#imagine having your own personal identity so intertwined with someone you look up to

[stellar-skyy]

in my 'no one appreciates them like i do' era with kujou sara

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.4k

a/n: despite the spiderman aspect of it, this is just a cute little love story between two besties there's no angst or action here lol sorry</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

The next time you brought up Spiderman was the morning after. That night, you'd fallen asleep soon before the Back to the Future marathon ended, which was coincidentally the same time in which he usually went out to patrol the city looking for crime nearby. Leaving you comfy on his couch and cuddled against some of his plushies, he made his way out to check in on the city. That night was particularly calm, as he only prevented two street burglaries before making his way back to a still-sleeping you.

Naturally, he fell asleep next to you, only waking up the following morning when you'd woken him up by shaking his side, exclaiming something about some news you'd just seen online. Before even coming to his senses, he could already tell what you were so excited about. It was a conflicting feeling really, consisting of half cockiness and half annoyance. He felt pride at how impressed you were at his actions (despite not having knowledge that they were his), though he also felt annoyed that it was his secret identity who took credit for it.

With a yawn, he finally turned to you in order to entertain your insistence on raving about the masked man who'd been spotted once again last night.

"Oh my God! Jungkook, look! He stopped some burglars just a few streets over! Do you think he passed by here? — What if he climbed on our walls? That's so crazy," you went a mile a minute, "Fuck, I can't believe I slept through it," you pouted by the end of your rambles, practically huffing and puffing.

Once more, he couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. Despite his internal annoyance at the mere existence of Spiderman, he was also thankful his presence gave him a first row seat to how adorably infatuated you could get.

"Not like you could've met him anyways," but then he burst your bubble anyways.

"Stop! I could never meet him, I'd embarrass myself too badly. He's too cool for me anyways," you laughed to yourself, beginning to get up and taking some clothes from one of the drawers nearby, — Jungkook's apartment housed some of your clothes specifically for nights like these — heading over to the bathroom and presumably beginning to get dressed as soon as you were outside of his line of sight, not even bothering to close the door.

"Really? He could just be a loser under that costume," he commented, knowing it'd get under your skin.

Leaning back against the couch with his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner, he didn't even need his spidey reflexes to predict the shirt you threw his way in defiance due to his comment. He simply let it land on his chest, chuckling at your cute childishness.

"C'mon! You don't have to defend him from every little comment I make. He's a superhero, right? He's got tough skin," he whined at you, crumpling the shirt into a ball and tossing it into the clothes bin nearby with an expert precision.

Finally coming out of the restroom fully dressed, you grumbled at him as you ransacked his living room in search for your makeup bag, "You're just jealous of him," you hummed, disinterested in his complaints.

"Jealous? Of what? Not having to risk my life on a daily basis?"

Oh, how he wished that was the case sometimes.

"Spiderman must have so much game. Meanwhile, when was the last time you had a girlfriend?", you mocked him, finally spotting your makeup and sitting on the floor in front of his full length mirror in order to do your makeup.

Getting up, he sat on a beanbag nearby, watching you through the reflection with a scowl.

"M-me? Without game? You're the one crushing on a nameless man who probably doesn't even have a place to live! At least I have my bachelor pad — which, by the way, you stay at free of charge!", he rebutted, somewhat offended but not really. He just really needed to win this fight against himself.

"Please, I could totally pull him if we were in the same room for five minutes," you smirked at him through the reflection, somehow grooming your eyebrows to absolute perfection despite the current argument going on.

"You literally just said he was too cool for you," he recalled back.

"Under that suit, he's just a man. And I could pull any man."

Pull me, please! a desperate gremlin in his head practically whined as soon as you said the words.

With a shake of his head, he cleared his mind of that thought, "Okay, valid. So, you mean to tell me that you're just waiting for the chance to catch him alone? Is that why you haven't dated in months?", he genuinely wondered.

"Maybe," you mumbled, now moving onto your blush, one of Jungkook's favorite touches in your makeup regimen, "How about you? How come you haven't seriously dated a girl in years? Any secret crush I need to know about? I'm very open about mine," you dug in, unknowingly making Jungkook break a sweat at the questioning glare you sent him through the mirror before refocusing your gaze on yourself.

Facing Captain America and the Winter Soldier had made him less nervous than this very moment.

He squirmed in his seat a bit before managing to let out a credible response, "Just- just not into anyone these days," he lamely responded.

"Boo," you boo'd him, "That's lame. Maybe if you wingman me with Spidey I could help you out with some girl," you suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," and that was that for that subject.

After that, the subject wasn't brought up again for the rest of the day. You and Jungkook followed your usual plans, walking over to uni side by side as soon as you finished getting ready and spending any of your down time together. Unlike last night, you opted to head back to your own apartment for the night, leaving Jungkook to freely roam the city in disguise while you probably daydreamed about the guy he wasn't. He kept you in his mind for the rest of the day, sighing any time he remembered how easy it was for you to want to pair him off to another girl, knowing his feelings surely would never be mutual.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, it was extremely difficult for him to ignore your intense interest in Spiderman. His supersonic hearing would not allow him to do so anyway.

He wasn't really in the habit of getting into your private business. Despite his superhuman abilities, he had sworn to himself that he would never spy on you or use any of his newfound skills to ever insert himself in places of your life where he wasn't openly invited.

However ...

Okay, it's not like he meant to be so quiet when he came into your apartment. And it's not like you hadn't invited him beforehand. It was very likely that you wouldn't have minded him hearing the conversation you were currently having with your friend on the phone since it technically did not concern him, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty at being made privy of the details of it.

And the details were harsh to listen to — but not in a bad way.

His nails dug into the edge of the wall as he began making sense of what you were saying — of who you were talking about. His eyebrows furrowed, not sure if in annoyance or if in frustration. Your commentary simply had an unexpected effect on him.

"Oh my God, don't ask me that!," you giggled, scandalized at your phone, "I can't think of him that way, I like him too much. It feels almost disrespectful," you whispered the last bit, as if ashamed yet still giddy.

Without any context, the hopeless romantic side of Jungkook's brain might've allowed him to think you were talking about him. His bionic hearing could make out your friend's words on the other side of the phone perfectly, however, which proved to him that you were in fact speaking of someone else — kind of.

"What, you're talking about him all the time but you tell me you've never had any thoughts of fucking him?", your friend teased on the other aide of the call, causing you to whine in response.

"Of course I have!," you argued back, making Jungkook mentally wince at the thought, "Everyone and their mom knows I'm into him, of course it's not just some elementary school crush, dude. I want him," you put extra emphasis on your last statement.

"Tell me more," your friend pushed.

Jungkook could hear you shuffling in the sheets, likely kicking your feet around due to the giddy emotions thinking about your crush caused within you.

"There's nothing to tell ..." you murmured, avoidant.

"There is, c'mon! It's not like you can talk about this with Jungkook. He hates him," she reminded you, causing Jungkook to nod to himself from the other side of the wall.

"He doesn't hate him. I think he just finds my crush ... dumb," you responded. You were right. Well, kind of.

"Okay, I don't care about that. I wanna hear more about him. You said you were going to try and see him. Have you?", your friend continued to push.

This made Jungkook pause.

Would you actually go as far as to try and seek out Spiderman? How would you even find him?

"Well," you started, dragging out the vowel, "I caught a peak of him the other day — don't say anything!," you interrupted yourself, "Jungkook doesn't know, it just happened the other day. And he'll call me reckless or something."

"What'd you see?", your friend was clearly excited at the news, ecstatic to heat more. Jungkook was more so anxious to hear more. How had he not spotted you?

"I caught him in the middle of changing out of his suit ..." you whispered, as if someone could possibly be listening in — if only you knew.

"What?!," if your friend was excited, she was over the moon now.

"I saw him making his way through the city with his little webs and he stopped by near me. It was total luck, but I recognized the alley where he stopped and ran there," you recounted, "All I could see by the time I got there was a guy speed walking away from the alley while adjusting a black sweatshirt — it was obviously him! Even speed walking he was too fast for me," you finished with an intake of breath.

"So you're saying you saw his abs, basically," was all your friend responded.

"Stop!," you whined, "But yeah ... I might've gotten to see his happy trail ... He had a mask and beanie on, so I didn't catch his face at all," he could hear the pout on your face, "Not that I wanted to! I'd never wanna find him out without his permission. I just wanted to see him up close."

Jungkook believed this. He knew that you'd respect anyone's privacy, specially someone who you had grown certain affection for.

He was still shocked by this information, though. You'd spotted him? How had he not noticed you? And on top of it all, you'd almost caught him suit-less. A tiny, and frankly stupid, part of him felt a little cocky at knowing you'd seen him in action — at knowing you'd seen part of his body and liked it. His regular self was quite modest around you, not wanting to cross any boundaries nor cause you to feel liberal enough to walk around bare near his vicinity (his brain would just not he able to handle that). It was already hard enough for him to see you in those tiny little shorts and tank tops you'd wear to sleep during the summer. He hoped he had a similar effect on you, and knowing he somewhat had it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And then your conversation continued.

"You should've followed him, you dumbass! Don't you wanna know where that happy trail leads?," your friend encouraged.

"As much as I'd love to get him in bed, I can't just stalk him! Iron Man's secret identity didn't last too long, we'll probably know who Spidey is within a few years and I'll be first in line to get to him," you giggled.

"What are you gonna do once you get to him?"

"Not to get nasty, but the first thing I'd do would be–"

That's when Jungkook stomped his feet and made his presence to you known, acting as if he'd just arrived. There was no way he'd be able to hear your thoughts and still be able to look you in the eye afterward.

"Y/N? You home?", he stealthily made his way back to the front door before calling out to you, surely interrupting your conversation.

"Shit, never mind, Kook's here. Gotta go," you said a quick goodbye to your friend before making your way to the living room and welcoming Jungkook.

"Kookie! I forgot you were coming," you walked over to him to give him a quick hug; your usual greeting.

"You should just assume I'm coming at any time," he mumbled into the hug, pulling away and immediately finding his rightful place on your couch, soon joined by you.

"So, what's new?", he turned to you with interest.

You cocked your head to the side in a questioning manner, "Nothing? You just saw me yesterday," you scoff.

"Nothing new with your spider boy?", he feigned disinterest.

"You never wanna hear about him. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe I want to be more supportive," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

From his peripheral he could tell you were looking at him with curiosity in your eyes, likely pondering about his change of heart. It took you a few seconds of silence before shrugging off his unusual interest and continuing the conversation.

"I might've spotted him the other day ...", now you were the one to mumble, looking down to avoid what you likely believed would be a judgmental reaction from him.

"R-really?", he scratched the back of his head, "Where? What'd you see?"

"Y'know, just him swinging around. Saw him heading home, I think. Then I lost track of him," you told him once you'd realized this wasn't some ruse to scold you for your interest again.

"What would you do if you actually met him someday?", he asked nonchalantly. Or at least as nonchalantly as he could manage while recalling the prior response he'd interrupted when you'd been talking to your friend.

Shrugging, you pressed your lips into a line as you pondered it for a bit, "I'd just tell him I'm his fan, I guess. I'd probably be too shy to even speak to him. It's like talking to your high school crush; you just avoid them as much as you can til it goes away," you chuckled to yourself.

He hummed, "Well, if the day ever comes, I think it'd be worth a try to talk to him. Maybe he'll like what he hears."

You nodded along, seemingly mulling over it inwardly, but saying nothing more regarding the matter. Jungkook joined you in dropping the subject, moving on to your usual movie night whilst also thinking over your sudden spotting of his masked self. It was odd to him how you'd somehow spotted him, but that was really the last thing on his mind. What concerned him the most was the sudden desire he felt to fulfill that need to see you while he was in his suit. He craved for you to return his feelings and there was a thoughtless side of him that wanted to get that reaction out of you, even if it meant you'd be reciprocating it to someone else.

Jungkook knew this was a stupid and reckless thing to do.

If Tony Stark were here in this moment, he'd probably take away the brand new suit he'd recently made for him. However, Jungkook was only 21, his hormones were still going crazy; crazy enough for him to make dumb and uncontrolled decisions just based off his feelings.

This was how he came to find himself pacing back and forth on the terrace of your apartment building whilst suited up. Muttering out loud to himself, he fought against himself as to whether or not he should go through with what had been bugging at him since speaking to you about your almost-encounter last week.

After mulling over it for a bit, he came to realize that there was no true harm to actually granting your wish of meeting Spiderman. He knew you to be a reasonable person (despite your claims of wanting to fuck Spiderman — who was a complete stranger to you) and felt reassured that you wouldn't put his identity at risk. On top of that, you had claimed that you probably wouldn't be able to even speak to him if you were to meet him.

The biggest issue was to come up with a reason as to why he'd be paying you a visit in particular. Maybe you were completely clueless as to your best friend's secret identity, but you weren't an idiot. His motives and identity would be immediately suspicious to you due to the strange nature of his apparition. Sure, he could hide his face and voice and even demeanor, but you'd be able to piece the pieces together too easily, anyone would.

Unluckily for him, this was not something he had to worry about for too long, as his plans did not go as smoothly as he had hoped. Just in between his nonsensical rambles to himself, there was an interruption orchestrated by you, with your sudden presence in the terrace throwing him completely off guard. Thank God he hadn't had a chance to take off his mask before you showed up.

"Oh my God," were your only words as you slowly made your way through the door leading to the terrace, choosing not to make your presence unknown.

"Shit," was his sole response, wincing from behind the mask.

"What- what are you doing here? Is it really you?", you asked, slowly making your way closer to his frozen self.

Attempting to switch over to his usual confident demeanor, Jungkook stood up straighter, hands on his hips as he waved over at you. The eyes displayed on his mask replicated his actual facial expression, squinting at you in a friendly manner as he tried to introduce himself in the least awkward way he could muster whilst deepening his voice in order to mask it.

"Hello! I- Yes, it's me! I- uh, was not expecting anyone to be here," he managed, walking over to you and giving you a handshake — something quite out of character for Spiderman, which he hoped you didn't pick up on.

Unfortunately, you did pick up on it, tilting your head to the side in curiosity before returning his handshake. From Jungkook's perspective, you seemed like a mixture of nerves, excitement and genuine curiosity. He couldn't blame you. Your idol/crush had suddenly showed up on the roof of your apartment and was nonchalantly trying to make acquaintances with you.

"I'm so sorry!," you suddenly chirped, letting go of his hand mid handshake, "I wasn't following you, I swear! I live downstairs and sometimes I come up here for air and I saw you and I thought it was you — and it is you! Wow, I- Fuck, hi. I'm Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," you rambled on and on, inflicting pain in Jungkook's heart at how adorable you were.

"Hi, again," he smiled under the mask, "It's fine, uh, this happens more than you may think," he lied, attempting to cover his tracks.

"Really? Do you get spotted a lot?", you wondered.

"It's not super rare, but it's usually while I'm on the run, not like, uh, like this. I was just resting for a bit," he went to casually lean against the railing next to him but pathetically slipping a bit and having to readjust his standing.

He cleared his throat, "So, I take it you're a fan?", he attempted to make conversation.

"I'm literally obsessed with you. I keep up with every article that comes out about you and any sighting of yours," you beamed before cringing to yourself, "Shit, I'm not playing it cool at all, am I?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, "No, you're good, trust me. Most people just scream and run away or ask me to do a backflip — which I can totally do, but it gets repetitive. Others attack me sometimes. It's rare to actually start conversation with me."

"Oh, so am I special, then?", you giggled, taking a few steps forward as you moved to lean on the railing next to him.

And just like that, you took the upper hand in the conversation. The mood shifted the moment you decided to start a flirtation with him, and Jungkook knew he was completely doomed.

Yes, you were absolutely special. Sure, he would occasionally interact with regular citizens of Queens, but he had never actually sought them out for conversation nor even entertained any fanatics of his. For you, however, he was willing to make an exception. God, he had been itching to do this from the moment he found out you had an infatuation with the superhero.

"Y- you- yeah," he cleared his throat, trying again, "You're the only person who hasn't alerted everyone around me of my presence," he regained his suave vibe by the end of the sentence.

"Why would I ever do that?", you pondered out loud, using a flirtatious tone Jungkook had never been on the receiving end of, "Then I wouldn't get to have you all for myself."

Were you closer? Had you moved closer in proximity? He could swear that the distance had lessened from just a few moments ago. This wasn't good, but it was also great.

"O-oh? That's ... Yes, hah, thank you for not exposing me," was all he managed to say. Fuck, his usual wit and ability to banter under the guise of being Spiderman seemingly dissipated when it came to interacting with you.

You giggled at him, likely taking note of how easy it was to fluster him. Jungkook knew you were aware of how attractive you were, also having the ability you turn up the charm whenever you so wished — except he had never dealt with it firsthand. It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking at the same time. He had truly not prepared for this.

"It's no problem," you smiled at him with a hint of something else in your eye, "Since you're such a good guy, y'know, maybe you'd like to return the favor?", you tilted your head at him, lifting your eyebrows suggestively.

"R-repay? How would you suggest?", he managed to regain some of his confidence, now leaning his body a bit more towards your own, smiling under his mask as he attempted to keep his heart rate normal.

"I'm sure you're super busy saving the world and all that, but maybe you'd like to visit again? No one ever comes up here, so it'd just be the two of us," you suggested, biting your lip in anticipation. Despite your confidence, Jungkook could still hear the rapid thumping of your heart — you were nervous about shooting your shot with a certain superhero; understandably so.

He decided to take advantage of the newfound realization that you might've been just as nervous as he was, clearing his throat and ensuring he didn't stutter this time around, "That'd be unfair, though, wouldn't it? To show you favoritism over all my other fans?", he said in flirtatious jest, hoping you caught on.

A pout far too enticing for Jungkook made its way to your lips, "But you just said I was special?", your hand went up to his chest, finger tracing the spider symbol on it.

"I never said that, you did," you couldn't see the teasing grin on his face, but it was there to stay.

"Oh?", you feigned offense, "So you don't think I'm special? Wow, now you really do owe me."

"You're right. Wouldn't want any unhappy citizens in Queens when I can help it," he agreed, taking hold of your wrist and tracing the back of it.

You smiled to yourself then, letting air out through your nose before looking back up at him, "I really do mean it. If you ever need a place to lay low, you can always come," you paused, "And ... If you ever want company, I'm just downstairs," you suggested.

Biting his lips from behind the mask, he nodded, letting go of your hand, "Yeah, I'll take that in mind," he checked his wrist despite there being no watch there, pulling a chuckle from you, "Unfortunately, I have to get back to patrolling now, but I'll see you around?", he asked as he climbed up the ledge of your building, ready to swing away.

"That's up to you, Spiderman," were the last words you said, though they were spoken with a confidence that told him you knew he'd be coming back.

Within just a month, Jungkook had lost count of the times he'd coincidentally found himself on your roof, always showing up at a similar time as that of your first encounter.

At first he played it off as a coincidence, cheekily claiming that he was just passing by and needed some rest. Other times, he'd show up due to legitimate exhaustion as he sought you out for comfort. It was very quick that you began a genuine friendship with one another, having an unspoken agreement of seeing each other there a few times a week late into the afternoon.

The flirtation was still present, but a friendship between you overtook that. This made Jungkook glad in a sense, as he knew he would've felt guilty if anything romantic ever came up without you knowing his real identity. He already felt badly about befriending you without your knowledge, but he felt like he was too late to back out now.

Today was yet another day in which he decided to show up, though this time a little later. Since you lived at the highest floor of your building, his mere presence on the roof was enough to alert you of his arrival, causing you to walk through the door leading to the staircase just moments later.

You were in your pajamas — just some small shorts and a tank top, but it was enough for his eyes to bug out of his head (figuratively, of course). Any time he'd stay over with you, you'd usually opt for a shirt long enough to cover halfway through your thighs, but since Jungkook wasn't present tonight it seemed like you'd chosen a tank top tight enough it'd give him the perfect view of your nipples peaking through the fabric. It bugged him to think you were doing this for Spiderman and not Jungkook, but he was too distracted by the sight of you to mind it too much.

"Hey," you greeted him as you headed his way, "A little late today, huh?"

"Yeah, uh, I was busy with a robbery," he explained, leaning against the veranda as you joined next to him.

"Oh? That sounds dangerous? Are you hurt? Maybe I should take a look?", your hand went up to his chest, pretending to check for injuries.

He laughed and you joined him, biting his lip under the mask, "You're even more dangerous than any bad guy out there, you know that?", he grabbed your wrist and took your hand off his chest, opting to shyly hold onto it instead.

"Me? I'm not the masked man showing up at an unsuspecting girl's apartment in the middle of the night," you teased, hand playing with his own.

