#he's not as um conniving as he looks. i promise. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bangtae-sohotddaeng · 4 years ago

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nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things.

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that."

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other."

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop.

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length.

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him.

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours.

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole.

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself.

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes —

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests.

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and—

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles.

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

#bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #ksmutclub #clubjimin #bts smut #jimin smut #bts angst #jimin angst #bts jimin #park jimin #bts imagine #jimin imagine #*mine #f: nugatory

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angelofthequeers · 3 years ago

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Free to Be You and Me: chapter 20

Chapter 19 | Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

The sun is shining, the pigeons are roo-looing, and Adrien’s left wondering how the world can still be functioning like normal as he slowly climbs the steps into Françoise Dupont. Now he has to go to school and act like everything’s normal, like Lila’s still just a sweet, troubled girl with stories galore for their awestruck classmates rather than a conniving little snake who’d – who’d –

“Adrien!” says a voice behind him. Adrien jumps out of his skin and whirls around, arms raised to fend off…Marinette? “Oh my gosh, are you alright?”

“M-Marinette?” Adrien says numbly.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette waves her hands around. “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

“No, you didn’t. I’m just…tired.” And definitely not because Ladybug had stayed with him for hours after his bath, lying with him and stroking his hair and letting him just exist.

“Y-Yeah! Same!” For some reason, Marinette’s cheeks flush pink. She clears her throat. “Anyway!” She rummages around in her bag; a tacky blue backpack rather than her usual pink one. Adrien vaguely recalls Alya mentioning something about Lila and a coffee incident when giving him the heads-up, and he decides that he doesn’t want to know the details for Lila’s sake. “I thought you might like these!”

“T-Thanks?” Adrien carefully takes the small pink box that’s been thrust at him. It’s a selection of cupcakes, piped with flowers, and something rises in Adrien’s throat because even though this is the first time she’s given him a box of treats, it’s the second time she’s done this for him. How does she know just what to do when he needs it?

“I feel like things have been rough lately,” Marinette says slowly, as though she’s choosing each word with the utmost of care. “And I thought you might appreciate something little. Just to help you through it.”

A sick pit of foreboding starts to settle in Adrien’s stomach. “Marinette, are you – I mean – are you saying –?” Had Ladybug gone and blabbed to Marinette despite promising not to?

“Um…yes,” Marinette admits. “I know.”

“But Ladybug –”

“She had nothing to do with it!” Marinette says quickly. “I have no clue what she knows!”

“Then how –?”

“Lila. She, um…took great pleasure in sending me a photo this morning, like when Kagami got akumatised, and she said she hoped I enjoyed what it took to get her to leave me alone.” Marinette’s face twists. “She’s evil. How could she enjoy something like that? You didn’t even look like you liked it! I was this close to punching her in the face, let me tell you, because I don’t even care what she’s done to me, she doesn’t get to do that to you –”

“Marinette.” Adrien grabs Marinette’s shoulder with his free hand and squeezes. Marinette squeaks and turns bright red. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“Someone should tell she!” Marinette babbles. “I mean – you should tell someone! About her! She can’t get away with it!”

“Tell who?” Adrien says with a twisted smile. He guides Marinette away from the school gates, from the people throwing curious looks their way, no doubt wondering what Adrien Agreste is talking about that’s got him looking so on edge. “No one would believe me.”

“But surely you have proof of some sort! Your place is full of cameras –”

“Marinette, people don’t even believe you, and you’ve torn your own hair out getting evidence for all her lies. Why would anyone believe me? I’m a boy. I’m…rich and handsome and famous.”

I always get what I want. Adrien shudders.

“I got a recording, yeah, but how do I know they won’t twist it around on me?” he continues. “I had to have been asking for it. And I don’t want it to be some massive, drawn-out thing.” He shakes his head and clutches at his hair. “I just…want it all to go away. Please, Marinette.”

“No one’s ever asking for it!” Marinette hisses. The blue fire in her eyes is so like Ladybug’s in the heat of battle that, for a moment, it’s like his lady is standing in front of him instead of one of his best friends. “Don’t you ever think that, you understand me? She’s cruel and evil and one day, her lies are going to catch up with her and she’s going to suffer the consequences of her actions, and you’re going to be standing there laughing because you have actual friends who love you for you and –”

Adrien throws his arms around Marinette before his brain can catch up with him. Marinette gasps and her rant splutters off, but she still hugs him back, which Adrien is thankful for because he’s never quite sure how to read Marinette Dupain-Cheng on any given day.

“Thank you,” Adrien whispers. “You’re one of those true friends, Marinette. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

“Worries no!” Marinette babbles. “Definitely a problem! I mean – it’s definitely no problem at all!”

Despite her being flustered, Marinette still gives Adrien one of her famous hugs that he’d told Ladybug about; she leans into him, hugs him with her whole body, her arms firm around him but not tight and strangling, for him rather than for show. Adrien melts into her touch, rests his cheek against her soft hair, the hair that smells of the same vanilla as Ladybug’s – maybe they use the same shampoo…

“You’re an idiot,” Marinette says, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m gonna help you any way I can, but I just need you to understand that you’re an idiot.”

Adrien just laughs. After a few more moments, he reluctantly releases her; she probably doesn’t want to spend all day just standing there hugging him, and what she’d just given him is so much more than he could have asked for.

“You know…” he says slowly. It’s probably a bad idea but…if he can’t trust Marinette, who can he trust? He just hopes that Ladybug won’t be mad. “Can I, uh, tell you a secret? Something no one else knows?”

Marinette’s brows knit together. “Sure?” she says. “Do you have a long-lost twin brother or something?”

Adrien snorts. “No, that’s just Félix. Um…you remember that video Lila got? Of Ladybug visiting me?”

“Yeeeeah…” Marinette says slowly.

“Well, um, nothing was happening then, I swear, but, uh…she visited me a few more times and we were good friends and it just kind of happened and, um…I’mdatingLadybugshe’smygirlfriend.”

Marinette blinks. “What?”

“I’m dating Ladybug. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Really?” Marinette’s eyes widen to almost comical proportions. “So, you really do have a superhero on-call!”

“No, no!” Adrien says quickly. “I don’t have her phone number or anything. She just visits sometimes and, um…yeah. She’s the girl I love. I just wanted to tell you because I know I can trust you.”

“That means a lot,” Marinette says. Her smile softens her entire face, and Adrien’s insides flutter at the realisation that he’d done that! He’d made Marinette Dupain-Cheng smile! “To know that you trust me that much. Thanks for telling me, Adrien.”

“What are friends for?” Adrien says, hooking an arm over Marinette’s shoulders to lead her back to the main courtyard. He releases her when they reach the crowd – the last thing she needs is for Lila or someone else to see and draw the wrong conclusion entirely – and they thread through the throng of people in search of Alya and Nino. Maybe even Zoé, if they can find her, since she’s not in their class and sometimes hangs out with her own classmates.

“So…” Marinette says. “What’s…Ladybug like? I don’t think anyone other than Chat Noir would know her that well.”

And Rena Rouge, Adrien thinks, but he manages to hold it in just in time. Ladybug would flip if he spilled to someone else that there’s someone who knows her identity. “She’s, well…she’s just awesome.”

“Just awesome?”

“You’re asking me to describe an angel in human words,” Adrien says. Marinette’s cheeks flush scarlet.

“O-Oh. Right! I get it, haha, but, um, just try?”

Adrien sighs and closes his eyes, trusting Marinette to guide him through the crowd as he tries to think of how to describe Ladybug. “She’s so…caring. She cares. About Chat Noir, about Paris, about her friends and family…about me. She’s always there when I need her. I don’t feel like I’m there for her nearly as much.”

“I are you think,” Marinette says sagely. Adrien just takes her stammer in stride.

“She’s so…emotional,” he says, opening his eyes. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything. She just feels so strongly. She’s funny, she’s playful, she’s furious, she’s a mess – she was pretty harsh to Lila over the whole lying about being her best friend thing, and she makes mistakes, but that just makes her more human, you know? She’s not some unattainable statue on a pedestal. She’s…like me.”

“You sound like you really love her,” Marinette says quietly. Adrien ducks his head and smiles.

“I really do.”

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” drawls a familiar voice. Alya’s reclining on one of the benches against Nino, who’s furiously tapping away at some sort of game on his phone. The last spot on the bench is taken up by Zoé, who’s actually lying on the ground with her legs crossed up on the bench, her blonde hair strewn across the concrete.

“Are you sure you won’t catch something?” Marinette says. Zoé grins up at her.

“I’ve already been fraternising with the peasants,” she says with an airy wave. “What else could I catch?”

“Speaking of fraternising,” Marinette says, “Alya and I are having our Saturday sleepover tomorrow, but do you want to come, Zoé?”

“A sleepover?” Zoé’s eyes glimmer. “Of course! I’ve never been to one before! Um, what do I bring?”

Alya chuckles. “I’ll text you the details later. Can Nino come too, Marinette, since it’s not just the two of us now?”

“We-e-ell…”

“Pleeeease?” Alya blinks puppy dog eyes at Marinette, who rolls her eyes.

“Oh, fine. But you get to explain to my parents why there’s a boy staying in my room.”

Like you told them about the times Chat Noir visited you? Adrien desperately wants to say, but he’s not supposed to know about that, so he bites his tongue. Instead, he says, “I’ve never been to a sleepover either. Must be a rich kid thing?”

“You should come too,” Alya says, shooting a strangely shark-like grin at Marinette. Marinette flushes and splutters something unintelligible. “Adrien’s invited, right, girl?”

“Roar!” Marinette shrieks. “I mean – sure!”

“I appreciate that, but I can’t,” Adrien sighs. “Father barely lets me hang out with my friends. He’d never agree to a sleepover. Not unless my bodyguard was with me, like in New York, but this would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“So not fair,” Nino complains while his phone chimes in celebration. Alya raises an eyebrow.

“How can you even follow along and play that at the same time, babe?”

“It’s a gift,” Nino says rather smugly.

“Do you think Kagami would be allowed to come?” Marinette says. “Maybe I could bribe her mother with more pastries, like when I managed to get her out of her fencing practice for an hour. You’d get along great with her, Zoé.”

“Doubt it,” Adrien says. “Same reason as me.”

“Aww.” Marinette’s shoulders slump. “I’d love it if she could come. So not fair that you guys don’t get to be normal teenagers. I may as well invite the rest of the girls, then.”

The bell rings at that instant, signalling an end to the conversation. Marinette reaches down and pulls Zoé to her feet with a strength that belies her slim frame, no doubt from all her time helping her parents in the bakery.

Just like Ladybug, Adrien thinks with a smile. Tiny but deceptively deadly.

“See you tonight!” Zoé says before heading off to class, brushing down her clothes. Marinette turns to Adrien with a kind of grimace-smile.

“Ready to face the music?” she says. Adrien shrugs, while Alya and Nino just stare at them in confusion.

“Better get it over with.”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette bounds the step and a half back to Adrien’s side. “I’ll be your bodyguard away from home!”

Adrien can’t help but laugh at her antics. “Thank you, my brave knight,” he says with a slight bow. Marinette giggles.

“You two are disgusting,” Alya mutters, giving Marinette a look that Adrien can’t begin to decipher. “I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes.”

“It’s cool,” Nino says. “I’ll just keep on being the only guy here who’s not possessed or anything.”

#aotq fic #aotq: free to be #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #zoe lee #anti lila rossi #adrinette #ladrien #love square

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wille-zarr · 4 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian: “Kissing is Disgusting”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Eight ~ “Kissing is Disgusting”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated M for language; angst; threats of violence; alcohol consumption

word count: 12.7k

chapter summary: after waving goodbye to life on arvala-7, you anxiously continue along your journey to nar shaddaa... but when tensions erupt and dangers arise, your bond with the mandalorian is put to the ultimate test.

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: fluff and angst awaits!

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Eight: “Kissing is Disgusting”

Well, so much for promising yourself to behave around the Mandalorian… Only ten days since you were gutted like a colo claw fish, and you’re already back to flirting with a vengeance.

You will never learn, will you?

“Not bad, Ka’r’ika.”

You stare at the target, your brows creasing as you assess your hit.

“Not bad? Kriff it, Din! Look at that!” You fling your arm out in the direction of the target. “My vibroblade hit the inner target ring this time! Almost the bullseye!” You spin around, glaring daggers at him. “How about you give me just a little bit of positive praise for once?” You cross your arms tightly across your chest, a smirk tickling on your lips. “Or would that kill you?”

The Mandalorian tilts his head to the side, hooking two fingers in his belt as he stares over at you. “I did give you praise,” he grumbles through his vocoder.

“Not bad? You call that praise?” You purse your lips, a smile threatening to break the character you were playing. “Din Djarin, have you ever taught anyone anything before? Positive praise is a crucial part of the learning process.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the heavy, long-suffering sigh that slips beneath his helm.

“Fine. You’re doing… okay.” His voice is dry, utterly unbothered by your grievances.

“Well, if I’m still not meeting the Mandalorian’s standards-” you march over to the target, yanking out your vibroblade from where it juts from the board- “you’ll just have to show me how to throw the blade again, step-by-step.”

You casually stroll towards him, twirling the blade between your fingers. Flashing Din an impish grin, you hold your vibroblade out expectantly.

The Mandalorian sighs, heavy and tired. But you’ve spent enough time with him that you could now detect the jest, the amusement layered within his tone.

Spinning around to face the board, it takes every ounce of your willpower to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl as his hands curl around your shoulders, pulling you back against his chest.

Maybe it was a tad conniving of you, but…

You’ve been, uh… faking bad throws… Lots of them.

In fact, you really didn’t require any training from the Mandalorian in vibroblade throwing. A few days prior, you took the initiative to do some independent practice. It only took a few initial swings, and your muscle memory kicked back in, each one of your throws hitting the bullseye, true and center.

But, well, let’s just say you have a reason- a good, though admittedly mischievous reason- for feigning incompetence at the moment…

“Okay, Ka’r’ika-” Din’s gloved hand glides around your shoulder, gently inching its way down your right arm. He pauses at your wrist. “Relax this,” he rumbles right above your ear, his left hand lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“And stop tensing.”

Oh, karking hells. You clench your teeth, trying to ignore how big and warm and close he is. How the kriff are you supposed to just not tense with the Mandalorian glued to the back of your body like a blasted Mynock?

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing!” you squeak. Okay, maybe you had been holding your breath, but, again, he’s glued to your back like a Mynock leeching off electromagnetic energy. How the hell are you supposed to just blasted… breathe?

“Loosen your stance,” he whispers in your ear, releasing your wrist. He takes a step back, and you frown at the loss of his comforting- though admittedly distracting- presence.

You stare at the bullseye, letting your eyes drop-drop-drop down to the outer ring.

There.

Your target. With one last little smirk, you fling your arm back, shift your body weight forward, and give a sharp snap of the wrist.

Bang.

You hit exactly where you intended, the outer ring. Holy shavit, your dad would be proud!

“Hell yeah!”

You catch Din staring at you, head angled curiously at your elation over an apparently even worse throw than before. “Oh, um-” you shrug, flipping your grin for a scowl- “Din, I, uh, I’m just really bad at this. Please, let’s practice hand-to-hand defense now. I’ll have more use for that anyway.”

“No,” he grunts, stalking towards the target to yank your blade out. “You aren’t healed enough.”

“Come on, Din!” You drop down into a fighting stance as he slowly strides back towards you. “I am perfectly healed. Omera’s slathered me in enough bacta to heal a chopped-in-half dewback.”

He moves closer, and you playfully reach out to slap the back of your hand against his Beskar-armored chest.

“Come on, Mandalorian, what are you- WHU- HEY!”

He’s bent you over backwards, trapping you against his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“OOF! DIN!”

“This is what you wanted.”

“Let me go! I wasn’t ready!”

“You weren’t?”

Stars, you hate that stupid smugness in his voice! You wiggle against his hold, but he only presses you tighter under his arm.

“Blast it, Din!” You fling out your hand, landing a sharp smack against his ass. “Let me go, you rusted tin can!”

He drops his hold, and you stumble out from under his arm. You promptly flip around, shooting daggers into his darkened visor. He just stares right back, resting both hands on his hips, all cool and calm against your fire.

You reach up, bunch your hat in your hand, and smack it down against your thigh. “Din Djarin!” you snap. “You take too much pleasure in dominating me!”

He does not answer. Just… stands there- his visor latched on you.

You open your mouth to speak, but you slap it shut when he sharply angles his head to the side. “Ready to try the blade again?” His voice is gruffer than usual, gravelly. Deep and, blast it, okay!

Fucking sexy.

You yank the hat back on your head, crossing your arms tightly across your chest. “Yeah, sure,” you mumble, averting your eyes from him. “And I will hit that karking bullseye.”

You will. Kriff it. You’re done playing your little flirtatious game for attention. It’s time to show the Mandalorian what you’ve been holding back. Make him bloody well proud of you…. Not that you care to make him proud or anything…

You dig the heel of your foot into the dirt, marking your distance from the target. “Watch and learn, Man-do.”

A hand slips under your arm, gripping your elbow from behind. “Relax this time,” Din rasps, low and deep, into your ear. He releases your elbow as swiftly as he had grabbed it. You swallow, ignoring the little lurch in your stomach.

Stars, this man is a menace.

You shake your head, trying to clear it of… uh, distraction. Sighing under your breath, you stare out at the target.

There.

The bullseye.

Pull back.

Aim.

Throw-

“Hello!”

“Pablo!” you yelp, watching as your vibroblade flings well above the target, missing the board altogether. “You absolute dune worm!” Spinning around, you stomp straight up to where Pablo stands a few feet behind Din.

Pablo leaps back, hands forward in surrender. “Wait, what did I do?” He points a finger at himself.

“You-” you slap his hat back- “made me miss!”

With a sharp snort, he leans down to stare you directly in the eyes. “Maybe you just need more practice, sweetheart.”

“Oh, look who’s talking!” You push against his chest. “A man encased in carbonite until I saved-”

“Oh, here we go again! I told y-”

“Din kicked your ass.”

“I was distract-”

“Froze your ass.”

“He was lucky-”

“And I melted your ass.”

“Now look-”

Pablo stills, slapping his mouth shut.

At the same time, a heavy shadow drapes over your body, cloaking you within a protective cocoon. You look to the right.

“Mando,” you smirk up at Din. “I’ve changed my mind. Teach me to use a staff. Then I can keep Pablo six feet away at all times.”

You hear a puff of modulated air. “As you please, Ka’r’ika.” The words are husky through his helmet’s vocoder. He hooks a finger in his belt. “But not until you’re completely healed.”

“Works for me,” you grin, letting your lazy outer rim accent slip forward. “Pablo, scram, blurg-brain. But get my blade first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pablo sighs, throwing you a half-hearted salute.

“You did well today.”

The grin on your face grows, practically ear-to-ear. You peek out from under your hat’s brim, meeting the Mandalorian’s dark visor boring into your eyes.

“You’ll be as good as me one day.” The Mandalorian says it so low, so quiet that you could barely hear it over the breeze whipping through the homestead. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns to watch Pablo walk up, your vibroblade extended from his hand.

Pablo winks as you take the blade from him. “Later, sweetheart.” Chuckling, he strolls towards the hut, thankfully leaving you and Din alone once again.

“Come on now-” you turn back to Din- “I could never be a professional such as yourself.” You snort before continuing, “I mean, how long have you been learning all this Mandalorian stuff? Years, I imagine.”

Din drops his hand from his belt, slowly turning, pausing upon finding a few of the children running in the distance. “See the children?”

You nod.

He drops his visor away from your face. “I wasn’t much older than they are now-” his voice slows, warming with each word he speaks- “when I was taken in as a foundling.”

You blink. “Oh.”

You might not be able read his face, but you recognize the raw emotion hidden in his tone all too well.

“I owe them my life,” he rasps, the words scratchy through the vocoder. “After my parents died, the Mandalorians took me in as one of their own.”

Silence.

Oh…

You- you hadn’t realized. Din mentioned his parents died during the Clone Wars, but not that the Mandalorians had rescued him, taken him in. The thought of a young Din, alone and scared, trapped in the middle of a war a child could never comprehend…

Kriff.

You swallow the lump in your throat. It… hit too close to home.

“We really do have a lot in common,” you mumble, your eyes drifting along the gleaming sunlight crowning his Beskar helm.

He barely nods at your words.

Then the air turns… awkward, tense… neither of you knowing what exactly to say or do next. You mindlessly flip your vibroblade over in your hand, afraid any words would make the air even more uncomfortable. I mean, what do you say? Hey, Din! It’s great we can bond over our dead families?

“To be honest-” you nearly drop the blade at Din’s voice- “I… didn’t learn much about blade throwing from the Mandalorians.”

You raise an eyebrow, questioning the hesitation in his voice.

“When I was younger, a woman... a Twi’lek…” He shuffles his weight back and forth, looking everywhere, it seems, but at you.

Oh.

You raise an eyebrow.

“A woman?” You smile a bit too sweetly, nudging the Mandalorian with an elbow. “A lover, perhaps?”

He stares out at the distance, but you think you notice a slight shrug.

You force a laugh, more a bark, to be honest.

“Was she pretty?”

Silence.

You lean forward, tapping his armor with the end of your blade.

“Did she… break your heart?”

He looks at you.

“She tried to stab it.”

You sheath the blade.

“Well,” you puff, “that’d certainly kill a relationship.”

Yanking your blade back out, you fling it over and over and over in your hand, trying to ignore the burn searing up your throat.

Whoever she is, blast her.

Kriffing blast her.

You gasp- a glove shot out, gripping your wrist before you can toss the blade again.

“Are you trying to lose a finger?”

You rip your hand away, twisting around to hide the warmth exploding across your face. “Don’t coddle me, Din. I’ll never learn if I don’t face peril.”

He makes a noise you cannot decipher.

“My dad taught me,” you blurt, eager to change topics. “With knives, a little bit, I-I mean.” You slowly turn back to the Mandalorian, finding him still, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You bite your lower lip, picking at the edge of your sleeve with the blade. “But I never took his lessons very seriously. I…I just wanted to make him laugh at my stupid antics, which, of course, he would.” You smile wryly. “But, still, I wish I’d taken a lot of things more seriously back then... I was too busy being a terror.”

Din makes a noise. A breathy “not surprised” slips out from beneath his helm.

You crinkle your nose, choosing to pretend you didn’t hear that.

Spinning your blade a few times, you stop, sheathing it once again. “You know, he’d sneak me up into the ice caves sometimes. Stars, from as young as I can remember. Taught me to use vibroblades and, eventually, even how to swing a staff. I guess he had it in his head he could turn us into little snow warriors or something.”

You throw Din a cheeky, lopsided grin. “But then me and my sister started beating each other with big sticks when we’d get angry at each other. Then we’d gang up on my middle brother- two sticks against one.” You burst into warm laughter at the memory. “Kriff, did we ever get a long lecture. Even longer than the time I taught my siblings to use the curse ‘kark’.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve changed much.” The Mandalorian’s tone is layered with amusement, and a hint of… something else.

“No,” you snort. “That’s the problem.” You crouch down on the ground, pretending you’re aiming in the distance with a weapon. “But he loved showing me how to use his hunting rifle the best, even though I had horrible aim…. Uh, still do, actually.” You let your eyes droop closed, releasing a heavy breath into the air. “That thing was his baby.”

Damn it.

You miss him.

The clank of Beskar forces you to open your eyes. The Mandalorian’s standing in front of you now, a hand stretched out.

“I thought he was a herder.”

Taking Din’s hand, you let him pull you back up.

“Oh, he was,” you chirp. Bending down, you brush the dirt off the knees of your pants. “But weapons were his hobby, practically his religion, as my mother would tease.” With a small smile, you toss the Mandalorian a pointed look. “I think he would have liked you. Or, at least, your big-ass rifle.”

The Mandalorian just shrugs.

“Well,” you sigh, staring out at the target again while simultaneously removing your blade from its sheathe. “I think I’ve gotten the hang of this now.”

Pull back.

Aim.

Throw.

Slam.

“Not bad,” you sniff, staring at your blade protruding from the center bullseye. “You’re a good teacher, Din. We’ll have to find something else for you to teach me.” You slap him on the back. “I have a few ideas.” You turn to walk away, biting back your giggle.

You hear him make a noise, barely audible with the distance.

“Looks like you could teach me...”

-------

You’re gunna throw up.

You can’t believe you’re leaving this- this haven tomorrow… for kriffing Nar Shaddaa.

Holy Hutt. Nar Shaddaa-

The planet you actually just fled from with only the clothes on your back…

Oh, flutterplume at a festival feast!

You’re insane. You’re actually insane.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting hard to restrain any sign of outward distress. After all, if there’s one lesson the galaxy beat into your brain, it’s that you never, ever show any sign of weakness. Got to keep the upper hand. Got to stay ten steps ahead… Or, in your case, at least appear to be…

No, as far as anyone on Arvala is concerned, you’re excited for Keolith.

…Kriff Keolith.

