#even if it's gonna take some time to fully pull him out of his self-deprecation...

[aletheialed]

Barok's eyes widen and he genuinely startles at Ryunosuke's sudden burst of passion - seemingly out of nowhere. Or maybe he had felt this way all along...? Moreso than anything else, Barok hadn't realized that Ryunosuke felt so strongly about him of all people - and it makes some kind of emotion stir in him to realize that. What did he do to receive this kind of unwavering respect? This dedication?

Surely, Barok has only done what any man would do when it comes to pursuing the truth? Though... perhaps, deep down, he knows that isn't entirely true. But it's difficult to feel any sense of pride when he still feels the way he does... like he's been useless, and even more than that, used.

Despite those feelings, Barok finds a shadow of a smile ghosts across his face at Ryunosuke's last witty retort.

"I thank you. And I apologize as well. It was not my intention to be so dismissive of your words." He almost wants to throw a similarly witty comment back, as if they were in court once more - but perhaps he's not quite confident enough yet for that, as a result of the topic of conversation.

Momentarily, Barok wonders a little if he's jealous of this young Japanese man. For being able to take down the Reaper where he could not - Barok still can't help but feel like his efforts amounted to very little in the end - or maybe for that upstanding sense of justice he has, never having allowed it to become twisted under the weight of betrayal. ...He doesn't think that jealousy is exactly it, though. He just... wants to be worthy of being seen the way Ryunosuke seems to see him.

"At the very least, there is one thing I have no excuse for. The way I have treated you and your fellow countrymen has been... shameful." He's apologized once for that already, but it was only in a brief moment.

"That you would allow me to place my trust in you for that trial, even after all of that... it's quite incredible to me."

And just like that, Ryunosuke feels something building inside his chest: a fiery heat growing hotter by the second, climbing in tendrils through the gaps in his ribs and outward—something he can’t contain. The very instant van Zieks counters that earnest praise with his own explanation of his apparent deficiencies, it’s not as though Ryunosuke has much of a choice. He can’t help it. He can’t resist the way the wrongness of every statement prickles at his skin, like he’s there behind his stand again, catching a hole in someone’s story and knowing he can’t rest until he tears it wider.

Up until now, he feels that he’s kept his manners . . . well in check. But right as the mention of weakness falls through his companion’s lips, Ryunosuke fears he loses himself. —which might, in some vein, be for the better, or he’d have immediately fumbled over the returned compliments and been of absolutely no use to anyone.

“Lord van Zieks—!” He barks that name firmly. Confidently. Nearly commanding as he quickens his pace enough to round the man and stop him in his tracks. Ryunosuke’s hands plant on his hips, and though he’s exceptionally aware that van Zieks could easily walk around him (or even just shove past him . . . were he to forget his manners, as well), he widens his stance to better form a block. “I’m sorry”—a trace of decorum returns enough to squeeze that in—“but I don’t think I’ll stand for that kind of talk.”

Ryunosuke meets his eyes, unyielding. “You’re not weak for not seeing the truth. You were deceived. You were . . . hurt by people you thought you could trust, and that’s not on you. Everyone has things they don’t want to believe, things they do want to believe . . . and everyone has and will struggle with those beliefs at some point, maybe on several occasions, but that does not make you weak for missing it.” His expression softens slightly, though that resolution on his face doesn’t shift. 

“Really, if you’re any kind of man, it would seem you’re an absurd one.” He purses his lips. “To think that, after everything you’ve been through, you’re not strong for coming out on this side and dealing with the painful realities that you are.” Now, there’s a hint of a playful smile. “Where has your sense gone, and might I go acquire it for you?”

[kowaindar0u]

//

so. post-reimei thoughts. probably some minor spoilers but nothing super shocking or important. also, i will warn, yuichi's been to... very dark places, emotionally/mentally that could be triggering. i'm not gonna write about it in detail or anything but just a heads up!

well, for one, i have such a love-hate relationship with the way tkrb is so vague/open-ended about a lot of things LOL like the possibilities are endless but i'm stupid and also i get stressed about "oh what if i make something that doesn't fit" so i get myself in a locked situation thought-wise which is STUPID because thats the POINT of it being WIIIDE OPEN SPAAACES yknow!!!! but brains are idiots unfortunately lol

.... that being said,,

i like the whole... "had inklings of spiritual sensitivity/power for a while before it fully manifested" thing. i'd been thinking that's how i'd go with yuichi as it's reminiscent of like... mutants in x-men LOL

and, the fact that if one has those inklings, it's possible to reach out to/be reached out to by a touken danshi in some manner? or, i wonder, perhaps even manifest a tsukumogami spirit from something by then?

So, i guess with all that in mind

yuichi's life was, like, just... very unremarkable LOL. I don't think anything immensely bad happened to him, nor did anything positive of particular note, yknow? but even the mundane tends to overwhelm him and always has, and by the time he was an adult, his anxieties had kept him from really, like, branching out, taking chances, making many close friends, leaving the house unless absolutely necessary for work, etc. He was heavily depressed and quite lonely, but he felt It was nobody's fault but his own.

Zooming in toward the end of his "regular human" life:

So. he's got himself into a pit--or maybe more like a trench-- of despair. His entire psyche just ached, and if he thought too hard about his life and existence he would just break down and cry or throw himself into a panic attack. He doesn't eat enough, and sleeps way too much, when he's not lying awake ruminating in self-deprecation.

And then... things just start getting loud. It's worse outside, which has him leaving the house even less. It's like a ringing in his ears, layered over what seems like whispers. He's pretty sure he's just finally going insane from only being with himself so much.

One day he decides to leave the house. He hasn't been able to work lately, all things considered, and so he's running out of time for basic needs, and he cannot find a way in which anything gets better. He wants to find some place quiet-- but it's hard. Memories, spiritual energy, etc are everywhere, after all.

By the time he gets to the pier, it's raining, and he's a mess. He had every intention of climbing over that railing and just giving up. He's gripping the metal bars and screaming internally at himself to just do it already, and --

A surge of...something racks his brain, and had he not been holding the railing he'd have probably dropped to the ground.

In front of him now, just over the railing, is what looks like... a rip in the air...? through it, he can see swirls of color rushing by.

Oh, he thinks. This is it. I've finally cracked. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.

He's a little bit curious, even though he's telling himself this is just a hallucination or something. He's not even sure he can jump that far. But what does it matter? He came here to do that anyway.

So... he shakily clambers over the railing, takes in a deep breath, and jumps, reaching for that rip. Its edges seem to come to his hands instead, and he grabs on, somehow able to pull himself up and through the rip, and into the rushing tunnel of colors...

Only to get ran the fuck over by someone on a weird boat, ala the time travel sequence in hanamaru movie 1 !!

i don't know who it is atm but safe to say some poor toudan has to drag an unconscious yuichi onto his boat and bring him back to their citadel or the govt with him LOL

And from there... well, he learns everything he was hearing, was the result of latent spiritual abilities activating, and in his lowest, most distressed moment they sort of burst out, puncturing or pulling on the time-space pathway and making a hole... and the rest is history (pun intended)

maybe one day i'll write this out proper and add it to his bio. for now it's just gonna be in his tag cause i'm not very good at writing bios lol it's so awkward

ANYWAY i hope this made some kind of sense LOL?? and also that it isn't too depressing... he's better now... still plagued with depression and the gloominess but he is very loved <3 also after writing this it's so funny to me that he ... like... didn't really feel he had anything to go back to, so while as a formality there probably was a kind of ..."offer" of employment or whatever, and probably (definitely) some kind of rest period to make sure he was like... stable, lol... but other than that, he just kind of went from literally almost going off the deep end, to Saniwa

there was not really a "hmmm let me think about it and i'll get back to you" period he's just like "i think your confidence that i can do this is unearned but i don't really have a choice"

[eemamminy-art]

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. 🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why? 📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing? 💚💚💚

I'm gonna answer these a little out of order so I can hide the snippet under a cut at the end!!!

-

Fanfic ask game

-

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

I answered this here!

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing?

Hmm I can't imagine I can be self deprecating and be like "all of it? 🤪🤪🤪" gdshkgkdhs

I think for a real answer though, finding ways to more naturally and smoothly work in metaphors. My writing style is more literal, like, it's plenty verbose with descriptions and emotions and stuff but it's not very subtle. Which maybe isn't a bad thing, but it's certainly something I feel self-conscious about!!

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

I haven't touched any of my other wips in like 6 months or something so this is a snippet from my stardew valley fic! It's from a later chapter, from the POV of some of the other young townsfolk. Sebastian has some kind of beef with Mal that not even Mal can figure out, and he's kind of trying to pull the others onto his side while staying vague about it. It's just a fun bit of dialog that I really like, and I've been trying to finish the rest of the chapter recently! It's quite a ways out though, this is from chapter 19 and I'm posting chapter 6 tonight, to give you an idea. They're at the Luau which is a little summer barbecue potluck festival in the game, basically.

“Here, I got plates for each of you!” Sam declared excitedly, a proud grin on his face as he somehow balanced three fully loaded paper plates of barbecue food, carrying three ice cold Joja colas under his arm.

“That really didn’t take long, did it?” Sebastian said flatly, his arms crossed petulantly. His eyes were fixed on the far end of the beach. Abigail followed his gaze, while Sam was more focused on the food.

“Huh? I mean I guess so,” Sam agreed, tilting his head slightly as if he didn’t quite follow. “Gus is a real wiz on the grill.”

“Not that,” Sebastian sighed, taking the plate and offering a forced, small smile, “Thanks though.”

“What, Mal and Alex?” Abigail asked, prompting Sebastian to click his tongue irritatedly.

They were on the far side of the beach, easily over a few dozen yards away but shouting and whooping loud enough that their voices could be heard from the pier. Running around, tossing a gridball back and forth, tackling each other into the sand and all around just roughhousing— acting like a couple of children, despite being the tallest men in the whole town, save for maybe Demetrius.

“It is kind of a weird match-up. If anyone could put up with Alex though, it’d be Mal. He’s too nice,” Abigail mused, talking with baked beans in the corner of her mouth.

“Did you forget how annoying they used to be?” Sebastian reminded, taking a bite of his hot dog rather than elaborating.

“Oh yeah, now that you mention it…” Abigail agreed, swallowing her bite. “Alex was always following him around like a little puppy, right? He was kind of a wimpy kid.”

“You’d know something about following someone around like a puppy, Abs,” Sam teased, ducking as Abigail threw a roll past his head.

“At least I didn’t grow up to be an asshole like him!” Abigail retorted defensively, swiping Sam’s roll now that she’d tossed her own into the ocean.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that,” Sebastian teased dryly, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. If anything could pull his attention away from Mallory, it was Abigail.

“You too, Seb?” she cried out, exasperatedly.

“Aww, but you’re our asshole, so it’s fine,” Sam cooed, pulling Abigail into a side hug and kissing her cheek.

Sam turned his attention to the two on the far end of the beach at last, taking a few thoughtful bites of his food as he thought about the past.

Before Abigail, it was Mallory that rounded out their little trio. He was just as close to them as they are to each other now, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a pang of melancholy watching him frolic and play in the sand with Alex.

“Why did Mal stop hanging out with us, again?” Sam asked suddenly, looking to Sebastian. Abigail was silent, watching them both.

“He ditched us for Alex,” Sebastian answered flatly.

That made sense, seeing them now. Yet… That didn’t feel right. Sam couldn’t place exactly what it was, the memory felt locked away just out of reach.

“Oh yeah…” he decided to accept Sebastian’s answer, at least for now.

[generallybarzy]

compromise.

an: this is something that is very very personal to me. This, alongside my fics "Every Side of You", "Come Tomorrow Morning", and "Not Despite, But Unconditionally", are part of a collection of fics (with no plot or order) I'm going to dub the "Comfort Collection", which all deal with serious topics and Mat comforting you through tough times. Each and every one of these fics is going to be personal and close to my heart, whether they were written for me or for a friend.

summary: seeing something on the most recent Instagram post Mat made with you set you off into a destructive, toxic path.

triggers: eating disorders, body image issues, self-deprecation. Please don't read if this content will affect you negatively.

word count: 3k

You weren’t hungry.

Both you and your boyfriend Mathew cherished your mostly weekly routine of movie nights and take-out food. It was something you'd been doing since the beginning of your relationship, and something that had helped you grow closer and closer in the past few months. But tonight, something was wrong. You knew, and you had an inkling that Mat felt something was off too. Usually, you were cuddled up in his side, laughing and joking around at whatever dumb show or movie you put on. Tonight, though, you were withdrawn, scrolling through Instagram. Usually, you never hold back around him. You weren’t afraid of pigging out on some junk food with him, and he was always comfortable enough to claim it was his cheat day, but tonight, you weren’t hungry.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

God, that girl has such pretty legs- so long and slim… and her tummy is so flat, how do I get that???? Her boobs are so perky too, her arms are small enough for Mat to basically wrap a hand fully around her bicep….. Like every night, every post you scrolled past on Instagram made more insecurities pop up from within you. Mat definitely wishes I was her, why wouldn't he? She's so hot… much more than you. He's probably wishing you were that small, small, and skinny enough for him to pick you up like that. But you just have to keep eating, don't you? Can't stop putting on weight...

“Babyyyy.” You heard his sweet, familiar voice from beside you, and you glanced up from your phone to see Mat smiling and poking at your plate of take-out food with his fork. “Babe, I’m gonna steal all your food if you don’t eat it soon.” He smirked, knowing that you hated when he stole off your plate.

You couldn’t find the words to form a good sentence, let alone answer him in the playful, happy tone you’d been faking for so long. So you stayed quiet, giving the smallest, fakest half-smile and pushing the plate towards him. "You can have it if you want."

A beat of silence passed between you, the only sound being the movie on the TV.

"Baby?"

The soft whisper- filled with so much love and intensity, a pure, earnest worry- was enough to pull you out of your trance. Your eyes lifted slowly from the plate of take-out food in front of you that you'd barely even picked at since the two of you sat down, crisscrossed on the floor by the coffee table. You looked up, up to his worried face and his questioning hazel eyes. His hand reached out across the edge of the coffee table and found yours, lacing your fingers together and squeezing. Mat knew this wasn’t like you. You weren’t meek, quiet, and withdrawn, not with him, at least. This wasn’t the girl he grew in love with, who was never afraid to be herself around him. "What’s wrong?"

Something was wrong.

Mat was beautiful- so handsome, borderline physically perfect as if built by the gods themselves, and you- his girlfriend- were… well, you. Just you.

After the first Instagram post of the two of you together, you were initially overjoyed with the support. Everyone was happy for Mat, happy he had someone who made him happy, but there were a few who didn’t seem too supportive, who were "overprotective" of their favorite hockey player. If you weren't insecure before going public, before all the attention, now, all the comments, no matter how harmless- "I can't believe he'd like a girl like you", "usually Barzy only dates skinny girls"- those definitely stung a bit. But it wasn't just the well-intentioned bad comments like "wow, I didn't think barzy would date a curvy girl!". Those you could see didn't truly mean any harm. But a handful of people were still less than thrilled about Mat's public relationship.

"wow, he really downgraded after me, huh? didn't expect him to go after a fat girl 🤷‍♀️"

The first time you saw that comment, you realized just how much you actually cared about what other people thought of your relationship. It hurt you, as expected, and while part of you was shocked that someone would come at you like that, another part of you knew it had only been a matter of time. You wanted to ignore that comment, go on with your life, but you couldn’t help it. You went on a "quick" look through the girl’s account and found a picture from the summer before you met Mat, where she was clinging onto none other than your boyfriend in a tiny bikini, his big hand on her tiny, bare waist, and his lips on her cheek, looking so happy. And then, her words started to hurt a little bit more. It hurt more than it really should’ve to see pictures of Mat kissing someone who wasn’t you. You knew he dated before, of course he did, and you weren���t gonna be upset that he’d had girlfriends before, but it still made you feel a little insecure. She was his ex, she was literally model-gorgeous, and somehow, Mat had gone from her, to you. You knew you should have put your phone down then, you know what you were about to do was so stupid and would only leave you more insecure, but you looked through who Mat was following, and there she was, along with dozens of other pretty girls- Instagram models? His exes? Both? Or something worse?

You couldn't stop the toxic thoughts from filling your head with words you saw in the comments.

"Does he actually sleep with her? Probably just a pity fuck"

"Does it suck to not be able to be on top or else you'll crush him?"

"The girl on top is his favorite position, at least it was with me, don't know if he'd like seeing such a fat girl on top of him."

It wasn't long before you reached a toxic decision: Mat was way too perfect for you- in your current state at least- and he deserved a better-looking girlfriend. You'd been trying your hardest to lose weight for the longest time now, but nothing seemed to work. The longer it took, the more desperate you became- Mat would realize soon that he could do better than you if you didn't do something quick. So, in a moment of self-destruction and pity, you decided you wouldn't gain weight if you simply didn't eat.

It's been three days now, at least you think so, and the most you'd eaten was a strawberry that Mat had cheekily fed you, trying to be romantic and cute and a cracker here and there that you hated yourself for. Other than that, water had been your only substance, and you'd assured him you'd already eaten whenever you came over to his place and he offered food. Were you hungry? Absolutely. But you were waiting desperately to see those numbers drop on the scale, and you weren't about to sabotage your mission. You’d keep telling yourself you’re not hungry.

But you didn't want Mat, precious Mat, to worry about your stupid insecurities, so you simply shook your head and forced a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"You're acting weird." You shrugged and looked back to the movie on the screen, trying to let the conversation fall dead. But Mat knew you too well. "Hey." Mat's thumb rubbed circles against the skin of your wrist. "Look at me, seriously. You've barely eaten tonight."

"I'm just not hungry."

"This is your favorite."

"I'll save it for later."

"Actually…" Mat's eyebrows furrowed. He stayed silent for a few moments in thought, his hand squeezing yours gently. "I don't think I've seen you eat at all today. You turned down my offer to make breakfast this morning. I know I'm bad at cooking, and all I can do right is the eggs, but you still never turn it down. We always end up cooking breakfast together on days you sleep over here. We always do." Your heart started to break. He could see through your facade, he could see and he probably hated it.

"Sorry." You choked out the word in a stupid, sputtering sob. You didn't realize the tears were coming until it was too late.

"Oh, hey, no no no no." Suddenly, the movie was paused and the food was forgotten as Mat pulled the sobbing, shaking mess that was you into his arms. “I didn’t want you to cry, baby. I don’t mind that we didn’t make breakfast together.” He held you, his eyes watching you gently and softly, his lips grazing your forehead in a delicate kiss. "C'mon, hold onto me, babe."

Your arms curled tight around his waist and clung on for dear life, sobbing into his chest.

"Please, baby. Let it out."

You cried into his shirt, breathing in the scent of his day-old cologne, a light, crisp and clean scent that clung to the side of his neck. You were surrounded by his aura, the comforting scent of him, his big, strong arms wrapping you in a little shield and protecting you from any of the mean comments that were plaguing your mind, that he didn't even know about.

"Please tell me what's wrong, baby. I can't stand seeing you cry."

“I, I don’t…”

He waited a few moments. “Don’t know what's wrong? Or don’t know how to describe it?” When you still didn’t respond, he continued to pepper kisses on your head. “Take your time.”

You stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding onto him and losing yourself in your thoughts again. What would he think when you told him how you were feeling? What would he do when you told him you looked through his followers on Instagram, that you found pictures of him with his exes? He would think you’re insane, insecure, jealous. He’d freak out, you had no right to go through his Instagram, did you? What would he do when you told him you hadn’t eaten in days? You didn’t want to tell him any of it, but you knew he wouldn’t let this go. Mat was persistent, and there was no way you’re getting out of this one.

“Mat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I… I have a problem.”

“Okay, we’ll work it out together, alright? Just let me know what’s up.”

You uncurled your arms from around him and instead focused on playing with the hem of his shirt, running the fabric through your fingers and focusing on that while gathering your thoughts. “I feel like… like, you could go for someone better than me.”

“What? No-”

“You’re like… so hot and fit and I’m… just fat. Don’t you wish I looked as skinny and perfect as your exes?”

“What?” There was a hint of anger in Mat’s voice, and you flinched at the way he scowled. He noticed, quickly, and settled back down. He knew you needed comfort, and even if he was upset that you'd even think that, your needs came first, and you needed softness. More gently this time, he asked “What? Baby, you’re joking, right?” His eyes bore down into yours, gentle, begging you to answer him. “How’d my exes get involved in this?”

“That post we made on Instagram, it got a lot of… upset comments. A lot of people don’t think I deserve you. Your ex commented. I saw the pictures of you two kissing, being all cute and couple-y.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry. I- I thought she would delete those by now.”

“No, I’m not upset about that, we both have exes, I just… she’s so… perfect, she looks like a model, and I saw that you still follow her. You follow a lot of models. Do you wish I looked like them?”

Now, Mat’s eyes went frantic and worried. “No, no, no, babe. You're gorgeous, you're perfect, don't listen to them. I- I genuinely forgot I was following any of them. I’m not on Instagram a lot anymore, not enough to scroll through all those posts. I’ll unfollow and block all those girls, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want to make you feel like that."

"No. You don't need to. I don't want to control who you follow just cause I'm a little insecure."

"No, I swear, baby. I should've unfollowed her- all of them- months ago. The only girl I need is you. You are so, so amazing. I don’t ever want you to think I want you to change anything about yourself. You’re perfect." He pressed tender kisses to your wet cheeks, his arms tight around you. Then, as if he was worried about what the answer might be, he asked hesitantly “Is that why you haven’t been eating tonight? You think I want you to lose weight?” You said nothing still, but nodded, your face pressed against his chest. “(Y/N), I don't want that. I would never tell you to change anything about yourself. Especially not your weight… are you kidding me? Your weight should be the least of your worries. A fucking number on a scale doesn't define you, baby. No matter how much your weight changes, whether you gain or lose 50 pounds, your worth will still be the same.. and that worth… it's through the roof, babe. You're priceless."

“Stop…” You smiled against him, overwhelmed with his compliments. Part of you was convinced now that maybe you were overreacting over it.

“No, I won’t stop.” He pressed his lips against your cheeks, over and over again, something he always did to cheer you up. "You know what the first thing I thought was, when I finally saw you naked for the first time? The first thing I thought was 'oh fuck that's hot, I can't wait to wreck this sweet pussy.'"

“Mathew!” You cracked a smile and playfully smacked his arm. Of course, even when comforting you, he was still himself.

"Kidding! Kidding! Okay, it was more along the lines of 'I can't believe I have such a beautiful girlfriend…. I can't believe she puts up with my shit, I can't believe she chose me, cause she's hot as fuck, and amazing as fuck." You hid your face in Mat’s chest, sniffing back the tears. "Hey, look, you're smiling because you know how hot you are, come on. I love your smile.” He continued to hold you, squeezing you against him and willing to sit there like that as long as you needed. Suddenly, he remembered the food sitting on the coffee table, and with a slight bit of urgency, he motioned to it. "So that’s the reason you haven’t eaten today?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He hesitated as if he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer you were going to give him. “Okay… When was the last time you ate? Like, ate for real?”

“I- I don’t know exactly.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe a few days ago…”

“What?" He looked shocked, cupping your face between his hands and looking at you with the most serious expression you’d seen on him in a while. “Are you actually serious? No, no, no, (Y/N). ”

“Sorry, I was just… I was telling myself that maybe I’d lose weight if I didn’t-”

“Well, no more of that, okay? Listen, I promised you I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, and that includes you hurting yourself, baby. That's not allowed. Not at all. Ever."

“Okay.”

Mat moved you out of his lap and back onto the floor beside him, his eyebrows scrunched into a scowl and his eyes gentle and worried. “What would you think if I decided I’m not good enough? And if I stopped eating so that I looked good enough for you? What would you think?”

“That’s dumb, Mat. You’re perfect.”

“Exactly. So are you. That’s how I feel when you tell me you haven’t been eating. Would you want me to starve myself?”

“Of course not.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, realizing just how dumb your whole plan had been, emotional at the thought of putting Mat through whatever you were doing to yourself.

“So don’t do it to yourself, baby. You want to treat me the best, treat yourself just as amazing, okay? We’re gonna come to a compromise, alright? Listen.” He put his fingers on your chin and tilted your face up to look at him, teary eyes and all. “Listening, babe? Here’s how it’s gonna go. Whatever you eat, I eat. If you eat nothing, I eat nothing. If you actually take care of yourself and eat, you take care of me too.”

The sudden realization of how much your actions were affecting not only you, but your boyfriend too, was making you emotional again, and you nodded quickly. “Okay.”

"Pinky promise?" He reached out his pinky for you and, with a smile, you linked yours to it.

"I promise."

Mat smiled and brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it before settling it against his crew-neck cozy chest. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t want you to look or be like any other girl. I want you to be you. Because I love you.”

“I love you too, Mat. Thank you. I’m sorry for getting all insecure and stuff.”

“Nope, nope, don’t apologize for this. Don’t ever hide something like this from me. We’ll work through everything together, okay?” You nodded again, and Mat finally gave you his beautiful smile. “So, (Y/N), am I gonna get to eat tonight? Are we gonna eat?” You glanced back at the food on your plate and realized just how much you’d been missing out on in the past few days. You realized just how prominent the grumbling in your tummy was, just how hungry you were. Mat had gone out of his way to bring your favorite foods over, to cuddle you and laugh with you and watch movies, and you were here worrying about what his exes thought of you when he was right here showing you just how much he loved you.

“I’m so hungry, Mat.”

He smiled, loading his fork with your favorite food and lifting it to your lips. “Alright! Let’s dig in, baby!”

[extasiswings]

Get in, clowns.  We’re going to the circus.  On ao3.

Eddie’s palms are sweaty.

It’s warm outside, the sun beating down on the park bench where he’s sitting, but it’s the nerves that have his hands clammy as he turns his water bottle over between them.  

When Buck had walked in the house earlier, he’d taken one look at Eddie and rolled his eyes before shoving him back into his bedroom.

“You can’t wear that,” Buck said, rifling through Eddie’s dresser.  He emerged with Eddie’s tightest pair of jeans and shoved them at his chest before turning to the drawers with shirts.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Eddie asked, baffled as he looked down at himself and then, skeptically, at the jeans.

“You look like a dad.”  Buck’s voice went muffled for a moment before he made a noise of victory and pulled out a deep red, long-sleeved shirt that Eddie’s pretty sure is at least a size too small. 

“Kind of hard not to.  Since I am one and all.  That’s not exactly a secret.”

“Yeah, but you can look like a hot dad who is making an effort instead of a regular dad going to the grocery store or something.  You’ll thank me later.”  

After Eddie had changed and walked out of the bathroom, Buck’s face shifted—Eddie could have sworn his eyes darkened, that his voice was rougher as he pronounced Eddie much better.

So Eddie knows he looks good.

But his palms are still sweaty.  He uncaps the water bottle and takes a sip more to have something to do than because he needs it.  And then he starts drumming his fingers against his thigh, needing something to occupy them, some way to move.  

He’s tempted to pull out his phone, to reread the latest texts from Bobby or even the shameless teasing in the group text that Buck started with his sisters—and boy, was that a mistake, putting the three of them in touch, because Eddie never in a million years would have told them he was going on a date if he hadn’t done it by accident because Buck’s direct messages happened to be right below the group—

He’s still not sure he should be, is the thing.  Dating.  He still feels like he can’t quite breathe right when he thinks too hard about it.  Can still play that last dinner with Shannon over on loop, from her asking for a divorce to the implication that really being with him again would be so terrible she would have to run for the hills and leave their child behind.

He didn’t exactly have great self-esteem to begin with.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans—he’s in the middle of debating whether it’s bad parenting to make up an emergency involving your kid to get out of a date, when—

“Eddie!  Hi,” Ana greets, walking up the path.  

The anxiety in his chest twists tighter as he gets up from the bench and waves.

“Hey.  You, uh—you look really nice,” he says, because it’s true and also the easiest thing he can remember from the last time he did this.  

Ana smiles.  “So do you.”

There’s a pause that lingers a little too long and then they both start trying to speak at once, cutting off abruptly when they realize.  Eddie rubs self-consciously at the back of his neck.

“Should we walk?” Ana offers, nodding down the path where it leads into the trees.

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie agrees.  

It’s actually not...bad.  She asks him about work and that’s a safe enough topic that he’s comfortable spending a few minutes telling her stories from the station.  She shares a little about the challenges of virtual teaching.  And then she asks about Chris, and, well, that’s an easy subject—Eddie could talk about Chris all day.  

He just finishes the story about the actual building of Christopher’s skateboard—which involved no small amount of comical trial and error on the part of two decidedly not Chris-sized grown men—when Ana gets a thoughtful look on her face and glances sideways at him.

“Can I ask you something personal?”  She asks.

Eddie rocks back on his heels and hooks his thumbs in his pockets.  “Sure.”

“How long has it been for you?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Since...the last time I dated?”

Ana nods.

“Well…” He wets his lips to stall.  “The last person I dated was my wife.  And I’m not sure it was really dating in the same way after we were married so...I guess...eleven years give or take?”

He laughs and he can hear the edge of self-deprecation.  “That obvious I’m out of practice?”

“No,” Ana says.  “No, that wasn’t—it’s really not actually. Although it does explain some things.”

“Things?”

She bites her lip.  “Nothing bad,” she insists.  “Just—”

“Have you ever been on a date where the other person talked about their ex the whole time and it was kind of obvious they still had feelings for them and you couldn’t help wondering why they weren’t with the ex when they clearly wanted to be?”  She asks.

Eddie blinks, scrolling back through their conversation trying to think—he’s pretty sure he hasn’t mentioned Shannon except for the once.  And he’s not still—

“In high school, maybe?” He answers.  “But I’m not sure—”

“I was trying to figure out if you and Buck ever dated,” she clarifies, and Eddie stops in his tracks, his mind shorting out as he takes that in.

“I—what?”

They’re back at the parking lot anyway, and although they could take another loop around the park, Ana stops by the closest bench and smiles as she leans against it.

“Look, I like you, Eddie,” she says.  “And if I’m totally off base and you want to see me again, I will definitely pick up the phone.  But if I’m not?  I couldn’t not say something.”

“Buck’s my best friend,” Eddie replies.  His head is swimming but it surprisingly doesn’t feel bad.  More like he’s been handed the clue card for a puzzle he was trying to solve and while the pieces haven’t quite come together fully, they’re getting there.

“You talk about him like he’s your partner.  Like the three of you are a family.  And when you talk about him you look like…”  Ana shakes her head and laughs, but it’s not unkind.  Just soft and maybe a little longing.  “I would love for someone to look like that when they’re talking about me.  Thinking about me.  So, I thought you should know.  Just in case you didn’t.”

Another puzzle piece falls into place and Eddie sucks in a breath.

“I do like you,” he says.

“Yeah...but you’re in love with him.  Right?”  Eddie’s quiet and Ana nods.

“I’m gonna go,” she decides.  “This was nice, for the record.  Maybe we can do it again.  As friends next time.”

“Ana—” Eddie calls after her.  When she looks back over her shoulder though, he’s not sure what to say except, “...thank you.”

“Let me know how it works out?” She asks.  “I’m a little invested now.”

Eddie laughs and runs a hand through his hair.  “Yeah...sure.”  

He drives home in a daze, so much of the past two years—maybe even longer—suddenly thrown into new light.  Everything he’s been afraid of, everything that’s been holding him back—all of the baggage and insecurities that Shannon left behind, that have made him feel like he’s not good enough, like he can’t be a partner to anyone—

He never stopped and looked too hard at what he already had.  What he was already doing.

What he has.  What he is doing.   

With Buck.

In the stark glare of hindsight, it’s easy to see—he was still married when they met, was worn down and bruised and not looking for anything.  He needed a friend and Buck slipped in to fill that void and Eddie...put him in a box.  Put them in a box.  Carefully compartmentalizing every aspect of his life because it was easier that way, because it allowed him to sort through the tangled knots of expectation from any number of other sides, any number of other identities—husband, father, son.

There was no baggage attached to friend.  No forgive and forget and take your wife back because kids need their mothers or you’ll drag him down with you or I wasn’t enough.

There was just...Buck.  Present.  Supportive.  Caring about him.  Believing in him.   The real him—masks off, walls down, warts and all.   

The longer Eddie thinks, the clearer things become.  His mind flips through memories like a scrapbook—panic attacks and phone calls at two in the morning, nights on the couch playing video games with Christopher and the slower, lingering moments with just the two of them after they put him to bed, all those months sharing a bed in Buck’s apartment while he despaired over being away from his son and Buck reminded him he was a good dad—

How many of those nights had Eddie wanted to kiss him?  How many times had he felt that buzz under his skin, the whisper of it would be so easy, only to shove it down because it was too dangerous to deal with.  

And when he thinks now about the future, about having someone in his home, in his bed, in his life, when he pictures it, all he can see is Buck.

It feels right.

“I love him,” Eddie says out loud, tasting the words on his tongue, letting them linger.

I love him.

His pulse spikes with his anxiety, but it calms down as he sits with it.  Because he knows Buck’s not going to leave.  He trusts that.  Buck’s seen him at his worst and none of that has ever driven him away.  So maybe…

Eddie’s mind flicks back to earlier in the day, to the dark heat in Buck’s gaze as it dragged over him before he looked away.

...yeah.  They’ll be okay.

He’s home before he even really registers and takes a few slow breaths before he shuts off the truck and gets out.  When he steps through the door, it’s a strange feeling.  The space is familiar but not.  More...settled somehow.  Home.

Home.

Eddie closes the door behind him and follows the sound of running water to the kitchen.  He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him.

“Hey,” Buck greets.  “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner.  How was the date?”

God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself.

Yeah.  It’s right.

He shrugs.  “It was fine.  Ana’s nice.”

“When’s the next date then?”  There’s an odd note in Buck’s voice that makes Eddie push off the frame and step closer. 

“There’s not going to be one,” he replies.  “Ana’s nice...but I don’t want to date her.”

Buck stops.  Shuts off the water and turns, leaning back against the sink.

“No?”  Buck’s brow furrows.  “It’s not��do you still feel like you’re not ready?”

“No, it’s not that,” Eddie replies.  “I do think I’m ready.  But with the right person.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, but it’s not fear.  More...anticipation.  

He swallows hard.

“Ana said something that made me realize that...I don’t want to start from scratch with some stranger.”

Eddie takes another step closer and Buck inhales sharply, emotions shifting across his face too quickly for Eddie to name them all.

“Eddie…”  Buck sounds hoarse, a little disbelieving.  He leans forward for a moment before shaking his head, clearing his throat.

“I can’t—I need you to be specific,” he says.  “Because I can’t make assumptions here, I can’t—”

Eddie kisses him.  Steps in far enough that Buck’s body presses flush against his, slides his hand around the back of Buck’s neck, and kisses him.  Buck makes a small noise and grips him right back, his hands curving around Eddie’s hips nearly tight enough to bruise in sharp contrast to the way Eddie’s mouth feathers against his, soft as anything.  

“Specific enough?”  Eddie breathes, staying close enough that their lips brush again.  Buck surges up and uses his grip on Eddie’s hips to turn them, pinning Eddie against the counter as he kisses him again in response.  Once, twice, three times, and Eddie shivers.  

He hasn’t been kissed in so long, hasn’t been touched with intention like this—he’d forgotten what it felt like.  His body floods with heat as Buck’s hands slip under his shirt, spreading wide over his rib cage, and he parts his lips eagerly for Buck’s tongue.

Down the hall, a door closes, and Buck jumps back, Eddie slumping against the counter to keep himself upright.  Buck is flushed and panting and Eddie’s pretty sure he can’t look much better, too warm and electric, wanting, wanting, wanting—

Both of them catch their breath and watch the door, but Christopher doesn’t appear.  After a minute Eddie catches the faint sound of a toilet flushing and he looks back at Buck.  

And he laughs.  It bubbles up from his chest like champagne fizz, bright and warm and right, and apparently it’s contagious because Buck starts up as well, stepping in again and sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist, ducking his head to laugh breathlessly against Eddie’s neck.

When they calm down, Buck stays close, his lips feathering over Eddie’s pulse.  Eddie hums and closes his eyes as he tips his head back to give Buck better access.  

“I’m in love with you,” he says.  “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Buck’s lips curve up against Eddie’s skin.

“Well that’s convenient,” he replies.  “Since Chris was asking me earlier why you couldn’t just date me if you were going to date again.”

Eddie’s startled into another laugh.  “Really?”

“Really.”

Eddie grins and opens his eyes again.  “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Go out with me?”

Buck snorts and pushes him out of the way so he can go back to the potatoes.  

“Help me finish getting dinner together and we’ll see.”  But the second Eddie turns away, Buck snags him by a belt loop and reels him back in for another kiss.

“Yes,” Buck says.  “Yes.”

And it’s right.           

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Fourteen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

Waking up is painful. Physically painful, at least. You’re not ready to deal with the emotional pain from yesterday, no thank you.

You finally peel your eyes open, a true struggle considering how they were crusted together. You take in your surroundings and form the first coherent thought of the day.

This isn’t my bedroom.

Your eyes seem to be crusted shut. You sit up and realize that no, this is not your apartment, this is Osamu’s apartment. This is his bed you’re currently sitting up from, his blankets wrapped around you.

You then form your second coherent thought of the day.

His detergent smells really nice.

That thought finishes in your head before it’s slammed aside by the rush of yesterday’s memories - group therapy with your friends and Osamu, Oikawa being a complete dick to Osamu, your argument with Oikawa which resulted in Oikawa blabbing of your love for Hajime, leaving the restaurant crying, realizing you lost your keys but they’re at Osamu’s apartment, walking to Osamu’s crying…

From there it’s a bit murkier as your memories intertwined with self-deprecating thoughts and a line of thinking you rarely walk down anymore.

Last night was a night.

You do somewhat remember Osamu comforting you. Letting you know that it was okay and he was there for you.

You glance around the studio apartment, wondering where he was. Oh god, did you force him out good lord you are -

Oh, no he’s sitting on his couch with a cup of coffee.

You’re filled with guilt when you realize you monopolized his bed and completely took over his apartment. Yeah, he maybe didn’t need to sleep last night (a concept you still don’t fully understand nor approve of) but you have fully overstayed your welcome.