"I thought I wouldn't be a stranger by now. We've been meeting for what, a month now? I'd say that's enough to get to know a person," he reasoned.

"Hmm," you pretended to mull over it, "Does that mean there's no chance you'll let me see what's under that mask?", you pouted at him.

This was not the first time you teased him about his secret identity, often bugging him (in a way far too entertaining for him to be actually bugged by it) to let you in on his secret. You swore up and down you'd never tell, offering up your pinky to intertwine with his. Jungkook liked you so much that there were various instances in which he had to catch himself before he ended up agreeing with your request.

"You know I can't do that, gorgeous," it was his turn to flirt. To be fair, as Spiderman, he did have a flirtatious streak to his personality. You weren't the only one on the receiving end of it, but you sure were the only one he meant it with. You also always giggled or blushed when he turned up the charm, which always instigated him into doing it more and more.

"But you said I was special," you reminded him with a smile, "And! We've been meeting for a while. Don't you wanna trust at least one person with your identity? Y'know, if something were to happen to you," even Jungkook could tell you were pulling your reasoning out of your ass, but he couldn't help but feel endeared by you.

Before he could fire back with an equally cheeky response, you interrupted him again, "How about you let me see you some other way?"

He cocked his head to the side with curiosity, unknowing of what you meant.

Hesitantly, your hand let go of his, now engulfing it with both of your hands. Your fingers traced his hands through his gloves, looking up at him for a moment to seek permission for what you were going to go next. Silently, he offered you a nod, allowing you to take off his gloves.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel slightly scared that you might recognize his hands, but finding no reaction in your eyes or heart rate (which he could hear perfectly any time he neared you), he felt calm. Your hands traced his own bare ones, eventually holding them in your own. The entirety of the interaction was soft and intimate in a way Jungkook had never experienced.

"Can I see more?", you asked after a while, voice almost a whisper.

"What- what would you like to see?", he whispered back, gulping at how close to you he suddenly felt.

Once more, your hand silently went up to touch him, but this time it reached his chest, laying flat against it before slowly finding the opening in the middle, allowing you to peek at a sliver of his bare chest. Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed onto your hands on his chest and helped you open his body suit a little more, just enough to reveal his chest.

Your hands softly traced at a few cuts and bruises found there, pouting to yourself as you stared at the firm muscle under your hands. Silence engulfed you for a few moments as he enjoyed your affections.

"Well, this seems kinda unfair," he started with a quiet voice, "You're getting me naked, feeling me up. Making me feel like a piece of meat," he joked.

You stifled a chuckle, "Don't think I didn't notice you looking at my boobs when I got here, you perv. I'm just getting my payback," your hands went back to his hands, taking them in your own.

He gaped at you from under his mask, "I- I would never!", he rasped out, "The fact that you would even accuse me of that- I- I am appalled, Y/N Y/L/N," he gave you an exaggerated gasp.

"Okay, whatever," you rolled your eyes, "Can I keep going now?", you asked as you went back to tracing his suit with your hands, this time reaching up to his neck.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as you stared up at him. He knew that all you could see was the comically large eyes featured on his mask, but he was still affected by the look on your face. Your mouth was agape and your eyes kept going down to where you knew his lips would be. Without being able to help himself, his hands wrapped around your waist, feeling the sliver of skin between your shorts and your tank top. In all your years of friendship, Jungkook had never been able to hold you like this. It was exhilarating.

There was no need for any words as your hands found his mask, lifting it up to uncover his lips and lay right below his nose. Jungkook knew he should've been more careful in letting anyone — even you — even make contact with his mask, but his eyes had been trained on your lips from the moment you got your hands on him. His mind was in another planet at the moment.

There was, again, no reaction from you that could've led Jungkook to believe you had recognized him. Was the shape of his lips not obvious enough? Were you too distracted to notice? It truly made no sense to him, but the proximity of your lips had him too distracted to think about it too much.

That was when the moment Jungkook had been waiting for for years finally came to fruition. Your lips made contact with his own, very tentative and shy in their movements. Mere seconds happened until he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as he held you against him.

It was a bit awkward due to the obstacle the mask proved itself to be, but Jungkook didn't care. He was far too drunk in you to consider anything around him, specially when the kiss grew heated within moments. Pressing you up against the veranda, Jungkook let out all pent up need against tour mouth, hoping in the back of his mind that you wouldn't realize it was him you were kissing.

Sadly, it all ended before Jungkook could really lose himself in it. You pulled away with a giggle at the way his body insisted on following yours, attempting to trap you in another kiss. He couldn't help but chuckle back, still not letting go of you.

"Hmm, ever let any of your other fans go that far?", you hummed when he buried his face on the crook of your neck, pressing shy kisses on the bare skin.

"N-no, just you," he muttered, pulling back to readjust his suit, now covering himself back up.

"Boo," you complained once he was completely covered up again, crossing your arms petulantly, "What, time for you to go?"

"Sadly, yes. I'm a busy man, pretty. Need to get back out there to ensure pretty girls like you remain safe," he coo'd at you jokingly, pinching your nose adoringly before beginning to climb the veranda in order to leave.

"You know this isn't a one-time thing, right?", you called from below him.

"Oh, I'll make sure it's not, baby," he chuckled before saluting you as he jumped down, disappearing from your view almost immediately.

He arrived home soon after that, too giddy to even consider patrolling that night. The smile wouldn't leave his face, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He felt like such a teenager at the excitement cruising through him, but the remnants of the feeling of your mouth on his simply wouldn't leave him.

He knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell you about who he was, but he wanted to enjoy your newfound relationship as much as he could. So far, you hadn't told him about your frequent encounters with Spiderman, which led him to believe you felt the same way. Clearly you wanted to keep him as your own little secret, which only made him the giddier about it all.

There were occasions in which Jungkook simply didn't plan things out to well. Today was one of those days.

Having no one aware of his identity proved to be more bothersome than he had first assumed. Sure, he could lie about his location to his friends and family with ease, keep any troubling encounters with criminals to himself, but it was the aftermath of these encounters that sometimes came to be too much for him to handle.

He had been reckless tonight, somehow miscalculating every single one of his moves when taking down a crew of armed robbers. He hadn't even meant to come across them nor fight them on his own (Tony Stark had warned him about this before), but it's not like he could've walked away without at least attempting to deal with the situation.

In the end, he was victorious, and his current state proved as much. It was not a simple fight, resulting in his suit getting mangled all over, with many of the injuries penetrating into his actual skin.

Battered and covered in bruises and scratches all over, Jungkook had no idea where to go. This was one of the first times in which Jungkook found himself limping and unknowing of how to patch himself up before the sun rose. His plan had been poor, which only reminded him what a stupid decision it was to try and handle the situation on his own rather than to leave it up to the police.

But his terrible planning skills did not stop there. They evolved into finding himself standing on the fire escape that led directly to your apartment. With his arms holding onto his sides to try and alleviate the pain, he reached out to knock on your window, hoping 2AM wasn't too late for you to come find him.

It was only moments when you showed up in your pajamas, a shocked yet worried look on your face as you opened up your fire escape entrance to him.

"Oh my God, what happened?", you asked whilst ushering him in, providing him with support so he could make it over to your room and lay on your bed.

"You should see the other guy," he rasped, coughing out.

"Stop! Fuck, how can I help you? What do you need?", you frantically went over to your restroom, returning with a makeshift first aid kit.

You sat next to him on the bed, helping him sit up so you could check out his injuries. His suit had multiple scratches that revealed slivers of his skin, but there was nothing you hadn't seen the previous time he had been over.

"It was just a robbery gone wrong. Nothing to worry about," he finally said, wincing when you began to open up his suit to better check his injuries. Your hands immediately went to try and take care of the cuts on his stomach, moving anything out of the way in order to reach them.

"You idiot," you muttered, "This is gonna hurt, okay? Just breathe deep," you warned before moving on to dab on his injuries with some ointment. Hissing at the burn, his stomach hardened, causing him to recoil a bit.

"Jungkook, be still," you hissed back at him, scoffing when he suddenly stilled at the mention of his name.

"W-what? What did you just say?",

You paid him no mind, still putting all your focus in his injuries, "Do you think I'm dumb, Jungkook? You show up to hang out with me and let me feel you up and you think I won't recognize you? You really are an idiot," you chuckled by the end.

"You- you knew?! This whole time?", he gaped at you, throwing off his mask as he groaned at the way you blatantly laughed at his shock, "God, you suck."

"C'mon, Jungkook. You're a horrible liar. And I'm your best friend, you can't hide anything from me."

"Whatever," he huffs, followed by a wince from your manhandling of his injuries, "You could've told me," he muttered petulantly.

You finally looked back at him, with a stern look in your eyes Jungkook only ever saw whenever you were about to tell him off, "Oh, like you told me? Dude, you were more than fine pretending not to know me," you jabbed at him, "Dickhead," you muttered once you were done.

It was his time to chuckle, jabbing at your leg with his own and smirking when you pushed back.

"So, is this you admitting you've wanted to fuck me all this years?"

You scoffed, "Me? I wanted to fuck Spiderman. Not my fault it turned out to be you," you argued as you wrapped some bandages on the cuts found alonh his torso, "You're the one who came after me cause you wanted to fuck me."

"Okay, fine," he relented, patting at the wraps you'd just secured on him, "What's the verdict now? Still want to fuck me?", he leaned in with a smirk, smirk growing even bigger at your playful scowl.

"Shut up and come here," you practically growled at him, pulling him to you by his shoulders and catching him in a kiss.

It was almost effortless the way in which Jungkook pushed you back on the bed, easily climbing on top of you as he kissed you. His hand was on your back as he lowered your body to lay flat on the bed, ignoring any injury he may have had. Everything left his mind as he kissed you — the burglary, the secret he thought he had been keeping from you, the relief you now knew; everything.

"Kook," you sighed when his lips reached the length of your neck, softly nibbling at your skin every so often.

"You're so bad," he murmured, "Lying to me this whole time ... Making me look like an idiot while I tried to keep my secret from you," he reprimanded with a love bite.

"You're the idiot who- oh," your complaint was interrupted by the sudden presence of his hands on your breasts, feeling at your nipples through the thin barrier of your tank top.

"Shh, baby. You may have had the upper hand all these years, but now I'm in charge," he shushed you, "Never looked my way, but kept tryna get in my pants as Spidey? Bad, bad girl," he murmured as his lips came closer and closer to your chest, eventually reaching your nipples and wrapping his mouth around the clothed skin, engulfing the cloth with his saliva as he abused your nipple with his teeth.

You writhed under him, both frustrated at the barrier and affected by the stimulation, "Hmm, and you're good at dealing with the bad guys, right, Kookie?", you murmured, already delirious with his touch.

In the meantime, his hands went up to your breasts, lifting up the shirt and smoothly managing to throw it off before his hands went right back to playing with your tits.

"Oh, yeah. Gonna take care of you, baby. Gonna fuck all the bad out of you," he sighed at the sight of your nude torso, hips unable to help themselves in beginning to grind against you.

He trapped you under him, using you for his own pleasure. However, if your moans were anything to go by, he had a great idea of his current effect on you. Holding you down, he kissed you up and down, going from your breasts to your lips all while his hips danced with your own. At some point his hands snuck down to help you pull off your shorts and panties low enough to give him access to you. By now, you were basically completely nude while he remained in his scratched up suit. Seemed unfair, but it worked for Jungkook.

With curious hands, he reached down to your bare cunt, beginning to finger his way to your clit. His thumb found it with a swiftness you could only expect from a man like Jungkook. Synchronizing his hand and hips, he ground down on you while thumbing at the puffy pearl between your legs.

"Right there, huh?", he murmured at your increasingly high-pitched sighs, "That's where you need it, huh, baby?"

Warm eyes stared down at yours, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked you all the way to your peak. Not a single part of him was occupied with anything but you — his lips tended to your own, his hand to your clit, his hips to your cunt, he was consumed by you whilst consuming you himself.

All his senses were heightened. His superhuman hearing allowed him to take in every noise of wetness coming south and every cry coming north. He could smell you perfectly, which only added to the delirious feeling you always provoked in him.

"I- Kookie, I'm gonna cum ... Keep going, I'm almost there, fuck," you cried as his movements sped up. Unbeknownst to you, he let out a sigh of relief at realizing your orgasm would come before his own. He was bursting inside his suit, almost ready to pounce you.

"Yeah? Cum for me, pretty. Need you to cum for me, okay? Promise I'll ... I'll fuck the bad out of you right after," he swore, lips finding their way to your ear as he whispered words of encouragement to you.

With a desperate nod, you continued to cry out his name, hands finding his bicep for support as you let yourself go. Jungkook took in every sound, every move, every single reaction coming from you. He memorized every bit of your orgasm and let himself be ruined by it.

Upon the crescendo of your orgasm, wet sounds filled up the room once more as his lips made their rightful way to yours once again. He sighed praise into your lips, calling you his good girl and his dream, claiming you to be the greatest reward he could ever receive.

"Thought I was bad, Kook? What happened to that?", you teased him, beginning to slowly rip off his suit in order to get him equally as nude as yourself.

"Baby, shut up. Just let me fuck you," he scolded, annoyed your words were interrupting his kisses.

"Hmm, do superheroes need condoms, or are you going in raw?", you asked so casually it made Jungkook's grip on you tighten involuntarily.

"Don't talk like that, fuck, I'll cum," he winced before backtracking with wide eyes, "Shit, wait. You'd let me do it raw?", he gaped at you, interrupting the kiss.

You laughed at him, giving him a single peck, "Course, Kook. Trust you more than anyone," you said, sharing the first moment of pure softness of the night.

Jungkook loved how easy it was for you to share friendly banter and bug at each other even under this context, but he couldn't lie when he said he adored those moments of unadulterated adoration you'd share any time you looked up at him while he was Spiderman. This was reminiscent of those moments, but so much better — especially being now aware that every single one of those looks had been directed at Jungkook, not Spiderman.

"Yeah?," he smiled at you, intertwining your fingers above your head, "Trust you too, beautiful," he let go of one of your hands to line himself up, groaning as he traced his tip up and down your folds before finally entering you.

"God, Kook," you sighed, arching your back at the feeling.

"I know, fuck," he matched your tone, burying his face in your neck while he gave you some time to get used to him, "Let me know when I can move, okay, baby? Feel so fucking good already."

You nodded wordlessly, using your free hand to dig your nails on the skin of his back. After about a minute you gave him the green light to move, dragging your nails down his back when he began to thrust, slowly building up his speed snd intensity.

"That feel good, pretty?", he murmured into your ear.

"Mhm!", you practically whined, attempting to move your hips to his rhythm, "D-don't stop."

Unburying himself from the crook of your neck, his hands went to your face to make you look into his eyes. He looked at you silently for a few moments with softness in his eyes, proceeding to locking your lips in a kiss as he continued to fuck into you. It was all very intense yet it carried an air of intimacy Jungkook knew he would never be able to replicate.

"Tell me you're almost there, shit. 'm gonna cum soon, pretty," he warned, thrusts accelerating in both speed and intensity.

"Yes! Almost there, just- keep going," you whined, hands reaching his hips to further encourage his movements. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, your body took control and did its best to follow his movements, making Jungkook's orgasm even more imminent.

"Think I can count you down?" he grumbled, eyebrows furrowed and demonstrating the amount of restraint in him at the moment.

"Yes, c-count me down," you nodded aggressively.

"Kay, pretty. Cum with me, yeah? In three," his hand went to toy at your clit once more, making you hiss in pleasure, "two ..." his hips readjusted to hit at that one spongey spot he'd been ramming at, but now harder, "one," he groaned the last word, almost falling limp against you as his movements stilled.

He could feel himself emptying inside you, kissing at your skin endlessly at how intimate the act felt. Meanwhile, you mewled nonstop under him, not helping his situation at all. He felt as if life halted for a moment, with everything aligning perfectly as he enjoyed both his and your orgasm.

"God ... Fuck, I can't believe it took us this long to do that," he sighed when it was all said and done.

You pushed at him, making him remove his weight off you and lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling just like you, "You're the dumbass who wouldn't tell me you liked me," you huffed.

"Well, if I'm that much of a dumbass, why did you never tell me you knew who I was- Which, by the way! How long have you known?", he was still fairly breathless, but entirely too curious.

You took a pause to laugh at him for a moment, only stopping when he gave you a menacing stare, "Since the first day you came to see me," you started, "You moved and talked just like Jungkook, and it made no sense for you to come see me out of all people," you revealed.

His body turned to its side, arm reaching out to make you cuddle against him, "Why didn't you say anything?", he pouted.

"I don't know," you shrugged, "Wanted you to tell me about your identity on your own. Not my fault you're too dumb," you murmured that last part."

"Okay, whatever. You're my Spidey girlfriend now anyway, so it doesn't matter anymore," he huffed.

"Oh? I don't recall anyone asking me to be their 'Spidey girlfriend,' do you?"

"Fine," he groaned, "Give me ten minutes and I'll give you a full-on confession of love, okay?"

"Can't wait," you laughed.

to read short 1.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, dry humping, teasing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 212 (teaser); 1308 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"You're the vain of my existence, you know that, right?", you groaned at Jungkook's sudden presence on your fire escape.

"Is that how you talk to your boyfriend? I spend all day fighting evil and come back to nothing but disrespect," he complained jokingly, making his way into your room as if he owned the place.

"Boyfriend? Last I remember, I'm dating Spiderman, not Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook never asked me out," you trailed behind him, guiding him to take a seat in your couch.

"That joke's getting so old," he boo'd at you, "Plus, I literally have the suit on. Should I put on the mask? Is my face that ugly?" he continued his complaints, taking a seat on your couch and pulling you towards him, his inhuman strength managing to get you straddling him with minimal effort.

"No," you coo'd, "I like Jungkook's face just fine," your hands went to play with his hair, kissing at his cheek softly, "So, who were the bad guys today? Robbers? Bullies?"

"Nothing much today, just some guy stealing a bike and then a lost cat," he mumbled, "Still spent most of the day patrolling, though," he said as he buried his face in your chest, allowing you complete access to playing with his hair.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[according2thelore]

that linelemon art you just reblogged makes me think baby sam should’ve worn his hair LONG long. other kids think he’s a girl which makes dean mad but sam doesn’t care :)

UM. YES. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS YES.

we see dean in the show (esp early seasons but really throughout) have a very set idea of masculinity and what a man can and cannot do without ridicule. sam catches a ton of shit for his hair in the show, i can only imagine what a sammy with long hair would incur from dean as they grow up.

he'd be torn i think between samantha jokes and snarling and snapping like a dog at kids that make jokes. very much "only i get to make fun of him."

and i feel like for sam, his hair is one of the only actual forms of self-expression he gets. all of his clothes are hand-me-downs or bought from army surplus stores. his hobbies only remain such until they enroll in a school that doesn't have that club/sport/activity anymore. his hair is something that he takes pride in! he likes how long hair makes him feel! he feels more genuinely himself than any part of his life or identity actually does.

maybe dean asks a girl in his math class to teach him how to braid so he can braid sam's hair up for his soccer games! and almost gets into a fist-fight with a pta mom that tries to get sam thrown out of the game for being a girl in a boy's league.

but in my head sam is just one of those kids that rails against any styling or anything! his hair is his!!! maybe if john or dean bribes him with something will dean finally get a comb through that rat's nest. but baby sammy couldn't be happier :)

but if we want to take this in a more samdean direction which I Always Do, i think sam might like looking "like a girl" as he gets into his teens bc...well...dean likes girls. they go out to a movie one time and someone makes an off-handed comment about 'your date' and sam is pink-cheeked, alarm-bells-screeching, heart-rate-thudding astounded. and thrilled. really fucking thrilled.

dean rags on teen!sam for his hair and his knobby knees and his quickness to blush, and to sam there's no way to make that appealing. he might not even realize that that's what he's doing, but the impulse to make himself feel attractive, like someone dean would find attractive, is innate, a part of sam's own intertwined want. dean is all green-eyed, soft-lips, high-school-knockout gorgeous, so the least sam can do is be a fucking girl.

a part of sam thrills at the mistake, even as dean quickly corrects the person handing them the ticket stubs.

anon we are holding hands and frolicking in a meadow rn

baby sammy with long hair!!!!! is something that can be so real and personal!!!!!!