You release a heavy sigh, continuing to bounce the child up and down on your knee, a small smile growing on your face with every little giggle that falls from his mouth.

“Make sure to take it easy, not overdo it,” Omera calls at you from the other side of the room.

“Mhm,” you mumble, barely paying her any mind.

“I mean it. Din, make sure she obeys, okay?”

He makes a noise. “I’d wager-” the Mandalorian lays his rifle down on the table- “it’d be easier to wrangle a varactyl.”

“Din Djarin-” you keep your eyes focused on the baby, wincing as he yanks on your hair- “did you just call me a varactyl?”

“… No.”

“I give up,” Omera groans, taking the chair across from where you sit. “I learned a long time ago; patients never listen-” she sighs- “until they’ve reinjured themselves.”

You lift your eyes to meet her own. “Wait, Omera, you were a doctor?”

She laughs at the question. “I suppose it’s safe to say so, now that the Empire is gone.” She rests her elbows on the table. “I was a nurse in the Rebellion, which is where I met my late husband, a patient of mine. When I found myself expecting Winta, we felt it was time to step away together, leave the battle behind.”

“Pin two ears on a gundark!” You lean back in your chair, laughing in amazement. “No way! I knew I liked you!”

The Mandalorian angles his head to the side, eyeing Omera up and down.

“Don’t give me that look, Din,” she chuckles, giving his shoulder a light shove. “You never asked.”

“Maker-” you shift the baby to your opposite knee- “sounds like a story straight out of a holo. Meeting the man of your dreams in a rebellion, nursing him back to health.”

“I suppose,” Omera smiles, that certain gleam in her eyes you’ve seen before.

Uh oh.

“What about you?”

“Me? What about me?”

Omera smiles, not about to let you get away with your game. ��You can’t tell me you’ve never been in love before.”

Oh Maker.

Dangerous.

This conversation is dangerous.

“Maybe,” you grumble, bouncing the baby on your knee again.

Oh kriff.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll find someone.” You can see Omera is trying her absolute hardest not to laugh, but she’s obviously failing.

Stars.

Someone.

Anyone.

Help!

As if answering your plea breathed into the force, Winta dashes over, pulling on her mother’s hand and whispering for assistance. Omera nods at you, that sly smile still etched on her face, and steps away from the table.

Oh, thank the Maker! Bless all the little children.

With a weary sigh, you sneak a glance over at Din from the corner of your eye. He’s watching you… intently, helmet angled to the side in that curious Lothcat way of his. He begins to lean forward, as if he’s about to ask you a-

No. Kark that.

Kark that shit!

You’ve had enough awkwardness for one day!

You burst up from your chair, cradling the baby against your chest. “We’re going to take a walk,” you speak to Din as much as to the baby. You shoot him a quick glance.

He’s still leaned forward, visor still trained on your face. He’s motionless, but relaxed, shoulders slightly slumped forward, the way they do when he’s tired. You read his silence as permission, and so you turn and walk out the door, trying to ignore the lingering sear of heat on your back, that lingering prickle of being watched.

Once you are through the door, you put as much distance between you and Kuill’s hut as quickly as possible, worried the Mandalorian might try and follow you outside. Grumbling under your breath, you stop at the fence line. You point up at the moon and stars, whispering for the baby to look up at them along with you.

“See those?” you whisper, grinning as the child’s large, soulful eyes fill with the reflections of hundreds of sparkling stars. “You’re just as special as those stars. Your force abilities are special, a gift.” You feel your heart swell with familiar, motherly warmth. “Special- just like you are to your father.”

You tap your finger against his nose, and he bursts into a fit of giggles. “You little womp rat, quit laughing.” You shoot him an exaggerated frown. “It’s against the law to laugh.”

He laughs even harder. And so you start laughing.

“The child’s grown fond of you.”

You startle at the voice, relaxing when you see it’s just Kuill, limping forward to stand beside you at the fence. “Yes-” you turn your eyes back to the baby’s face- “I suppose, like most children, they’re drawn to whomever shows them the most attention, ya little attention-seeking womp rat.” You caress his ear, smiling wistfully. “Mando doesn’t hug you enough, does he?”

“You’re very good- with all of the children,” Kuill rasps, leaning his weight forward on his cane.

“Yeah, well, I had four little siblings.” You throw Kuill a pointed look, and you continue on with your ramble. “They were such little monsters.” You grin. “And then there’s all the children from my village. Oh, and I often helped the other mothers with the children in the camp and-”

You freeze.

“…I- I mean-”

“Labor camp?”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. “H-how did you-”

“Omera described the tattoos on your arm to me. I understood their meaning, immediately.”

“Oh, no,” you breathe, panic bubbling, swelling up in your chest. “I- I can explain-”

“I did not tell Omera- their meaning, and I suggested, for your privacy-” Kuill waves his hand aside- “she should not discuss them with anyone else.”

No. No.

Blast it.

Blast it!

Kuill reaches out, resting a hand on your arm. “Do not concern yourself. It is your story… to tell when and if you wish. I myself- have spent time in such places. You were a victim of the Empire… as we all were.”

Raw emotion… grief… guilt- bubbles up your throat, threatening to cut off air. Choking. Suffocating.

“No, Kuill,” you mumble, barely audible. You place the baby down on the ground and use your free hand to tug up your sleeve.

Kuill brushes his fingers, gentle and light, across the marks, lifting his eyes to meet your face. “A life sentence.”

You rip the sleeve back down, resting both hands on your hips. With a sharp intake of air, you pull on a mask- the tough, outer rim girl persona: the same one that’s simultaneously kept you both safe and in trouble for far, far too many years.

“And I did what the Imperials sent me in for.” Your voice is hard, tired. Hells, you are so blasted tired.

You shake your head. “I didn’t deserve to have my sentence commuted by the New Republic, once they took the camp over-” you rub your eyes a little too hard, filling your vision with blurring, swirling lines- “b-but I guess they figured it’d be easier to release everyone than to try sorting between the political prisoners, innocent families, and… actual criminals.”

Plus, there was the issue of the children to consider…

“I’m-” your words catch in your throat, sticking against your tongue, afraid to emerge fully from your lips. You force your eyes closed. “I’m… not as a good a person as you think, Kuill.”

Kuill grunts, tapping his cane against the fence. “I’d think your recent sacrifices-” he motions the cane towards the child, toddling beside your feet- “would contradict that statement.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, avoiding looking Kuill in the eyes, “or maybe I’m still the same.”

“I think not.” Kuill rests against his cane. “For when you’ve lived as many years as I have-”

“-you learn to recognize patterns in behavior.” You smile wryly.

“It seems the galaxy has smiled upon you… given you a second chance.”

“Well,” you sigh, pressing your forehead against the top of the fencepost. “I’ve been doing a fine job of botching it up already, I’m afraid.”

Stars…

“I’d say you have one path open to you at this moment,” Kuill grunts. “But what will you do with it?”

“I appreciate it, Kuill, but… I can’t stay here.” You give him your classic, lop-sided smile. “Gotta keep exploring this big galaxy, ya know?”

Kriff the galaxy.

Kuill chuckles under his breath. “That wasn’t the path I was referring to.” He reaches out, patting the top of hand. “I wish you luck… my child.”

You blink, watching as Kuill moves away. You wait until he’s just far enough in the distance before releasing a strained breath of air.

Maker…

A light coo, a tug on your pants, shifts your attention away from yourself, away from your tumultuous thoughts. With a small smile, you reach down and pull the baby up against your neck, letting him nuzzle there as you glance back up at the stars.

Always running.

You’re always running.

But one day- one day, you will choose your own damn path.

-------

“Wipe your eyes, Birdie-” you ruffle the top of his head- “or you’ll flood the planet and put Kuill out of business.”

Birdie launches straight into your legs, knocking an oof from you.

“But- but what if I n-never see you- you again?” He buries his face in the fabric of your pants.

Dropping down to your knees, you peal Birdie off of you, holding him back by his shoulders. “Of- of course I’ll see you again, hm?” Your heart throbs as you speak the lie into the air, wishing it would just carry away on the desert wind.

Karking hells.

Your heart explodes, pain seeping from every new little crack. You tug Birdie into you, wrapping him up in your embrace just as new set of arms snakes around your neck from behind.

“We-we’ll miss you!” Winta says between sniffs.

“Come now,” you chirp, straining your voice to be as easy and care-free as you can muster in your compromised state. “I’ll have a thousand new stories to share when I come back, hm?” Your empty promises are apparently working, the heaviness easing off of their shoulders before your very eyes.

An approaching presence shifts your attention away from the children.

“All of us, the parents, felt like you should have this.” You blink, eyeing the satchel in Omera’s outstretched hand. “We owe you so much more, but-” Omera’s face tenses- “it’s a thank you to remember us by, to help you get started on Keolith.” She slides an arm around Winta’s shoulders, pulling her against her skirt.

You can’t do anything but… stare at the bag, stunned by the absolute generosity of the gesture. “I-I can’t take anything for-”

“Please.”

You don’t want it.

It feels… wrong to take it.

But you won’t risk insulting them by outright refusing their kindness.

“Go into town-” you give Winta and Birdie a sly wink- “and buy the children something fun. To remember me by. To make them laugh.” You wiggle your hat back and forth, pulling it tighter against your scalp. “That’s my payment.”

A good decision, or so the little sunny grins on Birdie’s and Winta’s faces tell you. Omera hesitates- then smiles. An agreement. And so, you return the expression with equal warmth.

“Kekthar, Rukia.”

You gasp- eyes tearing over to discover… Kuill?

Sularian.

A Sularian farewell.

You haven’t heard your native language spoken by another in, well… years.

“Kekthar, Sudbia,” you return, a small smile tickling at the corner of your mouth. As you share the smile with him, a silent understanding, a knowing, passes between your eyes:

You are always welcome in my home.

You will never deserve such kindness.

“Thank you, Kuill,” you whisper, bowing your head with respect.

As you continue sharing goodbyes, your heart grows heavy with each one spoken aloud. Part of you wants to just barrel into the Razor Crest, dive into the bed, and hide under a blanket just like the baby.

Stars, goodbyes reek.

“Be careful, Din.” A faint conversation to your left shifts your focus away from your misery. “Come back as soon as you can.” You turn, eyes widening as you watch Omera wrap her arms around Din, enveloping him in a warm, heartfelt embrace. He returns the gesture, going as far as to… rub her back… affectionately.

A pang.

A punch in the chest.

Shavit.

Just… shavit!

Spinning around on your heel, you stomp towards the Razor Crest, grumbling under your breath like some bitter old man.

Blasted seven Corellian hells- just-

Stoopa. Stoopa!

Kriff everything a-and-

You stop.

Kriff, wait, what is this? Corellian hells, what-

Oh.

You blink, gritting your teeth.

You’re… jealous?

…

You’re jealous.

You groan, yanking your hat low across your eyes. You have got to stop bantering so much with the Mandalorian… flirting. You’re- you’re getting too attached. And there’s only one way this could possibly end:

Like a nuna at a Hutt roast…

Uh, not so good, in other words.

You turn and frown, watching the pair speak in the distance.

Omera is… incredible. That Beskar idiot should marry her. Settle down. Have a family. He… deserves to have that. To be happy.

He’s a good man.

“We really need to get going,” Cara grumbles, walking up beside you to stack a crate next to the ramp. “I’ve gone way, way over schedule, and Karga is breathing down my neck, even though he knows I lost my ship.” Cara pauses to sigh, leaning forward against the stack. “He says the town has gone to hell without me.”

Blinking away any lingering physical signs of your jealousy, you slip on an indifferent, bored expression.

“Why so, Cara?” Your voice hardly veils the tension brewing in your head, but Cara, thankfully, does not seem to notice.

“I’ve been acting as a sort of-” she waves her hand in the air- “part-time Marshal, in a sense, on Navarro. Cleaning out a lot of the criminal rings scumming about,” Cara sighs, rubbing her face. “Still have a long way to go, but-” she lifts her eyes, giving you a sly smile- “I think I’m going to talk to Karga about dropping the Guild work completely, instead working full-time cleaning the streets. Maybe get a school up and running. And a doctor’s office; we need that too.”

“Cara,” you chuckle, stooping down to sit on a crate. “You surprise me. A dreamer lurks under all that brawn.”

“Maybe,” Cara chuckles. “But even so, my reason for visiting Arvala is dead, and I’m needed on Navarro.”

You blink. “Dead?”

Cara shoots out a hand, pointing at a lone Pablo approaching with his satchel. “Dead, according the Guild registry, that is.”

A bright grin bursts across Pablo’s face. He throws his hands out at the side, spinning around until he is facing the approaching Mandalorian. “Hey, shame you and Cara lost such a priceless bounty, right, Mando?”

The Mandalorian saunters up to Pablo, pausing to stare him directly in the eye.

“I was paid for killing you.”

The Mandalorian knocks into Pablo’s shoulder as he moves past.

One glance at the panicked expression on Pablo’s face, and you burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. He twists, shooting you a murderous look, which you happily return with only sweetness and a smile.

At least, on the bright side, you now have someone new to torment besides Din.

After all, it’s the little things that matter.

-------

“Dad!” You climb up on top of the huge fallen log, waving wildly to your dad in the distance. “Look! Watch!”

He pauses at your words, giving you a cheeky, lop-sided grin. “Okay, Starlight-” he leans forward against his rifle- “I’m watching.”

“You’re watching?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, don’t look away!”

“I won’t.”

“Still watching?”

“Starlight-”

With a grunt, you spin backwards off the log, landing a perfect backflip…

…straight into a hidden snowdrift.

“DAD!” you shriek, buried up to your hips in snow. You continue to wriggle, desperate to free yourself… to only sink down further with every shift. “Dad!” you yelp. You hear a rustling noise, and you jerk your head up.

Your dad- ever the helpful, supportive parent- is leaning over the top of the log…

laughing at you.

“Starlight,” he chuckles, “very impressive. Ten out of ten for style.” He crosses his arms across the log, angling his head to the side as he stares down at you. “But you made that fatal flaw we’ve talked about before.”

“Dad!” you growl, in no mood to be lectured nor teased. “Get me out of here! I don’t care!”

“What’s that fatal flaw?”

“I don’t care!”

“Starlight?”

You shoot him a pathetic frown. “I didn’t observe my surroundings first.” You twist your head away, pouting your lips. “I acted before thinking.”

Gloved hands wrap around your arms, lifting you up out of the snow drift.

“Good girl-” your father pulls you up against his side, rubbing your back. “Remember-”

“-think first, show off second.” You release a puff of air, watching as it crystalizes in front of you.

Your dad laughs and slips you that characteristic sly wink.

“My little snow warrior-” he grabs your hand, leading you back towards the mountain path- “such a little show-off………”

-------

“I’m not a show-off!”

Pablo flashes you a grin. “Come now, princess-”

“Okay, fine.” You crinkle your nose, lifting your hand up, two fingers spaced closely together. “Just a little bit. But still, it’s true.”

“Oh sure.”

“Yes! I could out-drink both of you, and ten Corellians on top of that.” You shove against Pablo’s shoulder as you move past, sitting down beside him.

“Speaking as a Corellian man, that’s big talk, sweetheart,” Pablo slides his glass of whiskey back and forth on the table between his hands. “But are you willing to try and prove it?”

“Pour me some of that-” you tap your fingers on the table, smirking at Cara- “before you and Pablo wipe out our supply.”

Cara pours and slides you a glass, a questioning expression on her face. You take a deep breath, lean back, and down the whiskey in one shot.

“Oh-” cough- cough- “wow, that’s-” cough- “that’s defi-” cough- “de-definitely Corellian.”

Cara smacks her hand down on the table, clutching her stomach as she doubles over with laughter. “Oh, dank farrick, your face!”

Pablo snorts. “Still think you can out-drink ten Corellians?” Resting his elbows against the table, he slides the bottle towards you.

Feeling your face flush with warmth from the shot of whiskey, you can only grin and tilt your head. “I’m certain of it.”

Pablo leans back, chuckling as he crosses his arms behind his head. “Fine. The minute we land on Tatooine-” he points at you, raising an eyebrow- “I’m dragging you into the first cantina we find.”

Your smile plummets.

“Tatooine?” You fling around in your chair, gawking over at the Mandalorian on the other side of the hull. “Tatooine?”

He stops cleaning his blaster, lifting his helmet to meet your eyes.

“He didn’t tell you?”

You spin back around, now gawking at Cara. “Obviously no. I thought we were heading to Navarro!”

“No.” Cara shrugs, leaning back against her chair. She lifts a brow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Tatooine is closer than Navarro. We’ll jump transports from there, letting you and Din continue on to Nar Shaddaa.”

“Hell,” you breathe, flopping back against your chair.

Tatooine?

“I’ll be loath to part from you all.” Pablo lifts his glass in the air. “I’ve grown so attached to everyone…. Well-” he raises a brow at you- “minus one.”

“You know, Pablo-” you jump forward, slapping both hands down on the table- “you’re being awfully rude for a man who’d be cargo right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh, don’t start on-”

“I will!”

“You know good and well-”

“You’re so rude!”

“I am not!”

“Carbonite man.”

“Don’t call me-”

“HEY!” You both rip your heads towards Cara.

Silence.

She slowly leans forward. “Are you two done?”

“Absolutely,” you sniff. Leaning into the palm of your hand, you release a long, heavy sigh, choosing to just ignore Pablo.

“Stars,” you whisper, staring up at the ceiling, beginning to reminisce. “I haven’t been to Tatooine in, well… years. Pretty sure I still owe some people money,” you grumble. “Dank farrick, I got into so much trouble there.”

“As an exceptional speederbike racer.”

Your eyes rip up, trailing the Mandalorian as he sits beside Cara. “That is, if I remember correctly.” His tone light, almost… airy compared to his typical grumpy snaps.

Oh. He’s teasing you.

You raise an eyebrow.

You know you should stop. Stop teasing him back.

But…

“I’m better than you, Din Djarin-” you lean across the table, smiling slyly as you stare him down- “that’s for certain. I’m the damn best, too.”

He shifts back, folding his hands against his stomach, just…. gazing at you.

“Damn best, huh?” Cara takes a shot of her drink. “Then you should have joined the Nar Shaddaa professional circuits. High risk, high reward.” She slides the bottle of whiskey towards you. “I imagine the violence, death, and insanity would have been right up your alley.”

“Well…” With a small sigh, you drop your eyes, beginning to play with the edge of your shirt. “Actually I- I would have.” You lower you chin. “But… uh, had someone I needed to stay alive for,” you discreetly add under your breath.

Cara grins and lifts her glass at you. Din, on the other hand, stretches his neck, dark visor pinned to your face. You snap away, staring over at the slightly tipsy Pablo instead.

“Boyfriend?” Pablo mumbles, taking the whiskey bottle for himself.

You only smile.

“Well, either way-” he sloshes his glass high- “to Tatooine!”

“Hell,” you grumble.

You lift your own glass.

To Tatooine.

…

Dank farrick.

-------

The darkness moves in. Closer. Suffocating. Gnawing away at the light.

…

“I know why you chose this.

…

You love power.

…

Crave it.”

…

You bury your face in your hands. “Shut up! You know nothing!”

…

“You can’t hide forever.

…

I know what you’ve done.

…

And you’ve seen what I’m capable of………”

…

Something presses into your neck.

…

Shit.

Your eyes blast open.

Can’t-

Can’t breathe!

Wriggling and squirming, you claw at your neck, kicking the covers off Din’s bed as you twist and turn and push and fight.

“Urf! C-Cara,” you hiss, slapping at her arm slumped across your neck. “Move!”

Cara snores louder, oblivious to the fact that she’s, you know, smothering you. She mumbles something in her sleep, pulling her arm back to flop over to her side of the mattress. Launching up from the bed, you gasp, sucking in deep gulps of air. A few more seconds, a few more gulps, and you glare over at Cara.

You can put up with snoring.

But you draw the kriffing line at actively trying to suffocate you in your sleep.

“Stars…” you hiss, pressing a palm to your forehead before pulling it back, blinking at the sweat dripping from your hand.

You’re… drenched. Trembling, shivering- your soaked nightshirt and pants stinging like ice in the cool air. Sliding down to the foot of the bed, you wrap your arms across your chest, squeezing tightly in a vain attempt to slow the trembling tearing at your body.

You groan, your head sloshing with exhaustion and fatigue and tension, but then… the threat from your nightmare slips past it all, the memory growling in your head-

You can’t hide forever…

Your throat catches.

Oh hell.

You slap both hands over your eyes.

You’re dead…

-------

Some people turn to religion.

Some people talk to a therapist.

But your newfound cure for anxiety?

Apparently, the smell of Andorian Mountain Roses.

Specifically, the faint scent of Andorian Mountain Roses lingering on the Mandalorian’s flannels.

After Cara’s murder attempt, you waited several minutes on the edge of the bed for the trembles, the shakes, to dissipate… but no such luck. Desperate, wet, and cold, you had peeled off your soaked nightshirt, swapping it out for a flannel shirt stolen from a heap on the floor.

You bury your nose into the sleeve of the thick shirt, inhaling deeply as you pad gently across the floor of the Razor Crest’s hull.

It smells like Din.

…

You’re safe with him.

…

He promised.

…

“Ka’r’ika?”

You freeze, dropping your arm at the faint voice, low, barely a rasp.

You tiptoe closer to the base of the ladder leading up to the cockpit. “Din?” you whisper, staring up into the dark void above.

“Come up.”

Biting your lip, you tentatively rest your foot on the bottom rung. One hesitant breath, and you scamper straight up.

“Din?” you question again, poking your head up into the space above. You blink, your eyes shifting towards the cockpit windows, smiling as you admire that familiar sparkling, dancing hyperspace light bouncing off everything within the cockpit.

Your eyes follow the streaking lines… forward… straight to the Mandalorian. He’s turned around in his chair, studying your every move.

“Hi.” You smile, a bit… shyly.

Hm. That’s new.

Resting back against in the pilot’s seat, he folds his hands- gloveless hands- across his stomach.

Fiddling with the edge of your shirt, you gently pad into the cockpit. A sharp glance to the left- you smile. The pram is sealed again, cocooning the child as he sleeps.

You glance back to Din, and as you step closer, you notice his right pauldron is missing. “Hey-” you slip into the right co-pilot’s chair- “I hope I didn’t wake yo-”

“I was already awake.”

“Oh.” You blink, chewing on your lower lip. He seems so… close. Stars, you didn’t remember the cockpit being quite this… uh, tight.

“Um, I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper, not wishing to risk waking the baby. After all, from the looks of Din and his missing pauldron, it must have taken quite some time to get the baby to sleep.

You slide forward, resting on the edge of the co-pilot’s seat. “Between Pablo’s and Cara’s snoring-” you grimace- “it’s like trying to sleep in a kriffing zoo down there. They’re both drunk off their socks.”

Din makes a noise. “Really?”

“Yeah, Cara tried to smother-”

“No-” the Mandalorian dips his helmet at you- “…is that really why you can’t sleep?”

“Am I really that easy to read?” you huff, raising a brow.

Silence.

“…You’re afraid.”

You blink, falling quiet. Of course you’re afraid...

You’re terrified.

You hear him shift in his chair, but you do not look up.

“…Why did you leave Tatooine?”

How can his voice sound so gentle, so soft, even when modulated? Stars, you can only imagine it without the distortion… You glance down at the floor, spinning the chair back and forth, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Grandpa yanked us off overnight,” you blurt, a bit surprised by how the words hurt as they emerge. You continue spinning in the chair, this time in full circles. “…Because I was a damn idiot.” You stop rotating, and face Din’s seat. Your eyes trail down his helmet… down his arms… to those hands.

Large.

Tan.

Scarred.

And warm- so warm…

Karking hells, you’ve spent too much damn time thinking about how warm they felt that day… How he brushed your chin- confident, no hesitation. And so blasted gentle, like you were made of glass.

…Oh, seven Corellian hells…

You’re done for.

Thank the Maker your warming face is hidden in the dim light.

A shift of movement draws your focus back over to the pilot’s chair. Din leans forward, resting his elbows against his thighs- a silent invitation.

Groaning, you pull a foot up into your chair, tucking it under your chin. “After… after it was just me and Grandpa-” you wave your hand in the air- “I, uh, had a talent for getting into… situations.”

You turn your eyes away, fearing you might not have the strength to continue if you shared even just one glance with him. “Grandpa- he kept having to pull us off planets. I’d always get mixed up with the wrong crowds, gangs, whatever. We could never stay one place too long.” With every word you speak, your throat tightens- constricts.

Your… your Grandpa deserved so much better than you.

“I just… kept acting out more and more the older I got.”

Stupid.

So stupid.

Flopping your head back against the chair, you stare up at the ceiling. “By Tatooine, I was pretty much… unmanageable. He tried- he really did- but, in a way, I think- I think he had given up on me. He stopped asking so many questions when I’d be gone for hours, sometimes days, at a time. He was… he was so used to me running off.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep the burning in your eyes at bay, you continue. “Remember the boy I told you about? The speederbike racer?” You venture a glance at Din, finding him in the same position, leaned forward against his thighs. He gives you a light nod.