Grabbing your phone from the side table you tap the screen, taking in the notifications on your screen.

Shit, I never messaged Makki or Mattsun.

Your gut feels like lead as you open the group chat with the two. That was a big fuck up on your end.

Fuck, I’m such a shitty friend.

You don’t waste anytime typing out a message.

“Tea?”

You look up from your phone and are greeted with Osamu’s sleepy gaze, a mug of tea held in his hand for you. You reach for the mug, nodding slowly.

“How’re yer feel in’ this morning?” He asks as you take a sip. You shrug in response

“I’m okay. I’m sorry I just fell apart like that on you.” You say. “I wasn’t having a great night, and my emotions just kind of bled all over the place. And I’m sorry that I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, that was actually pretty funny.” Osamu smiles. “Ya just kinda passed out on my shoulder. I had to lift ya to get ya onto the bed.”

You blink, absolutely mortified. “Oh wow, I am so sorry. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah, it was cute.” Osamu takes a casual sip from his mug, seemingly oblivious to the flirty line he just dropped. “But ya seemed pretty upset last night, and i wasn’t gonna let ya walk home like that.” The smile drops from his face and he looks at you with concern. “If ya wanna talk about it ya can, although I don’t want to push ya. It’d be pretty dumb of me to.

“I know I’ve been pretty skeptical about openin’ up and talkin’ ‘bout my feelings, but since meetin’ ya I’ve felt better. Lighter, I guess.” He shrugs. “Ya’ve made me realize how important it is to open up.”

You look down at your tea, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your heart warms at Osamu’s words, part of you preening that you were the one who has helped Osamu, but also you feel genuine relief that Osamu wants to open up more.

“Well, let me treat you to breakfast this morning - it’s the least I can do.” You finish your tea and give Osamu a small smile. “I can tell you about yesterday if you don’t mind listening.”

Osamu smiles in return. “Sure, let me grab my stuff.” He takes the mug from your hand and shuffles into the kitchen. You sit up, stretching your arms and grabbing your phone. A few more messages have come through from Mattsun and Makki.

Uhhhhh…….

You open up your chat with Oikawa, finding hundreds of messages from him. He hasn’t sent you anything since 5am. You quickly navigate back to the chat with your other friends.

Frantic knocks, one after another, beat against Osamu’s door.

No way.

Osamu gives you a look before walking to the front door. He checks the paper hole, then turns back and looks at you with faint amusement.

“It’s for ya.��

You stand from the bed, moving into the kitchen. Regretfully, you open the door.

A distressed-looking Oikawa is the surprise visitor. He looks absolutely beside himself - his eyes are bloodshot and swollen, snot is dripping out of his nose, and his hair is messy and lackluster.

Oh dear god.

He bursts into tears when he sees you, but surprisingly doesn’t throw himself at you. He must be learning some boundaries. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N-chan! I was being stupid and petty and I didn’t mean to-”

“Ok, ok c’mon. You’re going to wake up Osamu’s neighbors.” You bring the snivelling, pathetic Oikawa inside, quickly closing the door behind him. You help him get his shoes off, glancing around the Osamu. You spot him at the sink, filling a glass with water. He brings it over, giving Oikawa a nod and silently passing the water to him.

“Thank you Osamu-kun.” Oikawa gratefully takes the water and downs it before handing the empty glass back to an amused Osamu. “I plan on giving you a full apology soon, I promise.”

Osamu huffs a laugh and goes back into the kitchen. He sets the glass in the sink as you lead Oikawa through and into the living room.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper to Osamu. “Do you want me to go?”

“Nah,” Osamu waves his hand. “I’ll get ready for breakfast in the bathroom, and give you guys some space.”

“Thank you, I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Take yer time.” Osamu smiles at you and moves to the bathroom. You turn back to Oikawa, who is watching you with regret painting all over his face.

“I’m sorry I told Makki and Mattsun that you love Hajime.” Oikawa blurts without any bite.

You think you see Osamu flinch out of the corner of your eye but when you look his way you see the bathroom door closing. You look back to Oikawa and sigh.

“Why did you say it then?”

Oikawa heaves a sigh and hangs his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to make you not hate me.”

“Oikawa, I don’t hate you.” You join him on the couch, leaning into his side. “Talk to me.”

Oikawa presses back to you and you feel his shoulders move up and down as he takes another deep breath. “I knew that uni classes and volleyball would be really really hard - but as long as we all had each other we would be fine. We smashed through high school together, so this was just another challenge.

“But when Iwa-chan died it changed everything. Obviously.” Oikawa takes a shaky breath. “But I still had you, Mattsun and Makki. I knew that we wouldn’t be the same without Iwa-chan, and classes and volleyball would be hard, but we would be friends.

“I don’t think I knew how hard everything would be. My classes suck, volleyball is a chore, and I miss Iwa-chan.” He sniffles. “I miss him so much. I feel like I don’t know who I am without him. But I had you guys, I always had my friends.

“But Mattsun and Makki are in their own world sometimes, and then you started hanging out with Osamu.” He looks at you, tears shining in his brown eyes. “I know it makes me sound like you can’t have other friends beside me, and I really don’t want to be selfish. But you were spending more time with Osamu and it hit me that you were all growing up and becoming different people.” A few tears track down his face and he sniffs. “I don’t want anything to change, I don’t want Iwa-chan to be dead, I don’t want to be a terrible person.”

Oikawa starts to cry and you don’t hesitate in pulling him into a side hug. He’s not really sobbing but you feel his pain deep in your heart. One of your hands comes up to card gently through his hair.

“I know I’ve been a piece of shit the last few months. And I can tell that you really like Osamu, even though you’ve always loved Iwa-chan. Whenever you talked about him you had this happy and bright look on your face. He makes you feel good, but you love Iwa-chan. You moving on meant change, and I hated that.” Oikawa sniffs. “But bringing Osamu to the group therapy session, which I always thought was our group’s thing, made me realize that you were changing. I was so angry, and your secret just slipped out.”

He takes a watery breath. “Isn’t it awful? I’ve been trying to drag you back down to my level, bring you back down to feel the pain that I feel, all because I’m scared. I’m a terrible, awful friend.”

“Oikawa, have you had time to go to your therapy appointments?” You ask gently.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he gives the tiniest shake of his head you sigh.

“Honey,” you scold gently. “Why are you not going?”

“School and volleyball have taken up a lot of my time.” Oikawa mumbles, his sentence punctuated with another sniffle. “I’ve skipped so many appointments, and I’m too embarrassed to call.”

You sigh, inwardly shaking your head at your friend’s weak excuse. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but maybe re-prioritize your responsibilities. Getting back on track with your therapy appointments should take top priority. You can talk through these feelings instead of letting them fester.”

Oikawa doesn’t answer right away, but when he does his voice is small. “But I’d probably have to quit volleyball, and that’s all I have left of Iwa-chan.” You see his hands ball into fists. “I don’t want to lose that.” His breath hitches. “I don’t know what to do.”

You let him cry on your shoulder, giving him the time to get all the tears out. You figure this is the most civil conversation you’ve had since Hajime died. The thought brings you relief but also makes you quite sad.

“You know you’re one of my best friends, right Oikawa?” You ask once he’s calmed down a bit. “You’re a diva and a trainwreck, but you’re my diva and my trainwreck.” He exhales lightly but you’re almost certain it’s in amusement. “No matter what, I’m always going to want the best for you, and I’m always gonna try my best to help you.

“But,” you feel him tense up when you continue. “You have to realize that your behavior the past few months has been really shitty. You’ve treated us all like punching bags - we get it, probably more than a lot of people could. But I’m not gonna let you treat me, or any of our friends, like it anymore.”

“I’ll be good.” Oikawa promises immediately. “I promise, I’ll do better for you and Makki and Mattsun. And me.”

“Good.” You give him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night in the restaurant.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all.” He replies immediately. He yawns before speaking again. “Honestly, I’ve been a piece of shit for months now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You murur. You both sit on the couch for a while longer as you try to come down from the conversation you just had. You feel like a heavy cloud that’s been floating around your head for months has cleared, and although you know Oikawa won’t magically change overnight you feel better knowing that you’ve had this hard conversation with him. Change starts with communication, and hopefully Oikawa understands now that he has the support to change.

You feel Oikawa leaning against you even further and you look at his face to see his eyes closed and mouth parted open.

“Oikawa, c’mon I don’t want you falling asleep.” You gently push him off you so you can stand and get Oikawa to stand also. His eyes are still closed and he puts nearly all of his body weight onto you.

He must not have slept all night, you think. It’s not uncommon for him to pull all nighters, a habit he picked up in high school watching game tape over and over until the sun came up. But he handles the lack of sleep gracelessly - you could prop him against a door jamb and he’d pass out no problem.

Together you move towards the front door. You’re not going to let him fall asleep here and inconvenience Osamu even more - you’ll take him back to your apartment and maybe try to catch lunch with Osamu. Now you owe him a few meals and unlimited coffee.

“Gotta apologize to Osamu-kun,” Oikawa mumbles when you lean him against the wall.

“Maybe when you’re going to fall asleep standing up, yeah?” You reply, bending down to shove his feet back in his shoes. You hear more mumblings in return but can’t make anything out of them.

As you’re getting your shoes on you hear the bathroom door open and out walks Osamu. He’s dressed and his face is composed into it’s usual blankness. Trusting that Oikawa won’t keel over, you walk over to where Osamu is reaching into his dresser for socks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I have to reschedule breakfast, I have to make sure this idiot won’t sleepwalk into traffic.”

“S’alright. Didja work everything out?” Osamu asks in a measured tone.

“I think so.” Osamu’s not looking at you as he puts on his socks. Your gut twinges with guilt, realizing that he must be upset that you have to cancel breakfast. “But I think I’m gonna take him to my apartment and make sure he sleeps. Do you want to meet up for lunch or something?”

“Can’t.” His short answer makes you blink. “Meetin’ a group on campus for a class project.”

“Oh.” He’s still not meeting your gaze, and you detect a hint of gruffness in his tone. Maybe he’s upset that he has to meet with his group last minute? Or because you basically shoved him into his bathroom while you and Oikawa worked out your issues. “Dinner then? I owe you double now.”

“Probably not.” Osamu stands and gathers a few books and a notebook before shoving them into his backpack. His inability to look at you or hold a full conversation is confusing, but you don’t want to push him.

“Well let’s meet at the coffee shop tomorrow, usual time after morning classes. Sounds good?”

He hums distractedly. Your gut feels heavier and you swallow hard.

“Okay, well I’ll be off now.”

Osamu turns towards you but still doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’ll walk ya out.”

You both make the short walk to the front door. The tension in the room is heavy, unable to lighten even at the sight of Oikawa sleeping standing up. You maneuver your friend while Osamu opens the door for you. It’s a slight struggle walking out of the front door but you manage.

You look back before Osamu can close the door behind you. He’s holding the door knob and staring at the ground. “Let me know if you can do dinner tonight - if not I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You force as much cheeriness into your voice, despite the heavy weight in your chest. Finally Osamu looks at you, giving you a disinterested nod.

He closes the door as you turn to walk away. You look back quickly, catching a crestfallen look on Osamu’s face before the door fully closes.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: So when I originally thought about this story, I wanted to think about how different people deal with grief. And what I wanted to explore was 1.) is there a limit to how people will grieve? And 2.) can someone grieving push that limit? From the get-go Oikawa has seemingly pushed the limit of what some of you believed, and yet Y/N was still hesitant to call him out. And I loved hearing what everyone had to say about Oikawa - some were willing to give him a pass, and some were NOT happy with him. Now, just because someone is grieving, it does NOT give them a free pass to behave inappropriately or do serious harm to those around them. But I think it’s important to note that what may seem absolutely insane to one person is tolerable to another. And what it comes down to is how the person who is directly affected by another’s actions wants to address those actions (sorry if this is confusing.) Oikawa was treating Y/N and their friends like shit. In the story it was because Oikawa was not taking the necessary actions to keep himself mentally healthy. In Y/N’s eyes, if there is a desire to be better, and appropriate actions are taken to be better, then Oikawa deserves to be forgiven. I have absolutely LOVED reading everyone’s reactions and hearing their opinions on Oikawa’s slowly deteriorating behavior, thank you for sending them in! And just because how Y/N has reacted to Oikawa’s behavior it does not mean there is a right/wrong way! Everyone has different life experiences and different relationships that guide their decision-making! And that’s totally okay! (This obviously applies to non-threatening and morally & ethically right behavior.) And WOOF thank you for getting this far in the A/N’s, this was a LOT! Gold stars for everyone!! 🌟🌟🌟

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 25

TW: Brief smut

Words Count: 1.3k (quite a short update sorry in advance 🥺)

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 26

And about a month had passed ever since that intimate incident with Jimin.

Through all tips and tricks, you’ve persuaded and convinced him enough that he now sleeps on the same bed with you again. And everything is good with your husband. Although he still has his cold demeanor sometimes, he’s very caring, soft and attentive to you a lot of times.

It’s good, it’s all good, really and you couldn’t ask for more. Except that he has never touched you more than necessary after that incident.

You don’t really think much about it until one day, you wake up feeling... horny. All your hormones seems to be heightened and all of a sudden, every act that Jimin does makes you blush a bit too much, your breath hitching and your body feeling hot. And it definitely doesn’t help that your husband’s body is carved like the Greek God himself, every nook and corner of his body, his entire being screaming sex.

He does gives you all the hugs, the cuddling and the kisses but you want more. You’ve been throwing hints at him, your tricks going more and more shameless by the day, and all of them would just end up with him shaking his head as he smiles down at you.

It’s all just so frustrating.

Every time he kisses you, you’d try to deepen it and maybe purposely roll your hips against him but every single time, he would pull away and makes up whatever excuse he might have.

You try, like for God damn really try, to make him touch you. You’d wear the skimpiest night gown, sometimes not even bothering to wear underwear too and then comes to his study and purposely sits on his lap, and then when he kisses you, you try to guide his hand down. You’re literally a definition of desperate now.

But. He. Just. Won’t.

You wonder if he’s secretly a priest, seeing how he’s practicing his abstinence so good.

You groan to yourself, feeling as you grow more and more sexually frustrated. And annoyance towards your husband.

Having too much time at hand as your husband still doesn’t allow you to work, means a lot of time for you to wallow in self deprecation as well. And by Jimin’s behaviour, you wonder if he’s losing interest in you.

But you’re also sure that’s not the case. He proves it all when sometimes he’d come home and immediately looks for you and doesn’t say anything but just pulls you into a passionate kiss (which obviously doesn’t escalate further than that), or the way you don’t miss his eyes turning dark when you’re wearing your satin nightwear, or his early morning erection when he wakes with you on top of him, your core might’ve purposely been aligned against his crotch perfectly.

It’s been two months since you’ve been discharged from the hospital, almost four months since you’ve been shot. You are perfectly fine and fit as a fiddle now. And yet he still sees you as a glass.

Sometimes you don’t even bother to hide your annoyance when any of your sensual act doesn’t result in the response that you want from him. You know he knows what you want. Perhaps he’s finding amusement in making you sexually frustrated seeing as his eyes would twinkle in amusement when you’d stomp your feet as you exit his study, like a petulant child.

Until one day you can no longer hold it in. And you’ve got the perfect plan devised in your head to get what you want.

You’re in the kitchen, just finished setting the table for dinner when your husband walks in, fresh out of the shower. Several strands of his hair still wet and you almost gulp at the sight of him. Sometimes you think it’s unfair how he’s just in his pyjamas but still looking like a whole course meal.

“There’s something I have to say.” You say once you finished eating. He looks up at you, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve fully recovered now.. and I want to work again.”

He narrows his eyes at you before saying a firm, “No.”

You feel your entire body wilting already. “Jimin please.. I’ve been stuck at home for months now.. Please..?”

“Why are you so keen on getting back at the company? The last time you were there, you got harassed for fuck’s sake. I’m not letting that happen again.” He snaps.

“That was different..” he shoots a glare at you and you look down immediately. “Why’re you being unreasonable.. I just want to work..”

“The answer is no. Fullstop.” He says before raising to stand and storming out the dining room and you sigh in defeat.

You have a plan devised in your head but Jimin being the stubborn himself, is gonna be an obstacle. You shake your head. He’s being ridiculous now. He even dares to bring up your past with Kim Minhyuk.

It really was different back then. But now.. now you have your husband. A husband that loves you. Surely he’s gonna protect you right?

Nevermind then. You’ve another trick up your sleeves. You smile wickedly as you pick up the phone and search for the Human Resources head at Bangtan Inc.’s cellphone number.

You’re still annoyed with your husband when you ready yourself to sleep that night. You’ve just laid yourself on the bed when you hear the bedrooms’ door open but you don’t turn around, still lying on your side.

The bed dips behind you and suddenly you feel arms snaking around your waist, hot breath against the back of your hair, making the hairs on your skin to stand.

“Y/N..?” You hear him say.

You almost want to curse when his voice and his mere touch already makes you feel hot and bothered. Yeah, you really need to get laid. You clear your throat. “Yes?”

He kisses behind your neck and then your ear, almost making a moan to escape your lips. “Are you mad at me?”

You shut your eyes for a moment, relishing in his touch. Touch me more... “You know I have the right to, right?”

His hands run up and down your arms, soothing the goosebumps there and then he gingerly kisses your cheek. “Don’t be..” he coaxes.

You then turn your head slightly, eyes meeting his. You take his lips then. In a relaxed but slightly hungry manner. When you try to deepen it, he pulls back like he’d been doing the past few months. You huff in annoyance before you turn your body completely and then swiftly push Jimin’s shoulder and straddle him.

You see his look of surprise for a few seconds before you lean in to kiss him again, this time intensely. You’re keen to let him know your intention. You’re sitting on his thigh now and you shamelessly grind against him. Your fingers card his hair as you kiss him even harder, like you’re trying to get off just by kissing him and grinding his thigh. It’s almost embarrassing. And it’s all because your husband won’t make love to you.

Your hand starts to slide downwards, tracing his chest and his stomach, his muscles clearly felt although he’s still wearing his shirt. He hisses when your hand finally reaches down and grips his erection.

You break away from his kiss to slide down and trail open mouth, wet kisses on his neck. “So.. can I work tomorrow?”

At this, he suddenly opens his eyes, his hands gripping each side of your waist firmly, halting all your actions. His eyes narrow at you. “I already told you no.”

Suddenly all sorts of horny in you is gone. “But-”

He lets out a sigh in exasperation. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” And he swiftly lifts you off him and lay you back on your side of the bed before you could say anything. “I still have some work to do. You should go to sleep first.” He kisses the corner of your mouth and then he’s out of the bedroom.

You’ve never hated your husband so much.

Link to Chapter 26

Posted on 210614 9:00PM

[waywardimpalawriter]

“Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" with Javier and can I please have a happy ending, I know it's angst prompts but.... :D Thank you!

Crazy Love

Pairing: Javier Peña x Plus Size Female Reader

Characters: Javier Peña, Steve Murphy, mentions Connie Murphy

Setting: After season one episode 7 ‘You will cry tears of blood’, five months after the events in ‘Heels’,

Rating: M (Mature), E (Explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: mentions of gun violence, almost killing a child, self hatred, smut, unprotected sex, Angry Javier (yes he needs a warning), angst, slight fluff at the end,

Summary: One slip up, reacting too quickly he could’ve ended the life of one way too young to fight the wars of old men. Thoughts filled with darkness, what if’s and self degradation. Wanting to loose himself in the only way he knows. To find because of you he can brave the dawn and the coming war.

