#fuck being frozen fuck dying of hypothermia

[pwurrz]

2 years ago it took me a solid 6 months of grinding, preparation, character building (and putting it off) before i reached the summit of dragonspine. and that was all because of the stupid time trial challenge at the bottom of the cave. today, it only took me a few hours to complete the entire world quest from start to finish. i’ve dedicated so much time to genshin i’m kind of having a crisis about it

[moonlight-prose]

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt  in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

[cuubism]

Hey I love your work so much, I just have a quick question to pick at that phenomenal brain of yours.

So this is WHUMP!Hob because my heart aches for this little man and I love him but I also want to see him go through the horrors.

Did any of us ever imagine what it’d be like if Hob had been on the Titanic? Not like an AU where Hob and Dream are Jack and Rose, but like canon universe.

What if Hob was on the Titanic when it sank??

I don’t think he’d get on the lifeboat because:

1) He’s Hob,our beautiful, lovable, self-sacrificing pillock that now holds all life over his own. If he can save just one more person, if one more live can be saved if he doesn’t get on that boat.

(He’d probably rag other men off the lifeboats too to make room let’s not gaff.)

2) He knows he’ll survive underneath it all. The stress and fear around him would probably get to him so much that it wouldn’t be the first thing he thought of (I mean that’s my person opinion because the titanic obviously was a mortifying experience)

3) He would leave the lifeboats to go below deck and literally deck the workers locking the lower class people under and to their deaths. He would 10000% break every gate and door he could find to free those trapped.

If he can survive drowning, then he’s going to hold his breath as long as possible to help those he can.

But then imagine him after the boat has gone under. After the lifeboats have abandoned those they couldn’t carry.

He’d be floating there hearing the screams of people around him and long after that, when he’s frozen and stuff, he’s drowned twice and come back, and latched onto an empty life jacket that he doesn’t want to think of why it was empty, and he’s just floating there.

And then he hears a whistle. Rose has been saved and he is found too, and he survives of course.

Imagine Dream finding out about this. It happened roughly 2 decades after their last meeting, where Hob thinks he screwed it all up.

He wanted an escape after it happened and then this cruise ship came along with promise of being unsinkable, and to an immortal man who sees the wonder of life, isn’t that bloody brilliant??

And then it turns into one of his reoccurring nightmares for decades, nay centuries to come.

How would Dream react to that?

—

I just think you could do more with this than I could, you know?

You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, I understand that some people tend to avoid asks/promos like these and if so, I completely understand! It’s just been in my brain for a while now.

So so sorry this is so long and badly written, I didn’t know how to phrase it.

Again, I LOVE your work, keep it up! Take a break when and if you need and I hope you have an amazing day/night wherever and whenever you read this!

<3 Meema

You have such a more generous interpretation of Hob's personality than I do, because my first impulse was "Hob is the ultimate survivalist and would definitely push somebody off the lifeboat" 😂. Then again, this is also in his post-1889 era which is the first era where it seems like he cared about or was trying to be a better person, so maybe not. Maybe he'd only push assholes off the lifeboat and not just anybody 😂

I could see Hob going on the Titanic though, he was involved in the ship-building business for a while so I can see him hearing about it being 'unsinkable' and being like hmmm bet. Anything for a new experience, etc.

Then it's sinking of course and he's like mmm fuck I can't die but I'm in the middle of the goddamn ocean. He does need to get on some lifeboat or something because even if he can't actually die of drowning he also can't swim hundreds and hundreds of miles to shore, he'll just be trapped out there or stuck in a cycle of dying from hypothermia and reviving for god knows how long. I doubt drowning is something Hob particularly wants to experience again anyway.

I really enjoy your kind Hob who wants to help people, I'm sorry that my mental image of Hob is hitting somebody in the head with an oar instead 😂 or at least, wanting to hit somebody with an oar, thinking back on his stranger saying 'you've changed,' dropping the oar with gritted teeth... XD Being a better person is hard-won and hard-learned for Hob, I think.

thank you for sending me the story 🥰

[smallestapplin]

:O other people like Ice-type Red! Yay!!! I've had that bc for a while now and it's fun to see others talking about it!! Fav head canon right there!! Him being specifically related to Glalie is super cool!

I have my own hcs I wanna share :)

When Red leaves his mountain, or goes anywhere warm, he begins to "sweat out" his cold resistance. In reality his body isn't use to having to regulate his body temperature to keep him from over heating, so he's really building up his heat resistant (I think it would be funny if he never noticed it was the other way around. It's normal not to get cold in the winter right?)

Lapris noticed immediately and constantly tried to baby Red before he was aware. Constantly, and I mean constantly giving the child ice to nom on. Red really appreciated the free food

Larpis failed to inform Red about this. Larpis thought he knew, he did not

Red can subsist off of ice. Like he can just eat ice and it will make him less hungry. This is what eventually made him realize his ice-type thing going on. All his other Pokemon, especially Snorlax, are deeply worried and confused when he eats ice as a meal. Stop!! That!! It's probably not good for you!! Eat some real food!! Larpis, however, approves

Red's mom used to take ice away from him because eating ice is supposed to be bad for you, but the doctors noticed that no matter how much ice Red are his teeth weren't damaged. She thought he had an iron deficiency for the longest time, as ice chewing is a symptom of that

The fact that he was able to walk up Mt Sliver in shorts and a t-shirt should of been the thing that tipped him off, but being a Pokemon master never afforded him critical thinking skills

By the time he's in Aloa he has near perfect control of his ice-type powers. Blue uses him as a cold pack fucking constantly. Tho in the hotter months he sometimes takes ice baths to deal with the overwhelming heat when he can't on his own

Red is very curious as to why he's only see psychic and ghost trainers show off their abilities and types. I feel like he'd wonder if the buff fighting type trainers were fighting types themselves. He and Pikachu get into a long argument about this, later he probably argues about this with the researcher as well

Red's body temperature has been steadily dropping as he's gotten older. Less to do with aging, and more to do with being in his element. Before he went to Mt Sliver he was just slightly colder than the average person, a chill baby if you will, nothing weird here. During Mt Sliver his body temperature is so low he should of died from hypothermia at least five times now. After Mt Sliver hes more chilly to the touch

Charizard is very annoyed that Blastoise and Lapris get most of the cuddle time, but also doesn't want Red putting his cold feet on Charizard's tail so cuddling with Snorlax will have to do

Yes, Red does sometimes sleep in Lapris's pool. It's nice in there and Venusaur can stop warbling about the likelihood of him drowning. He's fineeee

Yes, Pikachu does brag to Charizard about having fur

Lapris eventually teaches Red how to do some Ice type moves (local couch sealing researcher is dying to know if Red can only remember the same amount of moves as a Pokemon, or a different amount)

You think Red would feel a vibe coming from Glalitite bc he's part Glalie? If so the researcher would likely ask him if he can mega evolve. The question is so confusing that Red just wanders out into the snow storm to an ice lake where they can't follow to have a small think existential crisis in peace

By the time of Aloa when Red has ""reentered"" society, and by reentered I mean got a higher tolerance for people so was less likely to fuck off to some mountain, he has a habit of buying frozen food and just eating it as is in front for people just to see their reactions. Blue has never hated him this much

Red's typing and part Pokemon status has nothing to do with his ability to understand pokemon and communicate with them. Weirdly enough many psychic trainers struggle with understanding pokemon as much as the average person. That's a different brand of Red weirdness, unconnected to the first one

👀👀👀 goddamn these are amazing.

This was dope to wake up to.

[imagineabuttercream]

Prank Gone Wrong (Jack x Reader)

You'd known Jack Maynard since elementary school, and if you were honest with yourself you'd had a crush on him ever since. You had filmed a messy video for Jack's channel with Josh and thankfully Jack lent you some clothes so you could shower and change out of your sticky ones. You had spent the rest of the night hanging out with the boys and were coming back the next day to film a video for Josh's channel. Unfortunately, you didn't know that you had been caught in the crossfire of a prank war.

Getting ready for bed, Jack brushed his teeth and remembered he had set up a go pro in the bathroom to catch Josh singing in the shower. Grabbing it and reviewing the footage on his mac, he realized that he had caught you in the shower. Jack immediately paused the footage, his hand coming to cover his mouth.

"I can't." he said, running the mouse to the red X to close the window. Staring at the frozen frame of your body on the camera, Jack let his curiosity get the best of him. "Just a second." he said, clicking play. He watched you rinse your hair and caught that you were singing one of his favorite songs, a smile creeping onto his face. "Jack, what the fuck are you doing?" he asked himself, pausing the video again.

He went to close the video and delete the footage, but something caught his eye. You and Jack were the type of friends to tell each other everything, but you had a secret. You had a tattoo between your shoulder blades that you got when your grandma had passed. It was a personal thing that you wanted to keep to yourself, so you never told anyone. Jack played the video, watching for a clearer image of the tattoo.

"Jack!" Josh called, walking into his room.

"It's nothing! I wasn't doing anything." Jack said, slamming his lap top closed and ripping his headphones out of his ears.

"'Cause that doesn't look suspicious as fuck." Josh laughed. "If you're going to watch porn, at least close your door."

"I wasn't. It was....Nevermind. What's up?" Jack replied.

"Y/n is headed back over." Josh said.

"It's nearly 2 in the morning, is she okay?" Jack asked, nervous you would find out what he did.

"The heater in her building is broken and she was coming over in the morning anyways. I told her to pack a bag and she can just crash over here until it's fixed." Josh said, giving Jack a weird look. "Are you alright, mate?"

"Yeah!" he said, his voice cracking. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Yeah. I'm fine. Is she just going to sleep on the couch?"

"I figured she'd bunk with one of us." Josh replied, knowing you had done it before. "Just wanted to give you a heads up. Finish wanking before she gets here. I'd rather not scare her out of the house." Josh said, closing Jack's door.

Jack opened his mac and felt guilty just seeing the video open. "Jack, you're an idiot." he told himself, deleting the footage. He heard the front door open and close. Hoping he wouldn't have to face you tonight, he stayed in his room.

"Thank you." he heard you say to Josh. "It is freezing in my flat."

"Of course. We can't let you freeze." Josh replied, giving you a hug. "Holy shit you're shivering."

"I know. I just need blankets and I'll bundle up on the couch." you said, tucking your hands into your sweater after dropping your bag by the couch.

"Do you just want to share mine?" Josh asked, grabbing your bag.

"Works for me. I warn you, though. I'm a cuddler." you laughed, following Josh to his room. "Jack asleep?" you asked.

"I don't know. He's being weird." Josh replied, setting your bag by his closet.

"That's nothing new." you laughed, crawling into the bed after Josh.

"Holy shit, your feet are cold." Josh squealed.

You laughed, "We've established I'm dying of hypothermia."

"Well that won't do." Josh said, pulling you towards him, making you the little spoon to his big spoon.

"Mmmmm, you're so warm. Thank you." you giggled. "Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight, Frosty." He replied, sending you into another fit of giggles.

Jack finally ventured out into the living room after it got quiet. He didn't see anyone on the couch and your bag was nowhere to be found. He walked down the hall and peeked in Josh's room. Seeing Josh with his arms around you left a weird feeling in his stomach. He didn't like it and he didn't know why.

The next morning Jack was the first to wake and he wasn't too happy about it. He had been up most of the night thinking. First, he had really fucked up and he knew it. The guilt was keeping him on edge. Second, even though he shouldn't know it, he knew you had a tattoo and he was upset you hadn't told him about it before. You guys usually trusted each other with everything. And finally, he couldn't make sense of his feelings. He was upset you had fallen asleep in Josh's arms, but he couldn't figure out why. Deciding to avoid all of it, he grabbed his keys and wallet and left the flat.

Hearing the door slam shut, you woke up. "Josh?" you said, sliding out of bed. "What was that noise?"

"What?" Josh said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Walking out into the flat, you called out for Jack but didn't hear anything. "Hello?"

"He must have left." Josh said, ducking into Jack's room.

"He slammed the door." you said, wondering what was wrong with your friend. *Where'd you go?* you text him, hoping everything was okay. He text back *Just gone for a walk. I'll be back for Josh's video.*

Jack hadn't gone for a walk. Well, unless you count walking straight to MIkey's apartment. "I'm fucked." he said, plopping onto Mikey's bed. Mikey just stared at Jack, half asleep. "I said I'm fucked, mate!" Jack said, flailing around dramatically.

"Jack, what are you talking about?" Mikey said, sitting up in bed.

Jack spent the next 5 minutes explaining everything that had kept him up all night.

"Oi, mate. You're fucked." Mikey said, getting out of bed and pulling black jeans on. "Get up. I need food and coffee."

Sitting in a cafe around the corner, they placed their orders. While Jack was taking a drink of his water, MIkey asked him a question. "Do you think she'll still date you after she knows what you did?"

Jack spit water all over the table and Mikey. "Date her? Why on earth would I want to date her?"

"Mate, why do you think you were so mad when you saw her with Josh?" Lp asked, wiping the water from his jacket and face.

It took jack a minute. "I was probably just mad about. Well, you know. I don't like her. That's stupid. I think I'd know if I liked someone I've known my whole life." Mikey raising his hands in defeat, didn't say anything back.

When jack finally made it back to the flat, you and Josh were already setting up for the video. Trying to act normal, Jack asked, "What are we filming?"

"I figured since we have Y/n here we'd do Never Have I Ever. Conor's working on something upstairs so it's just us." Josh said, adjusting the tripod.

"Perfect. Cool. Works for me." He said, just standing around.

"Hey! You're back!" you said, walking up to Jack and hugging him. "Where'd you go?"

When you hugged Jack he was torn between wishing you hadn't and not wanting to let go. "Breakfast with Mikey."

"Nice. Hope you had a good time." you said, walking over to help Josh.

The first part of the video went fine, but then Josh brought up that you were sleeping in the flat because your heating was out and Jack made a jab at Josh. "I bet you kept her plenty warm, mate." looking upset.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Josh said, giving Jack a questioning look.

"Jack, I would have crashed with you like normal, but you were asleep." you replied.

"Sure, my turn. Never have I ever gotten a tattoo." Jack said, raising his 'I have' paper. You and Josh raised your 'I haven't' papers.

You started next. "Never have I ever..."

Jack laughed, interrupting you. "Never have I ever lied to my best friend." He stared at you, waiting for you to answer. "So you're going to lie about lying now?" He asked, when you didn't answer.

"What are you talking about?" You asked Jack.

"I'm talking about the tattoo between your shoulder blades you never told me about, even though you've gone with me to get every single one of mine." Jack practically yelled, regretting saying anything. If you came clean, he'd have to as well.

"How...How do you even know about that?" You asked, but didn't get a response.

"So you admit it!" He continued raising his voice.

"Jack, stop yelling." Josh stepped in.

