#dream: [mulling] acceptable

[elegyofthemoon]

i might be dumb as rocks lmao

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-��

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[astraystayyh]

In my dreams

Seungmin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. my interpretation of in my dreams by tearliner, love X stereo.

Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.

skz song series

cw: reader has anxiety and deals with lots of self-doubt and insecurities.

a.n: the end of our skz song series!! and a pretty personal final fic, this one is based on my own experience with anxiety, so it might differ for everyone :) thank you for reading as always <3

You watch, a soft smile on your face as two little girls play with one another in the playground. It reminds you of simpler times, when you could just walk up to another human and become friends with them instantly.

But reality is much more challenging, especially for someone like you, constantly plagued by their anxious thoughts.

Anxiety didn't tiptoe into your life, one drop at a time so you'd get accustomed to its overwhelming presence. Instead, you woke up one day and it barged into you, through cracks and dents you didn't even know existed in your being, and then it made itself a permanent home within the confines of your heart.

You never truly learned how to live with this parasite feeding off your soul, draining you completely until you became a mere shell of who you once were. You never fully adjusted to the invisible hands choking you from within, to the voice nagging you in the back of your mind, telling you that something horrible was bound to happen.

Because nothing ever went wrong, day after day, nothing bad happened. And yet, the feeling of dread persisted and lingered until you started to believe that the problem was you.

And once you opened the door to self-doubt, you could never fully close it again.

You're too overwhelmed, too nervous, too much of everything bad. Your conversations are scrutinized, down to every syllable you uttered, to the way you smiled and how you laughed. The interactions might differ but the regret that haunts you after is the same.

So, you diluted your being, in an effort to be more acceptable, easier in the lives of the people around you. You believed that if you pleased everyone you ever encoutered then at the end you must satisfy yourself too.

You sigh softly, drumming your fingers along your knee. You’re starting a new year in college tomorrow. Your first one wasn't exceptional by any means. Aileen, the girl who sat beside you from time to time was nice, and you grabbed coffee sometimes as you prepared for your exams together. But she had other friends, ones she's much closer to, ones she invited to her birthday party, ones who she didn't simply fill her free time with.

You shake your head, putting a stop to the thoughts in your head before they get too much once again, pushing you over an edge you don't want to be in right now. 

You'll try harder this year. You'll be okay, for once.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Your professor Lee is scribbling something on the large whiteboard, as he waits for the class to fill up. Someone sits next to you, and the smell of their cologne wafts to your nose- hints of vanilla and wood seemingly calming down your nerves. You quickly take a glance at them, to find a guy with long brown hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He's taking out his notepad from his bag, and you smile at the chick keychain he has on it. He catches you looking and you quickly avert your gaze, heat creeping up your cheeks. 

"Hi, I'm Felix," he greets enthusiastically, and you turn your head slowly to be met with his wide grin. It softens his features, making his eyes turn into moon crescents. You envy his ability to smile without overthinking how he looks. 

"Yn," you introduce back, and he nods, the grin still etched on his face. "You were in my Economics class last year, no?" he asks and you tilt your head to the side, as you mull over his question.

"I was but I don't remember seeing you," you admit sheepishly and he waves a hand in the air, not bothered the least by your words. 

"It's okay, I just remembered your presentation on Inflation. I finally understood why we can't just print more money," he admits with a chuckle, and you giggle against your will. 

"I don't blame you, it sounds like an easy solution," you agree, and his eyes widen. 

"Right! when I tell my friends they just stare at me in disappointment."

You laugh at his adorable pout, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within your chest. He's nice. 

"I'm glad I helped you then, I was so nervous presenting it," you clear your throat as he smiles impressively at you. "Really? I couldn’t tell at all." 

Mr. Lee calls for your attention and you both turn your heads back to the board. You couldn’t really focus, Felix’s words echoing in your head like a broken mantra- he couldn’t tell you were nervous. A sudden relief dawns on you at the possibility that, maybe, not everyone is aware of the neverending storm raging within you, threatening to drown you at any giving moment.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"Movie night at my dorm?" Felix proposes as he packs up his bag, your two hours long class finally done.

"Will Seungmin be there?" you ask, a slight edge to your voice and Felix pauses, shaking his head at you.

"Yn, you're overreacting. I promise he doesn't hate you."

"Have you ever seen him smiling at me?" you ask, arching your eyebrow expectantly at him. He stays silent and you wiggle your finger in the air. "Exactly! Please tell me he won't be there."

"About that... He's helping me bake the cookies," Felix smiles sheepishly and you groan, falling dramatically on your seat.

"I’m not coming."

"But the cookies," Felix pouts, and the promise of the chewy baked goods is so enticing it makes you second-guess your decision.

"The cookies...," you whine, and Felix giggles grabbing your hand to pull you up.

"I’ll see you at 5?"

"Yes," you concede, a small smile on your lips. You wait until Felix bids you goodbye for it to finally slip from your face.

Seungmin has never liked you, from the moment Felix introduced you to him. You still remember it clear as day, the way his eyes slightly widened when they fell on you, before narrowing down. How he didn't utter a single word when Felix left you both alone to get your drinks. Your panic grew as an uncomfortable silence reigned on the both of you, and you racked your brain for something to say to cut through that eerie quiet.  

"Seungmin, right?" you asked, a bit too cheerfully, and you winced inwardly at your tone. He didn't reply, only humming back. It was so faint you wouldn't have caught it had you not been staring at him intently.

"What's your major?" Your voice cracked.

"Computer science." He replied curtly, and you waited patiently, expecting him to return the question. He didn't. And you shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Maybe he just didn't do well with strangers. Maybe he wasn't a chatty person, to complement Felix's extroverted nature.

But you were wrong. You watched in complete astonishment as he teased Felix relentlessly, a wide smile on his face. It made his eyes soften, a newfound fondness itching itself on his expressions. He laughed and he joked and you felt yourself shrink more and more, this way he wouldn't notice you anymore, wouldn't glare at you as if you did something horribly wrong to him.

Felix tried to include you as best as he could in their conversation, but you tuned it out. It was hard to focus on their talk when there was a tumultuous one ongoing in your mind. Seungmin's behavior just further cemented every horrible idea you held about yourself. There is something wrong about you, and he can see it. You may have fooled Felix but you didn't fool Seungmin. If you were him you wouldn't talk to you either.

Every encounter with Seungmin since then left you feeling fifteen years old again, in a classroom full of unkind eyes zeroed on you. You tried to talk about his interests, to string along a normal conversation, one that would reassure that your first encounter was a wrongful impression.

But he did not like talking to you, only offering short replies in response. It’s as if his tongue was tied in your response, and in return it only magnified the knot in your stomach. You went through every conversation with him a million times in your head, trying to pinpoint what exactly went wrong. What warranted him to be so silent in your presence, and yours only, as if you weren’t worthy of a simple conversation. And the answer always tied back to you.

So, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past month, sparing him the chore that is existing near you. It was particularly hard since Felix was his best friend and roommate, and surprisingly he actually enjoyed spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time before Felix started to hate you too.  

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"You're moving too much," Seungmin chastises and you freeze in your place at his words. You are sitting on the couch of Felix’s dorm later on that day, a horror movie playing in the small TV before you. Felix decided to lay on the floor, buried in a pool of yellow blankets, and a long pillow that weirdly had the picture of one of their friends printed on it. "It's my safety net," he explained and you didn't question him any further.

For some reason, Seungmin decided to sit next to you, instead of the opposing couch. Granted, he can see the TV more clearly from here, still this is the first time he willingly went somewhere near you, let alone talked to you.

You decide to ignore him, too focused on predicting the next jump scare, your feet tapping the floor furiously. But still, it happens so abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from you, anf you clutch the edge of the couch even tighter.  

"Close your eyes," Seungmin speaks suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at him, confused. 

"There is a jump scare coming soon," he clears his throat, "just... close your eyes if you don't want to see it." 

You comply without much thought and soon enough, you can hear a shrill scream coming from the screen. He was right. 

"It passed," he says softly, and you tentatively open your eyes once again. There is a foreign expression on Seungmin's face, one you haven't seen before, but it passes as quickly as it came, like a dream slipping between your fingers as soon as you wake up. 

"How did you know?" you ask, hugging your knees tightly to your chest. 

"I already watched this movie."

"Really? Why are you watching it again?"

"Because. I had nothing better to do," he says, almost defensively, his hand now covering his mouth as if he had to physically stop the words from spilling out. 

You don't reply, turning back to look at the screen. Seungmin doesn't tell you when a jump scare is coming next, he simply taps your arm, and you close your eyes on cue. 

His hand brushing against your bare skin feels weird, not uncomfortable by any means, but it still is a foreign sensation. You didn't know he had such soft hands, and you always imagined them to be cold. But they are warm, and you wonder what other things about Seungmin you've been wrong about.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"I'm so tired," Felix groans, laying his head on your shoulder and you giggle, patting his head in mock sympathy. It's been three months since the start of your year, which means that the assignments are starting to pile up on you all.

"Me too," you sigh, and Seungmin stays silent next to you. Felix dragged you both to this coffeeshop, a little outing to recharge his spirit, as he texted you. You're slowly getting used to Seungmin's brooding presence. He talks to you a little more, even cracking a few jokes here and there. But you’re still wary of him. You keep your guard up just in case he forcefully brings a mirror to your face once again, reminding you of everything you despise about yourself.

"I'll go order, it's my treat. Pick a place for us?" Felix says and you nod, walking ahead of Seungmin towards a table near the back.

You sit down first, and Seungmin follows second, sitting right across from you. You quickly bring out your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the apps to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"You have a presentation tomorrow, right?" Seungmin speaks up, startling you, and you slowly put your phone down.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Felix told me that it makes up 25% of your grade. Are you nervous?"

"A little," you admit, even though ‘a little’ didn't even begin to cover it.

"Don't be. You'll do well," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You almost feel as if you've imagined it before it dissipates.

"Thank you," you nod, as Felix brings the tray down your table.

"Is this for me?" you ask tentatively, pointing to the strawberry milkshake, a sore thumb sticking out between the iced americano, and the hazelnut Frappuccino, Seungmin’s and Felix’s respective go to orders.

"They got the order wrong. I got you an iced matcha," Felix pouts, double checking his receipt.

"It's okay," you smile slightly. There was nothing you despised more than having to change up your order.

"You don't want to drink this," Seungmin says, staring at you expectantly and you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "I don't mind."

Seungmin stands up, grabbing the drink from your hand before taking the receipt from the table. He goes to the counter and you watch in astonishment as he comes back, a green drink in hand this time.

"Here," he hands you your cup, before grabbing his own and sipping from it. Your drink is cold, but the warm tingles spreading through your being at his sweet gesture outweigh any other feeling.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Talking in front of 267 people never gets easier.

You memorized your presentation; you rehearsed it so much you could probably recite it with your eyes closed. Yet, the nerves still found a way to weave themselves inside you. Your hands were shaking, so much you couldn't even stare at the notes you prepared. Your palms were sweaty, blood rushing rapidly to your ears, tuning out your voice as you spoke.

You can’t even recall what you said exactly, it’s as if your body had a mind of its own, your mouth moving itself without you commanding it. You aren’t sure how it was, but someone smiled at you reassuringly from the first row, and the professor clapped, so you assume you did okay.

The class finally ends, your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving in their trail an excruciating exhaustion. You rub your eyes tiredly, as you slowly walk out of the door, before stopping in your tracks when you notice Seungmin leaning against the wall, hands buried in his varsity jacket.

His eyes are closed, a pair of earphones dangling across his chest. But then, as if he feels you looking at him, he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on you. You stay put in your place as he walks to you, his bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. He hooks his thumb underneath the strap, keeping it in place

"How was it?" he questions, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he was asking about. Your presentation. Was he waiting for you?

"I think I did well?" you reply, but it comes out more of a question to which he giggles softly.

"Are you asking me?" he teases and you roll your eyes playfully. "I did well," you repeat and he smiles, nodding a bit. "I’m sure you did. Here." He opens his bag, taking out your favorite chocolate bar from it- it had bits of caramelized pistachio and almonds in it. Seungmin doesn’t like it, he prefers plain milk chocolate, as Felix told you one day.

"Eat this, I ended up buying two by mistake, I still have an extra one at the dorm." You grab it from his hands, and he quickly leaves before you could properly thank him.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

You always dread the days you'd wake up with a heavy weight crushing your chest.

You try to distract yourself, try to focus in class and take notes. You try to laugh at Felix's jokes and savor the brownies he just brought you. But you can't. It feels as if you're a cup filled to the brim, each passing second bringing you closer to when that fateful drop would finally make you overflow. And you could do nothing but watch yourself unravel.

Seungmin's eyes never leave you, and it only makes your anxiety spike. It feels as if he's peering inside your soul, witnessing how a cord ties itself around your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You can't speak anymore, every word you say threatening to make tears spill out of your eyes. You aren't sure you can make them stop if they ever start falling.

Nothing happened, nothing's happening, you try to remind yourself. But you are scratching your hand incessantly, and you feel an overwhelming need to flee. To run away, somewhere where only you would witness the display of your broken soul. So you sputter a meek excuse, and then you stand up and head to your dorm.

It's raining outside, and you don't have an umbrella. But you are grateful for it, since the rain mingles with your salty tears, shielding them from the curious eyes of the people passing by. You need to get home, you need to hide somewhere and you need to remember how to breathe-

"Yn," a hand grabs your forearm and you startle, instinctively taking two hurried steps back. It's Seungmin. He removed his blue hoodie and he's now placing it over both of your heads.

"What are you doing? You'll get sick," he sounds mad, and you can't take his disappointed tone anymore.

"I'm having a bad day and I don't need you to make it worse," you say, startling yourself with the raw emotion in your voice.

He physically recoils from your words, his arms faltering as he gazes at you, a wounded look in his eyes. "I make your days worse?" he asks quietly and his voice sounds so small, you can't help the regret that courses through you.

"Come on, Seungmin," you chuckle warily, "don't you hate me?"

"No?"

"Hate is a strong word, okay. You dislike me."

"I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Because you never wanted to talk to me, from the moment we met. And it wouldn't matter if you were this way with everyone, but it's only me. And you make me feel so small each time I'm around you," you ramble angrily, as Seungmin's eyes widen with each passing second.

"Yn, yn, I don't- I didn't know you felt this way, but I don't hate you. I truly don't, I promise you," he's panicking, voice growing higher with each word, and you feel a sudden embarrassment flood your being for lashing out at him.

You don't know what to say and he sighs, looking up at the cloudy sky before meeting your eyes once again.

"This is embarrassing, God, um..." he places his hoodie on top of your head before running a hand through his face. "I don't talk to you because you make me nervous." 

"I do?"

"Yes. A lot," he chuckles, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. "I just... I find you very interesting, and funny, and I like watching you, not in a creepy way, my God what am I saying," he whines, hiding his face in his hands and you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth.

"Don't laugh," he pouts and you nod, willing the smile to disappear from your face. 

"I like watching you exist. Just laugh and smile and talk. You look very pretty doing it. I just don't know how to deal with it. That's on me."

This time the smile is effectively gone from your face. The weight of his confession distracting you from the turmoil of emotions that swirled within you.

"I'm sorry, for making you feel that way. I never meant to. For what it's worth, you make me feel like a small kid again, as if I'm having a crush for the first time." 

A fresh wave of tears brims in your waterline, and Seungmin's eyes soften at the sight.

"Please don't cry," he says, gently wiping the rain droplets from your cheeks. "I don't hate you, I think I like you too much and that's the problem." 

I'm sorry I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away

"Okay," you say quietly, your mind not yet registering what he said, too busy focusing on his hands on your face. You can't believe you've ever felt invisible because of Seungmin, when he's looking at you like you're the most precious being in the world. 

"You had a bad day?" he asks, his knuckles brushing against your cheek tenderly, and you nod, silently. 

"Would you like a hug?" he asks, and you nod again. A hug sounded nice. 

He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. His t-shirt is cold, clinging to his now wet skin. But a surprising warmth emanates from his chest, shielding you from the pouring rain- it travels from his body to yours, as if it's a familiar path, one it underwent a million times before. His hand finds your back, and he pats it gently, following a soothing rhythm, one you try to sync your breathing to. "You did well," he whispers, "you always do well," and his words feel like a patch of shade on a scorching day.

You exhale softly, tightening your arms around his waist. You think you can stay here, for a while. You could rest in Seungmin, now and tomorrow, and maybe for the following months. If he still likes you this much. 

Bonus 

"I'm ready," Seungmin says, his soft hair tickling your bare skin. He's laying on top of your stomach, black tie undone, a piece of crumpled paper in his hands. You can tell he's nervous, with the way he looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. You lean down, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head. He closes his eyes, his hold on the yellowed paper slightly faltering.

"I'm all ears," you whisper, and he smiles softly at you, before looking at his written vows- the ones you decided to read to each other after your wedding ceremony, just the two of you, in your personal bubble. It feels much more intimate this way, they are words meant for you only to hear, after all.

"My love," he starts, and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay. "If I'm reading this it means I finally married you, which is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life." You giggle and he can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh.

