or not. It's okay if you don't want to.

— No, it's not that. — she mumbled, finally closing the tap and leaving the glass to dry.

— I just though that you are kind of living here any- Wait. — he stopped to a halt, his brain just now processing what she had said — What? — he asked but she paid no mind, caught thinking of what he had said.

She half smiled, taking a kitchen rag to dry her hands — I guess you're right, I have been sleeping here all week, haven't I? — she realized, Aaron nodded with a sweet smile, she smiled back quickly. She left the kitchen rag on the counter and crossed her arms and moved next to the counter so she could lean against it — I-. there's this thing you don't know. — she paused and exhaled to chase out her nerves — The last time I moved in with someone was about nine years ago. We had been dating for the better part of a year and it seemed right and we were young and in-love, and-. And about two years later we were engaged. And... He died six months before the wedding. — Aaron moved closer, trying to know whether to hug her or wait. He decided to wait just behind the corner of the island counter — It was unbearable, for a really long time, but now it doesn't hurt every single second, and I don't think about him as much, even if he is still on my mind. But the thing is; I never got this far with anyone after him. I couldn't. But now I can and it somehow makes me feel worse, like if, by moving in with you, I'm betraying him. — she looked at him. Her eyes weren't tearful but they were sad, and she asked him — Is that dumb?

— No. — he said as he came closer to her, putting his hand on the side of her upper back — It's completely understandable, love.

She let go of herself and wrapped her arms around his waist, almost hiding on his chest — You really think so? — he held her back without even thinking of it.

— Absolutely. — he assured, sincere, and left a sweet kiss on the top of her forehead that made her look up.

A smile lingered on her lips as she slightly snuggled against him — I would very much like to move in with you.

He looked down at her, a bit surprised by her words — Are you sure?

— Absolutely. — she said, before leaning upwards to kiss him softly.

He felt so profoundly happy by that one word. He was sure there wasn't another woman in the world for him. Not like her.

[crewhonk]

Not So Different

In which you, Sam, Natasha and Steve are on the run together, and the tension growing between you and Steve pushes Natasha and Sam to be the best meddlers in the world

Warnings: tropes galore (oh my god there was only one bed, mutual pining), Angry!Steve, Shy!Steve, Swearing, blood etc— all the stuff that comes with being on the run from the American government, angst, fluff

Pairings: pining! Nomad!Steve x F!Reader, Sam Wilson x Natasha Romanoff

Words: 2.4K

_______________________

Natasha was about to lose her mind if she were going to be quite honest. Sam was in the pilot seat, trying his best to turn the music blasting through the speakers high enough to drown out the tension rolling off Steves shoulders beside him. Sure, you had made a rash decision that wasn’t completely part of his plan, and sure, he was pissed, but it was because of you breaking through the window of that warehouse that that Australian prostitute ring had been discovered and dismantled. You had lost communication with the team shortly after jumping through the second story window and firing your guns, and Steve’s heart had god damn near fallen out of his feet. There was no way the very heart of this team had been taken out too damn quickly, but his fears were quelled when you limped out of the building, a line of seated women and children behind you and blood soaking the whole of your left side. At the sight of you, someone who he cared for so deeply, alive but bleeding and tired, his fear was washed away by the raging fury he now felt. 

Instead of rushing towards you like Sam and Natasha had, pulling you into their arms and voicing their fears, Steve had just frowned and ordered everyone back to the jet before sending in an anonymous tip to the authorities and taking off towards the Australian coast. He wouldn’t even look at you, and it shattered you more than it should have. 

Your stupidity often paid off in these moments, would have actually made a profit if you hadn’t been shot in the side (“lightly grazed, its no big deal”) and were now pouting in the back of the jet while Natasha tried her damn best to glue you up. 

“You know, he’s only worried about you,” Natasha said, quietly. Y/N winced when Natasha pinched the wound together and waited for the glue to dry. They had run out of sucre thread a month or so ago and were now resorting to Wakandan skin glue— at least until they went home again. 

