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aquietwritingcorner · 9 months ago

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Unexpected Patient

For @tmnt-write-fight for @dandylovesturtles

Title: Unexpected Patient Prompt: Outsider POV of anyone getting rescued by the turtles Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 2855 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: OC (Samantha Craik, Peter Craik), Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, Casey Jones Warning: NA Summary: Samantha Craik did not expect for a stop at a corner store on her way home from her shift at the hospital to put her in life-threatening danger, but it did. She also didn’t expect for the life-threatening danger to put a new patient in her lap, but, well, it was, apparently, a night of unexpected things. Notes: Sam is a character I’ve had around in some form since I was 13, and Peter since my early 20s. I have fun sticking her in fics here and there. This isn’t their first appearance in TMNT fics, as I lent the both of them out to some friends in the late 2000s for their Fast Forward fics. Unfortunately, those are long lost, which is a shame, really. Back up your favorite fics, y’all! ff.net || AO3

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Unexpected Patient

Samantha Craik cursed in her head. She’d have cursed out loud, except she was positive that saying anything out loud right now was not a good idea. Normally this wouldn’t have stopped the fiery red-head, but there were children in this store and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to get hurt on account of her temper. Her blood boiled as these punks pushed through the store, demanding money from people and stealing from the shelves. Stars, Peter was gonna kill her. She should have just gone on to the subway station after her shift at the hospital ended and made do with whatever food they had there instead of stopping for a quick snack.

One of the gang members brandished a knife at her. “Hey—gimmie your money.”

Sam glared at him, but reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. He swiped it from her, opening it, and then frowning. “This is it?” he said.

“If you think I had money, do you think I’d be working at this hospital?” she shot back at him jabbing a finger towards the hospital’s crest that was on her lab coat. “I’m barely out of residency! I’ve still got loans to pay off!”

“Tch.” The punk looked at her disdainfully. “I’ll make more money hocking this wallet then what you have in it.”

“Well pardon me for being poor!”

The punk gestured with his knife. “Get over there with the others!”

Sam made her way over to the other customers, one of the punks taking a moment to look at her. Sam narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, she recognized him. He was a Purple Dragon, and he’d been in and out of her ER a few times. Several of these guys had. And yet, here they were, doing the same crap that got them in her ER to begin with.

“Hey—you got that money yet?” the guy called out, clearly their leader.

“Yeah. Getting the last of it now,” a green-haired punk called out.

The leader nodded and turned back to look at them. There weren’t many people in the store. Sam hadn’t expected there to be, not this late. There was the cashier, a teenager who looked far too stoned to properly see the danger everyone was in; a man who appeared to be in his late sixties, leaning heavily on a cane in a way that told Sam he probably was going to need a knee replacement soon; a young immigrant woman and her two children, none of which seemed to understand much English, but clearly understood the gestures with the guns and knives; and her, a thirty-year-old doctor, straight off of what was supposed to be a twelve hour shift that had turned into a fifteen hour one instead, because sometimes that’s just how it was.

Maybe her mother was right, and she should see about transferring to one of the hospitals in the richer areas of the city.

“Hey!” a punk from outside came running in the door. “The nut with the hockey mask is coming! And you know what that means.”

The leader cursed, and Sam found herself really hoping that the kids didn’t understand English.

“I was hoping not to deal with any green freaks tonight. Alright—bag up what we’ve got and let’s get out of here.” He looked at the group. “And just for good measure—”

He leveled the gun at the old man, and Sam realized just what he was about to do. She moved, shoving his arm up. Was it the smartest thing she could have done? No. Was it what she did anyway? Yeah.

“Leave him alone, you fracking jerk!”

The shot missed, pinging on the light fixture instead, and the man growled and tried to shake her off. In for a penny, in for a pound, she figured. Sam threw herself into fighting him, something that she wasn’t completely useless in. But she was no fighter, and it didn’t take long for the punks to have her pinned to the ground, the gun on her.

“Let go of me you fricking punk!” she snarled, still fighting.

“Since you’re so eager,” the leader said, and she could see him aiming the gun at her out of the corner of her eye, “then you can be the example.”

Oh yeah. If she made it through this, her husband was definitely going to kill her.

Still, she growled and struggled, not willing to just give up and give in.

And then the door slammed open, and something burst in.

“It’s the freaks!” someone shouted, and the gun was suddenly off of her and fixated on something else, going off as a fight broke out.

Sam wasn’t a stupid woman, and she knew an opportunity when she saw it. Despite the grip the man that was still holding her had on her long hair, Sam twisted in his grasp, kicked him right in his junk, and then twisted her head to bite the hand that still had her shoulder. The man let out a gasp, and Sam rolled, not getting to her feet, but scrambling back and away from things.

The woman with her children were cowering, and Sam looked them over, trying to find any sort of cultural distinguisher on them. She knew a few words in different languages, and she hoped she guessed the right one.

“Go!” she said, her accent terrible, and pointed towards the storeroom door. The woman’s eyes lit up in understanding, and she grabbed her kids’ hands, speaking rapidly to them and tugging them with her. They all moved like they had escaped violent situations before, but Sam didn’t have time to spare more than an observation about that.

The stoned teenager must have had more sense than she thought, because he was gone, and the old man, seeing where the woman had gone, was already following along. Good. Then it was just her.

And then, suddenly she found herself being yanked backwards by her hair, a strong hand pulling her by her long braid. She had the presence of mind to try to twist around, her hair long enough to give her that freedom, but it didn’t work, and she realized that the leader of the punks had her as he pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her neck. She struggled, insults pouring from her lips as she did, but she stopped when the gun was put to her head once more.

“No one move, or the lady doctor here gets it,” he said.

Sam twitched in his arms and growled. “Glad to know me saving your scummy life means something. Next time I’ll give it the attention it’s worth!”

“You,” he said, “don’t say nothing either.”

Sam growled again but switched her attention to looking at who else the punk was addressing. Her eyes widened as she took in who—or what—was in front of her. Four green figures, turtles, all wielding some sort of weapons, and a tall, dark-haired man in a hockey mask with a hockey stick in his hands.

Somehow, he looked the most out of place out of all of them.

Sam had heard rumors of the turtle men before. She’d not put much stock into the stories at first. All sorts of crazies came into the ER, especially at night, and some strung out druggie or beat up punk talking about karate turtles just made her double check their toxicology report. You never knew when there was a bad batch on the street.

But the stories persisted, and she heard them from other places as well. She still hadn’t quite put her faith in those stories. It all seemed like some sort of gimmick to her. But now that the proof was in front of her, well, she couldn’t help but conclude that maybe she should have paid a bit more attention to those rumors.

“Let her go,” the one with the blue mask said. “She’s an innocent.”

“If she hadn’t of interfered, we’d have been gone before you four freaks got—wait, why are there only three of you,” the leader snarled.

And that was when everything went even more wrong than it had so far.

The Dragon went to move his gun from her head to point at one of the turtle men. Sam took the opportunity to jerk her head forward to bite the arm that held her in place and reached back to grab him in a very personal way and twist. At the same time, something came flying out of the air and embedded itself in the Dragon’s hand. A turtle-man leapt forward and tackled her down and out of the way. And at the same time, the gun went off.

The Dragon howled in pain, there was a shout of pain from the opposite direction, and someone screaming “Donnie!” A thud came from the direction of the Dragon, a clack from the direction of the turtle men, and the turtle man that had tackled her out of the way and had somehow kept from squishing her, came up on his feet, setting her on hers before he rushed over towards the turtle Sam could now see being supported by the man, his red mask tails streaking out behind him.

“What the he—” Sam said, mostly to herself as she took in the scenes in front of her.

The turtle with the blue mask stood over the downed Dragon. The man was clearly bleeding out, and Sam was more than a little certain that there was nothing do to save him. A turtle man with an orange mask was hurrying from the direction of the counter towards the other two turtles and the man. The man was lowering a purple-masked turtle to the ground, clearly supporting him.

Well, it seemed pretty clear what she needed to do.

Shaking off her shock and falling back into her professional mindset, Sam hurried forward.

“Move,” she said bluntly, watching as they settled the purple-masked one—Donnie, she presumed—on the ground, the orange-masked one using his lap as a pillow for the other. She could hear the blue-masked one’s footsteps behind her.

The red-masked one whirled on her, clearly upset, his strange, pronged weapons held in his hands. “Look, sister—” he started.