Word count: 5,985 (with lyrics)

Notes: Thank you so much for the request sweetie, @autumnleaves1991-blog I hope you enjoy. Prompt in bold. The song used is ‘Crazy Love’ written by Van Morrison and preformed by various artists. This also a sequel to “Heel’s part 1” written some months back.

Tag List:

Forever’s: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Knuckles white with the grip he’s got on the steer wheel, eyes darting between the thin packed streets and Murphy with the baby in his arms. “What about the kid? Any ideas where to take her?”

Missing the shrug, with his eyes back on the road, “For now I’ll take her with us.” Smirk twitching his dark blond mustache with the look Javier pins him with at a stop light. “Don’t worry Javi she ain’t gonna stay with you. Poor darlin can’t live on whiskey and cigarettes. Though the parade of women might slow with her at your apartment.”

“There’s no parade jackass,” trying to focus on the road ahead and off what almost occurred three hours ago.

Subtle tick to his jaw knowing something’s bothering his partner about what went down. More to the point of how it went to shit and letting two high ranking Sicario slip through their fingers. “Wanna spill what’s eaten at you?”

“No just take care of the kid don’t need you play shrink in my head,” pulling up to the embassy, Javier kills the engine turning fully to look at Steve. “Care to share your explanation to Noonan or will you wing it?”

Shrugging Steve glances down into her sleepy eyes trying to figure out just what he’ll say. More importantly what he’s going to tell Connie. “I’m not,” looking back over at Peña seeing a raised brow. “I’ll take her home to Connie, figure out this shit as we go.”

“I’m sure Y/N would babysit,” mentioning you name cut deeply as the last month he’s put distance between the two of you. Continuing the relationship based solely on your sexual needs instead of the feeling he keeps buried.

“Doubtful, she’s working on transferring out. Packing I’m sure takes her time up right now,” seeing the scowling confusion drawing his brows down. “You knew she asked for a transfer right?”

“When?” Curses fill his mind. Directed fully at himself for letting the situation spiral out of control to the point you’ve become that notch on his bed post. Telling himself he’s going to let you go but never finding the courage to actually cut the strings. “She never mentioned taking a transfer. ”

The nights spent together you never mentioned a transfer. But then words rarely left either of your lips that’s not in passionate pleas wanting more or demands for completion. Conversations the first to go in the crumbling relationship, embraces followed not long after and the final straw added a month and a half ago. No kisses on the mouth anyway a promise you made him invoke to separate the past pleasures from the present stalemate.

Revisiting those thoughts often, Javier understood why you made the decision. One he hated but respected. Wondering most nights why you still let him inside your soft plush body instead of putting up a wall between the two of you. Shoving him out of your life fully. But then the transfer you didn’t speak of talked louder than any uttered words could.

“Two weeks ago, something about returning back to the States. Damn shame Y/N’s a fucking amazing secretary even better person. Why’d you go fuck things up for us both?” Wanting to knock some sense into Javier but a part of Steve understood the other man’s reasons for pushing you away. “Just let her go man this job she’s not fit nor can put up with the stress. I know I pushed at first but whatever you did to shover her away it’s for the best.”

“She’s a lot stronger than you know,” said more to himself than Steve. Other mans words hitting deeper than Javier would say, his fingers tightening around the leather steering wheel. “You don’t know shit Murphy.”

“I know a month ago things changed between the two of you.” Switching the baby to his other arm cradling her close to his chest. “Whatever happened she become withdrawn, stopped smiling as much,” piercing him with a hard stare. “Reverting back to the woman I first met when coming Bogota.” Glancing out the windshield Steve drag a hand over his face exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “ piece of advice either fess up explain what’s eaten at you or let her go.”

Selfishness claws at his mind wanting to keep you from leaving. From getting away not only from Columbia it’s self but from him. The realistic half needing you safe a world removed from the war starting to build back up. This afternoon’s events flash through his mind of how he almost killed a kid. A fucking kid who tried to protect the Sicario scum he chased and cornered. Would’ve had him had the kid not pulled a gun on him. The decision not to pull the trigger an easy one this time. But what about the next? Making him no better than the men he chases if he decided to take the shot so easily. Affirming those thoughts to let you go for your greater good and health.

“Javi?” Snapping fingers to gain his attention. “Deep in thought or just swimming the shallow waters?”

Scowl taking up home over his features, “Don’t worry about it doesn’t concern you.”

“Fuck you say, she’s my friend to Javi.” Shaking his blond head wondering how much pushing it’ll take before Peña would break. “Besides I think Connie has a good chance at kicking your ass if you do anymore damaged. She’s wanted to get her hooks into you for a while now.”

Almost chuckling at those words though it’s mirthless and self deprecating. “She’s next in line,” tossing the words out while starting the Jeep. Silence reigns on the drive over to their apartment, pulling up to the curb and letting Steve out.

Who pauses in the open door, “Heading to Y/N’s? Or back to the Embassy?”

“Paperwork,” impatiently waiting for Steve to shut the door.

Eager for some peace and time to think. He sees you standing in the doorway arms crossed under your generous breasts. For once actually studying your features taking in the fact you look somber, dressed in well loved jeans and baggy T-shirt. No makeup, though Javi told you a thousand times how beautiful you look without all those cosmetics painted on your face. Heart kicking up at the way your staring at him. Barely seen with you so far away but he knows there’s a softness shining in your eyes. Emotions he’s never tried to decipher in other women till you. Thoughts now run into each other, fears chasing after wanting so much but feeling undeserving.

Soft chuckle echos around the Jeep’s cabin making Javi glance at Steve, “Time better served explaining than useless paperwork.” Looking over his shoulder to find you gone, “Before it’s to late and she’s gone.” Door slamming shut, Steve leans in through the open window with a meaningful expression on his handsome face. Patting the inside slight nod of his blond head before turning to go inside leaving Javier with to many thoughts.

Pulling away from the curb happening to glance back towards the apartments catching you standing at the window. Hand pressed to the glass unreadable look on your face one he’s sure shows signs of displeasure and anger. With a blink your silhouette disappears heart clenching at the thought he’s just imagined you standing there. Another curse flies from his lip, palm forcefully slamming down on the steering column doing nothing to temper the anger boiling inside his mind. Instead Javier guns the engine taking off at a high rate of speed receiving numerous honks in irritated warning.

*************************

Letting the curtain fall back in place wild thumping of your heart pulsing out a rhythm that aches with every pound. Partly hating yourself for getting involved with a man incapable of having any kind of relationship other than sexual. Asking yourself why you keep letting him back into your bed, into your heart knowing it’ll just break in the end. Only one answer comes to mind and you push it firmly back into the dark abyss. Focusing on what you needed to done. Having struggled for the last two months with the decision to finally put in for a transfer home, away from Columbia and Javier Peña. Never an easy choice especially when you’ve fallen in love with a man who would never love you back.

Heavy knocking makes you jump in spot leaning against the wall by the window. Hand coming to rest against the quickly beating organ threatening to thump right outta your chest. Taking a breath trying to calm down from the freight you take small steps to eat up the distance towards the door. Another round of pounding has a scowl appearing wondering who would beat your door down at this time of evening.

“Hold your horses I’m comin’ already,” raising you voice loud enough to at least pause the noise.

Grasping the doorknob right when, “Hermosa,” his voice pulls your hand back almost as if the knob burned you with that very endearment. “Open up you can’t hide I know your there.”

“Go away Javier I’m not in the mood,” arms crossed glaring at the door. Pivoting on bare feet to track towards the kitchen going back to sorting through what your keeping and leaving behind. Freezing in place the unmistakeable sound of a key sliding into lock. Cursing the fact you never asked for the spare back and giving him one in the first place. Try as you might to make your feet move instead there rooted in spot when the door opens. “I didn't invite you in Javi turn your ass around and leave.”

Breath escaping quickly, eyes narrowing after searching the apartment he’s spent the last months in. Catching sight of half filled boxes, newspaper scattered over the coffee table, before landing on your furious features. Hands gripping wide hips, soft chin jutted out in annoyance while eyes spit anger burying the true feelings deep. “It’s true?”

“Why do you care?” Countering his words biting the inside of your cheek to keep tears from sliding coldly down your cooling skin. “Leave Javier,” exasperated and tired just wanting to move on, putting the relationship in the past.

Not two steps away his warm gun callused hand incloses around your wrist tugging and turning your plush body around to face him. “Not till you answer me.”

“We don’t talk about feelings remember Peña, your rules,” yanking your wrist free glare firmly in place.

Flinching at the harsh tone eyes scorching him with there intensity, his own somber and filled with regret. Deserving of those very words no matter how much they hurt. He moves forward for you to take one back reaching to grasp both shoulders. Taking another step out of his reach slow two step pattern finds your back pressed against the bar counter. Reminiscent of the first time you made love all those months ago. Except this time you’d stand strong push him away and not fall prey to those warm russet eyes filled with so many indescribable emotions.

“Stupid rule I never should’ve put in our relationship,” three feet of space between the two of you. Both chests heaving breaths eyes locked and searching. His eyes close drawing in your familiar scent letting it wash all the days stress clean for a single moment in time. Ear’s picking up the quick beating of your heart wishing as his eyes open a smile would bloom over those kissably soft lips.

“But you did and there’s no taking it back now,” firm stance starting to crumble under the weight of emotions filtering through his dark eyes.

Half way to reaching out his hands drop back to fist at his sides, “I’m sorry hermosa I didn’t mean…” unsure how to fix what’s broken. Never good at speaking his feelings even when the need presents its self.

I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles

And the heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

“What’d want from me Javier?” Pleading tone arms crossed to close your body off. Putting up a defense against the one man who’s managed to crumble every wall surround your heart. To starve off the bubbling emotions threatening to spill over and consume you.

Closing the small gap, callused hands cup both cheeks, fingers spread from apples to jawlines. Brushing his thumbs under your eyes his own pleading and soft ‘the puppy’ look you nicknamed it two weeks into the relationship. “To kiss you.”

Swallowing harshly, “Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" Willing your body not to react, not to turn and place kisses to his palm. Nuzzling the warmth drawing peace from his comforting touch. “We made rules you know how I feel about kissing Javi.”

Almost two months ago things started to fall apart. Always asking yourself why you still let him into your bed and body. Part of you knowing the space carved Javier hole in your heart will never close. Not even denying the both of you those intimate kisses could change the fact he’s wormed his way through defenses long held too fall in love with your DEA agent.

“I know mi amor,” sliding one hand down from your face to wrap his arm around your thick waist. Pulling you flush into his embrace and against his body. Turning the both of you so it’s his back pressed into the counter. Savoring the softness wishing you’d hold him. Run your fingers through his hair and chase away the stress currently resurfacing with your tense posture. “I don’t want you to leave.” No truer words spoken ones that cut his very soul with the implications of what could happen if he didn’t take Steve’s advice.

Agony rips a new hole in your heart at his words, at the endearment dripping from those sinful lips. “You don’t mean that.” Eyes close to keep from staring into russet browns. Trying not to give in and foolishly hope he means what he speaks.

“I do hermosa,” eyes popping open at the barest brush of his chapped lips against yours, widen orbs find his shut, brow furrowed. “I don’t want to loose you.”

“Javier,” breathlessly whispering his name. The intensity of Javi’s declaration scares you not wanting to believe for a second his words ring true. Not when so many broken promises lay at your feet. Yet, if there’s one thing you know about Javier Peña he’s honest, never lying to you about what he wanted. Holding back sure, not letting you in those tightly held defenses of his own fuck yes, but lie to you never. Those thoughts make others chase after. Ones that scare you into thinking you’ve made a huge mistake by asking for the transfer. Could you leave his man who holds your heart? Walk away from a relationship that’s possibly just hitting a rough patch? So engrossed in those thoughts you don’t realize he’s tipping your chin up to angle your head in the prefect position to slot his mouth over yours.

Javier’s restraint having snapped with his name slipping from your bitten lips, wanting to meld the two of you together in the only way he knows how. Showing you with his body what his words couldn’t express. Javier captures your mouth in a bruising kiss filled with demands. Teeth biting at your lips, dragging plump bottom in to abuse with nibbles and soothing over with his tongue. Harsh gasp blown from your mouth giving him access to the warm cavern. Drinking from your well, tasting your flavor on his tongue always returning for more. Tangling together as his arm tightens around your soft waist.

Garnering a moan of need from deep within your chest. Attacking his mouth with your own, fingers coming into play by carding through those thick mahogany strands tugging harshly. Receiving a growl in return that vibrates down to your very core clit throbbing in response to his rough actions.

Mouths parting to gather air, “I need you hermosa please,” desperation coloring his tone foreheads resting together. The hand still cupping your cheek slides around to gently cup the back of your head. “I need…” swallowing hard, fighting to keep from taking you hard and fast right there. Burying the fear and pain, the anger and worry into your soft gentle body. Letting you sooth the demons threatening to consume his soul. But he couldn’t, promising to never show that side of himself to you.

Those thoughts in mind Javier moves in to kiss you only to chase your mouth till you place fingers over his searching lips. Seeing a spark of need in he eyes that’s closed away before fully blooming. Leading you to remember a conversation the two of you had at the on set of your relationship. Knowing what he needed and how, you step back watching his features fall with his arms to the side.

Only to have confusion replace the crestfallen expression as you tug the t-shirt up and off your body. Standing in just your panties and jeans, “I told you a long time ago Javier I’m not made of glass this body…” hands gliding up from your waist to soft tummy and generous breasts. “Won’t break if your rough with me.” Heat sparking in eyes that will him to listen, give in and take you. “If I’m staying and we work this out you’ll have to let me in.”

Each word hits him hard square in the heart, “I don’t want to hurt you cariño.”

“You already have Javier,” head dropping you go to tug your shirt back on. Only to have it ripped from your hand and tossed somewhere unseen. That soft gasp making his heart beat triple time. Strong arms wrap around your body to bring you back into his warmth. “Fix what you broke.”

There’s no gentleness to the possessive kiss Javier captures your mouth with. Large warm hands grip your plush ass to press into your tummy the thick ridge of his jeans covered erection. Low growl slipping passed parted gasping lips that angle for the right spot to draw those whimpers and moans he can never get enough of. Separating long enough to have you rip his tan button up open, little plastic disks pinging off the wall and tiled floor. Scoring your short nails over his soft tummy, toying with the button of his jeans.

“Fuck,” hissing through kiss swollen lips that attack your neck with bitting teeth. Wanting to mark each inch of you in reminder to himself of who you derive your pleasure from. “Do that again,” demanding cadence gets a soft smirk to spread over your bitten lips.

Keeping your eyes lock, breath existing quickly because of the passionate kiss. Short nails rake up his chest and leave little red lines behind. Detouring to pinch his pebbled tight nipples receiving another low growl against the skin of your collarbone. Where his mouth sucks a purpling mark laving his tongue over the bruising skin. Enjoying the shutter he feels race down your spine.

Pushing the shirt from his shoulders Javier raises his head to stare into your desire darken eyes. “Fuck me Javier till I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Simple words ignite a passion and deep seated need inside his body to claim and wreak you. Clothing becomes nothing more than obstacles in the way of having naked skin against his own. The two of your fumbling with buttons and zippers. His parting on a sigh of relief as you push the fabric to pool around his ankles. Nimble fingers brushing through course little hairs. Leading your hand to wrap around his shaft. Thick girth barely covered by your hand that you pump along heated velvet skin.

Smirking at the groaning string of Spanish curses falling from his lips. Only replaced by the pout, when he brushes your hand away. Mouth still just inches from yours brushing taking another sip from your lips. Drowning in the taste of your mouth, the feel of your plump lips against his. Devouring the pout and only breaking to whisper, “Later princesa.” Toeing off boots and soak covered feet pressing out of jeans, naked as on his born day for your eyes to devour.

Becoming insnared with his beauty far too long for Javier’s liking. Lips licked slowly watching the bob of his jutting cock. Mouth watering in want of a taste. Quick breaths expanded his soft covered muscular chest your hands itch to dust over. His handsomeness distracting you to the point a squeal issues from the back of your throat when he pulls you by the belt loops towards the couch. Skilled fingers making quick work of getting your jeans undone warm palms sliding the fabric down your body.

Javier drops back into the couch bringing you between his spread knees and placing kisses to your tummy. Nuzzling the underside of your breasts. Looking up to ensnare your vision with his own desire filled gaze. Strong arms holding you in place while eyes close, nose rubbing into your soft scantly skin resting his head on your tummy. Hands coming up to card through his hair gently this time tugging the locks and wrapping his shoulders with your arms. Emotions clogging your throat burning with the need to release the tears of mixed feelings.

Moaning head tossing back when his warm tongue peeking out to teasing the taut nipples his hands tug your panties down. Becoming impatient and ripping the thin cotton from your body. Making you gasp and look down into those desire blacken eyes you choose happily to drown in. “You’ll…” swallowing your words on a moan as those thick skilled fingers draw through your folds. Tapping your clit several times and retreating to slide inside your clinching walls.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

“I’ll buy you more cariño and go with you to help pick out certain ones,” giving you a cheeky wink. Groaning with the feel of slick coating his fingers, smirk in place when your hands brace on his shoulders to keep from tipping over into his arms. Pulling his fingers out to suck them clean making sure your watching his every move. The resounding whimper he draws out brings the same smug grin too tug at his lips. Gripping the back of your thick thighs to spread your stance and slot his own knees between.

Pulling you down against him knees on either side of his thighs. Hiss issued at the contact of your dripping folds coating his shaft trapped between your bodies. Rolling hips to tease your own hands gripping the back of the couch to brace yourself while raising up. Deep moan breaks from your chest when Javier draws the fat cock head through your folds. Circling your clit as your hips match the movements. Waiting till he’s notched himself at your entrance before slamming down against him.

Head tossing back at the stretch and burn of him splitting you open gasps of delight echo and play with the groans from Javier. Who grips your hips, holding you against him for a time face buried in your chest. Hot mouth searching out blindly latching onto your right nipple to bite down just hard enough to make your quivering channel squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck,” single word mumbled against your skin. When you start to move setting a quick pace that’s hard and demanding. Head dropping back between your gripping hands. String of curses and praise leave his lips. “Just like that hermosa, so fucking wet for me,” grunting into your mouth that came to fuss to his. Sharing breaths while you move against his body.

Taking possession of his pleasure with a kiss that’s deep and hungry. Devouring the sounds he makes with each quick roll of your hips. Pressing your generous breasts against the hard plains of his chest, nipples brushing his skin as his own hands grip your thick soft waist. Leaving behind bruises with how tightly he holds you. One hand gliding over sweat slicked skin to cup a full ass cheek giving a squeeze before landing a hard slap.

Movements falter with the stinging pleasure coursing through your veins, “Javi.” Kiss breaking breathlessly to catch his eyes. Seeing the indecision clearly written, you nod leaning to brushing your lips over his ear, “Again please.”