“Yeah, I know. But he does way more stupid stuff all the time. He has no right to be such a baby about it.” You muttered, gasping as you felt the wound pull and settle back into its place. Nat wiped her hands on a towel nearby and raised. Newly dyed eyebrow at you. She had since dyed her hair from red to black, and as much as you liked the black, you missed the normality of her fiery appearance. 

“He heals before we get on the jet. You’ll have to serve as back up when we go up to Columbia next week.” She deadpanned and rolled her eyes when she watched you squawk. “And he has every right.” She said, staring you down and threw a new, clean shirt in your direction. 

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” You grumbled, pulling it over your head and taking in a shape breath of pain when it touched your wound. You slipped off the medical table and walked towards the booth you and Sam had managed to smuggle into the jet, sitting down beside Nat and flopping your forehead onto the table. 

It wasn’t long until Sam had found a clear enough field to land the plane in, nor did it take long for the four of you to trek through the small to find a dirty, grimy hotel that wouldn’t question the four bruised strangers only willing to pay cash for two rooms. You hiked your pack higher on your shoulder and waited in bated silence with Steve and Sam, the latter of who wanted the very ground underneath him to swallow him whole. There was no way in hell that Sam would be willing to spend a twenty-hour flight over the Pacific when you and Steve looked like you wanted to both punch each other senseless or fuck each other to dust. No way in all that was good was he dealing with that. 

“Nat and I will take one room,” Sam said, grabbing Natasha’s hand and pulling her to the farthest room, closing the door behind them without even looking back. 

“Fucking wonderful,” Steve grumbled when he pushed past you and pulled out the key from his pocket. He jammed it in and disappeared from your line of sight before you even had time to look affronted. 

You followed shortly after and slammed the door behind you. Steve looked up from where he was already laying out maps on the desk and glared at you, eyes raking over your tired body before returning to his work. 

“What the hell is the matter with you Rogers?” You snarled, pointing your finger and dropping your pack onto the bed. You stalked forward and pushed his shoulder when he didn’t look at you. “Answer me!”

“You’re my problem, Y/L/N.” He grumbled, not looking up from where he was trying his best to locate the drug factories you were all to infiltrate in three days. He found it hard to make markings as his whole body shook with rage and fear and the pen snapped in his hand, splotching the map with dark black ink. 

“Excuse me?” You gasped and he stood up to his full height, taking a step forward until the rough material of his torn suit pressed against the soft cotton of your own shirt. 

“You. Are. My. Problem.” He growled. Steve took a step forward with every word, forcing you to take a step back until you were pressed against the door once more, now caged between the wall and one of Steve’s arms. “You are rash. You are stupid under pressure. You are ignorantly brave in the face of danger, and it is a question of the team's safety to have you with us and not in Wakanda.”

You blinked, stunned and at a loss for words at his blunt statements. Sure, Steve was no longer the same uptight Captain that he used to be only last year, but this-this was something wholly dark and you gulped before meeting his gaze. 

“Remind you of someone?” You simply asked and he blinked before frowning and placing his other hand on the other side of the door. 

“Who should you remind me of, Doll Face?” He snarled the last two words and you felt a chill climb up your spine to rest at the crown of your scalp. He ducked his head to put his face close to your own, and his breath washed over your cheeks when he said; “Choose your words wisely.”

“You, Steve. I remind you of yourself. Stupid and brave and smart and unwilling to settle myself to follow some fucking plan.” You pushed him off of you and walked by, ripping your suitcase open and swinging around to jab a finger in his face. His beautiful, stunned, livid face. You could tell he wanted so badly to yell at you, but it would have to wait— you had neighbours on both sides of the wall and didn’t want to raise any red flags by making a commotion. 

“Don’t forget who the fuck you are Steven Rogers. Don’t you forget who I am, either.” You growled, pushing him back against the door to emphasize your words before spinning around and stomping to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. 