"Oh, fuck off, mate. I'm sure she'll crawl back in your bed for comfort." Jack said, regretting every word. He was just digging himself deeper and finally he stood up and walked out of the flat.

You had tears in your eyes, and Josh didn't know what to do. "He's been off since before you came over last night. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"He's right, though. I should have told him." You didn't understand how he knew, but you felt guilty for keeping it from him. You sat there and explained to Josh the whole tattoo and why you got it and kept it a secret. "I hate when he's not okay." You cried, venting. "I know he won't ever return my feelings, but his friendship is important to me." You talked a bit more and then packed up your bag.

"Y/n, please stay here. Your heater won't be fixed for two more days." Josh begged you, not wanting to to be alone or stuck in your freezing flat.

"I'm good, love. Let me know Jack made it home safe, yeah?" You said, heading home.

When Jack came home, Josh cornered him. "What gives, Jack?"

"I screwed up, mate." Jack replied, explaining to Josh what he'd done and how he knew about the tattoo.

"You're an asshole. An even bigger asshole than you think you are." Josh said, going to his room and pulling the SD card from his camera. "Watch this and then make it right." Josh went to his room and closed his door.

Jack pulled up the card on his computer and watched his outburst all over again, cringing and swearing at how stupid he had been. After watching himself storm out, he listened to you explain. And then he listened to you tell Josh that you had feelings for him. Watching how broken he had left you, Jack closed the lap top. Something was clicking in his head. He wanted to be the person that comforted you when you were upset, not the person that left you upset. Grabbing his keys, he stormed out of the flat for the third time in one day.

Jack paced in front of your door for a solid five minutes before he gathered the courage to knock. Opening your door, you were surprised to see Jack. "Come in." You said, stepping aside.

"No." Jack said, standing in your doorway. "You may not want me to come in."

"You're always welcome in my home, Jack." You insisted.

"Not after you hear what I have to say. This seems like a good location in case you want to slam the door in my face." He said, refusing to come in.

"Oooookay." You said, waiting for him to continue.

"First, I have to apologize. Josh and I have been pranking each other and there was a camera set up to catch him singing in the shower. I didn't know you'd be in there." Jack said, waiting for you to understand.

"That sucks, but it's not the end of the world, Jack. Did you delete it?" You replied.

"You're not mad?" He asked.

"Embarrassed, but not mad." You said, cringing thinking about him seeing you in the shower.

"Well there's more." Jack cleared his throat. "First, you have no reason to be embarrassed." Jack said. "Second..."

If he saw enough to compliment you, you realized that he had actually watched the footage. "You didn't just delete it, did you?"

Jack started panicking and he couldn't stop the word vomit "I'm so so sorry, Y/n. I watched it for less than a minute. I swear I didn't watch the whole thing. We've been friends since before we knew we even liked boys or girls and I've never looked at you like that before until it was just sitting in front of me and then I saw your tattoo and I was confused and then I was a little hurt that you kept it a secret because we tell each other everything and then I realized how badly I had fucked up by watching it at all. And then THEN I saw you sleeping in Josh's arms and I wanted to punch him so hard. Y/n, I hated seeing you sleeping in his bed and I didn't understand why but Mikey told me it's because I like you and I accidentally spit water all over him but then I realized he was right. Which made everything so much worse because I had already done something unforgivable and then Josh yelled at me and made me watch the video of what you said after I stormed out like a fucking child and seeing you hurting just killed me....Y/n, I never want to be the person that makes you feel like that....." Jack stood there out of breath and out of words.

"I think I got about half of that." You laughed. "Why did you spit on Mikey?"

"Are you laughing?" He asked, starting to shiver from the total lack of heat in your building.

"What you did was messed up and embarrassing, Jack." you said stepping to the side and telling him to come in.

"I know, love, and I'm so so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you." he said, teeth chattering. "I didn't even think you'd let me inside."

"You didn't let me finish." you said, closing the door. "Recording me was an accident, but you should have deleted it. No one likes feeling exposed." you said, blushing. "I think our friendship is stronger than your dumb mistake, though. I just wish you would have talked to me instead of blowing up on Josh and yelling at me. You were kind of a huge ass hole."

"Will you please forgive me and give me another chance to not fuck this up?" Jack asked.

"Of course, love. I do reserve the right to use Josh to get revenge, though." you laughed.

"That's fair. I'm half naked on the internet already, so I've accepted everyone will eventually see me nude." Jack replied, finally addressing the temperature. "You were not kidding. It's like the arctic in here."

"No shit." you laughed. "Apologize to Josh. And tell him we'll re-film his video tomorrow." You said, walking to the door.

"As if. You're coming with me." he said, grabbing the bag you had dropped at the door.

"You're forgiven, Jack. You don't need to baby me." You said, opening the door.

"No, you don't understand. I didn't get a bit of sleep last night after seeing you in bed with Josh. If you won't come back to mine, then I'm going to slowly freeze to death in yours." Jack said, still holding your bag.

"I still don't get why you got so upset that I bunked with Josh. All three of us have shared a bed before. We're just friends." you said, slipping your shoes on.

"But I didn't feel the way I feel now, y/n." Jack said, realizing you hadn't quite caught the point of all of this. "I don't want to share a bed with my best friend. I want to wake up next to the person I love."

Letting his words from earlier sink in, you shook your head back and forth in disbelief. "Jack Maynard, you are ridiculous. You know that?" you said, closing the distance between you two.

"There's actual proof of that all over the internet, love." Jack chuckled.

Standing up on your toes, you pressed your lips to his. "Also, if I had known that seeing me naked would make you fall in love with me, I would have taken my clothes off years ago." you teased him, walking out of your flat. You could hear him laugh behind you.

"That's not it at all, you freak. Though feel free to exercise your right to be naked any time you like." he joined you, closing your door behind the two of you. "It was seeing you with Josh. It just cleared some things up for me."

"Well now that we're clear, can we please get an Uber back to yours. You made me leave my warm blanket nest." you said, pulling your sleeves over your hands.

When you got back to his flat, Josh was sitting in the living room, doing something on his computer. "I take it you two sorted yourselves out?" he asked.

"I'm going to let you two talk." you said, hugging Josh and making your way to Jack's bed. When he finally joined you, he told you he'd apologized to Josh. "I'm glad." you said, feeling his arms wrap around your middle.

"How long have you felt this way about me? Like how long have I been missing this?" he asked, pulling you tighter to his chest and burying his face in your hair.

"I'm pretty sure I've always felt this way, love." You replied, smiling at how Jack's words slurred a bit when he was tired.

"I'm an idiot." he replied.

"But now you're my idiot." you giggled.

"How do you manage to sound both condescending and proud at the same time?" he laughed.

"Oh, go to sleep, Jack." you replied, still smiling.

"Half way there." he replied, placing a kiss against your hair.

[hunterscoffee]

Frozen Nights

Oneshot Masterlist Black Noir x Reader Warnings: Swearing, Nudity Word Count: 529

Your breath clouded in front of you like you were breathing fire, you stood in a frozen wasteland, sheets of ice stretched as far as you could see and snowflakes fell from the sky, only to be caught in your eyelashes. Your whole body shook and you could see why when you looked down at yourself, you wore nothing. Your bare toes were blue against the ice, the rest of your feet, and whole body for that matter, was a bright red, cheeks blushed against the cold.

“What the fuck?” you muttered to yourself under your breath. Still absolutely mystified as to how you managed to find your way to what looked like Antarctica whilst naked. You had come to terms with your death many times during your employment with Vought, though each time you had thought you were dying for the sake of humanity, now you were just freeing to death. Oh god you hoped no one wrote that on your tombstone, Y/N L/N died of hypothermia whilst naked in the Antarctic. You took a tentative step forward, lightly pressing the pad of your right foot into the ice, as soon as you put weight on that foot the ice cracked. At that moment you had a single thought. Fuck.

You vaulted out of bed. Chest heaving as you glanced around the room. It was indeed freezing, but you were not in Antarctica, which came as a relief to you. A look to your left told you why you had been so cold. Noir lay in bed, completely covered in the pile of blankets that you had sworn you had covered yourself in before you had fallen asleep. He had his back to you, completely silhouetted in the dark room. You took a moment to compose yourself before you crawled across the bed, trying to move over him without waking him up. It was so rare that Noir slept the whole night without being plagued by nightmares or the guilt forced upon him by Vought.

As gently as possible you pulled part of the duvet and blankets off him in order to bury yourself into his warmth. Though you had tried your hardest to be ever so gentle you knew he had been awake since you had woken from your dream. Noir lifted an arm so you could better nestle into him.

“I’m sorry about waking you up.” you murmured.

“Is fine.” came his whispered reply, his voice was thick with sleep, making it even deeper than it normally was. He pulled the duvet over you, then rested his arm over your waist, pulling you further into him. You were already about to fall asleep, the rhythm of his heart a lullaby.

“I love you.” you mumbled, you missed the blush that spread across his face and the smile that lit his face up because you had your face pressed into his chest.

“I love you too, more than you know.” he kissed the top of your head, listening to your breathing even as you fell back asleep. You loved him, he was nothing, barely recognised by most, not even his own person. You loved him.

[whitleyschn33]

Nitpick November: 15

So let’s make this quick!

Yang’s V7 outfit; I hate it! Beyond its mechanic vibe instead of biker girl, beyond its overuse of brown, besides that brown being the ugliest shade of brown to ever exist, it’s horrendous because it is way too fucking cold for Atlas’s climate.

The only elements of this outfit that look good for a tundra are the boots and jacket. The boots are thick and sturdy, good for hiking through snow, it looks like she’s wearing fuzzy socks under them, and the jacket at least looks padded with insulation and has fur around the neck. That’s where the warmth ends, though.

Her overalls look thin and like they’d do a poor job of keeping someone warm, having such a low back, unzipping down the front, and having the option to unzip and unfasten the legs. The fact that Yang refuses to keep the thigh zipped up either makes it look even colder, and makes Yang look like an idiot - why would you willingly uncover yourself in the middle of a frozen wasteland? That desperate to show off to Blake? Then there’s the fact that the only thing she’s wearing underneath the overalls is a flimsy-ass tube top. Her chest is completely exposed, and what parts of it that are covered are covered with such thin fabric that it would do an awful job at actually keeping her warm. Who the hell let her walk out into Atlas dressed like this? XD

I get that Yang is supposed to be the sexy bombshell of the group, but this is just so glaringly impractical for the weather she’s in that it makes it look like Yang should be dying of hypothermia. It wouldn’t have been any trouble to have her wearing a sweater underneath her overalls, and to have her wearing thermal leggings to cover her thigh if she insists on keeping the leg uncovered. She doesn’t have to be constantly flashing her bare cleavage to remind you that she’s the sexy party girl. I realize that I’m a (probably) straight girl and my opinions on feminine sexiness don’t count, but let me tell you - the thing I find sexiest on a man? A tight black sweater. That’s it. As much as I might drool over a bare chest, there’s something about tight black sweaters that gets me going, and from what I’ve seen, sweaters can look just as sexy on women - and that could have absolutely been applied to Yang here, giving her a tight but still warm pair of thermals that accentuate her body’s curves while still keeping her looking like she’s prepared to head out into a blizzard. It’s not that hard.

This outfit is for a mechanic in early fall, not for a huntress in the middle of a freezing tundra. 

[jangofctts]

Tough Luck (Boba Fett x reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, violence, language, dry humping,  oral (m), sex with binders, vaginal fingering, mildly dubious consent, mild cumplay, more sexual favors (jfc), vaginal sex, consensual loss of virginity, 

Chapter (1)

a/n: howdy hey bucket fuckers. welcome to the second chapter!!! thank you so much for ms. @bobafctts​ for helping me THOT and help with the process of this bad boy in addition to @djxrxn​ whom ALSO encourages all these DISguSTAnG thots. love you, whores 🤠💖❤️ 

It’s a grueling ride to Coruscant. Even with a midway stop to refuel, it takes more than a couple weeks to arrive. 

You wish Boba Fett had thrown you into the carbon freezer. 

It’s...boring down here. 

The bounty hunter had left you alone, preferring to lock himself away inside the cockpit. Not like you’d want him anywhere but there, that is. He’s not some circus clown meant to entertain an impartial audience—you’re his quarry. A quarry worth a quarter million credits.   

The rare occasion you do see him is humiliating as is. Monitored refresher brakes and the singular hellacious shower incident. True, all he had done was wrestle your kicking and screaming self into the little cubicle then proceed to lock you in—and yet…Never in the entirety of your existence had you encountered anything more glacial than that water.  

Stars—you swear he has a direct pipeline to Hoth. 

With fingers frozen and teeth chattering so hard they rattled your skull, you made quick work of scrubbing at your hair and body. It’s a miracle you survived certain death by hypothermia, even more so you haven’t caught a cold in the following hours.   

There are limited chances to protest and rebel, close to zero in fact. He’s proven to be stronger on more than one occasion, man-handling and knocking you around like some squeaky toy left to be chewed on for some oversized loth-cat. 

He’s taken away the sole thing you’ve craved since coming aboard this ship; ripped it from your fingers and shattered it upon a duracrete floor. You’ve never chosen the petty undertaking after flustered nerves and lost arguments in life; it festers and twists into malice like a weight over your chest. But you’re no longer there. 

Here, after the first meal bar landed in your lap, you surrendered your pride and tore into that idle act of revenge.     

The meal bars thrown at your feet now begin to pile up; the one small defiance you can spare. It’s either this or throw your head against the wall until you pass out. Tragically and against your own volition, the imagery your brain provides for it forms a bubble of unease in the pit of your stomach. The sight of your own blood makes you queasy anyhow.   

It’s not ideal. You’re knifing hungry, but your act of defiance works. Faster than you’d originally thought as the second sleep cycle rolls around. 

Boba Fett’s spurs chink against the front of his boots, the glare of the shiny metal catching against the dim lighting. He doesn’t carry a meal bar this time. Instead all he brings is an ion storm filled with buzzing irritation you can feel crackle against your skin. Your eyes sweep up his figure as he plants himself before you, his head tipped down to meet your half-hearted glare.    

With a long sigh, squats and lifts up one the meal bars, the shiny wrapper crinkling under the pressure as he points it in your direction. “I’m not interested in delivering a corpse.”

“I’m not hungry,” you quip, turning your head to glower into the murky darkness of the ship. 

You jump, a pitiful squeak escaping your vocal cords as he throws the bar at your feet and lunges. His hand clamps around the binders, the roar of your heart deafening against your eardrums as he yanks you in close. 

“What is it you want?” He snarls, “A deal?”  

“I see how you treat your deals,” you bite back, straining against his grip. “You’re a liar and a cheat.” 

Boba wrenches you forward, the tip of your nose skimming the edge of the tinted visor from how close he leans in. “Careful, Rabbit. If I recall correctly, you offered me a favor not a contract.”