"I am writing these vows one year into our relationship, I haven't proposed yet, but I just know you're the one I want to marry. And I suppose I don't want to forget everything I want to say to you, when that day comes." His words make your breath hitch in your throat as realization dawns on you- he wrote this three years ago, and he kept it safe, till this day.

"I still remember when I saw you for the first time. I couldn't talk because you looked so pretty, and you were smiling at Felix and I felt an overwhelming need to be the one you were smiling at. I think you cast a spell on me because I couldn't even ask you about your major back, I couldn't believe how awestruck I was. But you already know this, don't you?" He looks up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and you smile widely. You still remember when Seungmin recounted the first time you met, from his perspective. Rosy cheeks and fumbling words as he explained how much he felt for you in that instant, and how little he could express it.

"But there are still things I haven't told you," he clears his throat. "Like how Felix told me what horror movie he was planning to watch with you, and I looked it up the night before, to memorize all the jump scares just in case you were afraid. And you were, and I'm glad I did. I don't even like horror movies, but it was worth watching it three times in a row, just for you."

"Also, how I had to run out of my class to yours, so I'd catch you after the end of your presentation. I bought that chocolate only for you. I kept a stack of fifteen bars hidden in my desk, just in case you were feeling down, and you ended up needing it. I kept asking Felix about everything you liked, and disliked, and he was probably sick of me at that time," he chuckles, as memories of begging his roommate for any bit of information about you flooded his mind.

"I don't know how far into the future it'll be when I'll finally read this to you. I don't know how I'll be, or where I'll be, but as long as you're with me then I must be okay. I used to overthink everything, plan every part of my life so it'd run smoothly. That is until you came into my life, so suddenly, and you flipped it upside down. I didn't care to plan my life anymore, all that mattered is that it revolved around you," he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.

"I knew I wanted to marry you when you took me stargazing. You talked about the stars and galaxies so excitedly. And then you brought up Saturn; how it was unique among the planets, adorned with thousands of ringlets. And I remember thinking that you're my saturn, you're the dazzling planet that everyone admires and I'm the ring spinning around you, the one you're keeping afloat. And as long as you're here, I have a purpose and I'm okay. So please..." his voice wavers, as silent tears slip out of his eyes.

"Don't leave me. I know we're married now, but still, don't leave me. I love you. I feel like I've loved you in different lifetimes, in different earths and timelines. Everything can come crashing down around us, but one thing that'll forever remain the same is my love for you. I was made to love you, after all. My eyes were made to look at you, and my hands to graze your cheeks. And my heart... My heart was made to beat for you. And I love you. I feel like I don't say it enough but I truly love you. As long as I'm breathing then I'm yours."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The woman doesn’t say a word as she gets in the car. You don’t either. The tension in the car is like the sound of glass about to break. Each breath is another crack. 

The fourth passenger in the car is your confusion. You’re not quite sure why you’re still there. The job is done, right? And this is business. Not your business. You don’t ask. Questions are a bad idea with these kind of people. 

Rogers drives out of town. The old warehouse is ominous and you’re happy you’re not the one he tells to get out. The woman doesn’t hesitate even as you can sense her uncertainty. You only get a brief glimpse of her as she goes as the car pulls away swiftly. 

He retraces the same route. He clears his throat as he passes the city marker. “We needa talk,” he says. 

“We do?” You eke out. 

He sighs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, “look, I’m taking you home. You did your job.” 

“Oh, okay,” you fold your hands in your lap. 

“So, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. Discretion,” he intones. 

You thoughtfully mull the world. As far as you’re concerned, the moment you’re out of the car, it’s all behind you. Just a weird fever dream you can forget about. 

“Not that anyone should ask but if they do, you know nothing.” 

He stares at you intently. His blue eyes are bright despite the shadows, as his beard and hair swallow up the dark. He really is a frightening man. You’re fortunate to be walking away. You know that at least. 

“Sure,” you agree. 

“Open the glove box. Your take is in there,” he says. 

You lean forward and do as he says. You take out the envelope. It’s stuffed with bills. That won’t be suspicious at all. You’ll deposit it a little at a time. Wait, should you accept this? It’s blood money, isn’t it? 

“All yours. I’m sure you can figure out something to do with it,” he says. 

You recognize the streets around you. Your neighbourhood isn’t the nicest but it’s home. For now. You watch through the window as you ponder your deal with the devil. You won’t argue with him but you could always give the money to a good cause. 

He pulls up to your building and you tuck the envelope in your purse. That’s it. It’s over. It’ll just be a funny story to tell in twenty years when the heat’s off of you. People won’t believe someone like you had a brush with danger. You can hardly believe it yourself. 

“I’ll stay here til you’re inside. Make sure you don’t have anyone tryna snatch your purse,” he says. 

You look at him, “what are you walking about?” 

He squints and his lashes flick. He shakes his head, “what?” 

“Who are you?” You ask. 

His lips part and he pauses before he speaks, “you hit your head?” 

“Discretion,” you say. “Remember? I don’t.” You tap your head and pull the door handle, “have a good night. Or, er, life.” 

You shut the door gently and turn away. You let out a breath and march staunchly up to the front door. You sense him watching you but you’re not bothered. It’s over. You’re free. 

You go inside, certain to pull the grate door closed heavily before you continue up to your unit. As you get inside, you let your shoulders drop and hang your head back. No more scary men and hopefully, no more fainting. 

You take out your phone and find it just as lifeless as ever. You have a few notices to keep up your game streak but nothing important. Just an email. 

Wait. Before you can swipe it away, your brain catches the name. You applied to the firm months ago. Please, don’t be another rejection. 

You open it, one hand on your phone, the other stirring around for the envelope in your bag. You carry both through the front room of your apartment and into the bedroom. You tap the email to open and put the phone down to look for a hiding spot. 

You tuck the money under your mattress and reclaim your cell. You sit on the bed and read. It’s an offer for an interview. Great timing too. The sooner you can get out of this city, the better. You’ve seen its dark underbelly. No thank you. 

You reply, drafting your acceptance several times before sending. Content, you stretch out the last of the tension. You feel bad for all those people; the man that Rogers beat in the middle of the road, Warren, and whoever that woman was in the backseat. Still, all you have is your empathy. You can’t do much for any of them. 

The night passes so dully that you can almost believe you dreamt the last three days. In the morning, you’re back to the usual, though it doesn’t feel quite so. You get dressed, pack your lunch, and set off for the firm. 

You greet Geraldine as she unlocks the front door of the office. She’s happy to see you. You’re less than happy to see your desk. There’s a dozen post-its stuck to your keyboard. Each with a name and file number. That’s everything you have to catch up on, all scribbled in Brenner’s tight lettering. 

You sit and stack them up neatly. Brenner shows up an hour later. He’s hung over. You can tell by how he keeps his sunglasses on and goes through coffee like a siphon. 

Neither of them acknowledge your absence. They don’t ask and you don’t mention it. If all things go to plan, soon enough, your desk will be filled by someone else. 

You get through a couple post-its before lunch then check your phone. You have a time and date for the interview. Things are moving along. You’re already fantasizing about giving your two-week notice. 

You’re going to be out of here, onto greater things. Just like you set out for. Well, it’s just an interview. You need to be practical about this. One step at a time. For now, you need to shovel through the pile of shit before you. Fresh air is just around the corner. 

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 7

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

Masterlist here

-🐺-

When you opened your eyes the world was drowned in darkness and you were in an unfamiliar room, sapping warmth from an oversized lump in the sheets. At first you froze like a statue, flicking your eyes around to see if you could make anything out. It was clear enough that you weren’t in your own bed, but even your advanced eyes couldn’t make a single thing out for the lack of any light. 

The lump groaned and shifted, sprawling out like a tiger skin rug before retracting again. A heavy weight draped itself round your mid section, an arm you realised, that caused you to curse and pant for inside it’s unyielding hold. Ghost. Who else had arms the size of iron girders? 

It should’ve been obvious to you, but your mind had been too foggy in the aftermath of your unexpected sleep. Had you taken a second to scent the air, you would’ve been greeted with his relaxing scent, but instead you’d fumbled around like a bear coming out of hibernation. At that realisation you scrunched your eyes closed and then opened them again, still feebly trying to see through the oppressive black of the room. It had to be Ghost’s room that you were in, the place was practically painted with his citrusy scent, with undertones of sage ever present and invading.

“Y’alright, Pup?” a groggy voice called out. 

It sounded as if a pile of rocks had shifted from right next to you. Your ears twitched back at the sound and all at once you relaxed in his loosened grip, turning around to face him. Your noses were inches from touching. Not that you could see his, but you could feel the steady streams of his breaths trickling out from his sleepwear body.

“Um…yeah” you whispered, unsure of how to answer. “Why’d you take me to your bed?” 

He yawned and uncurled his arm from your body, instead using his hand to trace little patterns up your arms. 

“You seemed upset when I left you in yours. Only calmed down and stopped whinin’ when I let you curl up here,” he explained, sounding as if he was moments from drifting off again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said hastily. 

You couldn’t believe it! Why would you have whined at being left to sleep alone? Why would you stop when you got to sleep in Ghost’s bed? The revelations had you frowning and feeling markedly warmer than you already were. Your mind whirred at the idea that Ghost had witnessed you mewling like a little puppy at having to sleep in your own bed. 

“I know. I didn’t want you having bad dreams after what happened yesterday, so I thought it was for the best,” he said simply, as if what he’d done was completely normal. 

“I can handle those,” you said weakly. 

“You don’t have to.”

You gulped down a thick lump in your throat and let the silence settle over you both. Though the room wasn’t completely quiet of course. Ghost’s steady breathing and the sound of your own pounding heart rattled around in your ears. Though your chest calmed its frenzy when Ghost drew you close again, urging you to burrow your head under his chin and into the soft cotton of his worn shirt. 

The two of you stayed silent for a time after though neither of you fell asleep. Instead the time was spent mulling through your sluggish thoughts, wondering distantly if you should be trying to leave. 

“I think you should reconsider your nesting situation,” Ghost said suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“What?”

“You have a lot of bad dreams most nights. You were peaceful last night though,” he explained softly.

“Do they wake you up?” you asked, brows knitting together in worry. 

You’d woken plenty of times before in your old barracks from others' bad dreams and in turn woken the others with your own. It wasn’t lost on you how annoying it was to try to get to sleep after being jolted awake and kicked into an adrenaline rush, lying there in the grey light of almost dawn with a pounding heart and the knowledge that you’d have to get to work again soon. 

“Nah, told you before - I’m not a good sleeper. If I knew there was something that helped though I’d make sure I got to sleep properly every night.”

You huffed out an embarrassed laugh and shook your head, feeling his stubbly chin scratch the top of your head. It was only then that it occurred to you that he was maskless again. You wondered if that meant he was getting more comfortable around you, just as you were him.

“It was probably just a fluke,” you murmured, trying to hide your interest. “I’m not gonna hoard your clothes like some feral squirrel, Ghost.” 

He laughed at that, the bassy tones reverberating through his wide chest and against your warming skin. 

“It’s not hoarding and it doesn’t have to be my clothes. I can give you my duvet or I could get you a new blanket and sleep with it for a bit if you like, if that would make it feel more natural.”

“It’s not natural, its weird,” you huffed. 

“You’re a hybrid, S’not weird,” he affirmed, stroking circled down your back. “It’s normal for you to need comforting scents and materials. My old partner used to keep a nest, we had an arrangement and it was fine.”

At that your ears flicked in curiosity. He’d never mentioned this ‘old partner’ before. All at once your mind flooded with questions and as it worked hard to process them all, you could barely hold onto one tightly enough to ask it. 

“You had a hybrid before me?” you eventually said, voice small and unsteady. 

Ghost paused. It was if he’d only just realised what he’d just said. 

“Another wolf,” he confirmed, throat swelling and tense. “We were paired up after I passed my handler qualification. It was a long time ago - feels like a lifetime really. Spent four years together, he used to cuddle up with me just like this in my stupid little barracks bunk when he had rough nights.”

The elephant in the room stared down at you from on high. There was no avoiding it’s almost tangible bulk. So you asked the question that wanted to leap off the tip of your tongue. 

“What happened to him?”

Ghost was ready for that, answering quickly. Though it didn’t sound like it hurt him any less to say it when it was spoken through gritted teeth.  

“Killed in action.”

“Oh…I’m- I’m sorry.”

Was that the right thing to say? When other hybrids you’d worked with had died, there usually weren’t many mourners if any, though that was because you were under the care of Branhaven. You’d only met a few hybrids before that were in the care of handlers and it had been obvious that you’d always been intrinsically different from them, that they had far more value to their teams than you ever did as an unclaimed hybrid.

“Roach was a good lad,” Ghost said eventually. “He taught me alot in our time together, made me sharper with all his…’quirks’. Used to steal anything of mine that he could get his grubby little mitts on and drag it off to his bed, so to be honest it was a bit of a shock when I realised you weren’t going to be the same.”

Ghost laughed a little despite the sadness that tinged his careful words. 

“With a name like Roach, I can only imagine what other quirks he had,” you smiled. 

“Oh that one loved to get himself into trouble. I still remember the first time we went out with Price - very long time ago. Roach thought it’d be funny to steal his hat, this is before he started wearing the boonie mind you, at that point it was this old beanie that absolutely reeked of cigars. Found that out because while Price was ranting about having cold ears, I was asleep on top of it, before I got woken up by his bitching anyway. I took it out from under me when I woke up, confused as fuck as to why it was there, and then Price saw it and was going on and on about how childish it was to take it, and then I started arguing back and saying I wouldn’t do something so bloody stupid. All the while Roach was giggling to himself in the corner, the little shit.”

“He wasn’t scared of what Price would do?” You asked incredulously, trying to put yourself in the shoes of a hybrid that didn’t know the intimidating Captain half as well as you did. 

“Roach wasn’t scared of a damn thing, beyond whatever shit he used to dream about anyway. It’s the reason he got called Roach in the first place, his real name was Gary. He used to run headfirst into danger and come out fine almost every time, that’s what they told me when they handed him off to me- ‘that wolf’s like a bug you can’t squash’...Course his luck ran out eventually. We got captured by an enemy group in Mexico and the bastards didn’t see the worth in keeping a hybrid around. Said they only needed me.”

“That’s awful.”

Another silence ensued. It made sense that Ghost had had a hybrid before you, he’d had a long career and he was so knowledgeable when it came to training with you that it made sense that he’d had plenty of first hand experience. Though it made your heart ache to think that he mourned for someone that was ripped away from him so long ago. The way he told those stories, you could hear the emotion etched in every word.

“Didn’t think I’d take on another hybrid on after him,” Ghost sighed, making you tilt your head in question, “but Price told me about you and kept badgering on about me being the only one in the team that was qualified to take you, kept saying that you didn’t deserve to rot away back at your home base and that you deserved a place here. I figured I owed it to him to at least go and check you out and well, I knew you had to be mine the minute I saw ya.”

“You saw a soggy mutt that was getting punished in an outdoor kennel and instantly had that epiphany?” You snorted. 

“A soggy mutt that didn’t deserve to be there,” he corrected. “There was no way for me to have saved Roach while I was tied up and concussed to all hell, I made peace with that a long time ago. I knew that I was able to save you though; doing anything other than untying you and walking out of that base with the angry ball of fur in my arms felt like sacrilege.”

“Angry ball of fur,” you repeated with a tut, rolling your eyes so far back they crept into your inflection.

“You tried to bite me at least twice and you called me Mr.Bonejangles in the car. Angry ball of fur was about right, you little sod! Sitting there all wrapped up in your towel with your grumpy face and hair poking out every which way,” Ghost laughed. “I’m just lucky you calmed down after a good rest. Thought I was gonna have to take to permanently being in handling gloves after that first night.”

“I didn’t try to bite you that much.”

“You did. You were like a hungry crocodile. You had my life flashing before my eyes that day, was praying I’d get to keep all my fingers and toes.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic!” 

Ghost’s laugh echoed around the room, hitting off of unseen walls somewhere inside the shadows. As much as you hated to think about a time before you knew Ghost, and actively tried to fight him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you began to see that day through his eyes. You could only imagine what it must’ve been like to have met you then, knowing about your sketchy disciplinary file and admittedly bad track record for biting and scratching, Ghost couldn’t have had any clue what he was in for. In that moment you couldn’t have felt luckier, pressed into Ghost’s chest and getting to relax against him in his nice warm bed, when you could’ve been left to rot in those kennels.

Moments later, just as you were both settling back into the furrow of the mattress and had adjusted sheets to your liking, a high pitched alarm tone blared out and sent you both groaning. Ghost’s phone lit up from his side, finally shedding a little light into the room. From there you could see his bed was pressed up into the wall, as usual you’d assumed you’d made sure to be closest to the exit - even in your drowsy state. You still couldn’t make out much of the structure of the place. 

“Suppose we better get up then,” Ghost groaned. “C’mon then.”

“I can’t see a thing in here, you’re gonna have to turn a light on or something,” you yawned, stretching out and readying yourself to start the day.  

It was then that he saw fit to snatch the corner of his black out curtains and yank them back, sending you flying under the covers just to save your eyes. The duvet provided you shelter from the cold blue light and from under their safety you actively felt your pupils slowly unshrink from the tiny pinpoints they’d been forced to become. 