____________________________

Your shower did very little to lessen the tension in your shoulders. You watched the shower floor tint pink and red with the clotted and dried blood on your torso and you swore when you wiped a soft cloth over the bruised and puckered wound. Fucking guns. 

You took extra long detangling your hair with the help of the standard hotel conditioner and rubbed some of it on your face— you weren’t allowed to bring anything necessary with you after you had fled from America with the gang, and according to Steve, any form of self-care was wholly unnecessary. 

Fuck Steve. 

It was another hour before you managed to force yourself to open the door, and you Tok a lungful of hair before walking out and actually looking at the room you were to share with Steve. 

The tacky 80’s era wallpaper was peeling in places, and the window was foggy from dust and other mistreatments. The curtains were ratty and the carpet was too thin to actually be considered carpet as far as you thought. There was a desk pressed against the left wall beside a TV that didn’t look like it actually worked which was then beside a luggage rack where Steve had put both your and his packs on it. 

Speak of the devil, he looked like he just wiped himself down really well with the disposable wipes Natasha had stolen from a convenience store when they were in town, and he was already under the white blanket on the bed, reading something on the Wakandan tablet T’Challa has gifted him. You each had one, but you rarely had use for it— being both the youngest and newest member of the Avengers team, you didn’t have enough experience to plan missions or read morse code (you had been learning). You could only play so much solitaire before you wanted to throw yourself out of a window. 

He looked to have changed into a baggy pull over red hoodie, and you assumed his thighs and legs were clad in the dark grey sweatpants that made his ass look great. You heart fluttered a tthe sight of him.

He looked up from his spot on the bed with sad eyes, raking over your body and squinting to map out every bruise and scratch and scar you had on you. Fuck, he hated that you were with him. You were too young to be sacrificing your life like this. Too good. 

Instead of falling into the easy trap of fighting with you, Steve pushed his pride aside and pulled the other corner of the blankets down, not saying anything but also not completely closing himself down to you. 

Wait. 

There was only one bed. 

The bundle of nerves which had been growing ever since your fight with Steve seemed to explode a the thought of having to share a not-too-large bed with Steve. He had been the object of your darkest fantasies for the longest time (literally since grade eight), and now, thirteen-year-old you was actually throwing up. 

“I can sleep on the floor if you want me too—“

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N.” He replied shortly. You had yet to share a bed with Steve. You had shared one with Sam and Natasha before, but everyone knew that something would change if you were forced to climb under the covers with the Captain. It was an unspoken rule that this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Until now. 

You swallowed the anxiety creeping up your throat and balled your hands into fists, forcing yourself to stumble from the bathroom door to the mattress. You curled on the farthest possible edge of it, pulling just enough blanket to cover your body before squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath. 

You only had to wait half an hour before Steve turned off his bedside lamp and settled down to sleep. It was quiet for another ten minutes before he took in a sharp breath and held it before letting it all out and speaking. 

“When I saw you jump through that window and lost communication with you, my heart stopped. You’re so young, Y/N you shouldn’t be out here on the run with us. You should be going to school to become someone greater than a vigilante. You should be pulling all-nighters for exams, not stakeouts.” He whispered against the pressing darkness of your room. An animal yowled int eh distance and you flinched. 

“What if I don’t want to be?” You whispered, back and rolled to face the ceiling. “What if I want to be doing this? I want to be with you. Changing the world in the most effective way possible by your side. What if I’m alright doing this for a while?”

There was a pause and you felt Steve’s hand pat the bed as if searching for something, finding it when his fingers intertwine with your own. He squeezed once, and you squeezed once back. 

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His voice sounded tired and weak and your grip on his hand tightened. 

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, Stevie.”

_____________________________

When Natasha and Sam woke up, they packed up and cleaned the room, collecting any visible traces fo them being in the room at all before walking towards your room and opening the door with the spare set of keys they were given. 