Sam was having none of it. “I said, move!” she snapped at him. “I’m a doctor, I can help! Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“Let her see Don, Raph,” Leo said. “She might can help him where we can’t.”

Raph seemed to want to resist for a moment, but he stepped back and Sam moved next to the injured turtle.

“It’s not too bad,” Donnie was saying through grit teeth. His hands were already at his thigh, trying to tie a tourniquet around it.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, reaching into her scrub pockets and pulling out a pair of gloves. She pushed her long braid behind her shoulders, pulled the gloves on, and got to work.

“Donnie, right?” said as she worked.

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright. And the rest of you?”

“I’m Mikey,” the orange-masked one said.

“Leo,” the blue-masked one offered.

“Raph,” the one with the red mask said.

“Casey,” the only other human said.

“Alright. I’m Dr. Samantha Craik. I work in the hospital down the road,” she said. She looked up at Donnie. “I’m going to take good care of you, alright? But I’m gonna need some information. I’m not familiar with turtles, much less whatever you are.”

Don chuckled a little, but then stopped when it hurt. “I’ll see what I can do, Doc,” he said, clearly trying to breathe through the pain.

Sam just nodded. “I’m assuming you don’t want to go to the hospital?” she said.

“No.” The answer came quick and sure from Leo, and Sam nodded.

“Alright. In that case, here’s what I need.”

The store had the most of the things she needed and Donnie’s bag helpfully provided the rest. Donnie had gotten lucky. The bullet hadn’t hit anything important, and it was fairly clean in-and-out wound. Ideally, she’s have hopped him up on painkillers, taken some scans, put him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and gotten him some blood, but none of that was possible at the moment.

Instead, she snapped out orders to the other turtle-men, sterilized things as best she could, and got to work, cursing the Purple Dragons with every spare breath she had.

“Idiotic low-life—hold his leg still—punks who can’t figure out that—keep that pressure!—that all they’re gonna have is a short and—this is gonna hurt, Donnie—violent life where no one will ever want to remember them—you’re doing good—and they’ll either—almost done with this side—die young or rot in prison—”

“I kinda like you,” Raph said to her.

“I’ll add that to my resume,” she shot back immediately, not even thinking about it. Mikey laughed, but it seemed to ease the turtles and their human friend a bit.

Finally, she sat back, putting things away and stripping off her gloves. “There,” she said. She looked over at Leo, as he seemed the most responsible of the bunch. “He needs to stay off of it. I don’t know if you have access to antibiotics, but those can’t hurt. Keep it clean and wrapped. Those stitches will have to be taken out, so—”

“We can handle that,” Leo said. “We’ve done it before.”

“Although it’s usually Donnie doing this kind of stuff,” Mikey said.

“I’ll… be able to do it… by then…” Donnie said, his face still pinched in pain.

Sam nodded. “Fine.” She hesitated. “If you need anything, come find me. Something tells me you don’t have a lot of medical access.” She looked around and picked up a discarded piece of cardboard and pulled a pen out of her pocket. “Here. That’s my number. Call me. Or come to the hospital and ask for me, or Peter Craik—my husband,” she said at Leo’s look.

He took the number and tucked it into his belt, even as Raph was kneeling in front of Donnie, shell to him as Mikey and Casey helped Don sit up. In the distance sirens sounded.

“We will,” he said. “Thank you, Dr. Craik. But for now, we have to go. Raph?”

“Good to go,” Raph said, standing up with Donnie clinging to his shell.

“See ya, doc!” Mikey said with a wave.

The four of them headed out the back, but Casey hesitated for a moment. “Ya good, Doc?”

Sam sighed. “Well, someone has to stay behind and explain this—and something tells me that you shouldn’t be here anymore than them.”

“Heh. Maybe,” Casey said. “Seriously, though, thanks Doc.” He headed out the back as well, following behind, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the store with a dead Purple Dragon and several that were tied up—although she had no idea when that had happened.

She sighed and sat down on the floor as the sirens got closer. This was going to be a mess.

Sam was right. It was a mess. She had to explain over and over again that some vigilantes had come in and saved them, that one had gotten wounded, and that she had done her best to treat him, as per her oath, but that, no, she didn’t know what they looked like under their masks and that, no, she had no idea who they were or where they had gone. By the time it was all over with and the police accepted her statement, the sun was up, and her husband was waiting on her.

“Sam!” he said, rushing towards her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m tired, my hair is a mess, I had my life threatened, I had to do field medicine, and I’ve not slept in nearly twenty-four hours,” she snapped. “What do you think?”

Peter just grinned at her. “I think that, if you’re snapping like that at me, that you’re probably alright. Let’s get out of here.”

The two left the police station, and headed home, Peter holding Sam’s hand. They were quiet for a moment, and then, softly, Peter murmured to her.

“So, are you going to tell me what really happened?”

Sam didn’t answer for a moment. “…when we get home,” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?” he asked, not condemning, but clearly curious.

“Because sometimes, ‘do no harm’ is more than just the patient’s body,” Sam said irritably.

Peter laughed. “And that’s why I love you,” he said.

“Because I take my oath seriously?” Sam demanded, shooting him a look.

Peter grinned at her. “Because when you’ve decided something’s your duty, nothing can stop you—especially if it’s for the good of your patients.”

Sam harumphed, but he wasn’t wrong, she reflected. And as they walked down the street and down into the subway station she should have entered into last night, Sam wondered if she’d ever see those particular patients again.

After all, a good doctor always followed up.

#tmntwritefight #tmntwritefight fic #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #outsider POV #OC

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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My Heart’s Home (m) | pjm | chapter 13

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

Jimin thinks back on all this bad decisions, and how much he has truly hurt you. He loves you, and he wants you back, but unable to articulate his feelings properly, he finds himself writing a letter to you.

→ Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc → Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. → AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au → Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! → Chapter warnings: low self-esteem, low confidence, hurt, sadness, overthinking, destructive thoughts, Jimin’s POV, angst, mention of sex. → Status: completed → Word count: 13.4k → Now playing “Love Someone” by Lukas Graham. → Author’s note: this is entirely from Jimin’s POV. Both OC and Jimin have been through a lot, and they have both hurt each other in different ways (but mostly it’s been Jimin hurting her 😭). In this chapter, we will get better insight into Jimin’s thoughts and his feelings all the way from the beginning! I really hope you like it— please let me know. I know Jimin has been behaving horribly, and I’m not excusing his behavior with the chapter, I’m simply saying that he is a flawed human like the rest of us, and no, we might not all agree or even understand his behavior, but.. 🥹 And if you don’t like these kind of chapters/stories were the story is essentially being retold from another character’s point of view, it’s fine, you are welcome to skip it, but if you want to know why Jimin has been acting like a douche, this one’s for you. Also, there are a bit of new stuff in here too, but it’s mostly just Jimin thinking about his bad behavior, lol, so it’s quite sad too 😭 → Author’s note— extra: I’m almost finished with writing the series and I got this cute idea to do a Q&A with the characters (questions for me is also okay). So, you can already send in your asks (could also be a comment/reblog, though I think asks are easier for me to keep track of). I’ll turn on anon asks, so if you prefer that, there’s that option. But please, be nice, okay? (not that I don’t expect that of you, I’ve just gotten nasty asks before). You can ask anything, to the characters, like why the behaved/thought/said something or what they didn’t say or do 🤭 → Read on AO3? [link]

“We have enough to guide us We have enough to last We’re not alone We never were You and I aren’t lost Oh hold me very tightly Hold me fast and strong I am your love Won’t stray from you You and I belong”‘My Heart is Like a River’ by Rebecca Lavelle

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Fuck.

This was the last thing he expected.

He never envisioned this moment, the one where you’d walk away, leaving him shattered and angry. He didn’t want this. Not in the slightest. Yet here he is, consumed by a turbulent mix of sorrow and self-directed fury, haunted by a year’s worth of regrettable decisions. He’s unable to find sleep, which is why he sinks into the couch at night, his knuckles white with tension as he grips a pen, its tip poised over the stark emptiness of the paper laid out before him.

He grasps the reasons behind your decision to end things, but the ache it leaves behind is too much. It’s a raw, searing pain that gnaws at him relentlessly. Understanding that he’s the architect of his own misery only compounds the agony. How does he begin to convey the depth of his remorse, the magnitude of his love for you? Every mistake he’s made weighs heavily on his conscience, a burden he’s not sure he can ever fully unburden. The prospect of reaching out to you now feels daunting, uncertain. He can still vividly recall the anguish etched across your face as you uttered those words, and the thought of adding to your pain is unbearable. For too long, he’s been a source of hurt, and the realization cuts him to the core.