“Why would you do that?” You groaned. 

“Reckoned you needed a bit of a wake up,” Ghost shrugged, lifting the cover up so he could meet your eyes. 

As annoyed as you were you were distracted from your grumpiness momentarily by his face. His smug smile was in full view, lips slanting to one side and pulling his scars taught. In the full light of the morning he looked like a weathered statue, bright highlights and harsh shadow carving out his sharp jaw like chiselled stone. You tilted your head at him and in turn he tilted his back in the opposite direction. 

“See somethin’ on my face?” He joked, teeth flashing into view. 

You shook your head and pursed your lips. A little heat rose to your cheeks. 

“Just planning out the perfect place to bite you,” you lied.

“That so?” He asked, a sandy blonde eyebrow raising. “Sounds like I’m just gonna have to get you first then.”

At that he pinched your side and sent you yipping and scrabbling off the bed. Though that wasn’t enough to escape him. He gave chase, leaping off of the mattress, the bed groaning at the change in weight and thumped on the floor. The air blew through the fur in your ears, you ran that fast. Unthinkingly running to your own room before considering anywhere else. 

With that you dove under your bed, dragging your sheets down to cover the space and yanking Simon in just as he’d fallen off the top. Ghost yanked your door open straight after, his bare feet slapping into the wood and taking careful steps forward. He sighed loudly when he reached the edge of your bed and stopped, feet stopping at your chest. 

“I’d like to think you’ve been trained to evade enemies better than this, Pup,” he drawled. 

You rolled your eyes, full well knowing you wouldn’t go running and hiding like that against someone you had full authority to kill. 

Rather than let him crouch down and drag you out, you threw Simon up at him as a distraction and skittered out around him. In a matter of seconds you managed to gather yourself into a crouch and sprang up at his back, wrapping your arms round his shoulders and legs round his middle. From there you gently grazed your teeth against his neck in a fake bite and growled, announcing your victory to the otherwise empty room. 

“Soap’s right, you’re a menace,” he laughed, untangling you from around him and bending backwards so he could set you gently back down on the floor. 

“You brought work into it,” you huffed, folding your arms indignantly.

“Yeah yeah, cheap shot throwing your teammate at the hostile. Poor little fella getting sacrificed like that,” he said, holding out the puppy stuffed toy with a fake grimace. 

“Simon woulda shaken it off, I had every faith in him,” you shrugged, setting him down on the bed carefully so that he rested against the pillows. 

“Simon?” Ghost repeated, choking out a strangled sound that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a guffaw. “You named it Simon?”

“Yeah, after the hybrid from my books,” you said, nodding toward the graphic novels that were stacked by your bedside. “Why's that so funny?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as a few different emotions crossed Ghost’s eyes. He chewed on his lip a second, eyes going wide and zeroing in on your sleeping buddy until he shook himself out of it. 

“Nothing,” he smiled, clearing the awkward edge in his throat. “Good name that. Strong choice. Little Simon.”

“I think it suits him.”

“Yeah…Anyway, we need to get ready and get in for work. I’ve got a bit of a stacked day today, so we need to get you sorted. Gaz and Soap offered to take you through your exercises this afternoon and Price is gonna let you sit in his office till I can come get you in the evenin’. Pack your books so you’ve got something to occupy yourself with tonight, Cap’s not very chatty right now. Oh and remember, if you want anything for your bed just let me know, ok?” 

-🐺- 

Stacked day indeed. Ghost made you run laps through the assault course he’d had set up for you and just before he left, he’d made you practise some bite work with him. The irony wasn’t lost on you after your conversation that morning. He’d donned his leather gloves and neck protector and brought out a fake gun, making you attack him over and over so that you could practise non lethal takedowns.

As good as you were at the exercise, that didn’t stop Ghost from firing a couple foam bullets at you from time to time when you got too out of control, reminding you teresley that you weren’t supposed to be ripping detainees to pieces. As your wilder side took over during your work, you’d bark out raspy growls at him for the cheap shots, knowing full well he shouldn't be able to fire after you’d just decimated his fake arm. However the sensible part of your mind would echo out that it was far better than getting smacked with the plastic batons that your old trainers would carry to discourage your savagery.

“Well well well, what kinda training do you call this?”

Your head turned just as you’d brought Ghost down to the floor and you ceased your growling, tilting your head when your gaze landed on Soap. Gaz joined him at the side of the field moments later, just coming off of a phone call to see you still on top of Ghost. 

“Oh yeah, we’re just having a bit of fun, Johnny. You know how much I love being mauled” Ghost grunted, tapping your thigh in short order. “You can get up now, Pup. Reckon you got me.”

You looked back down at Ghost and let out an embarrassed huff of air before rolling off him and standing up, dusting your dirty fatigues off. Some of the soft dirt smeared down them, leaving what would surely become a rough crust in its wake.

“Can’t believe you get to play with nerf guns and call it work,” Soap laughed, “That or the fact that you took the time to paint that thing black just so that it’d match your gear.”

“Well you’re welcome to take over if you think its so fun,” Ghost grinned, eyes cresting below his mask.

He unbuckled his thick leather gloves and threw them onto the grass at Soap’s feet, then tore the velcro off of his neck protector with a loud scratchy rip. Soap then looked back at you and visibility stiffened up, considering Ghost’s offer like it might be his death sentence. Gaz shoved him and laughed, going instead to approach Ghost and reach out for his gun. 

“Look at this,” he whistled, turning it over and opening up the ammo compartment. “What is this? A ten round? You even got the grey bullets with the red tips. Very nice hardware, Sir.”

“Well it is the Elite Ranger PD-5 Blaster, Garrick. Fine piece of kit, so it is,” Ghost quipped. “Maybe one day you’ll earn your own one.”

“Well now I know what I’m asking Santa for,” Gaz smirked. “So, we taking over here?”

You looked back at Soap again who was eagerly looking at Ghost to find out the answer to that question. Ghost looked back at him and winked, a gesture you only caught because you knew to look out for their antics now. 

“Nah,” Ghost finally answered, roughly raking his hands over your ears. “We made good progress today, I reckon we set Pup on anyone we need back alive, we’ve got a great chance of bringing at least seventy percent of the enemy still intact now.”

“Hey!” you growled. “I can bring people in just fine.”

“Oh sure, you can bring em’ in - in separate pieces of course - but you’ll get the job done,” he drawled, soon producing strangled notes as if he was choking. “‘Sorry sir, I would’ve given you the information but that damn wolf got my tongue.’”

Ghost laughed the way he always did when he was being cheeky, the rasping cackle crooning from his throat like a bear scratching up a tree. You had half a mind to do some scratching yourself, but instead you snatched the nerf gun from Gaz and shot Ghost in the chest a couple times. All of you silently watched as the foam bullets arced into his torso only to bounce off pathetically into the well trodden grass. 

You knew then that you should’ve aimed for his forehead like he’d done to you. 

“Friendly fire, is it?” Ghost questioned.

“Got you back,” you replied, tilting your chin in the air in defiance. 

He tutted at you and mussed up your hair once again, rubbing his hands over your head with enough force to almost knock you back.

“I’ll remember that next time we train together,” he said menacingly, jabbing your side just as he’d done that morning. 

You yelped and rubbed the tender spot, trying not to give into the laughter of the ticklish spot. 

“For now though, you two have the absolute pleasure of learning hybrid hand signals,” Ghost said, directing his attentions toward Gaz and Soap. “Sad that I have to miss such a fun exercise, but I’m sure you’ll have plenty of giggles without me. I booked out building three and left you a handler’s manual open on the page there. I had some corporals set up a basic simulation for you, so you should be good to go once you get in. Anything you’re confused on, Pup should be able to explain.” 

At that you groaned, shoulders slumping with the anticipation of the boring afternoon ahead. Back at Branhaven when they were training up new batches of handlers, you all had to take turns helping them through their coursework and modules - one of which being the hand signal module. That often meant long boring days being slowly and dramatically led around short courses and wildly gestured at until the new recruits were able to get the motions correct. 

“You couldn’t have just let me do more biting?” you sighed.

Ghost chuckled and picked up the rucksack of things he’d set off to the side.

“What? And terrify this one half to death in the process? I don’t think so,” Ghost said, pinching Soap’s cheek playfully. “You’ll survive one slow afternoon. I’ll even sweeten the deal, you keep the nerf gun and if they get something wrong you have my permission to shoot them.”

Soap rubbed at his cheek with a glare and slapped Ghost’s arm away soon after. His blue eyes were all storms and indignation and his jaw was clenched tight as a vice. Meanwhile you were doing everything you could not to yip with obvious delight, settling instead for a slow tail wag. 

“You don’t get to authorise that,” Soap said, rolling his eyes.

“What rank am I again?”

“That doesn-”

“It does actually. Have a good day, Sergeant,” Ghost interrupted, softly pretending to punch Soap’s shoulder. “Do me proud!”

Gaz laughed from next to you and waved Ghost off as he made his escape, narrowly avoiding getting hit by one of the leather mitts he’d set down earlier. Soap didn’t give chase after the failed throw though, instead he just stood grumbling to himself and eventually gathered the gear together and slung it into the holdall that Ghost had neglected to take with him. Once the bag dangled from his shoulder, he turned to you and Gaz and flung his head in the direction of the training buildings. 

“So what’s this about hand signals? We gonna have to make you sit and fetch?” Soap asked. 

“You tell me to go fetch and we’re gonna have problems,” you said, pumping the nerf gun’s ammo chamber for emphasis. 

“Christ in heaven,” Soap muttered, heaving himself off across the field. “The things I put up with.”

-🐺- 

The room was heavy with thick silence as you traversed your way around it. You might as well have been glued to Gaz’s side, one of the few sounds that were allowed to permeate the quiet was Gaz’s breathing and the metallic ting of the ancient filament lights. Every second that you walked, you obsessively watched Gaz’s hands, fixing your eyes on them as if they might hold untold treasures.

This was it, the last run through. Gaz paused at the same doorway you’d had to wait outside at least a dozen times already, and quickly held up his fist for ‘halt’. It helped that it was just the same as the standard hand signals that he’d been taught already. From there he pointed two fingers to his side and signalled for halt again. You nodded and moved next to him, looking from his hands to his eyes in quick succession while you waited for further instruction. 

From there he cupped his hands by his ear and pointed at you. You twitched your ears, adjusting yourself so that you could listen out for any tell tale sounds of Soap skulking around from inside. Though there was nothing beyond the annoying skittering of the old ticking clock inside the fake office, so to confirm the silence you shook your head. Gaz then held his finger to the side of his nose and pointed at you, but you held your palm up and waved your other hand around it. Unclear. Smell was little use when you’d all run the training course together so many times, everything stank of the two men at that point. 

Gaz nodded and thought for a second. Time might as well have been a sound, the continuous buzz of the lights or the shaking hands of the clock behind the door, your senses felt like they were blending into a big mush. You were glad when Gaz finally patted his back and held out his palm and then a single finger, signalling to walk back to back with him and watch his six. 

You nodded again and did as asked, making quick work of slinking through the door as quietly as possible and advancing down the corridor beyond. Gaz looked right and left, checking through the first office room on the right quickly and efficiently and kept things moving down the hallway, readying to advance to the next room at the end of the hallway. This was it, there was only one place Soap could be now, you thought. 

However, just as Gaz was heading down the corridor, you could’ve sworn you heard a noise. A faint almost wooden gasp, but it was something nonetheless. You grabbed Gaz’s arm and forced him to a stop, holding your hand to your ear so that he knew you heard something. He narrowed his eyes, honey irises appearing chestnut from under his shadowy gaze. After another few seconds you heard the sound of something making contact with the floor, hell you could've sworn you felt the vibrations of it at that point.

You looked up at Gaz with wild eyes and motioned your head down the hallway from the office that Gaz had assumed was safe. It wasn’t like there was much to sweep that you hadn’t already looked through on all your other runs, so he hadn’t been sloppy to dismiss the empty space. There was just a single desk with an exposed underside, the wall clock and a fake sink set up. The sink had a cupboard but it also had a slew of fake piping that made it impossible to squeeze inside. Or rather it should’ve. 

As soon as you crept back down the hallway, you both stumbled onto Soap emerging from the cupboard like a spider creeping from a crack. He was all arms and legs as he tried to slyly remove himself from the tiny space and before he was able to see you and Gaz, Gaz blasted him with the nerf gun and you ran toward him, ensuring you were out of firing range and jumped up in front of him. Pieces of loose plastic piping scattered from all around the bottom cupboard, and he just about exploded from his skin when you got your face up close to his.

“Steamin Jesus! How’d you know I was in here?” 

“We didn’t, I heard the cupboard opening though,” you explained, wagging your tail all the while. 

Soap sighed and leaned back into the cupboard clutching his hand over his heart for a moment before sitting back up. 

“I suppose I should be happy you’re on our team with those big satellites, fuzzy lugs,” Soap sighed. 

“Hey!” You whined, flattening your ears. “They’re not big satellites.”

“Well not when you put them back like that,” Soap said, a sly smile piercing through his eyes before it reached his lips. 

“Better big fluffy ears than big fluffy hair,” you huffed. 

“Oooh,” Gaz smirked, “Get ‘im.”

“You canny insult the hawk,” Soap sniffed, running a hand through his messy locks. “Nothing you say will convince me this isn’t stunnin’.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back from Soap, about to let him get up when Gaz stopped you both. He held out his hand and demanded you wait a minute, causing you and Soap to turn to one another and frown until all became clear. 

“Gotta get a good photo of our quarry, Pup. All the best hunters get their trophy photo,” Gaz explained, while holding his phone up and adjusting the angle.

Gaz adjusted his pose, tilting his nerf gun so that it crossed his chin and partially obscured his faux serious expression, meanwhile Soap sat back amongst the loose piping and accepted his fate, holding his fingers to his forehead in a fake gun gesture as if he were shooting himself. You weren’t sure what to do. No one ever asked you to be in pictures that weren’t mandated for the government website, so you didn’t know how to pose. 

At the last minute you tilted your head and pulled out a cheeky grin just before Gaz took the photos, the screen flickering black a couple times before he started tapping at his screen and laughing. He walked over to you both and lowered his screen, letting you see the resulting photo that oozed chaos with the silly toy gun and you and Soap sitting atop the mess of piping.

“Ooft, sexy,” Soap whistled. “Get that up on tinder. You’ll get all sorts of tail with that.”

“Oh yeah, caption writes itself - ‘anyone wanna hold my blaster?’” Gaz sniggered, tapping away again. “That’s going on insta.”

You huffed out a surprise breath at that.

“You’re actually putting that up on your socials?” you asked, frowning. 

Gaz ceased his tapping and tilted his chin up at you. 

“Was gonna, why? do you not want it up?” he asked, showing you the photo again. 

The screen tilted round to reveal a confirmation page with the photo sporting a slightly more dramatic filter. He’d been about to post it with a slightly less ridiculous caption at least ‘Mission success: blockage identified - Soap too big for the sink.’

That didn’t stop you from snorting at it of course. 

“I don’t mind - just figured you’ll get people being strange about you showing off that you hang about with the little hybrid weirdo,” you shrugged. 

“Aw, furball. You don’t have to worry about people finding you weird. Your ears aren’t that big and strange you know,” Soap said, rubbing your arm in mock sympathy. “They might not even qualify as full sized satellites, maybe just small radio towers or- Hey!”

You smiled smugly to yourself after flicking Soap on the nose, but quickly dropped the grin when Soap yanked you back by the shoulders and blew a big gust of air into one of your ears.

“No! Disgusting!” You squealed, wrestling him off and slapping him away while he laughed.  

You rubbed at your ear, screwing up your entire face while you tried to work the feeling of Soap’s breath out of your fur and inner canal. The uncomfortable pressure ceased after a few seconds and finally you were able to stop cringing away from Soap enough to see Gaz shaking his head at you both. 

“Aaand its posted. C’mon, we better start clearing out of here. You can fix that mess with the Pipes, Soap.”

“Fuck sake,” Soap cursed, looking around at his mess. “Thought this was gonna be worth it as well.”

His grumbling didn’t stop as he got through his work either. As he put the sink back together you sat on top of the desk by Gaz while he sat on the chair and scrolled through his phone. You didn’t really have anything to do, so you twisted the manual round that you’d been teaching the guys from and started flicking through the old yellowing pages. The corners felt like they might melt away from even just fingering through them, it was so ancient, but that wasn’t the only sign that the book wasn’t from your lifetime. After skipping to a random page, your eyes widened into saucers and your mouth almost dropped to the cold concrete below. 

“What the fuck,” you breathed out loud, reading over the page contents with a dry mouth.  

Gaz’s interest peaked at that. Out of the corner of your peripherals you saw his eyes drift from his phone to look over the page you’d pulled.

“Yo! What the hell is that about,” Gaz cackled, pulling his chair up and scraping it over the concrete to get a closer look. “Proper Maintenance of your Hybrid’s Hygiene? That’s nasty.”

Soap looked over from his work and frowned.

“What’s so nasty about that?” 

“Nah, I can’t tell you. You gotta come over here and see this, mate.”