Despite the inky blackness of the visor, you could easily mistake it with the intensity of a dying star. You’re caught in that same familiar, lecherous pull from before. It feels wrong to be brought so close; like dancing over the serrated edge of a blade, not meant for a mortal soul to be wandering along.  

“I’ll ask again.” He states, the leather squeaking as his fingers clench tighter. “What is it you want?”

There’s no bargaining for a merciful death. You’ve seen how that would play out. All your cards are exhausted and spent and the only thing you’re left to bargain for are simple accommodation before you’re appointment with a firing squad.   

“No more binders. At least for more than a couple hours.” You rush out, afraid if you don’t speak with haste he’ll cut you off. “And...and I want a blanket. It’s—it’s cold.” 

He considers this, each second like a poorly wired hyperdrive—seconds from imploding. You let out a shaky breath as you catch the near imperceptible nod. “Is that all?” 

“Yes...I-I think.” 

He snorts. “You think? What else do you require, Rabbit?” 

You ignore the sarcasm dripping through the syllables like melted sugar. Be it intimidation or your own hormones betraying your rational mind, your eyes dip down. You curse yourself for his perceptiveness. 

It comes with the job you suppose. No one becomes the best bounty hunter in the parsec using untrained eyes.  

“You know, girl,” he chuckles, a gravelly rasp against the vocoder. “I could...return the favor.”

If you had it your way, wielding an iron grip of control on your own body, you’d stop the tidal wave of crackling arousal from licking at your heels and settling in the pit of your stomach. It’s a rush of electricity guilt yet you’re able to reign in your tongue and speak; as shaky and unsure as it is.  “What makes you think I want anything more to do with you?”

“There’s no harm changing your mind,” he says. Boba cocks his head to the side and rocks forward, capturing and twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “As you said—you’ll die soon anyhow.”

With a goading tug on your hair he sits up, the tinkle of his spurs filling the space as he saunters a couple paces away. He smooths a hand over a large cargo crate, the leather glove rasping against the wood and with a sigh, he sits. He settles his back against it, your eyes not once leaving his figure, entranced by each subtle movement and swish of his cloak that bunches beneath him.  

“Come claim your favor, Rabbit,” Boba purrs, crossing his legs and leaning further into the cargo crate. He’s awfully nonchalant—like a loth-cat furled out in the sun. Though you know, behind the undisturbed facade, one wrong move and he’ll pounce; sink those razor sharp talons into exposed flesh.   

“Anything?” 

If you could see his eyes, you imagine he’d be rolling them. He pats his thigh. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and then we’ll talk.”

You don’t think about the fact that this is worse than before. That you’re letting yourself clamber over his crossed legs and into his lap. You hate that the crackling fire, greedy and dark, burns through your core as if it had never had a taste of pleasure before.  

His hands skim up your thighs, covered and impersonal. You don’t let that kernel of disappointment wiggle into your thoughts—it’s bad enough you’re here. In spite of this, you think, fuck it. You might as well. Your life is such a shit show anyhow might as well indulge.   

You hiss in surprise as your crotch meets the unforgiving metal codpiece. “Take it off?” 

“You take it off, Rabbit.”

Your teeth clamp down into the inside of your cheek. Bastard. Cocky, smug, asshole—

The list could go on forever and despite the irritation snapping inside your chest like a cut wire, your fingers find the latches to the dark green codpiece. You’re rough taking the blasted thing off, delighting in the bounty hunter’s little chagrined grunt as you tug and pull without much caution. 

“Careful.” 

You shoot the best glare you can muster and stick your tongue out, jolting as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass in retaliation. With a clatter the codpiece falls off; the thick swell of his cock creating an attractive line against the white fabric. 

The same trepidation returns. You’re digging your own grave here, shoveling through dirt and tough layers of gravel in order to toss yourself in. It shouldn’t be this easy to convince yourself to fall into those greedy claws of arousal.

“Well?” Boba challenges, snaking a hand around the swell of your waist. “Get moving before I change my mind.” 

“What do you suggest I do then?” You snip, exasperated by his indignant shrug. 

With a low hum he anchors his hold over your hips and yanks you further over his crotch. “You could be a good girl and get yourself off.”

You swallow, chewing on the edge of your lip. “Like this? Nothing else?” 

“I don’t know, Rabbit,” he sighs, “but it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Before you can ask, he rolls his hips up, pressing the firmness of his cock against your covered cunt. You gasp and rock into him, a hand shooting out to grab at his shoulder pauldron. His snort of amusement only encourages your spiral into madness as he allows you to set your own pace; a timid and shallow undulation of you hips that only serves to amp up the craving and not sate it in the slightest.    

Stars, it’s hard to think like this. Every spark of pleasure is a catalyst to the inferno that tears through the fabrics of your being. It’s an effortless process to forget who you’re using to get off; easy to tumble into that pit of pleasure with each buck of your hips.      

Your cries are harsh, an incoherent string of curses and his name all thrown into one. Fuck—it’s blinding. The catch and pull of the fabric against your clit and the hardness of his cock that presses against your inner thigh; pitching quite an impressive tent in those creamy white trousers. 

It rushes up, searing and white-hot that’s got your whole figure into stiffening and catapulting into bliss. With a groan your head dips onto his shoulder, the scent of plasma and an undercurrent of smoke lingering on the fabric of his cowl. Your hips still rock into his lap, riding out the last dregs of pleasure. 

In retrospect you should have known. Deduced that this favor claimed as yours would shift into something completely his. He’s never satisfied with the terms unless he gets the larger cut. 

Just as your hips begin to slow, he readjusts his grip and grinds his straining cock against your sensitive pussy.     

Boba’s hands, one cradling your spine while the other clamps down over you ass is an anchor so unyielding it’d take a ship cutter to brake; he’s heaving your body into they jerky and erratic roll of his hips, too far gone to care about technique or poise. Just a means to an end—desperate for release. His breathy grunts reverberate through the vocoder, near deafening this close to your ear as the hand resting between your shoulder blades, latches onto the back of your neck. 

If not for the intensity of your orgasm, devastating and still wracking through your body in tiny jolts of lingering pleasure, you’d have fought his hold. Instead, you allow Boba to urge you forward, the cool metal a shocking contrast against your forehead in comparison to your flushed state. His own head is bowed against yours, playing into that foreign sense of intimacy as he finds his release. 

With a stuttered groan, his fingers harpoon into your flesh and cums. 

His chest heaves, fervent gulps of air harsh and distorted by the vocoder as he winds down from his high. You’re no better; your breath fans across the visor, the humidity painting a foggy layer of perspiration over the visor as your body still quivers with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s the first one to part; jerks his head away as if you've burned him.   

In the following seconds, it’s as if your eyes are glued to that visor. There’s no telling wether you’re moments away from being slaughtered or allowed to sustain this little charade he’s put you through.    

“Oh, Rabbit…” A shiver tears down your spine as he glances between your bodies. There’s a wet patch, the fabric dampened by both your combined releases staining the front of his trousers. “What a waste.” 

You gasp as his hand curls around the column of your throat, your cunt clenching as the pressure tightens. With once last, teasing squeeze his fingers move to tangle into your hair. “Clean up your mess.” 

With a not so gentle yank on the strands you’re coerced into clambering off Boba’s lap. He guides your head forward, uncrossing his muscled legs to let you crawl up and settle between his thighs.     

Your hand quivers, somehow able to pop open the button and pull down the wet fabric. Smeared globs of his release stain the soft, dark skin, his cock still thick and swollen even after orgasm. Your tongue passes over your bottom lip as you lean in, a new, fresh wave of arousal carving through your frame. 

The taste isn’t horrid, still warm and mildly salty as you tongue laves at the crease of his thigh. Your tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva down to his balls, the skin velvety soft against your mouth. Boba jerks as you suckle them into the wet heat of you mouth, carefully swirling your tongue over them then tracing up to his softening cock. He grunts as you lick along his shaft, the flesh twitching as you lap up the rest of the sticky substance.   

Boba’s hand nudges at your forehead, then shifts and maneuvers himself out of your hold. Not a word is spoken as he pulls up his trousers and thumbs the button closed. He snatches up the codpiece laying pathetically on the ground and reattaches it around his groin. 

You don’t mean to flinch as he dips down—force of habit—even if all he does is reach for one of the abandoned meal bars. He pushes it into your hand; no room for arguments and perches himself against the cargo crate, one ankle crossed over the other as his arms fold over his cuirass. He dips his head, the message loud and clear to hold up your end of the deal. 

“You don't have to watch me eat,” you mutter, biting off the corner of the foil with your teeth to open it. You roll a piece of the pasty food into a crumbly ball between your fingertips then pop it into your mouth. You grimace at the taste. Bland. A bit like dirt. 

Except…dirt has flavor. 

Not to mention the fact that he won’t stop staring. Tracking every move—unsettling and curbing your appetite into a mess of anxious knots. You don’t like being analyzed and monitored like an ill-tempered child. It’s a long shot to ask and receive an answer, but you’re desperate for anything to fill the silence.  

“How did…um…you find me?” 

Kriff, you can’t even ask about anything normal, can you?

Boba cocks his head to the side, letting that unnerving quiet draw out until you’re sure he won’t respond. And then; “People leave trails. Even you, clever rabbit”

You force yourself to choke down another bite of the bar. “What was my trail then?”

You’re split between the desire to know what you did to ensure your capture while battling your queasy surprise that he’s chosen to indulge your questionings. “The pilot.”

A knife of dread, so sharp and swift it cuts through the layers of cartilage and bone; the blade lodging itself into your heart. “W-what?” 

“The Imperial one.”

Elliria Beren. Elli— 

No. No—that’s…he’s toying with you.  

Dantooine is the last place you saw her. Alive. Wild, auburn hair blown from her braids caused by the windstorm that swept up through the grassy plains; the clouds, colossal and dark, swallowed up the sun as they rolled across the horizon. Her flight suit was hastily thrown on, rumpled and against regulations in the rush to help you. She told you to run—stole the TIE fighter to give you one last, undeserved chance. 

It feels like a broken promise stapled to the roof of your mouth as your mind dregs up the remnants of that day. She’d thrown her arms around you, crushing you to her chest, smelling like oncoming rain, and that contraband perfume she’d bought on Alderaan; a delicate sweetness you can hardly remember.

With Elliria, there was no fear; cradled in her arms and severed off from the world. There, you've done nothing wrong, you are not being chased by some relentless terror. You could sleep inside that moment. You could live inside that string of seconds. It would be fine. It would be perfect. You could escape and mend you fragmented heart strings. 

But you’re not there. 

You’re here. 

Here on a bounty hunter’s ship. Here there is fear. There is great sorrow. There is a litany of sins and a throng of terrors devouring at your soul. You led her straight to her death. Right into the very jaws of the man who sits before you. You hadn’t even considered she’d be caught.   

Your stomach churns and coils as bile pricks at your throat. What have you done.  

“I found her on Tatooine,” Boba continues, either enjoying your obvious horror or unabashedly oblivious.

No. Stop fucking talking. You bite back a choked sob as he raises a finger, tracing it across his cuirass. There—alongside the braided pieces of hair mounted as trophies, sits a red and blue ribbon. How haven’t you seen it before? You were there when Elli was awarded the Imperial Medal of Valor—it’d been the first time you’d seen her smile in months.  

And now…now it hangs upon the pauldron of a bounty hunter as a conquest won. “She was a good shot—but I was better.” 

Your chest is a wall of fire; the air you breath constricted and hot as your throat mimics that of a too tight collar on a fancy suit. You don’t care that stinging tears spring from your eyes and carve burning paths down your cheeks. Grief and wrath spin inside your chest with the fierceness of a vortex all-consuming. You shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have forced his hand into revealing that all you ever do is leave a wake of destruction behind you. 

The abrupt, sharp, buzz throughout the ship slices through your despair. The comm system is flashing, attempting to patch in a call. The moment he stands, your mind races with plots of vengeance. You have nothing but your fists, your sharp teeth and bitten off nails. You don’t care. 

He turns his back, his cloak rasping against the floor. 

A momentary lapse in judgment on his part to leave himself vulnerable to a quarry free from their binders. 

With a cry you launch yourself across the small space, hooking your arms around his neck. He shouts out a curse, the weight of your body causing his own to pitch backwards. All air punches out of your lungs as the back of your head cracks against the ground, the full weight of beskar platting slamming into your chest and stomach. 

Your hold around his vulnerable throat loosens, giving him more than enough wiggle room to spring up. Your fist snaps out, the skin over your knuckles splitting open as it connects with the sharp edges of his helmet. He scrabbles to contain your flailing hands, eventually ensnaring your writs between his fingers with ease. 

Bucking your hips and kicking your legs out does nothing to save you from Boba wrestling you onto your stomach, straddling your thrashing body, wrench up your arms, and snap out a new pair of binders. Boba snarls as your elbow manages to stab into a vulnerable gap in his armor, forcing him to throw his entire weight over you. 

You don’t mean to slam the side of your face into his helmet—hurts you more than it would ever him. But it’s satisfying to feel him jerk and hiss out a curse.

“Stop this.” He barks, digging his forearm harder into the flesh of your shoulders. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

The blooming mark forming over your left eye socket is proof enough. The most damage, if any, would show up as bruise from where his own beskar had brutalized the skin or where your elbow had connected on his ribs.  

You want to fight—tear into his flesh until he feels even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused. Instead, he chooses something different.    

“I’m sorry about your friend.”  

Friend doesn’t sound right. And lover too bold. Feels overly simplistic; shallow to what you had with Elli. Like glossing over a three hundred page holonovel. “I hate you.”    

There’s no malice, no gloating. Just...sincerity. “Truly, I am.”  

You don’t know what’s worse; the fact that there’s nothing to latch onto, bare your teeth and spit out words more jagged than broken glass or if it’s the hollow void that carves out the cavity in your chest. The frigid vacancy that follows after a forest burns; charred skeletons of a once lush forest. Everything in your life has been burned, flipped and torn inside out more than you care to think about. 

Stuck in that strange limbo between the devouring vortex of agony and revenge. Flirting with dull edged apathy that blankets the pain with buzzing static. 

You choose the latter. 

It’s easier.  

It’s not fair Elli is dead. But there’s nothing you can do to change what happened. 

Some of that pressure bearing down on your spine eases as your body goes lax. You’re not sure how much time ticks away as you lie there against the dirty floor. Enough time to count the screws connecting the durasteel walls and the individual planks making up a cargo crate. You don’t care that Boba Fett continues to maintain his precarious position seated on your thighs, or the inquisitive touch between your shoulder blades. He isn’t the one to hate in this situation. You are. 

That gentle, uncharacteristic touch smooths down the line of your spine, disappearing once it reaches your bound hands. 