The sight they walked in to was well worth all the anxiety and pressure of the previous night. 

You looked tiny, but well rested in the bed. Blankets concealing half of your face and snuggled deeply into Steve’s broad chest. He had a heavy arm wrapped around your waist in an iron grip, soft sweater making him look more like a large lumberjack than a wanted man. He had his face buried in the nape of your neck, nose in your hair and snoring lightly. His right leg was wrapped around your own, left leg circled over your hips, pinning you both to the mattress and to him. 

In another world, Natasha and Sam would see this picture, and see two people so in love they were completely afraid to be too far from each other. They would spend most of their free time together, and when they were forced to be apart, they would send short, but sweet text messages to each other to remind each other of how much the other person cared. 

But, seeing this in this world, maybe it wasn’t so different after all. 

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends ch //3

pairing: TBD x reader

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wc: 1428

Ch 3: New Month, New Plans

“Mom and dad are back,” Atsumu jokes as you and Iwaizumi come back from your food run. Rolling your eyes you set the boxes of pizza you were holding on the table. “Mom, can ya make my plate.” Kurro’s laugh fills the living room as he chimes in. “Yeah please, we’re so hungry. Dad, can I have something to drink.” Iwaizumi throws the roll of paper towel at Kuroo to which he catches flawlessly. “I hate this band.”

“I second that Iwa.” You then proceed to wash your hands, taking some paper towel from Kuroo who had joined you in the kitchen. You ignore Kuroo’s quip about both of you loving the band as you maneuver around the tight kitchen. “How many slices do you want Tsumu,” you yell from across the bar separating your kitchen and living room. “Wait, are you really going to do it?” the drummer questions glancing up from his phone to see his three bandmates trying to move around the too small space. “If it keeps your ass from trying to squeeze in here too.” 

“I knew you loved me. 3 please.” With that, you move into your cabinet to grab 2 plates, turning around and running straight into Iwaizumi who is holding a can of beer. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Hajime,” you quickly look around you assess the damages. The majority of the liquid had gotten onto his shirt. “It was my fault (Y/N).” he shrugs as you attempt to dab a paper towel onto his shirt to soak up the liquid.

“So that's what it takes to get (Y/N) to rub on my chest. Noted” Kuroo says, eying the two of you with amusement. That causes you both to look over at your guitarist, you flicking him off as he laughs. “I’m kidding.” he answers, putting his hands up in defense. “Yo, (Y/N) it's cool. Don’t worry about it. We always told you that you needed a place with a bigger kitchen.” You shrug, “None of you have given me bigger kitchen money. Quite sad.” You pick up the plates that you'd placed down before brushing past your drummer to grab pizza for you and Atsumu. “Mind if I toss this in the washer. I can barely stay sane around you three with a dry shirt.”

“Sorry that you're the boring member,” Atsumu yells out. 

“Yeah, sorry grandpa. But, go ahead. Hurry up though so we can get this meeting started.” You decide to tease, not even bothering to face him. Iwaizumi shakes his head, before trying to squeeze past you. A warmth fills the spot on your lower back, from where the drummer placed his hand to gently move you out the way. “Trying to rush us out, I see.” Iwaizumi teases before disappearing through your hallway. “I always want you guys out of here. I hate you all”

A few minutes later the final member of your band makes his way back into your living room, this time missing a shirt. Your eyes trail across the tattoos that littered his body. The dragon that covered his deltoid and onto his chest seemed different. You made a mental note to ask him if he added something to it later. He settles on the bigger couch, next to Kuroo who had been stretched out and taking up your entire couch. He had missed the way you scolded the guitarist for getting more comfortable than you in your apartment, and only shifted once the drummer came. Kuroo’s refusal to move for you caused you to have to share your giant recliner with Atsumu, who claimed he's only sharing his favorite seat with you because you bought him his food. 