He despises himself for causing you so much pain.

Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, he grapples with the enormity of his love for you and the depth of his remorse. Words, he knows, can only scratch the surface of what he truly feels. How does one encapsulate a torrent of emotions in mere letters? Yet, he resolves to try, to lay bare his heart in this letter, hoping that somewhere amidst the ink-stained pages, you’ll find a glimmer of understanding, a shard of forgiveness.

As he traverses the hallway, the resonating clinks of heels guide his steps, drawing him towards the kitchen like a siren’s call. Entering, he beholds a vision: a woman, clad in a summer dress that dances with every step, her attire an incongruous yet captivating sight against the rustic backdrop. A wry smile tugs at his lips as he observes her, her presence a curious enigma, tinged with a hint of déjà vu. Could it be? Has he crossed paths with her before, or is she merely a figment of his imagination, conjured from distant memories?

“Can I help you?” He ventures, his tone a blend of curiosity and a subtle undercurrent of intrigue. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the contours of your form, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you. Yet, met with silence, he repeats his inquiry, his voice carrying a note of gentle persistence.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, the nervous energy palpable in your voice as you fidget with the folds of your dress, “I’m looking for Jessi?”

He chuckles warmly, a playful glint in his eyes as he flashes you a disarming smile. “Who are you?” His curiosity piqued, he leans in slightly, intrigued by your unexpected presence.

“I’m Jessi’s sister,” you declare confidently, your arms folding beneath your chest. As the realization dawns on him, he’s flooded with a mix of surprise and nostalgia. Of course, you’re Jessi’s sister! How could he have missed it? Memories come flooding back, of days spent playing together as children, and he can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the sight of you, his childhood friend. A hint of that old crush resurfaces, sending his heart racing in his chest.

His cheeks warm with a blush, though he fights to keep it concealed. Admitting that his crush on you never waned might be too much, too soon. “You don’t remember me?” He ventures, a flicker of hope in his eyes, yet tinged with apprehension. The thought that you might not recall him is unsettling; after all, he had his own struggles recognizing you, despite the unmistakable familiarity.

As you simply stare at him, he adds, “It’s me, Jimin,” a hint of self-realization accompanying his words. It dawns on him that he never properly introduced himself, contributing to the confusion.

“Park?” You echo, incredulity weaving through your voice as you study him, and a soft chuckle escapes him, granting you a moment to recollect the countless hours spent playing together.

“Yeah! Don’t you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, gently nudging your memory in the hope of rekindling the moments of your childhood, now flooding vividly back to him.

You were such a vibrant and spirited girl back then, and you’re just as captivating now. You used to play games with him and your sister, embarking on countless adventures around your ranch and his parents’ property.

As recognition dawns upon you, he observes the tension in your features melting away, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Gesturing for you to take a seat, he retrieves a glass of water, all the while marveling at your presence. You look breathtaking, and the realization that you’re back hits him like a tidal wave. It’s been two decades since he last saw you, yet the memories flood back with a vengeance, reigniting the flames of that childhood crush in his heart.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, aware of the complexity of losing a parent, especially considering the strained relationship you’ve had with her for years, details he gleaned from your sister. Your expression shifts into one of pain, but you quickly dismiss it with a “It’s whatever,” though he senses it's anything but. Respectful of your boundaries, he refrains from probing further, though he silently wishes you’d open up. If ever you needed someone to talk to, he’d be there in a heartbeat, ready to lend a listening ear and a comforting shoulder to cry on, no matter the hour.

He offers you a warm, reassuring smile, a gesture he knows he can manage in times like these. Just then, he hears the familiar footsteps of your sister approaching, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Her usual nagging about work trailing behind her like a persistent echo. But sometimes, he thinks, a brief respite is necessary before diving back into the grind. With a chuckle, he bids you farewell, promising to return to his tasks shortly. As he returns to his work, a contented smile graces his lips, though beneath the surface, his heart races with an unexpected flurry of emotions, stirred up by your unexpected presence.

As the barn party kicks off, Jimin finds himself consumed by thoughts of you, his mind drifting back to the encounter in the kitchen. It’s a strange sensation, akin to the giddiness of a schoolboy harboring a secret crush—except in this case, it's not just a youthful infatuation; it’s a reunion with someone from his past. When you and your father left the ranch, he never imagined seeing you again, the sudden departure leaving him with unspoken feelings he couldn't articulate at the time. He regrets not expressing his affection for you back then, but in hindsight, he knows you were both just kids, and such declarations might not have been taken seriously anyway.

Now that you’ve returned and his dormant feelings have resurfaced with a vengeance, Jimin feels an urgent need to express himself. He’s torn between the desire to reconnect with you as friends or dare to hope for something more. As he attempts to rein in his racing thoughts, he realizes just how awkward he can be around women, especially you, whom he holds in such high regard. But despite his nervousness, his affection for you outweighs his fear of awkwardness, propelling him to seek a meaningful connection with you once more.

The barn pulses with the rhythm of the music, matching the frantic beat of Jimin’s thoughts. He caught a glimpse of you earlier, but amidst the sea of people, he’s lost sight of you. The desire to reconnect with you burns fiercely within him, igniting the hope of maybe mustering the courage to ask you out on a date. As he navigates through the crowd, he can’t shake the anticipation building in his chest, eager to find you and seize the opportunity to reignite your friendship.

As Jimin steps outside into the darkness, his heart races with anticipation, but what he encounters crushes him like a ton of bricks. His eyes land on you, pinned against the wall by his own brother, Jungkook, their heavy breaths echoing in the night. The sight drains the color from his world, leaving him feeling hollow and breathless. It’s a visceral punch to the gut, witnessing you entangled with his brother in such an intimate embrace. He can’t stand to look, the sickness rising in his throat threatens to overwhelm him. With a quick turn, he retreats back inside, his heart heavy with sorrow, his body trembling with a coldness that belies the heat of the barn.

Your eyes, reflecting surprise and sorrow, haunt his thoughts relentlessly. Jimin’s anger simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the sight of you with his brother. Jungkook’s magnetic charm is a curse Jimin knows all too well. It’s a pattern he’s witnessed countless times— his dates inevitably gravitate towards Jungkook’s allure, leaving Jimin feeling like a mere shadow in comparison. The pain of this familiar betrayal cuts deep, gnawing at his insides. He curses himself for his own hesitance, wishing he had seized the chance to connect with you before Jungkook’s spell took hold. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be entangled with his brother now.

His chest tightens with a mix of fury and resignation. Rationality tells him you owe him nothing, yet the sting of rejection cuts deep. It’s a bitter pill he’s swallowed before, a recurring cycle of dashed hopes. Jungkook’s effortless allure always casts a shadow over Jimin’s prospects, leaving him feeling like fate’s perpetual underdog. The injustice of it all boils within him, a potent blend of anger and despair.

The weight of disappointment crushes his spirit, suffocating any semblance of enjoyment. What’s the point of staying at the party when the sight of you with his brother taints every corner of the barn? It’s a bitter pill to swallow, realizing he’s become a mere spectator in the game of love, always on the sidelines while Jungkook effortlessly steals the show. With a heavy heart, he contemplates leaving, unwilling to dampen the festivities with his darkening mood.

Jimin’s heart clenches at the mere thought of encountering you again, knowing all too well the anguish that awaits him in your eyes. Since witnessing you with his brother, he’s been ensnared by a whirlwind of hurt and resentment, emotions he’s been struggling to untangle. Your return, alongside your sister, feels like a cruel twist of fate, forcing him to confront the turmoil bubbling within him. Avoiding your gaze has become his coping mechanism, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the raw vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. Deep down, he still harbors affection for you, but the shadow of your entanglement with Jungkook looms large, casting doubt on any potential future between you. He doesn’t think you’ll ever be satisfied with him, now that you’ve been with his brother. The bitter realization gnaws at his soul, threatening to consume him whole. Yet, he knows dwelling on such thoughts serves no purpose, only deepening the wounds already etched into his heart.

“Where’s Kook?” Your sister’s inquiry cuts through the heavy silence, offering Jimin a fleeting respite from the tumult of his emotions. Grateful for the distraction, he exhales a silent sigh of relief, seizing the opportunity to avert his gaze from you, if only for a moment longer.