“You’re such a tiny creature...” You don’t think it’s meant for your ears, more of an observation he lets slip than a conversation starter. Regardless, it sends a shiver from the base of your skull and down. 

With a curious hum, Boba shifts, slotting his hips against your ass. The added weight is uncomfortable, it digs your hip bones into the durasteel flooring. Yet, unlike the beskar codpiece supposed to be strapped to his groin, all you can feel is a different sort of hardness present.

“There’s still fight in you yet, Rabbit.” 

Your fingers curl into fists so tight the bite of your fingernails leave crescent shaped indents. His hands smooth along the waistband of your trousers, the soft leather tickling the sliver of exposed skin where you shirt became rumpled. “Does that surprise you?” 

He huffs. “No. But you could put it to better use instead of attacking me.”  

“Like what? Fucking you?” Bitter resentment builds like ash over you tongue, even if the idea of it sends a charged volt of interest down to your lower belly. 

Boba’s fingers crawl down your thighs. “I didn’t say that, but if you insist.”  

You scoff and wriggle. “You’re deplorable.” 

“Is that a yes, Rabbit?”

Maybe, you think as you nod your head, this will fill that torn void with temporary gratification. Steal away your thoughts and loose yourself something akin to the mind numbing affects of alcohol. 

Boba hums in acknowledgment, hooks his fingers around the elastic and yanks down, underwear included. You can feel the weight of his stare wracking down the newly exposed skin, pliable and wanton—and all for him. 

You squeak as he takes two, plentiful handfuls of your ass, spreading and massaging the flesh. It’s as if the only reason he exists is to torment you. Pull from you the embarrassed flushes and ashamed squeaks. You’re relieved once he retreats.   

Though it’s not a moment later his hands are back over you. Gloveless. It’s a shock to your system feeling the scrape of calloused fingertips trail over the curve of your spine. A curious touch, one unfamiliar with the softness of skin, yet the fleeting presses rapidly turn into the only thing he knows. 

Your sharp inhale echoes into the ship as his fingers trail down the slit of your cunt, gliding through the slick, already leaking from your core, with ease. You jolt as his fingertip catches against the tiny bundle of nerves, the pressure teasing and light. Never enough to satisfy, just a cruel reminder just how easy it is to get you worked up. With a muted whimper, your hips twitch, silently begging for anything more. Anything to fill your clenching cunt.  

He obliges with a smug chuckle, lazily pushing a finger into the ring of velvety muscle. You whine as he slips in another digit, scissoring and shallowly thrusting in out, thoroughly coating his hand with your arousal. Just as the buzzing strings of pleasure begin to build up, he extracts them. Frustration pierces through your sternum, your teeth clamping down over your tongue in order to quell your irritation.  

There’s a rustle of fabric and a harsh inhale from the man behind you as he closes the space between you. Your pussy clenches as the tip of him touches against your clit, the flesh searing and painfully hard. You shudder and exhale a long, stuttered breath.    

“I can tell you haven’t been fucked right,” he purrs, dragging the flushed head of his cock through your folds. “Why don’t we fix that?” 

Boba gives your thigh a swat and shifts, ready to align himself and sink into your clenching core. That heavy haze of pleasure is abruptly yanked out from beneath your feet, panic piercing through your heart with an alarming jolt. You seize up and jerk away. 

“W-wait!” You gasp, hands wiggling against the binders. “I-I...uhm—“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before, Rabbit.” He thinks it’s a joke. It is a bit silly considering the circumstances—yet here you are. Bent over and telling Boba Fett you're a kriffing virgin.  

Your shamed silence and the heated flush that follows answers his question with crystalline clarity. 

“You’re serious.” 

“I’ve never been fucked, ok?”  Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a long exhale. “I just...never…”

Your piss-poor explanation tapers off into a gaping fissure of terse silence. Maker, you should just throw yourself into a trash compactor—  

“I can change that,” he offers, trailing his palm over the globe of your ass. “If you’d like.” 

You swallow. Maybe in a different version of reality you’d consider a better option, but fuck it. You’re already here. “O-ok.”

“As you wish, Rabbit,” Boba complies. If not for the helmet you’re sure you’d see a smile curl across his face. “Just know—I don’t do gentle.”

You would never expect him to. Whatever civilized temperament he holds in not saved for anything but hunting and aiming a blaster. You tense as your walls begin to stretch and accept the tip of his cock—alarm bells blare inside your head, terrified that it won’t fit. His hand smooths over your hip as he encourages you to relax, let him sink in the rest of the way. His fingers find your clit, rubbing jerky patterns into the nerves as your cunt flutters and stitches wider for him. The sharp outline of his hips touch your ass, a sharp hiss of breath crackling out of the vocoder as he finally bottoms out. 

You’re so achingly full. No amount of fingers thrust up inside your cunt could compare to what you feel in this exact moment. Simultaneously split open and burning with white hot ecstasy with each involuntary jerk from the man inside you. There’s a minuscule pinch and ache as he pulls his hips back, the drag of his cock catching against each ridge and fold as you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” Boba swears, sheathing himself back inside with a forceful thrust. You squeak and pull against the binders. “You take it well.” 

There’s not much time between your next inhale and his hands anchoring around your hips, before he sets the pace; harsh and unyielding. Just as he promised, there is no buildup, just the violent roll and abrasive push inside you.  

There’s no time to familiarize yourself with this newfound sensation, just a frightening buildup that seizes you by surprise. It begins in belly, spreading through your bloodstream like the most virile poison. With another, devastating, surge of his cock into your pussy, you’re cast into that gaping bit of burning pleasure. 

Your vision whites out, your body arching and stiffening as you cry out. The fact that you’re squeezed so, fucking tight around him, holds no hinderance to his pace. Just encourages him to go faster. There’s no mercy as he fucks you through orgasm, overworking those sensitive nerves and pushing them past your limit.

With a hiss of air the binders fall to the ground with a clatter; the noise barely heard in comparison to your stuttered cries and the obscene sounds of his cock burying itself into your cunt. Your shoulders burn as your hands slip beneath you, shaky and unsure of themselves, stabilizing yourself against the greedy pull of his hands.  

The rough callous of his palm sweeps up your back and forms a fist in your hair, urging your spine to arch as his thrusts take on a sharper rhythm.

Your core is a mess of knots, pulled tight and more pressurized than a airlock. Your nails scrabble against the metal flooring, your knees rubbed raw from the vicious momentum he’s achieving. Fuck—this should’ve been your favor from the very start.

Those burning nerves, flooded with acute overstimulation, throws your body off that haphazard edge of another scorching orgasm. One that drags it’s sharpened nails down the curve of your spine, all the way done to your toes. 

“Fuck—fuck you’re tight,” he snarls, his hands squeezing your hips with vicious strength. “Keep squeezing me like that, Rabbit—good girl.”

The top half of you buckles under the weight of ecstasy, weakened and unbothered by the new angle; his cock reaching deep. Your fluttering cunt and the high-pitched whines of his name are it takes for him to reach his end. 

He pulls out, ropes of his release landing over your ass in hot gushes. “Shit.”

Boba’s cock still jumps and twitches as he drags it over your ass, rubbing his cum into the skin until the last dribble of his release dips above your tailbone. Quicker than you’d have liked he pulls away. Not far; just seats himself to your right and pulls up his trousers with a sigh. Eventually you’re able to trick yourself into moving; curling yourself into a little quivering ball as the aftershocks of pleasure prickle beneath your skin. 

You were right. It did fill whatever grasping numbness inside your chest, but now you’re left to deal with it all over again. You’re glad your back is to him as lonesome tears trickle down your nose and into you mouth, filling it with the taste of salt and pain. 

“I didn’t kill her. If that makes a difference.” 

It’s muttered and hard to catch, but you hear it just the same as if he had yelled it into your ear with an amplifier. You crush that flicker of hope with an iron fist as it flutters inside your stomach. “But?”

“But your Empire made sure that she was.” 

It doesn’t make a difference. 

[blockedmite]

A Warm Surprise | Abby Anderson x Reader

You go on a camping trip that ends with meeting Abby

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

AN: So....

When I say soon, I mean soon. lol. I guess I just didn't have too much to add after I left off. But to start off this AN right I want to thank some very important people to me.

First I want remind everyone that this fic is dedicated to @kittycat-beans​, who is an amazing writer and an even more amazing person. Their top tier Abby fics have been a huge inspiration to write again. This fic is also in honor of @shadowcrow​, who still continues to support my every last move. They are a friend that everyone deserves.(and also helped proofread)

Next, I would like to thank my proofreaders, who also happen to be my little mini family over the last week or so. I WILL destroy anyone and anything that does as much as touch a hair on their head because I love all of them so much. <3<3<3. The proofreaders are @abbysfrenchbraid​, who is the most beautiful woman other then Abby that I have ever seen. Just a straight up German goddess. Next, @abbysfirstlove​, who is the most adorable little sweet cake anyone can imagine. I will protect that smol bean with my life. Next, @jessicamparker​, who I can never take seriously. lol. She is an absolutely adorable and chill bean that everyone deserves to vibe and vape with. 

So, if that’s everyone, I’ll give you the stats on this fic now. This is a Modern AU with Abby as a lumberjack and a Fem!Reader. This is chapter 2 of 10. It’s is 1.4K words. 

Warnings:

cursing

some angst

Enjoy!

A Warm Surprise

Chapter 2: Rescued

“I really need to go get some wood.” Abby thought. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was white, it was cold, and it was miserable. 

You walked for what seemed like hours. The horrible, god-forbidden cold just would not let up. Your legs had long since adjusted to your movement but now they were fighting the cold with the rest of your body. Your arms clung to your sides and your breathing was stuttered. You couldn’t feel your fingers or toes. You swore that hypothermia was going to set in soon if you didn’t make it to your car.

Speaking of your car, where the hell was that thing, anyway? You have been walking in its general direction for what seemed like miles. It couldn’t be that far, it was just a short hike. 

“Where is it?” You thought. “Please...I can't be...I can't be….No! I am not lost. I know where I am.”

You pushed the thought of you being lost out of your head. If there was anything that shouldn't be happening now, it's you being lost. Lost out in the middle of a white, freezing blizzard. But the more you kept trying to push the thought away, the more you kept thinking about it and the more it kept making sense.

You were absolutely terrified. You had already ran out of your tent in a panic to get out of the cold. It was a very likely chance that you ran the wrong way. You had no way of checking whether or not you were going the right way either. You still couldn't see anything, so you could have been walking in a circle this entire time with no landmarks to orient yourself.

With your thoughts now on landmarks, you realized that you never passed that little stream you crossed when first finding your spot. Or went back past that huge salt rock. Or passed that huge, old tree that was split in half. 

You were in the middle of nowhere. 

You damn near screamed. There was no way you could be lost. You had to know where you were. You had to be somewhere after all, right?

You looked around in a panic. You looked for…...something. Anything. Anything that could give you a sign of where you were. You looked through the thick falling snow. You saw bare trees and bushes. You looked at the sky and saw dark grey clouds. You looked behind you and saw nothing but your own tracks being quickly covered up by the snow. You looked back in front of you to find nothing, just like before. 

You kept looking forward. Moving step by step, further into the frozen hell that awaited you. You kept moving until you saw it. You saw something moving in the snow, it was flapping around wildly in the wind.

It was bright orange and low to the ground. A tent! You had stumbled into someone else's camping site! You finally found a place to stay. Oh thank god. These people could definitely help you or let you stay. They must have some good camping equipment to stay out in this fucking weather. Now all you had to do was………

“No.” You thought.

“Oh please God. No! NOOOOO!”

You stumbled into your own camping site again. You had walked in a complete circle.

 You were lost. 

You stared at the bright orange tent flapping in the wind, making you sick. You barely saw your sleeping bag buried under the snow in front of the tent where you had left it. You could see that the snow had made its home inside of the tent’s open front. You were frozen in place and it wasn’t because of the cold.

If you were being completely honest, you wanted to die. You just wanted to lay down and let the cold overtake you. Let the white, pure snow cover up your cold, rotten body and be discovered later. You wondered how long it would take. Would the search party come after your 10-day trip was over? Maybe a week after? Months? Years? Who would even notice that you were gone? Who would even care if they noticed? There was no one and nothing for you back in Jackson. Sure as hell nothing here for you in Seattle. What was even the point anymore? 

Why were you even alive anymore?

“FUCK YOU SEATTLE!!” You thought, “If I want to die somewhere, it’s sure as hell won’t be in Seattle in the middle of the fucking woods.”

You didn’t know where this new burst of energy came from but you didn’t complain. Everything inside of you was starting to burn. Burn with rage. Burn with frustration. Burn with the passion to get the fuck out of this blizzard.

You still couldn't see anything but you were going to find your way. If that meant bumping into and rubbing every tree you could find with your numb fingers until they bleed, then so be it. You had one tree in mind anyway. That huge, old oak tree split in half. It was different from all the rest anyway. If you could find that one tree you could find your way out of these woods. 

So you reoriented yourself and set out one last time. You were as close to jogging in the snow as it would allow you. Your feet felt like heavy stones and your legs were starting to ache a little. Your arms weren’t attached to your body anymore. They were swinging by your sides, helping you thrust yourself forward through the snow. Occasionally using them as little binoculars to help see through the snow a little bit.