“Someone’s been working out, it's getting a little hot in here. Buff daddy Iwaizumi.” Kuroo whistles out, jokingly fanning himself.”

“You wish you were as buff as Iwa,” you say back. Kuroo waves you off before clapping his hands.”Now that we’re all together, let's talk. So April.” You lightly elbow the bassist next to you who was typing away at his phone” You return his glare with a sweet smile as he finishes his text, locking his phone.”

“I know Bauhaus and Dusk Til Dawn, both emailed and wanted us back sometime during the month,” you say. “I didn’t give them a date, because we needed to check our schedules. How's it looking for everyone.” You mentioned two of the bars you guys had performed at previously. This was how Mirrors For Friends ended every month, preparing for the upcoming one. The four of you would get together, and set dates for intended shows, youtube recording days, other social media, practices and everything. All around your regular schedules. Your schedule offered the most flexibility, as you only worked Monday-Friday, but the other guys were a little more complicated. Kurro had to juggle school, and his student teaching. Atsumu had to work around coaching and games, and then Iwaizumi had to work around tattooing and those appointments.

“Only major shit I have this month is a group project with some people in my cohort. I can just schedule that around. Its due at the end of the month”

“I’ll probably have a few more late practices near the second and last weekends. Tournaments are coming up. Gotta whip the little losers into shape.” Atsumu chimes in. “I’m always up for the late night shit though.”

“I have a few sessions this month,” Iwaizumi starts scrolling through his phone. “Most are during weekdays so those are fine, but I do have a few longer sessions. 4 hour tattoo on the first Saturday. Won’t be done until around 8.”

You nod, pulling out your own phone to share a group calendar. “Mark off days and times you guys know don’t work and we’ll go from there.” Two of the three men pull out their phones and you eye the third man next to you. 

“What? Ya told me to put my phone down.” Atsumu smirks from beside you and you withhold the urge to strangle him. “My lovely Iwa. Dearest Kuroo, can one of you please get our bandmate before I murder him,” you saw sweetly staring the blonde dead in the eyes.

“No murdering Atsumu”

“I’ll say you didn’t do it”

The other two members remark simultaneously. Kuroo is clearly the only real friend you have. “Tsumu, c’mon be serious. Please,” you decide to groan out flopping back on the giant chair. “Fine, only cause ya said please.” Atsumu pulls up his phone, flopping back as well resting his head on your shoulder as he fulfils your request. 

“Hey Iwa-” you hum out as you wait for the boys to finish. He gives you a quick look, signaling you to continue. “I think I want another tattoo this month, it's a small one. Think you can squeeze me in during my lunch break?” The shop he worked at was within walking distance of your office, so you heading over there on occasion wasn’t anything unusual. 

“Sure, just let me know when and I’ll make sure I’m already set up for you.”

“Thanks Iwa. You're the best. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Those words also weren’t unusual among you four. Even, to your most annoying bandmate, you tended to remind your bandmates that you did love them. They were your best friends and you all tend to exchange the words to one another. It was a shared sentiment, and was always understood. 

The rest of your evening continued as you all made out your relatively stable plan for the month. You’d all agreed on your performance days. One on the first friday, April 3rd and the other on the third saturday, April, 19. You’d triple checked with the boys to make sure, before quickly sending out your confirmations to the two bars. You all also agreed to get some youtube footage those days, vlogs, and just recording a few covers during your practices. At some point Iwaizumi’s newly clean and dried shirt returned, but not without Atsumu’s joke of missing the good view. 

Shortly after you found your own eyes drooping, your head found its way onto Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Aw look at our little leader. All sleepy n shit.” His annoying voice was enough to almost instantly wake you up.  You heard Kuroo coo something about you being adorable when you're not talking, and even Iwaizumi agreeing and laughing at your expense. “Only time (Y/N) is tolerable.” 