You frowned down at the book, casting your eyes over the frankly awful illustrations therein with a sickening mix of horror and gratitude for not having to have experienced anything depicted in them for yourself. Below the section title, In the two little boxes with smaller boxes off shooting from them were mirror images of a man standing over a bathtub with a hybrid in it, however in one box there was a female hybrid and the other a male. In the smaller boxes were close up pictures of the illustrated hybrids' tails, ears and genitals with captions that explained the proper way to keep them clean and healthy. 

“As you will well know, being experienced handlers in training,” Gaz read aloud, using a posh old timey voice, “Hybrids do not have the mental capacity that humans possess. As such, they are simply not capable of keeping themselves adequately clean, which means this is a care requirement you must oversee yourself at least once a week. Following the diagrams above you must draw a bath for your hybrid and have them clean their bodies under your guidance and ensure their tails, ears and extremities are maintained to regulation. You must make sure to prevent water flooding their ear canals, as this can cause infection, you must clean and detangle/deshed their tails using a long tooth or a short tooth brush depending on their fur texture, and you must ensure their genitals/nethers are kept cleaned of any discharge, excrement, c-crust build up or- fuckin hell I can’t. This is actual slander. How did they get away with writing this?”

“This is some absolute specist nonsense,” you scoffed, taking the manual from Gaz, who was slowly losing it to soundless laughter, and turning it so that it faced you.

“So in this section it’s basically hammering it into you that I’m apparently too dumb to wash my own shit covered ass, and then in thiiiis page…” you trailed, flicking back a few pages to a title that had almost caught your interest before, “yeah here. In this section it details ‘training techniques and guides for making your hybrid competent in use of blades and blunt weapons.’ So essentially I have to be watched to make sure I get my fuckin ‘crust’ or whatever cleaned off because I’m an incompetent beast, but I can also be reasonably expected to wield a fucking machete! What kind of bullshit is this?!”

Soap and Gaz were dead silent for a few seconds, lips sealed firmly shut and eyes wide as you waved the page around that had the giant sword diagram. That is, until the moment they both looked at each other. After that they burst out into floods of laughter, clutching their chests and howling like animals themselves until tears started falling down their cheeks. 

“It’s not funny!” you growled, taking another look through the ‘guide’ for anymore terrible tidbits. 

“It’s not, it’s really not,” Gaz affirmed, trying to hold in his giggles. “It’s really fucked up, but c’mon, mate. Crust!”

“They didn’t even have to go into that crust shite, but the fact they went on and actually specified the parts in the diagram that had to be cleaned and all that,” Soap wheezed, “I don’t know who the experience is worse for! Where did Ghost even pull this crap from? Did he time travel back to 1945?”

You groaned and turned to the front page, ears drooping back when you found the publishing date. 

“Man, this is from the fucking seventies,” you frowned, realising what torments could’ve befallen you had you been born just a bit earlier. “Wait…you guys don’t think this is Ghost’s personal copy…”

You cut yourself off. All of you were silent.

“Well its possible they could’ve just issued Ghost with an old copy rather than print new ones,” Gaz shrugged, voice weak from laughing so much already. “You know what budgeting’s like.”

“Hold the bus, I’m gonna google something,” Soap announced, pulling his own phone out his trousers and quietly muttering to himself. “Hybrid hygiene, British army regulations…here we go…from the 1960’s hybrids were able to voluntarily join the army or be transferred in from institutes for displaced hybrids and… hygiene was taught in handler training courses and monitored by…then up until 20- steamin’ jesus.” 

“What?” you and Gaz sounded off in unison.

“Essentially says here that the practice of teaching hybrid hygiene and monitoring it didn’t completely end in all British bases until well after Ghost joined up which means…-”

“Ghost is probably a certified crust inspector,” you said gravely. 

At that you all burst out laughing. The room practically shook, none of you could contain yourselves, the sounds ricocheted off the walls and exploded in your ears. Though you couldn’t muster the wherewithal to care. For a few moments you all laughed in a joint heap until slowly you all came back to yourselves and closed the manual, doing all you could to stop yourself from launching it out the skylight above. 

“That’s fuckin awful stuff,” Soap said, finally getting back to finishing up with the sink. “Glad I never signed up for any o’ that pish. I’ll gladly take apart a bomb before I have to supervise you in the tub, furball.” 

“Me too,” Gaz sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Least you’ll never have to get bathed and de-crusted. Almost puts a silver lining on Branhaven if you never had to deal with that, huh?”

“God, I never thought I’d say it, but thank you Maddox for being a neglectful dick,” you muttered, giggling after Gaz snorted from next to you. 

-🐺- 

Later on that day, after Soap and Gaz had dropped you off with Price, the full schedule that you’d been handed weighed heavily on you. You drooped over Price’s sofa and were barely able to read more than a few pages of your new book until you gave up and slumped fully into the cushions. 

You happily dozed off with the sound of Price’s accompanying pen scratches and mutterings, your lips curving into a soft smile against the saggy old cushions. Cigar smoke and musk cradled your prone form and with just the gentlest hint of spiced citrus, you were letting it carry you off to sleep. 

However, before unconsciousness could fully take you, a loud unfamiliar knock sounded at Price’s door and shattered you from any notion of rest. Your heart beat rapidly, chest thumping heavily and you sat up fully and at attention.

You looked over at Price, watching as he put down his pen and shuffled his papers. He made a brief second of eye contact and shrugged as if to tell you that he didn’t know who it was until he looked back toward the darkened door. He’d yet to turn his main light on, instead he sat commanding the room from his lamplit desk. 

“Yes. Who is it?” he barked, rubbing his weary eyes.

“Captain, it’s Major Kelly, I need to speak with you about an incident involving your team’s hybrid. Can I come in?” Called a lilting Irish voice.

Your ears perked up and again you looked at Price, but he didn’t look back at you this time. He set his jaw in a tight line and folded his hands up across the top of his desk, thumping them heavily into the wood. 

“Door’s open, Major,” he called, voice booming in a way you hadn’t heard it before. “Let’s hear it.”

[floylia]

THE FINE LINE BETWEEN GREED AND LOVE

— Kaeya x gn!reader

WARNINGS — Angst with a happy ending, blood, childhood trauma, self loathing, HAPPY ENDING TRUST

SYNOPSIS — When fear turns into confessions of love.

NOTE: I did a thing

Kaeya’s affection does not extend to you.

At least that’s what he convinces himself of.

For the years he’s known you, not once did he let his heart win. He let you delude yourself into thinking his affection was hatred. That his friendship came at a price. That he didn’t care one bit, because too much attachment meant losing himself. So he compromised—to put you at arm's length. To be near you but not have you, because people are not coveted the same way objects are. He wanted to have you, but he did not need you.

He knows the difference.

At least that’s what he thought.

The glint of his weapon scalds with the bandits’ flesh, piercing through skin and bones in the heat of the moment. Kaeya takes pleasure in the fear of his enemy’s eyes, but he makes this battle quick. He finds no time for amusement.

He scans the area, heartbeat pacing, breath quickening, before he spots you, leaning on a tree, a hand on your stomach with blood dripping from your temples. He bolts to you, sword forgotten before tearing a piece of cloth from his cape to stop the flow of blood. You barely see him, only feeling the weight of your body shift between dreams and reality.

“Stay with me. Don’t you close your eyes,” He calls out to you, voice breaking but you don’t hear. Your ears filled with statics alternating with nothing. The world is spiraling. It must be playing tricks on you, because you see Kaeya, eyebrows knit together, lips shaking, eyes glossy.

“Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry.” You whisper and his tears follow.

It’s a foreign sight.

Not a captain revered by all. Not the city’s number one candidate as “grandson-in-law.” Not Klee’s favorite grown-up. Not a scheming bastard who gets a kick off of ordering you around despite your similar rankings in the Knights of Favonius.

But someone who cared.

Someone who feared.

Someone you may never see again as the world darkens.

—

Kaeya Alberich does not pray.

But he knows how to plead, put his hands together, and kneel on the floor of the cathedral despite his conflicting faith towards the divine. The word “please” has never tasted so bitter on his tongue. Fear courses through his adrenaline, piling on top of him like a blanket of snow, leaving him shivering like a coward–because that is what he is.

A coward who dares feel regret.

Two days. 48 grueling hours. 2,880 demanding minutes.

He has been waiting, dreading, and dreaming. When will they hear his pleas? He sounds like a madman.

“I told you to not cry. Why are you crying?”

He doesn’t realize the tears staining his face, but perks up at the familiar voice, your voice, who’s currently sitting next to him.

“You—“ He starts, eyes bulging, swerving from left to right, mouth wide, desperate to find the right words. He raises his arm, hands reaching out to your face—it’s shaking, he can’t control it—until he freezes. Doubt creeping in his mind.

Are you real or has he lost it?

You latch on to his hand, “Does the cavalry captain wished I died or—“

He pulls you in a hug. His head leaning on your shoulder, tears streaming down your hospice clothes.

“My clothes are going to be drenched in snot if you don’t stop being a crybaby.”

“I thought I lost you,” He takes a breath between sniff, his head still resting beside your neck, “I thought I’d lose you knowing I never had the chance of loving you.”

He said it. A sentiment that has echoed from the moment he felt your presence.

“You love me?” There’s hesitation with the way you asked your question. Kaeya is not ready for the rejection that should follow. But he’s come to terms with it. Mulling it over, until he’s accepted that loving does not mean having.

He shouldn’t be greedy. You’re alive, breathing and recovering. That itself is a gift.

“Kaeya, do you love me?” You ask again, this time with determination.

He tried nodding while buried in between your neck. He doesn’t have the courage to look up and face you—whatever expression you’re wearing to his confession—he doesn’t want to see it.

But you force him.

You look deep in his eyes. He’s afraid you’ll see his soul—see the uncertainty, fear, and pain he’s been bearing despite the flashy exterior he presents himself with.

If you do, he wishes you would accept that. All the broken parts that follow. Just like how his adopted father did all those years ago. Just like how Diluc did when they were children. Just like how Klee lets him become a good brother. Just like how Jean trusts him.

He can’t be too greedy.

But isn’t living a “peaceful” life in Mondstadt despite his heritage, already greedy?

Fuck it.

“I love you,” It’s a whisper. He’s not sure if he said it out loud. Scared that he’ll shatter something sacred.

I love you so much that I’m scared. He wants to say, but he’s a coward. Again and again, he proves himself a coward.

“I love you too. Despite my doubts, I was afraid that i’ll never wake up and see your annoying, smug face.”

He swears he’s dreaming.

“I’m sorry, I’m a coward. I’m afraid that wanting you is greedy—“

You press a finger on his mouth, “That makes the both of us. But don’t think for a moment that you’re weak. You’re more than capable. Desiring something is not synonymous to a weakness. It makes you human. Everyone is greedy.”

Desiring something is not synonymous to a weakness. It makes you human. Everyone is greedy.

He smiles. Perhaps you’re right. He wants to believe your words. So he chooses to trust you. He needs to trust you. To hold onto something true, until his chains are broken and the weight of his lies are weighless

“Thank you,” He smiles for the first time in a while before he presses his lips on yours, “I must be the greediest man you’ll ever meet.”

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend pt 2 w/ jeong yunho

part 1

so i forgot to pause my queue and you’re getting this a day early… whoops

yunho looks so massive towering above you like that

there’s an unfamiliar look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips parted, nostrils flared, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful gaze

maybe he’s angry, but you can’t think of anything you’d done to upset him

hell, you’d fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he told you to! its like you could’ve—

oh fuck… the dream

you sit up as quick as humanly possible, any semblance of sleepiness slipping away as you realise exactly why he’s looking at you like that

like you’ve just committed the greatest crime known to man

you can’t look at him, embarrassment and guilt flowing through you like blood

“yun, i—” he cuts you off with a shush

it confuses you for just a second or two; surely he’d give you the chance to explain your self right?

it’s hardly like you deserve to have that chance, perverted little slut

but still, yunho is a nice enough guy; he’ll let you try and wriggle your way out of it… won’t he?

“yunho, i can ex—” again, you’re cut off with a sharp shush

you whimper in response as the tears that begin to gather along your lash line turn his silhouette blurry

“i don’t need an explanation from you,” he speaks softly, “i don’t want one, either. i don’t think it would change anything, do you?”

his face is still set in stone, eyes steely as they stare you down

it only makes you feel even more pathetic, like a child being scolded for making a mess

you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how he saw you; nothing more than his friends kid sister making a mess of things again

you’re always making a mess of things…

your eyes begin to burn with tears

“why are you getting upset, sweetheart?” yunho asks from above you, voice stern and commanding and nothing like the teasing tone he usually uses with you

“it’s embarrassing,” you sniffle, trying your hardest to stop your voice from wavering under the influence of your tears, “i’m sorry.”

he hums, nodding slightly as though he’s seriously mulling over your apology

as if he’s actually considering accepting it…

its cruel, making you wait for your judgement as if he’s not going to end up kicking you out at the end of it all

maybe you were wrong about him being a kind man…

“why is it embarrassing?” he hums, and your heart sinks just a little further

great; he’s going to humiliate you before kicking you out

your eyes meet his, begging for just a little mercy

he doesn’t seem to waver, eyes still icy and face still wearing that unreadable expression

“yunho,” you whisper, mentally preparing yourself to beg for forgiveness

he shakes his head, a hum of disapproval leaving his lips, “tell me, honey; why are you embarrassed?”

and just like that the dam breaks, your chin wobbling as a long keen leaves the back of your throat

the first tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly followed by a second

yunho catches them with his thumbs

“tell me…”

you suck in a shaky breath, forcing it out through your pursed lips

it doesn’t really help to soothe you like you thought it would…

“i had a wet dream about you,” your voice is so timid and small… you’re pathetic

“yes, you did,” yunho agrees, “but i hardly think that’s a good reason for all this fuss, hm?”

you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice

it almost sounds affectionate under that thick layer of condescension that only ever comes out when he’s talking to you

“after all, you didn’t see me crying when i was thinking all those dirty thoughts about you crawling into my bed…”

what?

your jaw hangs slack as you let his words soak in

he has to be teasing you, right?

“your pretty pussy was showing through your shorts, baby, but you didn’t even realise, hm?”

he takes your chin in his hand, forcefully snapping your mouth shut

“you were clenching around nothing,” his pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip, “practically begging for me to fill you up and you didn’t even realise.”

you squirm, everything he does working against you and your barely intact sanity

his words that he says so nonchalantly as if you’re not utterly filthy

his hand that remains firmly on your chin, his thumb dancing back and forth along your jawline

that damned tongue that he can’t seem to keep inside of his mouth for more than a second

you can’t help it when you whimper; after all, he’s the only one to blame

“yuyu,” you sound as pathetic as you feel, but you don’t have the brain power to feel humiliated, “please do something…”

he smiles down at you

“do something?” he asks, “like what, honey? you’re going to have to be more specific if you want yuyu to do what you want.”

the sound of him teasing you so effortlessly goes straight to your cunt, and you clench your thighs around nothing

it doesn’t help ease the ache between them at all

in fact all it does is smear your wetness over your thighs, leaving you with a sticky, uncomfortable mess

you desperately need something more; some friction to ease that ache in your clit and something inside of you to fill up your empty hole

and there’s yunho, your brothers best friend, standing above you looking like a fucking god

that’s all you need to push you over the edge

“yunho, please fuck me,” you whine, bringing a hand up to rest upon his wrist

your fingers wrap around it, tugging softly until his grip slips from your jaw

you drag it down, heading lower and lower until his hand catches on the duvet that still rests over your lower half

and then you stop, passing the proverbial ball to him; it’s in his court now and whatever happens next is up to him

whether he fucks you or not… it’s his choice

but you have no time to worry about what might not come to pass when he grabs the covers and tosses them to the side

his eyes hone in on those fucking shorts, and he swears he can feel his cock jump in his shorts

fucking hell, they’re practically see through with just how wet you are

he can see everything and what a delight that is

your pretty little pussy, wet and waiting for him to ruin it with his fingers, his cock, him cum

he needs so badly to see the real thing

“these damn shorts, baby,” he groans as he hooks his fingers over the waist band and tugs, “i might just have to keep them, if that’s okay with you?”

his words make your pussy clench, a sight that has him humming in appreciation

“i take that as a yes?” he tugs them down over your thighs, wasting no time in stripping your bottom half bare and tucking your shorts in the pocket of his pants.

with your glistening hole now exposed to him, he wastes no time in getting on his knees at the bottom of the bed

at first he just watches it, studying it as intensely as a college student studies their textbook the night before a final

you’re about to say something, to beg some more, when he reaches out a hand and slides a finger through your sopping folds

you gasp as he brushes it gently against you clit before pulling it away entirely, slipping it between his lips without so much as a second of hesitation

his eyes flutter closed and his cheeks hollow

the moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic; you find yourself in awe of the show he’s putting on for you

“taste so good, honey,” he purrs as he tugs his finger free, “i’d eat you up forever, if you let me…”

he pauses, letting his eyes flicker up to meet yours

“will you let me?”

you nod, too dazed to say anything

“good girl…”

he wastes no time in laying down and throwing your legs over his shoulders

his giant hands find your thighs, gently caressing your smooth skin under the calloused tips of his fingers

they squeeze, kneading your flesh as he lowers his face to your aching core

“ready?” he hums, the word propelling a cool blast of air against your clit

you squirm and nod, but he shakes his head

“i really need your words this time, baby,” he says, “i’ve been lenient so far but i won’t do anything without your explicit permission; are you ready?”