-lizzy

[wndaswife]

Do you have any book recommendations?

yeah! :-) im not sure what kind of books you’re looking for so here r a few i like

normal people: not particularly outstanding to me lol but i really liked the subtle intimacy of it and i rly love stories that go over a span of years. the book is about two people who know each in high school and it follows them up until a few years into college. you get to see how their relationship develops n how their lives can’t seem to stop intertwining no matter how much they change over the years

life of pi: so incredibly SLOW in the beginning (tho it was important). the book is about a boy who travels with a ship of animals as he immigrates with his family, bringing the zoo they own with them. the ship crashes and pi is stranded on a boat with a tiger. he learns to survive throughout the book, some days seeing death only inches away and some days seeing the most beautiful things! a story about faith and identity that is rather philosophical as well :^)

alice’s adventures in wonderland: it’s a pretty great movie too and i think most people have seen it!!!! but the book is incredible, the writing is so bizarre and creative. here is a quote:

‘you promised to tell me your history, you know,’ said alice, ‘and why it is that you hate — C and D,’ she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.

‘mine is a long and sad tale!’ said the mouse, turning to alice and sighing.

‘it is a long tail, certainly,’ said alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse’s tail; ‘but why do you call it sad?’

and the next page is the mouse telling its story while in the shape of a winding tail because that’s how alice imagined the context :”D it’s just so fun to read, very lighthearted n creative, bizarre to imagine someone could be so creative with word play. (and unrelatedly i also personally rly relate to alice who just lands in the middle of a world that has no sense n just goes along with everything 😭 so it was fun to read because of that too!!)

[somepoetwannabe]

I think some of this is just a misunderstanding really. Not that I think my opinion is any greater than anybody else's, but here's my take on these things just because.

1: I think this is true to an extent. I think this depends from system to system and is more a way of viewing things than an objective fact. What makes someone a "part" or, as I would use, an individual, isn't concrete. You could place that emphasis on having separate physical vessels, but not everybody will. We personally don't. We are our own individuals, but we still reflect an image of a person we could have been. Once you have amnesia and you split, you start to develop separately. It's like if I cut a piece of cloth up and hand it out to different people - they're all going to make something different, but it'll still be out of that cloth, you know? For us, the fact we have different interests and preferences and identities makes us individuals, in our opinion, but that doesn't take away from the person we could have been. In our opinion, this has been a healthier way of looking at it for us - we don't want to view ourselves as broken, not forever. It isn't healthy for everyone to view themselves this way.

2: Again, it's just a different way of looking at things. Personally, I don't see headmates as a part of me and I am not a "part" of them in that sense, I see us all as a part of a person that could have been. But we aren't that person. We didn't get to be. That person never developed. We developed as individuals of whoever they would have been, and we grew to be our own individuals after. My headmates are "a part of me" in the sense a family would be - we are separate people but we are intertwined. I think it's important to note that this is a normal way to view things with this disorder. Dissociative identity disorder. I am dissociated from parts of "my" identity. That's what this disorder fucking is. Like. Yeah. I'm not going to see them as "me" it's a part of the symptoms. And. You know. Not everyone is heading for final fusion. So it's alright to keep seeing it that way.

3: This is true. I think everyone agrees with this one and has just misunderstood the point. You can split a certain specific alter because of a hyperfixation, but a split is ALWAYS caused by stress/trauma. The reason it's specifically that guy might be because of the hyperfixation, but the split itself will be because of stress/trauma. I hope that makes sense.

4: Just true. No debate.

5: This is true, but there is a little bit of nuance. It can certainly feel real. You can certainly feel like you're drunk or hurt and you certainly can go to innerworld hospital - however, this is the imagination working to cope or work through trauma. I don't think it's a "therapy technique" and moreso a coping mechanism via escapism and for us, a way to cognitively process trauma. In our experience, we never made our headspace on purpose. Our headspace exists because, when we were a young child, we often used escapism to cope with our trauma. Our living situation was inescapable physically, so we created a world in our mind to escape to instead. This was partly because it was what we were taught to do. We never went through therapy, but if we expressed a trouble to an adult, the advice was always along the lines of "Go to your happy place". So we created one. And you can get a pretty vivid place imagined up if it's all a child thinks about for 3 years strong, during their most important developmental years too (7-10). For us, headspace feels real. We know it isn't - so it is not a delusion to be clear - but our imagination is vivid and we have grown up with this vivid place in our minds, working on it day by day for years, and our dissociation is horrible enough to make reality and non-reality almost indistinguishable. We are aware it is not a physical place. But for us, it much resembles how flashbacks feel. You can know something isn't real and still experience the sensations you would if it were. Just because it isn't real doesn't take away from the experience.

6: True, as long as you have the capacity to imagine things on that level. Honestly, it isn't even that common to have an innerworld as a system, unlike how people make out. It is normal to have one as a system, and many systems do - but many systems don't. It isn't a requirement. You are valid if you have one, you're valid if you don't.

7: You can get into the philosophy of what "seeing" implies, but I will say I can certainly visualize headmates. I think seeing implies it's physical and concrete, which it isn't, but if you're implying visualizing headmates/alters isn't possible, then I disagree. Headmates/alters do (sometimes) have visualizations. In our personal experience, we can't always "look" at each other when fronting - we can only do that when we're more dissociated and so it feels like we're more inside fronting room than whatever room we're in physically (which is often) - but we can always "look" at each other in headspace.

8: Yeah, I agree with this. You shouldn't care if a random creep online fakeclaims you. However, it's a perfectly valid feeling if you do care. Being accused of lying or faking or being a poser can be intensely hurtful. It can make you doubt yourself, not feel safe to be yourself openly, make you feel like you're a bad person, make you feel unheard. It isn't wrong to feel upset about being accused of lying about your experience as a person with a disorder. OSDDID systems are survivors. It can be incredibly distressing to hear somebody falsely and unfairly accuse you of lying or to have what you think is your reality denied, to be demonized and falsely characterized negatively for being open about who you are or to be made feel unsafe while doing so. These things can be triggering for trauma survivors, often because the feelings of fear, injustice and self-doubt can be all too familiar to us. It's important to empathize with fellow systems who can be triggered by fakeclaiming.

9: Ehh. Repeated trauma? Yes. Repeated traumatic events? Maybe not so much. One traumatic event can have a domino effect and really fuck up somebody's life, causing a repeated trauma response. Being a system is caused by the effects trauma has on the person, and if that person feels like the event that happened to them isn't over or is ongoing still and they are still being traumatized by it, they may still develop OSDDID. For example: a child who experiences a severe traumatic event, and then is put back into normal life and expected to function like their non-traumatised peers - this can cause simple, usually non-traumatic things to become traumatic to this child, like school. I think you could develop OSDDID this way, however, I will say that I think most cases of OSDDID are caused by repeated instances.

Hope this makes sense. Honestly my mind is fluff right now but I think this is readable. This is just my insight on things. Also, it's colour-coded for what I agree/disagree/mixed on. Green is agree, orange is eh, red is disagree.

Allright. Since I have smashed back half of my study project I can 1. Do some work on sysboxes. And 2 tell you all about some things of DID and parts/alters

1. If you have DID. Your not multiple parts or multiple "people" your less than one part. Less than one identity because yours didn't Intergrate due to trauma.

2. People with DID aren't literally multiple people in one body. You aren't sharing a body with other individuals. You are "sharing" a body with yourself and yourself only. Alters/parts are you, whether they have their own name or not.

3. You will not form a new alter/part purely based off of a hyperfixation. Parts form due to traumatic experiences and stress!

4. You cannot choose what alters/parts you have. Despite some being adamant that thats the only way you get new alters.

5. Innerworld or headspace does not exist. You cannot get drunk in headspace, you cannot get hurt, you will not get life threatening injuries that send you to an Innerworld hospital. It is a therapy technique. Nothing more nothing less.

6. Innerworlds are something everyone can have. Not just systems. Non disordered people can use this technique as well.

7. You cannot see your alters/parts.

8. People shouldn't care about being fakeclaimed by strangers online. A strangers opinion should not matter to you.

9. The only way to be a system is through repetitive childhood trauma.

- Vesper

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Sad Ending

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries, what have you.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When you're reunited with Damian after year's of being apart, what he doesn't know is that you're there to say goodbye

A/N: This didn't quite turn out how it played out in my head but ig that's partly because I wasn't able to put in the filler parts in between cuz it just didn't fit. In hindsight I could've written a few more k's of words to fit it in but I reached my limit so I hope y'all enjoy it.

Your eyes were trained onto the figure in the crowd of the gala. The same figure it had been pinned to for a few weeks now and it would continue to be that way for as long as you could.

Damian Wayne was just as beautiful as you remembered him, with sharp eyes and a gorgeous face that had your heart leaping to your throat with a simple look. But you believed that the world wasn’t blessed with eyes gifted enough to see the true beauty of him.

A beauty that only someone who knew him on the inside would.

Everything about him was compelling, gorgeous, familiar. You watched him from afar in longing, wishing that you could go up to him but still you kept your distance, fearing the worst if he knew you were here.

Still, you remained selfish, indulging in your desires to get whatever glimpse of him that you could. You kept him away from you however, knowing that once you got a taste of him, you wouldn't be able to pull back.

But it was tough, you had missed him, so much.

Even so, you were content simply watching him.

You thought you were sneaky, that Damian didn't notice. Of course, you overestimated yourself, or underestimated him. And of course, in the traditional Wayne fashion, you had to expose yourself in the most dramatic and eccentric way possible.

The famous Damian Wayne, son of reputable and not to mention rich Bruce Wayne was attacked at the bank by a bunch of thugs, armed with weapons. The security was taken out swiftly and you imagined that Damian would quickly disarm the man threatening him with a knife.

Instead, he made no move, not even bothering to look remotely interested and just held up his hands like he was bored. The bandit, trigger-happy and confused, pulled back the blade in his hand, to try and stab him.

The crowd gasped and whimpered but were silenced by the man pointing a gun at them. Damian still didn't look phased. Instead, he lazily tilted his head until his eyes locked on your figure, hidden in the shadows. You stopped dead, watching carefully as he stared at you, completely tuning out the man putting his life in peril.

When the thug moved again, to try and stab him and Damian still didn't make any move, you leaped from your place before your mind could even process it, wedging yourself between the both of them and quickly disarming the man.

He fell to the ground, screaming in pain when you knocked the weapon out of his hands and then twisted his arm, hearing the painful crack of his shoulder getting pulled out of its socket.

You glared at the man behind you from the corner of your eye, "You could've gotten hurt."

He shrugged, "I knew you'd step in to protect me."

You scoffed, "You put a lot of faith in someone you haven't seen in years."

He just smirked in the infuriating way you knew he would before moving from behind you as more men came at you. With his help it didn't take long before they were all on the ground, either knocked out or groaning in pain.

"Um, can someone call an ambulance for these guys?"

When you turned, Damian was watching you with a small smile and your heart fluttered in your chest. You should've kept him at an arm's distance, you should have left but in the moment all you wanted to do was be in his arms.

Before you could even help yourself, you crashed into his chest like a falling star, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in the familiar scent of him. He held you tightly against him, cradling your head lovingly and gently pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"The league." You whispered to him, remembering why you were here.

Damian shushed you, tightening his arms around you and you were in a safe haven, sighing in relief against him. For a second, all the fear and guilt you had been feeling melted away.

Nothing else mattered as long as you were in his arms.

"We can discuss it back at home, (Y/N)." He muttered, now pulling away so he could lead you away from the police and reporters to his car.

You stared at your fingers intertwined with Damián’s, the engagement ring on your finger glimmering brightly under the sunlight and smiled unconsciously.

"I missed you." You sighed, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. Damian spared you another smile over his shoulder before you caught up with him, leaning into his arm.

"Me too, beloved."

****

"You should get some rest, beloved." Damian muttered, as the others began leaving the room. Your shoulders were still tense but you managed a smile, nodding at him.

"I'll just wash up and join you."

He smiled gently at you, raising your hand and placing a fluttering kiss to your knuckles before leaving. You watched the door as it slid shut and it was only then you let your expressions melt back onto your face.

"You may have the others fooled, but don't think for a second that you've pulled the wall over my eyes." Came from behind you and you froze, eyes widening.

You spun around to see Damian's brother, Tim, inch his way closer to you, figure stiff and guard up.

"Because Damian knows you, I'll assume your identity to be true. Damian was quick to trust you and the others followed suit but something's not adding up. Why are you here?"

His eyes were sharp and his gaze cut right through you. You didn't realize it but your hands were shaking even though you tried hard to maintain your composure.

"I—I told you," You croaked, cringing at your suddenly choked voice, "I was giving up on this life. I'm turning over a new leaf and hiding from the League until that happens."

"Then why come here?"

"I told you—"

"I don't believe you. You know why? Here's the problem with your story." He spoke, coolly, "Take it as a puzzle. The puzzle pieces all fit, but the picture, doesn't make sense. Why come here? When you're on the run from the League of Assassins no less?"

You were floundering, quite pathetically you might add, unable to think when your mind was flurrying so violently. It didn't help that Tim was speaking in such a condescending and strict manner that it intimidated you.

"Here's what I think happened; either you're here to lead the League to Damian, waiting until he's vulnerable and his guard is down to strike." He spat, "Or, you're not running from them at all. You're waiting until they find you."

You hesitantly raised your eyes to meet his, "You can't tell Damian."

"Since you even tried to entertain the fact that I'd hide Damian means that it's the latter. But why?"

"I was hand-chosen by Talia to be Damian's betrothed since birth. They handed me down to one of the main sergeants to be raised as their own. Except, they weren't that happy to have me." You explained, watching as his features smoothened over with realization.

The gears in his head were turning and you could only assume what was going on in his mind. He was a great detective; you could understand why he had Ra's' acknowledgement. But that made you all the more nervous, trembling hands holding onto the material of your shirt tightly.

"I was raised by them to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. As the person who was going to continue the 'Al Ghul' bloodline. However, soon after I was already perceived as a failure." You murmured, keeping your voice low in fear of any other Wayne's poking their head around and over-hearing.

"When Damian left the League to stay with Bruce." Tim realized and you nodded.

"Things just got worse after that. I sustained an injury from a mission and couldn't walk for a few months. My step-family was called on a mission for the last few of my recovery. When they returned, they were unaware of my progress but I decided to keep up the act that I was still unable to take care of myself. It was a few nights after that I heard them plotting to kill me since I became a liability and a shame to the family."

The man in front of you chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his tired face with his palm, "What kind of fucked up Cinderella story is this?"

You shared his sentiment, "Only difference to the original is that my prince never came. So, I had to take matters into my own hand."

Tim's eyes widened, "(Y/N), why is the league after you?"

You released a shuddering breath, "Damian can't find out."

He bristled, "Damian would protect you."

"And that's exactly why he can't find out. Damian would die to protect me, and if he tries to step in that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Then why come here? Why bring it to our home?"

You hid your face in your hands, "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to be selfish one last time. I was completely content with just watching him from a distance, I guess I overestimated my abilities. When we met, I was hoping he'd turn me away. I was hoping he'd tell me that he moved on and never wanted to see me again. I was hoping he'd tell me that he didn't feel anything for me."

Your eyes began watering and you felt the urge to hide and cry. Everything was getting messed up. Guilt took over you when you remembered how bright Damian's face was when he saw you, how right his hand felt in yours. How could you do this to him?

"Damian would want to know." Tim told you softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder but your body stiffened up. He couldn't find out. He just couldn't.

"Are you really willing to put the life of your brother at risk for a girl you just met today?"

"You seem awfully keen to die." He commented, and you felt slight grief at his words. Of course, you didn't want to die. Not now, not when you were finally back in Damian's arms. Not ever.

You sniffled, biting your lip, "Damian shouldn't have to pay for my sins. I do."

His hand tightened on your shoulder and you found comfort in the warmth you could feel through your clothes, "I'll keep your secret."

Sighing in relief, you hugged him tightly, "Thank you."

****

When Damian woke up, his eyes flickered between the lamp beside him on the nightstand and then to the window. It was still dark outside, he assumed that he was woken up because of his usual schedule. It wasn't like him to miss patrol but the others suggested that he take a day off to rest.

He turned his neck to see that you weren't in bed beside him and wondered if last night had been a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time that he dreamt of you being by his side. But he remembered how much his heart pounded, he remembered feeling shocks all over his skin when he touched you.

And then he noticed the way the other side of the bed was mussed up, like someone had been sleeping there and he absently reached for that side, running his fingers up and down the fabric like he would be able to feel some residual warmth from your body.

Instead, the pads of his fingers came into contact with something coarse. His brows furrowed and he grabbed it between his fingers, realizing it was a folded piece of paper. Squinting and sitting up, he got a better look at it, recognizing his name scrawled in your handwriting.

'Damian.

I'm sorry that you'll have to find out this way but the League found my location a little earlier than expected. I'm going into hiding tonight. It's likely we'll never see each other again. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this in person. Even though I know this is a missed opportunity for it and I should have summoned up the courage to say goodbye, I just couldn't stand the thought. And I couldn't watch myself break your heart. Please forgive me for this. I never wanted our lives to turn out this way, but I can't keep running away from reality and towards my desires anymore. You deserve so much more than I could ever even hope to offer you. And I know this is another mistake I'm making, but I left the ring you gave me. Thank you for giving it to me, but I think it belongs to someone else.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

-(Y/N)'

His heart rate picked up, skimming over the words a few more times. This had to be some sort of trick, he tried to decipher your words, tried to see if there were any clues, any codes but his heart clenched in his chest when he realized there was none. He pulled back the covers in a frantic motion and sure enough, the engagement ring you were given on your 18th was glimmering, abandoned by you.

Blood hammered through his ears and he threw off the covers, getting to his feet and sprinting through the doors. His feet pounded against the hardwood floors and then the metal floors of the Batcave.

"Damian? What're you doing up?" Dick asked, raising a brow as Damian marched his way down to the Bat Computer before pushing Tim out of the way and pulling up the Manor security cameras. You had managed to avoid all of them. Of course.

"We have to find (Y/N)." He said, not turning his eyes off the screen.

"(Y/N)? Wasn't she in bed with you?"

"If she was in my bed then I wouldn't be down here trying to find her, now would I?!" He bit back and then held out the note for Dick to read. Once he got through it, Dick squeezed his younger brother's shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Don't worry, Little D, we'll find her."

"Damian, she said she doesn't want to be found. Don't you think you should listen to her and trust that she knows what's best?" Tim asked from behind him, hoping to get his brother to relax but Damian's back tensed up before he turned to his brother.

"You know something."

Tim froze, "What?"

But before he could even think of a cover story, Damian was grasping him by his collar, holding him to eye level to look the devil's grandson in the eye, "What are you not telling me, Drake?"

Realizing he's been caught, Tim pushed his hands off him, turning so that his back was facing him, "Doesn't matter. (Y/N) said she didn't want you to find out and I promised her."

He felt a little helpless watching Tim's back facing him. He didn't feel like himself. Every second that Damian spent away from you, when he knew that you could be in trouble had every part of him, every fibre of his being, every cell in his body ache with a pain he had never felt before.

Never in his life would he have thought that he would be brought to his knees by someone. But you held all the power over him and Damian would gladly kneel before you, his queen. And now he couldn't stand being away from you, he couldn't bear the ache in his nerves when he couldn't feel your skin under his.

"Tim." The silence in the cave was deafening as everyone looked between the two youngest brothers, "Please."

It was then Tim began doubting his choice. He bit his lip uncertainly, avoiding Damian's gaze and he looked to his feet, "She said she didn't want you to find out."

"Tell me."

And he did.

****

Your fingers were curled tightly around the handle of your sword, breaths coming out in sharp labours as you tried to deflect each of their offenses. There were too many of them, too many for you to take and even though you were able to dodge and counter most of their attacks, there could still hit you.

You were bloodied and shaking but you still refused to give up without a fight. They'd regret ever underestimating you, ever thinking that you were nothing more than a way to continue the Al Guhl bloodline. You were much more than that and they'd only see a fraction of it tonight.

Your resolved hardened in your veins as you sliced through another soldier, feeling more determined to get through this fight as the victor. Even though deep down you knew that it wouldn't change the end of your life, they'd never stop trying to hunt you down. But at least this way you'd put up a fight.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up the momentum, your speed and agility was retarding fast and decelerating with each hit you took. The wounds and cuts etched into your skin burned as you moved, blood dripping down your arms and legs.

Your body began going rigid, shocking in its movements momentarily as you kept flipping and manoeuvring yourself to doge the hits. That came to be a fatal mistake when your body locks up when you blocked one of the assassins, swords clashing together in the familiar sound of metal on metal.

Another came at you and your joints were locked in place, unable to move. Your mind blanked out and before you could slide the sword out to counter the other you heard someone scream your name.

You felt arms wrap tightly around your middle.

You saw green eyes.

And then you felt piercing pain in through your chest.