Mouth buries against the spot where shoulder and neck meet, planting his feet firmly to thrust into your welcoming cunt quicker. Letting a moment pass till he lands another smack to the other ass cheek. Soothing the pain with his warm palm, “Like that princesa?” Drawing his nose over the sweaty expanse of his throat tossed back on a gasp. Bearing your neck to his hungry gaze and mouth.

Taking advantage to bite and suck, thick mustache abrading your skin in the most delicious of ways. Sending tingles to dance across your skin making your clit throb with each hard pound of his cock deep inside your quivering walls. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders for leverage as your knees sink into the couch and you bounce on Javier’s cock. Thick thighs shaking as orgasm builds quicker than you thought possible.

“Yes,” whimpering out in answer. Both hands cup your ass helping you move against him. Sweat slicked shoulders make for a tough grip movements becoming choppy and sloppy. Low whine bubbles from the back of your throat needing more but unsure how to say.

Javier picks up on the destress, pulling out making the whine lengthen. “Lay back on the couch for me hermosa,” seeing the confusion in your gaze. Javi tugs you to sit in the corner of the couch, pulling till your almost flat and he crawls between those thick thighs he wants wrapped around his waist.

Sliding back inside of you on a groan, “Still so tight for me princesa I could stay buried in your pretty pussy forever never growing tired of having your surround me.”

“Javi,” heat flares across your body at his words, face buried in your palms. Only to have them pulled and placed on his chest. Shocked yet pleased with his sentiments, the way he growls out the words setting off tingles dancing down your spine.

Gasping when he pulls out resting just the tip before surging back angling to hit that little spot only he’s managed to discover inside you. Right leg draped over his hip left dangling off the couch as your hands scrap and grope at his shoulders. Strong arms press on either side of you holding himself up while rocking his hips into yours. Setting a fast and hard pace that has you gasping, moans of incoherent words tumble from your mouth that hangs open trying to gather breath.

Watching with hooded eyes, drinking in the way you look, the passion morphing your features never wanting to let you go. To always see you in the throws of pleasure he delivers to your body. Praying to whoever will listen that you’ll stay. Those thoughts creating a fire inside his body that moves quicker.

Wanting to show you his feelings by repeatedly burying his cock deep inside your throbbing cunt. Loving your soft thick body with his mouth latching onto a breast. Nipping skin and taunt nipples, curling his tongue before biting down and switching to the twin. Feeling your nails score his back and shoulders only driving on his own pleasure.

Needing you to cum first though, Javier slides one hand between your slick bodies to caress your clit with tight circles of pressure. Smirking into your flesh when you gasp and squirm under him. His name breathlessly spoken to the heavens your back arching off the couch. “That’s my girl cum for me amor soak my cock.”

“Javier,” fingers card through his hair pulling his mouth back to yours. Tender and sweet nothing like the previous kisses as you pour your heart out to the man pounding you into the couch. Foreheads rest together, moans dripping from your lips brushing against his trying to hold back to draw out the pleasure. Afraid of the final moment he finds completion and walks out of your life maybe for good this time. “I love you,” unable to stop those three words from tumbling out. Orgasm slamming through your body with the hard thrusts of Javier’s hips. Crying out his name, arching against him breath stuck along with tears in your throat.

Swearing he heard things, Javier’s pace stuttered but his heart pounds quicker. Hips having a mind of their own as his body rushes to completion. Cumming harder than he’s ever in his life, filling your clinching walls with hot stick seed. Strength evaporated from his arms collapsing into your embrace. Burying his face in your neck, hot moist breath fanning out over your skin. Small after shocks roll through both your bodies garnering whimpers and moans from both of you.

Time, unsure of how much passes while you card fingers through his sweat slicked hair. Enjoying this moment, basking in the after glow of your love making while praying it’s not the end.

“Don’t leave,” words whispered into your skin so low there barely caught. Wondering if you’ve heard things your fingers pause watching on stuttering breath as Javier raises his head to stare into your eyes. Wondering if you meant what you said or just caught up in the pleasurable sex and let it out. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask when you beat him to the punch.

“I… I…” words lost in the jumble of your mind unsure what to say. Fearful your passionate declaration went unheard or worse ignored.

Cupping your cheek surprised to find tears tracking down your cheek, “Don’t leave me Y/N please.”

Searching his bright russet eyes confused till you see what he’s really saying. Realization blooming across your mind your own hand coming up to embrace his cheek. Thumb swiping over the apple, “I’ll speak to Noonan.” Bringing his mouth down to yours for a soft sweet kiss.

“Do you really love me?” Foreheads resting together breath held, his eyes closed tightly fearing the answer.

Shocked he’s asking. Remembering the times you tried to get him to talk about his feelings becoming shut down pushing the conversation away or distracting you with kisses and sex. With the lengthening silence Javier dares to open his eyes catching the soft expression in yours that cracks his frozen heart.

“I wouldn’t say those words if I didn’t mean them Javi you know that,” continuing to brush your fingers over his stubbled jaw. Up into his soft sweaty hair to gently scratch his scalp knowing how much he enjoys when you do. Rewarded with a low purr from the back of his throat. “What happened today baby?”

Fear keeps him quiet for a moment till, “I almost killed a kid.” Lowering his stare to map your skin with his eyes adding the marks he left behind to his memory. Fear returning now that you’ve heard how much of a monster he’s turning into.

“Did you shoot?” There’s no accusations or incrimination, voice softly seeking a way to help sooth the demons you saw when he first arrived.

Carefully pulling from your warm depths and embrace to sit on the edge of the couch face buried in his hands. Missing the whimper at loosing his touch. You grab for the blanket draped over the back to cover yourself in self consciousness. Moving carefully to sit up and lean against his shoulder. Fingers carding through his hair slowly while placing the other around his waist. Waiting till he’s ready to start speaking not wanting to push.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime

Yes I need her in the night

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

Welcoming warmth enveloping his body that cleaves into you. Baritone rough with emotions, “No I couldn’t pull the tigger, didn’t want to shoot some kid who’s stupidly following the orders of a man who doesn’t care about him.”

“Listen to me Javi you’re not Escobar you’ll never have that narcissistic attitude.” Turning his face to look at you, brushing the stubble with your fingertips. “Yes you’ve done some questionable things for good reasons to take down this asshole who would gladly see all of Columbia burn just to get and keep what he wants.” Leaning in to brush your nose against his, “I couldn’t love a man who killed people for kicks Javier. That’s not what you do. You save people, protect them as best you can.”

Unworthiness filtering through his thoughts never expecting to find someone who loved him faults and all. Intertwining his fingers with the hand previously on his cheek bring the back to his lips to place a kiss. “I don’t deserve you hermosa,” swallowing harshly letting your hand go to stand. Unconcerned with his nakedness Javier stretches popping his back then looking down at you.

Worry etched in those beloved eyes that stare unblinkingly at the spot he just vacated. “Leaving now?” Biting off the words tears clouding your vision mistaking his declaration as rejection pulling the blanket tighter around your plush body.

Forefinger and thumb pinching the end of your soft chin raising your gaze to meet his, “Why would I leave when everything I want and love rests with you.”

“Javier?” Voice wobbling with unshed tears.

Pulling the blanket from your body taking in the curves and dips, the softness he’s itching to get his hands back on. But right now Javier brings the nearest hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with his mouth mustache tickling your skin. Keeping your eyes locked as he tugs you up into his arms. “I’m serious Y/N I don’t deserve you but without you I’m a shell of a man,” bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek deep russet eyes burning with love staring into yours.

“What are you saying?” Fear coating the words, afraid it’s all a dream and you’ll wake without Javier beside you.

Drawing your mouth closer, strong arm wrapping around your thick waist, “I’m saying I love you Y/N and if you’ll have me I’m yours till you kick me out for driving you crazy.”

“You already do that Javi,” watery giggles escaping your lips that brush his twice. Reaching up to card fingers through the soft strands at the back of his head tugging just a little harder than normal. “Say it again.”

Grunting at the tugs sliding a hand down to cup a generous bare ass cheek to give a squeeze. “Drive you crazy.”

Just barely holding in the squeak, “No,” eyes rolling at his cheek. “You know what I mean Javier Peña.”

“I do,” slotting his mouth against yours stealing the breath from your lungs as he kisses you with a passion never felt before. Barely breaking to mumble those three simple words into your lips, “I love you.” Getting lost in your kiss while silently vowing to never let you go or break your heart.

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

[erimeows]

Crush

Bumblebee never imagined a world in which he’d be obsessed with Sentinel Prime, but there he was, staring longingly at the Elite Guard member’s back as him and his team watched fireworks together. Luckily for him, Jazz had convinced Sentinel to tag along.

The yellow Autobot sat there, half-engaged with the conversation Bulkhead was trying to have with him. He hated that he was missing out on the fireworks, but something about watching Sentinel seemed to captivate him more.

A cocksure smile on beautiful lips which released an even more beautiful midnight laugh into the air, earning a laugh back from Optimus Prime, who was sitting by the larger bot’s side on the rooftop they were all currently on.

Jazz and Prowl were walking around the rooftop, talking and pointing out the fireworks they liked, while Ratchet (who was completely sober) laid in a corner with Sari sitting next to him and stared at the sky silently. Bulkhead had been by Bumblebee’s side the whole night, which he appreciated, but still... He couldn’t help but be upset, just watching them.

His fixation with Sentinel had gotten bad since the Prime had come to earth, to the point that he had memorized the outline of those rough lips and burned the scent of the older bot into the back of his processor.

But no, it wasn’t because he had a crush on Sentinel Prime, his former sergeant, like everyone teased him for.

Instead, it was because of how in love he was with Optimus Prime, one of his closest friends and the leader of his repair-team-turned-squad-unit.

And it hurt. Primus, it hurt.

It hurt to watch Sentinel have what he wanted so easily, to use that magic touch of his as he tossed an arm over Optimus’s shoulders and chatted away with him like the old friend that he was despite all of the fucked up shit he had done to the younger Prime.

It hurt to watch Optimus turn to face the blue and gold bot and laugh, those plump lips curved into one of the only true and genuine smiles Bee had ever seen from him, the tension between the two rivals melted by the oil they’d all consumed and replaced with their blatantly obvious feelings for each other, those of which had always been there. It was almost like they were destined to be, two main characters in some sort of love story, while Bumblebee was a supporting character meant to push Optimus in that direction.

But, no. He was selfish, and he would never do such a thing, even if it meant seeing Optimus- because Primus be damned, he could make Optimus just as happy as Sentinel could if not happier, couldn’t he? He was selfish and greedy and wanted Optimus to himself, so he did what he could, and if that meant making everyone think he was in love with Sentinel Prime with the way he gawked at him, he was fine with that- because Optimus was too selfless to go after Sentinel if he thought Bee was interested, anyway. 

That wasn’t his intention when he started watching Sentinel, initially. He’d just been trying to absorb whatever the hell it was about the large bot that Optimus loved so much, and everyone had misconstrued it, but it had worked out for him.

Or so he thought. Look at him now, though, ignoring his best friend in favor of staring at Sentinel and Optimus, neither of whom were even batting an optic in his direction. 

And this was how his new year was starting, him wishing he had some semblance of whatever Sentinel Prime had that made Optimus fall so hard for him; confidence, strength, sharp optics, wit, bravery, or maybe it was something else like how Sentinel’s audials twitched when he was nervous, how his face plates burned red when he lied, or how good he was in the berth.

The thought brought him no peace, and it brought him no rest. He heard Sentinel sneaking into Optimus’s room at night quite frequently, and though he never knew what happened in there, the thought of Sentinel and Optimus intertwined underneath the younger Prime’s berthsheets, whispering sweet and filthy things alike in each other’s audials, kept him awake and anguished.

Bumblebee felt himself frown at that, lips pulled tight and mouth tasting bitter. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so negative, but when it came to his feelings for Optimus, he couldn’t help it. It was all wrong; how immature, how deceitful, how angry he was acting about the whole predicament, but he figured that’s what love did to a mech when it was at its worst.

“Bee? Buddy?”

When he snapped out of his trance, Bumblebee looked up to see that Bulkhead was dangling one large servo in front of his optics, clearly trying to catch his attention. The pang of guilt that always came at times like this manifested in the yellow bot’s spark rather quickly, sinking to the bottom of his stomach like tar in a way that made him feel sick. He knew he was neglecting his other relationships while being caught up with Optimus and Sentinel, and Bulkhead had always been there for him... Why couldn’t he just be one of those mechs who fell in love with their best friend?

No, that was a cruel thought. Bulkhead deserved someone who cherished and adored him, he was too good for Bumblebee, as was Optimus.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been out of it all night, and you seem sad... You have too much oil?” Bulkhead’s servo was on his shoulder plating, and for a second, Bumblebee struggled to speak. His optics landed on the bright fireworks above them, pink and purple and white and vibrant. Bulkhead was focused on him, Ratchet was pointing out planets to Sari, Jazz and Prowl were as in love as they always were, and Sentinel Prime and Optimus Prime...

Well, he couldn’t handle it. Maybe it had something to do with the oil he’d nervously been drinking to settle his nerves, or maybe he was just at a boiling point, but before he could think about what he was doing, he was standing up on his stabilizing servos with shaky knees. He must’ve looked bad, because within seconds, everyone’s optics (or, in Sari’s case, eyes) were landing on him.

“I- I think so, um... I’m gonna leave,” Bumblebee stuttered, voice cracking. Optimus was the first to object, standing from his spot on the edge of the roof. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried, he couldn’t seem to ignore the servo of Sentinel’s that was resting on Optimus’s back. 

“Bee shouldn’t someone walk you back if you’re not feeling well?” Optimus approached him, but the smaller bot, unable to handle the emotional turmoil that was taking him over, found himself stumbling away before he could even process the consequences his actions might’ve had. “Where are you- hey, Bumblebee, wait up!”

“Let him go, Optimus,” Sentinel stopped him, because of course he did, and with that, Bumblebee was racing back down to the inside of their base from the stairwell on the rooftop and into his room.

When he reached it, he shut the door behind him and flopped down onto his bed with a frustrated shout.

He wanted to recharge, but his processor was too clouded with his conflicted thoughts to allow him to do so. The celebration on the floor above him slowly died down, the fireworks growing quiet and the sounds of berthroom doors opening and closing as everyone went to bed over the span of the next hour.

Optimus was probably already asleep, too.

Angry at himself, he started to rant, even if no one was around to hear him out.

“Ugh, why am I like this... I could’ve just put up with it like I always do, but no, I just had to go and make a scene in front of him, and now no one’s going to let me live it down, and they’re all going to assume I’m jealous of him for hugging on Sentinel when it’s not-”

His self-deprecating rambling was cut off by a knock at his door; knock, knock, knock. Three soft, polite, in rhythm taps that Bumblebee quickly recognized as his leader’s, followed by said leader’s deep voice ringing through the wall.

“Bumblebee? Are you awake? Sorry to disturb, but I wanted to see you. Could you come open the door?”

“Bossbot?” The Autobot perked up, and though he had fully intended to lay in bed sulking and ignoring everyone who came to check on him, the sound of Optimus’s voice had him rushing to open his berthroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you since you seemed to be so out of it when you left, but you seem to be doing alright, thank goodness,” The Prime gave him that smile, the one of relief that made Bumblebee’s spark leap because of just how beautiful it was. “I should probably leave instead of pressing the matter, but... I thought I saw you staring at Sentinel and I, and I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t misjudge what was happening.”

His spark fucking dropped. While whatever his obsession with Sentinel happened to be was obvious to bots like Prowl, Ratchet, and Bulkhead who teased him for it, he had hoped that Optimus would never bring it up. It was a conflict he wasn’t ready for, and if he could, he would play it off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bumblebee tilted his helm, wondering if he had been that obvious while watching them on the rooftop earlier that night.

“May I come in?” 

Optimus being Optimus, he didn’t get right to it, which made the anxiety building up in Bee’s chest ten times worse. But alas, he could never say no to his boss, so he stepped aside to allow the Prime inside.

“O-Of course!”

With that, he shut the door behind them.

The two sat next to each other on Bumblebee’s berth, the lights still off, which meant that the only thing keeping the room lit was the beams that poured through the window from the moon and the fireworks. Optimus’s face was gorgeous in that moment, full of something that Bee could only perceive as longing and regret and love if he didn’t know any better, sharp features highlighted by the moonlight that shone over them.

“I’m not sure what you think my relationship with Sentinel is, but it’s nothing more than enemies at our worst and sparklinghood friends at our best. Our relationship is very long and very complicated, but we’ve always been more like brothers than anything, and as much as you deny it, I know you’re in love with him... I pay attention to how you look at us, when the two of us are together, and how you perceive him. I just want to reassure you that I would never steal him away from you, Bumblebee. I love you too much to do that to you- even if I can’t have you, and even if it’s with someone else, I want you to be happy.”

“W-What?” The younger of the two spat, optics going wide. Optimus being the type he was, he cringed at what he’d said and scooted to the edge of the berth, not even able to look at Bumblebee after the impromptu confession.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but-” The red and blue bot stood up and held his helm in one servo. He groaned while Bumblebee couldn’t even process what was going on. Had he imagined the whole relationship between Sentinel and Optimus that he thought was there? Was this actually happening? Did Optimus love him back, and was he going to get the happy ending he’d always wanted? “Well, I suppose the truth is out, then... The oil seems to have gotten to the both of us. I’ll leave-”

“No, are you insane!?” Bumblebee exclaimed with a laugh and moved closer to the Prime so he could grab his arm with both servos and drag him back down onto the bed. Begrudgingly, Optimus sat back down, and Bumblebee closed the gap between them.

“Huh?”

“It’s- It’s you, Prime! It’s always been you and it always will be, you know?” Bumblebee’s words were rushed, stumbling over each other and dripping with excitement. The tension in Optimus’s shoulders seemed to release as his face was dyed bright red with a heavy blush- perhaps from the embarrassment that came with the same realization Bumblebee was having. “I was never in love with Sentinel; he’s a selfish, inconsiderate glitch who’s always treated you like you’re scrap metal! You’re brave, you’re kind, you’re always there for me when I need it, and I just... I love you so much, and-”

“Oh, beautiful, c’mere,” Optimus broke and pulled Bumblebee into him, strong arms wrapping around the yellow bot’s frame and pulling him into his lap. Bumblebee melted into the touch and buried his face in Optimus’s chest plates. “I’m sorry it took us this long.”

“Me, too.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Optimus, who spoke with an uncharacteristically teasing tone and an equally teasing smirk gracing his plump lips.

“How long ‘ve you been crushing on me, then?” The words were a bit slurred in a way that made Bumblebee hyperaware of just how buzzed they still were from the oil.

“...Too long,” He spat and quickly stared down at the ground like it had become the most interesting thing in the universe. “I don’t want to admit how long level long.”

“Ah, I see... Looks like I owe Sentinel some money after all,” Optimus laughed, earning a playful slap on his arm from Bumblebee in return.

“Wh- You guys bet on which one of you I had a crush on!? I need to hear about this!”

“Okay, so it started when...”

And, as Optimus started to tell his story, an arm still lovingly wrapped around Bumblebee’s small frame, he sighed in relief. 

Surely, after this, no one would think he had a crush on Sentinel Prime.