“y-yes, yun…”

and just like that, he presses a soft kiss to your clit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing it before he pulls away

it draws a whine through your gritted teeth

yunho chuckles before going back in to lick a stripe over your dripping hole

an obscene slurping sound echoing around the room as his tongue collects as much of your juices as he can before going back for more

he licks and prods are your hole, seeming to tease it until it leaks some more, all which his nose bumps gorgeously up against your clit

you hands fly to his hair, holding him against you in fear of him leaving you high and dry

he’s making you feel so good, the last thing you want is for this to stop

he just smiles against you as he feels the tug of your fingers in his locks, scraping his teeth against you in a way that has your body going limp

it’s even worse when he brushes them against your sensitive bud

you don’t quite register the sound your own mouth makes, too lost in the throws of pleasure to fully comprehend anything other than yunho

“so sweet, honey,” he grunts before he takes you clit between his lips

he suckles on it, hollowing his cheeks out as he pulses the pressure

he alternates between hard and soft sucks

it’s enough to make that knot in your stomach tighten

you’re getting close

“yuyu,” you cry as you let your hips buck into his mouth

it doesn’t phase him at all, so you carry on seeking your high

and when yunho sharpens his tongue to a point, letting you grind against the very top of it, that’s when you come undone

that’s when the knot snaps and your world turns white for just a second

fucking hell, yunho knows how to eat pussy…

he continues his ministrations for just a moment or two, letting you get it all out of your system before he pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand

“how was that, pretty girl?” he hums, “think you can take my cock next?”

[imaginarylungfish]

more 431 thoughts (based on leaks)

i've had more time to mull over 431 and here are some of my thoughts. they aren't as nicely laid out as my previous post on my thoughts on the end of mha (or what i thought was the end) but that's probably because, in all honesty, i was disappointed with 431. alright, here we go:

izuku

I was initially surprised when he decided he'd continue being a teacher and do hero work on the side. It made me think "why the hell did they put so much time and money into that suit of yours then?" but izuku being a teacher also makes a lot of sense given his background of getting ofa, being mentored by all might, and losing ofa. it makes sense that with his observational skills and battle strategy, he would want to help other young students be the best heroes they could be, just like his mentors helped him.

at the same time, i can't help but feel as if there is an unclear message in the end for izuku as a character. i wrote previously that ending with izuku as a quirkless hero would have been a great conclusion to izuku's character arc. having him recognize his inherent worth and heroism rather than something external to himself (like a quirk) would have been a great way to see izuku's growth.

but him ending up working full-time as a teacher (granted, with hero work on the side) also shows growth in that he has accepted what he's good at and found joy there. (how adult of him!) i just think having him also work as a hero on the side is a bit funny. i think there would have been a clearer message if he was either a teacher or a quirkless hero, not both. that's one of my biggest frustrations with 431.

now, onto him rejecting katsuki's offer to join his agency. i mean, this is directly tied into izuku sticking with teaching full time. if we continue with what 431 is implying, it's showing us that izuku is now accepting what he wants and not doing what others want of him (ie. not accepting katsuki's offer to appease katsuki). i think this chapter shows us how izuku has accepted that his high school dream of being a hero wasn't necessarily what his 20-something self wants anymore. he's moving past those old dreams onto something else. and i think that's what disappoints me. mha is fiction, a reprieve from reality for me. and while mha tackled some heavy topics (bullying, child abuse, moral ambiguity, etc.), i expected the ending to be more in line with the upbeat nature the manga first started out with.

i was also surprised that katsuki and izuku's character arcs ended so separately. it seemed like prior to 430, the pair was on track to work together in the future as heroes. i think you can now interpret katsuki's actions in 430 as just mere atonement based on how he acts in 431. but i previously interpreted 430!katsuki as connecting with izuku in a deeper way by giving izuku access to his dream with the suit and calling izuku "deku" to reinforce izuku's innate heroism.

idk, my biggest gripe with izuku's ending now is that there seemed to be bigger and more important themes involving izuku's character (ie. realizing you can be a hero without a quirk) that were never fully fleshed out. now, the only real character growth we see is all confined to 431: izuku is now deciding to put himself first (in going after ochaco).

canon izu/ocha was disappointing to me because of the lack of development throughout the manga. i understand i can view izu/ocha happening now (8 years later) as izuku never taking the time to understand his feelings because he never put himself first until katsuki pointed it out to him in the car in 431, but it just seems really bleh to me. but whatever.

katsuki

i really hated 431 for katsuki. it left a bad taste in my mouth. it seemed like katsuki was just sad and listless.

if i interpret 431 as it is meant to be (or i, at least, think it is meant to be), then it seems like katsuki is realizing/has realized his place in izuku's life (as an acquaintance rather than a close friend). someone on twitter said that izuku rejecting katsuki's offer to join his agency signaled the end of katsuki's atonement. therefore, katsuki is now "free" of the guilt he had for bullying izuku as a kid. and so, when they go separate ways at the end, it is symbolizing that the pair finally are their own people and not toxically connected anymore.

i do think that's what 431 is showing. but i just don't like it lol. i wish it ended on a happier note, like 430. 431 just seems to water down all of katsuki's character growth at the end of the manga. like i said in previous posts, katsuki's whole arc was that he was jealous of izuku's innate heroism so he bullied him, only to realize that katsuki was actually trying to catch up to izuku and not the other way around. i wish 431 showed the result of izuku and katsuki coming together (i don't mean romantically, bakudeku was never going to be canon--just platonically) having healed their respective traumas/insecurities in a hero partnership. that's what i thought 430 was alluding to.

plus, it almost feels as if katsuki's character development went backwards in 431. sure, he's less angry and is actually helping izuku out (with pointing out how izuku treats everyone special, implying he should put himself first and go after ochaco since that is apparently what izuku wants now but can't see it). but katsuki was already on his way with those things in the last few chapters before 430. shouldn't he be even more emotionally developed after 8 years? it was disappointing to see him 15th on the rankings due to his attitude. it just made katsuki seem one-dimensional, as if he was the Angry Character played for laughs.

shoto

i was already satisfied with shoto's ending in 430. 431 only added to my satisfaction. it shows us that shoto is continuing to heal from his trauma and deciding to live life for himself (by going to make bowls and chopsticks in ishikawa). his whole thing was that he was born out of endeavor's selfish desire to surpass all might, so i really loved shoto saying that being a hero is not all that he is. he's shedding more of his father's dreams in favor of his own.

i think it was really beautiful to see that shoto became #2 hero from being a good person. it shows such a contrast between him and endeavor as #2. shoto be healing that generational trauma and we love to see it!

also, he smiled so much this chapter. it was amazing to see! he deserves all the happiness!!

ochaco

i never wrote about ochaco in my last post because she felt flat to me the last few chapters. i didn't feel like there was much content to go off of for her. so i liked how in 431, we see her processing more of what happened for her during the war, specifically her fight with toga, as 429 definitely wasn't enough. (this also makes me a little more upset at the fact we didn't izuku processing any trauma from the war (dude essentially killed shigaraki) but whatever.)

but, then i really don't like how her character is just there to be izuku's love interest in the end. ochaco was so much more than that! from what was going on in the war/the last few chapters, she seemed to be becoming much more her own person vs relying on deku to inform her as a hero like she did at the beginning of the manga.

and this is not to say getting together with someone is total annihilation of yourself as your own person, because we can also argue that ochaco took 8 years to herself to grow as a person before getting together with izuku. but the izu/ocha confession just seemed weak (because of my points above regarding izuku).

i think if there was more development, izu/ocha could have been really good! i liked how in 431 we figuratively see her being pushed by toga to live her life for herself. but the execution was just a bit weird for me. toga was like too involved in the confession but oh well. (if hori knew about togachao then that was just a sick joke lol.)

i understand the shonen formula that the male protag will eventually get together with the first female he blushes at but oi i hate that formula (not only because it's heteronormative but also because it's a bit misogynistic)! i really wish there was more consistent development of izu/ocha's relationship throughout the manga. we see such little investment from izuku (and i get that that reinforces the idea that izuku has always treated everyone as special but a little more internal monologue from izuku's perspective on his feelings for ochaco wouldn't have hurt).

the lack of izuku's interest in ochaco in the manga is partially why i ship bakudeku. izuku just doesn't show much consistent interest in anyone because he is nice to everyone. so, in my opinion, since izuku most consistently showed interest in katsuki, bakudeku made a bit more sense to me than izu/ocha. that doesn't mean i thought bakudeku would be canon (this is queer ship and shonen jump, y'all). it just means izu/ocha felt out of place for me personally.

overall, there were aspects of 431 i liked (seeing aged-up class 1a together again, insight into ochaco's headspace since the war/fight with toga, additions to shoto's character arc) but much that i didn't (katsuki's stagnation as a character, the lack of development in katsuki and izuku's friendship, izuku's weak narrative end, izu/ocha canon after no real development throughout the manga).

i feel like 431 watered down some strong themes mha had going for it, even if they were already a bit weaker after 430. but there were still some really good aspects of 431 (ie. shoto's whole arc) that tied the narrative together nicely.

if we're talking about ships, i was happy with none confirmed in 430. i liked the idea that ochaco had a crush, accepted it, and grew from it/out of it by putting herself first. some may argue that would have been a sad ending just as i see katsuki's lack of integration in izuku's life as sad. but different opinions!

i wanted an open-ended conclusion with ships but whatever! it's just a manga after all! i think us bakudekus have some great canon fodder for fics with 431 (heavy angst ofc lol)

[akutasoda]

Hello hello!!! Congrats in reaching 1k followers!!!! I've always enjoyed your writing so I'm not surprised you'd get 1k!

For the event could I request Jing Yuan and Dan Heng catching an anxious!reader singing for the first time? Maybe they catch reader softly serenading both of them while assuming the two were asleep. (Jing Yuan x reader x Dan Heng)

thank you :)

🍵 nonnie

silent melodies

synopsis - you start seranding them at a long awaited reunion, unaware they hear you

includes - dan heng + jing yuan

warnings - gn!reader, reader is a long life species?, angst, bittersweet angst, comfort/fluff, wc - 825

a/n: thank you!! <3

dan heng would only have one reason to step foot back on the luofu, to brave what awaited him and that would be to see you again - jing yuan would be there too but mainly you. so when the express took to the luofu he really did want to join them but he knew a much harsher fate awaited him if he ever saw him again, but all he could think about in his stay on the express was you. even if he wasn't the one you fell in love with.

it was a compromise really. during the life of imbibitor lunae, he had become absolutely head over heels for you, the long life species that he wanted by his side until it was his time to be reborn. however he had a slight competition with his fellow quintet member who was also vying for your attention. it seemed more than reasonable for him and jing yuan to come to some sort of agreement, even just letting you choose your lover, but they were both too smitten to even fathom the idea of willingly giving you up.

ultimately, they planned to do the reasonable option and leave the decision to you and you alone but you were a bit indecisive and asled for some time to mull it over. eventually you informed them that you simply couldn't pick and that's when jing yuan announced that he wouldn't mind sharing you with imbibitor lunae if you didn't mind yourself - after all it was your decision at the end of the day. you did feel quite 'put on the spot' and you're nerves were starting to kick in but you agreed.

it seemed that was the right decision. it had merely been a week of your relationship with the two of them before it all delved into chaos and heartbreak. imbibitor lunae made a stupid decision in the grief of his friend and willingly would accept the consequences, he just wanted to see you one last time. you never visited him in the shackling prison, he understood and came to terms with it - even when he was forcefully reborn he didn't expect you to visit him and his only solace came from jing yuan who would inform him of how you were doing.

you had stayed with jing yuan ever since and now the express was docked at the luofu, dan heng couldn't help bit indulge himself and see the two of you. he wasn't imbibitor lunae. he wasn't your lover nor a friend but he hoped that you'd allow him a moment of peace, a moment to see how you were fairing after all these years. it was no surprise that he found you in a more isolated spot on the luofu - especially since he could faintly remember a place like this in his dreams. and there he could find you with jing yuan.

it was a bittersweet reunion, if it could even be called that. jing yuan showed some friendly intentions but he knew who it wasn't, and would soon return to his place were his head rested on your shoulder so he could rest once again. you didn't care that it wasn't imbibitor lunae, you knew this would be the closest chance you had to seeing him and this opportunity wouldn't escape. dan heng was rather pleased to know you hadn't changed much and he could practically feel a weight lifting from his chest just by being in your presence, he could also feel the lack of sleep overcome him.

soon enough you had your lover and your other lover's reincarnation rested comfortably by your side. for a moment you could convince yourself that nothing had happened, nobody had gotten exiled and no relationships were destroyed. in this fleeting moment you could cast aside your hesitations to start humming a small tune, you always had the habit of doing so back in the day when you were absolutely certain they were both asleep - you weren't exactly confident with your skills. you could easily lose yourself in the moment and finally be able to really imagine that this was how it used to be.

that would be up until jing yuan woke from his brief slumber to you serenading the both of them. immediately, you stopped and tried hiding your face in embarrassment at being caught serenading them only for jing yuan to stop you. the small commotion managed to drag dan heng out of the first peaceful sleep he had in ages and he was immediately informed by jing yuan that you had been serenading them - your hands flew up to your face in pure embarrassment as jing yuan chucked softly beside you. dan heng melted slightly at the pure idea that you still harboured something to him even if it wasn't him. maybe just maybe he could drop the pretences and enjoy his time with you and jing yuan.

akutasoda's 1k event

[gorchards]

Love Lines - Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

word count: 4,118

a/n: Hi there! This is the first fic I've ever published so go easy on me lmao. Y/N is (very loosely) inspired by Rika because I love their dynamic and I'm a sucker for the childhood friends trope. I don't think the reader is specifically gendered but bc of this they may be fem-coded. Fic under the cut! Hope you all enjoy!

You and Yuta Okkotsu had a long, long, history. When you were in elementary school, you had proposed to him. Of course, you didn’t fully know what you were doing when you did- you were so young at the time. Then again, neither did he, when he wholeheartedly accepted. And for a long time, you two had been inseparable. During high school, the two of you had realized that perhaps there was something to that proposal you had originally made, and had begun dating. 

In some ways, it was better than what you could have ever dreamed. He was sweet, comforting, and always there for you. Just as he had always been, of course! But somehow even more than before. He was braver with you, and would come along on whatever random excursion you thought up. And he had changed you, too. His greater involvement in your life added a sparkle to it that you hadn’t experienced before. He made you feel stronger. He grounded you when you felt like you were going to fly off the  handle, and soothed you when you were spiraling. 

But… You were also more involved in his problems than ever before. The reverse was true of course. But he always had to take time to mull them over, and all that time he spent made you so anxious for him. You were so involved in his problems now, that it was starting to take a toll on your own mental health. You expressed this to him, and he tried his best to ease your fears- assuring you that things would all work out.

 That was a turbulent period of life for the both of you. So many things were changing in your individual lives. And during that change in your relationship with him, you began to realize there were a great deal of challenges that he had never let you in on before. It became overwhelming for you to see, and have him refuse your repeated attempts to help. He was so worried that you would eventually feel like he was a burden to you, but in doing so, he had unintentionally pushed you away. You couldn’t take it- and it made you feel that if he could have been hiding the fact that he was being bullied from you, what else was he hiding? Did you even know the real Yuta Okkotsu? Thoughts such as that plagued your mind toward the end... and it would eventually become too much for you.

Though it wasn’t that simple, that was ultimately the reason you had broken it off. Mounting pressures in your own life made it feel impossible to keep up with how much healing you realized he needed. Yuta had attempted to mend things- checking in with you often, trying to at least remain friends. He still cared about you, of course. He had assured you that he was still just a call away if you needed him. But even that became suffocating to you with time. In the end, you sent him a long, painful message about how you just couldn’t remain friends with him. And then, you blocked him. 

Since then, a mere four years after your breakup with Yuta, you had completely thrown yourself into your college work. Of course, along with spending any excess time you had with your family and your other friends. But it seemed to do little about the fact that he never really left your mind. At least once a day, a thought like this crossed your mind: “Oh, Yuta would love this!” Or, alternatively, “I wonder what he’s doing right now…?” You would still find yourself looking at the photos you had taken him, or of the two of you together. For a moment in time, you could pretend that nothing had changed between you and Yuta.

But then, cold hard reality would set in and crush your heart. You had not spoken in many years…and with how you left things, you might never again. Were you not used to the weight by now, perhaps you would have reached out. But apologizing now? After the state you left him in? You were sure that would make you cruel. 

Occasionally you would sit and imagine how he may have moved on from you. With how little he posted on social media, you weren’t sure exactly what he was up to, no matter how many times you refreshed his instagram. But even after all this time you still felt like you knew him inside and out. And so, you were completely certain that someone else must have been taken by his sincere smile, unkempt hair, and gentle eyes that you once admired daily. If looks weren’t enough, you couldn’t think of one person who wasn’t looking for a devoted and sweet boy like him. 