“Yeah, it's time for you all to get the hell out of my apartment.”

a/n: Just a little platonic band dynamic action here. This is me actually getting into plot now. I already wrote out the ideas for the next 2 chapters. Anyways, this au is actually so much fun to write, and while i love my other series and they're more read, this one makes me :). I love writing friendship dynamics so much. 

Anyways if someone wants to be on the taglist hmu.

[lovelyirony]

for @tsatskes, one of the best 

Maria Hill went to the library every day after school. Her dad couldn’t pick her up until five-thirty, when he got off work. This was fine with her, seeing as how she liked to read. 

Maria liked biographies. It was odd for a small child, but she liked them. She learned about politicians, musicians, criminals, and actresses. 

In a biography, most everything is laid bare if the person is dead. Sure the family, if living, has some say and control. But for the most part, you are learning everything about this person’s life. 

Including rumors that maybe weren’t just rumors. 

This is how Maria finds out that people can like girls. 

So it doesn’t feel odd when she stares at Lisa Odenning for a bit too long. She knows that she likes girls. 

But she also knows that it’s...frowned upon. Frowned upon in the way her father scoffs at rainbows, tells Maria to wear a dress to a dance instead of the suit she had wanted to wear. 

“I like pants. Dresses aren’t my thing.” 

“You wanna be a lesbian or something?” 

Maria knows it’s not bad. She knows it, like she knows that sunshine feels good on her shoulders. But her dad makes it seem like that. Like it’s wrong to love someone. 

“So? What if I was?” 

Her dad laughs. He fucking laughs. 

“No daughter of mine is gonna be gay. That’s ridiculous.” 

“I need to go to the bathroom.” 

Tile is hard as she drops to her knees, biting her hand to keep from crying too loudly. But what’s harder is learning the fact that it doesn’t matter if your parents are your parents: 

They’re still allowed to dislike you for who you are. 

She stares at her plate at dinner time when her mother chatters on about her workday, how difficult it was handling a group of fifth graders at a field trip. 

“Maria, how was your day?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine? Nothing else?” 

“Nothing that matters.” To you. 

Her mother says she’ll wash the dishes instead of her brother, and her brother gives her a knock to the shoulder and says a thank you, running out to get his bike and play basketball with friends. 

Maria doesn’t tell her mom what’s wrong when she asks. She doesn’t want to talk to her dad either, who tries to talk to her in a softer voice. 

“Mar, did something happen today that we should know about? You know we love you.” 

You know we love you. you know we love you. Do they? Do they love her? 

Or do they love that they think she is who they want her to be? 

Maria has to know. 

So she says it. 

“I’m gay,” she says plainly. “And I like girls and I always will. That’s what happened today.” 

Her dad’s face grows stony. Her mother doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh what, I don’t?” Maria asks, incredulous. 

“No, you’re confused. You don’t know what you want so you’re acting out.” 

Maria drops the plate she’s drying. It shatters to pieces and a shard cuts her leg. 

Her mom sweeps it up. Her dad doesn’t say anything. Maria walks outside and sits. 

Blood runs down her leg. It dries. She can’t be bothered to clean it up, even when it stains and dries on her pants. 

Her dad comes outside. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“No. I’m really, really not.” 

“You know, we could...ask someone. About those camps that they have.” 

Maria’s face tightens. They want to send her away. 

“What, because I’m not enough?” Maria asks. “Because I’m not your perfect little daughter?” 

“You know, I never said that--” 

“You didn’t have to, I know,” Maria hisses. “You don’t love me. Not really. You can’t bear the fact that you have a fucking daughter who likes girls. Because for some reason that’s the worst thing that could happen to me.” 

He doesn’t say anything. He stands there and looks at her. 

They won’t send her to college. They’re not ending up letting her borrow the car for anything. They think she’ll sneak out to kiss a girl or something. 

That doesn’t bother Maria. 

She’s used to the cold looks and never-there-hugs over time. Her brother doesn’t say anything. She jokes to him that she’ll be cut out of the will. 