[retroellie]

can you do an ellie x joel's daughter!reader headcanon or imagine? maybe like set during the first game when they are like first getting to know each other and bonding (and developing crushes on each other 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

Summary: Joel daughter’s falling in love with ellie 

A/N: UGHHH my heart melted at the thought of this, Thank you for requesting<3 Also i’m sorry i suck at writing Imagines and yes i did express my love for David Bowie, what about it?

Warning: None, just innocent teenage love :) 

Word count: 1.8K 

You watched her laugh, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. Sam was telling her jokes he had heard and she laughed at every single one.  It wasn’t fair, you should’ve been the one making her laugh, you wanted to be the reason but Sam dropped in and whisked her away from you. 

You gripped onto your book, not able to concentrate on the jumble of words, too distracted by the laughter coming from the two of them. You weren’t used to feeling jealous, there weren’t too many people you felt jealous towards but this felt horrible. It felt like someone was hanging food above your head and you were starving but you were a few inches too short. 

You have been through hell and back, you saw your mom die in front of you, you have killed so many people that you almost feel numb to the feeling of it. So why did this feeling hurt so much, why did it feel like your heart was being stomped on. Were you finally at your breaking point? 

“Hey kiddo.” A voice interrupted your thoughts 

You looked up from your book, it was your dad. He gave you a comforting smile and plopped down next to you. 

“Hey dad..” You replied, He was bruised up from the group you guys had run into on the way here. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked, placing a hand on your knee. 

“I'm okay,” You said, your voice trailing off and your eyes lingering over the book hoping he wouldn’t read into your answer. 

You weren’t sure how to feel anymore, everything was coming at you so quickly that you haven’t had time to process it. New emotions that you didn’t even know you could feel and old ones that you feel too often. Grief, loss, jealousy... love? 

“How about you put that book down and get some sleep, huh?” He said, shutting the book. 

“I was just getting to the good part.” You chuckled, looking over at him. 

He shook his head and grabbed the book from you, setting it on a near table. He got up, allowing you to fully lay down. You rolled up in a ball, the coldness sending shivers down your spine. 

“I will never know where you get your smarts..” He joked, placing his jacket over you. 

You cuddled up underneath it, suddenly exhausted. You hadn’t noticed how you haven’t slept in almost 24 hours, you all had been on the move ever since meeting sam and henry only resting once through it all. 

“Get some sleep kiddo, you need the rest.” He smiled down at you, turning to leave. 

He walked to the other side of the room, next to henry. They were cleaning up after dinner, getting ready for bed. You looked over at Sam and Ellie once more, they both sleepily told stories and dreams they had. Your eyes had fallen heavy and you could feel yourself being consumed by sleep. 

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You were asleep for a couple hours before you woke up, the quietness of the room creeped you out. You weren’t able to fall back asleep so you decided to get up and go read in the moonlight. You crept around the sleeping bags and backpacks that had been thrown around lazily. 

You found a comfortable looking windowsill you could sit on and opened your book. The book was some old book you found in a cafe you had been through, it was about a red headed girl that didn’t fit in and was just trying to find her way through life, find her purpose. You enjoyed it, feeling connected to the character somehow. 

“Can’t sleep?” A voice said from the darkness, causing you to flinch. 

You snapped your head toward the voice, ready to grab anything to protect yourself with. It was Ellie, your body relaxed a little bit. She chuckled at your alertness. 

“No, it’s too quiet here.” You replied, setting your book down. 

She walked slowly over to the windowsill you were sat on and took a seat next to you. She gave you a small smile, that tiny smile made your heart do flip flops. 

“Right, the QZ’s, they can be loud huh?” She said, turning her attention to the window. 

You’ve never had time to really study her face, you didn’t notice the freckles dotted across her face or how green her eyes were. She would be pretty painted on a piece of paper, with all kinds of greens and peaches creating a perfect masterpiece. 

“Would you ever go back?” She started. “I mean to a QZ?” She turned her attention towards you, her green eyes boring into your skin. 

“I mean I don't think we can go back to Boston. '' You remembered, you never really let that sink in. What the fuck were you guys gonna do now. “But even if i could, i wouldn’t.” 

She chuckled, she wanted to draw you especially right now. The moonlight brought out your eyes, making them more prominent and dreamy. She was afraid she would fall into them if she kept staring at them. 

“I thought i liked it at the QZ but now that i’m here i don’t think i ever wanna go back.” She looked back up at you.” it’s so pretty out here.”  You nodded, looking at anything but her eyes. 

“My mom really wanted to get out of the city.” You stated. “She and my dad always wanted to fix up an old farmhouse.” You smiled at the dream you all had, knowing now it will never happen. 

Your mom was always a fighter, hell she even died one, but she was a dreamer at heart. You were proud to be like your mom, she was the only person in the world who saw things in a different way, that was until you met ellie. 

“Hey,” Ellie attempted to get your attention. You gave it to her, looking up at her. “I’m sorry about your mom, she was a really good person.” You could tell she was trying to make you feel better but it was hardly working, but you just smiled anyways. 

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “You know, she was the only person who didn’t make me feel any less than others because of who I am. Now that she’s gone i don’t know what to feel.” 

Ellie remained silent, letting you talk and she actually listened. She was easy to talk to, you never really told anyone what you were feeling but of all the people you had met she just felt different. 

“That reminds me of my best friend riley.” She spoke, breaking the silence. “I’ve never really had a home or a family to love but she felt like both.” She fumbled with her fingers, her nervousness evident. 

“And where is she right now?” You asked. 

She fell silent for a minute, suddenly her nervousness dropped to utter sadness. You thought you said something you shouldn’t, not sure how to fix it. You just let her take her time, sitting there with her, the two of you alone... together. 

“She got infected.” She finally said. You could feel your heart break for her, the one person she had taken from her. Ellie was completely alone. 

You don’t know what came over you but you didn’t know what to do and you were so heart broken, so when you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close, it surprised both of you. You both stayed like that for a moment, the shock causing Ellie to freeze up but she soon melted into your arms. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer. 

She would be lying if she said she didn’t have butterflies in her stomach right now. You could stay wrapped in her arms forever, it was so warm and cozy something you didn’t feel a lot in this world.

You both stayed like that for a minute, not sure when to pull away. But you guys finally did and when you did you both were blushing up a storm. Ellie looked out the window once more, trying to cover her red face while you looked in the complete opposite direction trying to hide yours.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, you just seemed upset and I....”

“No no, it’s fine” she interrupted, looking over at you. “I needed it.”

You blushed even more, all the blood rushed to your face made you lightheaded. There was a deep nervousness in your stomach, the thoughts of you messing up your entire friendship with Ellie made you sick to your stomach.

The self-deprecating thoughts zoomed through your head, calling yourself every single stupid name there was. You didn’t want to mess what little you had with Ellie up, what if she doesn’t like you now??

“Y/N” she said, getting your attention once more. “When we get older and after they find a cure... let’s buy a farmhouse together.”

Your heart could beat out of your chest right now, you could die a happy death. All your worries about messing everything up melted away with that single statement. You smiled, looking down at your dangling feet. 

“As long as i can get a horse, i’m down.” You chuckled, leaning against the window. 

She smirked, watching your every move. There was a tension that arose that was never really there before, it wasn’t an uncomfortable tension. This was the first time you had ever felt calm on this entire trip, actually looking forward to the cure now. 

“What would you name the horse?” she asked, trying anything to keep the conversation going. She found she really enjoyed talking to you. 

“Hmmm.” You thought for a minute. “Bowie.” You said, smirking over at her. 

“Bowie?” She asked. 

“Yeah, like David Bowie?” You said, watching as her face contoured into confusion. “Like the singer?” You said in disbelief. 

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” She replied, a blush forming on her face. 

You shook you head, wondering how anyone could not know who David fucking Bowie was. Even through the apocalypse he was an icon. 

“Well then, I have so much to teach you.” You joked. 

She smirked, looking down at her hands. She knew she had some kind of feelings for you but this interaction just confirmed her feelings. She didn’t know what love felt like but she had an idea of what it felt like and it’s what she felt now. She could fall in love with you. 

“Can’t wait.” She said with a smirk, hopping off the windowsill. “Goodnight.”

You watched as she walked away into the darkness, when she was finally out of sight you let out a small sigh. Your stomach did turns and your cheeks hurt from smiling, you’ve never had a crush before. 

You weren’t sure what you felt towards her but you liked the feeling, it felt like what the authors described love in the 19th century. It was no other feeling like it. 

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(Credits to gif owner)

[collecting-stories]

Lucky - JJ Maybank

Request: 15. “I don’t deserve you.” - “You deserve everything.” with JJ pls <3

A/N: I wrote a blurb similar to this a while ago and always wanted to expand on it/rewrite it with more detail so I did lol. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat in the holding cell, waiting for Shoupe to reappear and tell him that his dad was here to pick him up. He didn’t regret what he had done for Pope, if he had to he would do it all over again. But he also realized, the longer he sat here, that any hell he could endure actually being locked up was ten times better than inevitably facing his dad.  

He could still remember the look on your face when Shoupe had pulled up and he’d taken the fall for sinking Topper’s boat. There was a list a mile long that Shoupe wanted to pin on him and knowing he could add that to it had him smiling like a kid in a candy shop. You looked devastated though, freaked out maybe, you’d gone back inside of Heyward’s before Shoupe had even finished putting JJ in the car.  

“She’s just upset.” Kiara had said, doing her best to sound supportive. It was no use though, watching you rush back into the store had practically broken his heart.  

If you’d thought it through you would’ve stayed until the car pulled out of the parking lot. But the only thing running through your mind at that moment was that you could not, would not, let JJ’s dad be the one to pick him up from the jail cell.  

JJ kept his relationship with his dad under wraps for the most part but you’d found out how bad it was just two weeks prior and there was no doubt in your mind that you could not let him go home with his dad. You didn’t take the time to think about anything other than running inside to grab your phone from behind the register where you’d left it when Shoupe came in. It was a long shot, maybe, but you had to try.  

“Must be your lucky day Maybank,” Shoupe called, walking into the holding pen and coming up to JJ’s cell, “your lawyer is here to bail you out.”

“My what?” JJ asked, too shocked to be smug.

“Lawyer.” Shoupe repeated, opening the door and letting JJ walk out.  

At the desk, signing the paperwork for JJ’s release, was a well dressed man that definitely looked like he lived on the Eight. Not JJ’s dad by a long shot, not even someone he knew, though there was something familiar in the face. When the door opened to let JJ out onto the other side of the precinct the man turned toward him fully, introducing himself. Only when he heard the last name did it click in his mind.

“Not exactly how I imagined meeting my daughter’s boyfriend but I guess a trumped up vandalism charge is better than some other things.” He said, glancing at Shoupe purposefully.  

You had been dating JJ for a solid four weeks, enough time to know that you were pretty sold on the pogue but not enough time to sell anyone else in your family. He hadn’t met your parents yet and he was putting it off because of obvious reasons, the most notable being that you were a kook and he wasn’t.  

There was no way, according to JJ, that your dad would ever approve of you dating him. If there was a hierarchy in the Eight then there was one on the Cut too and JJ sat right at the bottom, lowest of the low.  

“Just like, one dinner,” you had practically begged when you asked JJ to come over for dinner the week before. “my parents really wanna meet you.”

“Tell them they can wave to me when I pull in the driveway.” He joked, twisting away from you when you tried to shove him.  

“I’m serious, this is important.”

“I’m serious too,” JJ replied, “they aren’t gonna like me. And they definitely aren’t gonna let you date me after they meet me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Clearly, you had been right. JJ didn’t know that at all because here he was with your dad, Shoupe finishing the last of the paperwork, explaining the charges and the cost of the fine and then releasing him into your dad’s custody. For once in his life JJ wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Thank you seemed like too little. He doubted that your dad truly knew what this meant, it wasn’t just getting him off of a charge, it was making sure he didn’t have to go home at the end of the day.  

When they got out of the precinct you were right there, waiting by the car. You practically tackled JJ to the ground in your excitement, throwing your arms around his neck and hanging onto him for dear life. “I was freaking out.” You explained, lips brushing against his neck as you spoke. He kept his arms around your waist, holding you up.  

Your dad cleared his throat, standing at the driver’s side of his door and waiting for the two of you to direct your attention toward him. When you pulled away from JJ to face your dad, he stared speaking, “there’s still some things to go over with the charges...like whether there is merit to them. I can reach out to Dr. Thornton when I get home. I expect you at our house for dinner...think it might be a good idea that we were properly introduced, since I just bailed you out of jail.” He said.

“Right, thank you too, for that.” JJ replied, a little stiff. Aside from Heyward, there weren’t too many adults that he was comfortable around.

“We’ll be back for dinner, promise.” You were already grabbing JJ’s hand, leading him away from the precinct and your dad, heading toward the Wreck. You had texted Kiara that your dad was springing JJ and asked where exactly she was planning a meet-up.  

Not ten minutes ago JJ had been sitting in a cell considering all the things that would happen once his dad got there. That familiar disappointment settling in his stomach. He’d done a good thing for his friend, he couldn’t deny that, but his dad would never have seen it that way. In his mind it would’ve just been his only son, screwing up once again, proving him right that JJ was nothing but a loser. He had imagined the whole scenario, multiple times. Would he hit him in the car? Would he wait to get home? It was all a little more than he could handle thinking about.  

“JJ,” you had stopped at the corner of the street for a traffic light only to realize your boyfriend looked almost catatonic as he followed you. “JJ?” You repeated yourself, pressing a hand against the side of his face and he visibly flinched before withdrawing.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Are you okay?” You asked, “sorry I put you on the spot like that with my dad...I just didn’t want anything worse to happen.”

“It’s okay,” He promised. “I just freaked a little when I saw you run inside, I figured you realized this wasn’t what you signed up for.”  

A kook dating a pogue wasn’t unheard of but JJ was a little off. Everyone said so. He was okay for a night, for a hookup, but he was a little too intense to go out with for longer than that. He was sure that firing the gun at the boneyard was going to be your limit but you kept showing up, kept wanting to hang out.  

You shook your head, “I...signed up...for you. For whatever being with you was and I wouldn’t change my mind. I don’t wanna see you sitting in jail, I don’t wanna see Pope sitting in jail either, but I definitely don’t have any regrets or wish we weren’t dating or something.”  

“When you went back in Heyward’s I thought it was over.” He admitted, remembering the feeling, like a weight settling itself on his chest and cracking it open.  

“I just went in for my phone. I wanted my dad to get down there before Shoupe could call your dad. I was freaked that he’d do something.”

“I can handle him.” He lied.

“JJ.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He sighed.

You frowned, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him. Just hearing him say something so self-deprecating made you ache. “You deserve everything.”  

JJ kissed the side of your head, closing his eyes, “...not how I wanted my first meeting with your dad to go though, I’m sure he already thinks I’m a loser.” JJ replied.  

“He doesn’t. I swear. If he had any doubts he wouldn’t have been there. Besides...Topper’s a dick and he totally deserves whatever alleged thing happened.” You said, trying not to laugh.

“Hey you think your dad can get the video?” JJ asked, “Shoupe said there was video surveillance and I’m dying to see it.”  

-

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[lilxberry]

Comfort and Moving Forward - Jeff Atkins

Synopsis;

Jeff has to watch his dear friend suffer from Justins’ actions, all whilst hoping that she would notice her worth. And him.

Warnings: Angsty af. Fluffff. Mentions of cheating (past relationship). Language. Cute ass Jeff. Super cheesy, cliché plot line *eye roll*

Words: 2,711

Pairing: Jeff Atkins x reader, Justin Foley x reader (past relationship)

_______________

"So wait, you really said that?"

"Like I said. I. GOOGLED. EVERYTHING. How do you expect me to ignore Google?"

Y/N threw her head back with laughter as Tony and she walked down the hallways of Liberty High, drawing the attention of their peers. Taking deep breaths of air to help calm her down, she shook her head and patted her friend on the shoulder, slowing to look at him. "You're possibly the dumbest person I've ever met!"

"But I'm your favourite!" Jeff exclaimed proudly, a smug look plastered across his face.

"Hmm, I dunno about that..." Y/N trailed off, a feigned look of contemplation crosses her features as she rubs her chin, in false deep thought. "I think I like Jensen better."

Jeff stops dead in his tracks as he grasps at his chest, imitating hurt and heartbreak. "How dare you? I'm extremely offended Y/N/N. I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

A smile soon breaks across his face as he slings his arm across her shoulder and chuckles, pulling her close into his side. "You're lucky I love you." He makes kissy faces down towards her, making her face scrunch up in insincere disgust.

Y/N scoffs and playfully rolls her eyes as she jabs her finger gently into his ribs. "Sure am, dumbass."

They proceed to make their way their way out of the school and towards Jeff's car in the parking lot continuing to softly chuckle at the exchange when Y/N perks up, hearing the familiar roaring, boisterous laugh and an airy, girlish giggle carry through the air, making her fall behind Jeff and look around to find the owner.

Jeff noticed the sudden absence of his friend next to him and turns back towards her noticing she's staring of to the side, a mixture of sadness, longing and anger across her features. He takes note of the direction she's looking in and turns his attention to find the source of Y/N's rapid change in mood and behaviour. Once he laid his eyes upon the couple several parking spaces away, laughing loudly together with numerous jocks on either side of them, showing an excessive amount of PDA, Jeff understood immediately and swiftly moved to collect Y/N.

Once reaching his sullen friend, he wrapped his arm around her securely, pulling her along to his car to get in and flee from the scene that was playing out in front of them. Y/N hadn't even realised she was crying until Jeff reached a hand up to her face to wipe away fallen tears soaking the skin of her cheek in salty streams. He smoothed her hair down at the back of her head as he whispered words of comfort to her, in hopes of calming her down.

Finally buckled up within the confined of the vehicle, Y/N releases a long, shaky sign as her eyes screw shut tightly, trying to control her breathing and not break down into sobs.

"Fuck Justin, okay? He's not worth it." Jeff tries to improve his friends glum spirit. "Hey, wanna sleepover? We haven't had one in forever and I really do need to catch up with The Punisher. Plus, I think we both could do with not giving a shit what we eat right now." He throws her a mischievous grin.

She gives him a small smile and nods her head softly, not trusting her voice at that current moment.  

Giving her a one last glance from the edge of his peripheral vision, he turned on the engine and left the schools premises. _______________

With Y/N's parents away for the weekend, the house is empty and quiet, perfect for using the living room for their marathon. After unlocking her front door, Jeff hastily speeds past her and places the bags full of junk food on to the coffee table before sprinting upstairs, readying his arms for the mountain of pillows and blankets he will soon wrestle with to get downstairs.

Y/N watches in slight amusement at her best friend preparing anything and everything needed to comfort her and make her happy. She smiles softly as she kicks her shoes off before lazily making her way up to her bedroom to get changed into her warm and inviting sleepwear, which includes one of the many sweatshirts she's stolen from her frantic friend who's still setting everything up.

She's always adored Jeff, quite frankly was in love with him for the longest time, but as he got his first load of girlfriends in high school, she became disheartened and locked away all hope she could possibly have. She could never believe someone as amazing as Jeff could reciprocate her feelings. plus, she never wanted to endanger her friendship with Jeff, she would break if he was no longer in her life, discouraging her further from admitting her feeling to the baseball player.