“In the barn fixing his bike, I’ll get him,” he responds with a forced smile, determined to maintain a facade of composure despite the turmoil within. As he strides past both of you, he catches the subtle shift in your gaze, but he refuses to acknowledge it, steeling himself against the flood of emotions threatening to engulf him. Ignoring you feels like self-preservation, a necessary shield against the ache in his heart.

Jimin locates his brother, and together they make their way back to where you and your sister stand. Jungkook, ever the cocky one, can’t resist a jab, his smirk evident as he quips, “Back for round two?”

Jimin scowls at his brother’s remark, finding him insufferable as usual. Anger bubbles within him, exacerbated by the widened shock in your eyes, as if they might pop out of their sockets at any moment. With an exasperated eye roll, Jimin brushes off Jungkook’s comment.

“No, thank you,” you sputter, and Jimin can’t help but feel a glimmer of relief, sensing that you’re not interested in his brother’s crude advances.

“You’re welcome anytime, babe,” his brother teases, winking at you, and Jimin suppresses a sigh. Jungkook’s flirtatious nature is no secret, but at this moment, Jimin can’t help but feel a twinge of irritation at his brother’s antics.

“Enough of that,” your sister declares, her interruption a welcome relief from the tension swirling in the air. Jimin exhales slowly, grateful for the distraction, as the mere thought of you and Jungkook ignites a fiery surge of jealousy within him. He knows delving into the depths of his unresolved emotions would only unravel him further, and he’s not ready to confront that turmoil just yet.

He catches the subtle glances you steal in his direction, but your eyes dart away the moment they meet his. It’s a confusing dance of fleeting interest, leaving Jimin bewildered and uncertain. After all, you’ve been intimate with his brother, so why would you show any interest in him? The ambiguity of your gaze sends his thoughts spiraling, unsure of what to make of the situation. Deciding it’s best to avoid further speculation, Jimin opts to keep his gaze lowered, wrestling with the tumult of emotions churning within him.

The bar door swings open, and there you are, clad in nothing but pants and a bra. His gaze darts to your anxious eyes, taking in the tremble of your body as you and your entourage make your way over to their table.

“Did you lose a bet or something?” Jungkook’s voice rings out, accompanied by a sharp whistle and a burst of laughter. Jimin rolls his eyes, frustration bubbling up at his brother’s relentless teasing of you.

He watches as you effortlessly roll your eyes at his brother’s teasing remark, your composure unshaken as you confidently take a seat.

“Well. Someone doesn’t share clothes. Apparently.” You quip with a hint of playful spite, directing your gaze at your sister, and he can’t help but chuckle, hastily concealing it behind a hand pressed to his lips.

You’re introduced to Yoongi and Hoseok, and Soo-ah hands you a beer, initiating conversation. Jimin finds his gaze lingering on your exposed skin, noticing the goosebumps forming and wondering if you’re feeling the chill.

“Aren’t you cold?” He notices how you bite your lip, but you merely shrug in response. Jimin considers offering you his shirt, though he’s unsure of how you’d react. Despite being comfortable sitting shirtless himself, he contemplates making the gesture anyway—

“Here. You can have my shirt,” his brother beats him to it, and Jimin grumbles, clenching his hands under the table in frustration. Damn it. He had wanted to offer you his shirt, but now he’s too late because he hesitated and over-thought the situation. Again.

God, sometimes Jimin really despises his brother.

“Well, look who’s playing the gentleman,” Yoongi teases with a playful smack to Jungkook’s chest, and Jimin can’t help but roll his eyes once more. He’s well aware that his brother always has an agenda, always.

“Easier to pick up the ladies like this, anyway,” Jungkook remarks with a smirk, confirming Jimin’s suspicions. Jungkook may not be aiming to win you back, but he’s always on the lookout for the next pretty face. It’s moments like these that remind Jimin just how shallow his brother can be, always thinking with his dick instead of his brain.

As the table empties out, leaving just you and Jimin, a palpable tension lingers in the air, thickening with each passing moment. He can sense your uncertainty, and it mirrors his own nervousness. The weight of the unspoken words between you feels heavy, almost suffocating. Jimin shifts uncomfortably, unsure if he should break the silence or let it linger, unsure if his words will only add to the tension.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” your hesitant voice cuts through the tension like a knife, breaking the suffocating silence that had settled between you. With a nervous expression, you fidget with your beer, your eyes betraying a mixture of apprehension and genuine concern.

His breath catches in his throat, surprised by your unexpected apology. Nodding gently, he gestures for you to elaborate, his mind racing with a blend of curiosity and cautious apprehension. Though uncertain of the reason behind your apology, he’s prepared to listen, his thoughts swirling with tentative guesses.

“I’m sorry I slept with your brother…” Your words cut through the air like a chilling breeze, each syllable heavy with the weight of regret. In a hushed confession, you lay bare the source of your apology, and he feels his chest tighten in response. His facade wavers momentarily, a flinch betraying the torrent of emotions raging within him. Beneath the veneer of composure, a tempest of anger swirls, threatening to engulf him in its fiery grasp.

“Why apologize for that?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity, a mask for the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. With a casual sip of his beer, he studies you intently, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. You’re allowed to fuck whoever you want, he acknowledges inwardly, but the bitterness lingers, souring the taste of his thoughts. It’s not so much the act itself that stings, but the circumstances surrounding it—his brother, the witness to your intimacy. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and he can’t help but lament the unfortunate twist of fate.

“It just seems like you’re angry with me… or something,” you add tentatively, your words laced with apprehension. He notices the nervous edge in your voice, the subtle tremor betraying your uncertainty, and how you avert your gaze, as if unable to meet his eyes.

“Look,” he starts, leaning in slightly over the table, his voice measured yet tinged with underlying emotion, “I’m not really angry. Maybe I’m more disappointed?” Despite his attempt at rationalizing his feelings, he knows deep down that anger brews within him, though its target remains elusive—whether directed at you or his brother, he’s unsure. After all, they’re all adults here, and dwelling on this resentment won’t change anything. Deep down, he knows he’s harboring a sense of anger, not necessarily at you, but at the recurring pattern where his brother always seems to come out on top. It’s a feeling of disappointment that runs deeper than just this one incident—it’s a narrative that’s unfolded over years, leaving him questioning his own worth. And he recognizes, it isn’t your fault; you’re just caught in the crossfire of a longstanding dynamic.

“You are, of course, allowed to sleep with whoever you want to. It’s just… it’s always him.” His words carry a raw edge, laced with a palpable mix of frustration and resentment. Jungkook’s recurring presence in such situations gnaws at him, a constant reminder of his brother’s tendency to overshadow him. Yet, even amidst his own turmoil, he realizes the futility of roping you into their tangled sibling rivalry. It’s an unhealthy dynamic, one he knows all too well, and he doesn’t want to drag you into its murky depths.

He watches as a wave of realization washes over your features, but he feels compelled to add more. “All women are drawn to him. He’s always fucking around. Not that I’m saying I want to be like that, but sometimes, it would be nice to feel noticed, you know?” Damn it. He said too much. Did he have too many beers? No, he’s barely finished his first bottle, and yet here he is, pouring out truths from the depths of his heart.

Damn it, why did he say that? He curses inwardly, realizing he’s delving into territory he’d rather avoid. He desperately needs to steer the conversation elsewhere, pronto.

“You know… When I saw you that day in the kitchen after all those years,” he starts tentatively, hoping to shift the focus away from his raw emotions.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, a gesture betraying the turmoil within. “I never thought I would see you again when you and your father left,” he confesses, a mixture of longing and regret bubbling beneath the surface, camouflaged by a forced chuckle.

His nerves prickle like a live wire, urging him to speak, even as his mind screams caution. “Did you know,” he blurts, the words tumbling out despite his better judgment, “I had a crush on you when we were kids?” His throat tightens with apprehension, berating himself internally for the sudden confession. Was it just one beer he had? Because why on earth would he reveal this now?

“I had no idea,” you reply, your voice laced with surprise and regret, your features softening with an apologetic expression. “I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, though the tension in his voice betrays his true feelings. His heart races with nervousness, cursing himself for his lack of restraint in revealing his past crush. But there’s a deeper secret he keeps buried: his current feelings for you, maybe even love. It’s a precarious balance between wanting to confess and fearing rejection. He prays his mouth won’t betray him again, divulging more than he’s ready to admit.