“You think they’d do that?” He asks. 

“Of course they will. The only reason mom didn’t make me leave the family is because it would cause a scandal at the next goddamn homes association meeting she has.” 

Maria bikes everywhere. And runs. She gets to be pretty fast. She figures it’s practice for when she’s run out of the house at the end of the year. 

But she ends up stopping a robbery. 

There’s a man who asks if she wants to “try out” in a sense, for a job. 

SHIELD. That’s what they call it. She thinks it’s ridiculous. 

She doesn’t tell her parents when she leaves. 

She takes everything she owns, stuffs it into a duffel bag, and bikes to where her new life begins. 

Her brothers calls her and says that her parents are upset. They’re thinking about calling the police. 

“Tell them I’m okay,” Maria says. “I’ll write them soon.” 

It’s petty, she knows. 

But she writes them back with no letter, just two things. 

The pocket knife her dad gave her. And the necklace that has been passed down for generations from her mother. 

A rejection of family, a severance of ties. She will not talk to them again. Her brother may pass updates on her. 

But judging by her experience in SHIELD, she won’t be returning home. 

They think she shows promise. She’s good in the field, deals with professional heckling in the most professional manner possible, and has a stare that takes most agents at least ten years to earn, and got Agent Barton to do paperwork in less than twenty-four hours. 

She doesn’t say anything about her personal life. They know she has parents that she doesn’t talk to, but that’s it. There’s nothing else to learn. 

At least, until Natasha Romanov enters. She’s a Black Widow. Or rather, Black Widow. She’s the lone survivor, doesn’t suffer fools easily, and likes to know everything. 

She and Clint are friends and joking around within two weeks. She knows where Coulson’s secret stash of coffee is within a week. And most importantly, she finds out Fury’s home address. 

(He lives in a nice house in a cul-de-sac and wears t-shirts and sunglasses on his days off. His neighbor on the right calls him Nick and they sometimes grill burgers.) 

Maria Hill is an enigma. Natasha doesn’t like not knowing. 

Or she does like to not know. She likes the thrill of getting information that you’re not supposed to know. 

There is no possibility of that with Maria Hill, because this job is her everything to her. People know that she doesn’t go home for any holiday, only takes off for health concerns, and doesn’t have any friends that she goes out with. 

Maria is alone. 

But there has to be more. Has to be. 

Natasha follows her home. Or, attempts to. 

She loses her on a subway stop. She’s not even sure how she lost her. 

She gets a typed note stuck to her door in the morning. 

Quit following me. I mean it. 

Natasha is suitably impressed. 

And undeterred. 

“Thanks for the note sweetheart,” Natasha says. “But I’m not gonna stop until I get something good.” She sashays away, looking back. “I like the hair, Maria.” 

Maria Hill is nervous. She hasn’t been nervous in three years. And this woman, this insufferable redhead who has the eyes of danger and a smile that could rival Aphrodite, is driving her insane. 

She is nervous. And that? That is throwing off her whole day. She can’t even drink her coffee because her fingers are so jittery. 

Maria hasn’t had a crush in years. She’s quashed them all down, ignored them. They were on people who were in and out, and she’s...well. Her marriage is to SHIELD. 

Natasha Romanoff is...similar. She’s exactly Maria’s type. Which is dangerous to know. 

She tries not to think about it. Tries to not smile as Natasha asks teasing questions. 

“Well, what’s your favorite condiment?” 

“What does that say about anything?” 

“Gives me some specifics about your past life, Maria darling.” 

“Ketchup,” Maria answers. 

Ketchup does not narrow anything down. Natasha just likes learning about her. 

Natasha learns that Maria has poor circulation, enjoys waking up with no alarm (which is insane), and absolutely adores the color blue. Everything, nearly, is blue. 

There are other, more serious things. Maria doesn’t like talking about her parents. Ever. She has a brother who occasionally emails. He got married a year ago and Maria visited at the wedding reception just as everyone was emptying. She has some drama with her parents. 