You jogged and jogged and jogged through the snow. You keep pushing forward. All you wanted to find was some shelter. God knew that you would have gladly fallen into a hole and stayed there, if it meant getting out of this blizzard alive. Anything would do. In fact, right now you were looking for a tree. All you needed to do was find one tree. One tree in a forest full of them. That one sign of hope. That one sign of life. 

~~~

You were running around for what seemed like hours again. 

“Not again.” You thought, “I can’t be lost again. I’m not gonna die here. Where the fuck is that tree?”

At this point, you were legit rubbing and bumping into trees. Seriously, looking up at them trying to see if you remembered it. It was clear to you that the cold was making you crazy, and now you were slowly losing your mind. You were just a crazy woman running around in a blizzard rubbing on trees. At the very least dying crazy is better than dying sane. 

But dying wasn’t an option right now. You had to find that damn tree. You kept pushing forward, albeit much slower than before. You had to be going in the right direction this time. As dreadful as coming back to your campsite was, it was helpful in pointing you in the right direction. You had to be nearing the tree eventually.

You walked and looked. You walked a little slower and looked a little harder. You were starting to lose energy quickly but your determination was still high. You were going to keep looking for that tree with the last fiber of your being. 

You were still continuing your tree rubbing when…..

“Woah!”

What the hell? Did that tree just woah at you? That's it! You were finally losing it. You were gonna go crazy and die in the middle of the woods with woahing trees. 

“What the hell? Who are you??” said the once woahing tree.

“I...I...need help-p” You said stuttering due to the cold, “Help me-e, Mr. T-Tree”

“Holy shit! How long have you been out here?”

Before you could answer, you felt the “tree” move. A hand grabbed at your back while another swapped up your feet. Next thing you knew someone, that you thought was a tree, was bridal carrying you to an unknown location.

“I have a log cabin I can take you to.” said the stranger.

Ok, scratch that. An unknown log cabin. You cursed yourself for not trying that earlier but you were kind of too busy trying not to die. Plus you happened to be walking around in circles, so what were the chances anyway. But despite everything, you were so happy that you were being carried to safety. 

You dangled lifelessly in the arms of your own personal survivor. Your body was starting to ache all over but you didn’t care. Whoever this was, you were completely ready to die in their arms.

For them to completely take you away.

“By the way, my name’s Abby.”

[somerandomstrayemo]

This is my story off of wattpad that I had just decided to put here, do not repost, if I see this story anywhere else I will ask you to take it down, thank you :)

_____________________________________________

Prompt: Virgil lends their sweater to Remus. When Remus is home, he realizes he still has Virgil's sweater and finds Virgil's iPod. Out of curiosity, Remus looks through Virgil's music and finds a playlist titled with Remus's name..

Virgil sat comfortably on the couch, casually scrolling through Instagram (yes, FINALLY, something other than Tumblr-). He hadn't had much to do that day since Patton was out getting things for a movie night, Roman was writing the script for a new video, and Logan was out with Patton, probably just out and about to resupply on crofters since he was running low on them.

It was mid February, and due to the climate in Florida it was still quite cold to say the least. Though Virgil didn't mind the freezing temperature due to the fact he almost always wore his black and purple sweater, he seemed almost unfazed by the somewhat cold atmosphere.

Around the evening is when the anxious trait heard light shuffling behind him and he quickly spun around from his position on the couch, only to spot a  seemingly freezing Remus that previously planned on pouncing on him. "Remus? What are you doing here?" Virgil asked, as it wasn't very common for the dark sides to just come along particularly unannounced like that. "Oh the heater part thing in the air conditioner broke over on the dark side and Janus won't let me use his heat coil thingy, so I thought it'd be warmer here, and surprise surprise, it's FUCKING not~" Remus seemed to be speaking in an utterly annoyed an sarcastic tone. Virgil rolled his eyes and tucked away his ear buds, propping his arms up on the back of the couch. "Huh, that sucks now doesn't it" The emo said, still completely unfazed by the situation.

Remus looked Virgil up and down in complete shock. He wasn't shivering, and was acting as though everything was fine. The intrusive side then scoffed and crossed his arms, developing a somewhat snarky attitude towards the smaller side. "How the hell are you so okay with this, it's fucking freezing here! Are you immune or something?!" Remus wasn't very pleased. Virgil made it look so simple and easy to just ignore the cold, it was almost like the emo was taunting him. "Relax Remus, I just have a really thick sweater on. Here, if it makes you feel any better, would you like to borrow it?" Virgil tried to be kind to Remus, as he hated conflict between sides and wasn't one to want to get involved. In fact, Virgil did this willingly, he'd do anything just to see Remus smile just once. It was just a little temperature, how bad could it possibly be?

Remus stared at the emo like he was being taunted once more, but then eased up a bit, seeing there was no signs of mockery in his soft expression. Remus simply gave in, un-crossing his arms and giving a small nod, watching as Virgil then took off his sweater and handed it over.

Remus seemed so happy as he quickly grabbed the sweater and put it on. Though Remus was enjoying himself, this was a decision that Virgil very quickly regret as a cold draft of air hit him like a bus. God it was freezing, yet he plastered a smile on his face as not to let Remus worry. "Thanks emo, this thing really is warm!" Remus said in an almost happy tone. It was rare that Virgil ever saw Remus happy like this since he was mostly intrusive, so like any other side would, he took it all in while he still could. "You're welcome dude, I didn't want you dying from hypothermia, you looked like an angry ice cube." The emo smirked, using his little remark to distract himself from the cold atmosphere. Remus laughed, something Virgil just loved to see, thank god his pale foundation was covering his slightly red face. Though Remus could clearly see how satisfied Virgil was by the decision, and leaned forward, placing and gentle kiss on the freezing emo's face, causing the anxious trait to tense up. "I have to go now Virge, and seriously, thanks for the sweater, I promise I'll give it back" Remus stated happily as he then quickly sunk out. Who's to say he probably snuck out while Janus was distracted, he didn't even give Virgil a chance to speak before he left.

After about a week had past, Virgil had ended up borrowing one of Patton's sweaters, as morality had plenty, so yeah it wasn't his usual style, but at least he was fairly warm. After all, only a few hours after Remus left the week before was when the light sides soon discovered that their air conditioning had broke as well. Back with the dark sides however, Janus had been trying to get Remus to confess on where he had gotten that sweater all week, but as time went on, he had eventually given up. Around this time, Remus was in his room playing around with his mace, he honestly had no intention on giving Virgil his sweater back, as he loved it like his own, but he knew the sad truth was that he had to give it up sooner or later.

As the intrusive side swung hos mace one last time, A small object fell out of the pocket of Virgil's sweater. Remus stopped all he was doing and set his mace aside, picking up the object only to discover it was a dark purple iPod with Virgil's name on it. Being curious, Remus conjured some headphones and plugged them into it, starting to look through his playlists he had saved:

"P!ATD? Of course he would"

"Huh, I..guess.. Billie Eilish makes sense..?"

"ugh, and I think Lofi music would be for his panic attacks, I still wouldn't listen to that"

"AVIVA, again, of course he would."

"MCR, yep, That's Virgil alright, it's sad he only has like 2 songs in this playlist"

Remus went on and on over the playlists, until he came across one that caught his eye, 'reminds me of Remus'. No way the anxious trait really had a playlist dedicated to him, right? Remus clicked the playlist and immediately saw a song that captured his main personality, the one that he used around Virgil:

'Green' by cavetown

Remus had closed the iPod immediately and sighed, he realized the only reason Virgil gave up his sweater was because he cared for Remus, and you know what, that wasn't what Remus had thought at all, he simply thought the emo pitied him, nothing more. Turns out the emo really did like him back after all.

Remus acted quickly, playing a recording of him messing around in his room and locked the door so he could sneak out unnoticed. Once he'd done that he quickly sunk out, hoping Virgil was in his room, and to his relief, he was. Virgil was laying peacefully in his bed, curled up under his blankets, and the room completely silent apart from his very light snoring which Remus had found adorable. Virgil slept in often as he barely got any sleep once the sun set. The intrusive aspect guessed that he fell asleep around 4am today, and he only needed an hour of sleep, but it seemed as though he decided to sleep in the one day Remus decided to confront him.

Instead of waking the emo, Remus had decided to be very quiet and get in bed next to him. If Virgil truly loved Remus, then surely he wouldn't mind.

It had only been a few hours before Virgil woke up, a strong and warm embrace wrapped around his small figure. It had only took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone, quickly turning to look up at who had broken into his room; "Remus.." The younger gently whispered, causing Remus to flutter his eyes open and smile to the small anxious trait in his arms.

Virgil had to admit, he was loving every second of this, he simply looked up at Remus, frozen in silence. He had so many questions; why was he here? How long had he been there? And most importantly, did he even want to be this close to someone like himself. As Virgil's mind trailed off, he felt a pair of lips capture his as he felt his waist was being strattled. The emo didn't resist nor comply, he simply screwed his eyes shut, a few small tears falling from them. Oh how he dreamed of this, how he wanted nothing but to be loved like this.. He'd been longing for someone to love him back...

The kiss lingered for a moment before being broken, Remus placing a hand against the emo's cheek. It was firm, yet so gentle and loving. The intrusive side then used his thumb to wipe away any tears Virgil had, and gave a comforting smile "why didn't you tell me sooner Virgil" he asked kindly, a tone that Virgil rarely ever got to hear. "I was scared.. You'd reject me.." He spoke with pure honesty, and slight guilt for not telling sooner, after all he was the embodiment of fear and anxiety. Though nevertheless, who could stay upset at a face like Virgil's?

Remus chuckled as he sat up, scooping up the smaller trait and placing him in his lap and peppering his face with kisses. "it's okay now love, you don't need to hide it from me anymore, I've got you" Remus sighed out, reassuring Virgil that he had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. A beautiful moment of silence quickly followed those words, and Virgil almost immediately fell asleep in Remus's arms after that. He hadn't felt this loved and relaxed in god knows how long since he was always careful and on edge. It was a wonderful feeling, so great that it put him to sleep. Remus simply chuckled once more, laying his new lover back down as he took his place beside the younger trait, wrapping his arms around Virgil as he then too, drifted off to sleep.

Words: 1694

Sanity: 100%, this was beautiful

My sleep schedule: it's 1am and I have school, so idk, you tell me- :/

[deviatedwinter]

Not what I imagined

(Matt Taylor x Reader)

!! My Gif

Summary: Reader is freezing in the mines looking for Matt

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: a few swears, just overall grim circumstances but if you're a fan of Until Dawn you're used to it ;)

Slightly inspired by @untildawnwrites-blog !

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The screeching of metal brought you back to your senses.

You were clinging to a fallen fire tower that was slowly being swallowed by a dark ravine. Your  legs were folded underneath you as your boots rested on the decrepit railing, your hands gripping the deck. 

Just moments earlier you were with your friends Matt and Emily using the radio, trying to call for help. There was a psycho on the mountain who wanted to harm you and your friends. He had already gotten to Josh.. 

Shortly after a ranger received your cries, the tower fell.

You had been on the outside when you were startled by movement below. Something fast and strong had severed the tower's cables.

When the tower fell, it was as if it was falling on top of you. You clung to the building as the darkness of the ravine was thrown towards you.

Now, clinging to the rusted metal, you prayed that your friends were safe. Emily had been on the other side of the tower, so hopefully she must've jumped onto the snowy banks of the ravine before the tower totally sank.

Matt.

You cried out his name, hoping he was alright and hoping he could help you.

You heard a cough, and then some curses above you.

You then caught a glimpse of his violet jacket as he called your name out into the darkness.

"I-im here!" You cried, starting to feel heat emmenating from the small flames that licked the tower's interior.

"H-hold on, I'm coming!" You heard him grunt as the tower began to slowly creak.

You fought the urge to look down, knowing the drop was far. Instead, you tried to steady your breathing, the warm air from the flames mixing in with the frigid mountain draft.

Finally, you heard Matt above you.

"I'll try to get to you, just hold on!" He explained. You could just barely see his face above you once you craned your neck.

"Matt! Be careful!" You warned, not wanting his fate to be the same as yours.

A sickening creak sent your stomach spiraling in dread, but it was quickly interrupted when you saw a flash of movement above you.

A white sleeve, covered in grime followed by a beckoning hand awaited you.

"Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

Eagerly, you straightened out your legs to reach up and grab his hand.

That was your mistake.

At the sudden movement and shifting of weight, the railing you had rested upon gave way. A scream ripped from your throat, and suddenly Matt was growing smaller and smaller, and the cold wind bit at your skin. Above the sound of the air rushing past, you could've sworn you heard your name being cried out.

This was it. This is how you die.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to be met with hard stone, a sickening crack.

But instead, you felt the stone for a split second before being enveloped by icy liquid. It invaded your lungs, the bitter coldness stabbing at you like thousands of needles. Finally, you managed to swim upwards, your body expelling the water inside your lungs with a retch.

You took a few moments to take in your situation. You were in a river at the very bottom of the ravine, it being mostly dark except for the flaming tower far above and the slivers of moonlight. The current was slow and there were several stalagmites poking through the water's surface. You were relieved you hadn't landed on any of them.

Water was still in your ears, your hearing mostly muffled. You once again could've sworn you could hear your name being called out. 

Quickly, you regained most of your senses before trudging to shore, the shrill creaking of the tower above you loud enough to cut through your suppressed hearing. As you climbed onto the cold bank, your body trembled from the severe cold. Pain also shot up your legs and spine, your muscles sore from the impact of the fall.  The freezing water had clung to you like plastic wrap, and crystals slowly began to form on your clothing. With chilly hands, your patted your ears as you tilted your head, your hearing coming back with a pop. 

You yelped as a loud crash was heard behind you, sending a spray of freezing water onto your already soaked body.

The tower had fallen into the shallow water, causing waves to lap at the bank. There was a hiss as flames were meeting their demise at the contact of water.

You needed to find warmth. 

But alas, any surviving flames were in the middle of the river and in the process of being snuffed out. 

Behind you was a mineshaft, and to your right were sluices and a large decrepit water wheel. At least other people had been here before, maybe there was a way out.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slowly made your way into the shaft, your eyelashes begainning to feel heavier as the water droplets trapped in them froze. You shakily slid your hand over your back pocket, suprised to feel the outline of your phone, but immediately your hopes were dashed, remembering how long you were in the water. Would it still even work? 

You pulled it out anyway, your numbed finger pressing the power button for any signs of life.

Your heart lept when your lockscreen showed up, thank god for your waterproof phone case. 

shakily you turned on the flashlight, its small beam making the trek in the tunnel easier. You began feeling the effects of the cold, your clothes feeling like they were made of mesh as your skin was nipped by the chill. 

You watched your breathe come out in clouds, your lips feeling chapped as your toes and digits became numb. You had to find warmth. You had to find Matt.

You whimpered, hoping your friend was okay. You hadn't seen him at the bottom of the ravine, could he have jumped off onto a ledge? 