When Justin came along one day and asked her out on a date to the movies, she was quite shocked but extremely thankful in a way as she could use the distraction to take her mind away from Jeff. The date went well and soon, multiple others occurred, leading to the two to finally become a couple.

Y/N genuinely fell for the boy and she thought he fell just as hard for her but those thoughts soon diminished once she had witnessed her now ex-boyfriend make out with Jessica Davis, one of the cheerleaders at Liberty, 3 weeks ago. Y/N and Jess weren't best friends of anything but they were civil enough to be considered acquaintances who occasionally hung around the same people.

She had voiced concerns to Justin himself about his friendliness towards the girl but he always dismissed it and said that he loved her and only her. Oh, how right she was to have her doubts.

Justin Foley had well and truly broken the poor girl.

'Was I not good enough?'.....'Am I not pretty enough?'.....'Did I bore him?'.....'What does Jessica have that I don't?'.....'Didn't I show him how much I love him enough?'.....

'Did he ever love me?'.....

She luckily had Jeff who was always there for her. He had shut down every doubt and nasty, self-deprecating thought that damaged her confidence and self-esteem. He would go to the ends of the Earth just to see her happy, even if he was miserable for the rest of his life.

When Y/N and Justin started dating, Jeff was absolutely devastated. He felt heartbroken but it all felt bittersweet when he realised how happy Justin was making his precious Y/N. He wanted time and time again for it to be him to be making her so happy and full of joy, but he never had the gall to state how her felt as he too was scared of ruining what they had.

And with that, he would suffer the consequences of his lack of courage and be subjected to watch his one true soulmate be with him.

"Will you bloody calm down Jeff! I'm getting exhausted just from fucking watching you!"

He exhales a chuckle as he makes his last trip consisting of covers down the stairs. "I just wanna get to eating and cuddling with my favourite." He grinned at her whilst sending her a cheeky wink.

She looked down as she felt her face flush with colour, tinging the tips of her ears and full cheeks pink. "Shut up." She mumbled quietly in reply, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards, forming a small smile to grace her features.

He smiles at her, eyes filled with adoration, absorbing the breath taking sight of his best friend that he was completely and utterly in love with. "I'm gonna go change. I'm pretty sure you left some sweatpants here from last time. I could find them and bring them down for you after I'm done, if you like."

"Yeah, sure." He gave her another small smile and a chaste kiss on the forehead before heading downstairs.

Her blush intensified as he left from the small display of affection. She walked leisurely into her room, quickly finding her sleepwear and stripping of her day clothes. As she changes, she looks over towards her once fully made bed to now see nothing but a mattress, noting the lack of pillows and covers. She releases a breathy giggle, imagining what she ever did right to deserve someone as amazing, kind, caring and special as Jeff.

Y/N's smile started to widen once her thoughts drifted back to Jeff, with his stupid, perfect face. She quickly shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts and finished slipping into her more comfortable clothing.

She dug through her draws, soon finding a pair of darkish grey sweatpants and a navy t-shirt. Collecting them into her arms, she flounces down the stairs to be met with a lounging Jeff surrounded by food, blankets and enough pillows to fill a warehouse. She lets out a snort causing Jeff's attention to be instantly directed towards the girl and a wide yet playful grin to cross his face. "Took you long enough."

"Ha ha." Y/N replies in a sarcastic tone then proceeds to throw the clothing towards the sluggish lounger taking up the couch.

A quiet ‘oof‘ escaped his lips as the clothing hit the intended target that is his face. He removes the clothing from upon his head and his smile falters for a millisecond before turning into a prideful smirk, taking his bottom lip in-between his pearly whites, raking his eyes over her form. "Nice sweatshirt you got there."

"Shut up. It looks better on me anyways." She playfully retorts back at him to distract him from the item of clothing in question and the painfully obvious blush creeping back on to her cheeks.

"That I can agree on." He stands and smugly struts towards the bathroom to go change. As he walks away, he playfully pinches her hip before speaking again. "Why don't you set up the T.V. ready."

Once he's disappeared around the corner and the door to the bathroom can heard closing, Y/N releases a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Walking towards the couch, fumbling with the ends of the shirt she wears, she sits down and reaches for the remote, readying Netflix and bringing up The Punisher for the marathon to begin.

A mere 2 minutes pass before Jeff returns, clad in his sweats and shirt. He plops himself on top of the couch and impossibly close to Y/N, bringing an arm to rest behind her as he pulls a blanket over with the other. Once fully settled into their mountain of comfort, Jeff finally grabs the T.V. remote and presses play.

"Buckle up baby, it's gonna be a long night."

_______________

Through out each and every episode, Y/N couldn't help but let her mind wander and swim with thoughts, not truly paying attention to whatever Frank Castle is doing on screen.

'Was I really a terrible girlfriend?'...….'Should I be happy it's over?'...….'What's with all of Jeff's playful flirting?'...….'It's totally not flirting, right?'...….'He definitely does not like me like that'...….'Is it too soon to be thinking about Jeff like this?'...….

Y/N was so busy drowning in her own thoughts, she hadn't realised that Jeff has been trying to get her attention for the past few minutes nor that her eyes had glazed over and let slip a few salty tears. What truly broke her out of her revere was the gentle cupping of her cheek in a large, calloused hand wiping said tears with gentle strokes of the thumb.

She looked up through her long, delicate eyelashes and glassy irises to be met with the concerned gaze of Jeff. He had a sad smile on his face as he began to speak. "What's wrong Y/N/N?"

That's all it took for the dam to break and her body was wracked with sobs. Jeff brought her head towards his chest, burying her face into his shirt as he held her tightly, kissing the crown of her hair and cooing softly, telling her it's okay, that he's there and that he isn't leaving.

She bawled up his shirt tightly into her shaky hands, knuckles turning white, as her body trembled next to his. "wh-why wasn't....I-I-I g-good enough...?" Her voice broken, stuttering and hiccupping through her sentence, choking on her gut wrenching sobs and dry lump in her throat.

His heart broke watching the girl he loved look so fragile and in a state of distraught. He feels a knot in his chest tightening, the guilt that feels taking over. 'If only I had told her, she wouldn't have ended up hurt by him'. He takes fault in not having the courage to tell her his feelings before Justin got to her. If he had, she wouldn't have had her heart broken by some asshole who barely treated her right in the first place.

As he beats and berates his self on the inside, he exudes a strong and calming façade, trying to project any form of happiness on to her in the hopes she finds comfort.

"It's him who wasn't good enough. NEVER say you aren't good enough." She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, shaking her head and sniffling. "Th-then why'd he d-do it...?"

"Because he's a fucking asshole who never deserved you. He could never, in a million years, ever treat you how you rightly deserved to be treated. You're absolutely perfect and it kills me when you belittle yourself like that Y/N.

You're so beautiful. I could travel to any and every place on Earth and I could never find anything more beautiful than you. You're smart, kind, caring, compassionate, kinda a dork but there isn't a single thing I would change about you because I have and always will love you for who you are when you're yourself."

By this point, she's looking up at him with wide eyed, cheeks stained with dry tears, lips parted in shock.

He brings his hand up to reattach to her cheek, cupping it gently as he leans forward, resting his forehead against her, noses lightly touching. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N and I wish you could see just how much."

In a surge of confidence and possibly fear, she closes the gap between them and crashes her lips on to his. She tugs at his shirt to bring him impossibly closer as their lips mould together perfectly. They relish on the feeling of their lips against the other.

All too soon, they reluctantly pull away, the need for oxygen too much. Leaning their foreheads back on to one another's, they heavily pant for breath, staring into each others eyes with what only could be described and love, lust, adoration and awe.

"I love you, Jeff." She whispers breathlessly, afraid that if she spoke any louder, all the air will rush out of her lungs, scared the moment would be over and a harsh reality would crash over her.

"I love you, Y/N." Although, as Jeff whispers just as quietly and just as breathless as her, she smiled at the realisation that this could possibly the beginning of something wonderful.

"I think I may be over him." A chuckle rumbles in Jeff's chest.

"I sure hope so, otherwise this is gonna be really fucking awkward and I didn't even need to Google that to know so." She giggles and projects a beaming smile. "I get that you might still need time but, I'd love if you would be my girlfriend and let me take you out on an actual date?" He smiled sheepishly as he asked.

His sheepish smile soon turned into an over ecstatic grin as she nodded her head furiously at him instantly. She stretched her neck up and kissed his cheek gently then settled back into the couch, snuggling into his side. He smiled down towards her and places a sweet, chaste kiss on her hairline before turning his attention back to the television screen, bringing her closer into his embrace.

Words couldn't truly describe their feelings in the moment but as Y/N and Jeff continued to cuddle, watching The Punisher with cheek splitting grins etched on to their faces, there was a sense of serenity and safety surrounding them. They felt at peace in each others arms.

Happy, content and at peace.

_______________ . . . . . I really hope you like this I mean, it's my third fic so don't expect my ideas or plot to be exceeding your expectations, yanno lmao Any and all constructive criticism is welcomed as always and I really do look forward to hopefully receiving some requests (I may actually know what I'm doing then) If you enjoyed this, please don't forget to press that lil like button as it could really help me out :D

[marvelousstevetony]

Can you make this with sick Steve “Can you pronounce anything correctly right now?” “Ndo. *sniff* See???”

Eeep, so sweet! Pls imagine this in a non-powered au with professor!Steve and Tony who has his Stark Industries work thingie💖

Between meetings that have run too long and several overdue deadlines that he finally caught up with, Tony is more than ready to declare it the end of his work week even though it’s only Thursday.  Pepper had shot him one glance and nearly winced at how exhausted he had looked after that last meeting and then decided to let him off until Monday.

And for that, Tony is truly grateful, because it means that he can have a lie in the next morning. It subsequently means that he will be fully energized for date night with Steve tomorrow evening and not have a million things hanging over his head, distracting him from spending time with his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever.

While Tony has been caught up in business with Stark Industries, Steve has spent the majority of every day, and probably most nights, too, grading his students’ assignments or preparing for his lectures, and from what Tony has been able to detect through Steve’s texts, he’s just about as ready for the weekend as Tony is.

***

The next morning, Tony wakes up late, as expected. What is the point of having a day off if you can’t sleep until noon anyways?

He checks his phone first thing and is excited to see a text from Steve. His excitement plummets when he reads it, though.

Hey, Tony. I think I’m gonna need a rain check for tonight. I’ve come down with something and I don’t want you catching this. I was really looking forward to seeing you, though… miss you.

Tony’s heart sinks a little in sympathy, but also because he really misses Steve. They haven’t seen each other all week. Tony can’t even remember the last time they spent more than three days apart, but they’ve both been so busy with work that they didn’t have the time. Hence they had planned date night once both of them were off work.

Aww, I’m sorry you’re feeling bad, baby. I miss you too. So much. We don’t have to go out, though, we can just stay at yours and eat take out and watch movies. I won’t even tease you when you inevitably fall asleep on me half way through.

Tony sends the message and gets a reply less than two minutes after.

First of all, I don’t fall asleep on you. Secondly, you really don’t have to come. Not that I don’t want you here, I do, but I’m pretty gross and 100% contagious. Trust me, you don’t want this.

Tony can’t help but smile to himself as he imagines Steve curled up on his couch, wrapped in a million blankets, blonde hair all messy and disheveled and his nose and cheeks flushed pink. How could Steve think he would ever want not to be with him when he’s like that?

I don’t mind, Steve. I miss you and I want you to feel better. I’m coming over, okay?

You do fall asleep on me, by the way, but I’ll pretend you don’t since you’re sick.

Placing his phone on the beside table, Tony gets up and immediately starts pulling his clothes on. He’ll need to go the store to grab a few things before heading to Steve’s place, like the super soft tissues Steve never buys for himself, and probably some more tea as well.

Tony is just about to leave his apartment when Steve responds after a couple minutes of silence.

Okay. Thank you, Tony. I love you.

Warmth flooding in his chest, Tony types out a quick reply before turning the door knob and going out the door.

I love you. Leaving now, see you in a bit.

***

Tony doesn’t even bother knocking as he lets himself into Steve’s apartment. It’s basically his apartment as much as it’s Steve’s, really, if you look at how much time he spends there in comparison to his penthouse.

It’s not that he doesn’t like his own place, because he does. It’s luxurious, it gets cleaned twice a week, and it’s large enough to fit all of Tony’s crap, which is objectively a lot.

Steve’s apartment is different. It’s smaller, and older, and could definitely use an overhaul in a few places, but it exudes warmth and comfort and feels homey in a way Tony’s place at the tower never could, which is probably why they spend most of their time at Steve’s.

Sometimes Tony wonders why they haven’t moved in together after being together for nearly three years, but maybe they’re just not there yet. And it’s not like it would change a whole lot, honestly. The only time they spent apart is on weeks like this one where both of them are too busy and caught up in their own things that neither of them have the time to make the short trip from Manhattan to Brooklyn.

Tony knows that he wants to, though. He wants to move in with Steve. Or have Steve move in with him. But that’s a minor detail and doesn’t really matter to Tony. What does matter, though, is that Tony won’t ever have to say goodbye to Steve when he goes back to the tower, and that he gets to slip into bed next to Steve every night regardless of their schedules.

And if they lived together, Tony wouldn’t have to rush from his place to Steve’s to take care of him when he’s sick either, because he’d already be there. Anyway, that’s a discussion for another time. Right now, Tony has other things he needs to take care of. Steve, for one.

Tony toes off his shoes and pads into the kitchen, setting the shopping bags on the counter. He might’ve gone a bit overboard and bought an excessive amount of sick-person-things, but Tony has never claimed not to be over the top, especially when it comes to Steve.

From the kitchen, he can hear the tv playing in the living room room, along with a series of incessant sniffles, and Tony figures Steve has already reached the end of his tissue supply. He grabs a box of Kleenex and heads towards the living room where he finds his boyfriend huddled up on the couch.

An empty mug and countless crumpled tissues litter the coffee table, some are on the floor, too, and Tony instantly thinks it looks like every episode of every bad sit-com he’s ever seen where one of the characters is sick. In the center of it all is Steve, who now has his face buried in the crook of his elbow, eyes narrowed into slits, his expression twisted into an anticipatory frown as his breath wavers. After a few seconds, his eyes close fully and he gives into the rush over sneezes.

“ehhCHshoo! H’uhh—uh! chuh’SHhoo! ehh… EISHhh’oo!”

The last sneeze of the triple is strong enough that Steve’s body snaps slightly forward with it, shoulders visibly tensing.

“Looks like you could use these,” Tony announces his presence, waving the Kleenex in the air, and goes to sit next to Steve on the couch, then drops the fresh box of tissues into Steve’s lap. “Bless you, sweetheart.”

Steve still looks a little taken aback by the sneezes and blinks at Tony a few times to clear away the woozy feeling. When he still hasn’t moved after a few seconds, Tony reaches to pull out a few tissues and hands them to Steve.

“Oh, umb… snff! Hey, Tody… snffSNF! Thangks,” Steve says thickly as he accepts the handful of tissues. “I didn’ evend hear you ged id.”

Tony flashes him a soft smile as he brushes a few strands of blonde hair away from Steve’s forehead. “Yeah, you’re probably all bunged up, hm?”

And he really is. His voice has gone all low and he sounds like he’s breathing through concrete. His nose almost looks swollen, too, what with all the congestion that seems to have settled in his head.

Steve sighs stuffily and nods a little. “Yeah, I’mb, uh… snf! snf! oh, ‘scuse m-mbe— huhh-CHshoo! eiiSHH’uhh!”

Sniffling does nothing to stop the tickle from building, in fact, it just coaxes it out. Steve catches the sneezes in the tissues, both hands steepled over his nose and mouth. He gives an experimental blow afterwards, but that just makes him cough, and he gives a few congested snuffles, then coughs some more.

“S-sorry,” he sighs when Tony blesses him and gives him a concerned look. “I’ve beed sndeezing— SNF! all day, ad I’mb… snf! ugh… I’mb jusd so gross.” Steve looks close to a pout, but he can’t keep his mouth closed for more than a few seconds since his nasal airways are completely blocked and impenetrable.

Tony’s worried frown just deepens. “You sound so sick, honey,” he mumbles, brushing a finger across Steve’s nose, putting a light pressure on the maxillary sinus, then strokes it with his thumb. “Can you pronounce anything correctly tight now?” he asks, only half joking.

It makes Steve chuckle, though, a husky, low sound, but it makes his eyes go soft, and Tony feels himself melt a little.

“Ndo,” Steve replies, proving his point and sniffles again. “See? SNFF!”

Tony can only smile at the self-deprecating tone to Steve’s voice and the bashful expression that crosses his face. His already pink cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and the smile he gives Tony is bordering on shy. Blue eyes are fully fixed on brown, and despite the glazed look to them, there’s still that distinct sparkle that always appears when he looks at Tony.

After a few seconds of intensely gazing into each other’s eyes, Steve ducks his head and looks away. “Stop,” he laughs when he looks back up to find Tony still staring at him.

“Stop what?”

“I doad snfSNF! kndow… You’re mbaking mbe nervous,” Steve says, rubbing his neck and smiling sweetly. Then, suddenly, Steve wrinkles his nose, his entire face scrunching up in irritation. He scrubs his nose against the back of his wrist before quickly bringing the rest of his arm closer to his face. “h’h’uhh! huhESCHhiiew! snffSnff!”

“God bless you, Steve…” Inching closer, Tony drops a kiss to Steve’s cheek. It’s a little warm, but nothing too bad, at least not yet. This close, he can see how the hairs on Steve’s neck raise as he places another peck on his jaw.

“Just relax, okay?” Tony whispers, and Steve hums contently in reply. “I missed you,” he adds, just because he hasn’t told him in person yet. Somehow, it feels like a confession.

“I missed you, too.” Steve grabs Tony’s hand, linking their fingers together and giving it a tight squeeze.

“I know it’s barely been a week, but I really hate not seeing you every day.”

“I kndow… mbe too,” Steve admits and catches his bottom lip between his teeth. He almost looks uncertain for a second, but then he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “What if you just… stayed? Here. With me.”

Steve looks a little nervous again, watching Tony’s reaction closely.

And, to be honest, Tony’s nervous, too, all of a sudden. “You mean…?” Tony starts, dumbfounded and eyes wide. Steve’s nodding. Tony swallows around the lump in his throat. “Are you— are you sure?”

“I mbean, you basically live here already. And… sniff! It would be nice. Not having to miss you.”

“Steve…” Tony breathes.

“We don’t have to stay here either… we could… snf! We could stay at the tower, or find somewhere else. Not that— I mbean, if you snf! don’t want to, that’s… that’s fine t—“

“Steve,” Tony repeats, this time more confident. “Yes. Yes, I want to stay here. With you.” Tony’s tone is level as he answers. He doesn’t recall ever being so sure of anything, apart from the fact that he loves Steve above everything else.

“Oh,” Steve says and lets out a relieved chuckle. “Thad’s… great. Amazing, even. I-I’mb…”

“Yeah, me too,” Tony says and leans in to brush his lips over Steve’s. “But let’s celebrate later, okay? Right now, you’re having tea and medicine, and then we’ll put on a movie so you can fall asleep on me.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “I don’t fall asleep on you.”

“Oh, yes you do.”