Maybe it was even that upperclassman who was in his class that you were often jealous of. They had grown very close over his senior year because being with you had made him more sociable. You could imagine Maki being the kind of girl who wouldn’t hesitate once she found out he was single. Unlike you, who had stalled for as long as possible in an effort to keep things from changing between you and him. And in the long run, you couldn’t seem to do that, either.

You yourself had tried to move on already. You had waited what you deemed a respectable amount of time before trying your luck with romance again. But in every person that you had dated, you never found Yuta. You would compare them all to him. You quickly found yourself growing dissatisfied and restless before ultimately breaking up with the string of suitors that followed him. So you had sworn it off for the time being, shifting almost all of your focus to your educational goals. You wanted to start working as soon as possible, and trying to find someone while agonizing over the Yuta-shaped hole in your heart was only going to slow you down.

One fateful day though, you strode into a local coffee shop near your campus. Nothing different than any other study sessions before. All signs pointed to it being a normal day, if a bit more productive than usual. That alone was enough to put a little spring in your step. You stood in line looking over the menu, puzzling over what you would get. A vanilla chai, perhaps? Or would a matcha latte be what you were craving… You hoped you would be able to decide before you reached the cash register.

The time to order came all too fast. “Good afternoon, what can I get for you?” The barista asked, slightly more terse than she usually was. You imagined the cause for this was due to the line of customers behind you that had slowly mounted since you had gotten in it. 

You were able to make a split-second compromise with yourself, out of courtesy for your noticeably antsy barista. “Good afternoon! Could I.. uh… Could I get a matcha latte, with a little vanilla?” You paused for a moment, feeling your stomach growl just a tad. “Oh! And one of your muffins, please!” Hopefully, this would satisfy you for a solid cramming session.

You gave the barista your name, sitting down near the counter patiently as you waited for your little snack to be called out. You began to scroll through your music, hoping to find a playlist that would get you in a focused mood. You were about to select one of your many playlists, when you heard your name being called. 

“Latte for Y/N?” You could just hear the barista’s voice over the mounting chatter. So, you jumped up from your seat and scurried over to pick up your little study session snack. You thanked the barista, and moved to return to your table when you heard your name again.

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice. And you knew it wasn’t the barista calling you back for your wallet. The whole world came to a standstill for you, as you tried to decide whether or not you should turn around. It’s like all of the many programs in your brain had suddenly crashed at the sound of Yuta Okkotsu’s voice.

“How?” was your first thought. How was it possible that you had ended up at the same restaurant, on the same day, at the same time? You hadn’t physically seen him in years. You hadn’t talked, or called, or texted since your last conversation. Just when you were getting good at forcing yourself to suppress your thoughts of him- why would the universe put him here, and why would it do so now?

Say you did turn around. What would that even do? Surely it would just bring up painful memories for the both of you. And you really didn’t want to make him cry again. You feared that if you turned around he would look exactly the same as the day you broke up with him. 

Maybe it wasn’t him. After all, your mind could be playing tricks on you. If you didn’t turn around to face this hypothetical Yuta, you would never have to truly face your feelings about him, either. And even if he was there, you could just pretend that you didn’t hear! Then he would just move on, and you still wouldn’t have to think too hard about how leaving him had affected both of your hearts.

You felt a hesitant hand tap your shoulder, resuming the activities going on around you. Ah. You had waited way too long thinking it over. And you felt it would be so mean of you to speed walk away now, after he had worked up all that courage to approach you. So, slowly, you turned yourself to face him.

There stood Yuta Okkotsu, a half-full cup of iced coffee in his off-hand. But he looked noticeably different than you last saw him. His hair was styled in an uncharacteristically stiff fashion; It was gelled down and parted slightly to his right. Starkly different from the wilder hair you remembered him having. He was a bit taller, too. His clothing leaned more toward “smart” casual, rather than the comfortable styles you recalled him wearing.  And his face looked…  mostly the same, aside from the bags beneath his eyes, which seemed smaller than you remembered.

“It’s… It’s you.” He spoke, a bit short of breath. Like he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him. He looked a bit tense, as he had feared the worst. 

If it wasn’t you, he would have embarrassed the hell out of himself. He would have gotten over it, but it would only prove how hopeless he was at getting over you. Imagining you in public like that might have made him hole himself up in his dorm until his friends inevitably dragged him out and convinced him he wasn’t clinically insane. 

Conversely, if it had been you, he feared that you would have a viscerally negative reaction to his presence- that over the years you had stopped caring about him, and even grown to hate him. He knew that was ridiculous- you were passionate and reactive, but you were always polite. Still, the fear gnawed at him, perhaps more at the notion that you had grown to loathe him rather than that you would rebuke him.

But there you stood. Eyes widened in shock, and surprisingly still. But he didn’t see any hate in your expression. Still, he braced his heart for disappointment when you opened your mouth.

“... Yu ... ta?” It came out as more of a question than you had intended. You felt like you were in a trance, but did your best to shake yourself out of it. “What… What are you doing here?’

He accidentally let out a chuckle in response, and then motioned his cup to his little set-up in the corner of the coffee shop. “Studying… for my, uh, finals. And getting coffee. What are you doing here?” 

You motioned over to your laptop bag that you had yet to open. “Same as you, actually! What a coincidence!” You said with a little laugh, and just a hint of awkwardness in your tone.

The both of you remained silent for a moment before he decided to break it. “... Would you like to sit with me? It’s getting crowded in here.”

Oh.

His breaking the silence had surprised you even more than you already were. He didn’t typically do that, even when you were together. He was comfortable with it with you- and besides, he much preferred to look into your eyes. Again you were stunned into silence. What would be the right thing to do here? 

You knew what you wanted to do. You wanted to sit down and have lunch with him. You wanted to talk endlessly about what you had missed in the last four years. You wanted to give him your new socials, your new number, your new address. You had dreamed for years that you would run into him again like this.

But on the other hand, you also wanted to do what was right.  What made sense. And it didn’t make any sense to let him back in your life after all this time. You weren’t sure you could handle it even if it did. There was just so much history, and so much baggage between the two of you. You didn’t want to mess anything up further- for him, or for yourself. That wouldn’t be right at all.

His voice cut through your thoughts. 

“... I’m sorry I… I can see you’re uncomfortable. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Shit. That’s not what you wanted. That little sad look in his eyes.

“What?” You replied. A reaction of pure panic. Pure desperation. 

He turned back to you, averting his gaze slightly. “... I shouldn’t have asked… I just thought…” He looked right at you. “I thought… It would be nice to have coffee.”

“... It would.” You said, trying to soften your tone. Just coffee, you told yourself. It didn’t necessarily mean anything to have coffee with an old friend.

If he weren’t listening so intently to every word, he might not have heard you over all the noise. Now, it was his turn to be stunned. “It would? You think?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours again.

“... Yeah, it would.”

~

And so you sat down at his table. Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself. The way you were sitting in your chair, the way your hands gripped your coffee cup, the sweat pooling from every gland you had… The sheer anxiety that built in you every moment that ticked by without a word.

“So uhm… Did you end up applying to TMTC?” He asked.

Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. Your dream school. He…remembered?

“I did but…Well, I didn’t…I’m going to TMU. But I do have a few friends there.” You said, staring into your latte. “Ah, their sister school! That’s even better!” He replied, smiling a tad awkwardly. “That makes sense. You’ve always been really smart.”

“And where do you go?” You asked. It felt weird to you that you didn’t already know.

“Ah… well… I went to a community college at first… And one of my professors also works at TMC so I…” He trailed off.

“... You’re going there?” You looked up at him, your brow raised. A clear suspicion was evident in your expression.

“...Not… Not because I thought you’d be there.” He said, swallowing nervously.

Your heart twinged a little.

He continued, being unable to make eye contact with you. “Not- Not that I didn’t think you would! And not that I- I just… I would have been a fool to give up a chance like that. And our majors were far enough apart that if… If I did run into you… And you didn’t want to see me… Then you wouldn’t have to. Not that I didn’t want to see you I just-”

You laughed a little, causing him to stop his rambling. He didn’t act any differently than the boy you remembered. And even after all this time, you knew him like the back of your hand. He was still your Yuta.

“...Something funny?” He asked, throat still painfully dry. He took a sip of his drink.

You shook your head. “No… Nothing. I see why you did it. I’m just a tad jealous is all.”

“Do you… Like it at TMU?” Swiftly, he tried to change the subject.

You looked back up at him. “I do.”

The truth was, you felt a little lonely there. You had your friends, and you adored them. You got really lucky, and hadn’t yet had a mean professor. Your dorm was always cozy. The campus was beautiful. It would have been perfect if… He was there. 

Yuta. He was once your best friend, your companion…he was your home. Not a day could go by without you thinking of him. Something about his absence made days feel more monotonous. You felt like when you sat down here with him, you had been snapped out of a trance that you hadn’t been able to get out of for four long years. 

Yuta blinked when you failed to say more, and tried to coax something more out of you. “What do you like about it?”

“I see you’ve gotten nosier than ever, Yuu.” You teased.

Yuta’s face paled. “I’m sorry! That’s not what I-”

“Relax. I’m joking.” You had to laugh again. He was always so reactive to your teasing. Always took everything so seriously. That still hadn’t changed.  “Tokyo is gorgeous. I mean- I’m sure you can tell. You’re here too after all. But especially the campus! I don’t always have time to enjoy it with all the work my professors give me but…I really like going there. When I have time to go out with my friends we always have a ton of things to pick from. Makes it pretty hard to choose just one!”

Yuta smiled softly, leaning on the table as he listened to you earnestly.

You missed that fond expression of his.

“What is it, Yuta?”

“Huh…?” He froze, before sitting up and straightening himself out. “Oh- I just…Well you sound- IT sounds so pretty over there. I haven’t had the chance to go yet. I think I have a friend who goes there…” He said, tapping his chin.

“Who? Maybe I know them!” You said, leaning forward on the table.

“Her name’s Mai. Or- I think we’re friends. She’s Maki’s sister actually, you remember her? She sometimes joins our study group when we go to their house.”

Your eyes widened. “Mai Zenin?”

“Oh, yes! Do you know her?”

Knew wouldn’t be quite the correct word. You weren’t close at all, but you had worked on a few projects together. She was rather tight lipped about her personal life, and wasn’t much for conversation. But she was smart, and always did her part.

Despite the last name, you hadn’t connected the dots.

“Oh, not really. Our majors are close, so we have a few classes together.” You said quietly, looking into your cup.

Yuta did not fail to notice your change in demeanor.

“... Was she… rude to you?” He asked.

You looked back up at him. “Oh, nothing like that! I just… I had no idea.”

To think. You were two connections away from seeing him again almost this entire time. 

You weren’t sure how that made you feel.

“I didn’t either.” He chuckled. “I know she can be a bit…well, I’m sure you know.”

You found yourself smiling again. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But we always get a good grade when we work…. together, separately. She’s just…”

“A little intense?”

“Ohhhh yeah. You could say that again.” You said with a snicker. “Runs in the family I guess.”

Talking like this again… you found yourself so happy. This joy was something that you were only able to capture when you were with him. You felt a little nostalgic for your life before- Your life with him. It almost made you want to turn back the hands of time, or at the very least, let him back in again.

But that would clearly be selfish. Even from what little you had discussed, you could tell. Something was different. He had friends- plural. Likely new ones… maybe even a girlfriend.

He was happy.

Happy without you.

Not that you weren’t happy on your own, per se. But without him, the monotony of life had become so heavy. You felt as though everything was about your classes, your degree, your future job. Every moment you had, you spent working toward some distant future plan.

Yuta had always slowed you down and kept you in the moment. He put a colorful tint on your life when he was in it. 

In high school he was shy and awkward around other people…everyone except you, that was. You couldn’t help but wonder how that might have changed in three years. Maybe he…

“Y/N?” Again, he snapped you from your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“...You’re doing that thing you do.” 

That thing you always did when you thought too much. That far-off look you got when he couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t bear to let you go there again.

He couldn’t bear to let you go at all.

You shook your head, but you knew exactly what he meant. “Just… just thinking is all, Yuta.”

“... Well, I have an ear if you need to talk it out.” He replied softly. His hand twitched slightly, out of instinct. He wanted to take your hand and squeeze it, but… He realized how awkward that could make you feel.

He still… he still cared? Really, and sincerely? After all this time?

You shook your head. It wouldn’t be right.

“That’s sweet Yuta, but… but I should be going. I really have to study.” You abruptly stood up and started gathering your things.

“What?” He stood up, eyes widened in a panic that he was trying to hide. “But we hardly-”

“My finals are soon, and I’m sure yours are too.”

“Y/N-.”

“Yuta I… I enjoyed this little chat with you but… Well I’m happy you’re doing well and I hope that you do well in your studies but I have to-”

“Y/N.” He grabbed ahold of your hand, and you froze. 

 Yuta took a deep breath. “...Sorry, I just…Y/N, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. If you never want to see me again I’d…I’d understand. And…” 

He had to take another deep breath, and you could see tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “But you… you mean so much to me. After all this time you… I still miss you. So much. You’re..”

The love of his life?

“...My best friend. Maybe that’s… weird of me to say. But it’s true. Even though we didn’t have that much time together today I… I’m really happy to hear from you. And I want to see you again.” He looked right into your eyes.

Into your soul.

You could see how desperate he looked right now. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You knew that if you were still together, he would have immediately taken you in his arms and kissed them away. But when you looked at him you saw how much he was holding back in order to avoid driving you away again.

It was then that you realized just how much you had been holding back yourself. Everything you had been feeling, and trying to hold deep inside with all the willpower you had left was about to burst out. You missed him so much.

“Yuu…ta…”

You swallowed harshly, stepping back. Yuta hung his head as you began to put your things into your bag.

Then, he felt you tap his shoulder. He attempted to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes before he locked eyes with you again.

You took his hand and placed a scrap of paper in it. 

“What’s this…?” He asked.

“...My new number. I…I would like to see you again too.” You whispered.

“You…you couldn’t have told me that first?” He chuckled, drying his face with a little smile.

You felt your lips curl up. “Sorry. I know you hate surprises.” You squeezed his hand, before letting it go.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it looked…for a moment I thought-”

“I’m one hundred percent sure.” Well, now you were. “I’ll see you soon Yuta.”

“I’ll see you soon Y/N."

✧ Start (You are here!) ✧ Next ✧

✧ Masterlist ✧

[kowaiitenshii]

[Sunkiller Lullaby Part Two]

Pairing: Darth Vader X Reader

Plot Summary: Accepting your role as Lord Vader’s personal attendant, you take the first steps in learning your new duties, and proving your loyalty to your new master. 

Warnings: Canon-level violence. Mentions of death/murder. Descriptions of fear. Corruption. Canon-divergent. Unburnt!Vader. Reader is a former slave. Improper use of the force. Vader is his own warning. Descriptions of mistreatment. AFAB reader, feminine pronouns and descriptions used. 18+ content to come in later chapters.

Words: 4.2k

A/N: First off, thank you so much everyone for all the love on part one! I truly did not think so many people would enjoy it! I appreciate everyone who reblogged and liked, and I cannot wait to continue sharing this story with you. If people continue to enjoy my writing, I will most likely open up for requests/prompts!

Part One HERE

Part II:

To your dismay, you awaken to bright beams of starlight peeking through the sheer inner curtains of your suite. 

You blink in confusion as you mull over the contents of the past night’s dream, and lament the fact that it was only that; a dream. 

Sighing deeply in disappointment, you slowly rise from bed and dress yourself for the day, deciding on a deep ruby red set of robes. They’re thick and soft as you slide them on, and you decide that red really compliments you. 

You are again presented with a decadent breakfast, this time dining on exotic ripened fruits, cured strips of thinly sliced meat, and toasted breads.

When you finish, the friendly droid again kindly leads you to Lord Vader’s private chambers. 

As the doors slide open, you nearly jump out of your skin when you find your master awaiting you, staring at the door expectantly as he anticipates your arrival.

 Forcing yourself to hold your head high, you saunter into the room as nonchalantly as you can muster. Your hands shake as you approach, and you clench them tightly in an attempt to push down your building nerves. 

“Morning, young one.” he greets you coolly, his deep voice resonating through the silence. 

“Good morning, My Lord.” you reply calmly, bowing to the Sith Lord. 

He gives you an approving nod as you rise, before turning to the large window behind himself, commanding you to join him. 

“Come.” he booms simply, and you oblige him. Standing next to him only highlights the size difference between the two of you, seeing as you only reach his shoulder at the highest. 

All the lights of the room both overhead and from electric controls shine off of Vader’s helmet and armor, creating almost an aura of light which glints off of him. Your eyes are drawn to the heavy slant of his shoulders with his cape draped over, and the curve of his very evident biceps beneath his thick suit. Your face reddens slightly before you turn to face the window, feeling a measure of shame for looking at a Sith Lord in such a way. 

The two of you gaze out at the expanse of stars before you, and you can’t help but marvel at the sight. Being from a small planet and having been enslaved since you were just a young girl, you had never any chance to explore or travel, no matter how badly you may have wanted to. 

One of the things that amazes you the most as you stare out into space is the realisation that the stars are colourful.