"Matt?" You called out to the air, your voice dripping with fear. Your hope began to fade, and despair settled in. It wasn't fair, you wanted him to know how you felt, how much you cared for him. But as far as you knew, he could be dead, and this could be your last night on Earth. 

It felt like you had been walking for hours. Your body ached, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. However, the shaft appeared to slowly rise at an incline, could you be getting closer to the surface?

Your steps had turned clumsy, your mind foggy as you tried to navigate the underground systems. You had no doubt that you were succombing to hypothermia, it would only be a matter of time before you stumbled off a ledge or passed out completely. You could've sworn that you heard screeches in the distance, but you blamed it on your deterriorating mind, and maybe bats. 

You found yourself at a cavern, mining equipment strewn about as if the miners would come back  any minute, if you didn't take in account the rust and rotting wood. 

Your body was tired, you just wanted to curl up and hopefully find warmth that way. So that's what you did. 

You lowered yourself on the hard ground next to a few decaying crates, your body shivering as you brought your legs to your chest. The ice that had formed on your clothing was splintering and falling away from your movement, another reminder on how totally frozen you were. You were engulfed in darkness once you shut off your phone. Sleep beckoned you to its peaceful grasp, and you eagerly fell into it. 

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Matt made his way down a dark mineshaft, the lantern in his hand giving in some warmth in the bitter night. At every turn, he meekly called out for his lost friends, especially one of them.

The person he was head over heels over, that he promised himself wouldn't get hurt under his watch, was down here somewhere, and most likely dead. The person who he had planned to confess his feelings to by the warm fire, or under the stars while gazing at the mountains. 

He wasn't good enough.

That's all he could think about as he traversed the spindling corridors, his heart sinking with every step. He was right there, he could have done something. 

Right after the teenager had witnessed his friend fall into the darkness, he leapt to a nearby platform to avoid being brought down with the tower. He had laid on his chest, peering over into the abyss and crying out their name, his heart breaking with the silence that answered him back.

But he had swallowed the tears. He had to be tough, there was no sense in him dying as well, although a part of him felt like it.  He had found a lantern and was now trying to find a way out. Finally, after some time, he wandered into an opening, several crates and equipment lying dormant. 

His eyes scanned the cavern before they landed on a mass in the shadows near the crates. Slowly, he crept forward and he jolted as the lantern's golden light fell upon your sleeping form. 

"Oh shit!" He cursed before calling your name, quickly kneeling beside you. Thats when he noticed the ice caked onto your clothes, and how your hair had been frozen stiff. 

He gently shook you, his hands warm and slowly he felt some of the ice underneath his touch begin to melt.

Slowly, your sleepy eyes opened and met his frantic ones, relief washing over them at the sight of you awakening.

"Matt..?" you whispered, your voice a hollow rasp of what it usual was. 

"You're alive.." he breathed, still in shock but relief washing over him in waves

"How the fuck are you still alive..?" he asked softly with bewilderment, taking note of your coldness and quickly shedding his letter jacket.

"Water..I fell in..water.." Was all that you could muster as Matt helped you peel your shaking arms out of your soaked coat, replacing it with his dry one.  His body heat that was absorbed by the wool warmed you, your gaze falling onto him.

"What about you..? You're gonna be cold.." 

He gave you one of his gentle smiles before helping you up.

"I'll be fine, I still got this denim jacket and my sweater. Don't worry about me." 

The familiar pain shot up your spine as you stood, your posture faltering before a pair of arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. 

"Can you walk?" He asked gently, surprised by your fragile state.

"It hurts.." You whimpered, hating that he had to see you this way. But the pain, the cold, it was all eating at your effort to stay strong.

Matt felt his heart once again snap in two, his eyes taking on the puppy dog appearance that you'd grow accustomed to. 

You yelped slightly as he picked you up, his arms looping under your knees as he held you bridal style. 

"Matt-" 

"It's fine, I got you. I saw a light further down the shaft, we're almost out I think. Can you hold this for me? it might keep you warm." He removed an arm from underneath your back to grab the lantern, gently allowing your hand to wrap around its handle. Once you were situated, he got up with hardly a grunt. Even after all the night's terror, he was still strong. 

As he carried you down the shaft, you listened to his breathing, his body heat and the heat from the lamp slowly warming you up and clearing your mind. 

"I don't think there's just a maniac up here.." He said aloud, as if he was talking to himself rather than you in particular.

Your mind went back to the strange shape moving underneath the fire tower before it fell, to the shrieks you had heard echoing in the mine.

"Yeah..theres some..thing.." You replied weakly, fear starting to grip you.

Matt quickly tried to lighten the mood, a small smile returning to his face.

"Yknow, this isn't entirely what I imagined carrying you bridal style would look like." 

Your gaze turned towards his face, the yellow light of the lantern showing you the scratch on his cheek along with the dirt that clung to his skin. His cheeks were flushed in the light. 

"What exactly... did you imagine?" 

He hesitated before answering, another smile twitching at his lips.

"You'd be wearing white, maybe I'm in a tux, flowers and rice being rained on us."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as well, them becoming warm despite your body's condition.

"When we survive this, I think that can still be...attainable." 

His joyful smile and reply was cut short by a shriek from behind, the color draining from both of your faces.

"Matt..?" You breathed out, fear gripping you.

His jaw clenched, the cogs in his mind spinning before he ran behind a wall of planks. He quickly set you down and turned the dial on the lantern to dim its light.

Both of you stood still as you heard something scampering on stone behind you. Matt held you close, his breath stalled as the creature screeched, the frail boards the only thing separating you and the monster. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw it. A gaunt, white creature crawled on the wall effortlessly, its limbs scuttling the surface like a spider. It shrieked once more before scampering to another area of the mines.

You slowly let out a breath, and so did Matt, the two of you sharing the same terrified and confused glance. Neither of you cared about what that thing was, you only cared about getting the fuck out of there. 

This time, Matt picked you up once more with haste, your hand barely scooping up the lantern before he stood and ran down the shaft.

You spotted light ahead peaking through some boards, and so did he.

You allowed him to set you down once more, this time standing on your own with the lantern as he backed up. You watched with shaky knees as he broke through the rotting wood with his shoulder, revealing a large outcrop with the lodge in the distance.

Holy fuck, you had wandered back to the lodge all the way from the tower...through the mines??

Matt held out his hand, and you gently took it as you both edged out onto the ledge, relief filling both you, the adrenaline coursing through your veins warming your bodies.

"Is it too soon the check up on your offer?" Matt breathed, his palms meeting his knees as he caught his breathe.

[burnedbyshoto]

Like Ice

todoroki shouto x fem!reader

word count: 2,900

warnings: smut ahah

a/n: remember: sex is not what we do to get rid of hypothermia! i changed the title because i hated it OOF LMAO

Shouto could not believe this was happening to him.

He was out in the middle of gods know where forest, with his summer hero costume on, and it was snowing. Shouto wasn’t quite sure how exactly he ended up getting paired off with you, given that Aizawa never paired the two of you up once you began dating. But he was holding your way too cold body to his warm body as he carried you through the snow.

They were informed that for their final training camp, they were going to be permitted to bring their hero costumes. No one daring to pass up that opportunity had brought their suitcase with their nearly perfected outfits. Everyone expected to be pushed to the brink of death, as no one dared to expect otherwise, but as they pulled off to the side of the road confusion hit Class 3-A. Aizawa listed off teams of two and one single team of three, which consisted of Mineta, Midoriya, and Bakugou. That was something Shouto was dying to hear about later! But by gender, everyone was back on the bus changing into their outfits. 

You had bound over to Shouto, after interning with the Rabbit Hero: Miruko, you had adopted the same style of bodysuit she wore. It was actually very practical for the warrior type of quirk you had, and it definitely was appealing to watch you wear. But it was July, and so you were wearing your summer costume.

Everyone had screamed the moment Mina and Momo had disappeared in a flash. No one knowing where they went, only that Aizawa had laughed and simply stated: “See you all in seventy-two hours!”

Shouto had gone to reach out for your hand, but the world went black and he was suddenly swallowing white powdery snow. The worst part was that he couldn’t find you. He knew immediately that if he wasn’t so used to these subzero degrees, as well as the natural heat given off his body, he would have frozen to death. But he couldn’t see you as he continued to torch the snowbank around you, desperately trying to find you.

Within minutes he had found you in the exact opposite direction of where he was expecting you. You had curled within yourself, trying to keep warm as you couldn’t push the heavy snow off your body in these conditions. The warp had made you dizzy, and when you finally didn’t feel like throwing up, the bitter cold prevented you from using your quirk without getting colder.

So you waited, trying to scream for Shouto as you heard his quirk going off.

When he found you, you found it hard to not fall asleep against his warm body.

“You… you can’t…” You whisper against his warm flesh. You were trying to tell your action-driven boyfriend to not warm you up too quickly or else you’d fall into shock.

“I know,” Shouto murmurs as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not even using my quirk, you’re that damn cold.”

You nod your head as Shouto stands up, “Stay awake okay? I don’t know what the fuck is the point of this is… but I will get us somewhere where I can warm you up better.”

So there Shouto was, blinded by the falling snow, talking to you to keep you awake. His eyes scanned the surrounding area in hopes of finding shelter when he saw it. 

A cave.

“Stay with me.” Shouto grunts as he takes off in the direction of the cave, hopeful that nothing was living in it.

Shouto sealed off the cave entrance with a block of ice, and he settled you against the floor, towards the end of the cave, and sighed as none of your skin looked like it was turning any horrific color. Pulling out the space heater emergency blanket he placed it on your body in hopes that while he got situated you would gradually warm up enough for him to come and give your body heat later.

Shouto lit up a few branches that were in the cave and allowed light to spread across the cave.

Returning his attention to your now shivering body, he quickly removed your soaked and cold costume. Your chattering teeth only intensified as he pressed his body against yours. “You’re… wet…!” You squeaked against Shouto, and Shouto cursed. His costume wasn’t as dry as he thought it was.

Leaving you under the blanket, Shouto removed his costume and settled back uncomfortably onto the hard floor. His warm torso pressed up against your side as he tried making sure you were flat against the ground. Shouto had no idea if you had hypothermia or not.

Eventually, your body stopped shivering, and your breathing stabilizing for the most part as you groan, turning your head towards Shouto with a groan. “Aizawa just tried to fucking kill me.” You joke as Shouto sighs in relief against your collarbone. The heat of his breath sending chills down your body. 

“I’m going to give him a damn piece of my mind later,” Shouto rolls his eyes as he places a kiss on your forehead. “You scared me…”

You coo as you shift your body slightly, a pained moan leaving your lips at your action. Shouto places a hand onto your shoulder and keeps you down, he instead wrapping you in the blanket and rolling on top of you. His forearms are planted besides your head, and you wink at his loving smile. 

“Kiss me, snowflake.” You tease as Shouto laughs softly. His face still going down to press your cold lips against his hotter ones.

A hum vibrates through the kiss as you don’t have the mental dexterity to keep yourself quiet. Shouto pulls away and you grin, your eyes fluttering open to see his own smiling face. “Wow, aren’t you modest.” You tease as your head gesture towards his naked torso. 

“I was saving your life.” Shouto rolls his eyes as he leans back down to nip gently at your earlobe, and a new heat begins to burn through your body.

Despite the cold temperature of your body, you push up off the ground and pull Shouto in by his neck to kiss him. His lips are pressed against yours in a heartbeat, and your fingers intertwine with the hair near the back of his neck. Shouto smiles into the kiss as you tug gently against the hair.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Shouto asks against your lips, and you nod your head, pulling away and trailing kisses down his neck. Sighing softly at the blazing heat of his body against the coldness of your face. 

“Like ice.” You whisper against his neck. Goosebumps flash against his neck and you giggle softly. “Don’t you have any shame? I nearly died from the cold, and you’re trying to seduce me!”

Shouto chuckles as he captures your lips with his, and you sigh contently. Your body enveloping in heat. Was it from the coldness of your body or the heat of the friction between the two of you? You couldn’t say, you didn’t know, but you craved it more.

Your legs shift to better support your laying posture, but the blanket gets in the way as you attempt to stable yourself. A groan is stuck in your throat as Shouto pulls away, his lips tinged red and he shakes his head.

“Stay still, you’re body is still adjusting to not dying.”

“Yeah, well, you also got me horny, so we need to find a way to compromise.” You sass back, grinning widely at his eye roll.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“A pain that you’re head over heels in love with!”

“Debatable.”

“You would fight Aizawa for me!”

“I would fight anyone for you.”

“See, you just proved my point!!”

“You’re being annoying, shut up.”

The pure joy on your face is not something Shouto can keep himself from smiling at as you press a kiss on his nose, “Make me--!”

His lips are back on yours, and your arms move to encircle around his neck. Soft groans move against your lips as Shouto shifts you back onto your back.

“You know, if I have sex with you right now, you’re not going to move. Got it?” Shouto warns against your lips, and you roll your eyes. 

“Nope!”

Shouto’s mouth opens to retort, but you saw that coming from kilometers away as your tongue slips into his mouth. Destroying anything that was going to come out. 

Even his tongue is heavenly hot against yours, and it takes everything in you not to roll over on top of him. Chills roll down your body as Shouto shifts his weight onto one forearm, the other moving to rest on top of your waist. Even though the blanket, his hand is blazing, and you moan out his name. 

Shouto groans in response as you move your hips against his hand.

Desperate for attention from him, you slowly lift up your leg and rub it softly against his. You pant as his lips leave yours as they press against your neck. Your chest arching off the ground as his lips continue traveling down your body. 

“Are you cold?” Shouto asks as he lips are centimeters away from your bra, and you shake your head. You were feeling quite heated after all. With help from Shouto, he strips off your bra and you feel dizzy. Although at this point you’re no longer sure if it’s from the cold or from him.

You gasp as your cold chest is met by his scorching mouth, and your head is thrown back in ecstasy from the touch. His teeth gently biting down onto your hardened nipples. You shake against his hold as he sucks on your breasts, before letting go with an echoing pop. 

“I’m going to take care of you...” Shouto promises you as he takes the blanket off of you. Your body was aching with the need for more, the complete desperation of having Shouto within you, and kissing you.

And then his lips were back on yours, no longer softly kissing you, but molding against yours with need, love, and past fear. His tongue soon dancing with yours as your fingers return to clutch his hair, your mewls escaping into his mouth as he smirks. 

Does hypothermia affect your cognitive skills? You don’t know, and you could care less as all you can think of is Shouto. All that matter is Shouto. You let out a panting yelp as his fingers press warmly against your panties. Panties that are soaked from both the cold and your heat.

His hands, calloused from handling the harsh elements of his quirk, run across your bare body. It takes everything within you not to sob as your tug harsher against his hair, 

“Baby...” You pant as he pulls away, “Please...”

“It seems you’re rather wet down there...” Shouto observes as he peers down, a smirk on his face. You inhale sharply as his fingers peel off the soaked garment.

“Yeah, cuz you were supposed to take them off!” You joke, unable to resist the jab at him.