[angelthebedsheet]

“unprepared”

midoriya izuku x reader

x gender neutral reader

a/n: needed the creative juices to get flowing so i can try my best to update. been in love with genshin. kaeya and lisa i am in love with you. your quirk is not specified!! 

q/n = quirk name

contains kissing, whole lotta fluff shit, emotions, loving midoriya hour!!!

—————————-—————————————————

There were many things Izuku was and unprepared was rarely one of them. He was always at least 3 steps ahead. That is until he got with you.

He was unprepared from the first day he met you. Starry eyes gazing upon your curly hair and s/c skin that looked more vibrant under the sun. He was unprepared to even hear your lips part to utter an introduction to him. To hear you greet him every morning or chirp his name through the phone. He was even more unprepared to fall in love with you.

He was unprepared for you to become his significant other. Someone who’s supposed to love and care for him and was unprepared when you genuinely wanted to be him. He wouldn’t lie about it. He isn’t the most confident person you can meet. The years of bullying he faced ever since Bakugo manifested a quirk and he didn’t make his confidence take massive blows. Bakugo’s quirk included. He was surprised when you were so adamant on hyping him up every second you could and the fact you didn’t let him become self-deprecating.

“I-It wasn’t that great, Y/N. I’ve done better and I feel like I’ve failed others like usual.” Midoriya stuttered as he looked at his scarred hands. The same hands that were once smooth were covered in what he called his mistakes. You gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head up so you could see his emerald eyes that always had that child-like glimmer of wonder and curiosity in them. “All that matters is that you did your best in the current moment. As a hero, you aren’t always going to be able to do things how you wish you could. The only thing that makes is if you put as much effort and passion into this. Don’t belittle your efforts, Izu. You amaze everyone. Me included. You try your best to handle these battles even though you’re still learning how to control your quirk.” You said softly as you looked into his eyes. You moved your hand to gently hold his cheek. You watched as his eyes glossed over, bottom lip slightly quivering. He leaned into your touch as he gently held your wrist.

“That’s admirable, Izuku. You win some and lose some. Just know I’ll always be here you be your little cheerleader. Know that there’s always going to be someone out there who’s proud of you no matter what you do.” You said, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with your thumb and pressing a kiss to his forehead

He truly wasn’t prepared for your constant gestures of love and affection. From the surprise teasing kisses.

You tapped his shoulder. Midoriya hummed and looked up from his homework to be met with your lips pressed against his. He slightly gasped before his eyes fluttered close, face heating up. Just as he was about to cup your cheek, you pulled away, causing him to slightly huff from the lost of contact. “What was that for?” He mumbled with a furrowed pout. You cheekily smiled before patting his cheek. “Just because.” You said, turning back to look down at your worksheet. Purposely ignoring the slight pout on Midoriya’s face before he quickly huffed, now distracted from his homework.

To the meaningful kisses during late nights where you would just let him rant while you helped combed out the daily tangles from his curly hair.

“And it’s just hard with all this stress on me.” He mumbled, wincing at the feeling of you combing out his tangled ends. “Sorry Zuzu— But I understand. Well, not how you exactly feel but I understand what you mean.” You said, softly as you sprayed some leave in conditioner in his hair. “No, no, I get it. I just wish I didn’t have all this pressure on me sometimes. But it’s mandatory especially with All Might trusting me, so I’ll just have to work harder.” Midoriya said, making you furrow your eyebrows. “Anht. Izuku, you deserve a break.” You said. He turned to look back at you as if you had just told him, you didn’t really like All Might. (Although, that statement was true you would never tell him that. It’s a secret you’d take to the grave. You had a small personal vendetta against the abnormally sickly tall man that could barely last a couple minutes without hacking up blood into a handkerchief.)

“Take a break? B-But I can—“

“Says who? Yeah you may be in the hero course, have a powerful quirk, and All Might of all people being your mentor. But, you still need a break. We’re all teens. We need to have fun and let loose.”

“I....”

“So after this I’m twisting your hair up, putting on your bonnet, and we’re gonna have a free day tomorrow.”

“Baby I appreciate it but—“ You cut him off. “I never said this was an offer. We’re doing it. Tomorrow’s Saturday and you need the break more than anyone. You always push yourself past your limits and go above and beyond. As a hero, you can’t always work to make sure everyone’s safe but yourself. You need to be selfish and here’s one of the times.” You said, cupping his cheek. His bottom lip quivered as he quickly sat up on his knees to press a kiss against your plush lips. He held onto your knees to push the kiss deeper. You only dropped the comb and slid your arms around his neck. He smiled against your lips and stood up. You pulled him down on the bed and lightly chuckled. He smiled wider and rested his forehead against yours, ignoring the tears that pricked his eyes from how loved he felt.

He was unprepared when you leaped into battle immediately, taking a hit that was meant for him. 

Your eyes widened as you looked over at Izuku who was currently giving his all, using OFA against a villain. You ran as fast as you could, determined to protect him as you noticed something he didn’t. The villain had an extra move up their sleeve that would be a painful hit on Izuku. It would take longer for him to heal in the current vulnerable state he was already in. He didn’t deserve to be the main target majority of the time he was just trying to get an education. Everyone else were already working hard to take down the remaining villains and you’d be damned if you let Izuku end up in the hospital again. Activating q/n, using it to your advantage, you propelled yourself to yank an unsuspecting Izuku out of the way. Two different yelps were let out. 

Your yelp of pain as the villain’s powered up fist collided against your side, sending you tumbling back and Izuku’s yelp of surprise as he had stumbled back from the force you have previously used to pull him back. He quickly snapped out his confused state to make a mad dash towards your body that was hunched over, cradling your side. He slid on his knees, not caring if he scuffed them up, and gently held you. “Baby. Baby, hey hey, open your eyes.” He exclaimed, panicked. You winced as you pried one eye open. “’zuku?” You grunted out. “W-We’re- I’m gonna move you out of here.” He said as he gently scooped you up in his arms. “B-But you have to fig-” You were interrupted by his stern voice. “You’re more important!” He exclaimed before running off, using OFA to make himself quicker. 

The quick and short trip to your safety went by in a blur as you faded in and out due to the immense pain you felt in your side. You were soon laid down against something firm. You didn’t bother to even look as it hurt to voice any snarky comebacks you had. “L-Let me see.” Izuku voiced out, shakily. “Huh?” You winced. “Let me see how bad it is. May I?” He said, not even looking anywhere but your side. You only nodded as you felt his rough hands delicately remove your hero suit as if he was unboxing a glass figurine. His breath hitched as he looked at the blooming bruise on your side that was almost too painful for him to look at. “W-Why would you take that hit for me?” He whimpered as he lightly grazed his gloved fingers across the bruise so lightly it was like he never even touched it in the first place.

 “Because I hate how much you go to the hospital-” You hissed as you slowly adjusted yourself. “-just for using your quirk so much. If you had taken that hit, it would’ve much worse for you. You didn’t even notice that move before I stepped in. I want to protect you as much as you protect me.” You mumbled. Izuku’s casted a shadow over his eyes as he let your words soak in. You watched as green lightning crackled around him. “I’ll get someone to watch you. I’m gonna go get that villain.” He said as he leaned in to press a kiss upon your lips. You kissed back as much as the pain in your side let you. He pulled back and you caressed his cheek. “Give em hell, Zuku. Go beat their ass for me.” You said before he nodded and ran off. He was filled with rage as he ran back into the field. He was a man on a mission and nobody was get in his way. Unless, they wanted to catch his fists. Literally.

He was unprepared for the stupid little things you’d whisper late at night just to get an amusing reaction out of him. 

“You know, All Might’s kinda hot.” You whispered, earning a bewildered snort from Izuku. “I’m sorry, what?” He whisper shouted as he shot up to look at you. You snickered behind your hand as you slowly sat up. “I’m joking, Zu!” You giggled out. He groaned and grabbed a pillow to gently hit you in the face with. “That’s gross!” He whined. “What you telling me you never went on Wattpad and searched up All Might x Readers?” You whispered, deadpanned. Izuku went silent as he looked away. “Wait you deadass?” You exclaimed. He shushed you as he wacked you in the face with the pillow. You started laughing as he whisper shouted. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He repeated as he kept hitting you with the pillow. 

But, he was fully prepared to love you unconditionally.

He kneeled down, opening a small black box, revealing the ring you always stared at with sparkling eyes. “Will you marry me?” He said as he looked up at you with watery eyes.

[stubbychaos]

Let These Words Set You Free

Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.

Rating: T 

Word Count: 7,900

Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3

You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.

Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.

You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--

Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.

As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain. 

You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you. 

The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.

Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.

You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.

“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”

You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.

You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”

Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.

Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.

“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”

You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”

He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”

“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.

Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”

“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”

The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”

Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.

“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”

“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.

For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.

“I could only wish to be better.”

His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.

It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.

The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.

"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."

“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”

“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”

“How long has it been?”

His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”

The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.

He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”

“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.

He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”

‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’

You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.

“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”

“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”

“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”

“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”

You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.

Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.

“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”

He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”

“M-May I ask why?”

His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”

“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”

He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.

You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.

He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."

You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.

"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.

"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."

You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.

"About what?"

He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.

 "I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."

Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.

"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."

You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation. 

You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.

It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.

“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”

You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.

“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”

You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.

“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”

“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”

Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”

“And I am not that kind of man.”

“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”

“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.

“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”

“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”

“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”

Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”

The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.

“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”

“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”

With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.

“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”

You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.

“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”

“But your helmet--your creed?”

“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”

You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.

A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.

He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction. 

After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.

“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”

“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”

The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.

You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.

“What if he--?”

“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”

“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”

You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”

“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”

“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”

“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”

You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.

“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”

“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”

Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.

“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”

He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh. 

A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.

“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”

His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”

You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.

“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."

“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”

He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.

For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.

You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.

“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”

“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.”

“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”

“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.

“Even your name?”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”

The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.

You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.

His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.

“Paz.”

His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.

Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.

"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself,  "Paz. I… think it suits you."

He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"

You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”

“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”

Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”

Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.

Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.

“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”

You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”

“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.

“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”

He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”

“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”

“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.

“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”

Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions. 

“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”

“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”

He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.

You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.

“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”

“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”

“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”

You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.

“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”

You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.

Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.

You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--

The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.

Ner= My, mine

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Saviin=Violet

Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*:  @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok​

[nagitolovebug]

How did komahina co-parent at first? How was hajimes reaction to the twins? Did bebi like getting siblings

komahina's co-parenting at first was...definitely an Ordeal. not even because of bebi, but bc komahina is a mess. originally hajime was very insecure about his role in bebi's life, as he had very clearly asserted himself as a separate person from izuru and that he was going to live as hajime and not someone else- so wouldn't that make bebi Not his kid? sure, they're his genetically, but in theory.... that was the dilemma he dealt with. he'd already grown attached to them when he was caring for them while nagito was still in a coma and worries now that nagito has woken up, his job is done, and that nagito won't want him around bebi anymore. in turn, nagito is worried that bc hajime is asserting himself as separate from izuru that he doesn't see bebi as his kid and will not be interested in raising them, that bebi will lose their father and nagito will lose his once-husband (lurking somewhere in hajime's subconscious...) turned best friend. they live together right off the bat, sleeping in the same bed (bebi likes to be held by the 2 of them to fall asleep...but even when bebi sleeps in their own bed they didn't think to get separate bedrooms or anything...) and end up becoming very.....affectionate with one another despite their claims that they're purely platonic. they "platonically" hold hands, cuddle, kiss, kiss, and more...intimate things in the cover of night ;) nagito's convinced hajime is just "using him for stress relief" and he's only truly staying bc he'd feel guilty leaving bebi. hajime thinks they're together. this miscommunication is not truly cleared up until hajime proposes. other than that, they both love bebi very very much and spend all their time with bebi, doting on them, playing with them, caring for them.

as for hajime's reaction to the twins- that in itself was also an Ordeal! when nagito found out he was pregnant again, bebi was very sick and in the hospital, which was very hard on nagito as he blamed himself. and he had resigned himself to leaving bebi and hajime, thinking they'd be safer without him in their lives. hajime was an adult who was fully informed of the danger of nagito's luck and had izuru's luck to protect him ! but bebi couldn't consent to that. he did not want to risk hurting his child in any capacity. so he resigned himself to leaving...but the news of pregnancy only devastated him further. to think he'd ruin not only bebi and hajime's lives but the life of another baby (not knowing it was twins lol)....it was too much for him. the plan was to leave the island, suffer through the pregnancy by himself, and come back after the birth to drop their new baby off before disappearing forever.

trans male pregnancy under the cut

bc nagito's carrying twins, the toll on his body during this pregnancy is far worse than it was during despair. he becomes very weak and sickly, especially with the added stress and despair of trying to leave his 'best friend' and kid, his kid being in the hospital,,, he hasn't been taking care of himself. the night bebi returns from the hospital (fully recovered! ...but having finally fully lost their vision in their right eye), hajime catches nagito trying to leave. he'd collapsed on his way out, having gotten incredibly dizzy. he'd left nothing but a note on the nightstand reading, "Be back soon." hajime wakes up to an empty bed and almost (almost) panics, steadies his breaths to the small snores of a sleeping baby in a nearby crib. he finds nagito half unconscious on the beach slumped on a duffel bag. "nagito??? nagito???? nagito!!! oh, thank god" "h...inata-kun?" "yea, it's me, come on, let's get you-" and nagitos eyes clear up and he shoves hajime away. "nagito-?" "stay away from me!" "nagito, you're not in your right mind, let's go back to the cabin-" "...how did you find me." "well, I found your note, which scared me shitless- I had no idea where you were or what had happened to you and frankly, I'm pretty pissed about that, but that can wait until I know you're safe-" "I'm so sorry, hinata-kun, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry, hinata-kun, hinata-kun, hinata-kun-" "jeez, I said you can call me hajime... it's alright, relax, i'm not really mad. I was just worried." "you don't understand, you have to get away from me now-" "what are you even doing out here. what's with the bag" "hinata-kun." "....where were you going" "I hadn't decided yet" "why" "I-" "just bc you're in remission, you think you can just do whatever you want? what if something happened to you? goddamn it, you're not bullet proof, nagito! I know you're working on it, I know you're trying, but fuck you're so goddamn selfish! people care about you! I care about you! why can't you just understand that!" "i won't let myself hurt you!" "you're hurting me now!" "this will ruin your life, i will ruin your life-" "im your fucking....best friend, just tell me what's wrong, i can help you-" "nobody can help me, it's too late for me..." "goddamn it, nagito, please-!" and nagitos voice breaks when he whispers. "...i'm pregnant" ".......what" and nagito breaks into a quiet sob "I'm pregnant, hajime, and no one else on this island would dare defile themselves with me the way you have..." "are you serious?" "please don't make me say it again" and maybe if nagito weren't lost in a spiral of self deprecation and if his eyes weren't swimming with tears, he would've seen the nervous smile that broke out on hajime's face, the joy in his voice. "nagito, that's-!" "horrible? disgusting? i know I'm an abomination, hajime, maybe if my pathetic body functioned the way it was meant to-" "don't say that. don't you ever say that" "please just leave..." "you...you were pregnant with our kid and you were gonna leave??? what if you relapsed? what if you needed me?" hajime grabbed his face and forced nagito to look at him. "why are you doing this?" nagito laughed breathlessly, hysterically. "don't worry, hinata-kun, i would have brought them back! i simply didnt want to force you through the despair of having someone as putrid as me being pregnant, knowing that you've procreated with the lowest scum of the earth....surely it would ruin you. besides, i could never take your child from their father. nor would i subject them to my luck...will you let me go now, knowing your child will be alright" "they're your kid too" "for the sake of their sanity I'd rather keep that to myself" hajime steeled his expression, then grabbed Nagito's wrist. "we're going back to the cabin. we'll talk more in the morning." "Hinata-kun, let go of me." "nagito, let's go." "hinata, let go" "I'm not leaving you out here" nagito starts tearing up again and scratching frantically at his own skin. "please" "we're leaving." and hajime picks nagito up (he was

probably still too dizzy to walk anyway). but nagito starts screaming and thrashing and crying and weakly hitting hajime. "LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GO, IM GONNA HURT YOU, IM GONNA KILL YOU, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE-" and hajime starts silently crying too but he just holds on tighter and keeps walking. i think they get to the cabin and hajime sets him down on the bed and nagito starts punching hajimes chest (not hard) but hajime just grabs his wrists and holds them tight as nagito struggles and cries softly. "i ruined your life..me and this broken body of mine." "i...love you. you're not broken. I'm not leaving and neither are you." "i hate you..." "you're the best thing that ever happened to me." "I'll kill you..." "you won't." "why won't you just leave.." "why won't you stay." "..." "lets go to bed. we'll see mikan in the morning. get some rest." nagito is still scratching at his skin when hajime pulls him against his chest and forces nagito to lay down with him. "i love you" "im scared..." "i know" "im so sorry.." "i know. it's ok" "it's not" "as long as you're still with me, it is." "you're too kind to me.." "i love you." "how many times are you going to say that." "as many times as it takes for you to believe it." and the conversation pitters off as nagito silently sobs into hajime's chest until he passes out while Hajime rubs small circles into his back and presses kisses to his head. nagito wakes up with his eyes swollen face still tucked into Hajime's chest and he knows hajime's awake bc he can feel his chest vibrating with light hums and soft strokes to his hair. nagito looks up and licks his lips, eyes watering again when he sees hajime's patient gaze, his eyes crinkling in a worried smile, extenuating the eyebags and evident exhaustion. "hinata-kun, i'm so s-" "shhh. none of that. we're seeing mikan in a bit, i already called her. i'm sorry for not noticing what was going on. it must have been so hard dealing with this alone.." "you shouldn't have to deal with it.." "i want to. i love you. we're in this together. for as long as you'll have me. it's hard, it's really hard sometimes, because i hate seeing you like this..it makes me feel so helpless it reminds me of-- the. program. but it's worth it. for you, it's always worth it." "hinata..." "keep resting. don't strain yourself too much." "i love you...i love you..i love you ..." "i know." going to see mikan and mikan warns them that Yes nagito is in fact pregnant and the fact that he's just come off of chemo and is still in remission is gonna make the pregnancy tough on him physically and that he's gonna get about as sick as he was before but promises it's temporary and that she guarantees he'll see the baby to full term ("link that's medically incorrect" idc link does what he wants Hajime has a dude put in his head via lobotomy science is a liar sometimes) and hajime holds nagito's hand the entire time and presses a kiss to his cheek when he cries a little when mikan says the baby will be healthy and ok and survive and nagito turns to him and gives him a watery smile before laughing and crying joyously a little more and thats when hajime knows they'll be ok. they do talk more abt this whole thing, nagito's motives, bebi,,,,but that's like a 1k fic and this post is alr long enough 😅maybe i'll polish it and make it a fic. long story short, hajime's personally extremely happy that nagito's pregnant, but his worry over nagito's health as a whole, physical and mental kinda trumped that but past that- it's nothing but excitement! (they did not know they were having twins...so excitement and a surprise!) as for bebi, they were very happy to be getting a sibling! they love mimicking everyone they see by talking to their papa's tummy, touching it, generally babbling to komahina how they're gonna share their toys with the baby, will the baby play with them, can they share a room? they always want more love in their life !