And nothing else is revealed about her life. Who her past crushes were. She visits the library when she has a free weekend. 

This is how Natasha finds her in a chair at the local library, reading a biography about Norman Rockwell. Something had seemed off about her all week, her face strange. (Natasha tended to look at Maria’s face. A lot. More than necessary. Clint made fun of her.) 

“He painted the idealized American life,” Maria says. “I like his work. He’s interesting because I probably wouldn’t like him.” 

“Better to see your idols than know them,” Natasha remarks. “Everything okay?” 

Maria is quiet. 

“My brother told my parents where I work.” 

Natasha sits, looks at a biography of some TV host. 

“You know if this one is any good?” 

“Talks too much about family history. Sucks.” 

Natasha picks out another one about Mary Pickford and starts reading. 

They read in silence like that for the better part of an hour. Natasha uses Maria’s legs as her own sort of chair, pressing her back against them. Maria doesn’t say anything but loses her page. 

Natasha gets up, looking at Maria. 

“What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” 

“Doesn’t matter if it’s nothing. It’s affecting you enough so that you’re reading about someone else. Sounds like you want to focus on anyone but yourself.” 

“Didn’t know you talked to SHIELD psychologists,” Maria says, mouth quirking up in a smile. 

“They talk at me. I occasionally listen to fit my needs.” Maria laughs some more, getting up from her chair. The white, plastic library card is between two fingers. 

“Let me check some of these out. Then I’ll sit down at coffee with you.” 

It is awkward. Silent. At first. Maria has the books to the side, pressed against a window. She almost never has her back to the window. This is new. 

“What I tell you cannot be flaunted around the office like the cat just got the cream,” Maria says tightly. “It cannot be bragging like you know of Clint’s circus career or Phil’s quite frankly weird obsession with Cap and Howling Commandoes memorabilia.” 

“Airtight,” Natasha says. “You’re my friend.” 

Maria talks. 

“I don’t talk to my parents. Ever. I’m...I like girls. More than a friend way.” 

“You sound like the biggest dork on the planet,” Natasha teases, smiling. “But continue.” 

Maria shoots her an annoyed glance, but she looks down at her coffee, not annoyed really. 

“I don’t talk to them. They thought it was a phase. They tried to get me to go to church or some weird Christian summer camp. I never did. I mailed back anything of family value. I don’t ever mention them. 

Because I...I never could think of myself as part of that family. And my mom found where I live and now she’s calling me to get dinner. And I kind of want to. But I also don’t want to. I don’t know what to do.” 

Natasha sits back. 

“You know, this makes having dead parents desirable right now.” 

Maria laughs. It’s a horrible joke, in the worst taste, but Natasha makes her laugh. 

“I don’t know everything about this, but I suggest maybe talking with them,” Natasha says. “Only if you want to. If you don’t want to, you’re under no obligation. But figure out what you want to do. It’s about what’s right for you, not what you think someone wants from you.” 

Natasha brings Maria into a hug, cradling her body. It’s the perfect hug. 

“This might be a bad time, but if you ever want to do something...I’d be fine with that.” 

Maria is left struck dumb, a pile of books left next to her. 

She decides that maybe instead of having dinner with people she honestly dreads talking to, maybe she’ll take Nat to the trivia night next Friday at her favorite bar. 

They might win something. 

- 

Natasha gets a handwritten note. 

She can tell it’s left-handed, written in slanted cursive, and written carefully. Handwriting tells a lot about a person. 

Trivia night is next Friday. You want to go? 

-Maria. 

Underneath is her phone number. 

Natasha texts her an embarrassing amount of emojis in response to the question posed. 

Maria texts back. 

I regret liking you 

oh fuck. 

hehe :) thanks maria i like you back 

Not the worst confession. Not the worst response. It’s a nice start. 

(Fury wins ten dollars. Maria does not like this.)