Sensing the danger of delving further into emotions, he swiftly changes the topic, opting for safer conversational waters. Offering to fetch another round of beers, he steers the discussion towards lighter subjects. Yet, beneath his composed facade, he finds himself unnerved by you. There’s an undeniable allure to your demeanor— a blend of nervousness and confidence that both intrigues and intimidates him. He’s drawn to your self-assuredness, yet fears the intensity of his own feelings, wary of pushing you away with his overwhelming emotions.

“I’ve been considering heading back home. It just feels like I mess everything up…” You confess, your words tinged with uncertainty, and he feels a surge of emotion. Panic grips him at the mere thought of you leaving. No. No. He can’t stand the idea of you walking away, of missing out on the potential moments you could share together. Despite his internal conflict, a selfish desire whispers in his heart, urging you to stay, if only for a little while longer.

“No, no, you shouldn’t give up. Please, give it some more time,” he urges, his voice laced with genuine concern. Each word carries the weight of his longing, a silent plea for you to stay. Memories of his childhood flood his mind, reminding him of the warmth you brought to his heart. He can’t stand the thought of losing you again, not when he feels a flicker of hope reignite in his heart at your return.

Jimin has been surreptitiously observing you as you sort wool with Yoongi, stealing glances whenever he can muster the courage. Each time your eyes meet his, it sends a flutter through his chest, a silent reminder of the unresolved emotions swirling within him. He grapples with the realization that maybe he’s been too quick to let his insecurities dictate his reactions, especially when he witnessed you with his brother. Yet, amidst the tangled mess of doubts and hopes, one thing remains clear—he still harbors feelings for you. With each passing moment, he wrestles with the notion of reaching out, of bridging the gap that has formed between you. Could there be a chance to mend what’s broken, to transcend the shadow of past misunderstandings? As he contemplates these questions, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s a glimmer of mutual interest between you two. But how does one navigate the delicate dance of reigniting a connection fraught with uncertainties? Jimin finds himself at a loss, grappling with the complexities of his own heart as he yearns for a sign, a signal that could pave the way for a new beginning.

Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, Jimin’s thoughts scatter like startled birds as your sister’s sharp reprimand slices through the air. He can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you, knowing firsthand the intensity of Jessi’s temper. Watching your gaze falter, retreating from the accusatory finger jabbing in your direction, he senses your discomfort like a palpable wave washing over the scene. A surge of concern floods Jimin’s chest as he worries about the impact Jessi’s harsh words might have on you. Could this tirade be the final straw, driving you away for good? The fear gnaws at him, a silent plea echoing in his mind for some semblance of peace to return to the tense atmosphere.

As you take a hesitant step backward, Jimin’s heart clenches with concern, his grip on the clippers loosening as he watches you dart towards the door. Without a second thought, he abandons the tools and bolts after you, propelled by a surge of urgency to catch up and ensure you’re okay.

“Please come back,” Jimin’s plea is tinged with desperation as he watches you retreat towards the house. His heart races with a sense of urgency, knowing he can’t let you leave without offering some comfort. He longs to reassure you that your sister’s harshness doesn't define your worth, that everything will eventually fall into place.

As you pivot, a look of anguish etched across your features, you confess, “I fuck everything up Jimin.” His heart aches at your admission, wondering what else burdens your mind. “I feel utterly useless on this ranch,” you add, your voice heavy with self-doubt. Jimin's resolve strengthens, determined to offer you the solace and encouragement you desperately need.

“It’s to be expected. You’ll get better,” he reassures you, his voice laced with sincerity. Despite his efforts to comfort you, he notices how you’ve withdrawn into yourself, lost in your own thoughts.

“Do you think I belong here?” Your question catches him off guard and he gapes at you, but he already knows the answer to your question, so it’s easy.

“I do,” he says, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that belies the simplicity of the words. It’s a plea, a fervent wish whispered into the air, a silent urging for you to see what he sees – that this place, this ranch, is where you truly belong. Deep down, he knows it’s selfish, but damn it, he can’t stand the thought of you leaving.

“I believe you just need time,” he offers with a gentle smile, though beneath it, he can feel the weight of your uncertainty. It’s a small offering of solace, but he knows words alone can’t ease the turmoil brewing within you.

“I don’t think I fit in, and I feel like an imposter,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Each word strikes a chord within him, a pang of sadness laced with determination. He can’t take the thought of you feeling out of place, not when he envisions you finding your footing here, becoming a part of this place he calls home. He believes in you, in your ability to belong, and he’s willing to give you all the time you need to see it too.

One thing is a childhood crush, but delving into the depths of who you are now, the adult version of you, that’s what he craves. He yearns to unravel the layers, to discover if there’s a deeper connection waiting to be unearthed between you two, something more profound and meaningful than just fleeting feelings from the past.

As the rain cascades down upon both of you, Jimin’s attention isn’t on the weather, but on you, on your emotions. “We should get back” he suggests, aware that the rain shows no signs of relenting. Yet, amidst the downpour, he seizes a moment of boldness, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “You belong here,” he affirms, his touch conveying a silent plea for you to stay, to weather the storm together, not just the rain outside, but the uncertainties within.

He prays silently that his words and gestures are enough to anchor you here, but deep down, he understands he can’t dictate your choices. The decision to stay must be yours alone, driven by your own desires and dreams. Yet, a fervent longing swells within him, an unspoken wish that you’ll choose to remain, not for his sake, but for your own. Oh, how he yearns for you to stay.

You left. It’s a twist he didn’t see coming, yet somehow, it makes sense. Your sister’s relentless demands and the weight of your own insecurities pushed you away. He empathizes; Jessi’s temper can be overwhelming, and she hasn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat for you. And your self-doubt about your skills on the ranch? He gets it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and he certainly wasn’t a master of everything from the get-go either. Improvement comes with time, and he believes in your potential to thrive.

Why does he find himself standing in front of your city home, heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird? He knocks, and when the door swings open, you greet him with a mix of surprise and puzzlement, yet your smile, soft and tender, ignites a wildfire of hope in his chest.

“Jimin?” Your voice carries a blend of curiosity and caution, eyes darting around to confirm his identity, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in their depths.

“Hey,” he greets you with a hint of shyness, his voice slightly uneven as if your mere presence has the power to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within him. You have this uncanny ability to make his heart flutter and his nerves dance, rendering him almost breathless in your presence.

“Come in,” you invite, and as he steps across the threshold, his senses are immediately greeted by the cozy compact hallway, each corner whispering tales of your daily life within the confines of your two-bedroom apartment.

“What brings you here, Jimin?” You inquire, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of anticipation, inviting him to share the purpose of his unexpected visit. His heart races with the weight of unspoken words, debating whether to reveal the depth of his feelings, to confess how much he misses you and yearns for your return. Yet, he hesitates, fearing that such raw honesty might overwhelm you, opting instead to tread lightly into the depths of the conversation.

“I came here because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts, his gaze wandering around your apartment. An easel catches his eye, displaying a painting in the corner. He hadn’t realized you painted. Memories of your childhood passion for art resurface, but he hadn’t expected you to continue. Your dedication surprises and impresses him. As he admires the artwork, he can’t help but think how much it reflects your beauty and depth, a reflection of the intricate layers of your soul.

“You mentioned wanting to talk?” You inquire, drawing his attention away from your paintings. There’s a hint of curiosity in your voice, and he notices the way your eyes search his face, as if trying to decipher his thoughts. He feels a sudden rush of nerves, realizing the weight of the conversation he’s about to embark upon.

“Sure, let’s go to a cafe and have that talk,” he proposes, a spark of anticipation igniting in his eyes, his heart quickening with the prospect of finally opening up to you.

You suggest heading to a nearby café, and he readily agrees, the anticipation building as you walk the short distance together. Your demeanor betrays a hint of anxiety, and he can’t blame you—after all, he did show up unannounced, eager to talk. Arriving at the café, you both place your orders, and Jimin can feel the nervous energy coursing through him at the thought of opening up to you. But as he steals glances at your radiant smile, he knows he needs to gather his thoughts and make this moment count.

As you dig into your chocolate cake, you turn to him with a curious glint in your eyes. “So, what’s on your mind?” you inquire, your voice carrying a mix of anticipation and intrigue.

He can’t help but chuckle nervously, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying his unease as his hand moves to shield his smile. “It’s about you actually,” he confesses, his gaze lingering on you, as if searching for the right words to convey the weight of his thoughts.