“It’s just so boring not being able to take them off you without you being like this.” Shouto counters and the flush that explodes on your face is something etherial he loves.

You open your mouth to counter with something, anything. But his fingers slip into your heated sex and all that leaves your mouth is a moan of pleasure.

“What was that?” Shouto whispers as your squirm on his fingers, your harsh pants music to his ears.

“Fuck... ahh~oh my god...” Is all you can muster as his two fingers pump into you slowly, delicately, at a speed that makes you shudder against his body.

His mouth is back sucking onto your collarbone and it’s almost too much as the pressured heat of your pleasure is sitting heavily on your lower belly. “Sho... Shouto!” You gasp as your hips are quickly jutting against his fingers, and his other hand goes down to press quick, small, rough circles against your clit.

“You look so pretty fucking yourself against my fingers,” Shouto admits into your ear, and that’s all it takes for the pressure to come slamming out of you. Your orgasm around his fingers and a languid moan fills the cave as Shouto removes his fingers from within you, and you watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers.

Slowly.

Teasingly.

“You’re an asshole...” You mutter as you watch Shouto removing his strained underwear, and you groan at the sight of his hardened dick springing up.

The heat of your core quickly returning at the sight of him, and you licked your lips in anticipation as he lines up at your entrance, and he pushes you onto the floor again. “Do you want me?” Shouto asks.

The words hold two meanings, and you nod immediately as he smiles. Proceeding to coat his dick with your already dripping core you moan at the feeling. His eyes locked on yours as he grips your hips, and you don’t have time to ask if he was ready as his hips sink into yours.

The penetration alone makes you tremble as you cry out his name. Puffs of the hot air escape Shouto’s mouth as he is still within you.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Shouto groans as he grips your thighs against him, and you nod your head. Your eyes squeezed closed at the feeling of having him all the way in you, his girth stretching you out completely. 

You can’t keep your hips from swiveling on him, and he hisses out your name as he begins thrusting slowly within you. The thrusts are constant, rhythmic, and toe-curling. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, a silent scream escapes your mouth as he continues to pound into you.

The blazing heat of your core making you sweat as his body shifts so that Shouto has his torso pressed against yours. It’s so hot now. 

The heat of your boyfriend, the heat of your sex, and the passion of your love have you scraping your nails against his back. Your hips meeting his at every thrust, every grunt he makes, every time he calls your name it sends you to a higher level.

You can’t seem to remember what it was like to be cold as you move up and down with every thrust. The closeness of it all, and the smell of sex is becoming too much. It’s too great.

“F-Faster--oh fuck, just like that-- please!” You beg against his neck. Shouto nods his head as he moves his slightly sweaty forehead against your collarbone, he raises your leg to rest on his hip, and his pounding intensifies on all aspects.

At this, new angle and speed, it’s easy for Shouto to find your g-spot, and at the loud scream you let out, he knows this as well. So he continues doing what he did initially and is pounding away at your g-spot. The overwhelming sensation of the particular area sets your skin on fire. His name a prayer as you chant it repetitively, screaming it on multiple occasions. It gets to the point where you’re no longer able to keep up with his thrusts and let him handle pleasing you. The pressure in your belly is overwhelming once again, and without meaning to, you orgasm again. Sweet yells escaping your lips as Shouto doesn’t stop.

Your body convulses under his, and Shouto’s own pace is hindered at the feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against him. Your sweet moan escaping your lips as Shouto trembles against you as he groans your name. He releases himself in you, as he finishes chasing both your orgasms. 

Shouto collapses to the side of you as pants of air is exchanged between the both of you. The two of you stare at each other, your eyes meeting his in love and lasting intimacy. His lips press against yours as he finally pulls out from within you. A delicate moan on both your tongues as he does so.

“Well...” You whisper, your voice is hoarse from the intensive screaming you had been doing. “We better warm-up and find out why we were dropped off in the middle of nowhere.”

Shouto chuckles as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You sure you’re ready?”

“I just had sex with my boyfriend in a cave after potentially having hypothermia, I’m ready for everything.”

bonus!

“So, I’ll be reviewing how all of you guys did in these different climates while aiding the civilians around you. There were cameras on you guys at all times, but we will be reviewing them together.” Aizawa says as all twenty-one of you are now back in the woods of your training camp to return to the intensive training.

Your eyes widen as you snap your head towards Shouto. “Aizawa-sensei!” You squeak as Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk about Shouto and my tape real quick?”

“How much you want to bet they fucked?” Kaminari ‘whispers’ to the class, but the burning ears of both you and your boyfriend creates anarchy as Aizawa walks away from the class.

Stupid horny teenagers.

[wifiwuxians]

Hypothermia

here we have the two things that came to mind

Nie Huaisang’s body hit the water. 

He had lost his footing walking by the river’s edge and had fallen right into its cold current, not cold enough to be frozen but well on its way. The harsh gasp he let out upon coming into contact with the water had alerted his traveling companions. 

Not two seconds after he’d fallen in, a second body threw itself after him.

Golden robes floated in the water as firm arms wrapped themselves around Nie Huaisang, who felt like he was going into shock from the water’s temperature. He’d never been one to dip in cold springs.

“Don’t struggle, don’t struggle, I’ve got you.”

Jin Guangyao’s voice was soft and reassuring, even as he was speaking over the sound of rushing water. 

Nie Huaisang then realized he was gripping Jin Guangyao by the shoulders, trying to pull him under. 

I want you to drown. 

He flailed and struggled, but Jin Guangyao remained afloat as he brought him over to shore, where Lan Xichen awaited them anxiously. 

My brother should’ve been the one to rescue me.

Jin Guangyao was utterly unharmed. He hoisted Nie Huaisang out of the water and onto the grass, and only climbed out after him once he made sure Lan Xichen was tending to him. 

Nie Huaisang felt burning fury course through him when he saw Jin Guangyao looming over him, looking genuinely concerned. Not a single muscle on his face gave away anything other than worry- not even his eyes appeared to be smiling. 

In fact, with the droplets that clung to his eyelashes, he looked like he was crying. 

“San-ge is...” Nie Huaisang paused to cough, “too kind...”

I miss when this was true. 

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao did not even seem to suspect that Nie Huaisang had tried to drown him on purpose. “I’ll always look after you.”

Nie Huaisang closed his eyes and fought the urge to cry, to give up on everything and go back to living the lovingly crafted lie they’d all been living before.

I miss you.

-

here’s the second 

Jin Guangyao sobbed over the empty grave with all his might. His small frame shook violently and his eyes burned from how many tears they’d shed.

‘Nie Mingjue, beloved son, brother, lover and friend.’

It was his best performance yet. Good enough to get his father to awkwardly shuffle over to him. 

“Come now, son, you’re making a spectacle. I know he was your, ah, partner, but,” Jin Guangshan spoke as if he’d swallowed cyanide.

Jin Guangyao sniffled and dried his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. He rose to his feet and bowed his head.

“You’re right, father, I mustn’t make it about me. It’s simply that,” his voice began to tremble with the threat of fresh tears, “I don’t know how I’ll go on... All our savings went to Huaisang’s tuition, and you know I’ve always refused your money, and oh, now I’ll need to sell the house...”

Jin Guangshan’s expression soured further. Jin Guangyao knew it was because he couldn’t deny that his son had never asked him for a single coin.

“Well, ah, see, about that. The deceased’s family and I have come to an agreement.” Jin Guangshan crammed his hands into his pockets. “We’ve decided it would only be right to aid you during your time of need.”

Jin Guangyao sniffled again and looked up at his father with awestruck eyes, as if he were looking at a god.

“A sizable amount, of course. Should last you until you’re able to find your feet again,” Jin Guangshan sniffled as well, but not from crying; moreso from effort, as if he were exerting himself by being charitable. “Pay me back in your own time.”

“Oh, father, thank you, thank you! I am forever in your debt!” Jin Guangyao bowed again and again, and when he caught sight of the remainder of Nie Mingjue’s family, he called out to them with the same enthusiasm. “Thank you so much!”

The Nie clan remained silent at his display, but Nie Huaisang subtly angled his fan towards a small black car parked at the entrance to the cemetery. Jin Guangyao adjusted his tie and sighed.

“Forgive me, but I must begin to sort things out right away. Shall we meet tomorrow for lunch to work out details?” He gave his father that hopeful, sparkling gaze again.

“Of course, of course. Go on,” Jin Guangshan sniffled once more. 

With one final bow, Jin Guangyao rushed off to the cemetery’s entrance, where he slid into the little black car’s back seat and immediately shed his disguise.

“Like a charm,” he murmured, crossing his legs as he typed in a reminder for the next day in his calendar.

“I still feel guilty for deceiving them,” Nie Mingjue sighed gruffly beside him. “Though I can’t say I’ll miss them very much.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay your family back in full,” Jin Guangyao grinned and flopped himself into Nie Mingjue’s lap. “A-Liu, be an angel and get us out of here!”

The car leisurely drove away from the cemetery just as Nie Mingjue began to laugh.

“I’ll admit, me dying of hypothermia is fucking hilarious.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Hypothermia (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Tommy

Word Count: 909

Inspired By: the snowstorm yesterday :)

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: LISTEN this is pretty dark. It wasn't the original idea I had, but this is where it went, and there was no stopping it. And it's dark. But I kinda like it, idk. It's macabre (that's the right word) so be warned!!!! Also wanna preface this and say ya gurl is good mentally lol. Usually with writing like this I'm not feeling too great, but I am today! It probably just won't seem like it if you read it! Anyways, feedback is always appreciated, but I understand if you don't read 💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

Your fingers black, dead, hanging by a thread from the palms of your hands. Your lips blue, purple, gruesome, envious of the bruises under your eyes. Nesting on your eyelashes, flakes of every size and shape, nursing off the warmth of your blood. Tears stuck to the sides of your cheeks, running their cold hands across your skin, so thin, so breakable, promising you everything would be okay in the end. Your exposed arms, legs, body shaking, shivering, but welcoming the wind that enveloped you so tenderly. With the softest touch, the sharpest bite, it kissed you up and down, making vows to keep you safe, to make it all worth it, to care about you like nothing else could. Words like those were empty, howling in your ears, rustling the heavy trees with the weight of itself, but there was so little to cling to, you would have believed anything. Part of you stopped doubting it altogether, buying into this, burying yourself six feet under, digging with your own dead hands.

Swirling, twirling, your bare feet sinking in the snow one step at a time, crunching, pounding, screaming. You couldn't feel yourself anymore. No more begging skin, crying, yearning to be sliced open. It wasn't the vulnerability, but the aftercare. The dripping red, the white bandages, the very act of being so kind, so caring to something, someone, so undeserving. The childlike touch, scared, hesitant, even with your own skin. No more wasting, eroding, no more hunger. That empty feeling, the growling, burning, stinging in the back of your mind, the want to be hollow. Like nothing else. The upper hand, but to what? To who? A sick game you played against yourself where there were no winners, no losers, only dying. Slowly, but not sweetly. There was nothing sweet about starving. No more decaying. The side of your skull pressing, throbbing, suffocating. Your own mind became the enemy, the cause of your downfall. Pleading, praying, for it to stop. People weren't supposed to want to hurt themselves, not like this, not this violently.

But there was no way to stop this itch.

Not without the cold.

You didn't like it at first. It was uncontrollable, nipping, biting, sinking it's teeth too far too quickly. Hungry, like you. Angry. So goddamn angry. Fuming, panting, crying out of rage. Your skin prickling, vibrating, craving the warmth of the inside. It left you panting, struggling for air. Tachypnea. It put an impossible weight atop your bones, laughing, mocking, wanting to see you plummet. Crushed. Frightening. Too much. You escaped, running, seeking out the nearest source of warmth, the nearest set of arms. It scared him. The cold, that chill, was too far set, took the last ounce of control. A drug of choice. A confusion, a haze, something to blur the lines, to make facing the day a little easier. You promised him, no more, but the stars saw something else. Slipping from the bed you visited again, someone who'd become an old friend. She would learn, to calm, to take freely, but carefully. The chattering of your teeth, threatening to crack, to break, to burst. At first, just the ends. Then, your whole fingerprint, until it chewed you up and spit you out. Frostbite.

Not all at once. She was patient, needy, friendless. You were the only one who shared your skin to her, exposing every inch of yourself, giving yourself to her as if she were God. The threat of the sun poking out from the rooftops, she'd urge you back to your place. You couldn't be caught, not like this. Rotting. There were changes. Subtle. Gradual. Your summer skin was gone, ripped away just when he needed it the most. The red under your nails gone, the ache in your hips dulled, the heartbeat in your head slowing. Things were looking up, he thought. He hoped. Small times he wished for, bouts of joy, of happiness, no more sinking in the bedsheets, choking on the all the blue screams that lived inside you. Maybe this was one of these times, his favorite times. But he didn't realize, when the weather froze, and the snowflakes fell, was when it got even worse. . . .

Tommy found you out there, frozen, dressed in nothing but those thin pajamas, a serene look on your face. Peaceful. Eyes closed, listening to the wind howl, watching the sheer force of mother nature, the ruthlessness of her blizzard cutting you right down the middle, taking everything from you because that's what she thought she deserved. Entitled. Unrecognizable. Unreadable. He'd never been so angry. At her, for hunting you down at your most vulnerable, for promising so much, for being that final escape. At himself, for not noticing, for thinking things were getting better. Naive, foolish, a fucking idiot. At you, for caving in, for hugging her with her claws, for kissing her icy cheeks, instead of going to him when you needed help, like he'd begged for countless times before.

He was too late, though.

You were preserved in the ice, in the clouds, your words carried by the same wind that took your voice in the first place. You were always looking for escapes, ways out. There was a comfort in this one, beneath the fear, beneath the snow, there had to be something that made this your finale. He went looking for it every time the temperature dipped below freezing.

[nev3rfound]

waiting to unpause : s.r

brief summary: everyone has a soul mate. some just take a bit longer to find theirs than most. 

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, just another idea I had in work lmao warnings: mention of blood, some swearing.

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions 

Even before everything in his life changed, Steve knew of soulmates. He witnessed people he grew up with walking hand in hand with theirs whilst he trailed behind Bucky. He would watch Bucky go from one girl to the next, claiming each of them was potentially the one. Steve knew none of them ever were but went along with it for Bucky’s sake.

Part of him always wished he would find his. He knew the signs of a soul mate. You would feel their pain. You could see what had hurt them, a mark, a cut or a bruise would appear on your body. The slightest of injuries would occur to most, but never to Steve.

“It’s official, I’m broken, Buck.” Steve would sigh as Bucky walked him to his front door, hanging his arm around his best friends shoulders.

Bucky shook his head whenever Steve tried to deny his chance of happiness. “All you gotta do is find a girl who looks like she’s dying, can’t be too hard.” Bucky joked, trying to catch a smile on Steve’s face. Sometimes it would work, other times the weight of loneliness became too intense and he shrugged it off, shutting his door behind him.

When Steve went to the war and met Peggy, he thought that was it. Inside he wanted it to be her, the loving woman who was so powerful and seemingly fearless. Who wouldn’t want her?

But when he glanced down to see a cut on her wrist, he never felt that happen. He didn’t have a mark across his skin like hers. Steve flicked his skin multiple times and watched redness burn, but as he would glance to Peggy she remained still. There wasn’t anything on her.