Damian heard you gasp in his ear and his grunt of pain echoed through your head as the katana went through him. Tears immediately clouded your vision when you felt fire burn across your middle, the blade of the sword buried into you as a painful reminder.

"Damian." You sobbed when you felt his knees buckle against yours. His body wanted to collapse, he couldn't stay standing much longer but you knew that if either of you moved, in an unsynced motion from each other, it could cause more pain to the other.

It was getting harder to breathe. You were choking on your own blood as the metallic taste filled your mouth. The sword had gone through Damian's lower abdomen but it had gone straight through your chest.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shirt, crying out into his neck, "Why did you come here?! Why didn't you stay away?"

With trembling fingers, he raised your chin so that your eyes would meet his. He was crying, the scorching pain forcing out more tears. Even then he wrenched a smile on his face.

"There's no one else in the entire universe I'd want by my side more than you. The ring is yours, my love."

Like as if on que, both your bodies crumbled towards the ground. The sword moved painfully through you and a garbled shriek left your mouth, muffled by the blood crawling up your throat.

Your head fell to Damian's chest and you heard the sound of his faint heartbeat, the sound getting farther and farther away as minutes passed. His arms were still wrapped around your waist in a lover's grasp, bodies pinned together until eventually everything went black.

Your prince came back for you this time.

What a shame the story had a sad ending.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[dilfgmancoolatta]

can yuo write angsty freelatta........-benryphobic

@benryphobic

Gordon looks down at the half-eaten pizza, his appetite almost completely gone. He was initially suspicious of it- as much as he trusted Tommy, he had no idea what Mr. Coolatta’s intentions were. But after seeing everyone else dig in (well, everyone who had made it out of the boss battle alive), he let himself give in. It was horrible, but horrible in the way that most Chuck E. Cheese pizza generally is. Mr. Coolatta pulled out all the stops for this one, huh?

He sighs, gently nudging his paper plate away. He’s not really sure what to do. He doubts Mr. Coolatta would react well to being asked when they could leave- he seems really protective of his son.

Gordon decides to get some fresh air. Quietly pushing in his chair, he sneaks away from the group, Mr. Coolatta and Bubby seemingly distracting by a story Dr. Coomer was telling from the Engineering department.

He breathes a sigh of relief once the door closes behind him. He looks up at the sky as he slides down the wall. It’s strikingly beautiful, yet chilling. It’s a sky Gordon’s never seen before, with a large spiral galaxy, that definitely wasn’t the Milky Way, taking up much of it. Planets upon planets and stars upon stars that Gordon couldn’t recognize.

“That’s Andromeda o- up there, by the way.”

Gordon jolts, feeling his heart rate spike, before laughing. “Tommy, don’t scare me like that, man. Kinda still on edge.”

“Oh-” Tommy covers his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman, I thought you knew I was out here.”

Gordon waves him off. “It’s not a big deal. Just- Thought I should let you know.” Tommy nods. “Andromeda’s a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Mmhm! I told my dad once that Andromeda w- is my favorite galaxy. And after that, he always made sure Andromeda was the biggest thing in the night sky in his pocket dimensions.”

“That’s… honestly pretty sweet.”

Tommy nods, sitting down next to Gordon. “My Dad’s a good guy, even if he is pretty weird sometimes. Though I guess I can’t talk.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, Tommy.”

Tommy looks at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Freeman, I wouldn’t be so sure-”

“Listen, we’ve got a lab grown human, a man who’s been cloned, like, 1000 times, and then there’s you. I don’t think the identity of your dad makes you weird.”

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, but seemingly decides against it. Instead, he decides on a simple “Thank you.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments, staring up into the night sky.

“Did something happen at the party?” Tommy asks. “I hope my dad wasn’t being weird about the Chuck E. Cheese debate-thing.”

Gordon shakes his head. “No, I just needed some fresh air. Gordon sensory overload time was coming up, I could feel it. Wasn’t that hungry either.”

Tommy nods. “I understand. That… happens to me too. The only reason I could handle the arcade inside is because my dad makes the machines quieter-” He frowns and scrunches his nose. “But you don’t want to hear about all that.” He waves him off.

And there it is.

It’s a pattern Gordon’s noticed throughout their time in Black Mesa. Every time Tommy seemed like he was about to express any negative emotion, he’d change the subject and say something about Gordon not wanting to hear it.

So he takes a chance.

“But what if I do want to hear it?”

That wasn’t the answer Tommy seemed to be expecting.

“I mean- there’s not much more to it. It’s just me not e- liking loud noises. Nothing all that interesting.”

“It’s not about it being interesting, Tommy. You don’t have to dismiss your own feelings.” Tommy looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an unsure look. “You’ve been, like, my emotional rock throughout Black Mesa. You’ve gotta let me return the favor.”

“I d- really don’t want you to think any less of me.”

“Why would I?”

Tommy looks away from Gordon. “I’ve learned from experience, Mr. Freeman. There isn’t r- any way for someone like me to be upset without being treated like a child throwing a tantrum. And then they talk about you like you’re not even in the room-”

Oh.

Unfortunately, the experience is all-too-familiar to Gordon.

“I’ve gotten the same shit- it’s awful.”

“You... have? I never thought that of you- I mean, anyone in your situation might- would be a little on edge.”

“I mean, even before the Black Mesa incident. People would either use kiddie gloves around me or flat out tell me I was overreacting whenever I was slightly upset. So I do somewhat get it, and you don’t need to expect anything like that from me.”

Tommy nods, a small smile beginning to form. It’s a very nice smile- No, Gordon, now is not the time for gay thoughts.

“And I know I shouldn’t have let them win, and I really did try to not give in, but it just got so ti- exhausting going to work everyday with people who saw you as an overgrown child.” Tommy brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on them.

“I mean, I don’t think you ‘should’ have done anything in that situation.” Gordon shrugs. “I don’t think making a statement is worth more than making things bearable for you. It’s not your job to ‘show them who’s boss’.”

“Mm,” Tommy hums, taking his right arm off of his legs and putting it in between them. “It just doesn’t sit right with me that I ba- essentially taught them that that behavior works.”

Gordon gives his hand a comforting squeeze. “You didn’t teach them anything. They were shitty people to begin with, and even if you refused to ‘give in’, I doubt they would’ve changed their minds. You just would’ve been even more miserable.” He feels Tommy shift his hand so their fingers are intertwined. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush- “If you don’t mind me asking, couldn’t you have told your dad about it? He doesn’t seem like the type to let that slide.”

Tommy shakes his head. “He’s not, but…” he trails off. “Listen, my dads a go- great guy. If I had told him about how I was being treated at work he probably would’ve… either got them fired, at the very least, or have locked them in a void for who knows how long to ‘teach them a lesson’.” Gordon can’t tell if that’s a joke or not- from what little he knows about Mr. Coolatta, it probably isn’t. “But I’m a 37 year old man. My dad wants to protect me from the world, and I don’t really blame him for that, but I need to fight my own battles. I’m not going to be the kind of person that calls their dad at the first sign of danger.”

Gordon nods, brushing his thumb across Tommy’s hand. He understands where Tommy’s coming from. As a father himself, it’s been very hard to ignore his immediate impulse to protect Joshua from anything that could potentially harm him. He can’t imagine what it’ll be like a few years from now when there are dangers Gordon couldn’t protect Josh from even if he did try. “I can’t blame you for that. But I hope that line of logic hasn’t lead to you refusing to ask anyone else for help.”

“Well…”

“Tommy.”

“I’m gonna start trying to change that behavior, I swear!” Tommy laughs, doing an ‘x’ sign over his heart.

“Besides, considering the whole Resonance Cascade thing, I doubt your shitty ex-coworkers will be able to be shitty to anyone else.”

Tommy laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right about that, Mr. Freeman-”

“You can call me Gordon, you know.”

“I- Are you sure?”

“I think, after everything we’ve been through together, we’re well past the awkward coworkers stage of friendship.”

“I mean, if you’re sure about that… Gordon.” Never before had hearing his name filled him with more joy. “But… I don’t know. It’s st- silly, but I still feel bad that they died? Even though they were awful to me.”

Gordon shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, man. Feelings are really fucking complicated- Not to mention you’re probably not mourning them specifically, just the fact that people died. You’ve got a big heart, there’s nothing silly or stupid about it.”

“You do too, M- Gordon. You’re a very kind person.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, both of them red as a beet.

“I think…” Gordon gulps, hoping how flustered he is isn’t that obvious. “I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

Tommy nods, standing up and pulling Gordon up with him. They both turn their heads to look inside the Chuck E. Cheese, seeing Mr. Coolatta somehow playing a perfect game of Skee-ball while Dr. Coomer and Bubby cheer on. Gordon looks at their hands, still intertwined, then back up to Tommy.

“C’mon, before the pizza gets cold.” Gordon opens the door with his shoulder, grinning at Tommy.

Tommy follows him in, and the Birthday Party At The End of the World continues on.

[fictionkinfessions]

replying to this : https://fictionkinfessions.tumblr.com/post/690958885836800000/i-have-a-genuine-question-for-any-fictionkin-that

i actually had a theory that, me and my kins consciousnesses are actually just really, /really/ intertwined, through the vast expanse of the multiverse. not that theyre from a past life, but that im living life right beside them, and that the reason why i get these memories and such, and feel like i am them, is because of how intertwined our conciousnesses are they might as well be one. in theory, this could result in them also experiencing my own memories and wondering, "what the hell? "

i wonder what they would think when they find out, i, someone whose been experiencing their memories right beside them, have taken on their identity. kinda sucks to think about.

but the basic theory is just...

imagine there are two universes next to eachother.

in the first universe, its you. in the second universe, its you but you have wings, or your hair is a different colour. but, its also you.

now imagine theres a string coming from your heart, its not physical and you cant feel it, but you can see it. zoom out to look at the two universes, and that string is intertwined with another string from the second universe. so much so it gets tangled. the you from that universe also has it, being the second string.

this results in memories, and such.

now imagine that the second person looks much different and acts different from you, they're world is seperate from you, and they're strangly like a character youve seen around social media. its still you though. and your string and fheir string are still tangled up, resulting in all those kin experiences, i guess.

ultimately, i don't have a way to know if this is real, if being fictionkin is real. it hasn't been proven not real, but it hasn't been proven real either. but im content with believing its real, until proven right or otherwise.

but really, what confirmed it with me is when i woke up with my ribs hurting and the image of a dream from one of my kins, of being hit by a car. deep down, i knew that wasn't my memory- because ive never gotten hit by a car before, and also it didn't really feel much like a dream - but hers.

tdlr: i have my own theories,, but i can never fully know whether its right or not. but i believe im fictionkin so thats what i am until proven otherwise.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 5

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: A call with one of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,075

Warnings: Reader experiences a panic attack, use of a swear word, angst, reference to most recent Mandalorian episode so I guess it’s kind of spoiler-ish, hurt/comfort and more angst

Author Note: All the love to everyone who follows along with this series! I joined AO3 recently so all these parts will be on there as well at LittleMissPascal. I’m actually really nervous about the response to this particular segment so...be gentle, please ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 4 and Part 6

Photo Inspiration: 

“Cupid 1-1-7, am I hearing you correctly? You said there was an explosion?”

You scrub a hand over your face, biting back a sigh lest the comlink picks it up. “Not a literal one, sir. I’m still not sure what happened, just that when my client touched a potential match’s hand there was this...invisible blast of energy or something.”

The silence on the other end is enough to make you want to slam your head against the wall of the Razor Crest. You’d called headquarters as soon as you and Din had returned to his ship, figuring if anyone had a clue as to what the hell had happened it’d be one of your superiors. 

After twenty minutes of explaining your predicament not once, but three times, you’re beginning to realize you were evidently mistaken.

“Remind me again, Cupid 1-1-7, what name was it you referred to this immortal client of yours as?” Over the comlink, your boss’ voice sounds as if he’s gargling jagged rocks, deep and throaty. You can imagine the narrowed-eyed look he’d be giving you in person and you’re grateful you’re not currently having this conversation over a holoprojector. 

“I didn’t.” 

Your eyes drift to the ladder leading up to the cockpit where Din is located. Something inside of you is insistent you keep Din’s identity hidden from your superiors. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, certainly not with any of your former clients. Part of you thinks of the sensation as possessiveness, but what have you to be possessive of? You have no claim to him, nothing tying you to one another. 

“Interesting,” your boss says, dry as the Dune Sea.

“My client is high-profile, sir. He asked me to remain discreet and I intend to uphold his request.” You clutch the comlink against your chest, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm as you wait to hear if he believed your lie or not.

“This...incident you’ve described, it does bring to mind an event in history with similar details.” There is a shuffling sound that echoes over the device, resembling papers being picked up and flipped through. He hums, a long drawn out note that makes your skin crawl. “Yep, here’s the report right here, referencing an outburst erupting as a result of the physical contact between a potential pair.”

You wait for more information, drumming your fingers against a nearby crate.

“Unfortunately, you are not of rank to hear the specifics.”

“But—”

“I must say though, the Moff will be most interested in this development,” he continues, ignoring your protest as if you hadn’t opened your mouth at all. 

Heart lodging in your throat at the mention of the head seraph, you manage to choke out, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Hess.”

“That’s sir to you, Cupid 1-1-7.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Forgive me, sir.” You’re two seconds from babbling yourself off a cliff and you can’t find the off switch for your mouth. “It’s just. Moff Gideon is so busy, as I’m sure you know, and I would hate to bother him with this case when I have everything under control—”

“Except that you clearly don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made this call.”

His words hit you like a punch, silencing you.

“The Moff will hear about this, as well as your breaking protocol by concealing information from your superior when directly asked. No doubt he will be as displeased about your behavior as I am.” 

Your eyes fall shut as you listen, slumping against the ship’s wall and sliding down onto the cold floor. You feel disconnected from the situation, as if he’s discussing someone else’s fate instead of your own. 

“In the meantime,” his voice drones on, adding more weight to the pressure on your chest. “I will permit you forty-eight hours to complete your assignment before I officially relegate it to another Cupid. You will also be ordered to take a reassessment test of your basic understanding of standard Cupid regulations.”

You squeeze your eyes together tighter, feeling like you’re about to throw up. Each breath you take feels pointless, as if there is no longer any oxygen in the air, but you have enough pride left to keep you from having a breakdown with your boss still on the line. 

“Do you understand the terms in which I’ve stated to you, Cupid 1-1-7?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amor vincit omnia.” The parting mantra sounds almost sinister coming from his mouth.

“Amor vincit omnia,” you echo, forcing your voice to remain steady.

The comlink clicks off. The floodgates open not a second later.

You press your palms against your mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wrack your body so they don’t disrupt the silence of the cargo hold. The tears streaming down your face refuse to be stifled though, burning your eyes as they fall. Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, a frantic drumming counting down the seconds until you either scream or pass out. Or both.

It’s an ugly, hysterical kind of crying that can’t be stopped once started, not even when you hear movement from the ladder right before Din slides down it, boots thudding loudly against the floor. 

And then it seems like Din is right there in front of you without ever having moved, unnaturally fast and stealthy, gloved fingers resting on your shoulders. He’s taken off his helmet, brown eyes full of such concern it only makes you cry harder seeing them, further increasing his worry.

“Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he murmurs, a note of franticness in his voice as he looks you over for injuries, finding none except for the few scratches along your arms you’d received earlier when you landed in the dirt.

You shake your head when he tries to move your hands away from your face, emitting a choked hiccup that threatens to crack your already-bruised rib cage with its intensity. 

“Angel, you’ve got to breathe, okay?” Din says, soft and soothing. You blink through your watery vision, finding his gaze again, and he offers you a small, reassuring smile. “In and out. Just like this.” He inhales a purposefully deep breath, then slowly releases it without once breaking eye contact.

You try to copy him, but your nose is stuffed with snot and your lungs hitch with another round of sobs, ruining your attempt.

“Can I…?” Din again reaches for one of your hands, this time hovering without attempting direct contact, waiting for your consent. 

Trembling, it feels like a monumental task to remove your hand from where it’s glued to the top of your other one still covering your mouth. Din grabs onto your wrist and brings your hand to his chest plate, pressing it against the cool beskar.

“Together, okay? In and out.”

He continues his litany of encouragement, patient and calm, and gradually your heaving sobs begin to lose their power, enabling you to reclaim control of your lungs. Catching your breath, you begin to wipe away the lingering tears with the hand not still held gently in Din’s grip. 

“Sorry,” you sniff, embarrassed. The beginning ache of a migraine starts to form in the back of your head, worsening when you try to move too quickly, and you bite back a wince.

His grip on your wrist tightens in admonishment. “There’s no need to be,” he says, but your ears detect his thinly restrained anger. “Who were you speaking to?”

“He’s one of my superiors. Valin Hess,” you answer, biting your lip.

“I should have him wiped clean from the galaxy for making you cry,” Din hisses, a snarl on his face and eyes darkening with rage.

Face to face with anyone else, you would have felt terrified being so close to such open hostility. But this is how Din expresses his overprotective nature, making himself a more dangerous threat than the enemy, and for that reason, you could never be scared of him. 

“Din, listen to me,” you say, curling your hand in his grasp until he yields to your movements and allows you to intertwine your fingers with his gloved ones. “What happened on Sorgan when you touched Omera’s hand, Hess said it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. He wouldn’t give me the details though because I’m not high enough rank.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Cupids had any kind of ranking system.”

“It’s based on how long you’ve existed. I’ve only been a Cupid for fifty years now, barely made any kind of lasting imprint on the galaxy.”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, shooting you a stern look. “You’ve made a bigger impact than you could ever know.”

Struck momentarily speechless, you can only watch as he moves to sit on the floor beside you, clasped hands settling between his thigh and yours. The pauldron on his shoulder presses against the upper half of your arm and you tilt your head until your temple rests against it.

“That’s not what made you upset,” Din says.

You don’t need to shake your head, confirming the truth he already knows, but you do anyway, comforted by the cold metal rubbing across your forehead.

“What did he tell you, angel?”

You know by how he squeezes your hand that he genuinely wants to hear what happened. You know he must hear it from you because no one else can break the news. And you know you cannot lie to him because Hess’ intervening affects him even more than it does yourself. Still, in spite of knowing all of this, the words don’t come out any easier.

“I have only two days to figure out who your soulmate is before he reassigns you another Cupid.”

Din goes abruptly stiff. “What.”

“Because of the explosion and then also because I broke protocol by refusing to say you were my client, Hess believes I’m not handling things well and should be replaced by someone better.”

If you hadn’t known Din was immortal, you would think he died with how still he remains at your side. Leaning back with increasing worry, you see him staring forward across the cargo hold, granting you only a glimpse of the side of his face.

He...Oh, Maker. 

He looks kriffing pissed.

“Din—”

“How...” he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw. “How could they ever think there is anyone better than you?”

For the job, you tell yourself, not allowing your hopes to rise. He means there isn’t anyone better for the job.

“I’m just a Cupid,” you tell him weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “I—”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” he snaps, the closest he’s ever come to yelling at you, turning to meet your gaze with fire burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, his intensity making you feel like cornered prey. 

When he speaks again, his baritone voice has become a low murmur, each word carefully chosen and bleeding sincerity. “Everything you said about knowing who your soulmate is—I want to experience all of it with you. Only you. You’re it for me, angel.”

You freeze, unable to believe what you’re hearing, train of thought coming to a screeching halt. For the second time during this conversation, you’ve lost your voice, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“You’re it for me,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s pleading for you to believe him. “So tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. You’re the only Cupid I could ever want by my side.”

The reference of your designation is like dumping a bucket of ice water over your head, shocking your entire system. You wrench yourself away from him, stumbling onto your feet.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you say as you start to pace around the room, hearing the hysterical edge in your own voice.

He stands up, expression warring between confusion and irritation. “I know you feel something too. Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because we can’t be together, Din,” you answer, blinking back the unbidden tears starting to form again. “I’m not your soulmate. It isn’t possible!” 

“Angel.” He catches your elbow when you pass by him, forcing you to face him. His voice is brittle when he speaks, already expecting your answer to shatter his wounded heart. “Why can’t you be with me?”

“Because I’ve already met my soulmate. And he wasn’t you.”

Tag List:  @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Match Made in Heaven - Harry Potter

Title: Match Made in Heaven Pairing: Harry Potter x Granger!Reader Summary: Harry spends most of his days living amongst muggles to avoid the fame that follows him in the wizard world. Concealing his identity isn’t a problem until he falls in love with a muggle that seems all too familiar. A/N: For the anon that wanted Harry falling in love with a granger!reader without knowing she’s Hermione’s sister. This is noncanon compliant, as Hermione never obliviates her family. Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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Harry spends far more time in muggle London than he ever imagined he would. He rents a decent sized flat in a muggle apartment building, shops in muggle clothing and food stores, and he even finds himself taking the tube or bus over apperating or the Floo Network. Harry loves magic and he loves being a wizard, but after spending the first 18 years of his life in the wizard world limelight, he craves a sense of normalcy.

In the muggle world he isn’t Harry Potter the boy who lived. He’s Harry Potter, the guy I sat next to on the tube. Or Harry Potter, my quiet neighbor who always says hello. In the muggle world he’s just Harry Potter, and he really likes that. He likes being able to go to a restaurant for a meal without being asked for his autograph, and he can buy his boxer briefs without being stopped for a picture.

Of course, he’s still fully involved in the Wizarding World. He pops into Diagon Alley for all of his magical shopping from time to time, he has a drink at the Leaky Cauldron with the boys from school every Saturday, he has a job at the ministry that he loves and every Sunday he conceals a random field in the country side so he can spend hours chasing around a golden snitch on his firebolt. Harry has even popped into Hogwarts for guest lectures or just to see Hagrid.  And of course, he’s at the Burrow frequently, whether it’s for a major holiday, birthday or just for dinner on a random weekday.

Harry doesn’t hate the wizarding world he just prefers the anonymity living in the muggle world gives him. So, it really only makes sense that he falls in love with a muggle girl too.

“If you ask me there’s far too many options for something as simple as milk. Milk is milk, is it not?”

Harry turns to look at the young woman standing next to him at the grocery store, and his jaw practically drops when she does the same. This woman is by far, the most beautiful woman Harry has ever seen. There’s something familiar about her, and yet he can’t quite figure out what it is. She gives him a warm smile, and Harry does his best to return it.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I sometimes grab a different brand hoping to notice some kind of difference and there never is.”

She laughs, turning to look back at the milk. “Well what’s your go to then? I’ll try yours if you try mine?”

Harry bites his lip. This is by far the strangest interaction he’s ever had with a muggle, but he finds is quite enjoyable. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Harry and the woman both reach into the cooler case, and their hands brush when they reach for the same bottle of milk. Harry pulls his hand away quickly, a slight blush painting his cheeks. The woman turns to look at him, the warm smile still on her face.

“Clearly you have great taste in dairy products,” she says playfully, and Harry can’t believe that a woman this beautiful is flirting with him. She grabs the bottle they both had gone for and hands it to Harry.

“You know what they say, great minds think alike,” he jokes, nodding in appreciation as he grabs the milk. He places it in his hand basket and watches as she grabs her own bottle. “I’m Harry,” he introduces.

The young woman turns to face him as she places the milk in her own basket. “I’m Y/N, it’s wonderful to meet you Harry.”

Y/N stretches her hand out and Harry grabs it, trying to ignore the spark of electricity that runs up his arm at the contact. As their handshake ends the woman gives him a wave, but Harry grabs her arm lightly as she turns to leave. “Wait, Y/N. Would you like to get dinner with me? Tomorrow night.”

Harry is just as surprised by his boldness as Y/N is. He’s usually not one to be so outgoing, but he’s become fascinated with this woman in the few short minutes they’ve known each other, and he has to see her again.

“I would love that,” she responds, the warm smile that Harry is already fond of returning.

“Brilliant,” he says, smiling back at Y/N. “There’s this diner that I love that’s not far from here. It’s called Barney’s, maybe you’ve heard of it?.”

Y/N chuckles. “I know Barney’s. I go there like, once a week.” She pauses. “Same favorite milk brand and same favorite restaurant? I think maybe we’re a match made in Heaven, Harry.”

Harry blushes and scratches at the back of his neck. “Perhaps so. I’ll meet you there tomorrow? Say 7:30?”

“I’ll see you then.”

-

“You’re going on a date?” Ron asks Harry in surprise the next day at work.

Ron and Hermione are always trying to convince Harry to move to Diagon Alley above Flourish and Blotts so they can be neighbors. They’re always telling him how quiet it is, how their owl doesn’t seem out of place to their neighbors and how nice it is to be surrounded by people that are like them. One of their efforts to convince him to move is to invite him over for dinner at least once a week. Ron has just invited Harry over, and he respectfully declined.

Harry rolls his eyes at Ron. “Why is that such a surprise.”

“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly have the best track record with women,” Ron points out with a chuckle.

Harry narrows his eyes at Ron. “Either way,” he says, not wanting to admit Ron is right, “I’ve got a date tonight so I’m going to have to skip out on dinner.”

“Fair enough, mate. So, who’s the lucky lady? A bird we went to school with?” Ron asks, knowing Hermione will want all of the details.

Harry shrugs. “Just a muggle I met last night at the grocery store.”

Ron gives Harry a look of surprise. “Last night? You met a girl and asked her out in the same night? That’s definitely a first for you.”

“Oh, shove it. You act like you’re the king of romance or something. How many years did it take you to grow a pair and ask Hermione out?” Harry teases, dodging the rolled-up ball of parchment Ron tosses at him. “We bonded over the fact that we like the same type of milk.”

“Muggles are weird man,” Ron says with a laugh, turning back to the pile of work on his desk.

-

“So, what do you do for work?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her drink.

Harry takes a sip of his own drink to give himself time to think of an answer. This is the only downside of living amongst muggles: trying to figure out how to explain the magical parts of his life. He somehow managed to stutter through a decent explanation as to why he keeps an owl as a pet, but he always gets nervous when it comes to his career.

“I work in law enforcement,” he responds a moment later. “I’m a detective of sorts.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that’s quite impressive. Being a detective at such a young age. I bet you’re a natural.”

Harry blushes, and takes a bite of his food to hide it. He’s almost glad that Y/N can’t know the truth about the more magical bits of his life. Being an Auror is less impressive when you know that Harry didn’t even graduate from school and was able to walk onto his job because someone decided that Harry would be his downfall when he was only an infant. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

“I’m working part time at the public library while I finish up medical school,” Y/N explains with a smile.

Harry scoffs playfully. “You’re sitting over there knowing you’re in medical school and calling my career impressive? You are far too humble, Y/N.” Harry feels a sense of pride when Y/N blushes and looks away. “So why medical school?”

Y/N shrugs, trying to brush off Harry’s kind words. “Both of my parents are dentists, and I wanted to make them proud. I spent a lot of time with them growing up, hanging out in the office. I watched them help person after person and it was inspiring. Made me realize I want to do the same thing.”

Harry absolutely melts at Y/N’s words. Harry has lived his whole life trying to make his parents proud. They gave their lives to help keep the wizarding world safe and all Harry wants to do is the same.

He clears his throat. “Seems we have that in common as well.”

“Your parents are dentists?” she asks with a laugh.

Harry laughs as well, shaking his head slightly. “My parents worked in a law enforcement type field. They were killed, when I was young because of it. They dedicated their lives to keeping me, and countless others safe. And all I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid was make them proud and do the same.”

Y/N gives Harry a sad smile as she reaches out to touch the hand he has resting on the table. Harry allows her to intertwine their fingers, smiling when she squeezes them lightly. “That’s amazing, Harry,” she says softly. “You seem like an amazing person, and I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

That night when Harry gets home he pens out a quick letter to Ron, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his as they kissed goodnight still fresh in his mind.

I think I’m in love.

-

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Y/N whispers, unable to keep herself from giggling.

It’s been a few days since his date with Y/N and Harry hasn’t been able to get her out of his head. He recounted the date several different times to both Ron and Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had even asked him about it when he went to the Burrow for dinner. Each time he thought back to what happened he found himself getting happier and even though he and Y/N were going to see each other that night, Harry needed to see her again. So, on his lunch break he picked up some coffee and headed to the London Public Library.

Harry holds up the cups of coffee, a smile spreading across his face. “Got time for some coffee?”

Y/N returns his smile and nods. She comes out from behind the desk she had been working at and gestures for Harry to follow her. Y/N leads him out of the library and over to her favorite bench in the courtyard. It’s under a great big willow tree, and Y/N often spends hours out here, just enjoying the warm summer breeze, thinking about nothing.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight,” Y/N says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around them.

Harry shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee to keep from getting flustered. “I wanted to see you again, and I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he admits honestly.

In lieu of responding, Y/N touches Harry’s cheek lightly and leans in to kiss him. Their lips move together softly, and when their kiss breaks both of them are blushing slightly. “I’ve been dying to see you again as well.”

Harry bites his lip before he leans in to kiss Y/N again briefly. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” he murmurs, pressing their lips together again.

There are only a few people in his life that Harry has ever immediately felt comfortable around, and not very many of them are female. Whenever he’s around a woman he has a romantic interest in, Harry tends to get all clammy, and he works himself up so much he doesn’t know what to say. But he’s never felt that same awkwardness with Y/N. Ever since they first locked eyes Harry felt a sense of familiarity with her, and he feels like he can say anything around her.

Y/N smiles against Harry’s lips, her brain fuzzy. She hasn’t stopped thinking about him since that night at the grocery store. She wasn’t one to usually strike up a conversation with a stranger, but when she saw Harry just standing there she felt this need to talk to him.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” she says with a quiet chuckle when their kiss breaks.  “I never thought we’d get this far.”  When Harry knits his eyebrows together in confusion, Y/N brings a hand up to cup his cheek. “When I saw you in the store that night I thought you were cute, and I had to say something to you. And then I just started waffling on about milk. I figured it would freak you out or something.”

Harry laughs, and grabs the hand Y/N had placed on his cheek so he can intertwine their fingers. “I’m not gonna lie, I did find it a bit odd. But in an endearing sort of way,” he adds, not wanting to make Y/N feel insecure. “You are by far the most interesting and beautiful person I’ve ever met before. And I’ve met some weird people, so I’d take that as a compliment.”

“You don’t really mean that,” Y/N responds playfully, lightly shoving Harry’s shoulder. “You’re just trying to get in my head, throw me off my game so you win at minigolf.”

Harry laughs and squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You’re on to me, love. You’re bloody on to me.”

-

“Do you think I should tell her?” Harry muses, looking up at Ron and Hermione. They’re eating lunch together in the cafeteria at the ministry, and Harry’s mind keeps wandering to Y/N.

“Tell who what?” Ron asks, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Hermione hits Ron’s arm, rolling her eyes playfully. “Harry’s obviously talking about Y/N, Ron. Considering she’s all he talks about these days.”

Harry blushes. “Anyway,” he drawls, not wanting to acknowledge that Hermione is right. “I’ve been thinking about telling her about me. Ya know, that I’m a wizard.” Hermione drops her fork and Ron looks at him wide eyed. “What?”

“Harry you know you can’t do that,” Hermione scolds. “It’s against wizard law to reveal yourself to a muggle.”

“Well you can if you marry them,” Ron adds, causing Hermione to pinch his arm. “Ow, what was that for?” he asks, rubbing the spot.

“Harry hasn’t even asked Y/N to be his girlfriend yet, marriage is certainly not an option for him right now and I don’t want you putting ideas into his head, Ronald,” Hermione retorts.

“And who said the idea wasn’t already in his head,” Ron responds, gesturing wildly towards Harry. “He’s been in love with her since their first date.”

Hermione turn to Harry then. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders, a sheepish look on his face. “She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Hermione. How could I not be in love with her?”

“You’ve only been seeing her for a few weeks, Harry,” Hermione says softly. “I just think it’s far too early to say you’re in love with her.”

“I know what I feel,” Harry insists, his tone becoming harsh.

Hermione gives Harry a look. “If you really love her then why not make things official? Then you can revisit the whole wizard thing in a year or so.”

Harry looks down, picking at his napkin. “It’s not that I don’t want to make things official. But the more I let her in the harder it is to explain away the magical parts of my life.” When Hermione places her hand on top of his Harry looks up at her. “I already have to hide so much from her. I’m afraid that if I lie even more she’ll just get tired of it and leave.”

“Harry,” Hermione says sadly, squeezing Harry’s hand. “I know, it’s scary. But I don’t think now is the right time to reveal everything to her. And if she feels as strongly for you as you do her, then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agrees reluctantly, wanting to move on. “So, how are the plans for the engagement party coming along?”

-

“What’s on your mind, love? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Y/N comments, looking up at Harry.

Harry leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. It’s been a few days since his conversation with Ron and Hermione and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. Deep down he knows that Hermione is right, that he should wait to tell her about him. But he also knows how strongly he feels for her already, and that he wants to let her in to every part of his life.

“Just been thinking about you. Us,” he says a moment later, pulling her closer into his chest. They’re cuddled up on Harry’s couch, watching some film he hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to.

Y/N hums and sits up so she can properly look at Harry. “Thinking good things, I hope.” Her tone is light, but Harry can tell there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Harry reaches out and lightly grips Y/N’s chin so he can bring their faces together and press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Always good thoughts when I’m thinking of you,” Harry says softly as he pulls away. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks but,” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. Even if it’s far too early to say that and you don’t feel the same quite yet.”

“Oh Harry,” she whispers, before closing the gap between them. Y/N kisses Harry slowly, trying to reassure him and convey all of her feelings for him at the same time. “I love you too,” Y/N murmurs when they finally break apart. “I knew we were destined to be together the moment we reached for the same milk,” she jokes.

Harry chuckles and kisses her again briefly. “If you’re going to be with someone for the rest of your life it’s imperative you have the same taste in dairy products.”

“Rest of your life?” Y/N asks quietly, a pink blush on her cheeks.

Harry sputters, his face heating up as well. “I. I well. Um. Y-you know. I um.”

Y/N giggles at how flustered Harry is and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, love. While I’m not saying we should run out and get married right now, I’m not opposed to that happening with us someday in the future.”

Harry smiles at Y/N, his heart fluttering in his chest. While it’s not a marriage proposal, it’s the promise of something more and it’s good enough for Harry. “Are you busy Sunday evening? I’ve got this party thing to go to in the afternoon but there’s something I want to show you.”

“I’ve got this family thing for most of the day. I’m not sure when it’ll be over, but I can sneak away, make time for you,” Y/N responds sweetly.

Harry kisses Y/N hard, the movie they had put on long forgotten.

-

“Harry! There you are!” Hermione greets excitedly, coming over to hug Harry. He arrived at The Burrow for Hermione and Ron’s engagement party well over an hour ago, but both of his friends had been busy talking to their other guests. So, he just grabbed a drink and milled about, occasionally stopping to talk to people from school.

“Hermione,” Harry greets, returning her hug. “You look wonderful. You’re glowing.”

Hermione blushes and releases Harry from her hug, choosing to grab his hand instead. “Come with me. I want you to meet some of my family.”

Harry follows behind Hermione dutifully, finishing off the rest of his drink for a bit of liquid courage. He would have been happy sticking to the shadows for the rest of the afternoon so he could slip away to meet up with Y/N, but he’s going to be the best man at the wedding in a few months, so he should probably mingle for just a bit before he heads out early.

“You remember my parents, right?” Hermione asks as they reach a small group of people.

Harry nods and releases Hermione’s hand so he can shake her parent’s hands. “Of course. Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“And this is my sister,” Hermione says, causing Harry to look at the girl who has just arrived.

Harry turns to shake her hand, but all of the air gets sucked out of his lungs and his mouth runs dry. “Y/N?” Harry asks, surprised.

“Harry?” Y/N responds, sounding just as shocked as he does.

“What are you doing here?” They both ask at the same time, causing them to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“I went to school with Hermione and Ron, they’re my best friends in the entire world,” he explains, trying to ignore the fact that everyone around them is starting. “Hermione’s your sister?” When Y/N nods Harry continues. “That’s why you seemed so familiar when I first met you. You guys have the same eyes.”

“Care to let the rest of us in on what’s going on?” Ron asks, looking between Y/N and Harry.

Harry reaches out and grabs Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Y/N is the girl I’ve been seeing the past few weeks.”

After Y/N and Harry explain their whirlwind romance to Ron, Hermione and the small crowd of Weasley’s and Grangers that has gathered around them, they sneak off together to the corner of the large tent, leaving quite a few perplexed people behind them.

“I can’t believe you’re the Harry. The one I’ve heard about practically non-stop since I was 13,” Y/N teases as they take a seat at an abandoned table.

Harry blushes, squeezing Y/N’s fingers. “I can’t believe Hermione never mentioned having an older sister.”

“From what I remember you three were always getting into trouble back at school. She probably just didn’t have the time,” Y/N muses with a laugh. Y/N pauses, reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek. “I can’t believe that out of all the times we could have met, we finally met in the milk section of our local Tesco.”

Harry laughs at that and he turns his head so he can press a kiss to Y/N’s palm. “I’ve been stressing for weeks about whether or not I should tell you the truth about me. About what I am and who I am. And as it turns out that was all for nothing because you already knew all about it, even if you didn’t realize it.”

Y/N leans forward and kisses Harry lightly. “I kind of had a bit of an inkling that you we’re just some normal bloke,” Y/N admits sheepishly.

“What gave it away?” Harry asks in shock. “I thought I was pulling it off quite well,” he huffs.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. “Harry, love you have a pet owl in the middle of London. That’s a bit of an odd pet to keep. Unless you’re a wizard.”

Harry chuckles. “Alright you got me there.” Harry pauses, frowning slightly. “Although this ruins my plan of sneaking off early to see you so I could tell you I’m a wizard. I guess we’ll have to just stick it out until the end of the party.”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at Hermione and Ron. “I dunno, my sister and Ron seem quite busy,” she comments with a grin. “There’s so many other people here, do you think they would notice if we slipped away?”

Harry returns Y/N’s grin before he kisses her briefly. “Even if they do, who cares? I’m sure I’ll get an earful from them tomorrow either way.”

Y/N and Harry sneak out of the tent hand in hand, ready for whatever curveball life throws at them next.

[guiltydumpling]

The Guard: Chapter 5

[KUVIRA X READER ROYAL AU]

Summary: “I called you all here to announce that we have a guest arriving sometime later today. Princess Y/N of the Kingdom of Elysian” The people in the throne room looked at one another confusingly. “Their palace was under sieged and the king had to send the princess away to keep her safe from any assassination attempts. Their kingdom has done a lot for us and has proven to be great allies for generations. She’s come a long way and has been traveling for a week, I expect nothing less than for all of you to treat her as you do a member of the royal family and to attend to everything and anything, she might ask for… This poor child has already been through too much.” There was silence in the throne room for a while, as they let the information sink in. “Dismissed.”

A/N: Hi beautiful beings <3 Holy crap i’m back and I know it took me like a thousand years to update and I really have no excuse for that but I’ve been receiving messages and question about whether or not I will continue this story and guess what... YES I WILL! there’s only about 2 chapters left after this and an epilogue so watch out for that and thank you so much for the support! This is my first ever fic so I never expected to get this much love from the readers! anyway... Enjoy ;)

Word Count: 4.7k

~ ~ ~

He’s dead… your father is dead. They told you he was poisoned by the wine that was served during the peace negotiation meeting, that the poison didn’t take effect until he was brought into his chambers for the night and his mouth started to foam, blood coming out of his nose and ears, before he collapsed on the floor and that his body wasn’t discovered until the next morning when his servants would usually get him ready for the day. You were saddened by your father’s death but mostly angered.

You were sat on the training grounds on the bench where you first opened up to Kuvira about your kingdom’s situation. You felt your eyes burn from all the tears you have shed for not only your father but your home. You stared at the stars that lit up the dark sky and all you could think about in this moment was your sister. How different things would be if she were still here you thought.

A few moments later and you did not move from your position when you hear someone walking towards you. You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was because you already knew who would be stupid enough or brave enough or both, to follow you when you clearly wanted to be alone.

“I’m sorry about your father” Kuvira spoke a few feet from where you were sitting.

“Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one that killed him” you said coldly. All manners and sensitivity abandoned.

She didn’t speak for a while and you turned your head to finally meet her eyes. They were sad and full of worry for you and somehow you felt a pang of guilt, she just wanted to be there for you. “Sit with me?” you ask her in a softer tone, and she does. You grab her hand to intertwine your fingers with her and you place it on your lap turning your attention back to the stars as you both sat there quietly.

Kuvira loved to banter and tease, it was basically her form of endearment not only towards you but to everyone around her that she cared about. Despite that, she knows exactly when you just needed silence and her presence alone. This was one of those times and you were so thankful for that.

“I guess I’m a queen now” you say as a matter of fact and she hums in response.

“I would be lying if I said that I never wanted to be queen. I’ve thought about it once or twice when I was a stupid child, but I would always push the thought back when I would come to the realization of what exactly being queen would cost me.” And you were right. It cost you everything. Your sister, your father, your home, your happiness, your freedom, everything.

“Have I ever told you about my sister?” you asked her, not tearing your eyes away from the sky.

“No. But I know you two were close” She says

“We were.” You gently smiled at the memory of you and your sister running around court, hiding from your guards because all you wanted to do was play in the garden all day. You two were inseparable.

“My father would often joke about how we were practically joint at the hip.” You continue and you see Kuvira smile gently from your peripheral.

“We were both opposites in everything. From our duties, to our skills, even to our aspirations. You see, my sister loved being a firebender. You should have seen her when she first discovered her gift, she nearly burned down the garden.” You say with a slight laugh.

“Our father had her trained by the best masters in our kingdom and she became a master herself. She was stubborn as well, that’s what made her a great fighter. She was outspoken and rowdy and very much like my father when he was in his youth. Or at least that’s what our servants would tell me. I on the other hand took from my mother, I was quiet and timid, I devoured book after book, practiced the discipline of art and music, and I wanted pretty much nothing but to be able to see the world and its beauty and culture. That was my destiny. To share my gift of knowledge to the people around me, and hopefully contribute to it. However, my sister, was destined to stay in Elysian and be responsible for our family’s line and heritage. But she had other plans in mind. She wanted to become a soldier, she wanted to fight, and that meant having to renounce the family name and her title in order to do so, and you can only imagine how furious father was when she told him. They got into a huge fight after that conversation and they barely talked afterwards. That’s when their relationship started to wither. She would often escape at night to go to town and observe civilians living their life according to their will, she told me it was fascinating, and she was jealous of them all, then she met this man. He was just a farmer’s son and he didn’t know the real identity of my sister, so he pursued her, and they fell in love. But one of the roaming soldiers caught them half undressed in one of the stables behind the man’s home and they dragged the man away for violating her highness.” You paused for a while, remember the poor man’s face, he was so terrified and clueless at the time. Dragged in chains, when all he was doing was spending the night with the woman he loved and thought he knew.

“They sentenced him to be exiled and had his family’s land stripped from them as payment for dishonoring royal blood with peasant hands. I heard his father was killed in an alley by angry citizens because of the deeds of his own son, and that his mother died from a disease that could not be treated because they no longer had the means to pay for medication, leaving his little sister to sell herself to desperate low-life men just to be able to fill her stomach. My sister had every right to be furious. She was put under supervision the entire day and had the guards stationed in her chambers doubled at night. Chantou ordered the exile sentence of the man and told my father that he should find my sister a husband soon so that this kind of thing does not happen again. And that’s what my father did. He wrote a proposal to one of our allies and they agreed that marrying their offspring would make a better knot than any treaty would.” You shake your head in disapproval of the memories and let out a sigh of pity for your sister.

“Months passed and her marriage was nearing. She barely left her room so I only saw her once a week at best, and whenever she would have conversations with my father it would end in a screaming match or at least one of them storming out of the room. My father believed that what he was doing was for the best, or at least that’s what he told himself when Chantou was basically gaslighting my father into forcing my sister into submission… The night before her wedding, she didn’t leave her room the entire day. It was late at night when I heard a crash in her room since I was only across the hall from her. When I tried to check on her myself, she was being held down by two of the guards and she was thrashing around, blood on her feet and knuckles while her handmaiden tried to calm her down. She was having a meltdown basically. When she saw me enter the room, she settled down quite bit and just started crying hysterically while her handmaiden looked at me with pleading eyes not knowing what to do anymore. The room was a mess, there were shards of glass on the floor and flipped furniture but all I could think about was how I barely recognized her. She was much thinner, her eyes were circled dark, and her hair was all over her face. I felt so bad for her.” You say feeling your chest tighten.

“I told the guards to let her go and that I would take care of her which immediately got her to finally settle down and I had her handmaiden and guards leave us alone so I could personally attend to her. Which I did. None of us spoke as I cleaned her up and put her in bed before I attempted to clean up the mess, she made in her room. I didn’t want to leave her just in case she woke up and had an episode again, so I decided to sleep on the couch of her room. A few moments later I was woken up by a cold breeze and when I opened my eyes, I saw the balcony window wide open and I immediately searched for my sister on her bed, but she wasn’t there anymore.” You feel the tears start to brim in your eyes, but you held it down not wanting to cry anymore.

“I immediately got up and went straight to the balcony and that was when I saw her… just standing still on the railings, wind blowing her nightgown and unkempt hair. I didn’t know what to do and I… I was frozen in place. But I called her, and she looked back at me with tears in her emotionless eyes as she told me she loved me. I told her I loved her back and that I would always be there for her… I was begging her to come down from the railing, but she just stared at me…then she asked me if I really loved her, which of course I said yes to, and then she smiled, for the first time since the day of her lover’s exile she smiled… the only reply she gave me was “good. Then take care of everything for me okay?” those were her last words and she just… jumped. And I don’t remember much but I think I was screaming? Or maybe I was trying to, but nothing seemed to come out. But I passed out on the balcony and woke up in my room with my father sitting on the foot of my bed only to tell me that my sister committed suicide.” You finish, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you held Kuvira’s hand tighter.

“Is that why your sister’s death took such a big toll on your father? Perhaps he felt like it was his fault?” She asked carefully and you nod your head to confirm.

As much as Kuvira felt bad for your sister she couldn’t help but feel her blood boil. How could your sister do that to you? Leave all the mess she created to you? Even the audacity to take her life in front of you while you were begging her not to. Why did everything have to fall on your shoulders?

And now your father is gone, your home is in a civil war, and you were blaming yourself for everything when none of this was ever in your control. You had such big dreams, and you had such a big heart. Why is that all being wasted on a mistake you didn’t make?

Call Kuvira biased, but you absolutely did not deserve any of this.

After a while you chuckled lightly at the stars before you, causing Kuvira to raise an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?” she asks, and you simply shrug

“When my sister died, I was so angry… I wanted to lash out on everyone and everything but my father… He was silent. I would often catch him sitting on my sister’s balcony at night staring at the sky and when I asked him why, he told me that he used to do that too when my mother passed away. He said that our ancestors used to say that when somebody we love crosses the afterlife, they become our guardians… and the stars we see are actually their eyes looking down on us from the heavens.” You explain

“That’s beautiful” She comments

“It’s bullshit” you state abruptly. “I always thought it was stupid, something old people would say to comfort the young when they would lose someone” you paused, eyes still searching the stars. “But why is it that all I’m trying to do right now is look for their eyes?” you wonder out loud. Desperation perhaps? You wanted a sign, anything, that will indicate what to do next. If the stars were really your loved ones watching over you, then why has nothing in your life worked out for you?

You felt alone. Then you turn to the person beside you. The person who was still holding your trembling hands and sat beside you in your darkest moment and will continue to do so as long you allow her to. You weren’t alone. You had her. She was the only one you had.

You turn to her, taking your free hand, you bring it to her face and slowly caress her cheek. She looks at you with a slight confusion at the sudden affection but places hand above yours anyway.

“Promise me something.” You whisper to her “Promise me that your different. That you’ll stay… Promise me you won’t leave me?” you whisper in a desperate tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes and Kuvir smiles gently at you. “I love you. Spirits know how much I do… I promise I’ll never leave you.” Kuvira whispered back, lump forming in her throat.

She promised you that she will never leave you and she knew in her heart and her soul that she never could even if she tried. But everything’s different now. You had duties; you were queen. No amount of love in this stupid world could ever provide you a legitimate heir with her. It was you who had to leave her.

She pulled you into a hug and you pressed your cheeks against her chest, letting your tears flow freely once more. “I love you so much” you sniffled.

~ ~ ~

You were now seated on the edge of your bed with Kuvira sprawled on the sheets beside you.

“I think the Avatar may be paying us a visit tomorrow” She stated

“Yeah?” You asked unconsciously eyes glued to your lap. You feel Kuvira shift from her initial position to crawl over to your side on the bed before snaking her arms round your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder. “hey…” she whispered gently, and you hummed in response, still not moving a muscle.

“You need to rest” she said her tone laced with concern for you.

You did need rest. Your eyes were sore from crying and you simply don’t have enough energy to even hug Kuvira back. You were so tired.

You nodded you head and turn your face towards her and kissed her cheek as you smile gently at the woman. “Scoot over” you say, and she does exactly that.

You laid under the covers in the dark, your legs tangled with Kuvira’s arms wrapped around you as you rest your head on her chest feeling her calming breath.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

“Honestly? Your guard.” She said with a slight chuckle

“What about him?” you asked in curiosity

“He must be wondering why I still have not left your room” she responded, and you gave a light laugh

“Don’t worry… He’s a great secret keeper” you assured her, and she simply nodded, trusting your judgement.

“Stay with me ‘til I wake up?” you asked her, and she lets out a sigh causing you to look up and meet her emerald eyes. “Please?” you pleaded, and she looks at you sadly, already giving you the answer to your question. “It’s fine.” You simply say turning away from her once more and you feel her hand gently caress you.

“You know I would if I could… please don’t be upset.” She explained and you simply shook your head

“No, I’m not upset… I understand you have your duties, it’s just… sad.” You explain

“Damn… love sucks.” Kuvira mutters and you couldn’t help but give light chuckle nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah… it does.” You responded.

After a few moments you started to feel your eyes go droopy and you felt Kuvira’s breathing slow down as well. “Stay beside me in the meeting tomorrow, okay?” you muttered half asleep earning a hum of acknowledgment from Kuvira as you both gave in to the comfort of sleep.

~ ~ ~

You woke up the next morning from the sunlight peeking through your curtains and you slowly open your eyes. Instinctively, the first thing your body does is stretch your arm across your bed to Kuvira’s side only to feel a pang of disappointment when she was no longer there. You knew she wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t help but hope.

As per usual, Zhu Li helped you get ready for the day, dressing you in all black as a sign of grief and the next thing you know you were seated in the war room across the Avatar. Your guard and Empress Suyin were in the room as well, with Kuvira seated beside you.

“We received a message from Elysian, it’s addressed to you, your majesty.” Your guard starts, retrieving an envelope and handing it over to you.

The room was quiet while they patiently waited for you to finish the letter. It was from Chantou. And he was asking your hand in marriage. Why were you not surprised?

Chantou was not a nice man. He was greedy and always wanted what he could not have, but even though, he was smart about everything. All his moves calculated from the very beginning or you wouldn’t have been in this mess otherwise.

You knew exactly why he was asking your hand in marriage. Your marriage would make him legitimate because as of now, to the eyes of your people, he was a usurper, which was exactly what he was. But with you as rightful heir, Elysians will accept him. Your people loved the royal family and for a traitor like Chantou who did not have any claim to the throne, it was no question if the Elysian people might kill him themselves. He needed you. And as much is made your stomach churn, you needed him too. At least for now, as you try to claim your birth right. You needed the nobles on your side again, and right now, they were loyal to him.

You look up from the letter to meet 4 pair of eyes on you, eagerly waiting for you to tell them what was on it.

“Chantou’s asking my hand in marriage” you finally say, and their reaction were exactly what you expected. Confusion, anger, disgust, and for the woman beside you, fear.

“Like hell you would!” The avatar exclaimed but you simply kept quiet.

“He must be crazier than I thought if he thinks you are ever going to agree to that!” Kuvira commented but still, you remained silent. “Right?” she pressed, her eyes trying to meet yours, but you refuse. Instead, your eyes meet Suyin’s. She knew exactly what you were thinking, and she knew exactly why he was asking your hand in marriage. In her time as an empress, she has probably seen all kinds of tactics people use just to gain the power they didn’t deserve. This was one of them.

“Your majesty.” Kuvira speaks once more, this time in a lower more demanding tone and you finally meet her eyes.

“I’ve decided to accept it.” You finally say and together with the avatar and your guard, Kuvira give you a look of disbelief.

You decided to explain yourself and your decision to them. Talking to them about why he asked your hand in marriage and why you were willing to accept such terms. The Avatar, being her usual brash self, told you to just take Elysian back by force. But you rebutted by arguing that you did not have enough men or resources to do such thing. Meanwhile, Kuvira was kept silent.  Her jaws were clenched and was breathing heavily but you tried your best not pay much attention to it as you stood by your decision.

After a few moments of discussion Suyin finally speaks up. “Maybe we should give this a little more thought and process… Of course, I’m not suggesting that you have not your majesty” She said, careful to not offend you. “But perhaps its best if we let ourselves clear our heads and we can come back maybe later in the day to discuss your final decision. If you still wish to accept his proposal… then I personally will support, you.” She finishes and you give her a gentle smile.

You doubt you were going to change your mind but for everyone’s sake, you agreed and had dispersed.

~ ~ ~

You were near the training grounds shooting arrows to a target with your guard a few feet behind you. Shooting arrows used to be an activity that got your mind off of things, but now it just achingly reminds you of your father. A few shots later you heard steps coming towards you. You didn’t bother looking when you knew exactly who those footsteps belong to.

The footsteps came to a halt and you saw Kuvira’s figure in your peripheral. You already knew her purpose for finding you and you just honestly did not have the energy or the heart right now to tell her that you were going to push through your decision. Choosing to ignore her, you continue shooting arrows.

“Leave us.” Kuvira states, tone filled with authority. No wonder why the other guards around here are terrified of her. You thought.

The look at your guard to give a nod for approval and he distances himself from the two of you, far enough for conversation privacy but close enough that he can still keep his eyes on you.

“What do you want Kuvira?” you ask in the most neutral tone you could muster as you shot another arrow.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here Y/N” she answers, tone still laced with authority.

You took a deep breath before shooting another arrow. Bullseye. You put the bow down and turned to finally look at her. She was fuming. You couldn’t quite put your finger on the exact emotion she was expressing just yet, but you knew it was anything good.

You took a deep breath before answering her, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going through with my decision. If you don’t like that, then leave.” You say, trying your hardest to not show any emotion. You couldn’t.

“How could you say that? To me, of all people! Do you honestly believe that marrying that son of a bitch is the only way out of this?!” She raises her voice taking a few steps towards you and you almost stepped back, but you held your ground.

“No! It’s not the only way! I can just easily declare a civil war right now and hold on to my pride and title as I let nameless soldiers die on the field while I sit in my chambers drinking tea waiting for a victory, I didn’t take part in! Or I can stop it. Right here. Right now. Without anybody else getting hurt!” You challenged her. It was true. You thought about the options you could take and it all just ended up either more people dying or simply losing. This wasn’t the only way to win back your kingdom, but it was the best way to do it.

“Then don’t.” Kuvira states and you raise a brow in confusion. “That’s what I just said… I don’t underst--what? Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying since the meeting?!” you groan in frustration. Kuvira takes a step towards you not turning her eyes away from your evidently confused features.

“Don’t declare a civil war. Let us do it.” She explains and you feel your breath hitch. You shake your head and take a step back trying to process what she’s saying. “This is madness Kuvira… even for you…”

Having Zaofu declare war on behalf of your family was a huge risk to their empire. You can’t say the thought never crossed your mind when you arrived in Zaofu and you saw the thousands upon thousands of elite soldiers, bender and non-benders alike, not to mention the resources they have remaining stagnant. You knew that you had nothing to lose and that’s what makes declaring a war yourself moot, you had nothing to bargain with but your claim to the throne. How selfish do you have to be just to claim back your kingdom? Your home?

“You’ve seen Zaofu yourself your majesty, we have more strength and power than the wealthiest kingdoms combined. Declaring war on your behalf won’t even cost us half of our excess” She explains, basically confirming your theory. “And what of the empress? What will she have to say about this rash decision you are proposing to me?” you ask as a matter of fact. Your heart was racing, and your palms were getting clammy from this conversation. Why? You’ve yet to figure that out yourself.

“Su just lost one of her most loyal and strongest allies and her best friend. She’s not about to let the remaining daughter of the two people she cared about the most, to sell herself to a usurper when she gave her word that she will protect you at any cost.” Kuvira states and she takes your hand into hers eager to see your face to give her a hint of what you’re thinking right now. Your hands were trembling, and you were feeling guilt eat your heart and soul. Is this the cost for salvation? Selfish drive and wishful thinking? What would your father do? What would your mother say? What would your sister tell you?

You lightly shake your head, still not fully accepting this decision “no… I don- ugh! Spirits, I don’t know what to do!” you let out in frustration. And Kuvira put her index below your chin to gently tilt your head up to meet her gaze. “You are the smartest woman I know. You always know what to do…” She whispers and you feel tears forming when you let out a sigh.

You knew what to do. You just didn’t want to admit it. Your first plan had a lot of flaws in it to start with. Chantou could just easily poison you like he did with your father and declare you died of illness to your people after he gains their favor. You would’ve never ceased the throne back, not to mention you had to have eyes at the back of your head 24/7 knowing that nobody was loyal to you in the palace anymore.

Kuvira’s proposal was exactly what you needed. A display of external power and allies. A reminder to Chantou that his claim to Elysia threatened our close powerful allies, and that they would not sit idly by as they watch their sister kingdom perish. It was the right thing to do.

It’s the right thing to do.

Kuvira cups your face into her hands, and you are forced to look at her once more. “Su loves you. Your people love you. I love you. And I know that your father would never want you to go through your original plan because he died to save you and Elysia. Please… Let Zaofu fight for you… Let me fight for you”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes cascade down your face and you give her a gentle smile. The first time you did anything for yourself was when you confessed your love to Kuvira. And now… you’re letting yourself be selfish once more.

“Okay.” You finally answer.

[arigatouiris]

remember... me? // nakahara chuuya x reader

Author’s Note: Being awol for so long could only mean I was drowning in Bungo Stray Dogs and am now a hoe for Chuuya and Dazai. No regrets. I’m on season three rn and I’m only going to go on and read the manga after this, so I’m just THIRSTY. Hope you like this!

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Summary: Ever since laying his eyes on you, Chuuya sensed a familiarity that almost suffocated him. The ever-growing sense of deja vu didn't disappear even as he had you locked in his arms, or even as he stayed away; there was no explanation to it, whatsoever. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love? But then again, what didn't he?

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft chuuya, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of blood, swearing (because Chuuya ofc), slight amnesia? ah, you’ll see, ig that’s it? 

Even before you fell in love, you had always known that it was a bad idea. As unfortunate as you were, every time you felt a close connection with someone, it ended negatively. Whether it was the first boy you had ever kissed, who had broken your heart ruthlessly by kissing another boy a few days later, or the first person you thought you were in love with who had broken your heart by declining your proposal. Love had always left a remnant of displeasure and fear in your heart, and even without these experiences, you were certain that the concept of love was scary as it was. It wasn't as if Nakahara Chuuya was any different. Well, at least, he wouldn't be.

As soon as you opened your eyes, you noticed how the sun blossomed right outside your window. You knew from the telltale signs of dawn that it was your cue to leave; getting dressed would take less than 30 seconds, and heading out the door would take another 30. In less than two minutes, you'd be out of Nakahara Chuuya's hair, and live your life without the worry of any unnecessary attachment sticking to your psyche. However, for a moment, you lay there, admiring the lone tear that leaked out of his left eye, and you mindlessly wiped it away before it reached his cheek. You wanted to smile at his apparent softness, something you knew he'd try to hide with everything he had. You quietly got off the bed, careful not to throw the covers off his naked torso, and just as you were putting on your pants, your eyes darted to a very asleep Chuuya on the bed, obviously naked from the events of last night, before a thought crossed your mind—oh, how you'd kill just to linger around, but duty calls. A person so devastatingly afraid of love had no business to wish for fluff, it was just roll-call. A sigh exited your lips as you traversed on, mindful not to lay any loud step to awaken the sleeping beauty. To Chuuya, you were someone he had met just the night before, you weren't aware of his opinions on one night stands, but you were of the firm belief that they had to remain just one. Goodbye, Chuuya, you thought before sneaking out the door, almost as easily as you came in.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. He felt a long-forgotten feeling at the back of his eyelids as if he had cried—but Chuuya stopped doing that long ago. He never cried again, he had seen and lived through too much even to consider letting his emotions loose. Yet, why had there been that feeling lingering behind that morning? His eyes searched for any sign of you but when he found none, his heart sank; he was familiar with one night stands, but he hadn't imagined that you adhered to such rules so stringently.

Ah, f*ck, he thought, as he sat up on the bed. He let out a shaky breath before feeling his eyes burn once more. His left hand reached forward and wiped off an incoming tear from his right eye before he frowned. What the f*ck? He thought before groaning. Something must've gone into my eye, he thought; desperate not to think of you. You had left behind your smell and as people say, memory and smell are intertwined. However, Chuuya didn't know that.

A short while after his shower that morning, Chuuya's phone rang indicating that he was needed elsewhere. The stupor that he had been transported into was over, and the feeling that he may have forgotten something had to be buried.

    "Yeah?" Chuuya grumbled, ignoring his aching stomach; he knew he was forgetting something, something almost vital to his existence and identity, but his common sense reminded him that post-sex emotions can be overwhelming.

    "Oh, rough morning, Chuuya-kun?" Mori's voice from the other end did little to ease his growing uneasiness.

    "What is it, Mori-san?"

    "I'm starting to worry about you. Chuuya-kun. You disappeared last night and just left. Regardless, your private affairs are your own, after all. I need you to look into something."

Took him long enough to come to the damn point, "What is it?"

    "There's a large collection of ammunition that the mafia's stored by the bay. Rumor has it that someone's discovered that location and is intending on... borrowing our merchandise. I can't have that happen, you see. It's our produce, after all."

    "Ah?! You can send someone else for something so small! Why can't you send the Black Lizards or something—"

    "Oh, Chuuya-kun! I'm asking you because I know I won't have to ask again."

Chuuya hated taking orders from someone else, but he liked to believe he held some amount of agency in these areas. Letting out a long breath, Chuuya ended the call once accepting what needed to be done. It was simple enough, considering he didn't have anyone to kill or torture for information. As long as this meant he could work alone, Chuuya was glad. His life had reached a certain blissful limbo ever since Dazai's disappearance, not that he was complaining. Walking over to his hat, which was gracelessly laying on the floor, he felt the familiar smell reach his nostrils again—your smell, to be precise—and he almost froze as he reached to pick his hat. A sense of deja vu burned through his veins; strangely, these moments were occurring far too many times for him even to count. Some days, Chuuya could sense mornings repeat themselves, and nights disappear. Days would sometimes come to a standstill and sometimes, he'd lose them entirely. Time was breaking itself down rapidly, and sometimes, it grew numb.

Chuuya then did what Chuuya did best and ignored the entirety of it before letting his legs carry him to his next destination; he had always been a journey first, destination later type of guy, but Chuuya had mellowed down through the years. He wasn't the same free-spirited, arrogant 15-year old—he was now a man.

On reaching the bay Mori had mentioned, Chuuya's eyes narrowed when he spotted members of the Port Mafia having already been posted there. If people are here, then why'd Mori-san tell me to come here? Chuuya walked toward them before tapping a seemingly large man on his shoulder and waiting to hear from him.

    "Ah, Chuuya-san! Thank goodness you're here!"

    "What the f*ck's the hold up? If our guns are here, then just relocate—"

    "We'd do that, but... there's a deranged person inside who's locked themselves in there! I think they've got an explosive and that could jeopardize everything! The guns, the dock, uh... Mori-san will—"

    "Shut up, will ya?" If this was already annoying him, Chuuya could only wonder what the rest of the task would do. "Did you take a look at this deranged person?"

The man shook his head, "N-Not really. They've been here all morning, in fact."

    "Oh? No one's seen this person get in?"

    "I don't think so—"

    "Tch, useless." Chuuya turned toward the entrance of the building and noticed how the shutters were closed.

    "Also, one more thing, Chuuya-san," the man admonished, "There was a letter that was slipped out of the shutter. It was addressed to you."

This got his attention. Addressed to me? That's why Mori-san sent me here. Chuuya took the slip of paper before opening it, and on it was written with a neat cursive — 'I'm willing to speak to only Nakahara Chuuya, not anyone else. You do not know my ability, so if anyone approaches the building apart from him, I'll blow this place up.' A smirk landed on his face at the seemingly suicidal note that this person had written, and half of his mind wondered if it was Dazai who had played this ridiculous scheme. Letting out a breath, he waved his hand before walking toward the building and standing right in front of the shutters.

    "Alright," He said loudly, "Open the damn shutters. It's me. Nakahara Chuuya!"

When the shutters did open, Chuuya stepped inside without a second thought; once he took close to six or seven steps inside, the shutters closed right behind him, keeping the light away. His eyes didn't waver, though. He had spotted the person in question's silhouette before the light left the room.

    "This is mighty stupid," Chuuya said, laughing, "Blackmailing the Port Mafia? You're some idiot, aren't ya?"

    "It isn't blackmailing, really," Came a familiar voice, and Chuuya froze. "It was a bad calculation, is all. I got a tip that there were illegal weapons here and I wanted to find out myself if that was true, but little did I know..." You stepped out of the shadow, with a sweet smile plastered over your face, "...that the Port Mafia was involved. By the time I could think of a justification, I trapped myself here and willingly gave myself to you."

It took him a couple of seconds to register what to say. He wasn't always thrown for a toss, Chuuya was sometimes quick-witted, but you seemed to have that annoying wit that reminded him of a certain suicidal moron. Your smile was infectious. But then again, so was the plague.

    "You're not very smart, are you?" Chuuya countered with a straight face.

You only tilted your head in that annoyingly sweet way and said, "It wasn't a problem last night, was it?"

Chuuya's face brightened at the sudden recollection of your interactions from the night before. He turned his face away from you, not before regretting the action since that caused you to laugh at his sudden change in behavior. Chuuya wasn't shy, he didn't have a shy bone in his body—but, Chuuya could be put in awkward situations that made him feel bashful. Once your laughter ceased, he noticed how sullen your expression got suddenly. A dim look of hesitance plastered all over your face and there it was again—the deja vu—he recalled someone having written in a book he had once read that deja vu was simply a remembrance of the future. But then why had your facial expressions struck a chord in him the way that it had? Letting out a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket before dialing the one person who could end this.

    "Mori-san? Yeah, it's me. The issue's solved."

As soon as he placed his phone back inside his pocket, Chuuya chose to accept what he was feeling right then. Yes, it had been a one night stand with you, but something had been altered in the due course of time that he had spent with you. Ever since he laid eyes on you drinking alone in that bar, wine that he knew was cheap and low-class, ever since he had offered to buy you wine that you swore you'd love more than the cheap stuff you were drinking, Chuuya knew that interacting with you was a poison that he willingly swallowed, as if his life was dependent on it. Your quirky smirks, the way your eyes crinkled at the pressure of his gaze, the way you licked your lips after tasting the wine he had recommended, the way your eyes widened at the tenacity of the flavor, and the way your eyes met his, just a moment after, and a smile crawled its way to where a surprised look was—Chuuya was quite aware what this feeling was.

But, you had gotten out of bed hours before he could open his eyes. You had run away from the possibility of Chuuya getting to see those very reactions from you again. If you had denied him those experiences in the future, could Chuuya even ask them from you? It felt deeply insulting that you didn't choose to give them to him yourself, but for some reason, Chuuya didn't mind taking another step forward.

    "What is it? You want me to repay you for saving my life?"

Chuuya scoffed before straightening his posture. "That's right. You owe me."

Your eyes twinkled at the teasing tone of his voice, "Oh? And what is it that I owe you, Nakahara Chuuya-san?"

    "A date," He said, almost too quickly, knocking the air right out of you, "I want a date."

You were staring at Chuuya as if you were a blind person staring at the sun for the very first time. You weren't just surprised at his blatant honesty, but you were surprised that he had outright asked you out as if it were some demand. There was no hint of hesitation lodged in his voice, but that was Chuuya; he never hesitated before doing something he was sure would result in success. You had to give him more credit than that, honestly. You would have honestly laughed if your heart wasn't accelerating like a fawn running for its life, but at the same time, you were glad. More or less.

    "I'm... surprised."

Chuuya scoffed before turning around to leave, "Yeah, I don't like it when I wake up to an empty bed. If we f*cked last night, then I'd like to know it was stellar. Or I'd rather it doesn't happen."

If that's the premise, so be it, you thought, a soft smile etched on your face. A smile Chuuya had seen many times before but simply had forgotten. When you walked out of there, no member of the Port Mafia followed you or even gave you a stink-eye, you were left to wander on your own. However, a hand gripped your wrist just as you were about to leave—your eyes widened to see Chuuya's intense gaze burning yours.

    "Not a word to anyone about this."

It took you a second to realize he was talking about the ammunition and not him asking you out. When you blushed right then, you were glad he didn't spot it; or if he did, he didn't make too much of it. There was no need to say anything more, you knew when to meet him and what time as well. Just as the previous night. Chuuya never had to wait three days to know if someone was interested; Chuuya took what he liked because, for the most part, it definitely liked him back as well.

*

Unlike what most people believed about Nakahara Chuuya, he hated being angry. Even though he sported a constant frown across his face that he seemed to carry with pride, anger was quite rare for him to carry around with it. Anger made him feel vulnerable, dangerous—in a way that he didn't like; it deprived him of control, agency, dominance; it was a paralyzing emotion that rendered him helpless. He didn't need anger to get anything done—in fact, Chuuya was beyond that. However, that night, when he waited two hours for you to show up and you didn't, Chuuya felt a different sort of anger.

An ire born out of devastating humiliation was no ire at all. It was a rage nestled in a dark place, reminding him of the Corruption that he desperately wished to forsake. Chuuya not only felt humiliated for being stood up, he felt a deep, growing sorrow—a sorrow that didn't involve tears or screaming but silence, which was the worst indicator. Quietly, he left the bar where he had first met you and walked out only to notice that it was raining. One of the things he prided about himself was his ability to deduce things quickly—sure, he wasn't as witty as Dazai was, not that he'd ever admit that, but he was smart where he needed to be. Recalling details about you that most people would have forgotten seemed simple not because he was as talented as he thought he was, no, it was because you were impossible to forget. A drug that he just couldn't shake off.

His legs then carried him toward an area that seemed so familiar that he felt a wave of nausea itch at his throat. Chuuya clawed at his collarbones to stop the feeling from spreading but the nausea had reached his head and he felt as uncomfortable as when he had too much wine in a single night, on an empty stomach. Reaching a particular door that screamed at him for some godforsaken reason, Chuuya didn't bother knocking; the confidence bubbled inside his chest alongside the nausea. He spotted you on the couch, a bottle of wine in your hands—the wine he had recommended to you the night before—and your eyes widen at his sudden appearance.

    "Chuuya!?"

    "You f*cking stood me up—"

    "How did you remember where I lived?"

Perhaps it was your choice of words. He was always good at guessing what people meant from the words they use, it had always been a certain gift he carried with himself. However, Chuuya didn't care right then. The ire rendered him blind. He rushed to you and knocked the glass off your hands, having it spill all over the carpeted floor before grabbing your collar and pulling you close. He was seething but for some reason, just the sight of you—surprised and quite possibly drunk from the wine—burned down his ire as if it were embers sparking off a tree trunk on a rainy night. Your silky robe slid off his hands with ease as he let you go, before darting his gaze away from you.

    "Chuu—"

    "I don't f*cking understand it either, alright?" He said, eyes stuck to the spilled wine on the floor. "I don't understand what this is, I don't understand why I can't let it go. I've had sex with women whose names I don't even bother to remember, but I can't forget your stupid f*cking face, or your stupid f*cking smile or the way you annoy the crap out of me. I can't forget how you'd rather drink cheap wine at the store and drink the wine that I f*cking recommended to you in secret, so I know there's something there, alright?!"

    "Chuuya, I'm sorry—"

He looked at you with a deep frown, "What is it, then? Was the sex bad? Was it me—"

Your hands sprung to his face and it hit him again—the wave of deja vu—the feeling of your skin against his; it was intoxicating. He breathed in deeply, trying to recollect where he had smelt you before for it to have become so deeply rooted in his mind.

    "How is it..." You began to mutter something under your breath but Chuuya's hand lifted your chin and forced you to meet his gaze, "Chuuya, I... I'm sorry. It's not that. It's not any of that. You're amazing. You're... I love you."

His eyes widened. Words that he normally would have run away from suddenly felt like home—he swore he had heard them before. He had heard them, from you, a long time ago and the smell of it resonated with the way you carried yourself. Apricots and honey, a smell so utterly natural yet devastatingly intoxicating, Chuuya was certain that whatever it was had to be love; because if it wasn't, then he didn't know what love was. Moving in, Chuuya's lips captured your own, and your hands quickly reached his hair before pulling him closer as if your life depended on it. A lovely trick designed by nature, Chuuya used it to silence you from uttering words right then. There was no need for words when action spoke so loudly. It didn't take long for his hands to reach your neck, pasting your body to his; and for this to lead further to a place of no return. Not that you minded, of course.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. There was no long-forgotten feeling, there was no remnant that he desperately needed to remember—there was just you. You were breathing beside him, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, looking as peaceful as he had ever seen you; a sight he believed he had seen many times before. The intensity of which made him wonder if this was what people meant when they said soulmates existed; perhaps, he knew you in a past life, and had reunited with you in this one. Whatever it was, he felt content. His hand reached to brush a strand of stray hair off your cheek before noticing you inch closer toward him, blinding him with your scent again.

As established before, Chuuya was good at guessing what people meant by the choice of their words. He instantly remembered something odd that you had let loose the night before, something that made him wonder if there was a reason why he felt so intensely for you. Reaching forward and placing his hand at the back of your head, he pulled you to his neck, feeling your arms wrap around his naked chest. Chuuya's gaze fixed at the wall behind you before trying to decipher just what you had meant by 'How did you remember where I lived?'

A second later, you stirred before looking up at him and he cocked an eyebrow at your emotionless stare.

    "God help me..." You said, "You're so pretty."

    "Don't call me pretty." He argued, and you swore he could kill you with his morning voice and you'd be glad.

    "Hey," He began, clearing his throat, "What did you mean by... what you said yesterday?"

    "That I love you? Aw, Chuuya... Don't you know what that means?"

   "No, you idiot. You asked me how I remembered where you lived. Why would you ask me that unless I..." His eyes widened. "Unless I somehow forgot..."

    "Wrong choice of words, I guess. Forgive me, I was down three glasses of wine before you got here."

Chuuya laughed at your words right then before pulling you closer, feeling more content with your explanation than the gnawing suspicion that raged inside his brain. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love?

But then again, what didn't he?

*

Blissful days were cursed, or so he believed; Chuuya noticed how quickly they passed. He could, on some occasions, watch the days as they passed, exiting his body and seeing himself interact with the everydayness of things. The only thing that brought him life was to return home to you. Even with the ever-growing blissfulness, Chuuya didn't malinger. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that every word that exited your mouth was a red herring—something that you were deviating from a fact that he had missed. He hated feeling like he was missing an important detail, but each time you smiled at him or stole a kiss, Chuuya was taken back to the very moment he fell for you.

Suddenly, as if his mind was taking him somewhere else, he recalled something. He didn't know if it was entirely a made-up scenario or something that happened in a past life because if it happened in this one, he'd have remembered. He spotted you, stumbling in front of a broken wine bottle, the owner of the store screaming in your ear—and you were trying to sound convincing. Chuuya watched himself walk over to you, and turn to the owner of the store before quickly understanding what had happened. You had dropped an expensive bottle of wine, and you had no means to pay for it; it caused him to chuckle a tad bit before throwing some money (or more) at the owner, causing you to turn to him with wide eyes. "It's alright," he had said to you, "I've got money."

Chuuya watched as he walked away from you, but missed how you had removed one of your shoes and thrown it at the back of his head. He froze before turning to you with a deadly expression, but instantly blinked when he noticed how heavily you were blushing before thinking, 'Holy shit, she's cute,' before having you walk over to him and scream—

"What do you think you're doing, pretty face?"

Chuuya stared at you as you chopped onions without shedding a single tear; he had no clue how you had learned to art to do so, but boy, was he glad you knew how to cook. You reached forward before using your wrist to wipe off a tear from his eye, scrunching a bit before realizing the onions must have done it. You giggled before turning back to them, chopping them quietly. That wasn't it, Chuuya thought, narrowing his eyes. That wasn't how he met you. He met you at the bar, where he spotted you drinking cheap wine and he walked over to you and recommended something else. He didn't meet you in a wine store—he didn't have a shoe thrown at the back of his head. Yet... His hand reached the back of his head and his fingers grazed the area where the shoe supposedly landed, It feels like it actually happened.

He shook his head before entwining his hands around your waist, before kissing the back of your neck. He wasn't usually so affectionate, but you didn't mind. Every time Chuuya touched you, it left scorch marks that were welcome; it was passion breathing fire, reflecting the color of his hair, the aura of his heart.

    "What're you thinking?" You hummed, unaware of how intensely Chuuya was watching you.

    "Nothin'."

Blissful days were cursed, Chuuya knew this for a fact. He could watch happy days pass by with him barely breathing, existing, feeling; but the bad ones lasted ages. He remembered walking into his own home one day, drenched in blood, covered with soot and mud, the urge to feel human contact was strong just then. He knew he could call you, he knew that he could rely on you especially since you had said the words 'I love you' to him over and over again, despite him having not said it in return. He wondered if that bothered you, he wondered if that made you want to leave him but you made no sign so far that you were displeased. He watched you like a hawk, after all, with that growing suspicion that drowned him on nights like these. He rang you in a moment, before feeling the phone vibrate next to his ear, his eyes ghosting on a dark patch in front of him. He needed your hands, your body, the smell of your hair; he needed the familiar apricot and honey to cover his nostrils whole. He needed you, just before asking you why you lied.

    "Chuuya? It's 4 a.m., what's—"

    "I need to see you."

You were quiet on the other end, wondering if he had figured it out. He must've, you thought, a bitter smile formed on your lips.

    "I'll be there in—"

    "No," He wasn't going to risk it, "I'm coming to you."

*

Your eyes glanced all over Chuuya's bloodied appearance before hearing the sound of your heart break—it was a soft sound, like a twig snapping under the weight of a stone. Your heart fell as he gave you his hat and removed his coat before you threw it into the wash. You led him to the bathroom, having him strip, and let him sit aside while you filled the tub. You knew he was watching you, you knew he was going to tell you the very same thing he had always told you.

    "We need to stop this."

You didn't know why, but you laughed. Every single time that it had happened before, you had cried and asked him for an explanation, or even threw things at him—but this time, you laughed. This time, you desperately tried being away from him until he magically appeared at your home, shocking you to your very core at how your powers were slowly slipping off of him. You turned to spot Chuuya's eyes fixed at your form before a nasty frown formed on his face. You touched his cheek before whispering, "The bath's ready."

He sat in the water before letting out a groan, indicating that this was what he needed before he could reprimand you and leave you once again. However, just as you were about to leave, his hand gripped your wrist, another action that shocked you, and he stared at you.

    "Wash my hair."

You nodded wordlessly before following through with it, wondering where this was going. All the other times, Chuuya would leave instantly after saying those words. All the other times, he'd ensure that he wouldn't see you for another month or so—before realizing that he had never met you. You weren't a cruel person, you were just desperately in love, having uncovered an ability that you thought could save you from torment. Yet, it presented more than it took away. One of the things you admired most about Chuuya was his hair, of how soft and luscious it was despite it being coated with blood on many days. You admired how well he took care of himself on the days that he could, and how he'd managed to put on that responsibility to you as well. You only began taking care of yourself because of him; and in a way, he had saved you.

    "I..." Here it comes. "I didn't meet you for the first time at the bar, did I?"

You were quiet. But, silence at an occasion such as this was admittance.

    "I've met you for the first time an exact three times. When you broke the wine bottle, and when you were scrambling around during a case, that's when I learned you were a journalist. And then... And then the bar,"

You didn't answer.

    "I was chasing this guy, this..." He leaned his head over and sighed, "...this guy who ran off from the Port Mafia with some documents or some shit. He... He found you, and I... I thought I lost you," You couldn't tell if he was angry or just overwhelmed, "That's when I left you for the first time."

    "Chuuya..."

    "I left you one more time after. I can't remember everything..." His eyes met yours, steady and intense, "...and that's thanks to you, isn't it?"

    "Chuuya, I—"

    "You have an ability," He said, finally, "An ability to make people forget you."

You sat there, behind him, with your hands sunken in his locks. Your heart was rummaging against your chest and you bit your lip enough to draw blood; if he asked you why what could you say? Was there even a reason why you did what you did? Despite having him forget you for a total of three times, he had somehow magically returned, somehow asking for more and staying longer than he did before. It was almost a curse than anything else. The more you used your ability on someone, the less of an effect it would have each time. It was only a matter of time Chuuya figured things out. And now he had.

After the bath, he silently wore a change of clothes that you surprisingly had. He wanted to ask if this was from the first or second time he had met you, but he didn't. He turned to spot you standing a few feet away, before meeting his gaze.

    "You did that for me, didn't you?" He was expressionless. To see Chuuya this way broke your heart. "So that it doesn't bother me."

    "Also because I genuinely wanted you to stay away from me." You let out a laugh.

    "I didn't f*cking stay away, did I?" He demanded, taking a step toward you, "No matter what stupid trick you used, I kept coming back!"

    "You were the one who left first." You snapped, gritting your teeth.

Chuuya bit back his words for a moment before turning away. This action always melted your heart, when Chuuya turned away from you because you had stolen his words away.

    "Things are different now, aren't they?"

    "Yeah," They were different. He didn't leave. "Yeah, they are."

Silence followed a deep revelation such as this. His eyes didn't leave yours and you stared right back—it almost reminded him of the shoe-throwing incident. He chuckled before earning a frown from you.

    "For being played around like that, I should be the one glaring at you." He scoffed.

    "Chuuya, I love you."

It was at that second he remembered something. He believed you'd leave him because he hadn't told you he loves you or even bothered to say it back even when you had said it multiple times before already. However, at that second, he remembered that the first person to say those words between the two of you was Chuuya himself. I'm not going to leave, he thought before letting out a breath. He kissed the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist.

    "Don't f*cking do that again." He scolded you.

    "I could have stayed away from you each time, but you're like... a disease." You laugh.

He rolled his eyes before raising his voice, "Who're you callin' a disease?! If anything, you're a goddamn manipulator. F*cking stupid."

He rested his head on your shoulder before smelling the apricot and honey attached to your skin. It was just as intoxicating as the first time.

    "I ain't leaving so..." His voice was muffled with how his mouth was pressed to your shoulder, "...I love you too."

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 878 (teaser); 9.4k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: august 6th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: writing a spideykook fic is a right of passage for every jk fanfic writer

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

...

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[sloppy-butcher]

Please can you do P, R, L, B, D with Caleb? Forgive that there's so many. Thank you!

thank you for the request bby and so sorry it took so long to get out <3 yeehaw cowboy man :)

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :) 

Fluffy Alphabet for The Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn)

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your hands. The ultimate identification markers of what makes a man, a man. Or well, human. The tools with which greatness can be created and love can be expressed. Caleb absolutely loves your hands and often asks to see them. He likes to have your hands in his in which he can appreciate the size difference between you two (his hands are long and gangly and are littered with a multitude of scars and blemishes). You watch as a smile dusts the corners of his mouth, his eyes downcast and solemn. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and he kisses you gently, the grey hairs of his mustache tickling your skin.

 Hands are what defines a person. It is what made him smart and respected, he used his hands to create his redeemer and brought about justice to the less fortunate. His hands are rough and leathery, the products of suffering and hardship, but yours - oh, how sweet they were. He loves to hold them, loves to look at them, loves to have them slowly caress his body with passion and generosity. 

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He imagines a small, lonely cabin lost high in the mountains of some faraway country place. The mountains on the horizon stand blue against an endless sky, horses and cows roam the grassy fields around and for miles, the land stretches into the untouched vastness. There is no one near, not a neighbor in sight - just you and him in this sort of ethereal, western dream. 

Winter mornings are spent cuddled by a fire, drinking warm coffee with blankets wrapped around your intertwining bodies. And summers see the two of you riding to the local creek where you swim and frolic like love-sick yearlings. All Caleb has ever wanted was to be alone, to be content in his own identity, and to be free to live life as he wants to. Now with you by his side at this lonesome cabin on the doorstep of the great unknown, he feels that content and is comfortable to simply live and let wilderness flow through him and over his land.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Caleb is a great nihilist; stubborn and bitter to the point of being completely dis-likable. He knows he’s old, he knows he is trapped in a repeating loop where nothing will die and he will never be free and he knows that truly, nothing means anything in this world. He sits alone and drinks, trying to drown the part of him that yearns for meaning, for purpose, for justification of existence. 

What Caleb also knows is that he has a liking for you. He knows that your presence doesn't drive him up the wall and that your soft conversations are the highlights of his day. he knows what he wants and he knows there's no point to pussy-foot around the subject. Caleb asks you straight out if you would be interested in becoming closer to him. He explains that he enjoys your private time together and that he would greatly appreciate it if you reciprocated his feelings. Of course, he doesn’t say it in so many words but you get the picture.

You’re surprised by his forward bluntness and Caleb realizes how sharp he sounds. He softens and moves closer to you, taking off his hat and setting it aside on a table nearby. He lowers his face and kisses the top of your head then he pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your shoulders trying to drag you deeper into his embrace. It was selfish to hold you before you had even given him your answer but he could not help himself. You could feel the tall man shake slightly as he hugs you, the act being such a spontaneous event that it takes you a few seconds to realize its entirety. Eventually, you manage to slip into his arms and give over to his need for affection. ‘Of course’, you say without words, ‘I love you too.’

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He would be very upfront about everything. He talks to any and everyone about you, endlessly bragging about what a lucky man he is to have roped such a pretty little thing such as you for himself. Often this gets him in the bad books of the other killers who couldn’t care less about whatever the crazy old cowboy was doing in his free time, but did their threats or disgruntled glares stop him? God no.

He is also very hands-on, slapping your ass at every chance he got and scolding anyone who dared so much as look at you. Someone walks past and offers you a kind wave, you hear Caleb tense his gun and growl. You elbow him in the ribs but he does not falter in his misdirected aggressive protectiveness, blazing daggers after the person then spitting hatefully onto the ground. Only he was allowed to give you goo-goo eyes and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone else so much as try.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s incredibly, unironically, and insufferably cheesy. Caleb was a hopeless romantic before the term was even created - if you looked it up on the dictionary you would find his name in the description. There was just something so wonderful to him about being in love and in being loved, whenever you would stand closer to him or when you would look at him with those mild, affectionate eyes that never dulled or aged, that made him soft and malleable on the inside. It was easy to give in to your fluff and forget, if only for a moment, that he was scarred by life and made to be a monster. 

Caleb likes to get you gifts (preferably something he had handmade) and he loves to give you compliments especially when they borderline being suggestive. 

[robotslenderman]

Sascha! :3

:DDD

SPECIAL INTEREST TIME, BITCHES

How I feel about this character

I used to not give a shit but then you sucked me into them how dare you

They are baby

Mass murdering horrible torturer baby

They've... been through a hell of a lot of trauma and have to process it. They were stuck in that trauma for centuries. Now Ilias is apparently back but he died in their arms, they saw him turn to ash and they have to be dealing with the trauma of that, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Ilias cel Frumos, Beckett (but like in a snarky enemies to lovers kind of way), and ofc my own OCs Rose and Nastasya. Wasn't sure about Nastasya/Sascha for a while but suddenly something seemed to click the other night and I think they'd actually work very well together -- their personalities complement each other, I think. Ilias is warm to Sascha's cold, extroverted to Sascha's introvert, but Nastasya is playful to Sascha's seriousness, joyful to their solemnity, vibrant to their reserved nature.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Even before Rose became a romantic partner I shipped the two of them nonromantically too.

Also I like the idea of Sascha being a tsundere Vitriolic Best Buds with Beckett.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that they would have responded far, far worse to the appearance of Elias Athanasios than I see fandom talk about (sorry, Ry XD). Like, not even as bad as I've mentioned before -- way worse.

(SORRY RY I'M HAVING A SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT)

To start: there is no way in hell they're not dealing with hella trauma after the Dracon. That everyone agrees on, but lemme go into detail:

Like imagine not just seeing your lover die in your arms but being unable to really process it because your consciousness just got smooshed with someone else's, with someone who's mourning his own lovers and didn't really care about yours. Oh, and that person's a suicidal but also sadistic psychopath.

So you spend a few centuries torturing people, shit you wouldn't have done before except in extreme circumstances (if at all) and quite enjoying it, and then --

And then you get separated from the part of you that was okay with it because oh, it was actually the other guy who was cool with that stuff, and you were trapped with the brain of the guy who enjoyed everything you did and you felt everything he did as you did it and thought you wanted it, thought you enjoyed it, thought it was you who decided it, but because you were so enmeshed you don't know that you DIDN'T, maybe it WAS you, can you really blame the Dracon?

And maybe it was really you who made those decisions, because after that long fused together... sure, you're separated physically.

But are you really?

You've been together for centuries. After that long you can't have known where one of you began and the other ended, and it must have influenced your true personality. I mean, stick people in a room of people different to them and they adapt their personality and beliefs pretty quickly, like weeks to months, without outside influence.

Like, how much fucking worse would that be if you were actually stuck inside their head, for CENTURIES???

You're apart now, but in a sense you'll always be together.

Stick the both of you in a room and you'd probably talk like a pair of Creepy Twins. You'll finish each other's sentences because you'll both be on the same wavelength, you'll have the same idiosyncratic habits -- scratching your nose with the same finger of the same hand, tilting your head the same way when you think somebody's being annoyingly obtuse, tapping your fingers the same way on the desk when you're thinking.

You've been intertwined for so long that you probably have the same impulses now, the same thoughts, with only the most foundational aspects to the both of you separating you -- the Dracon's still got his sadism, and Sascha is still introverted, so that'll influence subtle differences.

But it'll be buried under seven hundred years of habits you developed together, opinions and thoughts and aversions and passions you developed together, working in sync for every second of existence, dreaming the same dreams, moving the same hands and fingers, doing the same deeds.

You were a gestalt. Are you no longer one just because you're apart? Are you really separated when you were one for so long? Are you even two people any more, or are you just one person with two bodies, now?

It's going to take decades to bring yourself back to a functional level after the identity crisis that causes, and that's not even counting the trauma of the Eldest, or the Dracon's trauma that you remember just as vividly as if it were your own, or the trauma of what Symeon did to you.

You will probably never, ever recover.

There's traumatic events people went through that follow them for decades that only happened over a few hours at most.

How can you come back from seven hundred years?

In a way, it would have been emotionally better for them to have stayed fused to the Dracon forever. At least they would have thought they were themself, then. At least they were used to it. At least they didn't have a conscience. At least they didn't feel as used because half of them was doing the using, if initially unwillingly. They were one; there was no conflict, just two people so in sync they may as well have been one.

Then to add insult to injury, right after the Dracon's pulled from you, a guy identical to the lover you witnessed die in your arms shows up trying to get your attention. That timing is suspicious AF, and any hope Sascha might have had of coming to terms with Ilias's death on their own time comes crashing down as this redhead just casually waltzes on in and just mashes Sascha's trauma buttons by existing, by looking just like him and acting like him and sounding like him and having the same interests as him and and and --

And now half of them is gone. But also -- not gone, never going, never leaving, who are they now? They're missing half of themself but also probably feeling like they'll never be their real self again. Were they ever really Sascha, when that was a name they took on side by side with the Dracon? But how can they be Myca when Myca is seven hundred years away, when he died the moment Ilias did?

Maybe it was Myca who died in his lover's arms, not the other way around.

I think on the outside Sascha would pretend to be furious at Elias Athanasios for posing as their lover, for having the gall to pose as someone they saw turn to ash, but deep down?

I think they're fucking terrified of him.

Because of the traumatic memories he brings back. Because he knows so much about Ilias and Sascha can't figure out who he "really" is and what his true motivations are.

Because after everything Symeon did, after everything the Dracon and the Eldest did, after the evidence in front of Sascha's eyes that Ilias was dead, dead, dead, how can they not be terrified that this isn't another attempt to manipulate them and put them at the complete and utter mercy of another Methuselah or Elder or worse for another few centuries, when they were only JUST set free?

Their nights as the Angel of Caine are done. They've been manipulated so long and now there's someone else using the person that they loved the most as bait to draw them out. Someone they know for certain did not survive. For their own survival, they can't do anything but disappear because given the forces that has had power over them before, they can't take any risks with this one. Sascha keeps trying to find out who he really is and if he's working for someone, what his angle is, but this time their brilliance is getting them nowhere and they cannot find a single scrap of a clue who Elias Athanasios really is, because all evidence points to him being the real thing but he can't be because THEY SAW HIM DIE.

And here Athanasios is, continuing to try to lure them out.

He's convinced Beckett, one of the smartest people Sascha knows, that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Rose that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Sascha's dumbass Vykosovich descendants that he's the real deal -- particularly the descendant that's their biographer, the descendant whose made it her life's work to know everything there is to know about Sascha Vykos. And Athanasios has direct access to her.

He's getting closer and closer to Sascha.

The walls are closing in again.

So, my unpopular opinion?

Sascha Vykos is the most terrified they've ever been in their existence.

(Second opinion, which I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but -- since they used their deadname for centuries before changing it I reckon they'd actually be pretty fine with Ilias still calling them Myca. But, you know, only Ilias, and anyone else gets turned inside out. Not even Rose would get that privilege.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Not exactly answering the question but I am dreading the release of the V5 Sabbat book because I'm so scared they're going to completely ignore what BJD did with Sascha and go back to making them a villain.

Also worried that Sascha's canonically followed the Beckoning. I reckon they'd nope the fuck out of it after what happened in BJD. Something strange trying to manipulate them again? Fuck no.

[galaxyedging]

Reflection

Casskane on AO3

Summary:

More Mando fluff. Spoilers for season 2 'The Believer'. Din tells you about something that happened on the mission, fluffy times happen.

Work Text:

You stood watching the reflection of the flames as they danced across the Mandalorian's helmet. His stillness would be off putting to most but to you it was telling. It's not as if Din didn't often sit so still that he resembled a powered down droid, you just knew him better. You'd travel with him on and off since he rescued the kid. You yourself had broken into the Imp's base after hearing the little green guy calling for help. You had escaped with Mando just to get off the planet. It was only during a quiet moment on Sorgan that you told Mando about exactly how you had hear the kid and realised you were better off sticking together.

You had been laying low in a cheap motel on Navarro. One night you awoke, laid there in the relative silence listening out for the sound that had woken you. You were shivering despite the heat. The hairs on your neck stood on end then you heard it. You'd had months to think about that night by the time you explained it to Mando, even after going over and over it in your mind, you still couldn't quite describe it. It was akin to listening to the melody of a long forgotten song and having some of the lyrics come back to you. You couldn't make out exactly what words were spoken or the language that was being used but the message was clear to you, "Help me".

After 'acquiring' a Trooper uniform you'd infiltrated the base, only to come face to face, figuratively at least, with Mando. He drew his blaster on you but hesitated for a moment. In that couple of seconds you heard a door open behind you. You instinctively dropped to the floor and drew your own blaster. Between the two of you you took out the four Troopers that piled though the door. After a quick silent exchange you both lowered your blasters and you lead Mando to the child. You'd later asked Mando why he hesitated. He'd shrugged and said he thought you were a little short for a Stormtrooper. It was the first hint of humour you'd heard from him. Rising up to your full height, from were you had sat in the cargo hold, you quipped that you were tall enough to be a Mandalorian, pointing out that you were only a couple of inches shorter than him. He'd let out a breathy chuckle and you'd blushed slightly when you realized how close you had been standing to him and the way it has made you feel.

You made a firm decision to lock any thoughts about Mando stemming from that moment away in your mind and never open them. Starting something more that the necessary partnership you two had had bad idea written all over it.

You suddenly realized that Mando had turned his attention from the fire to you standing in the doorway of your accommodation for the night. You had all decided to get some rest before going after Moff Gideon. Boba Fett brought you to a tiny abandoned outpost on a backwater planet. Each hut was only big enough for one person, all they contained was a bed, small cupboard with a lantern on top and a chair. Seven huts in total with a fire pit in the middle. It's position on top of a hill made it defensible. You looked at each other for a long while. It was just getting to the point of being uncomfortable when Din stood and made his way to you. "Can we talk?" His voice was raspier than usual and his tone told you that what ever he had to say was important. "Of course." You moved back into your hut, you gestured to the chair intending to sit next to him on the bed.

After you closed the door you realized he hadn't taken a seat rather he stood facing it. You took a moment to study his body language. Even though he was weary and sore was the mission on Morak his posture was still stiff and tense. It wasn't that surprising considering the situation but Din usually had a way of coping with stress and taken his downtime when he could.

"Mando?" you asked lowering the hand you had unconsciously reached out to him with "Are you ok?".

He slowly turned to you, a bitter huff of laughter escaping him. You realized how stupid your question was given the circumstances. You opened your mouth to clarify when he spoke again "I removed my helmet. In front of others." The weight of what he had just said hit you in the gut. You had begged him to let you remove his helmet on Navarro to save his life. It was the moment you had realised how much he meant to you. He had refused and in turn begged you to get yourself and the kid to safety.

When you met up again after him meeting some other Mandalorians, that removed their helmets freely, he told you all about it and his resolve to his creed seemed as strong as ever.

You stayed silent, you had no idea what to say to him. After a moment he continued "Mayfield saw an officer he served under. He didn't want to take the risk of being recognized so I tried to access the terminal." his voice sounded distant as if he was telling a story that happened to someone else "It scanned my helmet and started a countdown..I...I didn't have a choice. It was the only way. If I lose the kid..." he trailed off.

You moved closer to him, anyone else you'd reach out to them, offer a comforting touch but laying your hand on Mando's basker didn't seem to offer the same meaning to you. "You did the right thing." you smiled brightly at him. "We're going to get him back."

His shoulders dropped like a tension wire between them had been snipped. "I know and until I seek guidance from the Amourer I will continue to honour my creed."

You gave another reassuring smile "So you're good for now?" He let out a long sigh

"No." Your heart sank. This time you did lay your hand on him. His arm had been raised slightly across him body and you placed your hand on his forearm. He looked down at the contact.

"Din?" You pressed. You'd never spoken his real name before. His helmet snapped up to you at the sound of it.

"I've thought about removing my helmet...." he paused at your slight gasp."....once or twice. Never did I think that Mayfield would be the first person I knew in over 30 years to see my face." He looked down at your hand again. This time he covered it with his own. "I thought....well, I thought it would be you."

He pushed your hand down gently to remove his arm from where you had now begun to grasp it. Before you could fully comprehend what he was saying he lifted his hands to his helmet. There was a hissing sound just as you grabbed his arms to still them.

"Wait!" The gravity of the moment struck you. What this meant to him. What you must mean to him. You began to ramble, trying to convey your feelings to him. ." You don't have to...I mean, it doesn't change anything....the helmet, it doesn't change how I feel...I still..." you took in a quivering breathe unable to finish the last thought out loud, only silently admitting it to yourself.

You heard a smile in Din's voice as he said "I know." You loosened your grip on his arms and let him remove his helmet. He dropped it with a dull thud onto the bed as you stared at him. Something between a nervous laugh and a chuckle of delight bubbled up from inside you. He narrowed his eyes at you before you explained. "Maker, you're handsome." You mentally berated yourself. The poor man was risking something that was a huge part of his life, his identity, his life in an incredible, beautiful gesture to you and that's all you can say.

"Really?" Din asked nervously running his hand through his hair. He had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Your big, tough faceless Mandalorian being suddenly being so vulnerable and awkward in front of you. He began to laugh too. Once the laughter subsided you couldn't help but reach out to touch his face. You laid your palm against the side of his face and rubbed you thumb gently over his cheek. He leaned into you touch. He removed his glove and mirrored the same action to you. His hand was warm and softer than you would have thought. You removed your hand from his face to take his hand in yours. You turned you head slightly as you brought his hand to you lips and laid a gentle kiss to his palm. Din closed his eyes and moaned lightly at the feeling.

You intertwined your fingers with his pulled him closer to you. His free hand made it's way up to cup the side of your head. You took a second to lean into it before looking back at Din. His warm brown eyes were looking into yours and you notice the tip of his tongue quickly sweep across his bottom lip. He leaned in towards you. "Mando!" Boba Fett's voice rang out across the outpost. You could hear his heavy footsteps approaching. Din replaced his helmet just as you saw Boba's armoured shoulder pass the small window behind Din. He knocked on your door. "Y/N?" Din sighed before answering for you "I'm here." Din dipped his head apologetically towards you, heading out the door to speak to the other man.

You sighed, taking a moment to try and sort out all the feelings rushing through you. Most prominently, annoyance, at Boba for interrupting. Din had left the door open so you moved forward to close it. Still lost in your thoughts you were startled when Din's gloved hand gripped the edge of the door and pushed it open. He slipped back inside, kicking the door shut with his foot while removing his helmet. He moved in a blur. You felt the cold of his baskar helmet press into the small of you back, as he wrapped the arm that held it around you. His ungloved hand came to the back of your neck and he pressed his lips to yours. They were softer than you'd imagine all those time lying in the dark aboard the Razor Crest. He kept them firmly pressed to yours for few moments before pulling away. For a very tame, chaste kiss and considering you'd never been at a lost for company in your life, it was easily the most passionate, incredible kiss you'd ever had. He leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning your face as he panted slightly. "I told him I had something important to do. I better go see what he wanted." Replacing his helmet he slipped out into the night leaving you to flop down on your bed as you grinned like a giddy teenager.