“He…he was part of an illegal racing club. He got me in- I was good, great at it.”

“Damn best?”

You smile at Din.

“Hell yeah,” you chuckle, pulling your second leg up into the chair, tucking it under your chin. “I pulled a lot of ill-advised stunts. Got me noticed by the right, or rather wrong, people. A Hutt sponsored me as his challenger in the biggest speeder race Tatooine had seen in years.”

You groan, burying your face in the palms of your hands. “And, under no uncertain terms, I was to win… or else. And, of course, my stupid self thought-” you throw both hands in the air- “‘Great! I’ll win, no big deal! Win lots of money and fame! What an honor to be a Hutt favorite!’”

You shoot Din a knowing look.

He sits back, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

“What… happened?” His words are hesitant.

“I karking won, of course.” You cross your arms. “What else did you expect?”

He just stares at you- tilts his head to the side.

You make a noise. “Grandpa flipped when he found out. He knew how’d things would inevitably end- entering those kinds of races, working with the Hutts.” You let out a dry laugh. “He yanked me off that planet, kicking and screaming. I thought he was ruining my future. Turns out, I did a fine job of that on my own.”

Stars… you can’t think about Grandpa right now- don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-

“A-anyway-” you force a laugh- “um, enough about me.” You lift your chin, tossing Din a forced grin. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Such as?”

A slight smirk grows on your face. Actually… there is something you’ve been dying to ask him, but… it just never felt appropriate- you felt too intimidated to question. But here, draped in the dancing blue hue of hyperspace, he somehow feels less like a Mandalorian and more like… just a man.

“Can you ever take that helmet off?” you blurt. You instantly cringe, regretting the words the second they leave your lips. “You don’t ha-”

“I can.”

You blink.

He spins around away from you, facing the console. “For my children.” He flicks a switch. “And a… a wife.”

“…Oh.”

You tilt your head to the side. Huh.

“Stars, wait-” you shoot up in your chair- “does that mean you’ve never kissed anyone before?”

He freezes.

One second-

Two seconds-

Three seconds-

“Sorry!” You press a hand against your cheek. “Sometimes I- I blurt before thinking.” You flop backwards, sighing heavily. “Anyway, you’re not missing a thing. Kissing is disgusting. Think about it- swapping spit? Touching tongues? With another person?” You crinkle your nose. “It’s nasty.”

You lean forward, eyes widening. “Oh, my Maker! One time, I was dared to kiss a Gungan, and I think I’ve had lingering trauma ever…. uh, since…” You press your face into your knees, your face warming. “Ah, um, you know what? Never mind.”

Kark- maybe try thinking before speaking just once- JUST once?!

The Mandalorian resumes fiddling with the switches on the console, as if you hadn’t been speaking at all- thank the force.

After all, the Gungan story was rather hard to explain.

A few minutes pass, no word spoken aloud, and the cockpit falls into a stillness.

A calm stillness.

Just… tranquility.

You suck in a deep breath of air, sinking deeper into your chair. Even with your awkward blunders, you feel more comfortable, safer in this moment than you have in far, far too long.

Eyelids drooping, time begins to swirl around you, mixing, blending with the hyperspace light. Lost in the realm between consciousness and sleep, you are barely aware of a lingering presence that looms beside you.

You drift away from sleep, sailing closer to consciousness. Parting your eyes just enough to see, a small smile slips onto your lips. He- Din- hovers over you. He reaches up, removing the cape from his back, and drapes it over you as your eyes slip back closed. You feel the weight of it pause halfway.

A slight tug- a pull- on the edge of your shirt.

Your eyes part, your groggy smile returning.

“Keep it,” Din rasps, barely a whisper. He continues rubbing the fabric of his shirt you wear between two fingers. “Looks… nice.”

The weight of the cape moves up, fully cocooning you, safe, warm, much like his son that sleeps beside you.

“Sweet dreams… Meshla.”

“Mmf,” you mumble. “What’s… th-at… mean?”

Skin traces the outline of your ear.

“Nuisance.”

“Kriff… you.”

“Go to sleep.”

You smile, letting your mind sail back towards the shoreline of sleep.

-------

“HEY! Get away from there! You know he doesn’t like droids!”

You lumber down the ramp after the Mandalorian, squinting against the unforgiving rays of the twin Tatooine suns. You lift a hand to your eyes, blinking as a woman- head full of tight curls- marches towards the Razor Crest.

“May as well let them have at it,” the Mandalorian grumbles. “The Crest needs a good once over.”

“Oh! So, he likes droids now. Well, you heard him.” The woman waves at a crew of droids. “Give it a once over!... I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos Eisley.”

The Mandalorian pauses in front of the stranger with Cara, Pablo, and yourself gathering around him.

“Well, looky here! You’ve made new friends!” The woman narrows her eyes, leaning in towards Pablo. “Hopefully you three won’t try and kill me like the last one this Mandalorian dragged in here.”

She leans into you this time. “If you ask me, I think your Mandalorian here needs a good group of friends,” she whispers under her breath. “The man doesn’t live well.”

You slap a hand over your nose, pressing to muffle your burst of laughter.

But then Pablo laughs, and you just can’t hold it in.

The Mandalorian sighs, not sparing the two of you a glance.

“I’m Peli.” The woman nods again, oblivious to the effect her words have had on you and Pablo. “I am a very- OH ho!” Peli launches forward, swooping the baby out from the Mandalorian’s satchel. “I’ve missed this little one! Let me guess, I’m needed for babysitting services? Don’t ask! Yes!” She rocks the baby against her hip, and the baby, delighted by the attention, grins and giggles- clearly very pleased to see Peli again.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The Mandalorian reaches out, stroking the child’s ear. “The girl and I need to resupply. I’d rather leave the child here.”

“I have a name, Mando,” you grumble under your breath, shooting him a glare.

He keeps his head straight, focused on Peli, ignoring your protest.

“Of course!” Peli shouts, walking several feet away as she rambles away to the child.

“Mando-” Cara touches his arm- “I’ll catch up with you later today before we leave Tatooine. I’m taking Pablo with me.” She eyes Pablo, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “He claims he has a contact, can get Navarro hooked up with a good supplier.”

“Of course!” Pablo flings his hands out, grinning ear to ear. “Old Bolbo is a close friend! He completely forgave me for that incident with his sister in Anchorhead!”

Cara stares at him.

“Oh, hell.” She adjusts the rifle on her back. “Let’s get this over with.”

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as Cara and Pablo walk off towards the exit.

“Peli-” the Mandalorian walks after her- still dashing back and forth, rambling to the child. “I want you to keep the doors secured until I get back.” He hooks a finger in his belt, his helmet following Peli back and forth, back and forth. “Don’t open them for anyone you don’t know.”

“Oh!” Her eyes brighten. “I actually have a defender droid now! 4PO!” she shrieks, waving her hand in the air. “Come on! Come on! Wa-iting.”

Your eyes widen, watching with a mixture between disbelief and dismay, as a silver droid stumbles forward- red light radiating from its joints. “Um,” you bite your lip, fighting against the laughter swelling up your throat. “Isn’t… isn’t that a protocol droid?”

“It’s been refitted!” Peli slaps the droid with her free hand. “4PO! DEFENDER MODE!”

The droid wobbles back and forth- bolts and screws raining down, bouncing across the floor. You blink. “Is- is th-”

The droid’s head snaps to you.

“<death is but a relief from our meager existence>”

…

The Mandalorian looks at Peli.

“Keep the doors secured.”

His hand wraps around your upper arm, pushing you towards the exit.

“Blast it, 4PO!” Peli’s shouts from behind, pulling a giggle from your lips. “I can’t believe you’ve embarrassed me like this! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“<i am trapped in this shell. i cannot die.>”

“4PO!”

-------

Ah, Mos Eisley Spaceport:

Dangerous? Yes.

Scummy? Yes.

Entertaining? Also yes.

You grin beneath the scarf wrapped around your face, gawking at all the activity and interesting faces that swarm past you on the street. You are so enraptured with the sights and sounds that the Mandalorian is occasionally forced to grab your arm and pull you against his side.

“Stay close,” he’d grumble… before you’d inevitably leave his side again five minutes later.

“Mando!” you call from the top of a store’s steps, waving across the street for him.

He sweeps forward, stopping beneath you just at the bottom step.

“Stop disappearing.”

His voice is hard, all bounty hunter.

“What?” You grin, skipping down the steps to stand beside him. “The bounty hunter can’t hunt me down? Keeps losing me?”

He releases a heavy, long-suffering sigh and angles his head down at you.

“Move.”

Giggling under the scarf, you allow the Mandalorian to lead you inside the store. You don’t wait for instructions nor directions- you know what you want, and you’re going to get what you want. The Mandalorian finds you a minute later. He doesn’t say anything, just stands on the opposite side of the rack as you claw through the hangers.

You stop long enough to give him a look. “The baby needs clothes, Mando.” You continue clawing through the limited selection. “That sack he wears is ridiculous. Now go, leave me alone. I don’t need you hovering.”

He throws his head to the side, a small sigh slipping out- but he obeys your command.

You sneak a glance from the corner of your eye, a lop-sided smile stretching across your face. He’s off to the side, trying to appear occupied, but you know what he’s doing:

He’s not letting you get further than ten feet away.

The hovering- the lingering, keeping an eye on you…

It’s… kind of cute.

…But irritating.

Still, considering the incident on Arvala, he has good reason to hover… You’d do well to remember that yourself.

After making a few selections, you spin around, expecting to find the Mandalorian where you left him. But he’s gone.

“Hm.” You twist your head around but spying him nowhere in the store.

Fine.

Guess he took your command seriously this time. You make your purchases and step outside the door. Just as you go to sit on the top step, the clank-clank of Beskar jolts you around.

“Mando!” You throw both hands on your hips in mock frustration. “You left me.”

He rests a hand against his holster, and chuckles. “Make up your mind, Ka’r’ika.”

You drop the frown, trading it in for a blooming grin. “Fine. What was so important that you left me behind?”

His helmet angles down, his hands fiddling with something hanging off from his belt.

“I was next door… I… saw this.” He reaches out, presenting you what’s in his hand. “Thought it… suited you. Better than the one I have. Mine’s… too long. This suits your size. Suits your height… better.”

You tentatively take the plain metal bar, no longer than the length of your hand. “Ah, thank you, Mando! I… love it.” You blink. “Um, what is it?”

He points to a switch on the side.

“Is tha- OH!”

A blade slices out from the end. “Seven Corellian hells!” you laugh. “This is- wait, what’s this do- OH KRIFF!”

You nearly throw it from your hands. One flick of a switch, and the bar the length of your hand grows to be three, maybe even four feet in length

“Din!” you hiss, tapping the staff down onto the ground. “You bought me a weapon to kill people with!” You flick the switch again, grinning as it collapses back to the size of your hand. “I’m going to cry!”

The Mandalorian grunts, angling his head to the side. “Weapon to defend.”

You flick the switch again, grinning as the blade slides away, hidden within. “Well.” Hooking the bar onto you belt, you look up at him with an impish smirk. “Now you’re trapped. You have no choice but to train me with a staff.”

“That’s the idea.”

You can’t help but grin like an idiot.

-------

“Where are you going?”

“Refresher,” you shout, continuing to march away from the Mandalorian and straight towards a cantina. You step inside, grimacing at the smack of stench that punches you in the face.

Uhg, what’s with cantinas and unwashed masses?

Shaking your head, you let your eyes sweep around the dim, dingy, and nearly empty cantina. Ah, there’s th-

“OH!” you squeak, pulling away from the hand grasping your shoulder. “Din!” you hiss, pushing against his arm.

“I said stay close.”

“You can’t use your bounty hunter voice on me and expect it to work.” You march away. “Unless you’re coming with me into the refresher, wait for me out here.”

-------

You are only gone a few minutes, but you are frustrated to find yet again- yes, again- the Mandalorian has disappeared within that time frame. With a heavy sigh, you sit down at the bar, ignoring the other patrons beginning to trickle in as Tatooine’s work hours for the day come to a close.

“Hello there, miss.” A young man sits next to you at the bar. He throws you a smile.

Ah, he’s cute.

“Never seen you here before. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

A sly smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth.

An idea.

“I never refuse a free drink.”

You flick your eyes back towards the cantina entrance. “Come on, Din. I want to have fun with you.”

“Say,” the man leans towards you as the bartender slides you your drink. “How about we go somewhere, hm?”

You crinkle your nose, lifting the drink to your lips. “No thanks.”

“But I bought you a drink-”

“I don’t remember leaving with you being part of that deal.”

The man’s facade drops, his expression twisting into irritation. “Girl, you hav-”

“Unless you want to talk to my husband into letting me go with you, I just can’t.”

You bite away the grin that begs to explode across your face as you watch the man’s eyes widen twice their typical size.

“Husband?”

You twist your head, and stare across the bar-

-directly at a looming, hulking, intimidating, Beskar-donning Mandalorian.

The man leaps from you, his eyes not leaving the Mandalorian- not for one second. “Uh, um, look I- I didn’t mean anything.” He throws his hands up.

“Honey-” you take another sip of your drink- “could you watch the kids so I can go with this gentleman?”

The Mandalorian’s visor is glued to the man- searing him to the ground.

A bird stalking prey.

“You know the kids don’t listen to me, Cyare.” His voice is quiet, dangerously contained. “So, you chose.”

He stalks around the bar, slowly, deliberately…

“Do I string him up for the rancors… or do I shoot him now?”

“I like rancors,” you chirp, twisting to look up at Din. “They’re kinda cute.” You turn back-

“Hey, he’s gone!” You groan as the Mandalorian wraps his hand firmly around your upper arm, pulling you off the barstool.

“Let’s go.”

“Just when I was making friends.”

“I’m getting you back before you get yourself shot.”

“But I have my stick now!”

“Staff, Ka’r’ika.”

“Yes, staff- a big stick.”

A beaming grin bursts across your face at the pained, long-suffering sigh that erupts from his helmet’s vocoder. He continues to lead you in silence through the streets of Mos Eisley, only coming to a stop after pulling you aside in an alley.

“I can handle myself, Din,” you teasingly smile, pressing your back up against the wall.

He hovers over you, tilting his head forward. “You’ve yet to convince me of that.”

You bite your lower lip, mischief tickling in the back of your mind.

“I’m fast, remember?”

He leans forward, closer into your face. “So you always say.”

You let your smile slowly drop… drop… drop…

His hands shoot out-

You lean back-

SMACK.

You laugh as Din stares down- stunned- at the staff held sideways in your hands, blocking him from grabbing you. You push the bar against him, ducking sideways to escape his grasp.

“Nice try!” you growl through your gritted teeth as you bolt down the alley. “Race you to the hanger!”

Burning every drop of adrenaline flooding your bloodstream, you blast through the twisting turns of the alleyway labyrinth, hissing each time you think you see a gleam of Beskar from the corner of your eyes.

Blast!

You slide sideways across the dirt, narrowly avoiding bursting through a vendor’s cart, cackling as the vendor hurdles curses at your fleeing back. Taking a sharp turn, you speed into another alley, sliding across the loose dirt as you stumble to a halt- unable to continue another foot without passing out.

“K-kriff!” you pant, twisting your head back and forth, spying for even just a hint of shining Beskar in the empty alley.

“I’m out- out of… shape! I- I can’t- AHRG!”

You fall forward, hard, against the ground to escape what dropped from the roof behind you.

“DIN!” you shriek, baring your teeth at him.

“Keep up.”

He spins around.

Kark that!

You launch forward, grabbing onto his cloak, and- yank!

“Bitch, get back here!”

You stumble into his back and wrap both arms tightly around his neck- bursting into a fit of giggles as Din lifts you up and keeps moving forward. He reaches his hands back, pulling your legs up around his waist- essentially carrying you piggyback.

“Din!” you yelp between barks of laughter. “I-I’m slipping! OH!”

You plummet to the ground. You roll over on your back, rubbing the tears from your eyes. “S-stars! Oh.. oh kriff! I- I’m hu-hurting! From… la-laughing! Oh, ouch! O-Ouch!”

Your eyes finally clear of the blurring tears-

There he is- kneeling beside you- looking down- laughing at you.

“Din!” you giggle, slapping a hand up against his chest. “Jerk! You dropped me on purpose!”

His laughter gently fades away- and he stands, reaching a gloved hand out for you.

“Come, Ka’r’ika,” he rasps, his tone… deeper than usual. “Let’s get back to the hanger.”

You grin, looping your arm around his.

“Anywhere you say, Din.”

Truly, anywhere.

At this point, the man could lead you straight into a rancor’s din, and you’d jump in if he did too.

-------

Something’s wrong.

You know how he normally walks- confident and striding.

…Something’s wrong.

“Din?” You tilt your head to the side, raising a brow. “What did Peli tell you? What’s…?”

He stops- pausing just before the cockpit ladder- and angles his head at your voice.

“There’s a Mandalorian to the north. Mos Pelgo.” He turns around and starts slowly walking towards you.

“…Oh.”

You lower yourself into a chair, not exactly sure where this is going…

“That’s… good, I guess?” Crossing your arms together, you chuckle. “Sometimes it’s hard to imagine there’s more than one of you.”

He rests both hands against his hips, turning to face the hull wall.

“I’m going out there.” He throws you a quick look. “After Cara returns to keep you safe. I’m… taking the child with me.”

“Ah, sure?”

He’s leaving something out…

“But… why, exactly?”

“I’m hoping a Mandalorian can… lead me to someone. The child-” Din’s voice quiets. “He’s… special.”

Oh.

“Is this about his force abilities?”

“Force?” Din rips his head around. “You mean… Jedi?”

With a small smile on your face, you pull both legs up into the chair with you. “Jedi use the force. Think of it as-” you wave your hand in the air- “like an energy thing. The force binds all things, connects all things… real mystical stuff.”

Din does not move. Just… stares at you.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” His voice is quick.

You grunt, shifting your eyes to the floor. “I know they’re all dead now, for the most part. Hunted like animals by the Empire." You force a dry laugh. “They- they didn’t stop at the adults. No-” you shake your head- “slaughtered the children too. Kriffing creeps. Hunted down each last survivor- any force user- one by one.”

Silence.

“How… do you know this?”

“My Mom.” You release a heavy sigh. “She wanted more- more excitement than what life on Sularia offered. She was intelligent, and her intelligence earned her a job as a civilian contractor with the Republic during the Clone Wars.” You smirk at Din. “Grandpa was not happy with her.”

You tilt the chair backwards, staring up at the ceiling as you speak. “She worked among the Jedi. Friends with many of them.”

You hear Mom’s weeping in your ear… her eyes radiating such… pain and loss. You dig your fingers into your palm, willing the memories away, your eyes sliding closed-

“He must be trained.”

Your eyes blast open, flying straight to Din. “What?”

“After Arvala- what he did to the woman on Arvala-” Din lowers his head, avoiding your glare- “I knew he was strong, but…

“Din,” you grit your teeth- “you must forget he’s special.” You throw your hand out. “Forget Arvala ever happened.”

“A Jedi can train him.” Din is speaking more to himself than to you. “After I leave Nar Shaddaa, I will return to my quest. Find the kid a Jedi.”

Silence.

“What?” You launch up out of your chair.

“If what you say is true-” Din’s voice is level and even, barely audible even in the silence- “I can’t protect him. He… needs to be trained.”

“Trained?” You voice strains in your throat, tightening with every word. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s too dangerous to let him follow that path!”

The Mandalorian faces you. “Danger is all he’s ever known.” He turns and begins to stalk away. “I was wrong to not follow my quest. I… must follow my creed.” He stops. “This is the way.”

“The way?” You race over to his side, staring up into that emotionless visor. “To give up a child that loves you? That you’ve called son?” You grab his arm. “Refuse him a happy, normal childhood?”

“His life with me is not normal. It’s no life for a child.”

“And- and life as a Jedi isn’t either!” your voice raises. “They aren’t allowed to express love- hold attachments!” You clench your fists, willing your breathing- and voice- to level back out. “That is no way for a child to be raised.”

“That is their way.” The Mandalorian rests a hand on a ladder rung. “And… this is mine.”

Blood explodes in your ear.

“How can you be so cold!”

The Mandalorian’s head shoots to you.

“If you cared about him, you’d- you’d keep him- fight for him- love him every day- thank the Maker he’s there every morning when you wake up!” Furious tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you wipe them away with your sleeve- refusing to let them fall. “Grateful you have more than just your memories and dreams of him to hold!”

“I do care about him.” The Mandalorian’s voice cuts dangerously calm. “But unlike you, I can’t be selfish.” He steps forward, forcing you to take a step back. “Doing whatever I want; whatever I please.” He stops, his voice quieting. “I… I cannot give him what he needs. He… needs more than me.”

Selfish? Selfish?

The decaying stench of Nar Shaddaa wafts down the streets as you walk lower, deeper into the underbelly of the rotting city center. The tears have now dried on your cheeks, but you know the streaked mascara staining your cheeks will give their existence away. You will have to duck into the sink first before heading into your dilapidated apartment- you can’t let her see any evidence of your suffering.

It’s all for her, and that’s all that matters.

“You-” you swallow the lump cutting off your air, pressing your hands behind your back to hide their trembling- “You know nothing of my life! And frankly, you know nothing of me, Mandalorian.”

“I know enough.” His tone matches your still, quiet coldness. “You’d put your feelings and attachment over what’s best for him.”

“How can you say that while I stand here-” you jab at your side- “carrying scars I took for that child!”

He takes a step forward, his hands raised almost as if in regret, but you cut him off.

“You sound just like a Jedi!” you shout. “Maybe you would be the perfect teacher for him!”

His hands drop.

“I… will not dishonor him by denying him his way- his people.” He lowers his head to the floor, almost as if speaking to himself again. “I can’t let the way you are influence me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you hiss, the blasting blood deafening in your ears.

“You make rash, impulsive, emotional decisions.” The Mandalorian’s words slice your heart, cutting you down to the core.

“You never take the bigger picture into account, the greater implications of your actions. Some things are more important than you or I want.”

“What about what he wants? You’re his father!” you yell, giving up on restraint. “That is more important than anything!”

“He… he will forget.”

You blink.

“A child-” your voice drops, quiets- “never forgets love.” You shake your head, nausea brewing in your stomach. “How can you be so cold? So… callus?”

He scoffs at you.

“You’re being foolish.”

He turns to leave.

“Mandalorian-” your eyes are on fire, burning- “You’re the only fool I see. You’ve been given a gift; do you know what I’d give to have that again?”

He stares you down.

“But- but because you’re scared- you’re scared of failing him- you want to just dump him off on the first Jedi that crawls into your path!” You shake your head, using every ounce of control to keep from exploding.

You fail.

“You’re the one being selfish, Mando! A coward!”

“I’ve sacrificed everything for him.” His voice takes on that dangerous tone again- warning you with every word spoken. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I thought you were more than a heartless bounty hunter under all that armor-” you sneer, tapping a finger against his chest- “but I guess I was wrong!”

Silence.

“You were wrong to assume anything about me,” he rasps under his breath, leaning into you. “I don’t have to explain myself or any of my decisions to you. We’re done here.”

He jerks around, sweeping up into the cockpit of the ship

“And I’m- I’m sorry I ever assumed I could know you, trust you!” You shout from the base of the ladder, hands trembling against the rungs. “Y-you don’t deserve the light you have been given!”

You burst away from the ladder, racing straight into the sleeping quarters and slamming the doors closed. You slump down into the corner, clutching a pillow tightly against your chest.

The nightmares, the memories, the voices, echo- scream- in your ears…

“Mama!”

-------

You stare straight ahead.

Exhausted.

You’re… exhausted. Emotionally. Physically.

Just- exhausted.

Ever since the Mandalorian left with the child for Mos Pelgo, you’ve been stewing alone in the cockpit, trying to make sense of your tumultuous emotions.

You- you just don’t understand. How…?

You lean forward in the pilot’s seat, burying your face in your hands.

How could he-

“Mando?”

You gasp, tearing your head up. The blue hue of the holo-display showers the dark cockpit in twinkling light.

A man- a stranger- stands in the display.

“Answer the holo, Mando.” He places both hands on his hips. “It’s important.”

You blink.

Hesitantly, you reach forward, flicking on the switch.

“Hello?” you question.

The man stares at you, taking in your unexpected appearance.

“I need to speak with the Mandalorian.”

“He, uh, he’s not here, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.” You lean forward, raising an eyebrow. “Can I… give him a message?”

“I assume you’re the girl from Taek?”

You slowly nod.

Silence.

“I wasn’t going to talk with you about this-” he glances away, his voice lowering- “but it appears I have no choice… Do you know who I am?”

“Ah, no.” You lean back in the pilot’s seat. “Should I?”

“My name is Greef Karga-”

“Oh, yes!” you interrupt. “Cara’s spoken highly of you.”

“Then you know my line of business.” He takes a few steps to the side, as if considering his words. “I was just visited by three individuals that should be… of interest to the Mandalorian… and you.”