He watches intently as your eyes widen, your lips parting in shock. “Me?” You echo softly, the word hanging in the air, laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

He feels his heart quicken its pace, his palms moistening with nervousness. “We miss you,” he admits, his voice a blend of longing and reluctance. Jimin knows he shouldn’t reveal too much, shouldn’t tell you how much he misses you. Yeah, the other’s miss you too and your sister actually regrets how she had been treating you. The words are close to spill out anyway. He can’t help it. Your puzzled expression prompts him to elaborate, “Everybody back home.”

The words sting him like a slap in the face. “That place isn’t my home anymore,” you declare, and each syllable feels like a dagger to his heart. He knows deep down that your old home could be your sanctuary once more, if only you’d give it another chance.

“It could be,” he responds softly, his words laden with unspoken longing. He wrestles with the urge to confess how much he aches for your presence, but he reins it in, wary of overwhelming you. Yet, glimpsing your paintings in your apartment, he discerns a silent yearning for the ranch.

“Everybody misses you, even your sister,” he adds, hoping to bridge the chasm between your worlds.

You scoff at that notion, momentarily entertaining the idea that your sister orchestrated his visit. He almost finds it amusing. Sure, Jessi might regret her actions, but her pride likely won’t allow her to apologize. He came here of his own volition, driven solely by his feelings for you. And as he gauges your response, he wonders if your sentiments mirror his own. He longs for certainty before taking the next step, eager to discern if your heart echoes his.

You spend the remaining time engaged in conversation about his heartfelt conviction that you belong on the ranch. He earnestly endeavors to sway your decision, silently yearning for your return—not just to the land, but to him. Yet, he hesitates to voice these sentiments, aware of the weight they carry. It pains him to witness your despondency, your yearning for the solace of a home—a comfort he believes he could offer, if only you desired it. Eventually, you concede to mull over the prospect of returning, a small glimmer of hope that lifts his spirits.

He’s reluctant for the day to draw to a close, even after both of you have polished off your cakes. So, he proposes a shopping excursion, and as you amble down the bustling street, he revels in the simple joy of your company. Witnessing you try on various dresses fills him with delight, but it’s the moment you find one that makes you radiate with confidence that truly captivates him. As you stand before the mirror, the dress hugging your curves in all the right places, he’s struck by the desire to gift it to you. Your surprised reaction to his offer, accompanied by a blush that tinges your cheeks, only serves to further enchant him.

As you return to your apartment and settle in to order food, Jimin realizes he’s extending his stay beyond his initial intentions. He’s wary of overstaying his welcome, yet he finds himself relishing every moment spent in your presence. Together, you indulge in a satisfying meal, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. With appetites sated, you delve into a conversation that spans the years since you departed from the ranch. Each shared anecdote and exchanged experience bridges the gap of time, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and newfound connection.

As he opens up to you, Jimin shares the tumultuous story of his family, particularly focusing on his father’s betrayal and subsequent remarriage shortly after his mother's passing. Recounting these painful memories is a struggle for him, as he harbors deep-seated resentment, especially towards his father for his infidelity. To Jimin, loyalty is paramount, and the thought of betraying a loved one is unfathomable. He reflects on the challenging dynamic with Jungkook, his stepbrother thrust into his life against his wishes. Initially resistant to the idea of a new sibling, Jimin grappled with conflicting emotions, navigating the complexities of familial relationships with grit and resilience.

He notices your curious gaze, fixated on the subtle limp in his stride, a constant reminder of a past he’d rather forget. Jimin understands the unspoken question lingering in your eyes, the same one that everyone seems eager to ask about. It’s a topic he loathes discussing—the limp, the accident, and the haunting scar etched into his flesh. Yet, he opens up to you, albeit selectively, glossing over certain details. He shields you from the raw emotions that still cling to the memories, like the overwhelming fear that consumed him in the aftermath, or the excruciating pain that once threatened to steal his mobility forever. Despite the physical healing, the pain persists, a relentless echo of the trauma that reshaped his life.

As if drawn by an invisible force, your hand ventures to his thigh, your touch igniting a cascade of sensations that electrify his senses. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through him, coaxing his heart into a frantic rhythm matched only by the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. His body responds eagerly to your touch, craving more, yearning for the warmth of your hand in places where desire simmers just beneath the surface. Jimin knows he shouldn’t entertain these forbidden thoughts, but the allure of your touch is intoxicating, tempting him into a realm of pleasure he’s desperate to explore. With each passing moment, your hand inches closer to his dick, and he's powerless to resist the magnetic pull drawing him toward the world of lust.

“Is this okay?” Your gentle inquiry sends a surge of electricity through the air, and Jimin feels a wave of apprehension wash over him. He’s caught between the desire to surrender to the intoxicating allure of your touch and the fear of crossing a line he might not be able to uncross. Yet, despite the tumult of emotions raging within him, he manages to croak out a strained “yes,” his voice betraying the depth of his longing and the intensity of his arousal.

God damn it, he curses inwardly as a surge of desire courses through him, causing his body to react involuntarily. He shifts uncomfortably, prompting your hand to retreat apologetically as you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

He reassures you with a strained “it’s okay,” but inside, he’s reeling from the lingering sensation of your touch. Your hands had worked wonders, but it’s not just the massage that’s setting him alight; it’s the mere contact with you, igniting a dangerous blaze of desire within him.

He’s acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you, a palpable tension that threatens to unravel with every passing moment. Seeking respite, you suggest watching a movie, and he agrees, grateful for the distraction. As the film unfolds, he finds himself more captivated by the way your eyelids flutter and eventually succumb to sleep, your head gently resting against his chest. With tender care, he brushes away the stray strands of hair that caress your face, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you in such peaceful repose. He realizes, in that moment, the depth of his feelings for you—love, pure and unadulterated. Yet, the weight of uncertainty presses upon him like a heavy burden. Should he confess his love, risking the fragile bond of friendship that now exists between you both? Or should he continue to cherish these stolen moments, content in the knowledge that you’re by his side, even if only as friends?

“I love you,” he murmurs softly, the words slipping from his lips like a secret confession, a whispered promise to the sleeping form nestled against him. In the hushed stillness of the room, he finds solace in the act of vocalizing his feelings, the weight of his emotions easing with each syllable uttered. Though he knows you’re unaware of his declaration in your slumber, he takes comfort in the notion that the words hang in the air, a silent testament to the depth of his affection for you. Yet, as the echoes of his confession fade into the night, he realizes that his journey towards vocalizing his love has only just begun—a journey he’s determined to embark upon, armed with nothing but his unwavering devotion and the courage to speak his heart when you’re awake, ready to hear his words.

He hadn’t intended on staying the night, but your gentle slumber on his lap had rooted him in place. He couldn’t stand to disrupt your peaceful rest, and truth be told, he relished the sensation of your weight against him. He couldn’t recall when your head had found its way to his thighs, but the warmth of your presence was a comfort he couldn’t deny. However, the unwelcome arousal pressing against his jeans was a stark reminder of his body’s betraying response to your innocent proximity. Your soft murmurs and endearing sighs had stirred something primal within him, leaving him unable to conceal the undeniable evidence of his desire.

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, scrambling to sit upright, cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. He can't help but chuckle at your flustered reaction, finding your genuine concern endearing.

“It’s okay. I just woke up,” he assures, though it’s not entirely true. He’s been awake for a few moments, captivated by the peaceful sight of you sleeping. Is it a bit creepy? Maybe. But at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You end up apologizing profusely for inadvertently resting on his injured leg, but he reassures you, insisting it didn’t hurt much. Suddenly, you offer to whip up some pancakes, and the idea sounds heavenly to him. He realizes how hungry he is, so the prospect of food is more than welcome.

He realizes he should head back home soon. Yesterday, he left without a word to his brother, and he certainly didn’t mention staying the night elsewhere. Jungkook might be in a panic by now, given the flurry of missed calls on his phone. Oops.

The pancakes you’ve whipped up are simply divine, and for a fleeting moment, he entertains the idea of staying here with you indefinitely. But reality pulls him back to the ranch, his responsibilities tugging at his heartstrings. Deep down, he yearns for you to join him there, to make the place feel complete once more. Yet, he knows he can’t impose such a request on you. Your decision to return must stem from your own desires. As the time draws near for his departure, he lingers a bit longer, subtly conveying how much he’ll miss you if you choose not to come back.

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers on you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. In that suspended moment, he senses a subtle transformation within you, a shift in the air that ignites a blush on your cheeks. And in that shared vulnerability, he feels his own heart quicken its pace, a silent testament to the magnetic pull you exert on him with each passing moment.