There are stars of every colour you can imagine, and most of them are planets. Each star glittering across the sky in endless hues, they remind you of the fields of wildflowers that were common on your home-planet. 

For a fleeting moment, you imagine lying amongst the stars and wrapping yourself in a blanket made of space itself, before Vader speaks again. 

“I have arranged a test for you today.” he asserts, his tone unreadable. 

Cocking your head, you glance up at your master, questioning exactly what sort of test he had in mind. 

“We need to have the understanding that we can trust in one another if I am to take you on in personal servitude.” He explains, sensing your curiosity. 

You can feel yourself go cold as the words sink in. It could be any kind of test, and ice cold pangs of fear grip your heart as you pray you do not fail. 

Failure is simply not an option. 

The trembling in your fingers only worsens, and to your horror, Vader notices. 

He takes one of your quivering hands tightly within his own before placing the other heavy, leather-clad hand over top of yours. His touch is like holding a livewire, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it makes you jolt in your skin. 

His gaze albeit masked is fixed upon you as he speaks, the air catching in your throat. 

“I can sense your fear, your hurt. Your rage.” he says, a reassuring tone hidden in his distorted voice. “Use them. Do not fear me.” he commands, before dropping your hand like he had never touched it in the first place. 

Not fearing him was a hefty task indeed. 

You say nothing in response, swallowing thickly and flexing your fingers to rid them of the lingering sensation of his touch. 

Just then, the ship begins to descend on a barren planet. The land is desolate, clouds of smoky-coloured dust covering the rough, rocky terrain. 

You take deep breaths to steady yourself as the ship lands, still reeling from the touch along with your nerves and their gnashing teeth gnawing at the back of your mind. 

As you disembark, you can feel how tightly wound your body is with anticipation. Despite this, you diligently follow your master as he treks along the barren, grey landscape, leading you to a wide clearing in the rocky wasteland. 

All around you are boulders and crystals of enormous size, and you figure this must be an Empire-controlled resource planet. 

Looking up to the violet sky, you pray to the maker that you make it out of this in one piece. 

Vader stops at once, turning to regard you once more as you come to stand before him. 

“Before we begin,” he starts “What is your name?” he asks, striking you with the realisation that you had not yet told him, and that he almost certainly already knew it. Truthfully, you had nearly forgotten that you had a name, as more derogatory terms were commonly used to refer to slaves. It is a strange thought that Lord Vader would even care to know it. 

“(Y/N).” you answer dutifully. 

“(Y/N).” he confirms before speaking again. “As I previously stated, we must be without a shadow of a doubt that we trust in one another. I have brought you here to assess that fact.” he explains, his droning voice reverberating off of the jagged walls of the terrain surrounding you. 

Doing your best to maintain your shaken composure, you watch as the Sith Lord strides a few paces away before speaking again once more. 

“I will test you, as you will test me.” He iterates, now turning towards you and watching you for a moment. 

Rooted to the spot, you clench your shaking hands and swallow the lump in your throat, fixing your gaze upon Lord Vader.

 You will test him? What could he possibly mean by that? 

You watch in thinly veiled terror as he raises his right hand and the ashen earth around you begins to tremble. A large mass of sparkling crystal sizable enough to crush a freighter breaks away from the earth, beginning to levitate.

Stomach in knots and your mind racing, you watch in horror as it rises impossibly high and comes to a stop directly over your head. 

In your youth you had heard tales of the Jedi and the Sith, but you had always taken them with a grain of salt. It is then that you come to understand that the stories were true, and the force is more powerful than you could ever have imagined. 

Vader’s voice cuts through your frenzied train of thought, snapping you back into the moment. 

“Focus on me.” he instructs you, holding the spiked mass of crystals steady above you, pulling it higher. 

Although every atom in your body screams at you to run, you know there is no point. Wiping away the fine sweat forming on your brow, you obey your master, fixing your widened eyes upon him. 

“Feel your fear.” he commands in a guiding tone. “Feel it, and understand that I will never harm you.” 

Dread cuts into your chest like knives, and still you obey. You feel the goosebumps on every inch of your skin, your muscles poised to flee, and the fine tremble running through you in waves. 

You look upon Lord Vader who holds your life in his hands so effortlessly. Focusing on the expressionless countenance of his helmet, you envision looking into his eyes and finding unwavering certainty there. 

You stand as a statue as the massive crystal drops, time itself seeming to slow, and you don’t so much as blink when Vader catches it just before it hits.

“Very good.” Darth Vader affirms, before reeling back and launching the crystals far off into the distance; the sound of impact only coming as a murmured echo. 

Sighing a huge breath of relief, your shoulders and head droop as the tension washes away in waves. When you lift your head, the Sith Lord is in front of you again, this time holding a cylindrical silver and black object in his outstretched right hand, motioning for you to take it. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks as you carefully take it from him, examining the activation switch on the side. 

“Yes,” you affirm as you inspect the object with great curiosity. “It is a lightsaber.” 

You had seen them in use only once when your planet was under siege, but you had also seen them traded by smugglers a handful of times.

 However, you had never held one. The metal is cool to the touch, and it is deceptively heavy in your hands as you marvel at it, turning it over and over in your hands. 

“Turn it on.” Vader demands, cutting your observation short. You swallow your nerves, holding the lightsaber in your right hand and placing your thumb over the switch. You jump as you press it, the glowing crimson plasma blade instantly shooting out with a sharp sound.

The glowing saber incandesces between the two of you, red light illuminating Vader’s ominous visage. 

“Good. Now off.” he directs, and you obey immediately. 

“Now, we test my faith in you.” he states intently, stepping closer and closer until he is merely an arm’s length away, looming expectantly over you. 

Stomach tingling and your mind blank, you watch as he harshly grips the wrist of your right hand and presses the unarmed lightsaber against the blinking control panel on his chestplate, the shocking sensation of his touch feeling a million miles away. 

Staring at where the hilt of the blade rests against his armor, you have the cold understanding that you could kill him right now. 

You could kill him, and yet it would do nothing to change your fate. 

It takes a moment to realise he’s staring at you before you look up to meet the blank gaze of his mask. Somehow you can feel it in him, the faith he has in you and the understanding that killing him would not save you. 

You’re like that for a moment, staring at each other and listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing before he steps away, and you hand the lightsaber back to him. 

“Well done.” he praises as he beckons you to follow. “Come. We are done here.” 

You both board Lord Vader’s ship once again, your mind and emotions still reeling from the stress of the situation you just managed to live through as he calmly leads you to his chambers.

“Make yourself comfortable.” he orders as you enter the room, and you waste no time in shrugging off your outermost robe, leaving on your cowl and belted underdress. Plopping wearily onto one of the long couches in the room, you notice that it’s notably firmer than the plush furnishings of your suite, though you were in no place to complain. 

Lord Vader stares at you for a moment, and you become bashful at the idea of him looking upon your uncovered skin, before he turns to his place at the large window to watch as the ship takes off. 

You wonder if he does anything other than stare out the window in contemplation. 

Straightening yourself up, you watch the grey planet fade away as the ship flies, bidding the site of your near-grave a goodbye before looking around the room in which you sit. 

Now that you have the chance to really look, you take in your surroundings. To your right, the wall with the door is covered in blinking controls which you can only assume are either used to manipulate aspects of the room or call droids and Imperial personnel. On the far wall opposite where you sit, there is a large open doorway into an illuminated room housing an enormous tank filled with a mysterious blueish liquid, and you wonder what the purpose for it could possibly be. 

You don’t see a bed in the room, so you assume that Vader sleeps elsewhere. That is, if he indeed sleeps. 

In the left hand corner of the opposite wall, you can see a long white table littered with various parts, mechanisms and tools laid out upon it, and you find it mildly interesting that Darth Vader likes to tinker. 

The Sith Lord’s voice cuts through your curious observations like a razor.

“What do you know of the force?” He asks, peering over his shoulder at you. 

You’re stunned for a moment before you answer. 

“I must admit, Lord Vader, I know very little, as it was forbidden to be taught on my homeworld.” you reply truthfully, caught off guard by the seemingly random question. It was true, the ways of the force were not formally taught as a form of trying to shield the people of your home-planet from the Empire; all you know are the legends and the myths that were told as stories. 

Lord Vader nods in acceptance. 

“This ship is equipped with an entire library full of knowledge of the force, both light and dark; Jedi and Sith. You are free to utilise it if you so wish.” He offers, but it sounds more like an order.

Feeling as though there’s something he’s not saying, you simply nod.

“Thank you master.” you accept graciously with a soft smile. 

He only nods in reply, gaze lingering heavily upon you before he turns away from the window, pacing over to his work bench in the opposite corner from where you sit and taking a seat. 

You do not know how long he toils over his machines, nor how long you accompany him in doing so. 

The last thing you remember before waking up in your own bed is dozing off on Lord Vader’s couch. 

Confused and unaware of how you got back to your suite, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and sit up. As you rise, a gentle knock sounds behind the door. 

“Come in!” you call out, clearing your throat and wetting your lips. 

The friendly droid enters, bowing to you and chirping its greetings. 

“Good evening, Madam! I’m assured you’re ready for your meal?” it asks politely. Smiling softly at the kind droid, you nod. 

“Yes, please.”

After all, the stress of the day's activities has left you quite hungry, your stomach growling at the thought of the decadent spreads you’ve been spoiled with. 

The droid steps out for a moment, promptly returning with a spread no less extravagant than the others you’ve been lucky enough to enjoy. Tonight, your meal consists of a striking plum-coloured stew, accompanied by an herbed mash of root vegetables, and crusty baked breads still warm from the oven. 

As you eat, a curious and humorous thought crosses your mind, and you set down your spoon to ask the droid a question. 

“Was it you that carried me all the way back here?” you giggle playfully, finding amusement in the idea of the spindly droid hauling you through the corridors.

“No milady, Lord Vader saw to that himself.” the droid answers dutifully. 

Knowing it is incapable of lying, the idea hits you like a train, and you’re struck by it for a moment. 

Carrying you to your room seemed like a task that would be uncharacteristically tender, too gentle for Vader to carry out. You can feel the flush that spreads across your cheeks as you come to the understanding that there is still much you do not know about your master. 

“Oh, um. Give him my thanks.” you reply quietly, leaving it at that.

“As you wish, Milady.” the droid affirms. 

Spending the rest of your meal in contemplative silence, it does you well, nourishing and soothing your tired body. 

Before the droid leaves you for the night, you request the books that Lord Vader had mentioned, thinking some studying may help you to understand your master, even if just a small bit more. 

It happily delivers them to you, leaving you with a stack of thick and heavy books with weathered bindings. 

Elsewhere, Darth Vader paces in his chamber, heavy footsteps echoing around him. 

He is quite satisfied with the recent turn of events, knowing surely now that your spirit had not been broken by your life of torment, but that it was bendable.

It was true that you had great fear within you, but your lust for power and your anger was greater.  Your suffering had made you fierce, it made you courageous. 

The Emperor will be pleased. 

Remembering the strength in your expression as you had connected with him while your very life hung in the balance, the absolute, steady faith you had in him; And then the dichotomy of holding your serenely peaceful sleeping body in his arms, your angelic calmness, he feels an unfamiliar flutter in his chest before shaking it off. 

Spending the rest of the night flipping through an ancient tome, you are thoroughly intrigued by the stories contained within. They read like fairy tales; tales of heroic bravery, of villainous contempt, of epic battles and galactic love. 

They’re enchanting, reminding you of those cherished times as a child when your parents would read to you before putting you to bed. 

Well into the late hours of the night, you finally ready yourself for sleep, yawning and stretching as you shrug off your garments. 

As you lay out an outfit for the next day, you catch a glimpse of a passing moon. It’s beautiful, a light yellow hue to the pallid monolith as it glows. Moons always reminded you of solitude, your only companion in those quiet hours of the night. As you watch it pass, you silently hope that you dream of your mysterious suitor again. 

Your prayers are answered. 

Becoming aware of your surroundings, your eyes scan the room around you. It’s a more intimate setting this time, a quaint stone cottage within a verdant forest. There are strange herbs and flowers hung to dry all about the room, leaving it with a floral, green aroma. 

Sitting on the floor in front of a warm, crackling fire, your vision finally adjusts to your dimly lit setting, and you spot the one you had wished for standing just within the doorway. 

He smiles warmly as your eyes land on him, exposing a row of perfect teeth. You can’t help but to smile back. 

Striding out of the shadows, he joins you by the fire, nestling you against his side. His energy is the same and you can feel it just as strongly as before, entrancing and sultry as the fire before you. 

You spend a long moment just looking at him, committing every aspect of his features to memory in case you never get the pleasure of seeing him again. 

He’s still got that warm smile on his face as he gazes back at you, making your stomach flutter. His hair falls in perfect golden waves on his shoulders, framing his outstandingly handsome features. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown wide as he looks upon you; his full, pink lips parted. 

Feeling the heat in your body rising, spreading across your face and tinging the tips of your ears, you look away shyly. 

The connection you feel with this man still baffles you, it doesn't make any sense, leaving you confused and questioning whether you can even trust your own emotions. 

Though, you suppose dreams don’t have to make any sense. 

Reaching over to you, he brushes a tress of hair away from your face to read your expression, pulling your attention back to him. 

You blink sheepishly at him through long lashes as he hooks a finger under your chin, turning you to face him fully. Goosebumps form instantly at the contact, your hairs standing on end as a wistful sigh leaves your lips. 

He brings your face so close to his own that you can feel his gentle breaths tickling your lips. The air, the energy between you is like a thunderstorm; intense, restless, and exhilarating. 

You revel in the way he touches you like something that threatens to break. 

The realisation then hits you that this is your first time seeing him unhidden by his cloak. You take your time in taking in all the new details you had missed, noticing a lengthy scar on the right side of his face, running nearly all the way from his hairline to just below his eye. 

He slowly curls a strong arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, never breaking eye contact while doing so. Following his movements obediently, you shift your legs to wrap around his waist as you perch on him; the tips of your noses tickling each other as you adjust yourself.

 You want, you crave nothing more than this closeness and contact with him.

After being denied pleasant, consensual human contact for so long, the feeling is intoxicating. It makes your head swim, and your heartbeat race. 

Still face to face, you delicately raise your right hand, ghosting the tips of your fingers down the length of his scar, taking great care in case it’s still painful for him. Your fingers buzz and tingle, like nerve endings coming back to life after having fallen asleep. 

Lips parting and eyes falling shut at your touch, he presses his forehead against yours. 

Your whole body lights up and hums at the sensation, like a static charge. His intense and all-consuming energy surrounds you, threatening to swallow you whole. 

And you let it. You let him in. 

Holding the doors to your mind open, you begin receiving visions. 

Visions of a small boy with tawny hair and bright blue eyes. Visions of the familiar sandy, dual-sunned landscape of Tatooine. Visions of that small boy toiling away in the shop of a cruel junk dealer. 

Your eyes fly back open with the newfound understanding that the child was him, that he truly had lived a life like yours. 

In this moment, as your heart races and your eyes flit between his, he feels like the person closest to you in the entire world. 

He looks back at you with soft eyes. The expression on his face is one that says: 

This is me. Do you see it? This is me. 

Overwhelmed by the connection, by the painful swelling of your heart in your chest, you let instinct lead rather than logic.

Leaning into him further, you brush your lips just barely over the full curve of his, inviting him to close the distance.

Instantly he relents, capturing your own lips with his, pure passion and intense longing radiating off of him in waves. 

As he tangles a large hand in your soft hair, you can feel your heart thumping against your ribcage, your blood rushing through your veins. Draping your arms over his sturdy shoulders, the very air around the two of you feels electric, tingling and crackling with released tension. Lips locking over and over, hands everywhere, tongues tasting each other in the heat of your fiery desire, you send a message through your ministrations. 

I see you. You say with every touch of the lips, every tease of his tongue, every rake of your nails across the soft skin of his abdomen. I see you. 

When you finally break the session to suck in greedy gasps of much needed air, he bites onto your bottom lip, prolonging the contact for as long as possible. He clutches you tightly, possessively to his strong body, as if you could be ripped from his arms at any moment; his own chest heaving as he breathes. 

He slides a large, rough hand up the small of your back, steadying you as you rest your head on his shoulder for a moment. Pressing a feather light kiss to the petal-soft skin of his throat, your eyes slide shut with great satisfaction. 

Credz: 

Lightsaber graphic creds: @saradika  

Taglist: 

@heyitsaloy

@poisonedsultana

@cryptidsrcool 

@mayhemories 

[babybells123]

There is something so beautifully anvilicious about these quotes;

" I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise." (AFFC, Alayne II)

"The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . ." (ASOS, Jon V)

Both Jon and Sansa are yearning for Winterfell and the feelings/memories/family associated -but both are intrinsically restricting themselves based off of their bastard status. The notion of Sansa being the only Stark (and character) to transition from a high-born noble lady to a baseborn bastard cannot be overlooked. (And then of course, the notion of Jon being the only Stark (and character) to transition from baseborn bastard to lord commander, cannot be overlooked.) Jon has risen to the top whilst Sansa has lowered to the bottom.

She (GRRM) makes the comparison to Jon herself, meaning that GRRM makes the comparison himself. this isn't something interpreted by fans - it is right there, explicitly within the text.