“Oh no,” you breathe. “Is this about Taek again? Stars! They- more trouble from Nar Shaddaa?”

Greef slowly crosses his arms. “Not exactly.”

You blink. “Then I don’t… understa-”

“They sought you.”

Your blood freezes.

You- you can’t breathe.

“I told them nothing, of course. I informed them the Guild had no files, no information whatsoever. That you had never been on our radar.” Greef leans forward, his voice falling low. “They left most displeased.”

“No- don’t tell me this.” You press your head down into your knees. “Don’t tell me this.”

“I suggest you tread carefully, my dear-”

You lift your head.

“-they were Mandalorian.”

-------

You slip around the corner of the stone building, sliding right past the dumpsters lining the Mos Eisley street. You tighten the scarf around your face as you tip-toe into an alley- jumping at any hint of movement like a Lothcat on spice.

“Stars,” you hiss, tightening your arms across your chest, collapsing in on yourself as you walk.

Your life-

-is a disaster.

But it’s your disaster, for you to face. You will not endanger the child, put anyone else in the line of fire.

With Mandalorians after you… Leaving- running away- it’s your only choice.

A sob erupts, and you slap a hand across the scarf covering your lips, pushing against the fabric.

You can’t give in. Not now. Not now.

You sink down into the dirt, pressed up against the wall tucked back behind a stack of boxes.

Trembling… You can’t stop trembling.

Something hard presses into your leg, and you glance down.

Your staff…

Din.

You take it off your belt, pressing it against your cheek. Groaning, you slide your eyes closed.

You’re- you’re going to miss him. All of them. You- you-

You part your lips, all the pent-up fear and heartbreak and pain and frustration bleeding out in in one long wail, the tears flooding, drowning your cheeks.

You’re all alone.

You’re all alone again.

You’re all fucking alone.

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

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: (in the comments)

a/n: I know what you’re thinking: OH NO! I forgot to get wille-zarr a Christmas gift!

No problem! You can leave me a comment instead lol!

But seriously, OH. MY. STARS. The comments on chapter 7- you have NO IDEA how that pushed me to write this. I’ll be honest, this chapter probably would have taken another 1-2 weeks to write if it wasn’t for the love and comments last chapter! I spent countless nights staying up till 3AM trying to get this done. Again, thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me- your comments fuel my writing! I love hearing from my regular readers!

Special thanks for @sana-katarn, whose endless knowledge of Old Republic terminology I inquired of endlessly while writing… really this entire story! She’s actually the best.

Also, this story will NOT being following season two. At times (such as in this chapter), some events from chapter two may pop up. But not often at all. We’re going for an ✨original plot✨ here. ;)

One last thing before I move into season 2 finale spoilers: next chapter, the action/angst kicks up- AGAIN. Like wow, I am so excited for everyone to read it! Things are kicking into gear! (And don’t worry, we will see the Arvala family again very soon!)

SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS BELOW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED: ------- Okay, so W O W. That finale. Let’s talk.

I am 100% serious, I had this chapter, the scene where Din and reader fight over the child training to be a Jedi, planned out WELL before the finale! So, imagine my shock that this chapter and that particular scene in the finale happened to fall so close together! I felt a bit bad leaving chapter 8 on a sad note so soon after the finale, but it couldn’t be avoided. So, I’ll just say: trust where I’m going with things! It’s going to be surprising- in a good way! :)

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #willezarr #in fields of white #chapter 8 #ifow

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

in cinders | 9 | explanations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

“Get your hands off of her!” you yelled before you could think.

You rushed forward, ducking under the heavy arm of a guardsman, and ripped the soldier off of Ochako. You took advantage of his surprise, getting yourself between them and pushing her behind you. You held out your arms to block his access to her.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The guardsman whirled on you. “This little wench stole from a noblewoman.”

He pointed, and you followed the line of his finger towards the pink, puffy dress clutched in Kamiko’s conniving fingers. Kamiko smirked at you, looking more pleased with herself than you had ever seen before.

“I found this hidden under her mattress so I reported her to the authorities. Now get out of the way, cinders, she needs to be punished.”

A feral noise escaped you. “I’ll fucking kill you for this, Kamiko.”

Kamiko scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A soft voice from behind you sniffled, “It’s not true! I promise I didn’t steal it!”

The guardsman let out a flat laugh. “How would a servant come by a dress like this? It’s obviously stolen.”

You moved to block him again as he reached for Ochako. Thinking quickly, you swept the crowd of servants in front of you, looking for any escape route. Your eyes fixed on Kaminari who stood frozen where he had been trying to control the crowd. His gaze was locked behind you, and his brow was furrowed. His mouth seemed to be shaping some word in question.

You tried to catch his eye but before you could, he whipped back in the other direction and was off like a shot, pushing through the crowd and out of the kitchen.

“Hand her over or I’ll have to hurt you,” the guardsman growled, drawing your attention back to him.

Your heart leapt into your throat. There had to be some way out of this. There had to be some way to protect Ochako, there had to--

You froze, a plan dawning on you. Ochako had never stolen a thing, but you had. And if there was one person Kamiko hated more than Ochako, it was--

“It was me.”

The guardsman halted, staring at you. Around him, the other kingsguard looked dumbfounded and the kitchen staff quieted. Kamiko and the housekeeper looked floored.

“I stole the dress,” you said quickly. “I stashed it under Ochako’s mattress.”

“Y/N, no--!” came from behind you but you paid her no mind.

“It’s not the first time I’ve stolen a noblewoman’s dress,” you said loudly. “I stole the Lady Utsushimi’s gown the night of the ball. Kamiko found that one too, didn’t you?”

Kamiko stood frozen, but a gleeful look was entering her gaze like she couldn’t believe her luck.

“Ask her,” you said to the guardsman. “Ask her what she found beneath my mattress.”

He turned to her in askance and slowly she nodded. “It’s true. I returned the dress to Lady Utsushimi myself.”

You grimaced. “So you see, this isn’t the first gown I’ve stolen and hidden beneath a mattress. Ochako didn’t even know I had done it.”

The guardsman gestured to another of the kingsguard. "You’re to go to Lady Utsushimi to confirm the return of her gown.”

Then he turned back to you. “You’ll be coming with us.”

You hesitated. “Is Ochako free to go?”

He frowned. “If you come with us quietly, no harm will befall the girl.”

You nodded, holding out your hands. Ochako’s fingers clutched at the back of your dress and she muffled a sob into your shoulder.

“Please don’t do this,” she said quietly. “Tell them it’s my dress.”

The guardsman took your outstretched hands, binding them in a thick layer of rope. He knotted it securely, the fibers digging into the skin of your wrists.

“I’ll figure a way out of this,” you said to her under your breath. “I always do.”

The guardsman gave your bindings a tug and you tripped forward. He wrapped a hand in the fabric of your shift, tugging you in front of him. From this angle, you could see the rest of the kitchen staff, staring at you in shock. Rikido fluttered nervously over the shoulders of the kingsguard, looking beside himself. You tossed him a reassuring smile.

The dress in question belonged to no one. If they couldn’t find the owner, perhaps you would be let go with minimal punishment. You only regretted that you wouldn’t get a chance to apologize to Ochako before then, or set things clear with Shouto.

“Ochako,” you said as the guardsman pulled you stumbling along after him. “If Shou - I mean, if he comes looking, tell him I’m sorry I didn’t wait for him.”

Ochako's brow knitted and she opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off the the door to the palace courtyard bursting open.

“WAIT!” A voice gasped out and Izuku Midoriya all but fell inside, followed closely by Kaminari, who was looking especially proud of himself. “Ochako didn’t steal anything, she--you’re not Ochako.”

The door to the courtyard thumped against the opposite wall and rebounded heavily into Kaminari's shoulder, sending him stumbling into Izuku's back.

The guardsman holding you hesitated, looking confused, and you felt your own confusion rise within you. What was Izuku doing here? Had he been who Kaminari had run off to? How did Izuku know Ochako and why would he come running?

Ochako herself answered that question for you.

“Izuku!” she shouted, flinging herself into his arms. Izuku held her to him tightly, pulling her close in a way that that was unmistakably affectionate. His emerald gaze darted worriedly all over her, as though checking her over for injury.

“You’ve got to stop them taking Y/N.” Ochako was pleading into the fabric of his vest. “They think she stole the dress!”

You glanced between the two of them, puzzled. Now was not the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Are you two....together?”

Izuku looked at you, a kind expression on his freckled face. “Yes, since...I, um, recognized her at the ball.”

All of a sudden, things snapped into place. That day in the kitchens, the way Izuku’s gaze had been drawn over your shoulder, the blush that rode high on Ochako’s rosy cheeks. Their disappearance at the ball, the night in the corridor where’d you stumbled over Izuku. It all made terrible, horrible sense.

Ochako had never been in love with the prince.

“Mr. Midoriya,” the guardsman said, “Forgive me, but I believe you’re interrupting a criminal investigation.”

“No, sir,” another voice cut in, and you whipped around to find Lady Utsushimi at the other entrance. “I am interrupting a criminal investigation.”

Your mouth dropped open and you felt a little bit like you were losing your mind. Was the entire castle going to come witness your arrest? What was Lady Utsushimi doing here?

A murmur went through the other servants, several of them eyeing Lady Utsushimi with interest. Her gaze swept disdainfully over the chaos of the kitchens, flickering over the guards in their red livery and Ochako clutched in Izuku's hands before landing back on you.

“My afternoon tea was interrupted by a guardsman checking on the return of a dress, claiming that the thief had struck again today,” she said haughtily. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the accused was none other than my favorite kitchen girl.”

The place staff stared at her, silent.

"I came all the way down to this..." she hesitated, eyes roaming judgmentally back over the messy worktables, "place...to tell you that the dress in question today is also mine. And that Y/N did not steal it, the blessed simpleton. I lent it to her."

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as another guardsman turned to her in bewilderment. “She herself claims to have stolen it, my lady.”

Lady Utsushimi raised her own scornful eyebrow, and the guardsman seemed to shrink before her. “Are you suggesting that I am a liar, sir?”

That’s exactly what she was. Despite yourself, your heart went out to the poor fop.

“N-no, my lady,” he stuttered. He seemed to cast about desperately for any explanation. “I only meant--”

“I suppose you didn’t even stop to think before marching in here and calling foul, did you?” she demanded, and his panic seemed to increase exponentially.

You had to stifle an absurd laugh. Though not the dress on trial at the moment, you had quite literally stolen this woman’s gown. And here she was, busting into the kitchens to yell at a man for accusing you of the very same.

The eyes of the kitchen staff flicked between them, looking on as though they’d never seen a match more engaging. Their interest was dialed up by a thousand, however, when a head of red and white hair appeared over Izuku’s shoulder.

“Izuku, why’d you run off? Is everything--” Prince Shouto stopped, staring at the scene before him. His full mouth parted in surprise, and instantly his eyes snapped to you.

You flushed, twisting nervously in your bindings.

“Y/N, I thought I had asked you to wait for me,” was the first thing he said. Your blush deepened and a chatter began to build in the crowds of the kitchen staff.

You cleared your throat. “I, um...something came up.”

The prince's eyebrows went up and he huffed a soft laugh. “Yes, I can see that.”

The guardsman who held you shifted nervously behind you. “Your highness, you know this girl?”

Prince Shouto fixed his gaze on the guardsman, stepping forward. “I do. Has she done something?”

A delicate sniff came from over your shoulder. “She's done nothing, as I’ve been telling them.”

Shouto’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Camie? What are you doing here?”

Lady Utsushimi inspected a fingernail idly. “Informing them that she did not, in fact, steal my dress.” She waved her hand at the fluffy monstrosity now hanging loosely in Kamiko’s shocked grip. “This idiot girl," she gestured to Kamiko, "seems to have assumed the worst. Or to have lied.”

Something like fear flashed across Kamiko's angelic features and you had to stifle another laugh.

“Will someone tell me what the devil is going on?” The housekeeper groused from Kamiko's side. “Is there a reason why all these nobles are here for Y/N?”

You had to wonder at that as well.

Lady Utsushimi, however, seemed to have no problem adding fuel to the fire. “I'm here because I lent her my dress, of course," she paused, a sly look crossing her face. A vague sense of sudden foreboding came over you.

"I figured she should get used to wearing them..." Lady Utsushimi said, a smirk overtaking her features,"...seeing as she’s going to be Shouto’s bride.”

Your brain turned off, and you stood frozen in absolute bamboozlement.

What in the hell did she think she was doing?

Shouto coughed uncomfortably. "Camie, I told you that in confidence. I didn't realize you were already acquainted with Y/N."

Lady Utsushimi shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not like you weren't going to ask her."

Your eyes flashed up to Shouto’s and he stared back, lifting a shoulder a little helplessly. “I had planned on asking you a little differently, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He pushed his way past Izuku and strode the length of the room to kneel before you.

You could only stare down at him in shock.

“Y/N,” he said in that soft, low tone that made you feel like your mind feel a little like it was melting. “I love you, and I can't let you go now that I've found you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

All your blood seemed to rush out of your head to pool somewhere near your feet, leaving you mindless.

“Shouto, but I -- but you --”

He laughed, and he took both of your bound hands in a calloused palm. “I understand if you say you won’t, but I hope more than anything to hear you say you will.”

You looked down at him, your eyes darting over his handsome face. “You mean it? You really love me?”

He smiled. A length of silver ribbon appeared in his fingers. “Since the first moment you trod on my toes.”

You laughed, a feeling of euphoria crashing over you like a tidal wave. You felt incredible, like you could shoot apart like a firework, run the length of the continent, lift the entire castle with only your mind.

Shouto loved you. Ochako loved Midoriya, and Shouto loved you.

"Yes!” you shouted, startling even yourself with your own enthusiasm.

Shouto grinned and leaned forward, looping the silver ribbon over one of your wrists. “I had hoped to have a ring prepared before asking,” he said, shooting a sour look in Lady Utsushimi’s direction. “This will have to do for now.”

Lady Utsushimi inspected her nails again, nonplussed.

Abruptly, Shouto stood, scooping you up into his arms as he did. You yelped, throwing your still-bound arms around his neck in terror. He laughed into your hair.

“Shouto!” You gasped, clutching at him, but he was already moving, kicking the door into the servants’ hall open with one booted foot.

“Camie, Izuku, please see that this situation is resolved,” he said, carrying you into the halls. His deep voice bounced off the stone walls. “And send word to my father than I cannot be disturbed for the rest of the evening. I will speak with both of you later.”

Without waiting for their response, he moved down the hallway, turning the corner into the castle proper. He carried you through the palace, up through that winding series of brightly-lit halls. You blushed as people stared at you in passing, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. Then the world around you was all a blur of windows and doorways, until you stood before the grand oak doors to his apartments.

“Please ensure that we are not disturbed for the next twelve hours,” Shouto said to the guardsmen as they opened the doors for him, and you felt the tips of your ears go red. Surely he didn’t mean...?

As the doors closed behind you, Shouto carried you through his sitting room, straight through the double doors that lead to his bedchamber. His bed appeared much neater this time around, the covers clearly having been laundered and remade, but you did not have much time to admire it before you were tossed bodily onto it.

You yelped, but Shouto was already there, his body covering yours and pressing you into the soft, soft give of his bedding.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said, his face dipping near to yours. His eyes were so bright and a roguish grin cut into the corner of his mouth. A rough hand came up to gently press one of your arms down next to your head.

Your breathing shallowed. “I had wanted to talk to Ochako.”

He looked at you in question.

“I had...believed her to be in love with you. I see now that I was quite mistaken,” you said.

Shouto laughed. “So that’s who Izuku has been sneaking around with. No wonder he ran after her at the ball. She was the Lady Uraraka, yes?”

You nodded.

“And that was why you came to the ball,” he murmured, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “And slipped her jewelry onto my tray. Why didn’t you say something, that day in my chambers when I asked for information?”

You squirmed. “I thought you were...angry with me. You were asking for the Lady Ito, and Captain Bakugou kept brandishing his sword.”

Shouto smirked. “You thought I meant to have revenge for my poor toes?”

You flushed. “I know now that you wouldn’t.”

His smirk turned predatory. “I rather think I would. I believe I will collect my dues this very moment.”

With that, he leaned down and slotted his mouth with yours. Your blood rushed in your ears. His mouth was so soft and he tasted like mint, exactly the way you'd thought he would.

A calloused hand slipped up your waist to press you up into him. You gasped, arching with the motion of his hand to get closer to him, pressing desperately against him.

He groaned softly and slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving to hold the back of your head in a gentle but firm grip.

“Y/N,” he breathed when he drew back from you. “I shouldn’t go any further. It would be improper, before we are married.”

You let out a frustrated noise and threw your arms over his neck to draw him back to you. “I stole Lady Utsushimi’s dress and broke into your birthday. I called Kamiko a spineless fucking flop and all but poisoned your food with a necklace. I spend every evening up to my elbows in ashes and soot because I can’t keep my mouth shut. I don’t care about proper.”

And then you pulled his mouth back to yours. Shouto seemed to resist for a moment before sinking back into you, his weight trapping you heavily against the mattress.

“Unless you’re worried about your virtue,” you teased when you finally broke apart.

A dark look came into his grey and blue gaze and he gestured to your still bound wrists. “I rather think you ought to be more worried about your own predicament, love.”

A shiver raced down your spine. His sharp gaze caught it and he smirked.

“Like that, do you?” he pushed back onto his knees and pulled his shirt over his head. Your mind went blank, and all your focus narrowed to the sight of his sculpted chest and well defined abs, the promise of power in his sinewy arms. This is what he had been hiding beneath all those soft doublets.

Shouto leaned over you again, caging you in and lowering his face to yours. “That day in the library. You shivered when I called you a good girl.”

You flushed in embarrassment.

“I confess to imagining what else would make you tremble like that.” He turned his face into your neck, biting down softly. You gasped, and your hips lifted into him before you could stop yourself.

“It’s time for me to take my revenge for everything you’ve put me through, love,” he breathed, laving over your collarbone. “You've hid enough from me these past weeks. You are going to come apart for me - once for every day you hid from me.”

You moaned, grasping frantically at his arm. The week wasn't long enough to give him that many climaxes, never mind the evening. “Shouto, I can’t.”

His mouth dipped below the line of your dress. “You're going to try, love. As your prince, I command it. I will wring them from you should I have to.”

Shouto’s fingers moved to the hem of your dress and he pushed it up over your head, helping you move your shoulders to roll it out from underneath you.

“Perfect,” he breathed. His mouth latched over a nipple and you arched desperately up into him. His clever fingers trailed down over the skin of your thigh, before slipping beneath your underwear. He pressed gently against your clit and you moaned even louder, writhing somewhat helplessly underneath him.

“S-Shouto,” you panted. “Please let me touch you.”

His mouth released your nipple, only for him to flick his tongue over the hardening bud. “When I’ve properly avenged my toes, princess.”

His fingers pressed into you and you moaned again. He looked up into your face, staring with interest. You moved to hide your face in embarrassment but he caught you by the arm and pinned it back into the mattress above your head. The bindings held your other arm in place with it.

Shouto kissed you again, and his clever fingers twisted inside you. Heat built within you, and as his thumb pressed insistently against your clit, your vision went white with pleasure.

You rode his hand to completion as he swallowed the sounds of your moans. When you returned to yourself, he was stroking your hair gently as your hips jerked in weak little circles against him.

“So beautiful,” he said, smiling and pressing another kiss to your mouth. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. You’re going to be the most loved princess this kingdom has ever seen.”

You flushed, but smiled against his mouth. “I hope to at least be the most well-read."

His varicolored gaze raked over you, like he was cataloguing every one of your features to save forever, and his hand tightened in your hair.

"I love you, Shouto,” you said, letting your gaze rove over him too. "I'm sorry to have hid from you for so long."

He smiled, looking elated at your pronouncement. “Y/N," he said, "I love you, too.”

Then, a serious look overtook his handsome face one more. “But I believe we have some unfinished business, love. That’s one,” he said, and his hand moved to unlace his breeches. “But you have several more to go."

He rolled over you, stretching out over your body and reaching for your bindings. "I do think I promised you to teach you how to ride.”

You choked and blushed to the roots of your hair.

And teach you he did.

#bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #fanfic #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #boku no hero academia #smut

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xtrashmammalstefx · 4 years ago

Text

Where My Demon’s Hide (A Zak Bagans x Nephilim Reader SMUT!)

WARNINGS: SMUT, LANGUAGE

SPECIAL THANKS TO: @xcazzax who not only gave me this idea but who has inspired me to maybe write Zak Bagans fics for each day of October (or at least try to). Thanks girly, for helping me get my mojo back. 😊

I arrived at the Asylum just as they were setting up the cameras. I've been with the GAC for a few years now and I have yet to have a boring day with them. They are and always will be my family. Aaron, was like a goofball older brother who smokes like a chimney, looks tough as shit but is actually chicken shit (not that that's a bad thing, lord knows I'm not brave when locked in a haunted room on my lonesome). Billy is my punk rock brother who has also not grown out of the punk/emo phase of life. Jay is the responsible one of the group (aka the dad) who sometimes looks like he's ashamed of having raised such dumbass kids. And there's Zak, the main man of GAC who is both crazy and beautiful. He wasn't afraid to get in an evil spirits face, and even opened up his home to those who were harming others in their old one's. It's that twisted generosity that has led to moments like these.

Aaron looked nervous and Billy seemed to not want to leave the van unless absolutely necessary. That only meant one thing.

“How is he?” I asked Aaron who was getting the equipment ready.

“Um, well...”

“ C'MON SHOW YOURSELF YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!” We heard Zak yell from inside the asylum.

“Oh,” I sighed. I swear it was like Zak attracted evil (and sometimes demonic) spirits like chocolate attracts a hoard of kids. Then again he was more than okay with investigating places with the most gruesome of histories. “I'll see if I can cool him down before the shoot. Just hang tight.”

“'Kay, good luck Y/N.” Aaron said.

I grabbed a flashlight from the van and walked in to the asylum. Zak was in the middle of reception area with a wild look in his eye. “Zak?”

He looked at me. “There's something here I-I know it!”

I looked around not seeing anything until my eyes landed on a shadowy figure hovering around Zak. Ah shit. “Zak it's not one of the residents,” I said. “One of your little friends is just being an asshole.”

The shadow looked up and snarled at me.

“Yeah I'm talking about you,” I rolled my eyes. “Now kindly fuck off before I hose your sorry ass down with holy water.”

It growled and vanished.

“Thanks,” Zak said calming down a bit.

“We really need to do something about this Zak,” I said. “You can't keep letting them get to you like that. It's how they win.”

“I know but...I don't know how else to keep them from hurting anyone,” he said. “From hurting you.”

“Well it's gone for now, and that's all that matters,” I said brushing his cheek with my hand. “Now are we just gonna chill in here or are we gonna investigate this bitch?”

He smirked. “C'mon my ghost whisperer let's get you a mic and a camera.” He threw his arm around my shoulders and escorted me back out of the asylum and to the GAC van.

Eventually the sun went down fully and the haunting hour was upon us. “Okay Y/N why don't you stay here by yourself for a bit and see what you can get.” Zak said when we reached the children's ward.. Sadistic fucker.

“Sure,” I said. He and the crew left and I sat down cross-legged on the ground and put my 'gift' to work. “Hello there. I was wondering if we could talk for a minute if that's okay.” I placed the spirit box on the floor in front of me. “You see this little box? Well if you talk into it I can hear you...er I mean the world will hear you. I for one don't really need it. So what do you say?”

“D-Do you know where my mommy is?” A small voice called out in the darkness.

I sighed. “No sweetie, I don't...what's your name?”

“H-Hazel,” she said.

“It's nice to meet you, Hazel, I'm Y/N,” I said. “Can you do me a favor and speak into this?” I motioned at the spirit box. “My friends really want to know you, and help you if we can.”

“R-Really? Wuh-What about Dr. Meanie?” she asked.

“Dr. Bronson can't hurt you anymore,” I said. “And if he tries, he'll have to deal with me.”

I suddenly felt a weight on my lap, like that of a small child snuggling up to mommy.

“I-Is this okay?” she asked.

“Yes, beautiful, it's fine.” I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. “God, how did such a sweet little angel like you end up here? This is no place for a child.”

“M-Mommy came here when I was still in her tummy,” she explained. “They took me away after I was born and I never saw her again.”

“Do you know how you ended up like this?” I asked. “You're awfully young to be as you are.”

“I-I got sick...Dr. Meanie wouldn't give me my medicine 'cause I slapped Tippy on the head for pulling my hair. One day I went to sleep, and...and suddenly I was invisible.”

“Have you tried to go into the light?” I asked. “I'm sure you'll find your mommy there, and someday I'll be there too.”

“I thought I saw it once but...I was afraid. Dr. Meanie tells us it's not safe.”

“It is safe,” I said. “I promise you it is a thousand times better than this place.” I wanted to say shit hole but I had a rule about cussing in front of kids, even the dead ones.

“It's in my room,” she whispered.

I sniffed back a tear and kissed the top of her head. “Go to it,” I urged her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, angels belong in heaven after all,” I said brushed her cheek and she giggled.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/M,” she said standing up and vanishing through the nearby doorway.

“Good bye sweet angel,” I said before turning off the spirit box and pausing my camera.

I left the ward and got Zak on the walkie. “Alright, I'm done.”

“'Kay I'm down in the basement if you wanna...WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Zak?” He didn't answer. “ZAK!?” Still nothing. I sighed. “Dammit.”

I took off running.

Down in the basement Zak was looking around and shouting like a madman. “Zak what happened?! What's going on?!”

“There was a shadowing standing right fucking next to me,” he said. I looked around and sure enough a tall shadowy figured hovered behind him.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” I snapped at it.

“My, my...” it said smugly. “Aren't you an interesting specimen.”

“Leave us alone, now!” I said. It laughed. “I'm not fucking around! Leave and never return to this sacred ground.” He flinched at the words I've said more times than I would like.

“Foolish woman,” he laughed. “This place is anything but sacred.”

“It wasn't in your time,” I said walking towards a nearby wall. “But now...” I took my bottle of holy water and dabbed some onto my hand. I then drew a cross on the wall.

“Is that all you got?” the demon scoffed.

I smirked. “Lesson number one in haunting,” I said taking out my small switchblade. I made a small cut on my fore finger and drew a symbol on the wall above the cross. A symbol no demon could fight against. “Don't piss off a Nephilim.”

The empty pits where it's eyes once were widened and a loud roar erupted from its mouth.

“I, Y/N, the daughter of Michael send thee to the house of thy uncle Lucifer...may he not have mercy on your soul.” The ground opened up and the shadow was swallowed by a wall of flames. “I hate fucking demons,” I muttered once it was gone.

Zak looked at me in shock. “Is there really never gonna be a time when this doesn't surprise you?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said snapping out of it.

“You feeling okay?” I asked placing my hand on his cheek.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks...”

“Anytime,” I said pecking him on the cheek.

We continued investigating and got plenty of evidence that made sleeping not an option for the next year.

That night we were hold up in a hotel. I couldn't sleep so once I was showered and jammied up I went for a walk. So many different things ran through my mind and I tried to sort them out as best I could. But then I heard the shouting...

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” Zak damn near roared. “For fucks sake!” I heard him cry.

I went up to his door and knocked furiously. “Zak it's me, let me in!”

“Not now Y/N,” he begged.

“Yes now,” I snapped at him. “I know there's someone there with you and I'm the only one who can help, so let me fucking in!”

A moment later the door opened and Zak stood there looking exhausted and just done with life. It was terrifying and heartbreaking. ..but it was nothing compared to what his friend looked like. It was a snarling beast with skin resembling that of a dried date; brown and shiny. It's arm was around Zak's neck, holding him in a choke-hold. “He is mine.” It said, it's voice deep and chilling.

“No,” I said. “No he fucking isn't!”

I wrapped my arms around Zak and the demon let go as though it had burned. “A daughter of Michael...why am I not surprised?”

“In the name of my father leave this place!” I demanded.

“Brave like your father...” It said. “Unfortunately you're as foolish as he is as well. Watch your back daughter of Michael for I am not the only one in this world and my brethren aren't as friendly as I...” Friendly. My. Ass.

“IN THE NAME OF MY FATHER LEAVE THIS PLACE YOU COCKAROACH LOOKING SHIT!” I demanded once more...this time he listened.

With the demon gone I pulled back. “It's gone.”

Zak nodded. “Which one was it?”

“I think it was one of the pests you picked up at Bobby Mackey's.” I explained helping him to his bed.

“I thought we got rid of all of them?” he asked.

“Yeah well it seems this conniving little fucker did a good job of hiding during the clean up,” I said. “You gonna be okay?”

“I think so,” he said. “But I'd still feel better if you stayed...if that's alright.”

“You don't even have to ask,” I said rubbing his back with my hand. “Jesus,” I gasped. “You're burning up!”

“I just had a hot shower...the tap might have been busted 'cause shit was that water scalding.” I rolled my eyes.

“It didn't burn you too bad did it?” I asked. He shrugged. “Alright off with the shirt.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Not like that...I just wanna check for burns.”

He pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside. I crawled behind him on the bed and inspected his back. His skin was smooth, without so much as a scar. Even the tattoo on top was left unscathed. I leaned in and brought my lips to it. “You're good,” I said.

He turned around and our faces were suddenly closer than they've ever been. “Z-Zak?”

He said nothing...just leaned in and brought his lips to mine. So far in this brief life I've had four unforgettable nights.

The first was when I first met my dad when I was five. The second was when I found out what I was when I was thirteen...I felt at peace knowing everything I'd experienced finally made sense. The third was when I used my power to help the spirit of my best friend move on after a drunken asshole took her life. The fourth was the first time I went to Zak's house and gave him answers about the entities there.

And now...I was experiencing my fifth.

After a while Zak and I leaned back on the bed. His pants wound up joining his shirt, and eventually my clothes followed. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight as he pushed into me. I gasped. Like the rest of him, his length was pretty... thick.

I whimpered as he moved inside me. Our skin slapped together and he grunted with almost every thrust. I don't know how much time had passed but eventually I tightened around him, my toes curling up. “ZAAAK!!!” I moaned as my whole body tensed up.

Zak thrust a few more time, each time becoming more sloppy. “FUCK!” He groaned as he filled me up. He collapsed beside me and eventually sleep overcame us.

“I love you,” I whispered just before I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up needing very badly to pee. I tiptoed to the bathroom (not wanting to wake Zak) and relieved myself. When I got back Zak was sitting up with a confused look on his face.

“Zak?” I said sitting back down next to him.

He looked at me and tightened the blanket around his hips. “Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK?”

“What? What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? Are you fucking serious?” he said freaking out. “You're naked! FUCK, I'M NAKED! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!”

“Y-You mean you don't remember?” I said suddenly feeling uneasy.

“I remember coming back to the room after the investigation. I-I remember the inhumanly hot shower...then I saw this..this thing...next thing I know I'm waking up naked and raw.” My unease grew.

“I-I don't under...” I suddenly saw a dark, leathery skinned figure standing beside Zak's side of the bed. It had a sickening smirk on it's face.

“My brother was right, daughter of Michael,” it snarled. “You really are foolish.”

Realization hit me like a truck.

“SON OF A-!”

#zak bagans #zak bagans x reader #Smut #demons #nephilim #ghost adventures

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aestheticseungmean · 4 years ago

Text

My Heart Wanted You- Seo Changbin

Changbin was dating a girl who was using him but he just. couldn’t. see. it. Unfortunately for him, he found out the hard way.

Requested by @hwangscorpio

Warnings: Cussing

3.2K words

Angst but mainly fluff

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“Okay gentlemen, I’ll be waiting on your responses to join this groundbreaking evolution of technology. Have a great day!” A sigh left your lips as you stretched your fingers. Writing notes and comments all while evaluating what each of the men will decide, really takes a toll on you. As the men from other companies left the room, your boss bid them a farewell at the door before slumping in the seat. “Sir, you’re not supposed to sit like that. What would the others think?” You were his assistant which was never good in stories. But, you were respected and depended upon a lot. “_________. I think they would think I am a lazy boss. This is why you are my favorite asset. This company would be underground if it was just me.” Your boss was a young guy, thrown into this work way too early. “It looks like Hex Co. is excited to be in on this. The rest are unknown.”

“I would kill for something alcoholic. Run the notes through the database.” He sighed out, running his fingers through his current blond, moppy locks. “Will do, sir!” “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to look at him expectantly. “Stop calling me sir when we are alone. Makes me sound old.” You replied, “As you wish, master.” Knowing that that wasn’t what he had meant. He wanted you to call him by name. “_____.” A teasing smile graced your lips. “Sorry, Chan.” With your messy notes in hand, you walked towards your desk to input the data. When you first applied for the position, you were only going to do it to pay off student debt. Now, you loved your job, despite the aches and pains. Your boss was friendly, your coworkers were nice, lunch was always delicious. There was always something new to find in the office. One day it’s a pink door and another it’s a drone delivering notes before crashing into a wall.

Everything was perfect. Well, except your best friend Changbin. The thing was, he had a girlfriend. Which isn’t the bad part. No, the bad part was, she was manipulative and a pathological liar. For some odd reason, Changbin just couldn’t see it. The thoughts raced in your head as you inserted the info. “Hey, _____? Can you help me with my computer?” You stifled a laugh towards the younger male who looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “Sure, Jeongin.” It simply started out as just a few minutes until he asked you more and more. Before you knew it, it was time for him to clock out. “You know, I think Jeongin likes you.” “Oh, yeah? How do you reckon that?” You turned to face your boss who eyed your computer only seeing half the work done. “You don’t see those heart eyes he gives you? They’re bigger than that apple on your desk.” Chan let out a chuckle. “And you’re the master of love?” “Absolutely.”

You finished up your work while Chan spun around in the office chair he found. Clicking save, you turned to see your childish boss giggling as he spun faster and faster. “Chan stop, you’re going to get sick.” Eventually, he came to a stop and held his head in his hands, complaining about the world spinning so fast. “Hey, I told you so.” He looked up to find your smug face staring back at him. “You’re mean.” “Whatever, boss.” Walking beside him to clock out, you sighed happily as you left the building. The cold autumn breeze nipped at your cheeks and you thanked the gods that Chan wasn’t one of those bosses that forced you to wear business attire. In fact, that’s a reason he was so popular, he let people wear what they wanted as long as it was appropriate. You buried your face in the sweatshirt you brought knowing that it was in fact a chilly season. “Your sweater is wearing out.” “I know. I’ve had it for years but I still haven’t been able to buy a new one.”

The cool metal of the car door made you recoil, shivering in the process. “There’s still some daylight, come on.” Chan grabbed your hand. “Where are we going?” “To get you a new hoodie. I don’t know how you stay warm with all those holes.” From a distance, it would look like you two were a couple and that is exactly what happened. “_______!” You gagged in disgust at the fake voice you knew oh so well. “Hello, Lila.” “I didn’t know you had such a handsome boyfriend.” A protest started to leave your lips but Chan stopped you. “Yeah, I didn’t know you had such a handsome boyfriend, _______.” You watched as Changbin’s girlfriend batted her mile long, fake eyelashes at Chan. “Where is Changbin?” “Oh he’s busy.” She replied, not even taking her eyes off of the blond. Does she really think you are stupid? Changbin had no plans today and he wanted to surprise Lila with some chocolates. When she thought you weren’t looking, her fingers trailed up Chan’s arms. You cleared your throat and she dropped her hands.

“Have a good night, Lila.” The words were cold and harsh as you pushed Chan away from the girl. He spoke up after you made your way into the store. “She seems um, nice?” “She’s a bitch.” Heat fought off the cold that lingered on your skin. “Colourful words there. Is she really that bad?” You scoffed while scanning through the hoodie section. “She’s always flirting with other guys while she’s dating my friend. He deserves more than that lying, scheming, conniving bitch.” Chan huffed at the new information. “Someone like you?” “Exactly- Wait? What?” You abruptly turned around only to be met by a broad chest. “I told you, I’m the love expert.” He teased. You watched as he reached behind you to pull out a large hoodie. The cloth was shoved towards you expectantly. “You’d look good in this. Plus, it’s soft inside.” A million thoughts pummeled through your mind but you played it off. “So we’re going to ignore the fact that you are my boss yet giving me love advice.”

Chan chuckled, his dimples prominent on his face. “Just think of it as a friend giving another friend love advice.” Breaking your gaze off of his, you looked towards the hoodie he had handed you. It was a maroon color and was definitely going to be big on you but you liked that. You liked getting swallowed up by your hoodies, coats, sweaters, and sweatshirts. It offered you a sense of comfort and warmth considering you were unreasonably cold 24/8. “So we’re friends?” Chan nodded. “I’d like to think so.” “I like that.” He smiled once again and led you to the cash register. “Just these items?” “Yes.” The cashier looked unamused at everything. It made you happy because you don’t think you could handle another person fawning over your boss. “Have a good night.” “You too, miss.” Chan handed the bag to you outside of the store. Respectfully, he looked away as you switched hoodies which you found cute because you had on a shirt underneath.

“Okay, I’m done.” “Do you want to keep this hoodie?” You shook your head. “Then can I do the honours of throwing it away?” “How about we do it together?” A gleam in his eyes signified that he agreed to that. When you reached the familiar, pristine parking lot, the two of you walked towards the dumpster and threw away the tattered fabric. “Thank you, but I must be going.” “Have a good night and see you tomorrow!” You wished him a good night as well and entered your car. The silent rumble of the engine coming to life sent a rush of excitement through you. “I’m going home to sleep!” Except, it wasn’t that easy. The lights were on which was unusual considering you don’t have a roommate. “Hello?” A blanket was sprawled out on the guest bed and all that peeked out was soft brown hair that belonged to your best friend. “Bin?” The blanket shuffled and warm yet tired eyes peeked up at you. “I went for a walk today but it got too cold. I hope you don’t mind that I crashed here.”

“Of course not. You are welcome here all the time.” Changbin smiled a little and sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. “Have you eaten yet?” “No, I was waiting on Lila but she never came.” The nerve of that bitch. Anyone could see how much Changbin was putting into this relationship and she was throwing it all away. “Are you okay?” A shiver ran down his spine at the motherly look he was receiving. “I’m okay, I promise.” “Let’s go make some food.” You took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen to make macaroni. Sure it was midnight but it doesn’t matter. When the light hit his face, you could see his tear stained cheeks. “Changbin-“ “I can’t help it. I know she’s not in the relationship anymore but I love her.” You rested your head against his and sighed. “I know. I just wish you could see the others who love you more.” Changbin pulled away first and directed his attention towards making the food.

——————————————

The next day, Changbin was gone before you finished getting ready for work. It was disheartening but fair considering you pushed into his life. You topped off your outfit consisting of simple jeans, blouse and the sweatshirt Chan got you with a toboggan. The office was warm as you entered making you happy. “You look good today. Is that a new hoodie?” Unfortunately, you were not alone for long. “Yes it is, Jeongin. And thank you, you look good today as well.” The younger boy beamed with pride, ecstatic that you thought he looked good. “I brought a hot chocolate for my favorite assistant! Oh, Jeongin. You’re early. I’m afraid I didn’t get you one but if you want, I’ll give you five dollars so you can get one.” “It’s okay, hyung.” He went to work leaving you and Chan alone. “First of all, I am your only assistant. Second, give me the hot coco because I had a restless night.”

You took a sip of the steaming liquid and sighed. “What happened?” “Changbin crashed at my place because his fucking girlfriend stood him up. He cried. Cried. I hate that bitch.” The pencil in your other hand cracked under your anger. “Calm down. There’s only so much you can make someone see.” He shuffled a few things around on your desk to make room for him to sit. “I know.” “Here, let me take you to lunch today.” You nodded, allowing him to smile and tell you to make sure he has enough time to take you to get food. The hours leading up to lunch were monotone, filled with boringness except Chan occasionally pestering you. Your phone buzzed violently on the desk, you picked it up and answered the call without looking at the ID. “Hello?” “Can we go out to eat today? I want to be around someone.” It was Changbin. It hurt you hearing the amount of pain that was in his voice, signalling he was alone today as well. “My boss wants to take me to lunch but I’ll cancel so I can go with you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to impose.” “Changbin. Just come to my work and we will all three go. I want to be there for you. You know that.” A sniffle from the other side. “Okay. I’m heading that way now.” “I love you, Binnie.” A single sob let out before he hung up, getting ready to go see you. Banging your head against the desk sounded like an amazing option right now. Yet, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with it. “Hey, you're almost ready?” “I hope you don’t mind but Changbin’s in his way here and I invited him to tag along.” Chan giggled and ruffled your hair before motioning to stand up. “Of course I don’t mind. I feel like a proud dad watching their kid chase after someone. Don’t mind me.” Rolling your eyes playfully at his antics, you grabbed the hoodie that was discarded earlier and put off to the side. It was like you were two all of a sudden when you mixed up the holes. It was a sight to see when Changbin walked in. On one side, you had Jeongin trying to pull up the hoodie and on the other was Chan doing the same. “Put your hands up!” “I’m trying, Chan!” He scoffed and tugged at the material. “Try harder.”

Changbin laughed at the scene in front of him knowing that he’s been in the boys’ position. With Jeongin being able to free his side, Chan was able to slip his side off scrunching up the hoodie and put it over your head. “Arm.” You turned red as you saw Changbin watching you get babied by your boss. “I said arm. Are you not paying attention?” He turned to see what you were staring at and smiled. “Oh, your 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ is here.” You put your hand through the arm hole and shoved him. “Shut up.” Chan made a move to do the other side as well but you put your arm through it before he could. “No.” Changbin was taken by surprise when you hugged him tightly. “Please forget you ever saw that.” He smiled but shook his head. “No can do.” “Hey, go get your wallet and phone before we leave.” Your friend eyed your boss and felt you move away, immediately missing your warmth. “Okay, got it.” “HAVE FUN, _____!” Jeongin yelled at before you left and you waved at him and said “I will.”

The diner was a 60’s style diner with girls on skates. “I wanted to work here because they rode on roller skates.” The only catch though, you’d have to wear the outfits too. A tall waitress rolled up to you while pulling out her order sheet. “What can I get you guys to drink?” You looked at the drink names and snorted. “I’ll have the Groovy Ginger Ale.” The words were choked out as you continued to read the names. “I would like a Disco Dew.” Changbin recited, smiling at how easily amused you were. Chan was last. “I’ll take a Funky Fanta.” She clicked her pen and gave off the server’s anthem. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to get your order.” Chan nodded and thanked her. “Okay, I take it back. I wouldn’t be able to work here.” Changbin tilted his head confused. “Why?” “Imagine people saying Funky Fanta except it’s in different tones and voices.” Both of them shook their heads at the thought. Soon, the waitress came back to get the food order.

“I have to use the restroom real quick.” You and Chan nodded and watched Changbin walk away. The doorbell chimed and a familiar face walked in. Your eyes widened in surprise because she was with a boy. She noticed you right away. “Fancy seeing you guys here. Don’t you guys work or something?” “Yes, Lila. We are on a lunch break and who is he?” Lila flashed a smile over to Chan. “He’s my friend.” “Where’s Changbin?” You knew the answer but you wanted to know what stupid lie she was going to come up with. “I’m going to go find us a table.” The male placed a quick peck on her lips before she pulled him back in for a longer one. Behind them stood a crushed heart watching the whole thing. “L-Lila?” Her face dropped and she quickly turned around. “Binbin!” Changbin side stepped her attempt at a hug and a kiss. “Looks like he was a really good friend.” Lila pursed her thousand dollar lips which weren’t done well. “Bin don’t be this way, you haven’t returned my texts. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

The customers started to stare at the commotion, clearly feeling bad for the fake girl. “I didn’t return your texts?” You knew this was going to get ugly soon and clearly Chan did to. His body was tense next to yours. Changbin pulled out his phone and showed her the texts. “It was the other way around. I was the one texting you and you were off with other people. I should’ve listened to _____!” Lila’s face turned ugly as she became angry. “YOU MEAN THAT WHORE WHO’S CLEARLY FUCKING HER BOSS?” Changbin started to say something but you stood up. Her face smelled like cheap grandma perfume but you ignored it. “I AM NOT FUCKING MY BOSS. HE IS MY FRIEND OUTSIDE OF WORK. FURTHERMORE, IF I WERE TO FUCK ANYONE, IT’D BE WITH THE PERSON YOU FUCKED OVER.” Her mile long nails scraped your face as she slapped you. Seething, you punched her. Hard. You heard a crack and blood spilled from her nose. Still angry, you went back for more before Changbin carried you outside.

The cold air cooled you down and you focused on the male in front of you. “You told me you were okay! You promised!” He couldn’t keep eye contact, instead he cried. “I couldn’t force myself to do it.” “If you still love her, I can’t keep being the person you go to to cry. I love you but this whole hurting yourself is not okay.” You turned to walk back into the diner to get Chan only to see him walking out. “I paid and the lunch is here. We are not allowed back in there again.” “It’s okay.” The mood was tense as you guys ate in the meeting room. Changbin left only saying a small bye and thank you. “He likes you too.” “CHAN JUST STOP WITH THIS LOVE CRAP. I’M SICK OF IT ALREADY.” This time, you didn’t care if you hurt yourself. You slammed your head on the hard table and cried. Cried from the pain in your head, cried from anger, from your heart hurting. “I want you to go home early today. Finish what work you were doing and go home. Go to bed.” Chan’s voice wasn’t soft as usual. It was commanding. And, you complied.

The apartment was quiet save for the fish tank filter. You threw your stuff to the ground and noticed that Changbin’s shoes were set by the door. You walked towards the guest room to find him hunched on the floor crying. He was surrounded by ripped up photos of him and Lila. “Binnie?” Changbin looked up, the tears in his eyes making your heart ache. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” “Of course.” You sat down next to him and pulled him close before stroking his hair. “I’ve been fighting my feelings. I knew that deep down inside, she wasn’t right for me but I clinged onto her. But I realized today that she wasn’t the one my heart wanted.” He paused for a minute to wipe his nose with the sleeve of his coat. “My heart longed for the person who loved me even though I shut them out. I rejected their love because I was too scared to ruin the friendship.” “Changbin-“ Your fingers paused as you thought about what he was saying. “My heart wanted you.”

#seo changbin angst #changbin x angst #changbin angst #changbin fluff #kpop #stray kids #jeongin #changbin x reader #bang chan fluff #jeongin fluff #changbin x you #stray kids x angst #skz angst #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

Text

Adversity - 13-A

Fanfic update

I’ve decided to utilize this tumblr space to put in WIPs/partial chapters/unedited stories from my end. Then I’ll post it somewhere in Ao3 or FF.net. Maybe.

In the meantime, here’s an installment of Adversity (the chapters here in tumblr aren’t updated – it would make much more sense if you check it out on Ao3 first before coming back here). In essence this is part of Chapter 13.

Keen to hear what you think about this portion :)

Adversity details

Multi-chapter, work in progress, AU, pre-LoK,

Latest status: up to Chapter 12 uploaded in A03

Blurb: Lin and Tenzin are both at the height of their respective careers – she with the Metalbending Police and he with the Air Nation. Questions about their future begin to arise and things come to a head when Lin responded to an emergency call. Would her job take them from each other forever? Eventual happy ending. Alternatively: The one where Lin and Tenzin had to go through adversity like Lin’s dangerous job, a near-death experience, temporary separation and memory loss, unplanned pregnancy and Tenzin’s responsibilities before they end up with a family.

Tumblr chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Ao3 link | Ff.net link

---

Adversity – 13-A

Tenzin clutches a warm towel and wipes it across her forehead. He did not know why and if it would help but he thought it might make her feel better.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, no longer laborious or irregular. Nonetheless, he kept vigil and held one of her hands. It reminded him of incidents in the past years where he kept watch over her – that night in the Fire Nation Royal Compound when they first found her alive, those nights after missions that might have gone fatally wrong…

The day had started promising. But as always with the two of them, it never was easy…

Once he had the cabana in his view, he should have known that Izumi would have pulled something like this.

---

Tenzin received a message from one of the staff that the princess requested for lunch to be served at one of the beach cabanas. He did not think much about it; it has happened before and figured that maybe Izumi was being a good host.

There was only one person else in the cabana – Lin, who was looking puzzled and was frowning at something on the table.

His feet hit the sand and the earthbender turned to him. “Oh, it’s you.” She looked at him incredulously.

“Sorry to disappoint.” He deadpanned, seating across her. He did not ask questions, assuming that she was led to the cabana using the same ruse.

"I had no idea that you were the man that Izumi said that I'll be meeting for lunch." Lin flicked a note towards him. “Why is she doing this? I found that upon arriving here.”

He caught the paper that slid on the table.

It was in Izumi’s handwriting – informing Lin to please consider (consider – the word was underlined heavily, the insinuation not lost to the reader) this man that she has invited for her. And that they would be left to their own devices as the princess has taken the entire family off for a scenic tour of the island on Druk, Appa and Oogi.

Trust that Izumi would have connived with the rest of the family to pull something like this off.

Tenzin felt the need to apologize for their meddling family and did just that.

Lin shrugged, seemingly uninterested. “Is this supposed to be a test?”

“A test?” What does she mean?

“For me – or for you?” Lin asked back.

“Like for your memory?” To the airbender, it seemed like they were having a different conversation.

The earthbender looked vaguely uncomfortable now, hand lightly patting her belly. “Um no – I mean, for you – is Izumi…?” She trailed off.

For the life of him, Tenzin could not think of what the continuation was.

“Your partner?” Lin finally asked.

What.

“No!” Tenzin’s voice rose, surprised by the question that he did not even consider that the response might have sounded rude. “Of course not!”

“Don’t you protest too much?” Lin was amused. “It’s fine really – or is it a matter of security?” She was being nonchalant about it though Tenzin could have sworn there was a tiny bit of relief in her voice.

“What. No – it’s not like that.” Tenzin had to disabuse her of this ludicrous idea she had. “They’re all just meddling – they mean well – look, Izumi – she’s not my type -!”

Now you just sounded like a whiny teenager.

He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. “Well, seems like they’re setting us up.”

“Whatever for,” She rolled her eyes then grinned. “Let’s not waste the food then.”

He found himself chuckling at that as Lin proceeded to scoop some food on her plate. “Joke’s on them though.”

Lin’s only response was a raised eyebrow.

“I actually intend to ask you out for dinner today.”

She paused and left her chopstick hanging in the air. “Dinner.”

He wet his dry lips. “Yes.”

“I take it you haven’t told them yet?” Lin examined the other dishes available to them. “What time do we need to get ready or we don’t know yet, depending on how soon they get back?”

Tenzin held the back of his neck as the heat crept up. “I mean, dinner – just us, you and me?”

As much as he did not want to admit, maybe Bumi was right – he did not have game.

Lin’s face was unreadable.

He was able to back-pedal when he heard it.

“Okay.”

---

The rest of their lunch went a smoother.

They talked about the mundane things – he talked about Republic City, she talked about the Fire Nation. She asked about what he does in the council and how the RCPD was when they left. He was more than happy to oblige and took the time to answer her questions in great detail.

Before long, when she declared that she felt too full for dessert, he invited her to walk along the shore. He pointed out a cluster of rock formations at the edge of the island.

Lin looked intrigued and they set forth.

He explained that Lord Zuko had told them when they were children that the rocks were formed when the volcano used to be active. It made for an impressive sight, tall and a bit forbidding.

That did not stop them though, Tenzin shared, as they would keep going back there to play when they were younger.

They stood beside the rocks, sandals soaked by the sea, small waves lapping at their legs.

He was in the middle of a retelling of the time Bumi had dared Su to race him to the top (not knowing that the kid can earthbend really well by then) when rather large wave crashed against the rock formation, spraying and drenching them with salt water.

He was laughing, saying he probably should have warned that that usually happens. His eyes alighted on her and was caught mid-laugh.

Lin stood stiffly, her eyes wild. One hand on her cheek (her scars), another on her chest - breathing erratically gulping air.

“Lin!” He immediately held her by the shoulders; she was shaking. “Lin!”

A panic attack.

Each breath rattled against chest as she started blankly, unseeing. Lin was insensible to her surroundings.

Tenzin scooped her up and ran as it all clicked.

Captain Tomasu did say that they had found Lin in the water.

Damn.

The minutes it took him to the rest house felt like hours. With the family away on whatever excursion Izumi and Iroh planned, he had to rely on the staff to come to their aid. Fortunately, the in-house healer was at hand.

The rest was a blur.

He felt the moment she regained consciousness. Her breathing shifted yet her eyes remained close.

Tenzin continued to run his fingers on her knuckles, whether to comfort her or himself was unclear.

Lin blinked slowly, her breathing sped up. Her hand quickly slapped to her cheek, tracing the scar with shaking fingers.

The airbender could hear her murmuring softly.

“My name is Lin. I’m in Ember Island. I’m okay. I’m safe. We’re -.” Her eyes focused and saw Tenzin at the periphery. “The baby?”

Tenzin leaned forward, grasping both of her hands and placing them on her stomach. “Is okay. You’re both okay – I had you both checked. You just had a little panic attack.”

There was no use alarming her.

“Panic attack…” She whispered to herself. “I used to black out before…”

“I’m sorry,” Tenzin said quietly. “I should have paid more attention to you.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Lin said in an equally soft tone. To his astonishment, she pulled his hand up to her cheek and leaned on it. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

He extended his fingers, gingerly touching her cheek. There were still times in the past weeks when he could not believe that she was here and she was alive. Little touches like these were rare and he savored the moments to remind himself that she was truly there.

“The rice granary,” Lin began, staring at the ceiling, actively avoiding Tenzin’s gaze. “It exploded, you know, the man – the firebender –.”

The airbender waited, this was in the papers and the reports that he was very familiar with.

“He knew what he was doing,” Lin held on his fingers tightly. “He saw me and he set fire – I fell to the water. I felt like drowning – maybe I did.” Tenzin gripped her hand back. “It was really hot and there was a lot of metal scraps. I remember sinking and maybe removing my armor…” Her face scrunched, obviously thinking. “The current was fast, rapidly swept me away – it was so cold. I thought I was going to die.” She resolutely focused on the ceiling when she heard Tenzin’s gasp. “I don’t know how long it was – it was dark, then there was light. My lungs – they burned so bad. Next thing I knew – I was aboard Captain Tomasu’s ship.”

Tenzin’s own breath caught.

Could it be… her memories have returned?

“Don’t force it.” He rubbed her wrist back and forth, hoping to sooth her.

“It’s still blank.” Her face was troubled and eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I don’t remember what happened before the explosion.”

Feeling her get distressed, Tenzin moved closer to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m Lin Beifong, my mother is Toph – we grew up together in Republic City.” She now turned to him. “I live in Republic City now…”

His stomach churned. “What’s the last thing you remember from before?” He asked cautiously, afraid of triggering something.

“I’m deputy chief, I think.” She racked her brains. “There’s this small apartment. I think I live there.”

Tenzin swallowed. This was from a time before they lived together, when they were still exploring their relationship.

“I’m not losing it, am I? That really happened?” Her green eyes wide, seeing reassurance.

He nodded, still silently contemplating what this meant.

“After that – it’s blank.” She released a breath. “Did something significant happen during that missing period?”

“You got promoted to Chief of Police.”

“Maybe that’s it…something to do with work.” Lin guessed absentmindedly, biting her lip.

He added tentatively. “We’ve also decided to move in together.”

The way she looked at him now – it was as if she was seeing him for the first time.

“You’re the father.” She stated it so plaintively with a hint of caution.

“That’s the first time you’ve told me that.” Tenzin attempted to downplay the significance of the revelation. “Don’t worry about it – you probably didn’t know you were pregnant back then before –.” He waved a hand around, at a loss for words on how to explain the situation.

“You’re not even questioning it?” Her voice was tight and her posture tense.

“Not at all.”

She finally let tears flow.

---

He embraced her, murmuring reassurances that he will be there for her and the child. He will be involved.

But somehow – there was still that gap in her memory. She was missing something crucial, she can feel it - it was about the Air Nation. The gut feel was of hesitation and wariness. What was it about?

She had talked to Aang the previous days and there were no mentions of issues with the Air Nation.

Maybe it had something to do with crime? With her promotion as Chief of Police?

If only her mother were around… Maybe she could help her piece her memory together.

Lin pulled back from the airbender, who suddenly looked at her with apprehension.

“What happens now – what if I don’t remember?” Now that she had part of her memories back – she hated the feeling of uncertainty.

“We’ll take it one day at a time.” Tenzin inched closer to her, gently cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears. “Just know that you’re never alone.”

The sincerity in his eyes was enough for her. She did not even need to employ her seismic sense to know he was telling the truth.

She closed her eyes as he moved. She felt his lips on her forehead.

The airbender sat back down, a soft smile on his face.

She looked at their entwined fingers.

She will take this chance.

This was for her child. All for their child. And it will be enough.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip #toccatina adversity #lin beifong #tenzin #legend of korra fanfic

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voidstilesplease · 4 years ago

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in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo.

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier.

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~

#steo #steo fic #steo ficlet #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #parallel universe au #in another life #part 2 #fics tag #well the christmas prompts may have been lost #lmao #but well I guess I'll just continue with this #omg this is going to be a disaster fic #i can just feel it lmao

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cerberus253 · 4 years ago

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Demon Deep Dive (JCA)

Someone asked if I could do headcanons for the Eight Demon Sorcerers from Jackie Chan Adventures, so here it is, and more! Much more oh God...

Canon Stuff

All seven Demon Sorcerers HATE Shendu for his conniving nature and deceptive past towards/with them (Drago just hates him because father issues)

The Demon Sorcerers do not need external objects to perform spells, for it simply comes from their physical being

They are all old fucks

There are plenty more demon sorcerers, but these eight/nine are all those that were ever mentioned

All want to rule the world

Everyone, aside from Shendu, actually somewhat care about each other and agree to rule the world together. Why is that even though they shouldn’t have “social urges“ because of their biology? We’ll discuss that later

Looking back on the very first episode they were all in together, they are fucking in sync as all Hell! They were finishing each others’ sentences, they knew what each one was thinking. Damn, son, they be tight AF; family goals, amiright?

How to start a Demon Sorcerer meeting: Step 1) Find Po Kong, Step 2) Call everyone else over because it would take too long moving her at all

About the individual demons themselves (Most of this is reworded from the Wiki, but confirmed through watching their episodes):

Hsi Wu

Guerilla tactics for the win

Oddly patient, ya know, for someone so kind of childish

Becomes bored easily, so he has the knack to pick on his siblings and humans, with the latter being in more vicious and cruel ways

Aside from Shendu, Hsi Wu is the most bullied by his siblings (it’s because he’s small, isn’t it??)

Although he hates Shendu like the rest of his siblings, he is more “cold and apathetic“ towards him, with occasionally getting along, albeit extremely slight

High pitched noises hurts his ears

“His wings are sharp enough to cut through concrete“

Playful, although in a sadistic way

Simply flies to get where he needs to be

Likes to pester and make fun of Po Kong specifically

He just. Constantly smiles or has this big wide, toothy grin on his face all the time

*gremlin noises* *cat hisses*

Best/Worst Actor Award goes to...

Tso Lan

Sophisticated and more-or-less monotone sounding, he is always on alert with his senses. Despite this, his reaction timing is awful

Seemingly emotionless, his relaxed demeanor breaks when something doesn’t go his way. He does display some sarcasm, though

According to the wiki, he is very hard to please and never compliments anyone. What a stuck-up asshole

Along with Bai Tza and Xiao Fung, he is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

He apparently is one of the elder siblings

He is one of the most powerful sibling because he can bring the fucking Moon out of fucking orbit like it is nothing

He is Shantae He can control his hair, as well as float and glide gracefully

He can survive in space

He does indeed have legs, for he has been seen walking ONCE and we get to see his boots (Demon World (Part 2))

Shendu (My apologies, but not my regret, about if you are upset with me and my loathing for Shendu)

Selfish asshole who doesn’t like sharing, even with his family

Everybody Hates Shendu and Shendu Hates Everybody, and they all want each other dead, including Drago

Legit, he made a truce with Uncle, the mortal enemy, so he could horribly punish Drago. What a good father, amiright???

Can hold a grudge for, like, ever and hardly ever keep his promises. He also willingly admits he’s a traitorous bastard

Greedy and sophisticated asshole

Like, Jesus Christ, I wanted to give Shendu some slack because I did not want myself to be blinded by hatred for the guy, but my God is he the worst

“Shendu is not only devoid of compassion and sympathy for mortals, but also cares little to nothing for his family-members - this is displayed most markedly by how he left his siblings to rot in the Netherworld so he could rule the Earth himself.“

“Father and son's relationship was so toxic that Shendu even declared when Drago was being sucked into an interdimensional rift that his son deserved no less than to be trapped on the other side for his disloyalty.“

“Despite this, in response to Drago's apology and profuse pleading, Shendu visibly contemplated for a moment and hesitantly decided to try saving Drago from his fate (with a warning that his son must remember he is second to Shendu while they're on Earth), suggesting Shendu might genuinely care about his son to some extent (or at the very least, as close to caring about another being as Shendu is capable of).“ Um, not sure if I agree on the “genuinely care“ part, but totes on board with the “just wants him for a playing chip“ thought

Although he may be one of the most powerful demons of the family, that does not stop his siblings from actively going against him, which surprisingly makes Shendu submissive to them. Hmm...

He legit cares about no one but himself and that is no overstatement. I’m sorry to all those fangirls out there :V

Once ruled all of China

Shendu gets all whiny and high pitched, often stuttering, when expressing fear (which is every single time he gets a family reunion, which reminds me...)

He can be such a cheeky charmer

Although Shendu only cares about himself, he does seem pretty observant with recognizing what others do want, and of course uses that to his advantage. Hm, observant guy; no wonder he has fangirls

Tchang Zu

Not that talkative, even during fights, and rather only speaks when he feels the need to. However, when he does speak, it is rather loud and/or commanding

Hates when he isn’t respected, especially out of fear. He hates it so much he verbally explodes with anger when something personal to him is disrespected

Is willing to get down and dirty when reaching his (and his siblings’) goals

Is most likely the most colorful with his wording and admiring architecture

Really only attacks those he deems worthy (apparently there was a crowd of humans he only bothered scaring away and not attacking, even though they only saw him as entertainment?)

Become Goku Flies on a cloud to get where he needs to be

Oh my God he sits criss-cross-applesauce

Dai Gui

A little under average intelligence, but his brutality and strength make up for it, being an absolute bulldozer with anything that stands in his way

I must reinforce the “a little under average“ part because he does use the word “ludicrous,“ which is no caveman word

Violent and macabre imagery is his verbal forte

A big bully, since he loves throwing his authority around to those under him

Similar to Tchang Zu, Dai Gui is also willing to do dirty work, but mainly for himself than for others

Absolutely LOATHES “pretty“ things, like flowers

Sometimes talks in third person

Seems to prefer using his raw strength than his magical powers

Laughs at his own jokes

Persistent and dedicated. Nice!

Po Kong

Hungry Hungry Hippo; food is always on the mind, I wouldn’t be surprised if her want to rule the world was second on her list

Although she can and would eat anything, she is still picky

Her favorite flavor is human and salt

She knows French (ah yes, one of the “Love Languages”)

She snores

Po Kong likes to torment Hsi Wu

She can walk on her own

Favorite food: Human

Bai Tza

Hates Shendu the most

Most outspoken and dominating out of all the demons (”verged on superiority complex”)

Tends to deal with situations more realistically, as well as learning from past mistakes

Despite her intelligence, her hubris still gets the best of her

Along with Tso Lan and Xiao Fung, she is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

Apparently didn’t have humans living in her palace, which was Atlantis

Can levitate

Bunch of banshee screeches. Yeesh

Xiao Fung

Talkative and slimey diplomat that prefers debating with his siblings rather than arguing and fighting

Enjoys fights to the death between his underlings

Has an interest in drama and being a part of it

Seems to be the most cooperative and decent when working with humans. Cool!

Absolutely despises the Netherworld so much that a human prison is “paradise“ to him

Along with Bai Tza and Tso Lan, he is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

Need to get somewhere? No problem, just jettison your way with wind bellows from your lungs through your mouth

Although he does care for his siblings, it’s apparently not enough to “carry the burden“ of freeing them. Maybe it’s out of pure laziness? He does seem against doing active things (other than blowing wind, which only he can do)

Headcanon Stuff

Why do the Demon Sorcerers (besides Shendu) actually care for one another and agree to share the Earth between each other? I did say they do not possess the inherent-to-parent instinct, but I never said they were not social animals. The demons may not have the need to reproduce or want sexual anything, but they do posses the need/want to have company, which is kind of supported by the fact that canonically and in real life, Chinese demons mainly want to be praised and treated like gods. One cannot be considered a god, nor be praised in general, if one does not have beings beneath or beside them for confirmation

So, in a way, you could say they all desire some sort of reassurance of their importance.

Their relationship with humans is understandable, given from with what I just said, but the relationship between one another is a little more... deep? They obviously consider each other legit family, so they do care about one another (with some rough-play rivalry), but I think it’s less on the biological factor and more of the “fitting in“ factor.

Here’s my theory: Yes they are biologically family, but they did not view each other as such originally. After a while of being with one another, experiencing similarities, they became family-close in the metaphorical sense (in addition to the literal sense). This would explain how Shendu could have lost touch with them intimately while the others did not with each other, all the while still considering each other as family.

So, despite my whole push on the demons having little compassion, they do still harbor it; expressing it through family feelings. However, just like humans, there are always those who posses less compassion than the average person, and that would be Shendu. Shendu is the psychopath of the family-- the Black Sheep, if you will

In addition, theoretically, for all those fangirls and guys out there, they could love you like a precious pet. Just sayin’ (so, like, imagine the Demon Sorcerers having human pets and treating them like we do our own “Look how much of a chonkster my human is!” “Oh yeah? Well mine started getting ready for winter early; look at this massive boy-o!” I call my cats “stupid, stinky babies who I love” and then proceed to cuddle them all the time :V)

Fuck it, they have family movie/theatre nights because I find it endearing even though it may be Out of Character

To begin this next section, I want to state that the Demon Sorcerers are based on The Bagua. However, it is merely their elements that are the inspiration, not anything with the philosophy behind Bagua. However however, I will be looking into it and seeing what the Bagua has that still can reflect on the sorcerers. In other words, instead of basing the demons on the Bagua, I’ll be “basing“ the Bagua on the demons, if that makes sense.

Smol

Hsi Wu’s kingdom was probably located on the eastern coast of the USA

Judging by that teacher’s transformation with some of his chi, he may have “avian tendencies” with flying south for the winter and building nest-like structures

Probably the most convincing one to “befriend“ a human. Not because of his past friendship with Jade, but because people could relate to him of being picked on from size and lack of abilities, in addition to being more approachable because of his size and playfulness

His demeanor is mostly childlike, especially with how cruel children can be

Probably dislikes orchestral music, especially violins, flutes, the triangle, etc

Would most likely become a memester. Maybe.

“How do ya do, fellow kids?“

Likes to listen to music/singing while doing things and stuff. So, maybe he has to be distracted to some degree to be content, or he will be grumpy? (AD(H)D)

Real Talk: At one point in Tale of the Demon Tail (where Jade “befriends” Hsi Wu, or really his persona), Hsi Wu’s persona of being Jade’s friend actually disintegrates. Meaning, that “mask“ he put on to befriend Jade, at one point dissolved into an actual aspect of himself. So, when he answered Jade’s question of ‘are you going to the dance‘ or whatever, his initial response was that of an actual human-child Hsi Wu friend. While yes he was still acting, his initial response was almost unconscious, and then he realized what he was saying and said the other thing. I mean, it could have easily been “Nah, that’s stupid-- oh wait, that’s a good idea to get inside the house, actually,“ but that still follows the unconscious response action. What am I getting at here? Well, the interaction the two had proves that a clump of Hsi Wu’s personality does click with Jade. I’m not saying “I ship it“ or anything, what I’m saying is their personalities attract one another in general and could work between two different characters. As much as they seem to get along, there are other characteristics the two have that oppose one another and definitely shatters that friendship. So, Jade and Hsi Wu Being Friends? No; Some Personality Traits They Have Connect to One Another in General and Could Work Between? Yes.

The ye olde game of Chase is probably his favorite. Ya know, the game where you chase people around? Yeah, any game where he gets to chase/hunt his pray would be his favorite

Very similar to Shendu, Hsi Wu is one of the craftier folk of the family. However, unlike Shendu, creativity is his primary weapon which is, of course, used to make up for his size.

Similar to Xiao Fung, Hsi Wu is also one of the siblings that listens and pays attention the most. Their difference being is the information he learns is more for his selfish advantage than a “getting along” way.

Despite his dishonesty towards Jade, he is the most integral to himself. What I mean is, while yes all the demons follow their demon ethos, I believe Hsi Wu is the most true to himself and wouldn’t back down or reject something he is honestly interested in. However, probably because he knows how others know him, he can use this integrity to fool others into believing him with ease.

Hsi Wu is also probably the most inclined to have faith in others, but this DOES NOT mean he easily trusts people. What I’m saying is he may not easily trust others, but when he does, that faith in them is near unwavering

“The Beauty of Mischief”

“Lord High Lord of the Sky,” or “Lord High Lord of Firmament”

Vamps

Tso Lan’s “kingdom“ was probably located on the Moon

Like all sophisticated assholes, he probably enjoys reading, but only books that deal with the fall of humanity and apocalypse stuff. Maybe even some space stuff, like the movie Interstellar? (Star Wars can kiss his ass, though)

Can posses dark matter? Because of his dark magic bolts and his affinity with gravity?

Doesn’t like being around people. His siblings are fine, but he rather not have company, judging by how he most likely spends his time on the Moon and rarely visits Earth. Antisocial personality disorder much??

Like we have stated earlier, Tso Lan never gives out compliments, for he is oh so difficult to please. He watches intently and is careful with his neutral wording, always sounding cold and cruel. However, despite his emotionless disposition, he does have some ugly colors. For example, he does get angry, especially when he is interrupted. Example two, he does take pleasure in tormenting his enemies. However, the good color of natural tranquility explains his seemingly “lack of emotion.”

If he can ever “give respect” to anyone, it’s probably so difficult to achieve it should be considered impossible. But hey, if you do somehow get his compliments, consider yourself special, home slice! In addition, it’s probably also highly unlikely to get him to laugh. Like, not even a chuckle. Maybe a sarcastic and flat “Ha,“ but nothing too intense.

He may not think of himself as king or an emperor, but he does view himself as some sort of higher metaphysical power, like a pontiff. In addition, he probably sees his position being the highest because of his throne on the Moon and his power over gravity (and maybe dark matter). Being used to this placement, he has distanced himself from just about every living thing, being untainted with normal, petty desires. Oh but being a demon has its drawbacks, for wanting is in the blood. Meaning, there are most likely some things out there that he may desire (Fanfic Writers, assemble!)

You want him him to talk dirty to you? Why yes, you should keep good hygiene and not be smelly. Real Talk, though, because of his lack of emotion words, he probably would have difficulty conveying emotion verbally. But hey, his voice and tones are enough to get anyone aroused :V

Might secretly like dancing, but only simple ones. Like, The Waltz would be the most active he’d like

Might also hum tunes every so often. Despite that, he still prefers silence over noise of any kind.

“The Beauty of Isolation”

“Lord High Lord of the Moon,” or “Lord High Lord of Satellites”

Shit Dad

Probably studies magic the most and has a huge library filled to the brim with spell books and whatnot

Drago may be on his mind a lot, but probably not for any positive reason

Probably had Drago made for that thing in Taoism where two beings can connect one another metaphysically, and if one is in trouble (like they died or something), the other can help out (and resurrect if need be). Or, he wanted someone that wasn’t human on his side because he’s sure as Hell his siblings won’t side with him

While Drago is way more hotheaded than his Dad, it seems Shendu is more likely to let a petty grudge get in the way of his goals

Shendu hates family reunions

Dude’s a mad scientist

Probably regrets having Drago

Oh God, oh fuq, it’s the Big Bad Dragon that wants everything for himself. He must know what his name translates to because oh boy does he feel entitled to his mighty sovereignty. Like, he lusts for power so much that no amount of trickery could mask his clarity of greed, ya know, like a “true” dragon. What he wants, he will obtain, with let nothing obstruct his path… other than a petty grudge. He’s so full of passion and thermal rage he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst his brethren. He would even sink to deep lows to get what he desires, even if it is heavily depending on humans, lying, cheating, and stealing from his own family, doing forbidden things with humans to have a “son” he only wants to use as a playing piece, and even bend reality to his liking.

However, I must say it is impressive and admirable how adaptive he is with every situation he finds himself in. He is rather courageous and would try anything to reach his goal, even if it is siding with the enemy. Shendu speaks in sophistication and eloquence, to which the latter trait he shares with Xiang Zu, despite his childlike outbursts of rage.

He may not be the most elementally powerful sibling, but he is The Best with knowledge about other magics like spells and potions.

He does perform the stereotype of “dragons are beasts of greed” exceptionally well, which, I can admit, is pretty hot, being a monster lover myself

Something I’ve noticed with his face is that he lacks lips, which are replaced with external tooth-like structures. This actually forces the creators to make him expressive through other means, like his eyes. So, he’s expressive, and he fits the draconic poem I read in a book somewhere “Beware the glint in a dragons’ eye/ It is cold as ice to the liar/ It is sharp as a knife to the knave/ It is hard as iron to the greedy/ It is a burning flame to the brave.”

“The Beauty of Wrath”

“Lord High Lord of Fire,” or “Lord High Lord of The Thermal”

Sparky

Tchang Zu’s kingdom was probably located on the western coast of the USA

Would request for extravagant buildings and structures, as well as being a big fan of theatre (Beowulf, anyone?)

I can imagine him having a deep, boisterous laugh that is an award to trigger

Probably the best war strategist, everyone would hate playing Axis and Allies with him (He’d either play Russia for the size, or Germany because, well, you know)

(I’m just repeating what I’ve already stated, but whatever.) Similar to Tso Lan, Tchang Zu is careful with his words. However, what the latter does is speak only when he deems it appropriate, and sometimes with eloquence. When he does share his thoughts, it is in an assertive tone, making everyone stop and listen.

Tchang Zu is rarely ever caught off guard and surely plants himself where he stands, literally and figuratively. Despite his assertiveness, he does not come off as one of the most “authoritative” figures of the family. Instead, he’s more of an overseer and commander, making sure everything is falling in line under his, and his siblings’, iron-fist.

He is one of the few that would take the initiative when confronting a problem, which must be pretty terrifying for the opposition, seeing as how intimidating he is. Oof. Although he is on the shorter side, it does not bother him, for he knows his power is just as great as his siblings’.

Unlike his siblings, he wouldn’t be one of the “crafty” folk. What I mean is he isn’t a trickstery cuck like Hsi Wu and Shendu, but actually follows demon code and honor. I mean, not that “demon honor” is anything greater or equal to “human honor,” but the point still stands. What is “Demon Code and Honor” you ask? I dunno, watch Jackie Chan Adventures and observe demon culture yourself.

His demeanor may be slow and steady, but when he fights and flashes lightning, so much power and energy erupts from within. Majestic

Knows how to use semicolons properly

“The Beauty of Imperiality”

“Lord High Lord of Thunder,” or “Lord High Lord of Electricity”

Dai Guinguini

Dai Gui’s Kingdom was probably located on the western coast of Europe, maybe more specifically Spain

Let’s take that “hates pretty things“ even further beyond. The words “delicate and innocent“ usually come to mind when the words “pretty“ and “flower“ are shown. So, I headcanon he hates weak and fragile looking things, as well as cute. The more petite and dainty something looks, the more of an urge to destroy rises up

Probably needs to hold down a vomit when seeing romance in any medium (lava vomit?)

Also probably iffy on crystals and gems. Like, they are shiny and pretty and are sometimes delicate, but man, the massive structures these things can form into is crazy.

Dai Gui reminds me of the colossi in Shadow of the Colossus when viewed just wandering around. We know he acts like a brute and hates petite things, and is quite aggressive when he fights, but there’s something about him that makes me think of some majestic creature that likes to walk around all alone in a wide open space. There is some beauty to his “monstrosity” and I feel like that’s overlooked by him always being described as, well, a brute.

Although not as intense as Shendu’s, rage can also be a common sight with Dai Gui, but it’s mostly from his non preferred environments. Also, similar to Tchang Zu, Dai Gui appreciates his structural surroundings, but has a more keen interest in its earthly variety. Mountains, canyons, plains, plateaus, mesas, volcanos, deserts, etc. would be his ideal territory. Like I have mentioned before, I feel like he’d often roam around his landscape, constantly fixing and changing anything he desired.

Even though he doesn’t like flowers and such, I do not think he hates nature in general. Maybe most of it, but not all. He may like huge ass trees for their size and might, grasslands (like savannas) because, although grass is all over, it still gives a vast emptiness of calmness, which deserts give a vast emptiness of despair.

Quick note, I’m not saying he’s artistic and elegant. What I am saying he isn’t just a dumb idiot caveman that just lusts for destruction, but rather actually has a hobby of shaping the earth. Yes, he might find the terrestrial variety of the earth interesting, but he isn’t all, like, “Hmm yes, insert fancy art words here;” he’s more like “Hm yes, me like; I shall do more over there” and then just… does it without any pre planning or anything.

Not only does he like creating earthly structures, but also destroying them. Have you ever built something so cool (or have just seen something so cool) with Legos or whatever, and for some reason want to destroy it just because ‘ha ha destruction fun’? Yeah, that’s him sometimes.

I’d also like to add he likes bugs. Not only eating them, but also admiring their earth shaping tendencies. Their structures won’t stop him from eating them all, but he does like to see what they make before the big snack

I bet he likes to sunbathe sometimes. Mmmmm, warm rocks always feel good. Cool rocks, too! (This also made me think of belly rubs… hmm)

“The Beauty of Incessance”

“Lord High Lord of Earth,” or “Lord High Lord of Formation“

Mount Vesuvius

Po Kong’s kingdom was probably located in Japan, and/or Japan itself

Most likely the one to zone out on meetings with just thoughts on food (ADD maybe?)

Although she’d eat anything, Po Kong probably appreciates and remembers excellent meals. In addition, she probably could describe in detail of various tastes

Or, alternatively, since she eats so much all the food just blends together

Apparently, humans taste like chicken. So maybe, genetically create giant ass chickens, like in Skyrim, and feed her that if humans become scarce and/or too small for satisfaction

Probably the most difficult demon to satisfy, but not just because of hefty demands, but because she is practically the personification of gluttony. Like, I’m sure she can and will eat anything she wants, even inorganic things. She likes it? Nom. She hates it? Nom. She will never be fulfilled until she has consumed all… or until she explodes or whatever. I’m being dramatic.

Luckily, she is not picky. Unluckily, she is also picky. I guess it just depends on her hunger mood. One day, she may want just a bunch of salty snacks, likes chips and fries, and on another day she may want a giant bundt cake filled with gooey human flesh and blood.

Legit though, her kingdom/empire would be the number one food place in the entire world, with having the largest kitchen and all the best cooks (ha ha, like a collection. You could say she would have Too Many Cooks, but “too many” doesn’t exist in Po Kong World!). She would have food critics to make sure the meals she really wants to enjoy taste wonderful. Dude, like, imagine Gordon Ramsay and Guy Fieri at her command. She’d laugh her ass off with Ramsay yelling at people and Fieri with all of his antics; they’d be her favorite little humans. Funny, they’d both still be practically doing the job they do now, just being ordered around by a tyrannical demon who also likes food.

Has no interest in video games and picture shows, but does have the interest in the unique food that appears in them and of course demands them to be made for her.

To get on her “good side” is to be absolutely loyal to her and her eating habits. Ya gotta make the best meals, serve them in delightful ways (she actually doesn’t care about any fancy stuff, but appreciates the effort if done right).

I bet she likes getting spoiled. I mean, yeah, all the demons would want gifts rained down upon them, but they wouldn’t express as much glee as Po Kong would. She’d probably sound condescending half the time, but hey, at least she’s happy and smiles. Gotta give her big gifts though. Go big or go home, folks.

Just like us folk, she prefers Maximum Comfort when eating. That means sitting in her favorite chair, eating from her favorite dish, and watching her favorite entertainment pieces.

Ya into vore? She’s your woman *finger guns*

“The Beauty of Indulgence”

“Lord High Lady of the Mountains,” or “Lord High Lady of Beasts“

What do you call a fish without eyes? A Fsh

Bai Tza’s kingdom is factually Atlantis, but in the JCA universe, Atlantis might be close to the southern coast of Europe in the Mediterranean Sea

She’d be the one initially planning family get-togethers

Do I dare say I could imagine her being a dominatrix? Yeah sure

Similar to Tso Lan, she has/had an isolated kingdom away from humanity, but unlike her brother she most likely had subjects, which lived coastal in southern and south-east Europe, Northern Africa, and the Middle-East. Every civilization took a part in building her castle and its decor, but soon after it was complete, she sank it to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea, never to be gazed upon with mortal eyes ever again.

Although she can survive in either, Bai Tza prefers warm and salty waters over cool and fresh waters.

Because of her unique bond with water, which literally has her able to morph to and fro between a liquid and solid state, she probably traveled and oversought numerous locations around the world, with any place being close to warm and salty seas. Did she hold dominion over them? Maybe, seeing as how just the Mediterranean Sea and most of its surrounding land is quite small for a kingdom when compared to her siblings’ territories.

Bai Tza may not be one of the most powerful siblings, but she is the most feared. She’s able to restrain herself when angry, she thinks outside the box when confronting obstacles, and her dynamism makes her tricky to confront. She is straightforward, blunt, and has a wicked and sharp tongue. Like stated before, she is one of the more outspoken relatives, being very dominant in every activity she takes part in. Wouldn’t surprise me if she was a control freak. However, enjoying her power so much leads her to be arrogant, making her hubris the number one weakness.

Bai Tza is probably the most cruel because she actively thinks about the damage she can cause instead of just doing it. Despite her cruelty, she isn’t heartless; she may in fact be the one that cares about her family the most, with having the most hatred for Shendu because of his betrayal to said family. On a side note with Drago, she probably rejects him mostly for his differences than his relation with Shendu, but of course the latter still counts. So, welcoming those into her tight personal circle would be a ‘no.’

Despite her evilness, she can and will compliment things that amuse her, and being super protective of them like personal property.

Would drown ships with anti-demon supporting humans on them, as well as anyone who enters her territory without permission. Probably could be convinced with gifts, but they better be good.

Theoretically could forgive past mistakes, but they must be made up with something equal or greater amount to said mistake.

Likes to wear jewelry, especially gold.

“The Beauty of Absolution“

“Lord High Lady of Water,“ or “Lord High Lady of the Abyss“

Froggy

Xiao Fung’s kingdom was probably located in Latin America

One of the smarter siblings, Xiao Fung prefers to discuss and debate over physically fighting. Not sure why, but maybe because he doesn’t view physical fighting as something “high ups” do; all of the dirty work is for the peasants beneath them. However, if forced and there being no other way, he would partake.

Knows the art of conversation quite well and usually dishes out the best conversations. He may not be eloquent like Tchang Zu, or very particular with his words like Tso Lan, but damn can he keep a conversation going if need be. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d yak with others if he’s bored. Maybe try talking some existential stuff with him; that’d be neat. Or keep asking ‘why’ like an annoying child, and he’d probably be tricked into answering each one, with getting annoyed more and more the longer it all goes on.

Despite his laziness, he still would do activities that require his assistance, as long as it’s something only he can do. If there is someone else available, he’ll leave it to them.

Xiao Fung is probably one of the more “approachable” demons, being how he doesn’t immediately give off “fear and respect me or die” vibes. He’s still intimidating, but to those with any amount of courage could muster up to confront him. Ya know, if it isn’t anything personal to him, then in that case you’d be the one telling everyone how terrifying he is, also, ya know, if he lets you go back to your village.

It wouldn’t surprise me if he had decision making issues when it comes to something he likes vs something useful/”right”

If a human went up to him and made a deal, he most likely would take it as long as he gets something in return that he wants, as well as the odds being in his favor.

Human antics are strange and insignificant, but they are still intriguing to him and would converse about it. Just don’t think you’d make him change his opinion on us; that won’t happen, fo sho.

The most forgiving and patient of the family, although it may not be by much. It most likely stems from his diplomatic character, being willing to discuss situations, even thoughts he leans more against. It’s really the subjects she is 100% not on board with he will not discuss, but something around 70%-60% he’d be more willing to listen to. Whether he actually agrees with you and is not just listening for amusement is another story.

Really enjoys music, favoring well put together orchestral.

Could hold some serious long notes, and probably sing in all sorts of keys (Dude. Singing bass)

Dude probably loves board games like chess.

Tchang Zu and him probably get along well because of shared interests in theatre and strategy games.

Would be the one to bring up topics to get everyone arguing if things got boring, like politics. In addition, he would also bring up playing the “Friendship Ender” games we all know and love, like Uno and Monopoly.

While Hsi Wu carries the “shit eating smile,” Xiao Fung has the “smug cat” face.

“The Beauty of Disruption“

“Lord High Lord of Wind,“ or “Lord High Lord of Currents“

Bonus Factoids Upon my Research

Theoretically, because it is stated that the Twelves Talismans are physical manifestations/vessels of Shendu’s powers, the other eight sorcerers (this includes Drago) could have their own Twelves Talismans

Apparently, killing/destroying a demon causes the disruption of balance within the universe, causing a “stronger evil“ to manifest and fill that “wound.“ So, again, theoretically, could a “stronger good“ happen as well if a situation summons/calls for it??

Sadly, according to Shendu, the all chi-absorption thing Drago did at the end of Season 5 is irreversible. So, canonically, Drago is technically forever stuck as a Cthulhu abomination. I am forever sad. Like, yeah I’m a terato lover, but I really prefer Drago as normal :’( However, Shendu answered to a human using a man-made chi spell. What if the actual Demon Sorcerers did a chi spell, to which apparently is conductible without external means? Could they be powerful enough to reverse it if all of them worked together???

[Chinese and English Name/Japanese Name- Chinese Translation/Japanese Translation]

Hsi Wu/Tokage- Evil Lizard/Small Lizard

Tso Lan/Kyuketsuki- Flood maker/ Vampire

Shendu/Kiryu- God of All (oof)/Spirit Dragon

Tchang Zu/Oni- Soldier of Madness/Ogre

Dai Gui/Shishi- Great Ogre/Stone Lion

Po Kong/Daikaiju- Feared Cliff/Giant Monster

Bai Tza/Nisei- Force of Defeat/Second Generation

Xiao Fung/Keroro- Little Wind/Frog

Early Christmas gift to y’all :V

God I hope this is good enough. I’ve been spending all my free time working on these guys just to get the original ask done. Don’t get me wrong, I did like doing this and forming at least some kind of unique character with each, but I am so exhausted from how long I’ve been working on it. It’s mainly my fault for being such a try hard, so don’t blame yourself, Anon who asked for this; you all good, bruv.

#jackie chan adventures #jca #eight demon sorcerers #demons #hsi wu #tso lan #shendu #tchang zu #dai gui #po kong #bai tza #xiao fung #canon #headcanons #oh my god this was a lot of work #and dedication

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atinybitofau · 5 years ago

Text

Y E O S A N G ⇎ the breakup

THE ONE WHERE YOU TWO BREAK UP CAUSE OF THE BOYS.

a/n: yo this could be in a lot of my au’s lmao. unedited too cause I’m lazy sorreh.

• “You’re a mental bitch!”

• “And you’re delusional dickhead!”

• “I’m delusional? Me?! When I broke up with you, I think it was more on the lines of you being delusional rather me.”

• “God, Yeosang I could just—“

• you two are pulled apart.

• by none other than Hongjoong.

• for arguing yet again after two months of successfully avoiding each other.

• but the annual secret santa was obviously something that you two can’t avoid.

• had to see each other for the sake of the circle.

• “Can you two for once. For once not try and kill each other? Please?”

• Hongjoong has had enough.

• knowing yes, it may be partly his fault.

• partly the circle’s.

• for pulling you both apart.

• the circle is more than just a single person, yes.

• their fault too for breaking you two up.

• for telling you, Yeosang was exclusively meeting with his boss— a beautiful woman.

• and for telling him, you were exclusively texting your ex again— a man you loved.

• the both of you were delusional, yes.

• but so was everyone else in the room.

• because they still weren’t able to see through the endless arguments and empty threats,

• that you two were still very much in love with each other.

• despite the illusion.

• “Give me my goddamn secret santa recipient so I can just leave.” you mumble eyes sterned away. “I can’t stand being here anymore.”

• he scoffs. “Make that two of us.”

• finally something you two can agree with.

• you take your slip of paper, hug Hongjoong, bid the boys goodbye.

• not forgetting, of course, to flip off your ex Yeosang on the way out.

• you think, why was he so abrasive?

• why was it always your fault?

• he’ll always blame you for the break up.

• you don’t know why.

• when technically he was the one seeing another woman behind your back.

• when he claimed you’ve been texting your ex.

• which actually looked something like this,

• ‘You think Yeosang will like his anniversary gift?’

• ‘I don’t see why not. I always liked the things you gave me. being your boyfriend surely would be enough’

• ‘thanks.’

• that was it.

• so yes; you were texting your ex boyfriend for advice while dating Yeosang.

• was that so bad?

• but yeosang see’s it differently.

• see’s it as a way you wanted out of the relationship.

• that texting your ex behind his back was despicable.

• yet he didn’t know seeing his manager for business meetings were a bad thing.

• it was meaningless topics anyway!

• that looked a little like this,

• ‘So you promise to complete the report by next week?’

• ‘Sure thing.’

• that was it.

• so yes; he was seeing his boss behind your back because he didn’t think it was sneaking around.

• didn’t feel the need to tell you?

• because it was work.

• his relationship with you was far from that—

• work.

• it was his luxury being with you.

• but apparently now it was a sin.

• “Hongjoong, I’m not getting him a gift.” you storm into the room, not even caring Hongjoong’s fist was almost half way down a crying San’s mouth. “Switch with me.”

• “Um.. a little busy here.”

• you remove Hongjoong from a whiny San.

• immediately taking the fish bone out of the whiny boy’s throat like a scene from a medical show.

• San crying in joy.

• and now you’re glaring at your circle’s designated leader.

• Hongjoong no doubt unsurprised by your visit after your secret santa recipient pull.

• “Okay now you’re not busy anymore. So give me someone else.”

• Hongjoong sighs. “I told Yeosang no. And I will tell you the same thing.”

• “He got me too!? Oh my fucking god, he’s going to buy me the worst thing to ever exist. How could you ruin Christmas for me, Joong? I thought we were friends.”

• “We are.” he raises and eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “Which is why as your friend, I’m going to fix whatever broken relationship you have with him even if it kills the both of you. Even if I ruin everyone’s christmas. I’m willing to take the fault this year too.”

• “Joong!” you whine in retaliation.

• “No. Don’t Joong me. I’ve had it with you two. And you will buy him the greatest gift you could ever think of, without your past ex’s help this time, or so help me god I will never speak to the both of you again.”

• Hongjoong was a conniving thing.

• the reason why he lead your squad.

• had the feel for things and what to do.

• so here you are back at square one.

• wondering what you could possibly get Yeosang that he’d love.

• the gift, you think.

• the one you were supposed to give him but failed to do when he broke up with you.

• you’re holding it at the party.

• thinking he’s going to hate it.

• even if he would’ve never broken up with you.

• even if you were able to give him this when intended.

• he’ll hate it just like he hates you.

• “Merry Christmas, nerds.” Mingi announced sporting his lovely santa costume for the night. “It’s secret santa time!”

• you don’t look at Yeosang at all.

• hoping this night would be rudely interrupted with a natural disaster.

• however he’s looking at you.

• hoping you’d snap out of the trance he accidentally put you in.

• looking if you’d look pretty wearing the gift he bought you.

• wondering if..

• if it’s enough.

• now the gifts are dispersed.

• San happy to be getting a new plushie.

• Seonghwa excited about his new vacuum.

• Joong ecstatic over a new art set.

• and the rest.. the rest ready to return their gifts.

• last but not least, it was you two.

• the moment everyone had been waiting for.

• the Christmas miracle or the Christmas disaster.

• a Christmas definitely for the history books.

• and you decide to start.

• shakily holding the small box towards Yeosang.

• he stares at your hands.

• not because he’s avoiding your eyes (maybe)

• but because he’s wondering if it’ll fit.

• his gift.

• then he’s interrupted by yours.

• “H-here. If you don’t like it, the receipt’s in the bag.”

• Yeosang gulps.

• decides not to open it actually.

• hands you his first.

• “This one, mine.. I didn’t get a gift receipt. Sorry.”

• you look up for the first time.

• eyes locked in pure infatuation.

• because you forget for a moment that you used to love this man.

• would do anything for him.

• you forgot how beautiful his eyes were when he wasn’t pining on killing you.

• “S-should I open it?”

• your voice is like waves of the ocean.

• crisp and calm.

• something he used to love to hear first thing in the morning, the last thing before he falls asleep.

• he wants to hear it like that more.

• forgot what you sounded like when you weren’t pining on killing him.

• “Yeah. You should open it.”

• the boys share a glance and think,

• maybe they’ve done it.

• they’ve cracked the illusion.

• that they were delusional for not realizing how easy it was,

• it was to get you back together.

• when you were both obviously still completely in love with each other.

• “Yeosang?”

• it’s a little slow for you tho.

• not knowing why he got you the same gift.

• “Did you follow me?”

• “W-What? N-no! I had that since. Since before we broke up. Had it to give to you for the anniversary.”

• “You idiot.”

• the smile you play,

• him stuck in the game.

• confused a little, he has to admit.

• until he opens your box given to him for christmas.

• realizing it was the exact same.

• the same thing he got you.

• “You.. but I never..”

• “Yeosang, I was supposed to give that to you before we broke up. For our anniversary. I swear I didn’t—“

• he stops you with a kiss.

• bracelet hanging off his fingertips.

• the boys squealing in the background.

• and you’re gone.

• in temptation and loss.

• because how could you be stupid enough to forget?

• forget how much you two really loved each other.

• “Don’t care.” he chuckles hoarsely against you. “Don’t care if you did do it on purpose. Did it on accident. A gift from you... A gift from you is the best gift a man could ever ask for— the best I could ever ask for.”

• you don’t know if he’s quoting the text you two broke up from.

• don’t care.

• God no, you don’t care.

• only care about him right now.

• “Being with you is the only gift I’ll ever ask for.” you murmur back. “The only gift you could give me that’d be the best.”

• “AWWW COME ON YOU TWO KISS SOME MORE!”

• you both think,

• you’ll have to thank them one day.

• the circle you two were in may have been in fault.

• but you were so glad they were the one’s that were.

• or if it weren’t for them,

• you two wouldn’t be standing here not wanting to kill each other right now.

• a fault that was definitely made up.

@atinybitofau

#yeosang #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez #ateez preferences #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #yeosang imagines #yeosang oneshot #yeosang reaction #enemies to lovers #breakup #ateez imagines #yeosang scenarios

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archadianskies · 4 years ago

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pas de deux

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Friday Day 5: Longing • Mirrors; post-revolution North/Chloe

Individuality is a new concept to deviants, and something North’s embraced. It’s different, though, when one seeks to stand out when one exists in multitudes versus someone who’s always been an individual; there are a thousand WR400s with her faceplate in Michigan alone and there is, and always will be, just one RT600. Chloe is the first, the last, the only, and North can’t go more than an hour without seeing someone with her exact same face.

During the revolution North had started to change her hair, adding more and more red to it so it was a vibrant strawberry blonde. It’s something she has control over, that and her makeup though she leaves those settings alone.

Chloe is a custom Carl Manfred model, sculpted and painted laboriously as a one off in a way that can’t be printed en masse like the rest of them. Mass production hadn’t even been an option back then, of course, given she had been Kamski’s foray into the unknown.

Meeting Kamski had been a forgettable affair and she holds no high regard for the creator of their kind, though begrudgingly there’s some respect owed given he wasn’t responsible for the WR400s and HR400s and thus can’t be blamed for life of suffering inflicted on her and her siblings. And Chloe loves him. North’s not sure why but if Chloe sees something in that disaster of a human then he certainly can’t be too bad.

Meeting Chloe had been something else entirely, and North’s glad for her ability to record and store perfect memory. Not that Chloe could ever be forgettable, but she’s grateful for the ability all the same. For the sake of diplomacy, Markus had requested they meet at the town hall and when Chloe walked in, everyone else became irrelevant.

It’s not that North’s never seen her face before, since there exists WR400 sisters with her same face, but it was the way she held herself, the way she exuded power unseen by the humans but felt by every android in the vicinity. Back during the demonstration when Markus had beckoned to their brethren, North had been in awe of such an ability but it paled in comparison to the way that petite android commanded the world around her.

“It’s an honour to meet you,” Chloe had smiled graciously and North had blinked incredulously.

“ Me ?” She’d echoed in disbelief. “You’re the First of us, why would meeting me be an honour?”

“Because you are the fire of the revolution, North,” Chloe quipped with a soft giggle, squeezing North’s hands. “You inspire our people to fight against inequality and injustice.”

She had something lovely to say to all four of them, and North could forgive a bit of flattery towards Markus, but to the rest of them? The three of them? She wasn’t so sure there existed anything one couldn’t chalk up to sheer luck and good timing; for all her bravado, for all of Josh’s sage advice, for all of Simon’s caution, they’d really just stumbled on after Markus and tried their best not to get anyone killed. That didn’t sound worthy of honour, and certainly not bestowed by Chloe RT600 herself.

“Are you going to ask her to Markus’ gallery opening?” Simon asks in the taxi, a warm soft presence against her side. Kamski is hosting a super secret meeting at his villain lair and while she holds no love for the man, his villa is a fortress when it comes to information security. It’s a black spot for CyberLife as they squabble to find footing in a post-revolution landscape now that androids have been granted the status of living, sentient beings.

“Don’t be stupid Simon, why would I ever do that?” North snaps and Simon shrugs nonchalantly.

“Because you like her, and she likes you,” the PL600 points out, and North rolls her eyes.

“She’s just being nice, because she’s a nice person,” huffing, she slumps in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Simon prods. “That she’ll say no? She’d even do that graciously I’m sure.”

“She could wipe me out of existence in a single blink,” she drawls, and Simon sputters a laugh. “I’m serious! You were there at that board meeting! She totally just wiped that shady programmer’s entire online life off the face of the earth!”

“She put it back,” Simon frowns. “I think?”

“Anyway you can’t talk, don’t think I haven’t noticed you making eyes at Terminator Mr Darcy.”

“That’s not nice,” Simon says sternly and North concedes with huff.

“Okay, yeah, that wasn't. But I’m still right.”

Simon stays quiet for a few moments, expression softening. “I just can’t quite believe I have the time for…” He makes a vague gesture, and oh North absolutely gets it.

“To not be in survival mode. To have the luxury of stupid crushes on people way out of our league.”

“Yeah,” he laughs and it’s such a nice sound. He never laughed in Jericho, not even once.

“I’ll ask her out if you do,” she elbows him and he groans.

“That’s not fair!”

“It’s totally fair!”

He presses his mouth into a tight line before sighing. “Alright, deal.”

The villa really does look like a supervillain lair, though Spring has done much to soften the stark palette. The taxi pulls up and they clamber out and North wishes for the umpteenth time that she had a sense of smell. Back during her Eden days it had been a blessing not to have a sense of smell or taste, but as she watches Simon pause and inhale deeply, no doubt filling his sensors with the scent of flowers, North yearns for the ability to do the same.

They’re early, too early for Markus and Josh to have arrived yet and North is about to suggest hanging around outside before subjecting themselves to human company but the door opens.

“Good morning North, good morning Simon,” PL400 Peter greets them with a gentle smile. “Mr Kamski is having his breakfast but you may wait inside. There are light refreshments prepared in the lounge.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Simon says cordially and nods as he enters the villa. “Is Ms Chloe free?” Oh the little shit earns a jab in the ribs for that one.

“She is in the ballet studio with Ronan for a private ballet class,” Peter gestures and Simon’s cheeky somewhat grimace morphs into surprise.

“Ronan?”

“Yes, the RK900 dances with her here sometimes,” the PL400 explains, leading them down a long hallway. “You are welcome to watch, she will not mind.”

“We’d love to,” North answers because she has to get Simon back somehow for the earlier mischief. Even if her revenge is via a double-edged sword.

It’s not unknown to her, Chloe’s love of ballet- Carl Manfred had stated he’d carved her proportions based on a ballerina, and she’d spent much of her early phase absorbing movement via ballet videos.

It’s a different thing entirely, to watch her dance. She moves with such easy grace, effortlessly elegant and yet powerful at the same time. The RK900 is a fine partner, all calculated strength and cold regality. It’s one thing to tease each other about harmless crushes from afar, and another thing entirely to be so close and full of longing.

“Mind your timing, Chloe, you have to ease into it, you’re not giving yourself enough time to prepare,” the hologram of the ballet mistress commands, because of course Chloe’s ballet studio has mounted cameras and holographic capabilities. “Ronan you’re adjusting your stance too often, I want your footing to be neater. Again, please.” She claps her hand and Chloe blinks, soft piano music filling the air as they repeat the segment. Chloe catches her gaze briefly, smile brightening.

“Ask her, and I’ll ask him,” Simon bumps his shoulder to hers. “I promise.”

North thinks back on last November, on how everything changed so quickly with barely any time to process the violence, the trauma. She compares her life before, and after the 1st of December when the law recognised what they’d known all along- that they are alive, and they deserve to be free.

She’s different in some ways, and the same in many; it’s normal to long for change, but one constant in her life, one unwavering trait she’s proud of is that she never settles for the theoretical, the what-ifs, the maybes. If she wants something, she’ll fight for it; what use is longing without action?

The piano music ends and the teacher is pleased, clapping twice in praise and Chloe giggles happily as she bows in parting. The hologram fades and she reaches for North’s hands in greeting.

“Hello North, it’s so lovely to see you,” she’s beautiful and radiant like a goddess, and it’s all North can do to not buckle at the knees. She’s not one to back down from a challenge, but she thinks maybe standing defiantly against soldiers aiming rifles at them like a firing squad was easier than this.

“Would you like to go to Markus' fancy art party with me?” There, she asked. Chloe gasps in delight, squeezing her hands as she beams.

“I’d love to.”

*~*

It takes her a whole day to process Chloe’s acceptance, and also remember it had been part of a bargain she’d bullied Simon into agreeing to. The PL600 is sorting books Josh had left strewn on the meeting table when North wanders over.

“So. Did you ask him?” She demands, hands on her hips. He looks up like a deer in headlights, slowly taking a step back. “ No ?!”

“No, but-!” He bares his palms as if fending off an impending attack. Rightfully so. “I didn’t have to,” a shy, somewhat sheepish green. “He’d already asked me last week.”

There’s a pause and Simon bites his lip, taking another step back.

“I’m going to kill you,” she says evenly.

“Um-”

“SIMON!”

“Okay love you bye!” The blond tries to dart out of the room but North tackles him down and attacks him with her fingers, wriggling them into his sides. “Noooo!”

“You conniving bastard!” She shrieks and Simon laughs and laughs helplessly, trying to bat her hands away.

“Mercy! I had to do it! And she said yes!” She stops and flops onto her back beside him. After a moment, Simon scooches closer and rests his head on her shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me, you needed the push.”

“I did,” she admits and there’s no shame in the admission when the outcome far outweighs the discomfort. “Thanks Simon.”

*~*~*

{Chloe and Ronan are [rehearsing Manon].}

#chlorth #chloe rt600 #north wr400 #detroit: become human #dbhrarepairsweek #annie writes: dbh

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spaceskam · 5 years ago

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our fainted thrill carries on (10/13)

warning: sexual themes/content and violence

ao3

Michael could see how shaken up Alex was after he snuck up on him. So much for starting in a good place.

“So, what’s so important?” Alex said, lowering himself onto the bed. Michael didn’t feel welcome there, so he stayed standing and tried to focus on not pacing. It was hard considering his mind was full of all the shit Jesse Manes had told him.

“I had a drink with your dad,” Michael started. Alex had a visceral reaction to that, leaning back and staring up at him in something akin to horror.

“You did what?”

“I wanted to get information for you,” Michael explained, “So I went over there to get him to tell me about M.V.C. and he told me that the Camerons that are still active are dangerous. Like, extremely dangerous.”

“And you believe him?” Alex scoffed. Michael squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to order his thoughts.

“It was so weird, Alex,” Michael said, finding himself pacing despite the attempt to stay still, “He was, like, nice to me? And he almost seemed like he actually gave a shit about you staying safe.”

“Then we know he’s lying,” Alex filled in. Michael shook his head.

“Nah, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t kill me, didn’t even threaten me. Hell, we had whiskey together.”

“Should I call Kyle to come make sure he didn’t poison you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

Alex shook his head. “I can’t believe you even went to him. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Michael didn’t have a good answer to that. Was he trying to get himself killed? That was awfully reckless of him. But, no, he was just doing it for Alex. He needed information for Alex. For them both.

“Look, there’s some information that we just can’t get if we don’t talk to him. And I wanted to get that for you,” Michael tried, shrugging a shoulder. Alex shook his head, rubbing his face and his eyes drifted to the camera monitors. He looked so tired. “Let me just tell you what he said and then you can go to sleep and we can discuss logistics of it all tomorrow.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows at him and rolled his eyes, but he leaned back into the pillows.

“Okay. Tell me.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Alex watched confusion cover Kyle’s face as he looked down at his t-shirt and jeans. He seemed to have missed the memo that they were going to a club. Alex rolled his eyes, leaning back towards the mirror to touch up his eyeliner. He’d tried to keep up with recent makeup trends, but he admittedly had to redo the exaggerated wings multiple times to make them even.

“Clothes?” Kyle said.

“You do know we’re going to a club, right?” Alex asked, looking to make sure it was even enough. Then he broke out the highlighter. “I know you’ve got a pretty face, but you have to at least try.”

“I would wear this to a club,” Kyle said. Cam snorted from the other side of the room where she was trying to pick out her own outfit. She’d brought a couple of different options, trying to decide just how unassuming she wanted to appear.

“This is how we know he’s gotten by on his looks,” Cam noted, shedding herself of the maxi-dress she’d tried on and reaching across to get the floral sundress Alex had suggested. It was effectively unassuming while also being short enough that it wouldn’t cause a problem if she needed to kick someone’s ass.

“Well, what should I wear?” Kyle asked. Alex turned to face him, trying to brainstorm for him.

“How attached are you to the length of that shirt?”

After an extra thirty minutes involving cutting off the sleeves and bottom of Kyle’s shirt, covering his cheekbones in highlighter, and Alex finishing his own look, they decided they were okay. Alex had gone with a loose button-up, leaving it only half-way buttoned and pairing it with tight jeans and messy hair. His goal was to attract attention and he had to triple check to make sure that he’d actually be able to do that looking like he did.

“Okay, wait, why do you get a full shirt?” Kyle asked. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Do you want people buying you drinks or not?” he asked. Kyle stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. “Thought so.”

“Also we need you not be assumed by the straight girls in attendance that you’re open to them,” Cam chimed in, securing half of her freshly curled hair back in a clip.

“But the guys flirting with me are okay?”

“Love the confidence, Valenti.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Alex said, “But you’re less likely to forget what’s going on to flirt back.”

“Like I would forget what was going on,” Kyle scoffed, “My eyes are going to be on you only, Alex.”

“Romantic,” Alex teased, lightly touching his chest as he walked past to give himself one last check in the mirror. Cam reached out to mess up his hair a little more before rubbing her thumb over his slightly over-grown facial hair. “Should I shave?”

“No, you look hot,” she praised, nodding in approval before pushing on Alex’s cheek to make him face Kyle, “Doesn’t he look hot?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Kyle said. Alex huffed a laugh and stepped out of their grasp. “Is your leg good, though? Like, are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex promised, “Took precautious painkillers just like the doctor prescribed.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he was going to seduce Cam’s cousin for information, this still managed to feel like a normal pre-game with his friends that he never really got. It made him feel normal for once. He liked that.

“Show me that picture of Casey again.”

“Okay, wait, back up.”

Alex touched his forehead and sunk a little into his pillows. He looked tired and worn out and in pain and Michael couldn’t help but fidget watching him.

“Are you okay?” he asked before he could hold himself back, “Do you need medicine? I can go get your painkillers if‒”

“No, stop-stop moving. Sit down, I can’t focus when you’re pacing,” Alex instructed. Michael blinked once and then obeyed, sitting at the foot of the bed. He’d just info-dumped, reciting everything Jesse Manes had told him about the history of the Camerons and their involvement in M.V.C. “So, it was created to combat Project Shepard? We were right about that?”

“Yes.”

“But then, what, the Cameron involved was a double agent?”

“Um, not quite?” Michael said, trying to find the right words, “Basically, M.V.C. was run by the youngest son of each family, hence the symbol being three men. It was Eugene Manes III, Manuel Valenti, and Charles Cameron. They believed in change, I guess? I think they wanted to work from the inside and try to help the aliens. But then Charles, like, fell in love with one, but she didn’t return the favor.”

“Your mom?” Alex clarified. Michael shifted uncomfortably and shrugged a shoulder. He wasn’t 100% sure, but… Well, he had to assume it was true since why else would she trust a note from him? If the shoe fits, right?

“He got angry that she didn’t want to be with him, so he decided all aliens were trash and turned on them which is how they got discovered in the barn. Jesse said that he basically started telling anyone who would listen that they were all conniving seductresses, so you couldn’t trust even yourself around them,” Michael said, shifting against. Alex gave him that stern look that made him stop. “He taught all his kids that, so now the entire active Cameron branch is basically murder hungry for aliens and anyone they think might be under their influence. Worse than your dad.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why my dad and Flint both have the tattoo. What’s that about?” Alex asked.

“I didn’t ask,” Michael admitted, “If I had to guess, it’s more about what they think it means than what it was intended to mean.”

“So if my dad is so aware of all of that, how could he still hate aliens? If he had this information, why does he want an alien genocide?” Alex wondered. Michael shrugged.

“Superiority complex? Narcissism?” he filled in. Alex sighed and nodded, rubbing his face again. He paused as he covered his eyes, breathing hard and steady as he sat there for a moment. His body slowly started to relax before he jolted back to life and lifted his head. Michael frowned. “You’re tired, you need to go to sleep.”

“No, I’m fine,” Alex insisted, sitting up a little straighter, ”Look, we’re going out this weekend to go meet the active Camerons, so we’ll figure out just how bad they are.”

Michael’s eyes went wide. “What? No. I just told you they’re dangerous.”

“Everything’s dangerous, Guerin. You also gave me reasons why we need to dismantle them even more,” Alex pointed out, “If this is even true. I don’t trust my father or anything he says. For all we know, he’s lying to us.”

“Fine, then I’m coming with you,” Michael insisted. Alex shook his head.

“You just said they’re murder hungry for aliens and who they influence. You come, you get us all killed,” Alex said, “Look, you warned me. I’ll be on high alert.”

“I have a bad feeling,” Michael said right back. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I always have a bad feeling. And when I have a good feeling, it turns out to be bad all along. So trust that I can take care of myself,” he insisted.

Michael frowned even more, feeling a little too stuck and a little too helpless. He clenched his fists and tried not to make it too obvious when it seized up.

Alex noticed.

“There’s so many people!”

“It’s a club on a Saturday night, did you expect it to be empty?”

“I don’t know!”

Alex huffed a laugh and held onto Kyle’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other as they made their way to the bar. He weaved through people with ease, catching eyes as he passed. He couldn’t deny that that felt nice. As great as being wanted by Michael Guerin could feel, there was always something so exhilarating about catching the eye of a stranger. They knew nothing and had no reason to give praise through pity‒it was purely aesthetic appreciation. Teenage Alex could’ve benefited from a lot more of that.

He pulled Kyle to the bar, the man seeming far more giddy than he should be as Alex ordered them drinks.

“You think there’ll be a drag show?” Kyle asked. The bartender laughed.

“Wrong night, baby,” he said, patting Kyle on the hand as he handed him a drink. Alex rolled his eyes at the vague disappointment on his friend's face.

“We’re here for a reason and you’re already getting distracted,” Alex told him, leaning closer to his ear so people didn’t overhear. Kyle nodded in understanding.

Alex took a sip of his drink as his eyes slowly started scanning the crowd. He needed to find Casey Cameron and then syphon him for information all while being cautious. Because he promised he would be cautious. As if Michael fucking Guerin had any room to talk about being cautious.

“So, you and Guerin made up, then?” Kyle asked. Alex tried to keep his face neutral. The last thing he wanted was to be off-putting.

“Depends on what you mean by made up.”

“Well, he went to your dad for information for you and you accepted the information,” he pointed out. Alex rolled his eyes.

“He slept with me knowing that I misunderstood what he was feeling and then told everyone I was a liar because I didn’t tell him about a piece of glass that was pretty unimportant. It’s gonna take more than that to get back to where we were,” Alex explained.

“But you are expecting to get back to that point?”

Alex sighed, “We’re trying this new thing where we’re adults and try to talk things through. We had a setback, but we’re still dismantling a government conspiracy together and he managed to apologize in under 36 hours. Progress.”

“Make him work for it,” Kyle insisted. Alex nodded and then closed his hand around his wrist.

“Yeah, I will, but is that him?” Alex asked, nodding towards a blonde man with a bushy beard and long hair that was dancing with another man in the middle of the floor.

“Looks like him,” Kyle agreed, “What’s the plan?”

“We dance, I get his attention. Once we go to the back, give me ten minutes, if I don’t come out, come after me.”

“Got it.”

Alex tugged on his arm.

“C’mon.”

Alex pulled him to the dance floor, keeping his eyes on Casey. He only took his eyes off him for a moment to make sure Kyle was comfortable with dancing with him before going back to the youngest active Cameron. He was 23 and bold and Alex had to play into his own strengths if he was going to get anything out of him. And, well, he was going to get things out of him.

He pulled Kyle’s hips against his, moving to the music as he kept his eyes on the other man. From prior experience, he knew he’d be able to get his attention if he stared long enough and pushed enough to make him want him. It’d worked before. Countless times.

Alex turned his face into Kyle’s just a little, nose grazing his sideburn as his fingers drifted over his neck. His eyes stayed on Casey, waiting to catch his eye. When he finally did, Alex smiled and continued staring at him. Casey grinned right back and cocked an eyebrow in interest to which Alex gave a little nod.

“This tickles,” Kyle whispered.

“Couple more seconds,” Alex promised. Kyle disguised his nod by turning his face into Alex’s a little more. Alex felt a strange, impulsive spike of interest burn in his stomach, but he ignored it as he kept his eyes on Casey and his challenging looks. Then Casey just kissed the man he was dancing with, eyes still on Alex through the whole thing. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” Alex instructed carefully, eyes again double checking that this was okay. Kyle didn’t even question the request, pressing his lips to Alex’s in a relatively chaste kiss. It was almost cute.

Alex curled his fingers around his neck, kissing him back at the same level of innocence as he tried his best to lure Cam’s cousin in with his best pair of ‘fuck me’ eyes. It seemed to work as Casey let go of his dance partner with a soft laugh, shaking his head at Alex. Score.

He broke the kiss as Casey started moving towards him, ending it with a kiss on the cheek and a silent promise that they’d talk about it later before Casey pushed between them and took over Alex’s attention. Alex gave Kyle one last look, seeing him a little red faced and dazed before he nodded and went to go find a place to watch over from afar. It was all Alex needed to dance a little more intently against his new partner.

“You’re a tease,” Casey accused, voice deeper than he expected it to be. Alex huffed a laugh and slowly moved his gaze from his lips to his eyes. Casey seemed more interested in him than he had in his first partner and that felt like a win in a couple different areas.

“I’m a lot of things, but I wouldn’t say that,” Alex told him. That fire lit behind his eyes and he licked his lips.

“So you follow through?”

Alex grinned and bit down on his lip, leaning in closer as hands started roaming over him. This was too easy.

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Did he do something to you?”

“No.”

“Then why does it still hurt? I thought Max healed it. Did you get an x-ray done?”

Michael shook his head, pulling his hand into himself. Alex eyed him and he shifted under his gaze.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Do you have more on the other subject?” Alex asked. Michael didn’t, so he stayed silent. “Exactly. So let’s talk about why you went to my fucking dad’s in the first place.”

“I wanted to get information for you,” Michael said, shrugging slightly, “I felt guilty and I didn’t wanna come apologize again empty handed.”

“Usually that means flowers.”

He shrugged and tried to muster up a smile. “We were never really the flower type.”

“We could’ve been,” Alex said carefully, “I thought we were headed that way.”

Michael sighed and looked around the room, trying to find his words. It was much easier to present him with information or to be antagonistic than it was to admit his wrongs out loud. No wonder they had so many problems for so long.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up, I should’ve just talked to you about what was bothering me,” Michael admitted. Alex shifted against the pillows.

“And I’m sorry for keeping it from you. It… it felt unimportant in comparison to everything else and then I was scared that if you had it, you’d leave to get away from the important things. It was selfish of me to not realize that it was important. Important to you, to your history. I’m sorry,” Alex said. Michael’s eyes only then realized that the piece was still sitting on the bed, trying to taunt them but palling in comparison to the hold Alex always seemed to have on his attention.

“And I’m sorry that I called you a liar in front of our friends and, fuck, I’m so sorry that I let us kiss and have sex with my mind like that. Yeah, sex has always been a distraction, but a distraction from the outside world. Using you to distract myself from you was…” Michael huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head, “And apparently I’m a genius.”

“I’m not gonna say it’s okay,” Alex admitted, “That really hurt me. I can’t just go back to the way we were that fast. I know I fucked up, but that…”

“Was wrong, I know,” Michael said, taking a deep breath, “But I want to make it up to you. Show you that I love you. Because I do. I love you, Alex, and I’m so sorry for not treating you like it.”

“I love you too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, “I know that. I thought you didn’t and you were lying for a while, but I… I know now. I know you love me.”

Alex cracked the smallest smile, nodding his head. He looked so tired.

“I’m sorry for not showing you it the right way,” Alex said. Michael nodded. They stared at each other for a moment too long before Alex held out his hand. “Good talk?”

With a laugh, Michael accepted it and shook it.

“Good talk."

It’d been a long time since Alex kissed someone with a full beard, but he made it work despite how itchy it was. Besides, there was nothing that screamed success quite like being pulled into the backroom of a club.

“God, get out of these jeans,” Alex said, trying to play it off like he wasn’t heading straight for that tattoo. He’d admittedly practiced getting on his knees and back up again more than a few times to make sure this would work. If things went 100% perfect, it would.

He unbuttoned Casey’s jeans and pushed them down, pressing sloppy kisses everywhere as he got on his knees in the most graceful way that he could. Getting back up would be difficult, but he could use his body as leverage.

“What’s this?” Alex asked, slowly stopping his kisses as he saw that uncanny three-man trident on his hip. He rubbed his thumb over it, looking up to Casey who seemed over the conversation before it began. But, truly, Alex felt like he had more power than the man with his pants around his knees. “Never seen anything like this before. Does it have a meaning?”

“Family thing,” Casey filled in, “Now are you gonna get to work or are you just here to chat? What happened to not being a tease?”

Alex flashed a smile and pretended to get back to the task at hand. He actually had no interest or intent to do anything, but he could always lie. He just needed a little more information.

“What kind of family thing? ‘Cause it kinda looks like a symbol to one of the zodiac signs. Are you all tauruses?” Alex asked. Casey sighed.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Oh, so, it’s a matching tattoo with an ex-boyfriend?” Alex asked. Casey looked down at him, eyes narrowed at the accusation.

“What’s your name again?” Casey asked. Alex reached his hands out to touch his thighs in a soothing manner, wanting to sway his mind away from any straying thoughts that Alex might not be who he said he was.

“Alex,” he answered honestly. Alex learned young that a lie worked best when it was close to the truth.

“Last name?”

“You really wanna know that?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. He hoped Kyle was right outside the door. “Didn’t know this was something more than hookup.”

“It stopped being a hookup when you started running your mouth, what’s your last name?” he demanded, starting to pull his jeans back up.

Alex slowly started to steady himself so he could get to his feet.

“Truman.”

Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

Before Alex could get to his feet, he was pushed backwards onto the ground. He looked up at him with wide eyes, still trying to play the part of an innocent misunderstanding. Really, he was trying to gauge how easy it would be to get Casey on the ground with him. He couldn’t get to his feet fast enough, but he could definitely put up a fight if they were on the same level.

“What the fuck?” Alex asked.

“That’s not your name.”

“Yes, it is, you dick.”

“You must think I’m so stupid,” Casey said, “Or that the makeup and the aging and the facial hair would distract me. Or, fuck, the hookup would distract me. I’m trained, Manes. More trained than you were.”

Well, that had actually caught Alex off guard. Were the active Camerons just given a fucking family tree of people to attack? Alex stared at him, wondering if he should deny it or if he should just accept he was caught and fight.

He realized denial was never his strong suit.

“Funny you’d think that,” Alex said, using his prosthetic to slam against Casey’s legs. It was just heavy enough and metal enough to throw him off balance, sending him to the floor.

Alex quickly locked his legs around Casey’s, rolling on top of him and putting his hand on the other man’s head to hold it against the concrete ground.

“I didn’t wanna get violent,” Alex said, “I just wanted to know what you know.”

“Fuck off. I don’t trust Manes Men.”

“Sure,” Alex laughed, “Which is why you wanted to fuck one.”

Casey went still for a moment before he quickly bucked his hips, throwing Alex off balance. Alex didn’t let him go as his back hit the floor. Instead, he hooked his arms beneath his and wrapped his legs around his waist. It was a pretty stupid move, but it kept him from being able to stand up or even really roll back over.

“Just tell me what you guys are up to and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Like I believe that,” Casey said, “You’re a spy.”

“Now you’re just giving me too much credit.”

Casey threw his head back, hitting Alex in the nose just enough to get him to loosen his grip. He tore Alex’s legs off him and started climbing to his feet, taking an elbow to the side of the head. Alex used him as leverage to get up too, moving as quickly as he could and managing to steady himself before Casey could fully reorient.

“Just tell me,” Alex said, ducking out of the way as Casey swung his fist instead. Alex threw one back and actually hit.

They fought for what felt like a few minutes but was probably only about 30 seconds. He just needed to buy time for Kyle to get there and then they could get the fuck out. Clearly, the Camerons weren’t big fans of the Manes and weren’t keen on sharing any information.

“I’ve been told stories about you,” Casey accused, face bleeding as he tried to fight the headlock Alex had him in, “We all have.”

“Like what?” Alex asked, trying not to let go as Casey used his body to slam Alex into the wall in an attempt to get him to let go.

“The youngest Manes boy,” he said breathlessly, “Fell into the trap of one of them. Thought you’d smartened up since you hadn’t caused a scene. Looks like they were wrong. You’re just as fucking deadly.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” Alex said, tightening his grip as anger coursed through him. How much did they know about Michael? Did they know his name? His face? If Alex let go, would they go after him? “I’m deadly. But it has nothing to do with them.”

Alex swung him around, slamming his head into the brick wall and effectively knocking him unconscious. He didn’t bother sparing him another glance as he headed towards the door, needing to get to Kyle so they could get back to Roswell before shit hit the fan. It seemed they may have stirred the pot in a cold rivalry.

When Alex opened the door, however, five huge men were standing there and blocking his way. None of them were Kyle; all of them seemed to be too aware of who he was. Alex swallowed harshly and took a step back, bracing himself for the inevitable.

Live free or die trying, right?

“So, uh, you mind if I…”

“On the couch,” Alex told him. Michael nodded, accepting the compromise easily and letting go of Alex’s hand slowly. “You’re always welcome. Even if I kinda want to throw you in the trash sometimes.”

Michael snorted, “I guess you could have worse desires. Goodnight, Alex, please sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Michael.”

Michael stood up and started to walk towards the door, but he was stopped by Alex calling his name again. When he turned around, he saw him holding out the piece to him. Michael reluctantly took it and closed the bedroom door behind him.

He was going to do better.

#Malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on

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