As you remain silent, he gathers his courage, emboldened by the delicate flush on your cheeks. Closing the gap between you, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. A playful grin tugs at his lips, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest; he can feel the warmth rising to his cheeks, but he couldn’t resist the urge to express his longing in that fleeting touch.

“See you at home,” he whispers, the words carrying a weight of anticipation as he descends the stairs. His heart thunders in his chest, a symphony of excitement and nerves that threaten to overwhelm him. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, a wide grin splits his face, a telltale sign of the emotions bubbling within him. In that moment, he feels like a fool — a foolish, lovesick fool.

You’ve returned, and it’s like a missing piece of his world has finally clicked back into place. Since his visit to the city, everything between you seems to hum with a new energy, a subtle shift that he can’t ignore. The air crackles with anticipation, and he can’t help but notice the lingering glances, the charged moments that pass between you. He senses the attraction growing, weaving its way between you like a delicate thread. Maybe it’s time to take the next step, to ask you out on a proper date. But first, there’s the matter of moving your belongings from the city back to the ranch, a task he embraces eagerly, knowing it’s a chance to be by your side once more.

He chuckles at the sight of neatly packed boxes, already lined up and ready to go. He had braced himself for a lengthy packing session, but you’ve surprised him with your efficiency. With everything neatly organized, the task ahead seems much simpler. Now, all that’s left is to lift and load the boxes onto the truck and trailer, and you’ll be ready to roll.

Despite the weight of the boxes and the growing ache in his leg, he soldiers on without complaint. He refuses to let you see the strain he’s under, determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for you. Together, you lift and carry furniture, ensuring that nothing is left behind. Finally, you slide the key into the landlord’s mailbox, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new chapter.

As you navigate the road back home, he catches your gaze drifting to his leg, a subtle twitch betraying the discomfort he’s trying to conceal. Despite his efforts to mask the pain, he can tell you’ve seen through his facade.

“Does your leg hurt?” Your concern is palpable in the gentle tone of your voice. He hesitates, debating whether to offer a reassuring lie or admit to the discomfort gnawing at him. Ultimately, honesty wins out. “Yeah, a bit,” he confesses, unable to shield you from the truth.

Your hand ventures across the center console, landing on his thigh with a gentle, reassuring pressure that sends a jolt through him. As your fingers begin to work their magic, tracing soothing circles over his tense muscles, he feels his defenses weakening. Like an inferno ignited, desire surges within him, rendering him powerless to resist. A soft moan slips past his lips, betraying the overwhelming effect of your touch, and he knows he’s in trouble, especially while navigating the road ahead.

His mind is a whirlwind of forbidden desires, each touch of your hand stoking the flames of his longing. With every inch your hand inches closer, his body responds eagerly, aching for your touch. Yet, amidst the overwhelming urge, a voice of reason echoes in his mind, reminding him of the danger of indulging in such desires while driving. Despite the throbbing need coursing through him, he fights to suppress his carnal urges, knowing that some pleasures are too risky to pursue in the heat of the moment.

“Please stop,” his voice, a blend of desire and restraint, breaks the tension-filled silence, pleading for respite from the intoxicating allure of your touch. As your hand halts its tantalizing caress on his thigh, a palpable tension hangs in the air, his body yearning for the forbidden pleasure yet tempered by the awareness of the dangers lurking on the road ahead.

“I might lose focus on the road if you keep that up,” he confesses, his tone laced with a blend of restraint and longing, revealing the precarious balance between desire and responsibility. With each passing moment, the tantalizing temptation grows stronger, stirring a primal urge within him. For a fleeting instant, he entertains the reckless notion of pulling over, and just fucking you, like he really wants to do.

Jimin is rendered speechless as you glide through the doors, clad in the dress he picked out for you. The sight of you steals his breath away, igniting a fire within him that he struggles to contain. Your radiant smile lights up the room, and as your eyes meet his, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in an electric moment.

You take in the surroundings of the house, every detail seemingly more enchanting with Jimin by your side. As he gracefully pulls you into a slow dance, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless embrace. The warmth of his hand in yours and the genuine smile on your face envelop him in a sense of serenity, and for a moment, he’s lost in the beauty of the moment, captivated by the sight of you.

You sway together in the gentle rhythm of the music, but beneath the surface, a tempest of emotions rages within Jimin. With every step, he feels the magnetic pull towards you intensify, igniting a wildfire of desire that threatens to consume him whole. The urge to whisk you away upstairs, to pour out his heart, to share every secret and desire, is almost overpowering. Yet, in the midst of this intoxicating whirlwind, fear gnaws at him. This unbridled attraction, so fierce and undeniable, terrifies him in its intensity, for it’s unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and it’s already reshaping the very fabric of his emotions.

As his brother, Jungkook, sweeps in to ask you for a dance, Jimin’s eyes roll with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance. Reluctantly, he steps aside, letting you be whisked away into the arms of his sibling, though a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest. As you twirl away with Jungkook, Jimin can’t help but feel a pang of insecurity, wondering if he’s made a mistake by relinquishing your presence, even if only for a dance.

Meanwhile, Jimin gracefully makes his way to the piano, a glint of determination in his eyes. He settles onto the bench, his fingers poised over the keys with a mixture of nerves and excitement. With a soft, thoughtful expression, he adjusts the volume of the music, letting the melody fill the room with a gentle ambiance. As he begins to play, his heart pours into the music, each note resonating with a depth of emotion that only he can truly understand. With a voice rich with sincerity, he sings a love song, his eyes flickering over to where you stand, hoping that you’ll appreciate the gesture.

In the midst of the music, Jimin wrestles with his own conflicting emotions. He knows he should muster the courage to express his feelings directly to you, to tell you that he’s head over heels in love. Yet, fear grips him, the fear of rejection, of vulnerability. Despite the undeniable connection he feels between you, he hesitates, unsure of how you’ll respond.

Instead, he lets the melody speak for him, allowing the heartfelt lyrics to convey the depth of his affection. With each tender note, he silently hopes that you’ll understand the message hidden within the music, the silent plea for your reciprocation.

Your expression betrays a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Jimin finishes his serenade. Without a word, he rises from the piano bench, his hand outstretched towards you, a silent invitation in his gaze. “Please, come with me,” he implores softly, his voice laced with an urgency that belies the calm exterior he tries to maintain. With a gentle yet firm grasp, he leads you towards the door, a sense of purpose driving his movements.

As he leads you outside, Jimin can feel the weight of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. This could be the moment, he thinks, the moment he finally lays his heart bare before you. Or maybe he should start with something simpler, like asking you out on a date. But with every step that brings you closer to the secluded spot he has in mind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him uncertain of where to begin.

Now, with the night sky stretching out above you and the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows across your face, he finds himself unable to resist the pull of desire. With a sudden surge of courage, he pins you against the wall, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

His mind races like a speeding train, thoughts colliding and scattering in all directions, leaving him grasping for a coherent sentence. “Brothers talk,” he blurts out, cursing himself inwardly the instant the words leave his lips. Jungkook’s words about you after that night echo in his mind, a bitter reminder of a conversation he never wanted to have— he didn’t like hearing his brother talk about you like that. He wishes desperately to erase those words from his memory, to banish them to the darkest corners of his mind, but they linger like a stubborn stain, impossible to scrub away.

“I know you slept with Jungkook,” he murmurs into your ear, feeling the slight tremor that runs through your body. The tension crackles between you, a silent dialogue of unspoken words and hidden desires. He prays silently that you don’t harbor any strange fascination with brothers, because if you do, you’re in for disappointment. That’s not his thing.

“And I don’t mind. I like you,” he confesses, his words tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. Despite the discomfort of knowing about your past with his brother, he’s willing to look beyond it because his feelings for you outweigh any resentment. The image of you being reduced to a mere conquest by Jungkook leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he’s determined to move past it for the sake of what he feels for you.

“I like you too, Jimin,” you confess, and the weight of those words sends a surge of excitement through him. Finally, the confirmation he’s been yearning for, the green light to express what’s been building inside him for weeks. As he leans in to kiss you, anticipation electrifying the air, the door beside you swings open, and out steps his brother, wearing that infuriating grin. Damn it, Jungkook always manages to ruin the moment, the ultimate cock blocker.