Looking ahead as he crossed the ocean he sighed, realising his options. “I’ve got to, Peggy.” Steve spoke with a heavy heart through the radio, unaware of the tears forming in Peggy’s eyes as she sat alongside Howard. “There’s nothing left for me. No family, no friends, no soulmate.” He sighed lightly as he neared the ice. “Take care, Peg.”

Closing his eyes, he hit the ice and felt everything drain. All Steve felt was the cold bury underneath his skin as he drifted off, never to open his eyes again.

*

When you were born, you were freezing. It didn’t matter what the Doctors did or tried, you couldn’t warm up. Within the first few hours of you being born, you nearly died due to the lack of warmth in your body. Your Mother cried, not understanding why this was happening to you.

If only they knew why.

For the first ten years of your life, you were kept wrapped up. You were forever cold, never able to feel truly warm. The risk of hypothermia was always a constant in your life.

Even in the midst of summer, you remained in layers; a scarf around your neck whilst everyone else wore vest tops and sweated. You wished you weren’t different, you wished you could be normal.

At twenty, you woke up in a hot sweat. You looked around your bedroom in case it was on fire, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You rushed out of bed and went straight to your bathroom where you saw beads of sweat. Actual beads of sweat running from your hairline. You laughed and you cried as you didn’t shiver for the first time in your entire life.

You called for your parents, none of you understood, but you were relieved to feel warmth at long last. For once, you felt normal.

If only that sense of relief lasted longer than a year.

You would forever wake up with bruises and cuts lining your skin. Whoever your soulmate was, they sure as hell didn’t live an easy life.

Once the marks started, your parents explained to you what it meant. How everyone in the world has someone they can be with. You listened as they tended to the newest wound, a bullet scrape as they wiped away the pain as tears formed in your eyes.

“My soulmate is fucking suicidal aren’t they?” You cried, a laugh escaping your lips mid sob as your parents exchanged a worried glance, fearing to agree with you.

Over the next few years, you grew to hate your soulmate. They were never calm or without some form of injury. Twice you woke up with a black eye causing your friend to jump out of her skin when you walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve had enough.” She sighed loudly before typing something into her phone as you sat with a bag of frozen peas over your eye. “We’re getting tattoos.”

You simply blinked out of your good eye. “A tattoo?” You spoke quietly, watching as she nodded in response.

“Obviously your soul mate can feel the pain, and they’ll get the outline of the tattoo as well. Who knows, pick something unique you’ll find them.” She suggests and you sit, contemplating the idea as you finish breakfast feeling the peas defrosting over your bruised skin.

Leaving the tattoo parlour, you looked down at your upper arm. It was a stem of lavender and a snowflake settling alongside the side. You smiled at the design, pleased as you walked home.

You only managed to get halfway when you saw the news reports. Everyone began to run in all directions as fear ignited in the crowds. “What’s happening?!” You yelled to your friend who gripped your hand tightly as she pulled you inside of a coffee shop.

“It’s happening again, another invasion.” Her voice dripped in fear as her eyes widened at the sights outside. She held you close, feeling your clothes begin to dampen as blood-stained your top and jeans. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” She stammered, looking down to see you unconscious in her arms.

After the battle of New York, you decided to find somewhere quieter to live. You couldn’t leave the city, it was your home.

You ended up in an old apartment block. It was heavily dated, but the rent was within budget, unlike the majority of places you found. You could get comfortable, despite the chipped paint that you would find flakes of on your floor every day or the neighbour you never met.

One of your neighbours, you met simply by chance. You were walking out, about to go for a drink with an old friend when she caught you off guard. She introduced herself.

“Sorry, I’m Sharon.” She held out her hand, a small scar across her index finger.

You began to notice the small marks more and more. Part of it was paranoia, the other was mere curiosity. “Y/n. And I’m sorry for staring.”

The two of you became close friends. With Sharon’s long disjointed hours, you would find time whenever you could. It became a routine of yours as she mentioned her neighbour, the one you’ve heard across the creaking floorboards but have yet to meet in person.

It was only when there was an intense heatwave in New York that Sharon asked about your soul mate. You couldn’t bear to be kept in layers, so you walked around in your bra and shorts.

You could feel Sharon’s eyes widening as she saw the scars covering your skin. “Gotta blame good ol’ soulmate.” You would joke, knowing humour is the only way to cover the pain of it all.

Sharon sat down with you on the small balcony, designed clearly for a single person alone. You sat and spoke for hours about the reality of having someone out there destined for you.

“I’m at a point where I think it’s bullshit.” You tell her as you sip your drink. “I was born with hypothermia, lived the first twenty years of my life as an icicle and now I’m forever being battered.” You shake your head, glancing over to see something change in Sharon’s expression. “You alright over there?” You ask with a smile.

Sharon snaps out of her realisation with a curt nod. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” She tells you, listening as you carry on but in her head, all she’s thinking is how she can get you and him in the same place at the same time.

It took months for her to get you both to be in at the same time. Sharon learnt neither of you were easy people to pin down. She anticipated it with Steve, but there was still so much of you that remained a mystery. 

When her Aunt Peg died, she told her to make sure Steve found his soul mate. It sounded like a daunting task, but finding someone covered in scars from battles they’d never been in couldn't be too hard, right?

“Y/n, you in?” Sharon knocked on your door loudly, knowing Steve would be in, listening to his old music. “Y/n, I really need your help. I’ve been locked out again.” She sighs loudly, hoping to hear his door open.

Just like that, Steve walks out of his apartment. He stands tall, his eyes slightly bloodshot as he forces a small smile. “Hey Sharon, you alright?” He asks as he stands by his door, crossing his arms. 

Sharon nods. “Yeah, I got locked out.” She laughs uneasily, continuing to knock on your door. “Y/n has my spare, I hope she’s in.” 

Steve doesn’t reply, he stands unsure what do to. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Steve replies and turns around, only stopping when he feels a light pain spread across his right shin.

“-shit sorry!” Your voice sounds loudly through your door, and suddenly Steve isn’t so desperate to go back into his apartment. 

Opening your front door, you rub your right shin as you stand in front of Sharon, holding up her key. “What’d you do this time?” She laughs lightly, looking down. 

You roll your eyes. “I just tripped over my shoes. Hit my shin once again.” You tell her with a small smile before glancing over her shoulder, seeing a stranger stood to observe. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met?” You call out, stepping forward toward the broad man. 

Hesitating, Steve watches your smile falter as you pass Sharon. 

Steve glances to Sharon who nods, giving him an encouraging smile as he steps closer toward you, shaking your hand. He focuses on your face, noticing a scar above your left temple. It’s just a coincidence, it must be. 

“I’m Steve.” He introduces himself, his hand still in yours as you nervously laugh before pulling away. 

“Y/n.” You reply, stuck in a moment as you stare into his eyes. 

Lifting your arm up, you run your fingers through your hair and Steve’s eyes wander to the pastel tattoo on your inner upper arm. He tries to encourage his heart to not plummet, but he’s caught staring by Sharon. 

“Anyway, I’ll drop the keys back to you, Y/n?” She calls out, knowing you can’t hear her as you smile to Steve, feeling a sense of comfort cross your body as you stand in front of him. 

Closing her front door, Sharon smiles to herself knowing she would’ve made her Aunt Peg proud. She finally helped Steve find his soul mate, and prove there is someone for everyone. 

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 9/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,604 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: ...you all knew going into this it was slow burn, yeah? ....right??

Chapter 9 - In Which Closeness is a Matter of Perspective

“Lyddy, when I said I would help you with the art show, I meant things like… carrying equipment. Or getting props. Maybe picking up extra film.” Holidae subtly tried to adjust the position of her foot, pins and needles already crawling along her skin. “Being a model is not on that list.”

Lydia walked over, kicking Holidae’s foot back into place, “You are helping. Hold still, you keep twitching and get all blurry.”

Infinitely thankful that they were quite alone in the cemetery that afternoon, Holidae muttered under breath, trying her best to hold the poses as Lydia commanded them. She was wrapped in several layers of sheer black organza, designed to mimic a sort of mourning gown with a bit of wedding charm thrown in for flavor. The result was surprisingly effective, but did nothing to stave off the cold autumn weather, and Holidae could already feel her extremities freezing over. She did promise Lydia she would help her a photo shoot, and she learned a valuable lesson about not trusting the small photographer as far as she could throw her.

“I think my fingers are frozen. They’re blue,” Holidae leaned against the nearby headstone for support.

“So are your lips, now hush.” Lydia maneuvered herself around the other girl, the camera shutter firing rapidly. “Lean back like you’re just overwhelmed with grief.”

“I’m overwhelmed with something,” Holidae tried to do as she was told, dipping her body backwards as far as she could. “This good?”

“More.” Another series of clicks.

Holidae wobbled, catching herself on the headstone, “I don’t bend that much.”

“Try,” Lydia came over and tried to balance her friend, who promptly caught her funny bone on the granite grave marker.

“Fuck you, you try!” Holidae hissed in pain, rubbing her elbow furiously. “Or you best pay a chiropractor.”

Lydia went back to her equipment, fiddling around with some different lenses, and giving Holidae a much needed break before they tried again. This wasn’t the first time she had roped her friend into posing for her photos, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last despite protests from the model. No matter what Lydia would try and get her to do, or how she would dress her up, Holidae would just go along with it. It was like having a doll to dress-up and torture in creative ways.

The only request Holidae ever made was that her face never be in full view, and Lydia always respected her wish. Whether it be a large hat brim, or in today’s case a veil, Holidae was kept away from curious eyes. The truth of the matter was Holidae was embarrassed of her looks, and always had been. Self-esteem was a rough, bumpy road to traverse; and there were good and bad days.

It was a touchy subject, and Lydia never pushed it.

Lydia tapped her fingernails on her camera bag, trying to think of a solution to the posing problem. After a few minutes, she let out an ah-ha, getting up and brushing some leaves off of her skirt. In one quick breath, she spoke her ghostly best friend’s name three times in a row, summoning him outside of the house for a change.

Beetlejuice looked happier than he’d been in a while, smiling ear to ear, and picking up the small girl with a twirl, “Lyds! We’re in a graveyard! What’s the special occasion? Someone die? Someone needing to die? Picking out a good plot? Don’t get one by a tree or the roots will get all gnarly and stick into your casket.”

Laughing as he set her down, she shook her head, “No, I need a favor, but nothing that major.”

He stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, looking like a noir film detective, “Anything for you, babes.”

“I need you to bend Holidae over,” Lydia said pointing over to the woman desperately trying to warm herself up.

BJ did a double take so hard there was an audible crack of his neck, “…do what now?”

“Balance issues. If you go over there and help, I can get the pose I want and you won’t show up in the picture. It’ll look super cool, trust me. Just go over and she’ll explain what I want.” Lydia waved him away, unconcerned with her phrasing.

There was a moment of hesitation on Beetlejuice’s part; not really sure if this whole thing was a setup in some way that would get him banished forever, or something worse. Well, if Lydia wanted him to be a helpful little demon, who was he to argue with such an opportunity.

Humming to himself, he flourished his stroll over to Holidae with a spin, “Oh, what have we here? Getting all dressed up just for me, Holly-hock? I just adore the shade of blue on your skin.”

Holidae tried to straighten herself up, covering the more see-through parts of the draping with her arms, “W-what are you doing o-out h-here? Fuck it’s cold.”

Beej pulled her tight against him, “Body heat is the best solution of hypothermia, right?”

“Not when you’re an ice cube!” She shivered, torn between accepting his offer and freezing to death right then and there.

“Hey! Less flirting, more posing!” Lydia barked at the two of them. “Save that stuff for indoors, it’s gross. He’s there to hold you up so you don’t bash your head open on the rock.”

“Lydia, you say one more word and I’m throwing your camera off the bridge.” Holidae pried herself out of his arms, readjusting him so that he would support her back. “If you drop me, you’re dead.”

Beej snickered, giving her flesh a hard pinch, “Already dead, baby.”

“Smartass.” Holidae grit her teeth, but bent back with her arms splayed our behind her, “And I am fully aware that you’re getting a good view of my cleavage, so don’t even start with me.”

“I am getting Lyds the best birthday gift this year,” Beetlejuice made a very obvious show of studying Holidae’s chest.

Over the next hour, Lydia would move her two companions in different ways, getting the most out of the fact BJ wouldn’t show up in the film. It saved a lot of money on expensive photo editing programs; but it was also just a fun way to spend the afternoon together in a new environment. When things would get too serious, Beetlejuice would make some face at Holidae to get her laughing, ruining the next few shots Lydia took until they could compose themselves. Or, at least Lydia was claiming they were ruined.

She wasn’t about to tell them the truth: those candid shots were not being deleted off her camera.

During one of their breaks, Holidae sat herself down on a blanket Lydia had spread out her camera equipment on to keep it from getting dirty, holding her knees to her chest in efforts to keep warm. Without warning, something was dropped onto her head, mussing her hair as she pulled it down. It was a dirty, ratty grey coat. Stained and stitched together in odd places, carrying the heavy scent of tobacco and musty earth.

Strangely enough, it was warmer than she thought it would be, and she wrapped it around her body as best she could, “You might want to wash this once in a while. Maybe just spot clean.”

Beetlejuice flopped down next to her, digging a pack of smokes from the coat pocket, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back. Ungrateful.”

She shook her head, burying herself deeper into the oversized clothing, “No no, I want it. I was just offering a suggestion. Thank you for not letting me freeze, I mean it. Honest.”

He took a long drag, the smoke hanging in the air due to the weather, “Eh, dying is what it is. Done it twice, not that exciting.”

Holidae looked around at the tombstones surrounding them, “Do you think these people would have the same opinion? What if they died doing something exciting?”

“I really don’t feel like digging them up and asking,” He shrugged, holding the cigarette between his teeth. “So what’s Lydia gonna do with all these photos anyway? Seems weird.”

“She keeps telling me she has a theme, but doesn’t want to jinx it with discussion and negative thoughts. I swear, she takes after her stepmother more than she wants to admit.” She picked at the blades of grass by her feet, “I just put up the pictures when they’re done.”

“Well, since she can’t have me as a model, at least she has something decent to work with.” He flipped the edge of the coat up, peeking at her sheer dress. “You’re not as beautiful and sexy as I am, but then again, nobody is.”

Holidae scooted backwards, tucking the coat back tight around her, “Hey, you’ll let the heat out! And good on you for self-confidence, but calling yourself sexy all the time is weird.”

Beetlejuice grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her back toward him, “Are you saying I’m not sexy?”

She was getting tangled in the coat, looking like an unhappy caterpillar, “No, I said that calling yourself sexy is weird. I would really appreciate you listening when I talk to you, Juice. I don’t just say things to hear myself prattle on.”

With a truly maniacal laugh, Beetlejuice jumped up, picking up Holidae in a bridal-style carry, and spun her around with a flourish. “Youuuuu think I’m sexy. You think I’m seeeexy~”

He set her back on her feet, leaving her to balance herself after all the spinning, and ran over to find Lydia.

“Lyds! Lyds, listen listen listen~ you’re friend said I’m sexy. Now you have to take back all those times you said I was only referring to myself as a sexual being to hide the fact that I have a lack of positive self esteem from a childhood borne of neglect. HA! Wait. Why are you running from me? Lydia!”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit