#i did a lot of squat to stand to squat kind of movements and it was a VERY bad idea with my very weak joints

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

ough i fucked up my hip joints perusing the joann paper aisle. not beating the elderly allegations today boys

[abrandnewshadow]

ok I have to say everything that happened ignore me i'll try to make it a story because I have EXPERIENCED dunes. 09/28/2024 louder than life festival louisville ky. today.

festival and slayer was cancelled yesterday and I was so sure today would be cancelled but noo the dunes boys coming thru!!

I went to stand at the barricade 2 bands before dunes and I had an amazing stage right spot. during the in between times I saw anthony! kind of backstage. then travis and then tucker and I was shaking and at one point anthony was backstage dancing to 3 6 mafia (they were playing next stage over) and I thought I got it on my phone but I didn't. </3333

my phone died and for the whole dunes show it was actually lost in the mud due to my excessive movement. no photos but i'll plan better for oct. my phone was lost and I found it miraculously with a security person. many miracles this day.

the first I saw of frank was his left hand tattoos. the bows and arrows. I was flipping out internally and so happy and amazed. I did happy cry I couldn't believe he was literally before my eyes. he was talking to the guitar tech here and there and smiled at the crowd (still 1 band away from them performing). I can't not mention that he squatted he squatted down to mess with an amp. not elaborating. he also pushed some rolly suitcases across the stage idk. frank did it so it's important.

[frank] he sang. he played beautiful parts. he smiled. he held his eyes closed. he did a little head bob thing. I was the definition of living. I screamed my voice away. it's ok it was loud no one could hear me that bad I didn't make a scene but I was jumping and going insane.

anthony took his shirt off and got in the mud it was mythical.

frank threw a couple picks I was too far away BUT

what if I told you that I put my hand up and screamed when frank was throwing water bottles and he smiled his beautiul smile andHE THREW ONE RIGHT TO ME

the FUKC ING WATER ISN'T IN THE BOTTLE IT SPILLED TRAGICALLY

but I have the bottle. going to put a note on it that says "throw this away and lose your life" not extreme at all and reasonable.

when i tell you I mustered all my limited sports skills to catch that fucking thing. I was making the derpiest face of all fuckin time and it was sooo close it barely missed and hit the barricade near security and I said "PLEASE please please give me that water." there was a nice older gentlemen beside me (not the security) and I said "he threw that right fuckin to me!!" and he agreed so thats that.

it didn't seem like a lot of dunes fans there? there were some frank people wearing frank things like skelly gloves. I didn't get the chance to talk to all of them. a sweet new friend showed me her ty for the venom tattoo.I personally didn't want to send the message that I was only there for frank/mcr. my scorpion tattoo is damning enough and I just don't think they want to be the "mcr adjacent" band. and probably frank doesn't want people coming just for the stuff he did in the past. but idk

frank and I basically played catch like a father and son it's fien

i'm efine

sadly my only picture - taken by chloe corbin lmao

luckily I saw someone filming and in these modern times I'm sure other people got pictures. glad I didn't get distracted and got to be there and o I was there alright I was inside the music ok?

[afi-mukami]

Her Scent of Magnolias

Final Fantasy VII

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa and Aerith have fallen from Don Corneo's trap into the sewer along with Cloud. The group will not be able to proceed until the broken water pump is repaired. While Cloud stays to monitor the meters, Tifa and Aerith have a moment to chat alone.

It is kind of funny how Cloud stares as Tifa announces that women can do the pump repair and he can meanwhile monitor the gauges. I could not help but smile. No doubt Cloud is used to being the hero and feels obligated to take care of everything. When I remember how Tifa and I had just saved him from falling into the sewage, laughter bubbles from my lips. I get it swallowed and hurry after Tifa back to the side of the drain.

Tifa's hips sway at the pace of her steps. The fabric of the black miniskirt is stiff and does not actually follow the movements but emphasizes her curvy body in just the right way. I would never dress that way, but it is hard to take my eyes off Tifa.

I do not remember having looked at her this way back then. Now she is capturing my eyes time and time again. I am not sure if that is good. I should not. I should focus only on the essentials, but I can do nothing for my wandering gaze and heart rate. That heartbeat was supposed to belong to only one person. Will I ever learn? And how many opportunities do I have?

“Living in slums has taught a lot,” Tifa says, squatting in front of a malfunctioning pump.

I stand a little distance away. I cannot be much of help; it would have been more useful if I had stayed to monitor the metrics. Tifa’s fingers run along the mechanisms of the pump as if she were an experienced plumber. The same fingers were very warm when they grabbed me earlier.

Crossing dirty splashing water along mere floating tiles did not directly feel like a good idea. However, Cloud got over without difficulty, and the trick went smoothly for Tifa as well. I half envied the physical ability of both.

I set off. The tiles rocked beneath me, but I got ahead. I swayed, wavered, I accelerated my pace. I already felt the tiles prune from under me. I plunged forward and could imagine how the stinking water would hit me.

Just then, Tifa grabbed my arm and snatched. I kicked the raft with my feet. Maybe I jumped or maybe I just fell, I do not even know. The next moment I collided directly against Tifa, and her arms wrapped around me. Tifa smelled of magnolias and was softer than she looked. As I straightened up, anxiety narrowed her eyes.

“May I ask…” Tifa starts and turns to look at me. There is a slightly reddish tinge to her brown eyes, I notice now. Anyway, I should have remembered it, but the details are surprisingly vague. They seem to flag out of my grip, especially if I intentionally try to grab them. I know how things should be, but at the same time I still forget. It is exceedingly difficult to explain.

“Of course,” I answer before I have time to drown in my own mind.

“How did you and Cloud really meet?”

He is a special person of Tifa. The one Tifa lied about when we last met. This time I am not pointing out a lie but telling an absurd story of how a handsome young man fell through the roof of a church. I omit the most absurd detail; it was not the first time. I still remember that time when the same thing happened, and I lost my heart. I knew so little back then; I was ready to give all away for just one blue gaze. Or one more. I should not have surrendered that way, but I cannot help but think of all the past moments that wrapped our destinies together. Without them I would not be who I am now.

There is something in Tifa's gaze that I cannot read. She closes me off and sinks somewhere far away. I squat next to her.

“Can I help with the pump somehow?” I ask.

Tifa smiles and the light comes on in her eyes again. Her nose twitches, and a smile reaches all the way to the gaze. Sewer hiking has tainted her careful makeup, but I can hardly look fresher myself. Even with the smeared eyeshadow, her lashes frame her eyes like petals the center of a flower.

“Push that lever down, and I’m trying to get this in place. When I say, lift the lever back up,” Tifa replies.

I work as directed, and Tifa continues to work on her own. Her hands move as if they were born for such tasks, but I have seen them under different actions. Tifa does not hesitate to defend herself. She is strong in a way I will never be able to be.

“Did you tell Cloud that we had met before?” Tifa continues the conversation.

I shake my head.

“Me neither.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It did not seem appropriate. It's almost as if he shouldn't know it.”

I look behind us. I do not see Cloud who stayed back to observe the vibration of the gauge needles. I think Tifa is right. Cloud is not supposed to know about our encounter because it was not supposed to happen. Something has sprained, and I want to make that sprain worse. Is this the path I should choose?

“Now push it down,” Tifa says.

I grab the lever firmly and forcibly twist it down. Tifa sighs and shakes her head. Crank the lever up again. Tifa changes places and her side presses against my leg. She is warm even though the sewer is coolly humid. I smell the scent of one perfume, I recognize magnolia, even though this scent has been produced industrially. I wish I could one day grow magnolias in my garden.

Tifa's side rubs against my leg. Her bare skin between the top and the skirt. She falls to her knees and presses her head against the pump she is trying to fix. Her hand disappears inside of the pump at the same moment as our gazes’ glue together. Nutty. Her gaze is nutty. Warm and attractive but safe. There is stability in Tifa that is lacking in my own life. Where I live in constant cross-water and in danger of being caught in the wrong course, Tifa has grown stable roots. Of course, the roots can also be cut and crushed, but there is something charming about that stability.

The pump carries a metallic buckle.

“Now!” Tifa exclaims and jerks her hand away from inside the device.

I push with all my strength, and the lever presses down. My grip slips. I try to support the position by moving my legs, but the floor of the drain is slimy, and my shoes slip. I fall to my knees and stumble upon Tifa who grabs me. Our faces are almost stuck together, but she pushes me into a better position.

“Oops, I didn’t realize that lever is so stiff,” Tifa says.

I laugh and wrap my hair straightening around my fingers. “I'm just not very strong.”

“There are many kinds of strength.”

I squeeze my fingers around Tifa's biceps. Gently but firmly, so that my grip will certainly not slip. Tifa's eyes widen as she looks at me. I open my mouth, but just at that moment, the sewer around us is crackling. The world breaks down into strands and re-forms.

Tifa smiles and fireworks crackle behind the window. Our environment swings, the sky curves above us, and we move slowly upward. Numerous amusement rides, a theater, a chocobo arena are left under… I do not see them, I just see Tifa.

I extend my hand towards Tifa, and at that very moment everything is distorted and fragmented. Everything disappears…

“Aerith?” Tifa asks. Her hand lands on my cheek.

I blink my eyes. The sight is gone and evaporates farther and farther. I'm no longer sure what I saw. Was it past or future? Was it something that happened to me a long time ago or did it happen to someone else? I do not know. Everything is twisted into one big ball with no beginning and no end, just an endless journey. I know I should know more, but my memories are stuck in the depths of the ball.

“Is everything okay?” Tifa asks, and I nod.

“Yes. I'm only tired.”

“I’m not surprised. This has been quite a night and it is not even over yet.”

Tifa grabs me by the shoulders and strives to stand up. The area between the socks and the skirt flashes past my eyes, and I almost raise my hand. At the last minute, I stop myself. Tifa's hand appears in front of me. I grab it and let her drag me to my feet.

“Cloud is probably already waiting impatiently,” Tifa says and smiles.

I respond with a smile and a nod. When I let go of Tifa’s hand, her fingers swipe my palm.

I definitely need to get magnolias for my garden. Maybe next time.

[jonathankatwhatever]

It’s 5:25AM on 8 Dec 2023, and I’m trying to read the cat’s mind, which is impossible because he doesn’t know it himself. I think he may actually just want to stare out the window. I sat down to give him space to make a decision, and it’s a bit of affection and staring out the window for rabbits. I know the last part because I chased away a few when I was outside with him at 4:35. There are a lot of rabbits now that the coyotes have killed the feral cats.

I just did the best physical stretches since I was a child: I got into a variety of really deep squats from the perspective of first completely folding over and then dropping the hips while bent all the over, and then getting into various positions to rise from. Like one was with the weight centered at the point in the foot where it hinges so I drove my body up timed to the lifting of the rib cage, emulating a ski jumper coming off the slope on the big hill, trying to get that snap and thus force into the movement, experienced as smooth and continuous rather than as bang it happened. A quickie. My mind and sexuality. A quickie can take many forms. What does that mean? A quickie can be for the effect, for the release of a tension which is enacting, which perhaps is being displaced into the act and thus action. A quickie can enact intimacy within a relationship, so there’s a grabbed moment which shares the attribute of being different because you can’t choose your relatives but you can choose whom you are intimate with and the degree to which that intimacy runs and to which it is kept a mutual secret.

Another form is the stolen moment. These are all recognized literary tropes. I can’t make up new ones because the universe we know is finite, is constructed, and thus has a history. That’s why this entire over-turning of history conception is truly the devil’s work. It’s a refusal to accept results. Like if Dewey were still contesting the loss to Truman. Like it’s a rematch between Ali and. Frazier. Don’t you love my dated references? You can attach newer ones. The first is obviously Trump, so the idea is to imagine that Truman and Dewey were immortal and each election is between them because they each refuse to accept defeat. You can see the Alternation there, meaning refusal to accept defeat continues a state of conflict, a perpetual war which breaks out from time to time, You can thus see the choice.

I’ve been waiting for a big leap in Storyline because the huge simplifications of the last few days carry implications which need to be expressed in Storyline. And this time it went: they talk and she talks independently about how she studied him, and I could see this now from the 2 sides, which is clearly (!) an expression of the 2Square conception described yesterday. That deserves another ! That is, the orthogonal 2Square expresses into and maps to the 1Square scale. One way is that the walls are 1Square, so the orthogonal value of 2Square flips open to the image of a gs. This just takes the inversion idea, stands it straight at you so you can see anything but the one End, then flips it open. All those states exist because we have these scales. Another approach is older than the Pythagoreans, that value of the squares of sides can be laid out alongside the line, as though the other 3 lines were there even though you only drew a triangle. The only way that can happen is if we have the orthogonal state and treat that as rotated, and of course rotated back because that communicates the identity. This kind of mechanics is necessary because these are all constructions.

Cross-identification. Isn’t that interesting. Already redefined the Jesus story so it becomes the expression of the female giving birth confronting the impossibility of that happening, so the death is the sacrifice of the mother, which is also then literalized into the Mary stories. So it tacks on to the trope of the mother dying at childbirth, with all the orphan stories and family and step-family stories, etc.

Another form of ‘reverse squat’ becomes the bottom of a deep squat where the weight is on the full foot but forward onto the balls of the feet, but not over to the toes. These are the anti-chains we described years ago. We proved their existence as part of the construction of Triangular over gs because that cross-identifies, and that cross-identification requires pathways which actually connect or which approach in ways taken to connect. That latter is the gap or delta effect of 0-1-0. It’s what we often think of as renormalization, and I think that may clarify what that is: measurements are of something and that something is an End, meaning a construction, a union which Attaches structures. Example is that hatreds of people, particularly of Jews, are flips of the Attachments. The process is like described yesterday: take the positive contributions, note that they don’t fix you, say they’re holding you back, are plotting against you, so you identify the hatred within you with the hate of them because they aren’t perfect, etc.

OK, so to not stop on that note, I looked in the mirror while the cat was out and noticed a few obvious ‘errors’ which I cut away, thinking about how what I liked before now isn’t as finished as I thought it was, but that it’s getting better because I looked at the guy there and he looked like the combination of characteristics I’ve always wanted to see.

[magicalhideoutengineer]

You’re very specific with color choices for the costumes your characters wear, and have sometimes struggled to find a shade that will photograph in the right way. How did you end up with the specific shade for Newt Scamander’s blue coat, which he wears throughout the film?

The thing is, a lot of [Scamander’s] creatures had sort of luminescent color, and I wanted him to have a sense of being one with them, but not standing out, like he’s in some neon outfit in the middle of the street. I came to this blue with a lot of green in it, and it has a little bit of brown undertones. It’s an interesting blue because in different light, it photographs differently. I didn’t want it to pop too much, and I played with it a little bit.

It was a wool that I had in my sock, actually, that I dyed to get the color that I wanted, so it was a process to get the color right. Taking more yellow in, putting more yellow out. Little tweaks with it, but I finally got to a point to show it to the Davids—that would be [director] David Yates and [producer] David Heyman. Eddie [Redmayne] and I were all over it, we loved it, but we were like, “Well, I guess we’d better show it to them, because it’s a big commitment.

At first, they were like, “Whoa. It’s kind of a blue-themed coat.” I was like, “Yeah, but if you put it around black and navy and the colored coats—the grays and all the colors around it—it’s still going to work okay. It’s not going to be the only thing you see in the frame.” That was how it evolved and how it became what it is.

We played with the shape of it a lot, that coat, because Eddie squats down on his case a lot—does a lot of up and down movement—and he has a sideways gait to him that he evolved for Newt. It’s almost like an animal walk, in a way. I really wanted something that served him, too, and we did a lot of rehearsals with it to make sure it all worked for him, with his acting.

Certainly, one of the other standout pieces would be the dress and headpiece worn by Carmen Ejogo.

It’s funny. It was a funny show, in the sense that I find these weird things in my journeys for different jobs. Sometimes, they sit in my storage room for a very long time, and then all of a sudden, they have a place. I had this piece that was actually based on an Indonesian wedding crown, and I disassembled it and reassembled it in a different formation, but the elements in her crown were all disassembled from that.

She wears a turban the rest of the time, just to set her apart from people. I wanted her to have this sort of tribal beauty to her, but also feel powerful. The back of that’s kind of a turban, but the front’s a huge kind of garden crown, and it gave her scale. She was in quite a huge room for that shot…I mean, it added probably ten inches to her height. Not to mention the shoes I had on her, but just to give her a very vertical and powerful sense in a room of powerful people.

It suited her face. She has an exquisite kind of beauty to her face. Not everyone can plunk that on their head and look good. [Laughs]

[thewritetofreespeech]

Obey Me + Jealousy

prompt: The Demon Brothers don’t like that you’re spending time with your best friend in the human world. Loosely based off this prompt done previously.

Lucifer

It had been a long time since you had been up to the human world. Even longer since you had seen your best friend. You were so excited to see them! Laughing. Telling old inside stories. Catching up on gossip.

Although you were having a great time in the human world, your escort for the day did not seem to be enjoying all your world had to offer.

In order to get ‘top side’ Lucifer had to come with you. He was the only one able to open the portal there and back, and insisted on coming with you to keep you safe. You felt the need to remind him that the Devildom was the actual dangerous place, but it would take longer than just letting him come.

Now you kind of wish you had taken the time to argue. He was really being a major downer the whole day.

“Are you ok? You seem irritated.” Or, well, more irritated than usual.

“No. I’m fine.” Lucifer replied. Although not lending any credibility to the statement. “I’m just thinking of all the more useful things I could be doing with my time.”

You frown at his flip comment. “If you don’t want to be here, then you can leave. No one is making you stay here.”

“Fine. Since you seem so entertained by your little friend to pay any attention to me, perhaps it is best if I do head home.”

You blink a little at Lucifer’s statement. It was cold, and once again flip, as usual. But you were surprised he mentioned your friend. “Lucifer, are you jealous I’m spending time with them?”

The demon rebuttaled with a surprised look before he frowned at you. “I am not jealous.”

“Really? Cause it seems like your-“I am not jealous!” He repeated, louder and sterner this time. He let that moment linger there before he sighed and looked away with his arms cross. “I am….perhaps irritated to be ignored.”

‘Right, so, totally jealous.’ You think to yourself. But have the good sense to keep that thought to yourself alone. You suppose you could see where he was coming from. It’s hard to be the odd man out when you and your friends get together. Being so proud and prominent in the demon world, this is probably the first time it had happened to Lucifer.

“I’m sorry if you’re feeling left out. I’ll try to be more inclusive.”

“No. You’re right.” Lucifer remarked. Finally looking back at you with a much softer expression. “It’s foolish of me to think I can take all of your time. You deserve some moments of your own. I shouldn’t have intruded.” His hand reached out to cup your cheek, while offering you the faintest of smiles. “I will leave, but not because I’m angry. I want you to spend time with your friend and enjoy it, which would be best when I’m not around. Just call me when you’re ready to come home and I’ll come fetch you.” He released your cheek and took a step back. Smiling at you again before he disappeared.

You wonder, briefly, if he could feel your heart swelling with pride after you left. To think a small human like you could make the great Lucifer jealous.

Mammon

There were a lot of things you loved about Mammon.

His spontaneity. His zest for life. How nothing ever seemed to get him down for too long.

However, it was hard to remember all those good qualities when he was behaving so poorly all day.

“Mammon! Can you knock it off?!”

“What?! I’m just standing here. I’m not good enough at standing here for ya now!” The demon barked back. Not matching your whisper tone at all.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it. You’ve been a jerk all day and I’d like you to cut it out.”

“Oh, so now I’m a jerk! Well sorry sweetheart but I’m a demon. We’re not ‘upposed to be nice and friendly all the time. Sometimes we get ta be jerks!”

“Good lord, say it a little bit louder Mammon!” You hiss back at him letting practically the whole world, or at least this park, know he was a demon.

Mammon tsked his teeth and turned away from you. “Can’t do anything right.” He muttered. “Why don’t you go hang out with your friend then, if I’m such a jerk? You two seem ta be having a grand ol’ time on your own with me here. Shouldn’t make much of a difference if I’m gone.” He said before crossing his arms in a huff.

“Is that what this is about?” You ask. Ignoring his little out burst (because when he gets this way it’s just best to ignore him). “You’re mad that I’m spending time with my friend and not you?”

“No!” Yes. Totally yes.

“Mammon are you jealous?”

The demon floundered comically at the question, his mouth opening & closing like a fish as he tried to find words, before he answered. “I am not jealous!!” Great come back. “The Great Mammon does not get jealous! Ya hear! I’m just pissed because you’re spending all this time with them when I’m the one who schlepped all the way up here for ya, and used my connections to get us top side!” He turned away again and recrossed his arms. Then he muttered under his breath, “it was just supposed to be you and me today, for once.”

A sigh left you lips, and you step closer to Mammon to place your hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your plans. I was just excited to see my friend. It’s been so long. Plus I wanted you to meet them so I can show you off. You are my first after all.”

Those blue gold eyes got a little wide, and Mammon blushed, before he gulped once and refocused himself. “Y-Y-Yeah! Of course. Ya should be proud to show me off. It’s not everyone who gets to be seen with an all-powerful demon like me. If anyone is ‘jealous’ it should be everyone else for not having the Great Mammon by their side!”

“Of course,” you agree with a giggle. Before you lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“D-Don’t ya forget it!”

Levi

“Hey, [Y/N]-chan, I think I’m gonna head home.”

You look up from your soda at Levi, who was fidgeting beside you after he spoke. “What? Why? I thought you were having fun.”

“Yeah, no. No I mean….you seem like your having fun with your friend so I don’t want to bother you. 3 is a crowd.”

“Levi, that’s not true. You’re not bothering us. I just wanted to spend sometime with my bff while we’re in town.”

“No. I get it. Who would want to hang out with a crummy otaku like me.”

“Levi, that’s not what I said. I do want to hang out with you!”

“But you have your normie friend.” Levi looked past you at the friend in question. “Look at them. Being out, talking to people like a regular person. I can never do that. You should go on without me and leave me here. You seem much happier with them anyway.”

“Levi…come on. That isn’t—” Your train of thought stops itself as it came to a sudden, and abrupt realization. “Levi, are you jealous?”

The blue haired demon responded with his trademark ‘eehhh??’ at the question, and quickly covered his face with is arm. “O-O-Of course not!” He exclaimed. Barely hiding the blush on his cheeks. “Who would be jealous of a normie?? I just I…I mean you…Y-You seem so happy with them [Y/N]-chan. A sad otaku like me can never make you that happy. So it’s just bumming me out!”

You offer Levi a soft smile, then move to squat down in front of him. “True. I am happy when I hang out with my friends. But I’m happy when I hang out with you too. No one can gush about anime with me like you can.” You reassure him. He was the Avatar of Envy after all. What did you expect?

The demon slowly poked his head out from under his arm. “Really?”

“Of course. It’s…not really a side of myself I get to show to people. They think I’m weird. But with you, I can be that part of myself. That’s the part that you have Levi.”

His face turned bright red all over again, and Levi sat there for a moment before he quickly shook his head. “D-Don’t say stuff like that [Y/N]-chan! Don’t make me fall for your normie trap!”

You giggle and stand up again to offer Levi your hand. “Come on. Lets find something we can all do together. The Cineplex is playing some old action movies we can go and make fun of.”

“Oooo! Which ones??”

The distraction of old movies to riff on, and for Levi to share all his in-depth knowledge on, was a welcome alternative for the afternoon. He even had a spirited debate with your best friend on the concepts of CGI graphics vs old school ‘cut & paste’ cinematography. Crisis on planet Earth avoided.

Satan

It was always fun to come back to the human world. Especially with Satan.

Not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with the others, but most of them could be a little....energetic. It was nice to spend a calm afternoon with the 4th brother alone for a change.

You both had stopped in a local coffee shop you loved when you ran into an old friend. You hadn't seen them in so long that you got to talking and eventually invited them to join your table. Where you had been laughing and having a grand time for a while now.

Or so you thought.

Satan hadn’t said a word the whole time you were at the table. Which was necessarily odd. He wasn’t a big talker like some of his brothers. However, you could tell that something was wrong with the way he kept stirring his cup, or how his jaw clenched ever now and then before releasing. His movements subtle, as always.

“I’m gonna get another cup. You want anything?” Your friend asked as they got up from the table, to which both of you motioned no.

“Can we go now.” Your head turned back to Satan at his cool words. “We were supposed to go to the bookstore.”

“We still have time to go to the bookstore.” You tell him. “It doesn’t close until a while from now.”

“Yes. But we agreed to be there at 1:00, and now it’s 1:30. That’s not the way this day was supposed to go.” The blonde replied. Fidgeting with his cup to try and align it perfectly on the saucer. “This day was supposed to be just you and I.”

You blink a little at Satan’s response. Initially thinking that he was miffed about the time. Now, however, you weren’t so sure. “Satan, are you jealous that I paused our date to hang out with my friend?”

The demon sat up straighter; though how you could be sure. Then he frowned. “I am not jealous.”

“No. I get it. It’s hard to be in a group if they have a lot of inside jokes. It’s ok if--“I am not jealous!” He shout. His fist slamming on the table, rattling the frail wood and cups. Alerting everyone in the shop to your conversation.

Satan hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Fine. I am jealous. We so rarely get time away from those idiots, and I was really looking forward to the bookstore with you. Now you have someone else tagging along. Is it so awful to be alone with me?”

Your heart sank a little at that. Was that really how Satan felt? “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to catch up with my friend for a bit since I haven’t seen them in a while. I didn’t mean to disrupt our date.” The demon blinked a few times at the word ‘date’ then blushed. Muttering about how it wasn’t like that, that he was being unreasonable, that it was all fine. Still, you smile and offer to him, “let me tell them goodbye and we’ll go to the bookstore. If we leave now, we can also stop by the pet store and play with the cats if you’d like.”

Satan fidgeted in his chair. Cheek’s still a stark pink against his blonde hair. “I....would like that.”

Asmo

It was a beautiful day in the human world, and you were so excited to be home.

Being able to spend the day in your home town, with your best friend, shopping and just playing around was the best way to spend an afternoon. Who could be sad at a day like this?

“[Y/NNNNNNNN],” Asmo whined. The usually bubbly demon dragging his shopping bags behind him as he pouted behind you. “Can’t we stop for now”

“Really Asmo? You’re usually much more of a marathon shopper.”

“It’s too hot.” He quipped back. Now with more of a frown than a pout. “This humidity is wreaking havoc on my hair.”

“Why don’t I get us something cool to drink?” Your BFF suggested. Trying to stay positive all afternoon, and pretending that they didn’t hear Asmo’s bitter ‘yeah why don’t you do that’ as they took off and he sat down.

“Asmodeus,” you hiss when you were alone. “Who can you be so rude to them? What is wrong with you today?!”

“It’s not my fault!” Asmo snapped back. Looking wounded but also scratching at his chest where his pact mark was to let you know that he knew he messed up. “This was supposed to be a day for you and me! They’re the one that but in!”

“No. You did. I told you I was going top side for a while to hang out with my friend, and you invited yourself along. So now you’re ruining everyone’s day with this behavior. I really don’t get you.”

Asmo stopped scratching at his chest and pouted for real this time.

“I don’t like seeing you with them.” He confessed. “I don’t like seeing you with anyone. Your smile….it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wanted to come along with you today because I wanted to see your smile. But seeing you happy with someone else is the worst! I don’t even care about any of this anymore. Not even my new shoes.” His foot kicked at his bag sullenly. Asmo must really be upset. “I want to go home and forget all about the human world. I want you to come home with me!”

You listen for a while before you make a confession of your own. “You’re jealous, aren’t you.” It was plain as day now. Or at least now that you realized he wasn’t just being a brat to be a brat.

Asmo turned and glared at you slightly. “Green is not my color.” He insisted before turning away in a huff.

You chuckle, then sit down beside him on the bench. “I think you look good in any color.” You tell him. Softening the demon up. “You know I care about you Asmo. But me being with my friends doesn’t mean I care about you any less. And that’s no reason to be so ugly to them. You need to apologize.”

The demon winced at the word ‘ugly’, but did seem to agree that he needed to turn this around.

When your friend came back, he quickly apologized. Blaming jet lag, or some other ridiculous believable excuse. It didn’t really matter when he turned on the charm. Gods help him if he ever set his mind to something.

Beel

He was stress eating. You could tell.

Although Beel was still shoveling food into his mouth with his usual speed and gusto, by now you could tell the difference in his eating habits. Like when he was just bored and there was food around, or when he was really hungry for something, or when he was excited to try something new. Right now, he wasn’t enjoying what he was eating. Even when he was bored or just eating to eat, Beel always seemed to enjoy it. Even if it was just a vending machine’s worth of junk.

Right now it just looked like he was doing it to take his mind off something.

“Beel? Is something wrong?” You ask softly. Still getting his attention though, and causing him to stop.

“No. Nothing ’s wrong.” He replied. His voice unusually sullen as he wiped his mouth. You knew something was wrong now. He never sounded said when he was eating. Now something was double wrong because he was lying to you.

“Beel….”

“…I don’t like your friend…” He finally confessed after a moment and long bout of staring.

You blink in surprise at his answer. Not expecting that at all. You’ve never heard Beel say a mean word about anyone before. Let alone not liking a person. “You don’t like my friend? Why? Did they do something wrong?”

“It’s not that. I just….don’t like how you are when you’re with them.” He said. Picking at the various candy wrappers he’d left littered on the table. “You seem happy.”

“Of course I’m happy. They’re my friend. I haven’t seen them in a long time, so I miss them.”

Beel flinched a little. “I know….” He seemed to be feeling bad about this now. “And I want you to be happy. I know the human world is your first home. But I’m scared that….if you like it here so much and them, that you’ll leave us again. When you’re not around it’s like this big whole in my stomach and I can’t fill it up.” His stomach growled in protest, or agreement, at his words, and Beel went back to stress eating his vending machine contents again.

Your gaze softened as you finally understood. He was jealous. He thought your friend was going to ‘take you away’ and leave him alone. That of course was silly because you’d never leave him, or the others, ever if you could help it.

You reach out your hand to stop his arm from lifting another fist full of chips to his mouth. Causing him to pause, with his mouth open, and look at you. “All this junk can’t be good for you.” You announce as you stop up from the park table suddenly. “Why don’t I take you to my favorite restaurant in town? My friend used to work there, so I’m sure we’ll get a great table and lots of yummy stuff on the house if we go.”

Beel’s eyes sparkled at the proposition. “Really??”

You giggle. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach you suppose. Because after this, and a few unlimited fry baskets later, he and your friend were besties for life as well.

Belphie

"[Y/N], I wanna go home."

"Home?" You ask. "But we just got here." You’d only arrived at the park to meet your friend a few hours ago, and had only just started hanging out.

"Well I'm tired.” Belphie muttered.

“Aren’t you always kind of tired?” You ask, as a joke, but it doesn’t seem well received.

Belphie’s frown deepens, and he even lets out an annoyed little growl, before he turns on his heels to walk away. “Belphie! Where are you going?”

“You nap under that tree.” He announced. But doesn’t seem as thrilled as he normally is about the prospect. Napping under trees was like his third favorite nap spot. “You won’t let me go home, so I’m just going to stay there while you hang out with your friend. You won’t miss me anyway.”

The last part of his statement was muttered under his breath, but you still heard it. Was that what he was being so moody about?

“Belphie? Are you jealous I’m hanging out with my friend?”

“Yes.” He replied. Rather quickly considering, with only a moment to scuff the tip of his shoes. “I don’t like that you’re spending time with them and not me. I don’t like being ignored.”

“I’m not ‘ignoring you’.” You tell him. “I’m just hanging out with my friend for a while. I haven’t seen them in a long time. They’ve probably been lonely too.”

Belphegor huffed again and sagged his shoulders. You know you got him.

Belphie might be kind of selfish sometimes, but there was one thing he could empathize with: being alone. He was cast aside and locked out, partially of his own doing, for a long time. So he didn’t want anyone else to feel that way.

“I just don’t like the idea that you like them better than me.”

“I don’t.” You assure him. Stepping in to give him a peck on the cheek, which he adorably flinches at. “I love you both. Differently, but equal. Why don’t we think of something we can all do together then, hm?”

“I’m kind of committed to this nap-tree-idea-thing.” The demon confessed. You have to giggle.

You all don’t nap, but your friend agree to get some ice creams from a vendor in the park and sit under the tree to enjoy them while Belphie napped. It was a remarkably pleasant afternoon. You were glad you got to share it with Belphie.

[axoxtxhxh]

Pairing: Sub!Daichi x DomFem!Reader Summary: Your husband comes home from work stressed out and you want nothing more than to help him relax. Content: Post-baby body issues, marking, masturbation, penetrative sex, cream pie, teasing, begging, handcuff/rope play, thigh riding, oral (kind of), blindfolding, possibly breeding kink, a bit of a daddy kink 😉, maybe some brat Daichi Word Count: ~ 2,900

A/N: We’ve finally reached the last week of our Please Me series and honestly @millenialfanfictionaddiction​ and I are so sad! It’s been a fun ride and we hope you guys enjoyed it! Please check out her story Bokuto’s Binding! You can reach it through the Please Me Series Masterlist.

Another late night. The same night you had almost every day. Your life was built on routine. Not even just built on it, but heavily relied upon it. With three children almost all under the age of five, even your free time had to be scheduled. It was nearing eleven o’clock at night and your husband would be home soon and for the first night in a while, you weren’t exhausted.

Knowing you probably smelled like baby vomit and whatever was thrown around the dinner table, you quickly jumped in the shower and threw on the only remotely sexy lingerie you had that still fit with your post-baby body. It happened to be your favorite blue, silk negligée that Daichi bought for you after your first son was born when you struggled to feel pretty in the body that you felt was no longer your own. You had a couple adjustments you would need to make to the room, but for the most part, everything was set.

Just as you were finishing up, you heard the lock click in the front door and you set down your perfume bottle, tiptoeing down the steps to meet Daichi. His back was to you as he locked the door and took off his jacket to hang up. You could tell by the low hang of his shoulders that it was a difficult shift.

“Rough night?” You asked him, sliding your hands around his waist. You felt his body jump slightly and then relax into you.

“Better now.” He smiled, turning to look at you. As soon as he felt the silk negligee under his hands he raised an eyebrow at you. “The kids asleep?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, biting your lip and you grabbed his hands, slowly leading him up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m going to help you relax tonight.”

“I am very okay with that.” He kicked the door closed lightly after you were both in the room and brought his lips to yours. Daichi enjoyed taking the lead and he was honestly really good at it, but if you wanted to be in charge for the night, you were going to have to start off strong.

“Take off your shirt.” You told him in between kisses and reached for his pants, unbuckling them and pushing him to the bed to pull them off.

“What about you?” He asked, watching you pull his underwear off.

“Don’t worry about that.” You kissed him quickly. “Move back.”

He followed what you said, leaning his back against the headboard and you reached into the nightstand to pull out his handcuffs.

“You’ve been stealing my handcuffs?” He laughed, holding his wrists out to you, but you took one hand instead and leaned over him, locking the cuffs to the thicker part of the bedpost when he pulled a chunk of your skin and negligee into his mouth, shaking his head and pretending to growl.

“Ow, stop.” You pushed his mouth away. “Not so rough.”

“Sorry.” He chuckled against you. “Am I going to get a taste of you?”

“If you listen.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“You’re a liar.” You laughed, sitting back on his hips to look at him after locking the second cuff.

“What’s first, my queen?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, slowly lowering his eyes down your body.

“First—” you started, sliding yourself back so you were sitting in between his legs, “—I get my fun.”

You lowered your lips to his thighs. There was a lot you loved about Daichi. He was caring, the most attentive husband, an incredibly loving father, unbelievably considerate, but none of that compared to his thighs. His glorious thighs. Thick, rippling muscle that was spongy and soft to the touch, he had legs like a horse and you loved leaving your mark all over them.

Nothing got you going like a mouthful of his soft skin as you sucked it between your teeth, running your tongue all over it and gently pulling away until it released from your lips with a pop. It has been a while since you both had any time together, so his legs were clean, a blank canvas waiting for your lips.

As soon as you started, it was difficult to stop. Daichi was groaning above you and your hand instinctively moved in between your legs, just as it always did. Unfortunately, Daichi knew this about you and couldn’t fight the temptation. He quickly wrapped his legs around you and you yelped as he lifted you up, bringing your body closer to him.

“Daichi!” You shrieked and he laughed at your surprise, setting you back down. This definitely wasn’t his first time doing this and each time it surprised you just as much as the last.

There was no competing with the strength of Daichi’s thighs. You knew this. The only way he wasn’t going to win was to take him out of the game completely.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to tie your feet too.” You warned, looking up from back in between his legs.

There was no way you weren’t going to be tying his legs. You could see it in his face. The playful look in his eyes was as clear as day and when you relaxed your body, ready to lean forward, he lifted his legs again, trying to trap you in between his thighs.

“Daichi!” You tried not to raise your voice in fear of waking your youngest, but instead whisper-yelled at him and he laughed.

“I’m sorry baby. You know I can’t resist you.” He explained, as if that was a perfect excuse for disregarding what you had just said. You stood up from the bed, acting like you were done playing for the night. “Baby. Baby no, I was kidding. I’m sorry. Really, I’ll listen.”

“Oh, I know you will.” You bent down, reaching under the mattress for the rope you prepared beforehand and tightened it around his ankle. He was confused enough by what you said that he really didn’t noticed what you were doing until it was already done and you made sure both of his feet were secure. When you turned around, Daichi was biting his lip, watching you.

“Looks like you’re calling all the shots tonight.” He smiled, his hips rolling forward slightly, his erection full and stiff, and you were a little surprised at how willingly he was giving you control. “What’s next?”

You smiled and stepped up onto the bed, standing over him. His eyes dropped to your black lace panties under the negligee and he licked his lips, lowering his head to get ready for you to sit on his face.

“Is this what you want?” You asked him, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. Sliding the panties down your legs, you watched him nod, his mouth opening as you squatted down. He frowned, looking confused when you sat on his chest and you laughed before putting the panties over his head, covering his eyes so he couldn’t see.

“Baby.” He grumbled and you backed up to sit in between his legs.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen.”

You sat silently for a little, watching him before you sat on your knees. His cock was bobbing by itself, hoping for anything to rub against it and you smiled as the tip leaked.

You leaned over, just enough that he could brush his hip against your arm and your hand went in between your legs again, drawing slow circles around your clit. It didn’t take long for Daichi to know what you were doing. Your breathing changed and the wet sounds of your fingers running through your folds has his cock twitching.

Your eyes were fluttering closed the closer you got. Your body was hot now, ready for release whenever you wanted it. You slowed down your movements and then quickly sped up, trying to force the orgasm to come faster and you let out a sigh.

“Fuck.” Daichi whispered as he dropped his head back onto the pillow at hearing you moaning. “Does it feel good baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You could barely speak anymore, you were so close.

“Aww come on, you’re not even going to let me taste you.” He whined. Gosh sometimes he was just like a child. Your fourth child. Such a big baby.

“Maybe I’ll let you if you quit complaining.” You went back to working your fingers over yourself, your pace quickly moving back to where it was and you let out a small whimper, your hand moving to grip Daichi’s thigh and squeezing the bulky meat.

You were paying as much attention to him as you could, trying to focus on yourself, but also watch his movements. He didn’t really like being edged, but he could handle some teasing and you knew just how far you needed to go to get him to beg.

“Daichi.” You whispered, the sound of your voice saying his name had his thigh muscles clenching and the silence of the room was starting to fill with the wet sounds of your hands rubbing over your clit.

“Yeah baby?” He licked his lips. His body looked calm on the outside, but you knew better. His legs were restless, feet sliding as much as they could over the sheets, his breaths were getting shallower and you watched as his erection stiffened, growing a little bit more.

“This feels so good.” You moaned and his hands started fighting the handcuffs against the headboard as he groaned.

“Please, baby. Please just let me watch.”

“I’m almost done Daichi.”

“Just use me then. Here… here.” He adjusted how he was sitting as much as he could, which wasn’t much, bending his knee slightly. “Use my thigh. God, I need to feel you.”

“You want me to come on your thigh?”

“Please, God, yes please just come all over my thigh.” He begged, his head falling further back as his hands and feet tried to pull against the restraints. You sat up quickly and climbed over his thigh, setting yourself back down and grinding. “You’re so wet.”

He clenched his jaw, pulling against the cuffs as you grinded down on him. You were almost there. There was a burning pit in your stomach and you had to ignore Daichi under you, squirming to get closer to you and to get you to try and touch him. There was no way you could orgasm with his constant movements so you did your best to block him out. Instead focusing on his thigh and the way it felt as you rubbed over it, your swollen clit in constant contact with his skin.

You whined out, a breathy moan pushing out as you moved faster over his thigh and you heard him become quiet. His voice silenced as he started taking quicker breaths, listening to you. When you finally felt the cord inside you snap, your whole body went stiff, roughly grinding yourself on his thigh as pleasure surged from your core to the rest of your body until you were left shaking and panting over him.

“Please baby, I’m doing my best,” he whispered. “I need to be inside you.”

You looked up at him and back down at his body. Leaning forward just a bit more, you gave one tiny lick up the back of his cock, a lick he wasn’t expecting and he inhaled sharply, whimpering slightly until you made your way up his chest, kissing his collar bone and neck as you lowered yourself onto him.

Daichi let out a loud, satisfied sigh while trying to lightly thrust into you. His feet were tied tightly enough that he couldn’t really get much leverage to lift himself so any and all of the work was going to be done by you and you smiled at the power you had.

“Do you want me to move, baby?” You spoke quietly into his ear.

“Yes. Yes, please.” He nodded, already panting for air and desperate to be fucked. His body was relaxed, calmly letting himself enjoy what you were doing to him. You leaned in to kiss him, his mouth gladly accepting your lips and tongue against his. He moaned as you clenched your pelvic floor muscles around him and smiled into the kiss, wishing he could pull you closer, but only being able to pull lightly against the cuffs.

You smiled as you sat back, watching his upper body jerking forward, his face contorting as he urged his orgasm on.

“Faster…” He moaned. You could see it in his face how close he was. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open, he was limited with how much he could move, but just by his face alone, you could tell he was right there. “Come on baby, faster.”

This was your moment to get what you wanted.

“Call me daddy.” You teased him, running your hands up his chest and he inhaled sharply at the touch.

“What?” He turned his head to you and smiled, thinking he didn’t hear you.

“I said…” You leaned down, whispering in his ear. “Call me daddy.”

“Why do you want me to call you that?”

“I just want to hear it.” You shrugged, your tongue tracing his jawline.

He was definitely thinking about it. He knew he wanted you to move faster, to feel that release that’s been building ever since you tied him up. The wall holding back his orgasm was blazing hot and if you sped up just a tiny bit, his body could break through it.

“Baby, you want me to… to call you…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

“To call… me… daddy.” You smiled, but he just looked at you, his eyes covered, but you knew where he was trying to look. It wasn’t going the way you wanted so you pouted. “Fine.”

You sat up and slowly started to get off of him and he pulled against the cuffs, trying to lift his hips to stay inside you.

“Wait! Wait!” You stood up fully and any contact his dick had with you was gone as you looked down at him. “Okay, okay! Daddy! Daddy! God, daddy please just fuck me!”

He was fighting against the cuffs as he twisted and turned his body, hoping for any contact with you at all. See, the thing with Daichi was that while he did love sex, he lived for the orgasm. Yes, he enjoyed the other pleasure and intimacy, but he would do anything for that release. Anything.

You smiled and slowly sat yourself back down, lining up and pushing him through your entrance again. The slight squeeze had his head thrown back with a groan.

“Yes baby. Ugh, you’re so perfect. You’re so good.” His body relaxed as you slowly lifted yourself and sank back down, gently rolling your hips as another groan slipped from him.

“Is this what you wanted baby?”

“Yes.” He nodded desperately, his mouth hanging open, eyes still covered with your black lace panties.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy. That’s what I want. Give it to me daddy!”

You bounced yourself harder over him, making sure to roll your hips for him and you could see it in the half of his face that wasn’t covered that he was enjoying it, slowly losing himself. Each time you dropped down, you ground harder into him and he was moaning, his head moving back against the pillow only to lift back up as he fought against the urge to move with you.

“Faster daddy! I’m begging you, please go faster.” He moaned.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You sped up your bouncing and you watched his breathing pick up, his jaw slacking, and his face turning red.

“Thank you. Thank you.” He breathed and let out the sweetest sounding whimper before his body shook and his head fell back. Even with his movements minimized, he still managed to buck his hips forward, his orgasm shooting through his body. His cock was pulsing inside of you as he lost control of himself, the pleasure he’d been waiting for took over his body and every inch of him felt nothing but amazing bliss as his skin tingled under you. With a final grunt, his body relaxed into the bed and he gasped for air.

You leaned forward and tugged your panties away from his head and smiled at him. He had the cutest little grin on his face as he looked at you.

“Uncuff me.”

“I kind of like you like this.” You laughed.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, but you promised me a taste.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Uncuff me. It’s my turn to be in charge.”

“Why are you like this?” You rolled your eyes, reaching over to uncuff his hands from the bed post.

“I can’t resist you.” His lips moved to yours as soon as he was free from being restrained and he sank his face into your neck as his hands roughly massaged your butt. “Let’s make another baby.”

“How are you getting hard again when you literally just came?”

“When has that ever stopped me?” He laughed into your neck as he laid you down on the bed.

.....

taglist: @chaotic-nick​ @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @serostapesweat​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​

[kitviolet]

✨You’ll be the death of me✨

- I have been attempting to write a Steddie fic, so here is the first chapter. Lots of soft bois and angst. Please enjoy!! More chapters are coming!!!

Chapter 1

It had been a month and two days since they had defeated Vecna. The night they saved Nancy and sought refuge in Hopper’s cabin had been the first night since this all began that Eddie felt even remotely safe. It was all four of them, crowded into the small lodgings. They decided to stay together, in the same room, so they pulled Hopper’s mattress out onto the floor by the couch. Eddie found himself sitting up next to Steve as they watched over their sleeping friends. Steve, injured and wincing at the slightest movement, and Eddie, leg bouncing anxiously as he tried to keep his eyes off Steve’s fresh bandages, clean, but soaked in a dark brown blood. Their knees were touching, and both men found a quiet comfort in the warmth and pressure. Steve looked over at where Nancy and Robin had curled up together on a mattress on the floor. Robin snoring lightly, and Nancy finally looking peaceful. Steve let out a deep sigh and leant back, but immediately gasped from the pain and doubled over.

“Shit man,” muttered Eddie. “It’s time for more pain relief.”

And with that Eddie patted Steve’s knee and got up, tiptoed around the sleeping girls and made his way to Hopper’s old bathroom. He found some paracetamol, and groaned that he couldn’t find anything stronger. He grabbed the bottle and made his way back to the couch.

“Hey.” Breathed Eddie, and Steve looked up at him. It was dark, but Eddie’s eyes sparkled with a kindness and concern that Steve hadn’t seen before. It took him by surprise. Eddie crouched down and took Steve’s hand, shaking the bottle until three pills fell out. He stayed there, squatting, watching as Steve fought to swallow. Eddie looked at the bruises and cuts around Steve’s throat. Without thinking he reached out and hovered his calloused fingers over the wound. Robin had cleaned it out with antiseptic which she had found in Hopper’s bathroom.

“Harrington. You poor sod.”

“Yeah,” laughed Steve, running one hand through matted hair, and one hand held his side. “Life in Hawkins is a bit like that these days.” He patted the couch next to him and Eddie set himself down. Steve had turned to look at him. A moment passed when they just looked at each other. Eddie might be wrong, but he thought he saw Steve’s eyes flicker down to his lips for a moment.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Steve turned away, furrowing his brow.

“You were really brave today,” he began, and Eddie watched as he carefully formed his words.

“We have all done this a few times, and you’ve really been thrown into it. It’s rough. It so, so rough. You’re dealing with it really well.”

Another moment of silence, and Steve turns to look back at Eddie. And did he just look at his lips again?

“Ahhhh thanks. I don’t feel like I’m handling it all that well to be honest. I...” he hesitated, glancing over at Steve and looking away again.

“I still see Chrissy in my sleep.”

Steve nodded. “I get that. The nightmares.”

They had a moment of quiet contemplation and grief. Eddie leant back on the couch, stretching his arms out over its back, behind Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m tired.” Breathed Steve.

“I’m so tired.” And he lay back slowly, resting his head against Eddie’s arm. Eddie felt his heart swell, and vowed to stay still until Steve had drifted off. After not too long, Eddie could hear Steve’s breathing get heavy. He looked over and a deep, swirling feeling gathered in the base of Eddie’s stomach as he watched Steve sleep. It climbed up through his throat and pulled air in as a gasp. He let his head hang back and groaned quietly. He took another look at the sleeping figure beside him, and a small smile crept across his lips. ‘Fuck’, he thought, carefully withdrawing his arm, standing up quietly and making his way outside. The cold air hit his face and made itself into his ears, which he now realised were burning hot. He dragged his feet to the stairs and slumped down, resting his arms on his knees. Eddie’s eyes flickered closed. He breathed deeply, trying to fight the images playing through his head. And for the first time, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

[raggaraddy]

Play Pretend

Summary: When the chance comes to escape you're are going to play it smart to make sure you get away.

Trigger Warnings: Murder, gun usage, abuse, violence, kidnapping, imprisonment.

Jungkook

Yandere!Jungkook

Mafia!Jungkook

It's been about a week since Jungkook locked you in. Only now were the bruises on your ribs going down. And no matter how quickly he shifted back to normal and calmed down the damage was done, he’d shown you a truly terrifying side of himself and you knew he couldn’t be trusted anymore. The worst of it was that he never even feigned an apology. He didn’t think he was in the wrong to react like he did. He just went from one day to the next like nothing was different.

You felt so stupid. You had thought there was something not right with him the first time you met him. But instead of trusting your gut, you got swept up in his good looks and charm. And that lack of discernment is the reason why you've been trapped in his house for a week now. You tried to tell him that people would be looking for your eventually. But with full certainty, he assured you that wouldn’t be the case. You weren’t sure why or how, but you knew that he 100% believed it. And that made your situation even more despondent.

This evening, for the first time in 8 days, Jungkook finally left the house.  You had thought it might be a chance for you to look for an escape, but to your disappointment, he left one of his��‘employees’ with you.  You still can't pinpoint what he does exactly, but all of the people you have seen with Junkook have a similar dangerous vibe. This one is no exception. Tall, strong, large and mean-looking. It completely dashed your hopes of getting away.  That was until you heard the clear and threatening order Jungkook gave him.  For the second time, you were seeing this sweet kind young man have men double his age, who were larger and tougher looking than him, look weak and fearful. The exact wording slipped your mind, but the gist of it was if anything happens to you while he is gone, Jungkook will violently kill your guard.

After a few hours of stirring, half hesitant to try and half trying to perfect the idea, you finally decide you need to at least attempt a prison break.

Calling the guard, you drop to the bedroom floor, curling yourself tight, clutching your ribs. You knew your bruises were still purple and black there, so it would be the most convincing place to say you had pain.  After a few screams, the man dashes in his face draining at seeing you writhing on the floor in agony.

“What happened?” He barks.

“I fell. It hurts.” You wheeze, knowing it's best to keep your details simple to maintain the act.

He bends to help you up and you wail a faked cry of pain, applying your years of watching dramas into practice. You’re not sure how believable your act is, but the man is so swept up in the panic of the moment, it doesn’t really matter.  As he gets you onto the bed, you pull up your shirt slightly exposing your marks and bruises and it's the tipping point.  He goes from worried to frantic.

"Sh-" he whispers the exclamation under his breath. He looks to ponder his options, and you hope your theory is right and that he is too afraid to call Jungkook first. "Alright, you need to go to the hospital." He declares. You have to lean more into the pained acting to stop a smile from coming onto your face, thankful that your plan is so far working.

The guard picks you up bridal style and carries you downstairs with an urgent patter to his steps. Getting you into the back seat of the car, he rushes into the front and begins driving. Despite his craze, you're surprised to see him driving so steadily and rationally. Abiding the road rules and sticking to the speed limits.

You think your best, or only option would be to get some privacy with Doctor at the hospital and tell him everything. Beg him to call the police. The one risk for going to the hospital is the possibility of the guard not leaving you to talk to the Doctor.

"Fuck." The man hisses under his breath as his phone begins to ring.

The call connects to the cars Bluetooth as he answers, blasting Jungkooks voice in surround sound.

"I'm at home, but you're not. Where are you?" He questions with an ominous tone. The drivers head flicks back to you, his uncertainty flashing through his eyes as he decides what or how much of the truth to tell.

"She hurt herself. Her chest. So I am taking her to the hospital." He reveals everything with a shake in his voice.

Jungkook bursts into a sharp laugh, the sudden piercing of it through the speakers making both of you jump. "She's fine. Bring her back now."

You spring upright, eyes wide. The car rolls to a stop at the traffic light, the man's gaze meeting yours in the rear-view mirror. Jungkook knows! He knows you're faking it. He's going to hurt you again when you get back. You can't let him take you back.

The second the car stops, you don't pause to think, yanking on the door handle and throwing yourself out of the car. Because it is nearly midnight, the suburban area is desolate, but there are a few houses that still have lights on. You know your best option is one of those.

Breaking into a sprint you run across the main road over the island and towards the first house you can see any sign of life in. In a mad frenzy, you begin to pound on the door, calling and screaming for help, begging for them to open. Behind you, you can feel the guard quickly catching up and your pleading gets more desperate.

Giving you pure relief, the front door opens on a middle-aged man looking nearly as petrified as you. You don't wait to explain or discuss anything instead barge past him, hurling yourself through the open door. You spin on your heels, slamming the entrance closed. It doesn't shut though. The full body of the guard powers through the door colliding into you and the homeowner, knocking you both onto the ground in a painful blow.

With a heavy breath and a wild look in his eyes, he stalks over top of you, sealing you all in. The guard pulls a gun and his phone from his pocket, the call to Jungkook seeing to still be active. "Alright, I have h-" he speaks into the receiver, pointing the weapon at the man, rendering him frozen.

"Where are you?!" Jungkook yells, making the guard pull the phone from his ear. Even from a few meters away you can hear his hostile voice loudly and clearly.

For 10 minutes you are sat in the living room numb with fear. You could hear how furious Jungkook was. You can see how mad and nervous your guard is, and you can feel how confused and terrorised the older man is. Without movement, the three of you are stuck in a tense stare off, none able to speak.

On the 11th minute, there is a knock on the front door. The guard peers through the side window and his breath catches in his throat.

You start to physically shake as Jungkook comes in with two more men at his back, looking like an uneven, unsettling mix of calm and intense. Walking in with his hands in his pockets, he takes the size of all three people in the room.

"You left the car in the middle of the road?" He asks the guard, his gaze staying fixed on you.

"Yes. I had to chase her down." He tries to explain shortly.

"Ah," Junkook muses with a click of his tongue. "Get rid of it." He orders one of the other men who came in with him.

The guy nods, rushing to follow the instruction. As the door slams shut, Jungkook walks towards you squatting to your level. "Your ribs hurt Kitten?" he asks with a faked sweetness. He leans down digging his forefinger and thumb into your ribcage. It brings back the true pain of your injuries, making you squeal and writhe while trying to get away from him. His hand wraps around your side, keeping you in place and pushing you to the floor, crushing and gripping your wounds, bringing shortness to your breath and tears to your eyes.

After tormenting you for a few miserable minutes, Jungkook scoffs out a short laugh, standing back up nearly stepping on top of you. "Pick him up" He orders your guard, gesturing toward the homeowner on the floor behind you. He does so, having to hold a lot of the man's weight to get him to his feet. "Anyone else in the house?"

"No, I don't think so." The guard replies with uncertainty.

"Well you're not exactly reliable, are you?" Jungkook sneers.

You jump as two incredibly loud bangs echo out. One after the other, both the guard and the older man drop to the floor. Looking up at Jungkook horrified, he is standing over you holding a gun having just shot the two men. Your stomach is churning at the realization of what he just did. There is only a weak grunt and then silence from the older man, his body slumping still and lifeless. But from the other, there are continued struggled and gasped moans. Jungkook coolly walks to him, another shot firing and the pained sounds stop. Only silence and the pulsing ringing in your ears from the sudden blasts remain.

You're motionless. Panting broken breaths. Too in shock to move. Too scared to do anything. You can't believe this is happening. You're sure you're about to die.

"Go check the house." Jungkook kneels down beside you again, throwing the order to the second man that came with him.

With just the two of you left in the room, he comes closer, speaking lowly and gruffly in your ear. "See what you did Y/n." He motions to the side of you, to the murderous and violent display. You can't bring yourself to look. You know the sounds of those two men will haunt you for the rest of your life. You don't want to add the gruesome image of it as well. "Do want to play? You want to pretend to be in pain?" His hand roughly brushes the hair from off your face. He switches the gun from one hand to the other, his now free left hand digging tightly into your jaw, turning you to him. "Well, we're going home Kitten. And you won't need to pretend when I'm done with you."

[elysianslove]

hi! may i request hcs of the haikyuu boys watching/helping their significant other workout? maybe yoga or just a regular workout? would be sweet if it was all of them but i know there are so many, so mainly kuroo, kageyama, bokuto, oikawa and nishinoya <3 thank you!!

hi anon!! i’m sorry i didn’t do all the boys, but i wrote for the specific boys you requested. if you, or anybody else, wants these hc’s for other boys i’d love to do them hehe. hope you enjoy!

kuroo tetsurō

he’s so excited as soon as you’re like “hey wanna work out together”

like his whole body freezes up and then he just

screams

if you’re already like pretty athletic, he makes everything a competition

but doesn’t actually compete

he just wants to watch you 😏

no fr he’ll be like “i bet i can do more squats than you”

and then just doesnt squat and only watches you squat

this mf 😭

he gets way too excited and puts an alarm at 4;30 am to text you/wake you up to go on a run with him

you: see that’s what we’re not gonna do

if you’re not very athletic or you’re just starting to get accustomed to working out

he is so. encouraging

like sickeningly so

tries his best not to overwhelm you and does really basic workouts with you

but also if ur laying face down on the ground crying “i dont wanna do this anymore” he will NOT have any of it

good luck unsubscribing to his services

he just wants to see you succeed 🥺 👉🏼👈🏼

cooks you the best healthy meals you dont even feel like youre missing out on anything

now

yoga

listen he’s so cheeky

he’s so mf TOUCHY

couples yoga with kuroo >>>>

it’s so funny bc this man is so strong he can do pretty much any move that requires any type of strength but pull out the flexibility card and he will pass away on the spot

he also just likes to watch you do yoga

not just bc he’s a pervert

but also bc it’s just interesting to see you in your zone

buys you yoga pants just bc <3333

“u just wanna stare at my ass”

“how dare you i would never objectify my gf”

stares at your ass <3

kageyama tobio

remember when i said kuroo would make everything a competition but wouldn’t really care

kageyama cares

he’s so annoying youre just trynna have fun working out w ur bf but here he is trynna kill u bc he’s so much better at everything

okay but if YOURE better 🤑

it pisses him off at first but then he realizes he’s pissed off bc ur so hot and make his spine tingle

work outs with him are intense as fuck

like he goes all out

but then he helps you stretch and 😏 it’s worth it

if he’s helping you workout, he’s kinda harsher than he intends to be

and when he realizes that yk maybe he’s being a lil extra

he apologizes and just asks how you wanna do it

spends the night researching hehe 

is encouraging in a demeaning way like “do you WANT to regret not working harder” ur like tobio i swear on my life i will start crying

when y’all are done he does like give u a small kiss and the sweetest smile “good work” and it makes it all the more worth it

about yoga though

when he first watched u he was horny hwbwjwks

he was like oop what is this feeling

but then it clicked lmao

avoids watching you unless you’re doing it privately so he can embarrass himself less

if you invite him to join you it’s just rigorous head shaking but he loves you sm he’ll do anything for you

he just follows your lead and is listening so attentively and is trying to mimic your movements exactly and is so awe oh my god he’s so CUTE

once ur done and ur both just laying on the ground you roll over and kind lean over him and give him a kiss “thank u for doing this with me”

“we should do it more often”

not horny just in love with you <3

bokuto kōtarō

so hyperactive good luck keeping up with him

he’s also like

built

LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN. HIM???? no way he doesnt go crazy w the work outs

if you suggest to work out together he’s so excited and he just does everything normally the way he does at 2.5x speed and you’re just like bruh 🧍🏻‍♀️ slow down

you do eventually find your own rhythm that kinda matches his own

and it’s nice to have him with you because like if you’re at a gym and ur using a device across the room from him he’ll just yell and wave at you and blow you a kiss god i love this dork

after you’re both spent you just sit on the ground across from each other stretching just talking just vibing

gives you a big smooch in between everything if he can

it becomes a really positive addition to your life ngl

if he’s helping you work out

he is actually the fkn BEST

despite him being a work out freak, he doesn’t force that on you in any way

if anything i think he’d be super gentle

so cheerful when encouraging you

and rewards you a lot

too much probably

“20 PUSHUPS BABE !!!! LETS GO MAKE OUT FOR 20 MINUTES”

he doesn’t just say it he really does mean it when he tells you he’s proud of you

loves it when you do yoga

immediately tries to join in

“oouu teach me this move” proceeds to fall on his ass <3

 t’s okay he has a lotta cushioning 😏

he always wants to try the couples yoga moves

he saves them on his phone to show you later and you cant say no bc ur already in gear and the yoga mat is on the ground hehe

(if you watch cody ko and kelsey kreppel’s couples yoga video that’s basically how it goes with you two)

^^^ in one of the moves he has to like lift you up by your arms as youre sitting down and he’s standing and he accidentally just shoves your face into his crotch

you both couldn’t stop laughing until you nearly peed and thats the beauty of love

oikawa tōru

he has to repeatedly ask you if you’re s u r e you wanna work out with him 

if you’re s u r e you can keep up

please hand his cocky ass to him <3 

if you’re athletic, prepare to have him try to one up you every time you do something 

it’s so sweet though cause he’s so determined and he’s sticking his tongue out between his lips and you’re just like baby please what is this 

tells you to lay beneath him while he does push ups so he can kiss you 

you complain about how sweaty he is but really you just want him to take his shirt off <3 

okay two important things i want to go over

one. oikawa does not know when to stop. so, honestly, you probably suggested to work out with him to keep him in check and make sure he doesn’t overwork himself 

please make him drink water and take breaks when necessary :( 

two. his knee :( he would probably need to be very careful and he’ll teach you the correct way to massage it and prep it before he does any critical work 

if you approach him one day about helping you work out cause you’re clueless — yes it will get to his head

but like ??? he’s your boyfriend??? your very athletic boyfriend??? 

who else would u ask tf 😹

anyways he makes a whole like list and shit

organizes it so well with color coding and different handwriting 

keeps you up to date with your progress and always says things like “look how well you’re doing babe!” and gives you a hugeeee hug 

now, oikawa is either weirdly flexible, or not flexible at all

we’re gonna go for the first one for this yoga hc 

joins you randomly and starts doing the poses correctly right away ur like ??? sir ??? 

distracts you. so much. 

“can i have a kiss— another one?— one more— one more babe— okay an—“ 

make out sessions ensued :)

nishinoya yū

actually i think noya would like to be in own zone kinda thing when he’s working out

probably blasting some katy perry in his ears ngl 

but when you tell him you wanna go work out with him?? 

now you’re both blasting katy perry in your ears 

stares. stares so much. provocatively. 

he’s your bf so you get it

but women have come up to you in the gym asking if you’re okay hbwjwkwe

makes you try out his routine while he tries out yours 

“wow babe this is sooo easy” he’s dying dont believe him

you guys probably have a handshake that’s so motivating to do before and after eeekkkk he probably makes you feel SO good about yourself after

takes you to eat the unhealthiest shit he can find after a workout because why not right ? chivalry? undead 😻

if you ask him for help he’ll accept right away

competes with you to help you improve 

“one day babe you’ll be beating me at these with such ease” 

he’s the loud kind of encouraging 

yells a lot

like so much 

body worship all the time <3333

“god u look SO good right now i love you so much” 

this simp i love him sm

anyways. onto yoga 

did i mention he stares 👁👁

because he does 

he already knows you do yoga and he will find out your schedule 

just. likes to watch you tbh 

if you offer to do couples yoga with him he refuses bc he likes the view where he is lmfao 

there are so many tiktoks of him just doing the dances while you calmly do yoga 

it becomes a trend lmfaowjwnsj

anyways yes best supportive bf award goes to noya (actually all of them who am i kidding)

end note; MY BEST FRIEND PAINTED AKAASHI FOR MY BDAY GIFT I STOPPED BREATHING ,,, anyways i hope y’all enjoyed this!! feel free to request some more mwah

[yandere-sins]

Could I request some yandere Sukuna from jjk crushing on one of Yutadoris sorcerer teachers and before she realises it, sukuna has taken over yutadoris body and I’ll let you decide the ending

Thank you for requesting! :3 I hope you enjoy it! Sukuna is second best boy for me from the series so I am always excited for him ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

Up till now, you hadn’t had the chance to build an opinion on the creature that Itadori was. Perhaps, it wasn’t your place to judge him at all, but having been assigned as one of the people teaching him the ways of the Sorcerers, you almost felt obligated to have some kind of opinion.

The truth was, he was a good kid. Anyone with a few social skills could see that. Though he was young, he took what he was doing at the Jujutsu High seriously, and despite being immensely chipper, for someone who would be executed at some point, he wasn’t a bother to have around. Even if this wasn’t the way of life he wanted, he pretty much committed to it now.

And yet, of course, you feared him.

You feared that someday, he wouldn’t be able to keep the threat residing inside of him at bay. You feared he was a ticking bomb on two legs, no matter how well he appeared to have it under control. No one could assume what was going on beneath that carefree expression and cheerful smile. What Sukuna was doing underneath the farce that was this sweet boy.

At first, you thought it would get better the more you knew him. The first meeting had made all hairs on your body stand up straight, but even then, you didn’t run from it. You might have looked pretty disgusted the first time Sukuna spoke up through a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, but otherwise, you had kept your composure.

No matter if you were a graduate from this school, or if they trusted into your abilities enough to teach the kids, or if you believed in yourself and your skills, it all meant nothing when you thought that you’d have to restrain the monster hiding inside of Itadori. How long would you be able to withstand it? A second? Two? You could be relieved if Sukuna made a quick process of you, but you feared he wouldn’t.

Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Itadori jotting down the things you were writing for him on the board. A yawn escaped him casually before he went back to taking his notes. He looked just like any other student. As if he was taking a typical class on an everyday topic, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You knew you were being watched.

The thought that it wasn’t Itadori who watched you was actually worse than if it was him.

Sighing, you brought your eyes back forth to the blackboard, simply hoping that it was just your imagination running wild. You really, really did not want it to be true. However, sorcerers were specialists when it came to cursed spirits. You should have known better than to push away your intuition like that.

On the other side of the room, Yuji couldn’t help but wipe some sweat off his brow, relieved that you didn’t see it. Sukuna - as always - was a pain in the ass to deal with. If he wasn’t running his mouth, he at least seemed to think he deserved to see what was going on, eyes crawling over Yuji’s skin no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

Turning his head, shielding the eyes with his hand - nothing ended his attempts. Yuji was so glad that you were focused on your task of teaching him, refusing to spoil him with your gaze all the time. Why Sukuna decided to take an interest in you, not even Yuji had been able to get that question out of the cursed spirit. However, every lesson it got worse. Usually, Sukuna would stay put if it wasn’t Fushiguro that Yuji was talking to, but you seemed to make him restless.

Catching a glimpse of the clock over the door, he sighed in relief. Only ten more minutes left before this would be over once more. Even though Yuji had no problem talking, you and he had yet to really get to know each other. You were careful, and with Sukuna acting up, so was Yuji. He almost expected you to not like him very much for apparent reason, so how in the world could he have explained to you what was going on without it freaking you out?

“Hey, I think you shouldn’t teach me anymore because Sukuna is stirring up my body!” sounded weird AND suspicious. It would have probably earned him a re-evaluation or execution right away. Yuji knew that if he wasn’t able to control Sukuna anymore, that would be his end, and he had yet to reach his goal. He should have told you then and there, but something held him back.

Something that decided it was time for more action than sitting out this precious time with you.

Yuji’s hand tensed before it drove forward hard, letting go of the pen between his fingers. With a tender click, it fell to the ground, rolling towards you and catching your attention. Surprised, you glanced at Itadori, who smiled nervously at you, clutching his own hand, and you raised a brow, wondering if he was having a cramp or something.

Picking up the pen, you walked over to your student to return it, putting it in front of him on his desk, as Itadori managed an awkward, “Thank you!” while trying to take it. His movements seemed unnatural, sort of revolting as you could see his muscles tense and release beneath his skin. This was weird, right? You weren’t imagining things this time, or were you?

The answer was taken from you as his hand suddenly flinched, body jolting over the table to grab for your wrist, and you barely had the time to react. You knew what you had to do, jujutsu was like second nature for you, but the surprise hit harder now that your body was actually trying to have an opinion on Itadori.

Still, you were going in for the kill. If it had to be you or the boy, then you were your priority, no matter how much your heart already seemed to regret having to do this. What you didn’t expect was... he was faster. “Ita--?” you managed to press out before you were hit roughly in your face.

Your eyes shut close as his second hand reached for your head, fingers clawing into your hair and skin, sinking into the hollows of your skull and digging in. Despite it all, you managed to open your eyes again, one covered by the palm and clouded in darkness, the other one staring right into what you hoped - and at the same time feared - where two red irises staring back; Two that belonged to the same face, but different pairs of eyes.

“Unfortunately, I think this lesson ends prematurely. A shame, I do like watching you even if it’s just from the back.”

Even though you could not assign the voice to anyone you met before, your body froze up almost instantly as you watched the face back away from you, showing you half of a lopsided grin. The expression spreading out on his face was none you would have thought Itadori was capable of. “You can’t blame the boy, he was trying so hard to keep me away from you,” the person before you spoke, and the unappreciated realization of who was standing in front of you took over your mind.

Sukuna.

Almost instantly, as you thought his name, black marks began to spread over Itadori’s skin, crawling deep down to his chest and appearing back on this arms. “I finally found a fine woman, and yet it took me months to get to you. We have to commend him for that, don’t we?”

The more he talked, the less you felt incapable of moving. Despite the fear feeling like a blizzard freezing you up, you warmed your body with thoughts of who you were. You were a graduate of this very same school. You had survived so many spirits, but seen so many good men fall. If this was your turn to die, you wouldn’t go down like prey in the eyes of your hunter.

Gripping his wrist with both your hands, his grip tightened unbearably so, but you pressed the words out of your mouth anyway. “What do you want?” you brought forth through gritted teeth, and Sukuna’s lips curled into an almost pleasant, yet condescending smile. “Just you,” he explained, suddenly letting go of your face, making you stumble forward.

But the next moment, you felt his pointer against your forehead. In a wondrous moment of clarity, you realized what was going on. You’d not let him have his way and give that spirit what he wanted, but it was too late to make use of your abilities and blow off his arm or your own head in an attempt to flee. All you got was darkness and the feeling of everything around you collapsing to the ground as you blacked out.

 “Fuck,” you winced as your mind slowly regained conscience. The ground you were laying on could only be described as fluid, but it wasn’t wet at all. Nevertheless, when you opened your eyes, you jolted up and into a seat, seeing all the red that covered the surroundings. If not for the buzzing energy of this place, you might have thought you were dead. With the memories of the happenings returning to you as you tried to remember, you wished you actually were.

“Finally awake, I see,” a voice called out, amusement and mockery laying in its tone. Your eyes caught the sight of the hundreds of skulls first before it managed to lift high enough to see the special grade cursed spirit splayed out enthroned on them. “Welcome to my world,” he grinned, and it made a shudder run down your spine while you began glancing around carefully.

“What did you do?” you asked, seeing nothing but darkness and bones wherever you looked. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, so many questions,” Sukuna sighed, your head snapping forward as you heard footsteps in front of you. “Isn’t it great that we’ll have a lot of time to clear them up?”

You didn’t react to this, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you would humor him. Still, you eyed his hand suspiciously as he squatted down, reaching out to caress your face. You almost feared a cut from his sharp nail along your cheek, but nothing happened, and you noticed his eyes almost transfixed on his finger on your skin. “Where’s my body?”

“Safe,” he mumbled, appearing to be in thought. But just as quickly, his eyes snapped up to meet yours again. “Figured it out already, haven’t you?”

“What could someone like you want from my soul, even dragging it here for no apparent reason?”

“Told you, didn’t I? I just want you; the rest is a surprise!”

Standing up again, Sukuna spread his arms open as if he was inviting you in to them. “Don’t be so stiff, Darling. We’ll have fun here!”

“Darling?!” you croaked in disbelieve, spouting the words which were absolutely revolting to you. “Don’t worry,” Sukuna chuckled.

“You’ll come to like me soon enough.”

[honeymoonjin]

pairing: namjoon x jimin genre: smut, 18+ readers only word count: 5.1k

summary: namjoon has worked as a bodyguard for an upscale BDSM dungeon for long enough to know that jimin is the most sought-after dom there. it only takes one miscommunication for namjoon to discover firsthand why that is.

warnings: unedited, sexually explicit content, power bottom!jimin, sub top!namjoon, unprotected sex, degradation, light pain play, BDSM dynamics, kinda temperature play, i think that's it but i'm so out of practice so i apologise if i missed something

a/n: this piece came to fruition thanks firstly to the @armyadvocates AAPI Justice and Advocacy initiative, and secondly to the kind commissioner @goldenwallsvol6 on twitter who requested this (i'm so sorry for not including everything you asked for, i got a little carried away kdsjfdssk). please check out the AAPI initiative here, consider donating, and check out the resources that come with it.

-----

Clocking in to work has become such a routine for Namjoon that he often finds himself switching his brain off, preoccupied with half-thoughts as his body runs on autopilot.

He signs in, uses the staff changing room to replace his sweats with the company standard uniform - a tight t-shirt and slim fit jeans, the belt of which he hooks his keys on. He doesn’t actually start his shift for another couple minutes, and so he ducks to the bathroom, chews a breath mint, and stretches before heading out of the office and down the narrow hallway that leads to the den.

In fact, it takes him a few steps into the dungeon before his automatic schedule is disrupted.

It appears Namjoon is entirely alone in the facility.

His steps, taken with heavy-duty boots, echo around the hollow space with nothing but the walls to absorb them. It’s a Thursday night (he consults his phone just to be sure) and he was on the closing shift. On any usual day, he’d be starting work right at the bustling high of the BDSM dungeon, yet he finds himself wandering alone.

Shaped in a rough X, the center of the dungeon is open-plan, with more private spaces forking off. The wing he’s in is generally full of swingers and kinksters making use of costume changing stations and a room full of cleaning supplies and disposables like condoms or wet wipes. It was always the calmest section, but never dead like this.

In a daze, Namjoon glances inside the rooms anyway, half-expecting the place to burst into life at any given moment. But it stays undisturbed, and in no time he’s in the central atrium, weaving through bolted-down couches, benches and racks until he can sink onto a stool at the bar.

Coherent thought escapes him. His brain flails for a reason, but the absurdity of an entirely vacant sex dungeon has him lost for words. After a moment, in restless futility, he stands back up and goes behind the bar, back further into the mini storage/kitchen that he knows features a window.

Outside the narrow, slightly dusty frame is an empty parking lot. His heart sinks, feeling sorely left behind and out of the loop, but a glint catches his eye. Pressing his nose to the glass, he squints and peeks a somewhat familiar vehicle, pulled into the closest park to the entrance of the dungeon.

Namjoon stares pointedly at the Hyundai, racking his brain. God, who was it that had a-

A wooden scrape from behind has Namjoon jumping in violent fright, catching his forehead on the protruding frame of the window. Cursing, he whirls around and glimpses movement further inside. Another drawn-out scrape is followed by a very human-sounding huff.

Heart still racing, Namjoon makes his way out of the storage area and stands behind the bar, seeking out the presence.

“Oh, shit, you gave me a heart attack!” Park Jimin stands off to the left of the room, hands on his hips and head tilted back in relief. “I thought you were a burglar.”

“No,” Namjoon states redundantly, mouth not quite working beyond that. He knew he recognised that silver SUV - every Thursday he watched Jimin hop into it and pull away after a long night of scening. The two had exchanged words often, more than Namjoon could say for most patrons. Being the bouncer for a sex dungeon didn’t lead to that much genuine conversation, but he always appreciated the effort Jimin would put in, hair wet with sweat and lips curved with happy exhaustion but still asking Namjoon if he’d managed to work out whether it was birds or the neighbour’s cat eating his strawberry plants.

He forces himself to check back into the present when current-Jimin cocks his head with a slightly sheepish grin, awaiting an actual explanation. “I, um,” Namjoon stutters, having to avert his eyes to construct anything coherent, “I didn’t realise the club was shut, I’m honestly a little confused.”

Jimin’s smile drops, plush lips rounding in surprise. “Oh, really? Hoseok-hyung said he sent out emails to all the staff. There was a pipe leak so we called off our whole calender until Monday. Did you not get it? We’ve had troubles with work emails getting stuck in spam; something about a sex dungeon really seems to set off the detectors,” the man quips with a jovial lift of his brow.

Namjoon bites down on his tongue, offering up a silent nod of acknowledgement. He’d seen Jimin more times than he could count in black, red, royal purple. In the club he favoured leather, not buckled and studded but sleek and tight, often decorating his lithe body with harnesses, gauntlets and heavy rings instead. More often than not, he’d boast unsmudgable smokey eyes with sharp liner, cheekbones as harsh as they were dewy. It had taken a while, but Namjoon had eventually grown used to the sight, able to prevent chubbing up at the mere sight of his ass as he bent to open his car door.

For some reason, seeing him outside of that whole persona is far more intimidating. Still covered in a light sheen of sweat, that’s the only linker to the Jimin Namjoon is faced with today. He’s got chunky white sneakers weighing down his feet, long overalls rolled up at the cuffs to let some air reach his ankles. The overalls prove particularly problematic to Namjoon, as they don’t seem to have anything underneath. Namjoon can see collarbones, glorious collarbones, and the lean bare sides of Jimin’s torso. If he bent over, Namjoon would probably get a glimpse of his nipples. The thought dampens his mouth with need.

Jimin himself seems unaware of, or at least unbothered by, the way Namjoon stares  him down. Instead, he reaches down to push a cardboard box as tall as his waist across the hardwood floor closer to the bar one shove at a time. “Anyway, you’re welcome to head home. I’ll get Hoseok to add half an hour to your payslip for your troubles.”

“What are you doing here then?” Namjoon asks reflexively, cringing at how loud he’s accidentally pitched his voice.

Jimin’s face is surprisingly round without the stroke of makeup to emphasise dimensions, and when he beams at Namjoon, it softens his whole face even more. “I’m taking advantage of us being closed to install some new furniture. D’you wanna see?” He seems to reconsider, shooting Namjoon a worried look. “It is sex stuff, though.”

“I wasn’t expecting a bookshelf,” he answers honestly, and is rewarded with the bubbling sound of Jimin’s laughter, drowned out prematurely by another shove of the box. “Here,” Namjoon says suddenly, darting out from behind the bar, “let me help.”

At first, Jimin pushes while Namjoon pulls, but after a few grunts of exertion, steps back and lets Namjoon take over, not disguising the way his eyes linger on the way Namjoon’s biceps and pecs flex under his t-shirt sleeve. Obediently, Namjoon lets the bleach-blonde guide him to an open space near the centre of the room, depositing the weighty box there.

With a satisfied hum and a lingering glance at Namjoon’s body, Jimin bends over with a pen from his pocket, using the nib to pop and rip the tape on the box lid, yanking back the flaps with ferocious enthusiasm. He lets out a delighted cry upon lifting a frame of styrofoam out of the box, revealing the goods inside.

One at a time, he takes out oddly-shaped plates of metal, plastic baggies of bolts and screws, and some rubber caps. Kicking the empty box away, Jimin slots his hands back on his hips and grins at Namjoon. “Can you guess what it is?”

Namjoon takes a moment to consider the different sections of stainless steel. The largest isn’t flat, but a rectangle with a slight curve to it, the gentlest arc. The rest come in mirrored pairs, most just for structure, but four of them featuring heavy-duty O-rings. Though he works outside the play area, Namjoon can guess what those are for. “Something for bondage?” he ventures, stomach flipping when Jimin eyes glint with thinly veiled interest.

“A breeding bench,” Jimin explains, squatting to let his fingers trail down the side of one bar, “the metal feels sterile and cold for those that like it. Have you used one before?”

Namjoon feels unsteady on his feet. “No,” he answers, but the softness in his voice betrays his lack of aversion to the thought. But Jimin might think he was a dominant, too, Namjoon worries. Everyone else tended to. “Not yet,” he adds after a moment.

Jimin sucks in a silent but sharp breath, chin lifting. “I could use a hand setting it up. Would you mind…?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, no problem.” Namjoon tries to clear his throat, but the lump of anticipation remains. “Happy to help.”

“Excellent,” the dom beams, fishing around the pieces of styrofoam to locate the printed instructions, handing them to Namjoon. As Namjoon begins to make sense of them, looking over the basic diagrams, Jimin sits down on a nearby ottoman, intended for viewing the other stations, but continuing to face his new help instead. “I’ve been wanting to get to know you more anyway,” he divulges in a honeyed tone.

“Really?” Namjoon glances up from the instructions, feeling the heat of Jimin’s gaze. Even in worn overalls and unstyled hair, the man strikes a gorgeous image, and his posture screams distinguished dominant down to the curl of his fingers. His mere presence has Namjoon feeling off-balance in the most electric way. “There’s not much to know.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jimin replies immediately, deadpan. “Why are you standing outside every night when you’re just as kinky as those of us indoors?”

“Excuse me?”

Jimin leans forward, legs splayed wide and elbows on his knees. His eyes are intently focused, blazing. “For a while it drove me crazy,” he starts, “you looked so familiar. I saw you every evening and couldn’t put my finger on it. But you used to scene here, didn’t you? Years ago.”

Namjoon’s heart stops beating, sitting heavy behind his ribs instead. “You- You’re not meant to approach people you know from the dungeon outside. It’s against the rules.”

“We aren’t outside,” Jimin counters. “I want to know why you stopped. You don’t look happy, Namjoon, seeing others come and go while you’re stuck to your post. Help me understand.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Namjoon stays silent, opening his mouth seeming too daunting a task. After a moment, Jimin swallows hard and sits back again, giving up the inquisition. Namjoon chooses to continue the task at hand, consulting the instructions.

The bench itself is a relatively simple setup. There’s two long cuts of steel in an X below the main panel for stability, four legs with the O-ring bars at either end, and the rubber caps on the bottom to avoid scratching the floor. As he putters around with the nuts and bolts, using a tiny spanner provided in the baggies to tighten them, he feels Jimin’s curious gaze on him. Silent.

Eventually, the silence has its desired effect, and Namjoon lets his internal thoughts vocalise. “I played here for a while. My partner and I ended up going our separate ways, and I wanted to give him space.” He doesn’t make eye contact, pulse thudding and heating the pieces of metal he fiddles with.

Jimin takes a short moment to reply, but it feels cavernous. “It’s been years, then. Hasn’t he had enough space yet?”

Namjoon’s eye twitches. How many nights had he stayed up with that exact question in mind? “It doesn’t feel right anymore. People would know me for who I was then. And I’m- I’m not that person.” His partner, an eager sub with a need for a firm hand, had asked Namjoon one day if he was sure he was really happy being a dom, and it had entirely dismantled the place in BDSM that he’d cultivated for himself. That sub was right, and he didn’t know how to adjust his course to fit his true desire.

So he’d pulled away entirely, unable to fully leave this world, but unsure of whether it still had a spot for him inside it. He just wants to feel what it’s like to let go in the way his subs did.  And as his hands focus on constructing the heavyset bench, his mind wanders deeper in this vein, loose-lipped enough to confess it all to Jimin.

Jimin listens without judgement, not even seeming surprised when Namjoon admits to feeling more submissive, and the lack of reaction is liberating in a way he couldn’t have expected.

It’s not until the final bolt is fastened in place and Namjoon leans back, slightly breathless, that Jimin stands up and approaches him again. He crouches in front of Namjoon, eyes tender and hesitant, reaching out a hand.

Confused, Namjoon holds his out, palm-up, and Jimin takes it carefully, circling his fingers around the narrowest part of his wrist. Still, it’s too meaty for Jimin’s fingertips to connect. He squeezes lightly, carefully, before locking his gaze with Namjoon again, who swears he’s no longer breathing.

“Do you want to try?” Jimin asks. His voice is low, soft but full-bodied. “Do you want to try to let go? Club rules would apply.”

And Namjoon is nodding, and the grip on his wrist is tightening, restraining, and Jimin’s surging forward, lips on his.

His free hand comes up to hook around the nape of Namjoon’s neck. He’s held there, unforgiving, as the dom deepens the kiss. There’s no space between them, just skin on skin, tongue on tongue. It’s uncoordinated on Namjoon’s part, but so calculated and thorough on Jimin’s, like he knows the exact way to unwind him.

Jimin’s fingers scratch up into Namjoon’s hairline. He’d been growing out the length a little for winter, just enough to cover his ears, and it provides leverage for Jimin to grip on and tug, tug, tug in sharp bursts, timed unevenly enough that Namjoon is never ready. Every pull sends an electric shock down his spine, right between his legs.

He’s hard already, achingly so, and it just worsens when Jimin shifts his weight, bringing a foot forward and over Namjoon’s thigh, half-caging his body flush against his.

Jimin’s body is hot, even through the denim overalls and searing when it’s skin-on-skin. Namjoon can hear himself panting when their mouths split apart briefly, but he can’t stop his head from spinning long enough to care.

Before long, a rumbling growl escapes Jimin’s throat, and his teeth find Namjoon’s lower lip, scraping and nipping at the flesh. It’s not until Namjoon’s hand is shaking in Jimin’s grip that he pulls away, eyes wild and alight.

Namjoon must look utterly debauched, with swollen lips, hazy eyes and rucked-up hair, but his cock is screaming to be touched, and his breaths become infused with pleas for more, begging Jimin to touch him.

“God, you greedy little thing,” Jimin remarks in wonder, and a shudder takes over Namjoon’s body. Jimin quirks a brow. “Good? Bad? I don’t know what you like.”

“Good,” Namjoon insists without shame, “oh my god, good. Say m-more like that.”

Jimin hums with a grin, hand on Namjoon’s neck slipping around front to fist his shirt, yanking it suddenly. “Up, then,” he barks, standing himself, “I want you on the bench you built for me. Thank God that body is good for something; it’s not much fucking use now, is it?”

Namjoon’s breath leaves him in a rush, and he gets up shakily, almost tripping over his own feet as he lowers himself back down on the end of the bench. It’s chillingly cold even through his jeans, and he trembles at the thought of touching it with bare skin. Jimin has no such qualms, however, planting his palm on Namjoon’s chest and pushing him backwards, insistently guiding him down without knocking his head on the metal.

His teeth chatter briefly, but it’s nothing compared to when Jimin clicks his tongue and reaches down to strip the thin fabric of his t-shirt off with one fell swoop, the stitches breaking as they’re forced over the broadest part of his shoulders.

Ice erupts across his back and he gasp, shooting up. Jimin’s hand prevents him from getting far, and his breathing grows loud and sharp, shivering violently as his body fights to warm up the steel. The slight arch of it slots perfectly into the divot of his spine, meaning every inch is flush against him.

“You stay where I put you,” Jimin scolds, flicking at a nipple in punishment. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? You, lying here, asking to be degraded by somebody half your size? Pathetic. You’re lucky I’m a giving man.”

“Th-thank you,” Namjoon offers up with wide eyes. He doesn’t know the protocol, doesn’t even know how he should be acting as a sub, let alone as a sub for Jimin. He can barely believe the situation he’s ended up in, but he’s never felt so alive. The cold steel is a wakeup call to sluggish veins, his blood rushing faster than ever, most of it going straight to his dick.

Jimin huffs like he’s not quite pleased with the response - even as his eyes crinkle and glint with satisfaction - and simply hooks a finger into the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans, frowning. “Can’t even get undressed yourself. For goodness’ sake.”

Namjoon’s cheeks burn, and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling so overwhelmed. Though it was years ago, the habit of being in control hasn’t left him, and part of him feels anxious being so vulnerable. Closing his eyes eases that, and Jimin lets him, briefly reaching up to give his upper arm a squeeze, a lilting hum asking the unworded question.

“I’m okay,” he breathes to the darkness behind his eyelids, and the squeeze returns before Jimin straightens up again, fingers yanking impatiently at Namjoon’s jeans, undoing them and yanking them off, taking his briefs with them.

The new level of nudity sends another shock of cold to his system, but this time Namjoon welcomes it with a groan, tilting his hips up so that his cock rests on his lower stomach. His fingers twitch, aching to wrap around himself.

His desire is answered, not with the delicious grip of fingers, but with the hard press of the heel of Jimin’s palm, pinning his hardness down without mercy. A moan dies in Namjoon’s throat as his body tries to curl inwards. A second hand holds him down still, leaving him unable to escape the heavy pressure.

He pants, writhing and toes curling, but Jimin just sighs softly, like he’s more relaxed than ever. “Such a waste,” he drawls, his voice blooming with all the flourishes of a Disney villain, “wanting to be treated like a slut, but what am I getting out of this? Hm?”

“U-uh-” Namjoon has no idea what to say, cracking his eyes open to seek out the comfort of acknowledgement above the level of the scene. His breath is taken away at the sight. Jimin, above him like an avenging angel, golden-haired and glittering with sweat, still fully clothed (as fully as you could call a single piece of denim). He finds Namjoon’s searching gaze and sends him a calm, dreamy smile of encouragement, before twisting his palm against the base of Namjoon’s dick, wringing a strangled groan out of the man. “You can take me,” he pants, filled with the urge to provide, to serve, “take what you want.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side, like this proposition is worth considering. As he makes a show of pondering, he taps his fingers lazily against his cock’s dripping head. Namjoon swallows the whimpers that threaten to bubble up, and forces his hips not to budge. “I’ll be honest with you,” Jimin says finally, “because you don’t deserve sugar-coating. If I was here with a fleshlight or a dildo, I would’ve come already. You’re wasting my precious time, sweet boy. I don’t want you to lay here and simper, I want you to be a good toy for me. So what’s it gonna be?”

Namjoon’s muscles are trembling; from his lips to his toes, he feels like he’s vibrating slightly, restless down to the very atoms that make him up. Jimin is patient, lazily drawing sticky patterns of precum on Namjoon’s abdomen with his pinky finger. Namjoon fights against the primal part of his brain for something coherent, replaying his words. Fleshlight or dildo. Be a good toy. Jimin was offering him the choice to top or bottom, Namjoon realises, and his cock twitches, feeling liberated and thoroughly taken apart with that heady mix of submission and power. He was giving control to Jimin, but never losing his choices.

For a moment, he does consider what it might feel like to let Jimin take him. He’d never bottomed before - at least not for anyone but his own fingers in his experimental years - but if anyone could make him feel safe, he suspected it would be the dom leaning over him. It’s once he really thinks about it that he knows he’s not ready, a thin strand of dread winding around his lungs that won’t go away until he’s stammering to Jimin that he can have Namjoon’s cock if he wants it.

Jimin sucks in a slow, pleased breath, a smile curling at his lips as he lays the weight of Namjoon’s length across the palm of his hand, looking it over. The chill of the steel beneath him is nothing compared to the iced shiver that runs through him upon being inspected in his most private area. Second most private, he corrects. Baby steps.

“I suppose,” Jimin declares finally with a sigh, “this should do. Not winning any awards, though, is it?” Namjoon’s cheeks burn with shame at the comment even as his face scrunches up in disagreement. If there was one thing to be proud of physically, it was that he could always bring his partners pleasure with the equipment he grew into.

Jimin sees the unfiltered reaction on Namjoon’s face and suddenly claps his free hand over his mouth, turning away. The giggle, impish and delicate, doesn’t get as muffled as he probably intended. “Dammit,” he mumbles, “stop being funny, that’s not fair.”

Namjoon blinks, still stark naked and hard as rock beneath the clothed and chuckling dom. “...Apologies,” he says after a pause, “but do you want to- um- are we-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin says, clearing his throat and wiggling the muscles in his cheek to force the smile down. His fingers reach nimbly for the straps that hold his set of overalls on, and undresses down to skin as he takes some deep breaths as if to hype himself back into character. Once he’s done, he swings a leg over the metal bench and straddles Namjoon’s thighs with a swiftness that takes his breath away.

While it may take Jimin a second to slip back into his dom headspace after the break in mood, all Namjoon needs is the feeling of Jimin’s plump ass cheeks settling onto hs lap and he’s being smacked in the face with submission, ready to beg to feel it more intimately.

Jimin doesn’t wait for him to beg, however, rolling his body forward and down, all the way until their cocks are pinned together between their stomachs, and their noses bump. Close enough to kiss, Jimin stays right there, a breath away, and Namjoon freezes, unsure if he’s allowed to close the gap.

Pleased with the restraint shown, Jimin smirks, eyes wandering over Namjoon’s face in pure bemusement, slightly cross-eyed with their proximity. “Most toys can’t kiss back,” he mentions, a hand sliding up Namjoon’s forearm and shoulder to thumb at his jaw, tilting his head back and holding it in place, “so I figure I might as well treat myself.”

“Most?” is the final worried exclamation Namjoon manages to get out before lips are descending on his, and heat erupts.

There’s no way Namjoon could keep up. Not when his face is pressed tightly to Jimin’s, lips nipped at, tongue sucked at, and mouth thoroughly explored. Not when every inch of his front is pressed to Jimin’s, the latter’s nipples hard against the soft, relaxed flesh of Namjoon’s chest. Not when he becomes aware of slow rocking, Jimin grinding their cocks together.

It takes him an unknowable eternity of this to realise that the slow, indulgent groans passed between them aren’t all his, and that Jimin’s shifting motions are brought on by the way he’s reached behind himself with a finger slick with their shared spit, working himself open.

It’s that realisation that becomes the last straw for any of Namjoon’s reserves. He feels so - so passive, not even prepping the man who’s about to take his cock. He’s lying on unforgiving steel, body used as a grinding post and mouth deeply plundered, just a mindless toy, dumbed down to pleasure and need. He isn’t even really aware of his own body where Jimin isn’t touching it; he isn’t too sure where in space his hands are, or what his feet are doing. His lips are for Jimin and his cock is for Jimin and that’s enough to make him light-headed.

When Jimin sits up, Namjoon grunts a bit and fights for some clarity to help line himself up against Jimin’s awaiting body, but the dom just tuts and rebuffs the advances, suiting himself. Part of his weight is on Namjoon’s right shoulder as he props himself up, slowly bearing the rest down so that the head of Namjoon’s cock pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Jimin’s mouth is enough to make Namjoon’s bones shake, wishing he could hear it on repeat, and the dom certainly seems to be doing his best to make it a reality with the enthusiastic way he works his hips down in tight circles, clenching around the intrusion.

Namjoon feels like he’s floating, the hard edges of steel no longer grounding him. He doesn’t lift his hands up to hold onto Jimin, he doesn’t fuck up into him, he’s barely even looking at him with how low his eyes are lidded, but there’s liberation in that inaction.

The pressure to perform is entirely lifted, and he feels the pleasure twofold, once from his own sensation and then again like an echo with every sigh and groan that leaves Jimin’s lips.

The dom has the stamina of an athlete, lifting a leg up onto the metal base beside Namjoon’s hips to gain better leverage, and Namjoon has a front row seat to the way the muscles in Jimin’s thighs flex. They’re corded and thick, such an erotic contrast to the softness of his ass, and Namjoon feels drunk off of it.

He lets Jimin take what he wants, and he feels, and that’s all.

He doesn’t even think, not really, nothing deeper than mindless observation.

Jimin is beautiful, like nobody he’d seen before, and the lack of makeup and unstyled hair certainly doesn’t change that. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and that he’s sharing this experience with Namjoon. He sits up, leaning backwards with a hand on Namjoon’s knee instead of his shoulder, and the first time he plunges down, his whole body is wracked with a violent tremor.

“I’m close,” he pants outs, eyes flicking down to Namjoon, a lazy grin appearing momentarily, onto to be knocked off by an expression of pure euphoria as he swaps the bouncing out for grinding. He rocks his hips back and forth, Namjoon buried deeply inside, and seeks out his own end irrelevant of the body that cock belongs to.

Namjoon doesn’t care, loves the near out-of-body experience he’s having, and wills the pleasure to simmer long enough for Jimin to come first.

When Jimin gets really close, he loses some of the fluidity in his movements and becomes jagged, seizing up more and more until he’s stock still, breaths staccato and mouth wide open. The physical release follows soon after, and Namjoon shudders as hot white paints the underside of his chin and his chest.

Jimin has a hand around himself, tugging out every last drop as he sucks in desperate lungfuls of air, slowly curling in on himself until his burning forehead is on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, chest heaving.

Namjoon reaches his end without even noticing. The pleasure throughout his whole body is so electric that an orgasm is barely a notch higher, more so a spreading warmth throughout his body. Wet where Jimin’s still joined to him, and damp everywhere else with perspiration, but it’s blissful nonetheless.

Jimin heaves himself back upright after a brief interlude, brows furrowed as he glances down at Namjoon. “Did you- oh,” he remarks, shifting a little and seeing the cum that’s split around the base of Namjoon’s cock. He lets out a deep sigh, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he tips his head back. “Okay, bye-bye dom.”

Namjoon’s mind slips back into awareness at a snail’s pace, feeling first the way his throat has dried up a little and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth. Then his voice comes back to him, and he coughs a little, blinking up at the dom above him. “Does dom have a return date by chance? That was… fucking incredible,” he admits.

Jimin laughs, the action causing him to clench around Namjoon. With playful fingers, he reaches down and lightly pinches the fat of Namjoon’s cheeks. “You’re too cute,” he declares, before lifting himself up and off, clicking his tongue at the rush of wetness that drips down his legs. “Far out, it’s like you haven’t nutted in a year.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks heat against his best intentions. “That’s just normal.”

Jimin sends him a sharp look, searching his face. “Holy fuck,” he muses, stalking over to the nearest station to raid a small drawer of wet wipes, “and you’ve been letting that beast sit out in the cold every night instead of coming in here? Masochist.”

It takes all the energy left in his body to sit up, but Namjoon gratefully accepts a fresh wad of wipes and begins to clean himself off. “The beast doesn’t pay the bills,” he quips, already feeling more casual with Jimin after their intense shared experience.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to enjoy its company on your free time,” Jimin offers up, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze with what appears to be a shy streak as he dresses himself.

Namjoon smiles, appreciating the gorgeous sight of Jimin’s body before he covers up. Appreciating even more the way he feels so comfortable in his presence, enough to let go the way he did. “I’d like that.”

[moxfirefly]

I!! Have an request!! If you want, thats up to you! But how about the turtles have a friend (the reader) and no matter what they see hints of or how it seems she just doesnt seem to be in a relationship ever and then leo starts acting "odd" (in love) and one day michelangelo of all people catches leo and the reader in a romantic (or heated) moment! What do you think would happen? How would they handle their older brother in love? 😂 i just thought itd be a funny one-shot

Ok I’ve been wanting to tackle this for a while now and ima do my best for you friend, also I hope this reaches cause I know it’s been tough so I send you lots of love💕

Blue boi all in lovey dovey

Rated Mature (Romance but will a little sprinkle of smut) 18+ Only

Raphael squinted his eyes.

For the past twenty-two minutes he’d been wondering what was wrong with this picture. His breakfast was getting cold and he’d even neglected to smack Mikey’s hand away when he stole a piece of bacon off his place.

Raphael took pride in his observation skills, often he noticed plenty of things in his environment but while Donatello ran commentary on it he usually kept the information to himself. He shared a room with his youngest brother so he knew any odd shift when it came to Mikey. He is very close with Donnie, spending a few sleepless nights by his side while the genius tinkered away at projects, even lending a hand here and there.

Leonardo for all of his hard headed ways and their personality clashes, he felt he knew him well enough too. The leader though, was much more guarded in his emotions which made for some difficult moments to completely gage his older brother.

You on the other hand were an open book, plenty of times he’d spent time with you, getting to know plenty of your ticks and thoughts. Raph considered you a close friend, a confidant he could turn to.

But as you all sat together for a late breakfast. Mikey inhaling his while Donnie’s overworked eyes looked into his coffee cup as if lifes answers laid there, Leo and you were just sitting there, suspiciously.

You were still in your sleep wear, Leo’s groggy movements mechanical as he ate on autopilot. You yawned reaching for a coffee refill and without command or hesitation Leo had pushed the creamer and sugar towards you, going so far to place the exact amount of both in your mug. You had given him a sweet smile, reaching a hand to thumb a crumb away from the corner of his mouth.

Raphael raised a brow ridge, well naturally that could translate to common kindness. You all knew each other, often April had in some form or shape probably done something similar. He poked a few pieces of eggs into his mouth, now he was intrigued.

He picked up a few more instances where his curiosities got the better of him.

For instance one afternoon while you were over he had decided to gather info. Raphael had kitchen duty and you had stuck around to help him out. “What’s up with you?” A common not so invasive question, you shrugged. “Same old, same old” You gathered plates to set the table. Raphael kept his gaze at the task at hand, cutting tomatoes for the sauce he was preparing. “Yeah but have you done anything? Gone out with friends? Maybe found your future husband?” He chuckled even more so when you nudged him with an elbow. “A forget you have a sense humor under all that angst” Raph smiled, the two of you often bickered Iike this.

Truth be told you had never mentioned a boyfriend or a girlfriend, the subject was never really breached. With the amount of time you spent in the sewers with them it never came up if you had some partner or if you even were dating. Raphael added the tomatoes into a pot, you joined his side ready to help with more cutting of condiments.

Then Leo arrived and he felt the air shift, he peaked a glance at you, a small smile playing on your lips. Leo in turn greeting the two of you before he made his way towards the fridge to retrieve something to drink. “Want something?” He asked from the fridge and honest to God Raph was very sure he wasn’t asking him. You nodded extending a hand for the soda he gave you, he leaned against the fridge and chatted you up as nonchalant as ever.

Nothing in the small chat raised any flags, Raph’s sauce almost burning from how intently he was concentrating of quite literally eavesdropping on you two. You laughed at something he mentioned, that was bizarre because Leo was seriously not even funny but he could be biased on that end.

“Your hair looks pretty that way” Leo spoke, a tad bit shyly. Raph stirred the sauce, brow ridges shooting up, ‘real smooth big bro’ he couldn’t help but think. Then again he had probably at some point told April the same thing, well they all had commented on April being pretty in all manners of ways.

But this felt just the taddest bit different?

He excused himself having to get back to whatever he was doing. Raph squatted to get something from the bottom cupboards, he didn’t miss the blush on your cheeks.

“Yer hair does look nice like that” He tested, you beamed brightly at him. “Thank you, you’re very sweet when you put your heart into it” She teased smacking a hand towel at him.

Inconclusive results.

For now.

This stupid notion continued to bother Raphael, curiosity would kill the turtle in this case. He wanted to know if truly something was amiss there and you both being friends he wondered why you just hadn’t flat out told him what was up. Nevertheless he couldn’t drop the bomb on you, you could be motorfide or maybe deny it to high hell. Asking Leonardo was out of the question, he sure as hell wouldn’t say a thing.

So Raphael kept his gaze glued as you parted ways for the night. You gave a hug and kiss to everybody, quite normal for your loving nature. He got his hug and kiss, so did Donnie, April and Mikey. Once you landed on Leo you did the same.

He could’ve sworn you lingered a little more, going so far as to whisper something to him because Leo gave a little huff of a laughter and smiled. He definitely slid his hand away from your lower back quite slowly.

Maybe, just maybe...

One patrol night he got stuck with Leo while Mikey and Donnie were doing rounds on the truck. They were scouting out a bank that was rumored to be hit soon by a group of robbers. Raph didn’t mention you, in fact he patiently waited for these robbers to possibly show up.

Something vibrated and his gaze landed on Leo who was reaching a hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. His concentrated and serious featured softening with whatever he read on the screen. He typed back something quick, shaking his head from whatever image or words or whatever had been provoked out of him. “Everything good?” Raphael asked, Leo nodded as if back to ‘normal’ and that absolutely was suspicious in his book.

That night didn’t yield any resolution and honestly it’s around this time that Raph regrets this little task that had occupied his time. He had originally decided to leave it as inconclusive, at some point You two dummies had to say or do something. He had been rummaging his room for his hand wraps, more than ready to get his nightly workout in order. When he had come up empty handed he exited towards Leo’s room, he always had them which annoyed the red banded brute.

His first mistake was not knocking or making his incoming presence known. A rookie mistake considering he lived with three young adult brothers.

His second mistake was just barging in like he owned the place. An annoyed “Jesus Leo quick taking my shit” spewing out of him.

If mistakes One and Two had been adverted he wouldn’t be standing here, wide eyed and frozen.

Because he really didn’t need to see his brother stark ass naked on top of his best friend who he basically considered a little sister, equally naked to boot. There was a solid fifteen seconds where Raphael didn’t know if he running out was the best option, mumbling a ‘shit my bad’ was better or if covering his eyes and screaming at his brother that he better be a gentlemen to you cause you’re a great gal.

Leonardo’s hands cupped your exposed breast for modesty sake, the need for the ground to dramatically open up and swallow him whole heavy in his mind. You had squeaked when Raph barged in, hands super glued to Leo’s rear and god why couldn’t you scream and let go and scream some more.

Raphael finally turned around, an embarrassed heat breaking over his body as he groaned in disgust. “Shit fuck, sorry sorry! I didn’t see shit!” Oh but he did and oh did he crave bleach. “Raph get out! This is why you knock!” Leo chucked a pillow at his brothers shell. You had finally let go of Leo’s rear, covering your face in mortification. “Hang a sock or something outside then!! I can’t read minds!” Raph bellowed.

Mistake number 3 happened because Raphael was a drama Queen through and through and the shouting only helped to alert his brothers towards the room.

“Can you two not fight for five whole minu-OH GOD SORRY!” Donatalleo had exited as quickly as he had approached the room. Mikey thankfully barely saw anything since Raph and Donnie yanked him out which Leo was thankful, he knew Mikey would never let this situation go.

A very quiet hour passed by.

Nobody wanting to say anything. Mikey had left for the tunnels to skateboard for a while. Donnie had thrown himself into truck repairs not even wanting to discuss what his eyes had briefly seen.

And Raphael had sat on the couch, every few minutes making a face whenever his brain decided to bring back the nights events. He heard movement from Leo’s room, the small pitter patter that belonged to your feet. Raph kept his gaze down, whatever playing on the tv long forgotten, he saw your feet when they tentatively approached the couch.

“Um Raph” Your tone was hushed.

“Didn’t see anything, matter of fact nothing happened” Raph grabbed the remote, you sat down and sighed. “Listen you weren’t the one with your tits out here” You crossed your arms grumbling, Raph almost chortled but then he remembered Leo and simply made a face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and him were a thing? We’re friends, I mean you can do better but you know” He smiled when he felt your elbow smack his arm. “He’s really nice don’t be so mean” You sat back on the corner, Raph looked at you, you were wearing an oversized shirt clearly spending the night.

“Sorry for ah, not knocking” Raph spoke softly.

“Sorry for no telling you I had it bad for your brother” You smirked, enjoying Raph’s disgruntled expression.

You scooted close and hugged his massive arm, Raph smiled. “He better be good to ya... and well, don’t break his heart, he’s an ass but he’s my big brother” You nodded against his arm.

You had stayed for a little before returning back to Leo’s room, the leader was reading on his bed but quickly looked up when you came in. “Everything alright?” He asked tentatively. You nodded climbing into bed and in between his legs to lay on him. “We could’ve so gone a better way telling everybody, at least it’s out and we can just be ourselves” You rested against him, Leo’s chin a top your head.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and smiled. “I’m never living this down but I’m happy we can just be ourselves” He poked your sides earning an earnest squeal from you.

Outside Raphael could hear the quiet giggling and laughter. He was happy for the two of you, it made sense.

Mikey walked in, board in hand and sweaty from skating for hours.

“So Leo loses his V card first, huh brah?”

Raphael groaned.

[nonstoplover]

nightly shared cigarettes ~ ron speirs (band of brothers)

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request: Hello, I’m not sure if you’re up to another Speirs request👀 could you write something of him and the girl that the company has rescued from the german on their way or mission, this is just a loosely prompt that I have in mind haha😉 thank you in advance

pairing: ron speirs x SOE agent female reader

summary: when on patrol in haguenau, soldiers of easy co. find a captured british agent. until further notice she has to stay with them and in the meantime she grows closer with one of the lieutenants, someone who's fully inpressed by how badass she is.

words: 4.9K

a/n: thank you for the request, lovely anon. i'm always up to write anything with our sweet little grumpy kleptomaniac !! i hope you enjoy how i interpreted your request xx

also i just wanna note here how much i honestly respect the SOE agents (special operations executive), i did research on this and i'm- wow.

taglist: @50svibes​ @liebgotttme​

When Webster's eyes fall on the young woman crouching in the corner of the room they've just bursted in, for a moment all he feels is confusion as it fills his mind. He comes to an immediate halt, Martin almost colliding with his back. Soon both their slightly widened eyes move around her - taking in the stains of blood and dirt all around her ripped clothes, the bruises colouring her skin, the disheveled (y/h/c) hair that was probably once in a braid but now is falling in her face, the exhaustion written on her features even as she eyes the newly arrived group of men with careful interest.

Before anyone can say or do anything, she opens her lips and in the loud noise, in a quite rusty voice announces a short sentence. "I'm British."

The paratroopers of Easy share a glance, feeling even more confused than before. Nobody have told them about any British woman being in that building, not even in the whole town of Haguenau. Nevertheless, knowing that they have to hurry, Martin orders his men to get her too, bring her back along with the Germans. McClung leans down to grab her and lifts her up in his arms much easier than he's thought - she's unbelievably weightless, at least compared to the heavy equipment he had to carry around in the past month, or to the weight of his comrades when he had to drag one of them who got wounded out of the firing line.

When they get back to the other side of the river and inside the basement, he places the girl on the ground next to the two German soldiers and then the company seems to forget about her as Jackson's suffering keeps everyone's thoughts busy. Only after the heartbreakingly young boy passes away under the helplessly watching eyes of his comrades is when Jones has the chance to actually get a look at their captured foes - surprised to find a woman sitting there as it's been too dark outside and they've been in too much of a stressful hurry for him to cast even a short glance at the captured three.

He immediately calls Martin over to ask him about it, and after learning all the news the staff sergeant can offer, he sends the closest soldier available to get one of the Captains before squatting down in front of her.

"So you say you're British?"

(y/n) slowly raises her glance at the young man before moving her head in a small, weak nod. "Agent," she mumbles the word almost inaudibly before pausing for a couple long seconds, then adds one more thing. "SOE." And then her eyelids start closing. She's too tired to stay awake. Sleep is a too tempting idea for her to fight it in such a state. Jones calls for Roe, afraid that she might die right there before him - before they get to know any reportable information about her -, but the arriving medic reassures him that she's just on the way to fall asleep.

Speirs comes rushing in soon, casting a swift glance at the broken-looking group of boys as he moves to the back, only coming to a stop when he's directly next to Doc and Jones. They tell him all the - very little - news they're able to and he orders Webster to bring her to the company CP, saying that they'll keep her under watch and that when she eventually wakes up, someone's gonna interrogate her.

As Web's carefully moving with her in his arms to the other building, his ears catch an almost inaudible mutter coming from the girl and he instinctively leans in closer to be able to hear something maybe useful.

"Ich weiß nichts davon- (I don't know anything about it)" her voice cracks and her arm that's not pressed into the man's body jerks violently as she's fighting the obvious nightmare, her head whipping around. "Ich heiße Lotte! (My name's Lotte)"

Webster doesn't know what to do as she shakes unstoppably - should he wake her or not? With his grip tightening around her body to keep her from falling, he tries mumbling a few reassuring words close to her ear in hopes that it would help - and it seemingly does as her twitching around kinda lightens. Arriving to the CP, he lays her on the now free couch - with Lipton finally agreeing with Speirs' words to go to the back and rest in a real bed -, and after moving the blanket gently on her, Web moves back to the other side of the room to sit down there, keeping an eye on her as he was told.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning (y/n) wakes up to the voices of several men quietly speaking around her, and for a few seconds the same edginess fills her body as the one she's been almost constantly feeling in the past weeks, but then her mind finally catches up with her ear and processes the words that are spoken in English - not the German she's used to.

She slowly opens her eyes, squinting at the sudden light even in the dim room and trying to remember where she is and how she got there. Just as faint memories of a grenade explosion, shouting American soldiers and being carried in the arms of someone with gunshots slamming into the ground all around enter her mind, one of the men notices her wakefulness and signals to the others to let them know as well.

(y/n) watches one of them rush out of the room while the rest of the group stays where they've been, on the other side of the room, in a loose circle. With her hands finding support on the sofa next to her body, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, her eyes never leaving the men in case they reacted to her movements. But they don't, all of them stay as still as statues right until someone enters through the doorway - and with a glance his way, she can wordlessly confirm to herself it's not the same one that has just left. The men seem to stiffen and stand straighter before the newly arrived one signals them away and except for one of them they tardily leave the room.

The officer - that one's obvious after a second glance at his uniform and seeing the way he communicates with the others - pulls a chair to the middle of the room and sits down on it facing her, while the other - who's face she finds faintly familiar but has no idea as to where from - stays in the back, leaning against the wall.

"I'm Captain Speirs," the officer says and her eyes focus back on him. "101st Airborne Division of the US Army."

He waits for her to answer, but she stays silent, waiting to hear what else he has to say - but it's hard to start this kind of interrogation for him, not knowing what to do with the woman claiming to be British who was captured by the Germans.

"Your name's Lotte?" First it seems like a statement, but the end of the sentence comes out more like a question and (y/n) raises an eyebrow in surprised confusion. How does he know about that?

"Lotte?" She asks back.

Speirs glances back towards Webster for a moment who simply shrugs, then turns his hazel eyes back to her. "You said that yourself in your sleep."

Ah, damn. This will get her in serious trouble one day - speaking in her sleep, chattering around.

"That's my code name," she nods, only hoping that she won't reveal too much with this information. "As an agent."

"Who do you work for?"

"That I can't tell you, I'm sorry."

Ron raises an eyebrow as a response and (y/n) lets out a sigh. "Look, I really can't say more, the most I can is that I work for the United Kingdom. For the Allies."

"You're British?"

"I am. Born in England."

Ron watches her tilt her head to the side as she speaks the sentence with a curious glint in her eyes. All thoughts that it might be a trap start to fade away the more he hears her obvious accent - that can't be learned if she was actually a German and only pretending to be English. Still, all the secrecy surrounding her, keeping her in a metaphorical fog from his eyes doesn't let the slight doubt disappear as well. When he doesn't say a word for more than a minute, another sigh escapes her lungs and she turns in her seat so her feet hangs off from the side of the couch and her upper body is supporting itself against the back-rest.

"My name's (y/n) (y/l/n), I volunteered to join the organisation in 1943 and had jumped into Germany in March 1944. Got captured by a group of German soldiers this January."

"What were you doing here?"

She turns her eyes to the ground, two parts of her mind fighting each other. One says she should answer honestly - these are American soldiers, allies, for Christ's sake, and she's already said a lot of things - and one says she should divert the question because what she's doing is a secret, one that she's swore to keep even if it cost her her life. Barely any people outside the organisation know about its existence.

"Well, since you won't answer, I'm gonna have to guess. Since you're a secret agent who's working for the British government, I'd say you were doing espionage and sabotage actions."

Oh my, she's said too much, everything about her has become obvious... She must be more exhausted than she thought.

Speirs stands up, and raising a hand pushes his fingers in his hair, deep in his thoughts. Though before anyone could say or do anything else, Babe Heffron enters the room and tells his superior how Captain Winters has asked to speak with him. Ron signals at Webster to stay where he is and walks out through the doorway.

"The Germans talked," Nixon announces as soon as Speirs enters Winters' make-shift office in another part of the same building. "They say the girl's a British spy."

"She won't say much, but that's what I figured as well," Ron nods.

"We're trying to get in contact with her superior, whoever it might be," Winters joins the conversation as he's systemizing the papers on the desk with his just finished reports.

"She's a part of a secret organisation, sir, so it won't be easy, I guess."

"Maybe we should let her use our radio to do it herself," Nix suggests with a shrug.

And that's how a couple hours later - during which Doc Roe finally got a chance to attend to her bruises and wounds, and dictate some hot food into her - she finds herself sitting in a different room, feeling much better already as her fingers carefully try to get connection with the HQ of the Special Operations Executive under the watchful eyes of a few American soldiers.

In the end (y/n)'s ordered to stay with the company that has found her until she got better, wounds healed and strength back to normal before getting further orders. They have to check first anyway if it's safe enough for her to go back to her previous position or if the Germans know too much about her already.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day Easy's pulled back to Mourmelon and she travels in the jeep with the captains - Winters, Nixon and Speirs. Since they've already heard the full conversation she had with HQ and so they know about the SOE, she's more willing to answer their questions about what she was doing in Germany, how she got there, what training she got beforehand, et cetera.

The more he learns about the young woman, the more amused Ron feels. He can't shake the thought that he's never met a more badass woman than the girl sitting next to him. All his life, when he thought about the female part of the population, he knew that if he ever got himself a girl, it should be someone strong, daring and fearless. And it wasn't easy to find someone like that - until suddenly this British spy appeared in his life.

After arriving, the soldiers get a proper meal first, then everyone's dismissed to rest anyhow they choose to. (y/n) goes back to the room they've assigned for her, still feeling the past weeks' exhaustion creeping up on her and after changing into the American uniform Captain Winters got for her - so she doesn't have to walk around in her torn, dirty clothes anymore - she falls asleep on the inviting, soft mattress. When she wakes up drenched in sweat and panting hard, it's sometime in the middle of the night already, everything's quiet around her and only the light of the moon comes in from the darkness through the window.

She stands up, stretching her muscles and trying to calm her shaking body before slipping on her boots again and putting on the probably unused - almost still crispy - jacket before silently moving out of the room. The cold, February night air fills her lungs and cools her warm and sweaty skin under a short second immediately after she exits the building. Slowly starting to walk next to the wall, she lets herself drown in her thoughts again.

"You runnin' away?" A voice asks from the dark after she mindlessly turns in a corner, making her jump and press her palms against her chest, her eyes wide and heartbeat going so fast as if she's just run a marathon.

As she tries to catch her breath, her glance lands on a burning end of a cigarette and moving a bit further up, she meets Ron Speirs' lightly amused, sparkling eyes.

"You scared the shit out of me," she admits, still panting. He says nothing, just continues watching her - a half minute later she gives in, rolling her eyes and answering his previous question. "I'm not running away, just wanted to get some fresh air. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Can't sleep," he shrugs.

"Nightmares?" (y/n) turns around to lean with her back against the wall right next to him.

"Maybe."

Glancing curiously at him, she waits for a while for him to say something else, but eventually figures that it's all she's gonna get from the man - he's seemingly not one to speak a lot and admit his true thoughts and emotions.

"You're not the only one," she mumbles, turning her gaze down to the ground under her feet as she mindlessly kicks away at random rocks scattered around.

He still doesn't say a word, and (y/n) starts to feel like she's annoying him, that her company is unwanted here but just as she places her palms flat against the wall to push herself away from it, a hand holding a pack of cigarettes appears in front of her eyes. With a swift, hesitant glance towards the man she slowly reaches up to take one and as she places it in-between her lips, Speirs raises his other hand, lighting the smoke for her.

At the sudden flash of light, he gets a better look at her, and his eyes swiftly move up and down her body, taking in the nearly literally breathtaking sight of the girl wearing a uniform, one that's almost like his. Even as the flame dies out from the lighter, the image is right there in front of his eyes - as if it's painted on the insides of his eyelids.

They smoke in silence for a while, both deep in their thoughts - his mainly consisting of how most men find women in fancy dresses and skirts, wearing high heels and make-up the most beautiful sight on Earth, and how seemingly he's just the opposite of that. A woman in uniform, not dolled up at all, radiating such strength and courageous confidence from her whole body that it feels like it's gonna consume him - that's what makes his mind spin and maybe even his heart skip a beat.

"Where are you from?" (y/n) asks a few minutes later, exhaling the smoke from her lungs.

"Brighton, Massachusetts," comes his answer right away. "But I was born in Edinburgh."

"You were?" She asks back in surprise.

Ron nods, taking another drag of his cigarette. "My family moved to the US when I was four."

The girl hums, falling silent for a few seconds as she contemplates his words. "Is it nice? In Brighton," she adds to clarify any uncertainty about her question.

He takes a breath, thinking over his answer before actually opening his lips and speaking up. It becomes the longest sentence (y/n) has heard from him - and it feels like she's finally able to see a little more through the wall around his heart and soul. By the time they finish their second cigarette, she knows about how he got to the 101st, what training they partook back in the States, and where they've been around Europe, what they've done before getting to Haguenau and - unintentionally - rescuing her.

And even though she feels like she'd gladly listen to him talk for hours, days, if she had a chance, a yawn takes over her features and she feels a sudden surge of sleepiness move through her bones and veins.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I think it's time for me to call it a night. Maybe you should try to get some sleep as well, you deserve to rest properly," she flashes a small smile his way that warms his chest even in the cold winter air.

Stomping out her cigarette on the ground, she raises her eyes once more - only to find him already watching her. "Good night," she nods with the warm look in her glance still apparent, then turns around and makes her way back to her room.

Speirs is left alone with the goosebumps on his skin - ones caused by the way she said his rank - and he stays there for a couple more minutes, thinking about their conversation, about the girl. Then he moves back to his room as well, following her advice - and eventually getting the best sleep he's had in a long, long time. No nightmares, no waking up after seeing his men die over and over again, no trouble falling back asleep with stains of blood and dead bodies appearing in front of his inner eyes. He just sleeps. Peaceful, as he did as a child, with the only dream that appears being one about a woman. Her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next night when (y/n) wakes up from her sleep, she almost instinctively puts the rest of her uniform back on, not thinking just walking towards the same place she found the young man the previous night. She doesn't even know why, but disappointment sweeps in her body when her eyes take in nothing but his absence. Nobody's there, just her.

"Want a smoke?" The familiar voice of Speirs enters her ears only a few seconds later, making her jump yet again.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he watches her spin around, panting just as much as she did the last night. "Would you stop scaring me every goddamn time? You're gonna be the death of me," (y/n) scolds him with a frown playing on her eyebrows, but he can see the playful glint in her eyes that lets him know that she doesn't mind it that much - that she's just glad to see him again.

"Sorry," he says with his lips curving into a smirk that says the complete opposite. As a peace offering he holds his pack of cigarettes out for her, similarly to the first time just about 24 hours ago, and then lighting it for her.

Conversation starts easier this time, even Ron's more willing to speak his mind, sharing his thoughts, asking questions. Time seems to fly as in no more than a blink of an eye (y/n)'s already stomping out her third cigarette. He hesitantly offers her one more, trying to convince the small voice inside his head that he's not doing it to keep her around for some more time. She shakes her head, but doesn't make a move to leave, just keeps on leaning against the cold wall, opening her lips to ask him yet another question.

Only a little while later, when a shiver moves up her body, leaving her shaking and teeth clinking, is when they suddenly realise how cold it actually is to just motionlessly stand outside, and this time Speirs is the one to offer to call it a night.

From that night, it becomes an everyday thing - or more like everynight in their case - for the two of them, no matter how tired they might be the next day when they talked throughout almost the whole night - until the sky started lightening, signalling the closeness of dawn. They stand there, in each other's company, smoking and sharing stories about their lives, getting to know the other more and more.

It becomes the part of his days Ron looks forward the most - sometimes he doesn't even try to get some sleep, just sits on his bed thinking until their unspoken time of meeting comes. She's always joking around, leaving sarcastic comments whenever she has a chance - leaving him amused by how optimistic she can be from time to time even in such terrible times, after all the things she's gone through.

Her quietly ringing giggle and her full-on, bubbling laughter soon become his favourite sounds he's ever heard in his life and he finds himself trying to make jokes himself, coming up with all kinds of funny stories he can just to be the reason she lets out those angelic sounds.

During the days, (y/n) spends her time with Easy company, joining them in whatever it is they're doing, making friends with the men - just enjoying themselves. One time she's just moving between buildings with Joe Liebgott, Babe Heffron and Chuck Grant when Speirs comes walking from the opposite direction, with about four or five packs of cigarettes in his hands.

"Will you leave some for me too, Captain?" (y/n) calls out to him with a mischievous grin and Ron has to bite back the smirk that's threatening to appear on his lips - both from the playfulness of her sentence and the fact that she called him that again.

The three soldiers next to her turn to look at (y/n) as if she's gone crazy, but then they only get even more shocked when their superior answers - especially when hearing and seeing the unusual merriness radiating from him.

"Sure thing, miss."

The girl bites her bottom lip to keep in the giggle, not turning her eyes from his until they pass each other, her cheeks turning slightly pink in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Liebgott inquires with a frown.

"I asked for some cigarettes," she shrugs nonchalantly.

In the next half an hour, the three paratroopers take it upon themselves to fill her in with all the rumours going around the men about the company commander.

That night when she arrives to their usual spot, he's already there. As soon as her eyes fall on him, her lips curve into a suggestive smirk. "It seems like I'm not the only one you like scaring the hell out of," she announces, drawing his attention to her.

Ron raises an eyebrow in question, and she explains in a couple words what she's heard from her friends in Easy that afternoon. He can't help but grin as his shoulders move in a shrug as the routine-like action of him offering a smoke and lighting it for her takes place - it's become such a habit that they don't need any words or thoughts to do it, their hands moving in instinct.

"If only they knew how not scary you are when someone takes the time to get to know you," she sighs.

"Someone as in you?" The corners of Speirs' lips turn upwards into a sly smirk. "You're trying to get to know me?"

"Hey, I didn't spend the past many nights suffering to get information out of you for no reason," she jokes, a small giggle leaving her lips.

"If it's so bad you describe it as suffering, why do you come back out here every night?"

(y/n)'s cheeks burn and she blesses the darkness for hiding it as he now openly teases her. "I guess I like the company too much to give it up," she speaks quietly.

Ron's heart feels like bursting with happiness to hear that sentence - something he never thought possible before.

"Anyway, I might enjoy them being scared of me," he shrugs again, seamlessly diverting the subject as he doesn't know what to say to her confession - he can't just say that he feels the same way, now can he? Even if he does.

The girl raises an eyebrow with an amused sparkle in her eyes, forgetting about the seriousness of the previous moment herself, more than willing to let him change the subject in her slight embarrassment.

"You do?"

Seeing his nonchalant nod she can't help but laugh loudly and sharply and his free hand swiftly comes up to cover her lips and muffle the sound before someone in the surrounding buildings wakes up. For a couple seconds they stay like this, until (y/n)'s laughter dies off, first into small giggles, then into a content silence. Even then, his fingers don't leave her skin, and the more moments pass, the more aware she becomes of his touch.

It feels like her skin is tingling wherever she feels him gently pressing against and the remainder of her cigarette imperceptibly falls to the concrete that's beneath their feet. Ron can't help but wonder about how hers are the softest cheeks, the softest lips - the softest things his fingers have ever touched. (y/n) slowly, very slowly raises her eyes until the (y/e/c) orbs connect with his hazel ones and she gets lost in the intensity of his gaze.

Hesitantly he starts lowering his hand, letting it fall from her face, back to his side - but he doesn't move further, stays right there, close enough to hear and feel her small breaths as they move the air between them. Time seems to stop between them as they stand captured in each other's eyes.

"Ron," she whispers and his eyes flutter shut, heart skipping a beat. He doesn't even know how she knows his first name, but she has never said it before and now hearing it he can't help but want to hear it again and again and again. By the way his breath hitches, for a moment (y/n) fears she said something she shouldn't have, but then his eyes open again and she's taken aback by the emotions flowing in his sparkling orbs - so the fact she called him by his name was anything but bad.

Heartening up from his reaction she carefully reaches out with her fingers until they touch his, pausing for a moment to give him a chance to pull away. When he doesn't move a single muscle in his body, just keeps on watching her, she moves once more, snaking her hands in his and intertwining her fingers with his. For a second or two that seems like long hours for the two of them they stay like that, then out of nowhere Speirs lunges forward and hungrily presses his lips against hers.

She grips into his hands tighter before not much later they slip out of her hold, only to move up to cup her cheek and the back of her neck. He tilts her head further back to have a better angle - to be able to kiss her deeper, and she sighs into his mouth contently, her own arms moving up his back, clinging into his body.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the remainder of Easy's time in Mourmelon, off the line, the captain and the secret agent don't spend another night talking outside in the cold February night, smoking. Instead, they do the very same thing inside, in his room - lying in his bed, in each other's embrace, sharing passionate kisses every once in a while. Sometimes to kiss the pain of the past or the uncertainty of the future away, sometimes only because they can't help the overflowing emotions in their hearts and minds - the only thing that seems to matter anymore is to feel each other.

.::the end::.

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[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Dolores's apartment

She has a couch -- it's comfortable, but it doesn't fit the image she wants to project. She would not use the word "squat" to describe the apartment, of course, nor would she phrase it as a judgment about herself. "I can't afford a loft apartment. The building I lived in for a couple of years in college had two bedrooms and two baths. That's about all we needed."

(What she did say: "When I came over, the place was just a mess. So I cleaned it up, which cost me a lot of money, because I don't do things for free.")

She does use the words "squat" and "couch" because they communicate something she is trying to communicate. "I don't want to be sheltered, you know, by these giant corporations that use technology as a means to squeeze us for profits. And I don't want to be fenced in by these giant corporations. What I want is a place of individual freedom, which is possible only on the individual level."

Her apartment is not a loft apartment -- it does not have an attic, but she does not live in a building with an attic, either. She has a ceiling which permits her to walk around a little, but that's it. She is in no danger of falling off the couch or slipping on the slippery floor, and it is easier to reach the kitchen counter, but it is still only a little. If you were to look up at the ceiling, you would see that it is a flat plane about three feet from the floor, with only a little bit of vertical height. If she stands on it -- carefully, as if on a narrow shelf -- she can reach the counter. Otherwise, she must sit on the floor. It would be possible, but she would rather not.

She sits on the couch, looking at her face in the mirror. It looks more serious here. The couch is a little more than three feet away, and the light is somewhat worse. It makes it harder to see some things, which is to be expected. The kitchen is at about the same distance, but the wall behind her has a large window. The large glass wall gives her the feeling that she can see all the way through to the other side. That is what she says -- not that the couch is a little smaller, not that the wall is taller, but that the couch is closer to the middle, the middle of the world. And the kitchen, too, is only a small bit further away, and it still feels like a big space.

It has become a game, to think about how small she really is, to think about the little space she has. It is like counting steps or something -- the space she's in is not that big, after all. If she stands up, she can touch the wall behind her, in one smooth movement. If she gets up, she's up in the air, and so is she. If she stands up, the light above her is much closer than it is now. It is like a narrow shaft of brightness, a ray of illumination. If she gets up, her shadow is taller than she is.

She can walk around a little on the cushions. They do not hurt her. The cushions are a little softer than the floor, a little like the thick cushions of some old furniture. The couch is a little short, a little big, but the back is comfortable, and there is a little gap at the bottom -- just enough space for her to put her feet flat down, just enough space for a small person to squat. The couch is just the right height for her.

She stands up, puts her right foot down first, then her left foot. Her right foot lands on the gap, the back edge of the cushion. "I am not sheltered," she says. "This is just a small space."

As she's standing up, something comes into her field of vision. It's not an object that was just there. It must have been there a long time, and yet it only came into her awareness now. There is a dark spot where it should be.

She sits back down and sits there for a long time. She takes a small sip of her wine.

Something stirs. There was a dark spot here.

It is dark. She can't see anything. There is a thing here.

A thing which stirs.

It is still dark.

The dark spot stirred.

It is a shimmering spot, but not the kind of shimmer she associates with sparkle, more like the reflection of a pool of water in a dark room. She can see herself, from across the room, but she can't make out her face. The room is a little dimmer than it should be. The shimmershine in her field of vision is something like a small wave -- something which moves across the field of vision, and then disappears.

(Dolores did not really drink alcohol. She had one drink -- at her first party, at her first wedding, years before she had this apartment. And she thought it tasted bad, because it was cheap wine. Cheap and sour and not like any wine she had ever had before.)

The shimmershine goes down, and another comes into focus. Another dark spot comes into focus.

A scratch at the bottom of the couch -- something which does not look like it was already there. She sits there, drinking her wine, drinking it slowly, and the shimmershine moves down across the field of vision. It is something like a tentacle, or a crawl.

(Again, she did not really drink alcohol.)

There is a sound. Dolores is sitting at her desk, which is the kitchen table, with her laptop on it, and a beer bottle in one hand and her phone in the other. The phone is playing a short clip of a song she does not know. She does not care for the sound of music, but this song is pleasant, and it is a distraction. "A dark spot, a dark spot, a dark spot," she hums, singing a little bit.

A few of the shimmershine fade out, then come back again. It's as if her field of vision is now the field of view of a pair of binoculars. Through the binoculars, she can see a thing coming closer, which is the body of a thing.

(This is the body of an old man. She is not sure how long he has been there. She did not look -- did not, in fact, turn her head or look at her hands or the phone in her lap -- until she saw his face.

What she did see when she looked, just then, was that the kitchen was in disarray, as if it had been used as a living room, but not recently. There were food dishes on the counter, with food that was partly gone. There was a trashcan with the lid off, and some trash piled in it. There were several dirty plates in the sink. There were dirty dishes piled on the counter.)

(Dolores is not sure how long he has been in her apartment -- not that long, not for long. But he is old, and has come here once before. He must be a familiar. She knows who he is.)

The kitchen is in disarray, but only a little. She has not cleaned up at all. She sits at the desk, with her head tilted forward and her eyes closed, listening to music. The kitchen is still in disarray, but only a little -- it is a little difficult for her to think about the kitchen in any detail.

The thing has come closer. She is almost ready for her new life to begin.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 22: I'll Come Back for You RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!) WARNINGS: violence, sex, the usual, as always tell me if you need anything else tagged!! SUMMARY: “No,” you cry again, but this time you go limp. You’re crying now, for real. The planet is crushing you. Or maybe the air. Or maybe it’s just your own broken heart, suffocating itself against your ribs.

“Nova,” Din whispers again, “Cyar'ika, you have to hide. You have to stay out of reach of Gideon, which means you have to stay out of reach of me. Hey. Hey. Listen to me.” You try to find your center of gravity, but you can’t. You tumble to the ground, tears hurtling down your cheeks. Din follows you, clinging to you all the way down. “You just need to stay away long enough for me to defeat Gideon, kill him, and get the Darksaber back to Bo-Katan. Once he’s dead, once this is over, I’ll come back for you. Do you understand me?” AUTHOR’S NOTE: i am just truly so sorry for this. i would say the usual "happy Something More Saturday!!!!!!!!!" but i broke my own heart with this one. angst lovers, this one is for you, fluff lovers (me included) i promise it's just getting worse before it gets SO much better, and that i have a very sold (and fast) plan to fix it. more notes at the end. i love you :(

*

In and out, the lightsabers pulse. It doesn’t just flicker and hum with the glow of a kyber crystal, Ahsoka’s blades themselves run in radiating beams of light. It might just be the atmosphere on Corvus, the way that the fog messes with the brightness, but they look infinitely more real than you remembered the one back on Coruscant looking. When you held that one in your hand, it felt like a weapon. Hers feel like a lifeforce, equally as strong and as radiant as the other.

Ahsoka’s demeanor is just as ebullient, even though it’s clear she’s just as determined as she is kind. She’s tall in stature, purposeful with the way she walks. She seems to know the planet inside and out, although you’re not quite sure if that comes from lived experience or Force intuition. Every step she takes is intentional. You’ve tried to muster up the courage to ask her questions, to understand how the Force works through her, but every time you do, something else makes it sink back down into obscurity.

All three of you are in awe of her. Din’s quiet is usually just as purposeful, but here, you can tell it’s because he’s trusting, and that he knows she’s the one to default to. His visor tracks her footprints against the dirt of Corvus. The baby is currently in your arms, ears perked up every time Ahsoka speaks or moves in a certain way. You’re just openly staring. You know you’re probably being rude, or at the very least making her uncomfortable, but you can’t help yourself. This is the closest you’ve ever been to a Jedi before, and you can feel the energy radiating off of her. It’s like the baby’s, only fine-tuned and amplified. That sort of mind-meld connection you have with him, all of that radio frequency is sharing one, unified thought—I love her.

The three of you follow her, deep into the foggy forest, and you can feel Din’s eyes lock onto you when you’re stepping over the roots, watching Ahsoka’s footfalls. He holds up a gloved hand to help you over the large and mossy ones, but other than that, you just track her movements, a strange, bound triumvirate. When you finally reach the hill that feels like her temporary home, you sit yourself down on a low rock, cracking all the ache out of your neck, heart hammering, trying to figure out what comes next.

It doesn’t. Not for a long while, at least. Din starts to fill the silence once, then twice, then three times, but Ahsoka just looks serene and quiet, gaze intense enough to stop anything, and his voice falters off somewhere inside the modulator. Her eyes are locked on the baby’s, all that blue counteracting his giant ones. You see the way his facial expressions move, how his nose twitches, and it’s like you’re remembering a fragment of a memory. They seem to be communicating in another language, or some frequency you can’t quite seem to tap into. The way that you and the baby have been talking, somehow, you know it’s different. This is a practiced act, something wizened and older than you are.

You exchange looks with Din every once in a while, just trying to stay quiet and not interrupt whatever Ahsoka and the baby are doing, but everything in you is a complete live wire. You can feel his gaze on you, just as sparking, just as bright. Everything feels huge and colossal in a way it didn’t before, like you can feel all these moments in time through the blips of your visions starting to lace themselves together into something tangible. Even in the fog, even with the residual sounds of the town you know is nearby, you can feel how loudly the energy is pulsing. Something in you tells you Din feels it, too, even without his own tether to the Force.

Ahsoka is serene. She’s tall and athletic, lean muscles that bulge whenever she flexes. Her lips are always pursed together, and her skin is somehow even more orange and beautiful in the foggy, low light. She’s clearly been from one end of the galaxy to the next, seen wars you’ve only heard about. Her sabers are slightly different shapes. You notice them whenever they catch reflection through the trees.

For hours, it feels like, you’ve been sat here. You slowly slide off the mossy rock you’re perched on, trying to stretch your legs out, shake the stiffness off them. Your new pants are getting dirty, which is a shame considering the hassle you and Din went through to get them, but you happily spread out on the ground, relieving the aching pressure as quietly as you can. He sits, finally, after realizing this whole interaction might take some time. He tries again to talk to her, and when Ahsoka just tilts her head to gaze deeper into the baby’s eyes, he gives up.

You can feel the sigh through the modulator from here. It’s become less about sound, now, and just the recognition that he’s sighing. Even though it’s long and heavy, you know how much of a relief it must be for the three of you to finally be here, to meet a Jedi who can train the baby. It’s the thing he’s been tasked to do for as long as you’ve known him, and after so many close calls with Gideon and the residual death that follows him around, you can feel the pressure radiating in waves off Din’s back. Before, the three of you were outnumbered and outgunned. But now, with Ahsoka? Now, you’ve got a fighting chance. One that might give you the opportunity to strike fast instead of running, dodging, and hiding.

Din pokes at your leg. You look up at him, squinting, smile filling up your whole face. Slowly, he slides down to the forest floor beside you, and you rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, just long enough to be intentional, and he leans into your touch. You don’t want to be loud, don’t want to do anything to startle Din or the baby or Ahsoka, but then Din’s pinky cinches yours at the knuckle, and you sigh happily. Even with the noises echoing from the town in unrest, even with your heart still racing from all the scrapes with Gideon and his henchmen on the last few planets, there’s something warm and bright here in this little nook in the woods. The light is low in the sky before you hear anything from Ahsoka and the baby, and you curl your knees into your chest, trying to quiet the grumble of your stomach.

“How long has it been?” you murmur, quiet enough that you thought Din would be lucky to catch it, even sitting up right against you, but then Ahsoka is the one to answer.

“Long enough,” she says, and you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks. “We had a lot to talk about.”

“Talk?” Din asks, silently making his way to his feet. “What did you—speak about?”

“Everything,” Ahsoka answers, voice still smooth and even. “He’s been looking for me for a long time.”

You glance back and forth between her and the baby. “D—did he know you before?”

She tilts her orange head at you, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. “No,” Ahsoka confirms, “but he’s been looking for a Jedi for some time now. Grogu seems to have found a family instead.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Grogu?” Din repeats, head tilted, stepping forward. “Is that—?”

“His name,” Ahsoka answers, nodding. The baby—Grogu—coos from where he’s sitting, his big green ears perked up and attentive. He doesn’t really grin, just coos happily at you, but you see his small mouth break into a smile. You can feel his energy, how calm he is, how at peace he must be now that all three of you have your true names, your family unit together and truly whole. You quietly kneel down in front of where he’s sitting, and he grabs a hand at your necklace, swinging out against your squat and catching the low light. You let him thumb over the Rebel insignia, spending a few extra seconds pressing the pad of his finger into the star you carved on the back.

“Is that—” Ahsoka steps forward, and you turn your head to try and face her. She’s tall, determined, and when she squats right down beside you, she’s considerably larger, too. You stammer, realizing how close she is, how she’s a Jedi in front of you, someone who can feel the world in the same way that you can. It’s deafening, the rush of it. “It is. Are you a Rebel?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “I was,” you tell her, truthfully, “most of my life.”

She looks at you with pain in her eyes. It cuts through, sharper and brighter than the rest of her. It’s an odd look against her easy warmth, something deeper and striking than you’ve seen on her so far, but you can feel it. She is, too, even if she isn’t fully part of the Alliance. You have shared grief, and hers goes deeper than yours can even name.

Slowly, she stands back up from where she’s beside you, intense eyes locked back on Din. “You saved him,” she asks, but it doesn’t sound much like a question.

He nods. “Once upon a time,” Din confirms. “Truthfully, though, the kid—and Nova—save me more than I do them.”

Ahsoka turns, looking back at you. Quietly, you push off the ground. You’re clumsy, and there’s an ache in the middle of your thighs from where you and Din fucked on the floor last night, but when you’re finally standing, you nod against Ahsoka’s unasked question.

“I’m Force sensitive,” you whisper. You haven’t really ever said that out loud before, how heavy and residual the fact feels under your tongue. You nervously tuck a fistful of loos hair behind your ear, eyes oscillating between Din and Ahsoka. “I—is that a problem?”

Neither of them answer. You feel stupid. You know it’s a problem, that with the energy radiating through both you and the baby, you’re both vulnerable and very easy targets for a whole lot of evil. You know it lives, seeping and hungry, an insidious itch under your skin. You know how much danger the three of you have been in lately, how it plagues Din, how it keeps him restless.

“It’s going to make you accessible,” Ahsoka says slowly, her eyes flickering over to Din, just for a second, but long enough for you to gauge the meaningful look she gives him. “I could tell that Gideon—and the remnants of the Empire as a whole—want Grogu. They’re after him, and mainly him, so that they can experiment on him and take samples of his blood and cells. He understands that.”

You swallow noisily. In the distance, you can hear the fighting echoing from the neighboring city get louder, and, unconsciously, you take a step closer to Din.

“You,” Ahsoka continues, tilter her head in your direction, “are every bit as much of a target now that Gideon knows you can use the Force. You’re a bigger specimen, larger, complex. I don’t know what he wants with either of you,” she continues, crossing her muscled, slender arms over her chest, “but it can’t be good.”

“We—” you start, choking over your own words, “we know we’re in danger, I know I’m dangerous, because I’m…loud and untrained, and—”

“You aren’t dangerous,” Ahsoka interrupts, striding forward so that she’s closer to you. Maker, she towers over you, strong and lean. “You’re untrained, yes, and you’re very valuable to whatever Gideon’s plan is, but you aren’t a liability.”

The way she says liability, the way it fits in her mouth, immediately makes you look at Din. She’s angry, you understand, she’s angry because she thinks Din has told you you’re a reckless, loose cannon, and that you’re too close to every cliff edge that you’ve pulled the three of you back from, and you shake your head furiously, trying to assure her that isn’t the case.

“She’s strong,” Din says quietly. His voice, modulated and even, sounds distant. Unfamiliar. “Stronger than most.”

Ahsoka tilts her head at Din. “I can see that, just by looking at her. By being in her presence. But I think, somewhere along the way, somewhere between when you found both her and Grogu, and realized what danger they’d be in running from Gideon, you’ve forgotten her strength.”

You swallow again. Noisily. You can feel Din fuming, feel how hot and heavy he is, and you want to step in between the middle of the two of them, mitigate the conversation, try to diffuse any collateral damage. The baby coos next to you, and you lunge forward between the man you love and the Jedi you’ve just met, heart hammering. “This is helping no one—”

“You think I want to shelter her from every threat in this galaxy?” he snarls, and you blink at Din as he moves angrily towards you. “That I want to keep her in the middle of all of this? I don’t. I’d kill Gideon today if I thought it meant Nova and the kid—Grogu—wouldn’t be in danger. I would let her shoot every single bastard in his fleet to their deaths if it meant the two of them could live safely. I’d—I’d leave them on the safest planet of the galaxy and hide myself away for the rest of my life it meant that they could be free from this. I’m doing the best I can, and you have no right—”

“Stop,” you plead, facing towards Din completely, desperately throwing your hands up against the silver, armored chestplates, trying to stop him from advancing on Ahsoka. You can feel her hands against the hilts of her white lightsabers, and the absolute last thing in the world you want is to get a matching scar on the other side of your belly. “I mean it, stop. Fighting over this—over me—isn’t going to stop the problem at hand. You,” you whip around, pointing a raised, shaking finger at Ahsoka, “you’re a Jedi. You—you have the Force, you can teach the baby. Grogu. You can train him, and then he can show me.”

She starts to speak, but you twirl back to face Din. The careful braid you knotted up this morning has become frayed and undone, chunks of hair hanging in your face, brushing against your cheeks in the foggy, green haze. You try to find his eyes under the helmet. “You ever talk about leaving us somewhere ever again, I’ll shake the idea out of your beautiful, thick head myself. There’s no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me. I protect you, you protect me. That’s how this works, remember?”

Slowly, jerkily, he nods.

“Good,” you say, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than you feel, trying to stop your voice from wavering. “Teach him,” you repeat, looking at Ahsoka. All that darkness and flame that lit up her eyes a few minutes ago is gone. There’s a hardened edge there, but it’s not made out of steel. She doesn’t look angry. She looks exhausted, sad. You can see it in her posture as she drops your gaze, stepping closer to Grogu.

Din goes in to stop her, but you shake your head, and he lets his gloved hand drop listlessly down at the side. You’re not sure what she’s doing, and you’re even more confused that it seems like Grogu and Ahsoka have their own frequency, one that you can only catch distant warbles and static off of. Frustrated, you blow hair out of your face, stepping back to observe. Finally, she kneels down to the ground, picks up a pebble. Wordlessly, she shows it to Din, then to you, then to the baby. His big bug eyes are wide, unflinching. You know that he understands what she wants him to do before Ahsoka even says the words. He stares at it, tiny nose scrunching up against the task of trying to move the rock with his mind. For a few tries, it’s impossible, no luck. He’s distracted. Grogu keeps glancing back and forth over the three of you, to get permission that he doesn’t seem to have on his own.

“He doesn’t understand,” Din protests once.

“He does,” you and Ahsoka say in unison. Her tone is heavy. Yours is excited, like you can feel the way your heart is trying to keep in time with the words. And it’s true. The baby doesn’t follow commands well, especially when he’s decided he doesn’t want to, but this is different. You can feel the energy rushing through him, but he keeps breaking concentration to stare up at Din, and the pebble falls quietly against the mossy rock he’s sitting on, tumbling down to the earthen forest floor.

“Why isn’t he doing it?” Din asks, and you can hear how poorly masked the concern in his voice comes out.

“He wants your permission,” Ahsoka answers. Any of the fire that was in her voice earlier is completely gone now, like a flood just went through. She’s still intent, and she still has an edge to her, but it’s colored something more like determination than anger. “He needs it.”

“You can do it, baby,” you whisper, leaning down so that your necklace will swing out from under your covered collarbone again, something to fortify him, keep him balanced.

Your cheeks burn with the realization that Ahsoka was talking about Din’s permission, not yours, but your action seems to relax the baby’s little heart, his expression melting into something slightly softer.

“You can do it,” Din echoes, kneeling down in front of the three of you, a strange triangle made on Corvus’s forest floor. Grogu coos, trying to meet his dad’s eyes under the helmet. “Go on. You’ve got it. Take your time.”

You’re not sure how much time you have, really, because the noises of whatever’s going on in town keep increasing, and with how quickly those men appeared out of the thin, foggy air earlier, you’re on edge knowing that anything else could emerge with little to no warning. Nervously, you scan the treeline as Din continues to coax and encourage the baby, picking up the rock off the ground. You lean up against the tree immediately behind the three of them. Its bark is thick and coarse, and the branches hanging off every side are pointed and sharp, the leaves all budding and a dangerous shade of green. It’s exhausting, keeping an eye out on the potential enemies in the distance and trying not to miss what’s happening with Din and Ahsoka and the baby, if he could move the rock farther than a few inches.

Sleep is still encroaching the borders of your eyes, even though you were out for hours last night. The massiveness of the day is heavy and loud, and right now, it’s demanding all of your attention. You let your back brush up against the cold, course tree, cracking your neck free of all the ache again. When Grogu catches your eye again, you smile at him, nodding encouragingly. He still is having difficulty focusing on the pebble, so you step as far away s you can. You close your eyes, let everything drip down your spine and run out of you. You’re trying to just be, to not let anything heavy and dangerous slip in through the cracks, and it’s harder here. You wonder if it’s because there’s another, powerful Force-sensitive being around, or if it’s just sheer exhaustion doing you in, but one thing’s for certain, and it’s that it’s hard to pull yourself into a space where your mind is weightless. Eventually, though, you can feel it pull out of your head, and that wave of knowledge, serenity, and energy comes and crashes over you. In your head, you’re able to tell the baby to do it, gentle and coaxing, just like he was with you when you floated his ball for the first time. When he looks at you again, you feel something change. Before you even open your eyes, you can feel his gaze shift to Din’s, and your lashes flutter open to reveal Din giving the baby an encouraging nod.

The rock is airborne. It isn’t flickering, and it isn’t even really moving, but it’s enough for all three of you, who gasp and clap, breaking Grogu’s concentration. You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to wrangle everything back in, to restrain yourself so that he can keep moving forward, keep the pebble skyward.

He does. It’s shakily, and somewhat uncontrolled, but you watch as Grogu moves, letting the pebble levitate, then letting it come back and forth between him and Ahsoka. In a few tries, he’s got the rhythm of it, moving intentionally and slowly, letting the rock float through the air as unencumbered and free as his little metal ball does. You try to make yourself stay quiet, but you can’t help it. You clap excitedly as Din falls to his knees to get close to the baby, show him how proud of him his father is. You beam, watching the two of them, everything else rolling off your shoulders. This is the closest you’ve come to feeling free from the evil that lurks in the galaxy’s corners in months. Since you told Din you love him. Since he proposed. Since you’ve been aware just how much Moff Gideon wants to get his scary, manipulative hands on you or the baby to harness your power, leave you breathless, take everything for himself. It’s like there’s a bead of light in the place of where your heart is. It’s momentary, it’s fleeting, but it’s there, really there, at least for a second. Something to fixate on, to haul all three of you out of the darkness. Something to shine in the same way you do.

Ahsoka steps forward, and you catch her eye as she tilt sher head towards Din and the kid. You smile at her, completely, fully. She smiles back, just as easy. You still see that glint in her eye, that exhaustion, the way she stares at the three of you like she’s interrupting, like she’s something knife-shaped cutting through. You nod at her, just once, and you can tell she knows what you mean. There’s no hard feelings. She’s wise, and she’s seen probably three times as much of this fight as you have, and she’s still here, on the periphery, kind and unafraid to cut down things that are making the darkness bigger.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For helping us.”

Ahsoka studies you. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want to thank her again, but everything your mouth starts tumbling out is stammering and silly. “I—what do you mean?”

“You’re an ex-Rebel engaged to a Mandalorian,” she murmurs, and you blink, trying to figure out how she put that together before you remember that she and the baby had a conversation through the Force earlier, and the little gossip probably told her everything. You smile, tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “You don’t seem like the bounty hunting type.”

You kick a bit of mossy earth with the toe of your boot. “I’m not,” you admit quietly. “I don’t like killing.”

Ahsoka steps closer to you. You gulp, looking up at her. You thought Din was intimidating, that his stature was enough to make anyone not confident enough to look him in the visor run screaming. But as calm as Ahsoka is, how warm her heart beats, she’s just as fierce. A protector. A defender. A fighter. “Is that why you dropped out of the Alliance?”

You nod, slowly. “Sort of. My parents died on a mission, and I never really came back from that. I—I grew up on Yavin,” you continue, fingers absentmindedly finding your necklace. “On base. And it never felt like home after that. By the time they died, we were so close to winning, anyways, and once the Death Star blew, I left. I wanted to help people,” you say, your voice barely catching in the wind, “and I’m an excellent pilot, but I never liked shooting anyone down. Still don’t. I left, met some dangerous people, fell in their path, and barely made it out.” You swallow noisily, realizing how much you’re sharing. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling—”

“No,” Ahsoka encourages, tilting her head at you. Din and the baby are still practicing over with the rock, and he’s gleeful, showing off to his dad. “I’m curious. Please continue.”

“I was just a runner for a while,” you say, leaning back against the bark of the tree. “I moved food and drink and resources in the Outer Rim from one place to another. Before long, though, I started picking up people in bad situations, ones like I was in myself. I didn’t charge them anything, just shuttled them to nearby planets to help keep them safe from whatever they were running from.” You watch as Grogu lifts the rock in the air again, smiling faintly at him in the distance. You feel a lifetime away from the disbelief and betrayal on Din’s face when he saw you doing the same thing, your heart swelling with how he’s watching your kid in all his strange, magical, little, green glory. “I crashed my ship on Nevarro, which is where D—Mando picked me up. He told me he was just going to get me off the planet, that he’d drop me somewhere safer, but then I just ended up sticking around. Then we fell in love instead.” You mouth shapes a smile around the word love. “I know we’re in danger,” you say, urgent and quiet. “I know that we’re both liabilities. And I know we won’t be out of trouble for a long while, at least until we can get the Darksaber back from Gideon at the very least. But I’m not running,” you say, lifting your chin, resolved, into the air. “I’m not running. And I don’t know what kind of time you have, or what you can teach the baby and I,” you continue quietly, looking straight into Ahsoka’s eyes, “but I do know this is the closest I’ve felt to something that feels like winning in a long time.”

She’s quiet. It’s like she’s peering into your soul, spending time dissecting your every bone, every current your blood runs through. It takes everything in you not to waver, not to falter under her gaze, but you hold it. Finally, Ahsoka faces you head on, and she smiles. “You’ve still got something a lot of people in this galaxy don’t, Nova,” she says.

You blink. “What’s that?”

Ahsoka looks at Din and the baby, then back at you. Her gaze over you is still intense, but you can tell it’s because she likes you, because she sees a fierce spirit to you that nothing ever got close to stomping out. She lifts her chin to match yours. “Hope.”

You want to thank her, want to do anything to signify how that fortification alone feels huge enough to make everything in you swell and sing, but you don’t have a chance. An arrow shoots out of nowhere, and Ahsoka’s orange hand lunges forward, lightning quick, to knock you in the middle of your chest right below your collarbone, moving you away from the impact. You fall to the ground, scraping the heel of your hand against the rough bark of the tree root, skittering back out of immediate danger.

As if it were nothing, Din’s got both hands on his blaster and Ahsoka’s unsheathed both of her white blades, and you grab for the baby as they go running in the direction that a cacophony of blasts are heading from, and you duck and cover. It’s not your best move, but it’s the smartest one, at least until you can see where the fight is and be strategic about it. You don’t have the Crest, and you don’t have control, or lightsabers, or a whole artillery strapped to bulletproof armor, but you have your head. You pull your cloak up and around your face, covering the tops of your exposed shoulders and the gathering of hair, and you grab the baby and tuck him under the cloth. It’s not perfect, by any means, but with the atmosphere of Corvus being emerald and foggy, your faded green hood is enough camouflage to sneak closer and closer to the battle. You can’t see Din, and all you have to find Ahsoka is the hum of the blade and the screams of the attackers in the dark and you duck down as low as you can, pulling Grogu off your chest so you can look at him.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” you hiss, over the noise, “do you understand me? I’m just going back there to get my blaster.” You gesture back to where you were leaning against the tree, the weapon that’s supposed to be strapped against your thigh laying on top of the mossy earth. “I will be right back,” you whisper, holding his face between both of your palms, “I promise, Grogu, okay?”

He nods. You nod back. You’re not stealthy, and you’re not particularly fast, but there’s something about this planet, something about all this green and the baby’s energy and the way Ahsoka holds command that makes you feel invincible. You don’t sprint. You don’t try to run, either, because you don’t know how covered you are by the fog that’s drifting closer and closer to you. You don’t have an armada. You don’t have clear access to the ship. But you’re better this way, on the fly, focused by adrenaline instead of your anxiety of what’ll happen next get into your head. You lunge against the mossy ground for your blaster, and when you pick it up, you start running back to where you’ve hidden the baby, stronger with a weapon in your fist. Someone, tall and clad in dark clothes emerges from the fog, and even from a distance, you know that they don’t match either of the people who are defending you and Grogu right now, so you stop to steady your grip against a rock, and you take aim.

The person roars when your bullet ricochets off the boulder they’re kneeling in front of, glaring wildly, trying to find you. You see the baby’s big eyes widen and close back down when he spots you, and you nod the best you can lodged behind a safe hiding place. The person starts roving forward, and you roll your eyes when you see it’s a man stomping around, trying to find where you’ve hidden.

“You’re a shit shot!” he yells, and you can feel the hum of Ahsoka’s sabers. She’s close, you can sense it, and you close your eyes, clicking the safety off the blaster as you stand up enough to take aim again. He’s looking the opposite way, so you spring up, bending your knees slightly, locking your arms and your grip into place. When he turns around again, he’s against the barrel of your blaster, and he gasps as you push the could maw of it against his temple.

“Don’t think I would be now,” you say, in a voice so much more level than how you’re feeling. “Wanna test your theory?”

He shakes his head, you raise an eyebrow. Maker, it’s like he’s actually scared of you. You, Novalise. You, overemotional hopeless romantic that can’t make a shot to save her life. You, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. At that and that alone, you steal a small smile when he closes his eyes.

“Why are you here?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “You’re trying to hurt us, take my son. Why?”

“The magistrate,” he says, lifting both hands sky-high. “She wants the Jedi. The orange woman. With the lightsabers.”

“I know whom she is,” you interrupt, shooting the baby a warning glance to stay where he is, camouflaged against the green, mossy rock. “Why does she want the Jedi?”

He shrugs, and you press the barrel of your gun a little closer into his scalp. He raises his hands even higher, so you let the pressure go, still staring down the gun to act like you’ll drop him at any second, even though you have literally no desire to shoot someone ever again. You step back, not much, but enough to plant your foot in a better spot, and you let him look down the blaster to coax him to answer. “Don’t know. We want her out of here. The magistrate. Their whole group is awful, holding the city of Calodan captive. Figure getting the Jedi out of here might placate her long enough for bargain for our city back.”

“You look pretty capable,” you counter, looking at the gun he’s dropped on the ground, gesturing to the arrows parked in the middle of the trees surrounding you. “Why wouldn’t you just attack them? Form a mutiny?”

He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and you sigh, dropping your grip just a little. It’s too much, though, stupid. The second you aren’t staring him down with the gaping mouth of your blaster anymore, he lunges for you, knocking you and your weapon to the ground. It doesn’t hurt, since the terrain is all grass, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of you, and he’s taken your blaster and kicked it off somewhere you can’t see, making a beeline for the baby.

“Help!” you scream, picking yourself off the ground, running, winded, back to where he’s heading for. You could kick yourself, but you’d probably trip over your own foot, so you keep going. He’s taller than you, and he clearly has more practice at running than you do, so you’re barely gaining speed when he picks up Grogu. He shrieks with being suddenly airborne, and you thunder your feet across the ground as fast as you can. You keep yelling loudly for Din and Ahsoka, because now you’re totally weaponless, and that piece of cowardly shit has your kid, and then you stop short, remembering you may not have a weapon, but you have something.

You clear your mind. Everything rushes backwards out of you. It’s still hard to make everything quiet in the midst of so much danger and noise, but you’re better at it now. Raising both hands, you focus, eyes snapping back open. You move, just slightly, and the man stops midair. He’s still trying to get the baby away, and he’s much stronger than you are, but then Grogu makes eye contact with you, determined and strong, and you nod, somehow knowing exactly what he’s about to do.

The baby bites down on the man’s arm. Hard. A real chomp, one he usually reserves for frogs and the food that’s supposed to be for you and Din. The man howls as he drops to the forest floor, and you lunge for Grogu as his abductor is stopped in his tracks. You give him a good stomp on his left foot, grabbing your blaster off the floor. He looks up at you with wide eyes, and you see how scared he is, so you decide to have a little mercy. “Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you,” you say, firmly, “and focus all your energy on taking back what’s yours instead.” He nods. You flick your finger back to stun and shoot him. It catches him in the belly, so he won’t be out for long, but it’s enough time to swaddle you and Grogu back up in your cloak, make your way through the edges of the fog that’s a lot quieter than it was s minute ago.

Your eyes aren’t the best on a good day, so you’re squinting and making shapes out of nothing. When you collide into Din, he has to clap a gloved hand over your mouth to stifle your shriek. The second he knows you aren’t going to be a red flag in the middle of the darkness, his hands moves off your lips and caresses against your cheek instead. You sag, letting him keep you upwards.

“That was some good fighting, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart doing cartwheels in your chest.

“I learned form the best,” you manage, trying to wink but accidentally closing both of your eyes. “What’s the plan?”

Quietly, Din pulls the three of you behind another mossy stone. From this vantage point, you can see the mass of soldiers the two of them have taken down. Up on the parapet, there’s a shrouded figure with a thin, sharp metal spear. Your eyes narrow, knowing exactly who’s up there—the magistrate and her evil eye making sure that there’s bloodshed outside the city walls.

“Ahsoka’s clearing the last of them now,” Din whispers, and even modulated and quiet, his voice still sends shivers through you. “You’re going to sneak through the gate of the city with her and the kid.”

You blink at him, doing a double take. “Me?”

Din stares at you through the visor, tilting his head. “You proved yourself, Novalise. I trust you to be quick and quiet enough to sneak through undetected.”

You nod, butterflies soaring to life in the middle of your stomach.

“Besides,” Din adds, clicking the safety off his blaster, the noise muted against the rough fabric of his glove, “there will be three of you. And you all have powers.”

You smile at him. “The Force.”

“Looks like powers,” Din shrugs. Out of nowhere, Ahsoka appears behind you, equally as stealthy and silent as Din is. You smile at her. “Get ready.”

“Wait,” she says, cutting one orange hand through midair. “She’s going to shoot at you.”

Din nods. “The armor can take it.”

Ahsoka looks him up and down, disdainful. “She has a beskar spear.”

Din, who was about to emerge from a crouched position to stand straight up, a shiny force to be reckoned with through all the fog, sinks back down. “What?” The word is low and dangerous in his mouth.

“Listen,” Ahsoka says, urgently. “It’s yours. I have no use for it. You help me defeat her, you get the spear and I’ll…” her gaze lands on you and the baby as she trails off. “I’ll find someone to train both of them.”

“But I thought you—?” you start, but then arrows and blasts are being hurdled through the air again, and Ahsoka pulls you and the baby around to the side, where a cover of trees mixed with the nightfall and the ominous grey still hanging in the air will keep the three of you sheltered enough to make it through the gate undetected. You place your hand over your heart, looking at Din, who nods at you just for a second before he comes out of hiding, guns ablaze, in full Mandalorian mode. As promised, you, Ahsoka, and Grogu are able to make it through the gate without anyone catching sight. The city is small, desolate. It’s quiet, eerily so, and you think that if it weren’t caught between captivity and war, it would be beautiful. All the green from outside has evaporated in here, the streets looking shoddy and destroyed. You follow against the wood of the buildings, keeping only a few paces behind Ahsoka. Her grip on her lightsabers is light but intentional, ready to strike at any minute. The three of you sneak through the majority of the city undetected. When you’ve reached the border of what is clearly the magistrate’s headquarters, she signals for you and the baby to standby. You nod, ducking back against the buildings as she fights her way through the guards. Slowly, silently, she beckons for you to follow her, and you do as quietly as possible, trying not to take stock of the dead bodies on the ground.

It is beautiful in here, just as you predicted. You stay close behind Ahsoka, eyes darting up and around to watch for anyone who might try to hurt you. It’s dark but the greenery is lush and alive, and you run the tips of your fingers over the petals of flowers before you sit in the cloak under a big, sprawling tree, letting the baby out from under your cloak so he can see, too. Eventually, your gaze drifts over to Ahsoka. She’s regal, tall, shoulders set and back. Down the middle of this part of the city is a long slab of granite, dark and glassy. It cuts through a reflecting pool, and your heart lurches as you realize where you are.

In the visions, any that you’ve had that go farther than Ahsoka shrouded here with her sabers, this is where you’re trying desperately to get to Din, to see your panicked face in the beskar. Worriedly, you try to stand, knees wobbling, and when he steps through the doorway, your heart seizes in equal parts relief and terror. Ahsoka stares at him, and you want to start running towards him, shield him with your own body, but you’re frozen in place. Before you can start to shake the fear loose, another figure spears behind Din, pointing the tip of a beskar spear against the unsheathed part of his neck, right where his helmet meets his armor. It’s the only place that’s really left uncovered, just a sliver of skin at the nape of his neck, right before his head meets his spine, but if you know it’s there, it can be fatal. Your stomach is heaving, stormy and dangerous. You want to run to him. You want Ahsoka to use her lightsabers to cut the magistrate down. You want to know enough about the Force to use it, to get the magistrate away from the man you love, but as much as you denied it earlier, you are a loose cannon. You’re good at moving things. You don’t have much practice in saving them.

Ahsoka shoots one glance your way, but you know what it means, even in the dark. Stay put. You shrink back in the shadows the tree gives off, pulling the baby quietly up against your chest. No one knows you’re here except for her, so as long as you don’t give it away, you’ll have the high ground. You watch, heart in shreds, as the magistrate pushes Din forward.

“You have a choice,” she says, voice so smooth, so full of ice, “between the Mandalorian and the freeing of the city. You want Calodan back? I kill him. You want him alive? You leave this planet forever.”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrow. “An ultimatum? Weeks of you trying to kill me, to have your captives hunt me down in exchange for their lives, and all you have for me is an ultimatum?”

“It’s a choice, Jedi,” the magistrate spits. You move forward, enough that you can pull your blaster out of the holster. You aren’t stealthy, but the noise of it is quiet enough to be hidden by their conversation and the proximity to your vantage point. “A compromise.”

“No,” Ahsoka counters levelly, stepping forward with her lightsabers. The hilts are still unsheathed, and you watch carefully for the flick of her thumbs to bring them to life. “A compromise would mean me leaving you alive. I can dangle death, too. You just have to fight me for it first.”

You feel your eyes bulge open in the dark, impressed. She steps forward again, unflinching. She doesn’t even look scared to face the woman that’s holding your fiancé’s life in her hands, and normally, that would both you, but right now? Right now, you’re just marveling. Ahsoka’s a badass.

“Fight me for it, then,” the magistrate seethes, and Ahsoka raises an eyebrow, igniting both blades. You gasp at how they hum and pulse, the white blade both dangerous and serene. When she lunges, the other woman takes the spear off of Din’s pressure point. If you were faster, this is where you would have lunged, but he rolls, sweeping a leg underneath the magistrate’s feet. She avoids them midair, but when he kicks at her coming down, she stumbles. You thumb the safety off, still hiding in the shadows until they need you. For people who just met today, it’s clear that Din and Ahsoka know each other’s rhythms, how they move. It’s like watching a dangerously choreographed dance, all three partners wicked and fast. The other woman is clearly skilled, almost on the level of th both of them, because she’s able to both defend and attack in the same swing. Wordlessly, she swipes through the air. She catches Ahsoka’s skin with the beskar blade, and Ahsoka hisses and kicks just as dangerously, swiping the blade of her own saber over the blood to cauterize it and then swings with it as she yells. You’re in awe of her. Between her blades and Din’s armor, you’re completely mesmerized. There’s not a chance in hell that you would be a match for any of them, so you just watch with the baby safe behind your body. For minutes, it seems, the three of them fight, sharp and quiet. You watch Ahsoka swing the sabers through the air. When the magistrate tries to kick the one out of her left hand, she tosses it overhead to Din, who, amazingly, catches it and swings back in the same momentum she gave him. For a minute, it looks like they have the magistrate cornered, but when she falls to the ground, you’re right in her line of vision.

You panic. You don’t know what to do. Your heart is caught in your chest, and you know she sees you. Din and Ahsoka are so preoccupied with keeping her down that they don’t notice the magistrate’s hungry, dark gaze on you, and you’re frozen. When she gets to her feet again, it’s like she has a whole new wind. She strikes Din down viciously, and you can hear the beskar tearing into his flesh, over a just-healed cut on his leg. He roars as he drops, and you silently make the baby agree to stay hidden. You sprint towards him, throwing all caution and stealth to the wind, just trying desperately to make it there in time to get him off the ground. You scream at the magistrate, a slew of curses in every language you know, sliding across the smooth tile of the ground. Over her head, Ahsoka throws you one of her sabers, still ignited, and somehow, despite all odds, you catch it. It flickers in your hand and you stare down at Din, trying to steel yourself for what you have to do again.

“Now,” he pants through the helmet, “do it, Nova, do it—”

You do. You press the lightsaber down on his cut, just for a second, and he cries out with the cautery, going limp on the floor. You don’t have any time to make sure he’s more okay than that, though, because the magistrate is charging straight after you. Before you can turn, you feel her hurl the spear, the beskar whittling through clean air as it soars towards you, and you catch your terrified expression against Din’s armor before you lift your hand, bracing for the fatality of the impact, knowing that at the very least, you saved the man you love and the kid you share.

But the spear doesn’t come. It doesn’t pierce you straight through. After a minute, you open your eyes, looking around. You, Ahsoka, and the baby all have your hands up in unison, freezing the spear midair. Relieved, you exhale, breath shaky, letting the spear clatter against the pavement. The magistrate makes a desperate attempt to reach for it, but you’re quicker. For once, you’re quicker, and you lunge for the spear, and when you’re back on your feet, exhausted and bloody, you have Ahsoka’s lightsaber in one hand and the beskar spear in the other. She doesn’t move. She looks up at you with filth and anger, and you press the point of the spear to her open neck. She doesn’t recoil.

“Nova,” Ahsoka whispers, over the pulsating thumb of her saber. “It’s not worth it.”

“It is if she’s going to terrorize people again,” you hiss, raising the saber up with conviction. “I could make it quick. Fast. Better than she deserves.”

“You could,” Ahsoka levels. You don’t dare take your eyes off the magistrate, her evil gaze. “Or you could walk away and let me do it.”

“She deserves it,” you spit again, but already, your conviction is fading. You feel the spear being tugged out of your hands, and you whirl around with your arm raised, ready to strike someone down, but it’s just Din, and you sag. You can feel the magistrate ready to lunge, and you aren’t in the place to defend yourself, so you just look up at Din, terrified, making your peace with death for the second time in the matter of a minute. But before you can die, before anything, he’s stabbed the spear unto the shoulder of the magistrate’s right hand, and she drops, writhing against the ground, screaming bloody murder.

“She deserves to fall from grace,” Din grunts, “with no iron fist to cling to or come back with.”

Silently, Ahsoka reaches down to cauterize it. You look away, sheathing her lightsaber and tossing it back. Wordlessly, exhausted, you stumble over to Grogu and shoulder him against your chest. The four of you make your way over the magistrate, who’s knocked out on the ground, and go through the gates. A small gathering of citizens are there to greet you, terrified and just as tired as you feel.

“She won’t be in charge anymore,” Ahsoka says softly, voice firm. “I’ll stick around for long enough to make sure of that, and then you can restore Calodan to its former glory without any oppressive regime.”

“Thank you,” one woman manages, and you can see the tear sin your eyes. Ahsoka smiles, nods, beckons you to follow her. Slowly, you tread back to the Crest, everything in your bones weak and sleepy. You want to fall asleep in the shower. You want to fall asleep with your head on Din’s lap. You’d fall asleep on the ladder if it meant you could spend ten hours without being awake anymore. When the gangplank gets lowered, you don’t have the energy to even make it up the few steps to your bed on the floor. You just drop right there, holding onto the baby.

“Are you coming?” Din asks Ahsoka, and you look up to find her gaze, calm and kind, on you.

“No,” she says, decidedly, eyes still on you and Grogu. “I can’t train them. They both have emotional attachments to you, and to each other. I’m not going to be the one to stop that.”

Din starts at her, but you raise a tired hand. “Are there any Jedi left who will train us?”

Ahsoka’s gaze is so full of intention you don’t have the energy to decode. “Yes,” she answers, finally. Go to the planet Tython. It’s strong in the Force. Call out to other Jedi, and anyone who hears it will come for you.”

“Thank you,” you say. You’re so tired, you could fall asleep on the spot. You want to thank her for everything, but you can barely keep your eyes open, and hope your two words convey enough gratitude for Ahsoka to feel it radiating.

Ahsoka steps closer to Din. “Gideon is coming,” she whispers, lowly. “I know he gave you an ultimatum. I know he’s going to try and take them, btu I also know he’s ruthless enough to discard one of them to keep you distracted and to cut you down.”

If you were more awake, you’d be concerned, but you listen to Din’s intentional, determined voice, and something about his tone makes you think that he’s telling Ahsoka the same promise he’s always made you—he’ll protect you, Gideon won’t touch you, that nothing evil and Imperial can cut through him. She nods, kneeling to brush a light hand over your messy hand and boop the baby’s tiny nose, and then you’re being carried up the ladder. Eventually, you feel the ship take off, and Din comes back to sit against your wall with you, bacta patches in one hand and his helmet in the other.

You mewl at him, reaching to touch his beautiful face, to tangle your fingers hungrily through his messy hair. He lets you get as close as you want, and after you pull off his pants, with the intention of dragging the both of you to lay in the shower together, he pushes one of the bacta patches into your hand. Wincing, you see how deep and nasty the cut was, and how messily you cauterized it. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice uneven, and he waves a hand at you, just wanting you to fix the patch over the whole thing to try and let the bacta work its magic. You do, and you slump against Din’s chest, half-naked and exhausted. Eventually, you feel him move out from under you, arms strong and secure around your waist, and you let Din carry you up and into the fresher. You’re on the floor while he turns on the hot water, and the second that you can touch the warmth of it you stand up, letting the pressure rinse over your face, your aching muscles, stripping away as much pain and exhaustion as it possibly can.

When Din comes in behind you, you just turn around to look at him. His own eyes are tired, his beautiful hair getting wetter as you pull him into the stream, dragging the pads of your fingers over his shoulders. He sighs against your touch, pressing his own hands into the small of your back, trying to release the pressure. You’re not sure when he gets hard, when you feel him inside you, but it’s desperate and needy, and he’s leaving an artillery of kisses down your neck. His mouth sucks on and off you, marking your skin. Din’s hands, large and tan, grip either side of your hips to hoist you up, to rock every inch deep inside you. Before tonight, sex always felt like a gratitude, a reprieve. Even the hot and heavy times in the last few weeks have felt more like a thank you, like it’s something both of you want and give each other. Tonight, with the way Din’s burying himself in you, it feels like it’s the last time. The gravity of it, the sharpness, it all feels too heavy.

“My sweet thing,” he moans into your mouth, ricocheting off the walls and up into your ear. “I need you, n—need you to—my sweet thing. He hasn’t called you that in months, not since before Dagobah, and you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re even crying, but with how desperate he is, with how he’s groveling, begging you to let him fuck you, it makes everything in you feel like it’s going over a cliff.

“You have me,” you murmur, punctuated by his thrusts, but it sounds like a reminder and not like an encouragement. When he’s ready, he looks at you through the water and steam, and you nod, afraid to speak in case your voice comes out hollow and fucked. Din thrusts down as he fucks into you one last time, gasping with the intensity of his orgasm, and when he lets you down he takes the showerhead and rinses between your legs, dragging the soap that smells like him over your skin.

You’re both so exhausted that you don’t even bother redressing when you get out of the shower. You just stumble, a two-headed animal, to the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, and when Din brings you close against your chest, there’s something still so raw and hungry inside both of you. You can feel it, the despair, the dread, the sucking feeling of something being wrong in the air. But you’re too exhausted to talk about it.

“I’m here,” you repeat into the darkness, heart hammering in your ears.

“I know,” Din allows, but he sounds so faraway, so distant. If you weren’t this tired, you would cry, you would beg him to tell you what’s wrong, what he’s hiding from you, but all you can do is push your nose in the crook of his neck to fall asleep, hoping all that darkness will have been turned over by the time you both wake up.

It feels like minutes when you do, but you know it’s been over a day. You feel the Crest hurtle out of hyperspace, and you drag yourself to the fresher to rinse your sleep-filled mouth out with water. By the time you redress and make your way up the steps, you’ve already landed. It’s just about dawn, as far as you can tell, and your eyes are still full of exhaustion from the day before. You sit down next to the baby, and when he reaches for your necklace, in your stupor, you unhook it from your neck and give it to him to hold on to until you make your way out onto Tython’s surface. Din’s suiting up, grabbing everything and sticking it back into place, and you let your hair loose, swinging around your face as you crack your neck to relieve the pressure. You’re still half asleep as you follow Din down the ladder. His helmet isn’t on yet, and you reach up for a sleepy kiss. He returns it, mouth full of desperation and urgency and everything he was made out of last night.

In retrospect, that right there should have been the first sign. Maybe not the first indication that something was seriously wrong, but the way he touched you, the way he drank your face in, the way he fucked you in the shower. Like it was the last time. You follow Din down the gangplank, the same way you’d follow him down the aisle, or follow him into battle. Determined, protected, lovingly. But when your boots make contact with the ground, you realize that you aren’t on Tython. It should have been obvious. And if you hadn’t exerted every ounce of energy in your body the day before, protecting yourself and your family from someone trying to eviscerate you, you would have known exactly where you were.

Your eyes widen around the familiar greenery of Dantooine. You’re on the other side of the planet than you were the last time you were here, where Din killed Merle and ignored everything in him to kiss you anyways. Your heart is hammering as you look around, eyes darting back and forth from Din and the Crest, where the baby is hovering in his cradle. The tears come before the knowledge of what’s happening does.

“Wait,” you manage, your voice shattered. “W—what are we doing on Dantooine?”

You’re right on the forest’s edge. You can see the city through the foliage, just a few klicks away. You look wildly back at Din, trying to scry the look on his face past his helmet. Your heart is a staccato in your chest, everything in you screaming that this is wrong, that you’re misinterpreting the situation, that this is a dream/

“Nova,” Din starts, and you shake your head at him, violently. “Novalise, listen to me.” When he grabs for your face, you sob, loud and unashamed. “Gideon is going to keep coming.”

“I—know,” you say, thrashing against his grip. “I know that, Din, I know—did you see what I did back there on Corvus? I can help! I can s—stop him, I can protect us—”

“No,” he says gently, “no, Nova, you can’t. Because if you’re with me, you’re the one he’s going to kill. He’s not going to capture you. He’s not going to keep you alive for long enough to fight back. He’s going to use you to break me, to get the kid.”

“No,” you cry again, but this time you go limp. You’re crying now, for real. The planet is crushing you. Or maybe the air. Or maybe it’s just your own broken heart, suffocating itself against your ribs.

“Nova,” Din whispers again, “Nova, you have to hide. You have to stay out of reach of Gideon, which means you have to stay out of reach of me. Hey. Hey. Listen to me.” You try to find your center of gravity, but you can’t. You tumble to the ground, tears hurtling down your cheeks. Din follows you, clinging to you all the way down. “You just need to stay away long enough for me to defeat Gideon, kill him, and get the Darksaber back to Bo-Katan. Once he’s dead, once this is over, I’ll come back for you. Do you understand me?”

You’re not coherent. You want to scream, you want to barter, you want to plead. You want to do so much, but all you’re capable of is sitting there and crying, breaths long and dragging, the air barely getting in your lungs. “Please don’t leave me,” you sob, finally, and Din deflates too.

“Nova, I’m supposed to protect you,” he says quietly. “This is for your own good. It’s selfish of me to keep you close when I’m the one putting you in danger. You—” he stops, sighing. The baby is crying now, too. Your heart keeps breaking in your chest. Every time you realize what’s happening, it shatters again and again. “I’m going to kill Gideon. I’m going to protect you.” You’re still a mess on the ground. Din drags something over to you, and you realize it’s your bag, stuffed with food and bacta and credits. You just cry, trying to scream, but it’s like all the noise has drained out of you. “I’ll come back for you,” Din repeats, and then he’s gone. The ship is boarded and in the air before you can move, and you finally, finally scream, but it’s drowned out by the thrusters. You sob, loud and horrible, like a wounded animal, as the dust settles around you. You reach for your necklace only to realize it’s still in the baby’s fist. Every shred of proof of the people you loved is gone, off in the stardust somewhere while you’re stuck here, grounded and drowning, heart broken in your chest, crying out for all four members of your family lost out there in the crush of space.

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I AM SO SORRY AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! i love you all and i'm so grateful to have you here with me. i am literally breaking my own heart writing this, but now i can finally tell you all that THIS is the foreshadowed brokenhearted moment that we have been building to. yes i have already written both their reunion scene and makeup scene. the pain will not last longer than absolutely necessary!!!!!

CHAPTER 23 SHOULD BE UP NEXT SATURDAY, MAY 29TH AT 7:30PM EST!! i am unfortunately having another big slew of health issues, and after my doctors' appointment next week, i will at best have invasive testing ahead of me and at worst need surgery. i will not know until Wednesday, so please just be patient with me as i figure out when i can write!!! as always, i'll update you on tiktok (padmeamydala) and here as i get news!!!

thank you all so much again, not only for understanding my erratic, hectic posting these last few weeks, but for being here and caring about me and my health and wellbeing just as much as you care about Something More! graduation went so well, thank you all so much for all your well wishes!!! i promise we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming SOON!!!

xoxo, amelie