Sansa's desire to reunite with Jon is "sweet," it'd be almost like a dream come true. Jon's "dream was sweet" as well. But "Winterfell could never be his" and seeing her brother once again "of course, could never be" (possible).

And then later on in the text, Jon is offered the chance to become Jon Stark, and have Winterfell in name. Thus his decidedly unsubtle desire (that he dismisses as an entirely impossible dream) is fulfilled by Stannis' offer, even though he eventually rejects it in truth "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa."

There is also the quote that precedes Jon's "sweet dream," where he fantasises about a beautiful little romance with Ygritte; showing her a flower from the glass gardens, feasting her in the great hall, bathing in the hot pools, and loving beneath the heart tree. This dream is directly connected to Winterfell and is obviously sexually + romantically charged.

So whilst Jon's desire is partially fulfilled (even if he doesn't accept it) can we possibly assume that Sansa's simultaneously unsubtle "that could never be" may also be fulfilled? Since GRRM seems to really be beating us over the head with how 'that could never happen' from Sansa's internal monologue "no one will ever marry me for love" is reiterated multiple times (just you wait sweet one!) and Sansa desiring to reunite with her brother who she has modelled her bastardry after, who is supposedly the only brother left to her, is immediately dismissed by Sansa because she's accepted the fact that she'll never be with her family again, (and that she shall never encounter true love).

The connections only keep connecting!

So to summarise:

Jon & Sansa both have "sweet" dreams/desires that connect to Winterfell/family.

Jon's dream is sexually/romantically charged, involves a red-headed girl, and establishes Jon's suppressed desires as actually romantic.

Both Jon and Sansa are bastards in these contexts.

Both Jon and Sansa woefully dismiss these dreams/desires as impossible as "that could never be" and "it could never be his to show."

Jon's desire however is later offered on a silver platter by Stannis Baratheon, to which he mulls over and states that he "has always wanted it" (to be his). Though he later refuses Stannis' offer on the basis that "Winterfell belongs to Sansa" - twice over he says this.

Jon 'giving' Winterfell to Sansa is in direct contrast to Robb (Sansa's image of an honourably idealistic older brother) flat out rejecting Sansa's claim on the basis of her marriage to Tyrion.

Jon thus establishes himself as the only character who respects and protects Sansa's claim. Who does not abuse or exploit it. (Even though he was given the opportunity for it and it's been his innermost desire since childhood.)

In a way, this further conveys Jon as Sansa's unspoken, subconscious hero who is protecting her interests and instilling all those heroic ideals (such as the Janos Slynt situation) - though she does not realise it and has accepted that "there are no heroes" at all. But Jon is the true hero, hiding in plain sight.

So, whilst Sansa believes there are no heroes, Jon fulfils those ideals. Whilst Sansa believes no one will marry her for love, Jon exists as the embodiment of all the chivalric, romantic ideals that she's so desperately wanted.

Can we now assume that Sansa believing that she will essentially never see Jon again as entirely anvilicious as she will in fact see Jon again?

GEORGE I'M IN YOUR WALLS.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Christmas (11) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

A Christmas Pharol (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: Dan Howell hates Christmas.

On the night of Christmas Eve (2014), Dan Howell is visited by an old coworker who claims she will show him the meaning of Christmas. They take a journey through his past, get a peek into who he is in the present and then glimpse the future Dan desperately wants. Dan learns to appreciate what the holiday means to him and accepts who he is in his heart.

all i want for christmas (is you) (ao3) - lestered (clonetrobed)

Summary: He finds himself huffing out a small, high-pitched laugh that he couldn’t even dream of passing off as part of his natural register. “Hah… yeah. Mhm. Nice. Morn… ing. Yup. Sure is.”

Dan’s smile falls a tiny bit, a hint of confusion flickering behind his eyes. Unfortunately, that’s an expression Phil is all too familiar with receiving.

AU where Dan is Phil's Christmas coworker crush, and awkward boys are awkward.

All I Want for Christmas (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan plans to spend the Christmas alone, Phil isn't going to let that happen.

All I Want For Christmas (ao3) - sleepyslag (galacticneighbor)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve 2009, and Dan's about to leave to spend Christmas with his family- until Phil goes into an unexpected heat.

All I Want for Christmas is You (ao3) - Emptylester (timelordangel)

Summary: In which Dan is the best present Phil could have asked for.

All I Want for Christmas is You (ao3) - Evening42

Summary: Phil plans to spend Christmas apart from Dan again with their respective families, however all Dan wants is to spend Christmas together.

All I Want for Christmas is You. (ao3) - scifi (orphan_account)

Summary: it’s almost christmas and all it takes is a cup of mulled wine for dan to realise he has been in love with phil all along

and a tiny horse in a christmas tree (ao3) - phegetarian

Summary: Daniel Howell is living a work-centric life in the city. What happens when he reluctantly agrees to go back to his hometown for Christmas and meets a new resident?

Christmas at the Lester's (ao3) - trashcanfromgallifrey

Summary: Inspired by Dan and Phil telling us about the pre-christmas visit at Phil’s parents<3

A quite fluffy fic that also goes into themes of finding safety in Phil’s family when they were closeted.

Christmas Catharsis (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan runs into his ex (bully) while buying milk.

Christmas lights on rainy nights (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: "I’m gonna see that fucking tree if I have to swim the rest of the goddamn way"

When Dan and Phil end up in New York in December, they decide to make the most of it and see some iconic Christmas decorations. They're trying their best to figure the city out, but the weather just isn't cooperating.

city of sin and minced pies (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan and Phil try to finish watching the bake off finale, but Phil interrupts them for a very important reason.

December 2023 (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: December is filled with bonus podcasts he and Phil will be recording, amongst of course his regular podcasts due at their scheduled times, and then there’s all the holidays and all the while all the Everything. Dan’s tired just thinking about it. And before he can even open his mouth to complain he stops himself because he turns and sees Phil laying on the couch with his head in Dan’s lap, looking exhausted as well. He’s been run ragged at the print shop since the middle of November.

December Scare (ao3) - ShowMeHowToLie

Summary: In which Dan, finally home from the US tour, has an accident while preparing for Christmas at the phouse with Phil.

early morning tea (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil take a moment to relax and reflect in between the chaos of Gamingmas and family Christmas celebrations.

heaven is a seat beside you (on a northbound train) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: set at Christmas 2014

How Dan (Almost) Stole Christmas (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: “It was a serious oversight, in stealing from the rich, that you couldn’t really tell if they were unbothered because the money never mattered, or unbothered because they had so much cash they were using it to insulate their walls.”

For thirty-three years Dan’s lived up in the hill districts outside Who-ville, watching the wealthy elites celebrate their Christmases in the valley with glitter and food and an unfathomable amount of expensive gifts while the rest of the world was left cold and hungry, completely ignored. Between the off-key choir concerts and the way he could feel the icy wind through his uninsulated walls on Crumpit Lane, he had enough of it. It’s time for Who-ville to see what Christmas is like for everyone else, even if that means taking it by force.

A How the Grinch Stole Christmas AU

It's quiet uptown (ao3) - Frog910

Summary: Dan is spending Christmas with the Lester's for the first time and is struggling with internalised homophobia.

Mini Christmas (ao3) - cosmic_angel_writes

Summary: Dan and Phil’s mini Christmas

2024

no matter how far away you roam (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Some things will never change, like Dan and Phil video calling each other from their family homes over Christmas.

Not in Nottingham (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: “You’re doing it again,” Phil mutters, after he takes an obliging sip.

“Hmm.”

“You need taking care of and you're taking care of me instead.”

Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree (ao3) - sleepyslag (galacticneighbor)

Summary: Five years ago, Dan Howell broke his best friend's heart to pursue a music career.

Five years ago, Phil Lester left Manchester to start over in the US.

Now, weeks before Christmas and in the middle of Dan's latest tour, the two of them meet again when Dan winds up stranded in a small town in Pennsylvania. With Dan's tour postponed until after the holidays and Phil's community center at risk of shutting down, can the two exes come together to save it, or will the demands of Dan's career tear them apart again?

santa baby (ao3) - ShiwiSins (IetjeSiobhan)

Summary: “Tell me,” Dan purrs, “have you been nice or naughty this year?”

Or: Dan dresses up in a sexy Santa outfit.

Silent Night (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Lawyer Dan Howell just wanted a white Christmas to himself up North to get away from it all.

A blizzard, an old church, and its overly-cheerful deacon might change that.

'tis the damn season (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan is the coffee shop regular at the shop Phil just started working at. Phil quickly learns that Dan is a bit of a Grinch who refuses to try the shops' holiday drinks, or anything new really. Phil's determined to change Dan's mind about the holiday drinks.

traditions (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Phil can learn to be okay with leaving some holiday traditions in the past-as long as he can hold onto the one that's most important.

-

Set during the first Christmas at the phouse in 2022 and the spiritual successor to "meeting the parents".

Twinkling lights (ao3) - anyrandohuman

Summary: Legit just shameless festive smut

You and I, We don't wanna be like them (ao3) - phasamtasie

Summary: Phil tries to appear cool when Dan comes to visit him for the first time, but struggles to fall asleep without his favourite plushie. When he admits to his secret, Dan answers with a confession of his own that inspires Phil’s first christmas gift to Dan.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 5

Warnings: bleeding out, gravely injured Villain, stab wounds, corrupt Superhero

Hero smiled wolfishly, casually propping her feet up on the table with ankles crossed. "Nah, you owe me for the whole 'saving your life' thing. I deserve a free drink."

Villain coughed out a wheezy laugh, then winced at the pain it cost him. "Would now be an appropriate time to question your motives for saving me?" He asked, remembering the conversation from the alley.

Hero tilted her head to one side like an owl studying something intriguing. Something about it put Villain on edge. "Because I'm a hero. It's what we do, we save people."

"Not good enough." Villain shook his head. "Superhero is a hero too, yet he would kill me without remorse. So why did you really help me?"

Hero frowned thoughtfully, mulling it over for a few minutes, and when her answer came it was slow, but honest. "Maybe... maybe I felt that someone like you didn't deserve to die, maybe I thought all you needed is a second chance. Because... maybe you were just unlucky in life, to end up here. Maybe you were dealt a bad hand, maybe something happened that made you cold and bitter. Maybe that's why you became a villain, not because you enjoy hurting people, but because... it's all you've ever known. Stereotypical villain type, a man gone bad due to past trauma, you know?" She quirked an eyebrow quizzically. "Am I wrong to assume that?"

Villain averted his eyes, blood running cold. She wasn't quite right... but she wasn't wrong, either. He raised a weak hand to his face, realizing his mask was gone. Not that it mattered anyway. But it exposed a giant spiderweb of vicious raised scars that covered nearly his whole face, most from serious burns, marring his features. He looked terrifying, like a classic monster.

"...Will you tell me what turned you into a villain if I ask nicely?" Hero teased lightly, but Villain could see the intense curiosity in her eyes.

He chewed his lip, cautious and distrusting. "I guess it's because the world wouldn't accept me as the good guy," he mumbled, half wishing Hero wouldn't hear it. But Hero nodded patiently for him to continue, and Villain swallowed hard.

"I tried to fit in, to be good, and for a while it worked. I was happy, and kind, and charming; a normal guy with big dreams and a great future ahead of him... until my luck and life changed forever." Villain gestured meaningfully to the mass of burn scars stretching across his face. "I was involved in a tragic accident, and now no one sees beyond my face. They see these scars and it terrifies them, but what they don't know is that I got them running into a burning building to save a little girl." Villain's voice hitched, and he tried to squash down the wave of emotions rising in him as he vividly relived the moment that forever changed him. He forced himself to keep talking, though his voice was shaky.

"I was brave like a hero -- I ran straight into fire, and both literally and metaphorically got burned for it. I saved a life, but mine ended that day. I spent weeks in the hospital, but when I was discharged... everything was different. No one wanted to hire me. They were all too scared of how I looked, because I was intimidating to customers. Bad for business." Villain's lip curled angrily. "I really did try to be good, but I was rejected at every turn, no one would give me a chance to show my worth. All I wanted, all I needed, was one opportunity. But eventually I found it was more beneficial to me to become a criminal instead, to take what I wanted and hurt anyone who got in the way. And now here I am." He gestured dramatically to his whole broken body laying on the couch.

Hero's face filled with newfound understanding and sympathy, before confusion replaced it. "But... you run the entire coffee shop, and you've never worn a mask when serving customers. How did none of us see your scars?"

"Several hours of my morning every day dedicated to using facial molding makeup to hide all the damage. Like the stuff they use in movies to hide imperfections or change a face's shape." Villain smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The stuff's expensive to buy, but I use a portion of the money I steal to cover the cost."

Hero leaned back in her chair, taking it all in. "Wow... you've really got it rough, huh?"

"Now you know why I spent my days fighting people like you," Villain snorted bitterly. "It's the only way I can make enough to stay off the streets and survive. By stealing and killing."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@federthenotsogreat @everynameistakencarrots

[literary-motif]

OK, I will wait for your original work so you can take my money and I will be your #1 fan. I want to show my appreciation to a cute, silly, and weird nerd like you. ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

BTW, can you please write about my sketch of Kayson? Thank you! https://ibb.co/ZN3344m

A reply to this post, if you're curious.

Strange Dreams

Kayson x Reader

You blinked your eyes open tiredly, confused that you were awake at all before you heard the lock of the front door turn. Raising your head from the soft pillows of the couch, you sat up enough to peek over the backrest and find Kayson trying to shut the door quietly. 

Just as he had eased it back into the lock without it making a sound — turning the key to lock the door for the night quietly — he leaned against it to take off his shoes. The bag he took with him to work swung against the rack of your umbrellas in his haste, and knocked it over with a loud clunk. 

“No, fuck,” he cursed, groaning in exasperation before remembering his initial intention of trying to keep quiet.

“I’m already awake,” you called out sleepily, blinking at him bleary-eyed as his head whirled around. “‘s waiting for you,” you mumbled, resting your chin on the cushions and stifling a yawn. 

You had been working on your thesis for the better part of the day, and it left you utterly exhausted. Questions you still needed to address floated through your head, the black letters of the text on your computer screen seemed etched into your vision whenever you closed your eyes. The sentences you had mulled over for ages echoed in your mind, twisting nearly into unrecognizable monstrosities of grammar and utter senselessness.

You needed to sleep. If only your mind would shut up.

Kayson slipped off his shoes, giving you a warm smile as he moved towards the couch. “I told you not to do that,” he whispered, bending down to place a kiss against your forehead. “Don’t stay up for me. Sometimes the customers justwon’t go and I’m stuck staring at them for half an hour before I can close up. It’s already well past midnight, Prefect.” 

He let his bag fall against the side of the couch before sitting next to you. Instinctively, you scooted closer. Kayson wrapped an arm around you, gently pulling you into his side. 

“You should really kick them out,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. Keeping your eyes open was a losing battle, but you tried your best. 

Kayson chuckled, planting a kiss against the top of your head. “It’s against company policy,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against your hair and taking a deep breath of your scent. Having you in his arms never failed to relax him, and feeling you sink against him as you slowly slipped into sleep brought a tired smile to his face.

“Miss you when you’re not here,” you mumbled, sighing deeply as you shifted a little to get more comfortable and promptly fell asleep against him. 

Your words made his heart swell with love, and Kayson could not help breaking out into a wide smile. You were adorable. “I love you, too,” he whispered, squeezing you tighter as he allowed his eyes to close. He did not even care to remove his black bowtie, blissfully falling into the land of sleep with you tucked into his side.

Both of you would regret spending the night on the couch as you felt your aching muscles in the morning. Kayson would offer to give you a massage to soothe the soreness of your neck, and you would readily accept, telling him all about the crazy stuff you had dreamed about last night. 

It was strange. You had not even researched Cerberus, but as you told Kayson about the image of his face on the three-headed dog, you realized that it was the perfect creature to offer you a link to the mythics of the past. 

How beautifully practical that you found the answers to problems in your thesis while sleeping next to Kayson.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 14 A-Mid-Sodor No More

Day 14 A-Future 

Other Stories

Other Days

Sir Handel sat in the yard, trying to mull through his feelings. A group had visited the Skarloey, or more accurately the former Mid-Sodor engines on the Skarloey.

They were rebuilding part of the line. The Mid-Sodor would once again exist. Starting from King Orry’s Bridge, they would work their way down the line, until they met the Arlesdale Railway.

Sir Handel didn't know what to think. He'd often thought longingly of the glory days of his old line during his early years on the Skarloey, and dreamed of returning there, returning home.

The former Mid-Sodor engines had been invited to visit once more track had been relaid but…

He didn't want to.

Somewhere along the line he had stopped seeing the Mid-Sodor as home. Oh he certainly missed it, but loathe as he was to admit it even to himself, the Skarloey was home. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised, he'd lived on the line since the fifties, but to not even visit his old home?

Except it wouldn't be his old home.

He sighed as he accepted what he had already subconsciously knew. Just as he was no longer Falcon, this line was not the old Mid-Sodor, for all it laid on the same trackbed. Seeing the new line would be the final proof that his old home was gone, that even if it wasn't…he was no longer the same engine. He wasn't ready to face that. Maybe someday…but not now.