You’ve been putting in long hours at the ranch alongside Yoongi, and he’s observed how effortlessly you’ve adapted to the work. He doesn’t mind the time you spend with Yoongi; after all, cultivating friendships here is important, and he’s glad to see you forming bonds in your new environment.

As he makes his way over to where you’re taming the wild horses, Jimin feels a surge of confidence coursing through him. Today feels like the right moment to finally muster the courage and ask you out on that long-awaited date.

He approaches, anticipation bubbling within him, but Jimin’s heart sinks like a stone at the sight before him. His steps falter as he witnesses your lips meeting Yoongi’s in an unexpected embrace. Shock and hurt intertwine within him, shattering the fragile hope he held of something blossoming between you both. It’s a painful echo of the moment he caught you with his brother, a wound reopened. With a heavy heart, he silently retreats, the weight of disappointment pulling him away.

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Jimin did notice the shock etched on your features. But confusion battles with hurt within him, a tumultuous storm raging in his heart. Was it betrayal he saw in your eyes? Or was it simply his own shattered illusions playing tricks on him? The thought gnaws at him—had you been toying with his feelings all along?

The memory of you with his brother burns like a brand, leaving him grappling with a cocktail of emotions, unable to discern truth from illusion.

You fucked his brother, maybe you want to fuck Yoongi too?

Though he hears your hurried footsteps behind him, he refuses to turn back, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Anger simmers within him, intertwined with a thread of sorrow, a tumult of emotions threatening to consume him. Frustration gnaws at him — frustration at you, frustration at himself for allowing himself to fall under your spell. For he realizes now, with painful clarity, that you hold the power to shatter his heart. And he can’t take the thought of enduring such agony. It’s a bitter realization, but he knows he must protect himself. It’s better to walk away now, before the pain deepens any further.

“Jimin!” Your voice echoes urgently behind him, but he’s already near the door, his resolve hardening with each step. Maybe he can simply shut you out, ignore whatever explanation you might offer. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility of hearing you out, even as you grasp his arm, pleading, “Jimin, it’s not what it seems—I need to explain!”

He doesn’t want to hear it. There’s a strange ringing in his ears, drowning out your words. It’s as if his mind is adrift in a sea of chaos, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Anger simmers beneath the surface, a volatile brew threatening to boil over. With a clenched jaw, he turns to face you. “You kissed Yoongi.” The words cut through the deafening silence like a knife, sharp and accusatory.

“No, I didn’t! He kissed me, and I didn’t want that. It meant nothing, okay?” Your words pierce through the heavy silence, but he’s not sure if he wants to believe them. He’s built a fortress around his heart, shielding it from any more pain. Watching you with his brother was hard enough, and now this? It’s not just the kiss itself that bothers him; it’s the unsettling feeling that you might be interested in anyone but him.

Since that kiss with Yoongi, he’s been nursing a hurt that gnaws at him relentlessly. Though he’s avoided speaking to you, he’s watched from a distance. Your once vibrant spirit now wears a cloak of sadness, but in Yoongi’s presence, you light up. It’s a comfort to see you finding solace, yet a pang of envy grips him. Watching you two together twists something deep inside him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Amidst the ache in his heart, he’s found himself seeking solace in familiar connections, even replying to texts from his former physiotherapist, Deiji.

Despite the gnawing guilt, he finds himself unable to bridge the growing chasm between you. The pain of witnessing your closeness with Yoongi ignites a jealousy that eclipses all rational thought. It’s not just about liking or loving you anymore; it’s about the exhausting cycle of feeling perpetually overlooked. He’s tired of being picked last.

Maybe that’s why he extended the invitation to Deiji, fully aware that you and Yoongi would be there. In his mind, it’s a feeble attempt to feign indifference, a facade of moving on. He’s well aware of the pettiness of his actions, yet he’s powerless against the torrent of bitterness coursing through his veins.

He catches the glimmer of sadness in your eyes as they meet his across the bar, and a pang of unease twists in his stomach, a blend of hurt and confusion. He’s at a loss to comprehend why your gaze holds such sorrow when you’re evidently entwined with Yoongi. The sight of him enveloping you, a shield against the world, ignites a storm of resentment in Jimin’s gut.

Despite being officially with Deiji, a decision he’s uncertain about and made more out of a sense of emptiness than genuine interest, Jimin finds himself questioning his own actions. He doesn’t understand why he acquiesced when she asked to make things official; maybe it was the notion that having someone, anyone, was better than facing the void alone. But the truth is, he doesn’t harbor strong feelings for Deiji. Aware of the wrongness of the situation, Jimin feels a gnawing guilt deep within him, a sense of moral turmoil that he can’t shake off.

And with every stolen glance in your direction, a reminder of his divided attention, he's torn between appeasing Deiji and grappling with the realization of what he truly desires.

Each day, you faithfully show up for work, your presence a constant in the familiar routine of taming the wild horses alongside Yoongi. Yet, with every shared moment you spend with him, Jimin can’t help but feel a surge of spite and jealousy coursing through him. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, the sight of you engrossed in your tasks, your laughter echoing in the stables, stirs up a tempest of conflicting emotions within him. It’s true, you appear happy, your smiles lighting up the barn, but beneath the surface, Jimin senses a lingering sadness, a hidden ache that eludes his understanding.

Even amidst the swirling chaos of his emotions, Jimin finds himself unable to muster the courage to speak to you. The turmoil within him is relentless, leaving him uncertain if he even wants to engage in conversation with you anymore. His feelings are a tangled web of confusion, rendering him utterly lost within himself. It’s as if he’s been thrown into a storm of his own making, unable to find solid ground amidst the tempest of his conflicted heart.

Even his own brother, in a rare moment of clarity, has acknowledged the messiness of the situation and urged him to confront it. Yet, Jimin finds himself grappling with the futility of such a conversation. What words could possibly bridge the chasm between you when you’re with Yoongi and he’s with Deiji? It’s a tangled web of relationships, each strand pulling them further apart with every passing moment.

Recently, Jimin has found himself consumed by jealousy, a venomous emotion that twists his thoughts and clouds his every interaction. He’s engulfed by an unrelenting anger — directed at you, at himself, at the cruel hand fate has dealt. Walking about with a perpetual scowl, he broods in silence, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of longing and resentment. Forced to collaborate with you by Jungkook, he remains mute, the weight of unspoken words suffocating him. Jimin, once eager to engage, now fears the irreparable chasm that has formed between you, the inevitable drift driving a wedge deeper with each passing day.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, your sister insists on throwing a party to mark the cast coming off. This entails a dinner, an event Jimin dreads. The thought of facing you, knowing Yoongi will also be present, fills him with apprehension. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, since he’s exchanged a word with either of you, and the prospect of reconnecting amidst the festivity feels daunting.

He’s been avoiding you for what feels like forever, yet here he is, standing in your house with his girlfriend, desperately trying to hide the turmoil churning inside him. It’s not a physical demise, he knows he’s being overly dramatic, but the emotional anguish feels suffocating, overwhelming every inch of his being.

He stands there, silently seething as he watches Yoongi envelope you in his arms, whispering about how much he’s missed you. Anger courses through him like a torrent, mixing with a bitter taste of something unpalatable, leaving him with a nauseating sensation, as if he could vomit at any moment.

He averts his gaze, sensing the sudden fury emanating from you, though the reason eludes him. Desperately, he attempts to divert his attention to Deiji, but it’s futile; he can’t shake the feeling of longing for you, despite the turmoil raging within him. Every glance towards you is a reminder of the pain of seeing you with Yoongi, of his own inadequacy to confront or resolve the situation. He feels trapped in a cycle of longing and self-loathing, unable to break free from the grip of his own childishness.

You glide into the charity gala, a vision of elegance and grace that steals his breath away. He shouldn’t be captivated by you, shouldn’t be allowing his gaze to linger when he should be focusing on his date. Yet, Deiji’s waning interest in him is palpable, a silent testament to the growing chasm between them. He knows their relationship is crumbling, and he can’t blame her for growing weary of his constant pining for someone else. The truth is, he was never truly invested in Deiji; she was merely a placeholder, a feeble attempt to fill the void left by your unattainability. Now, as he watches you from across the room, radiant and out of reach, he realizes the magnitude of his mistake.

Despite dancing with his girlfriend, his eyes are drawn irresistibly to you, tracing every step you take as you glide across the dance floor with Hoseok, then Yoongi. Each moment is like a dagger to his heart, yet he can’t tear his gaze away. It’s masochistic, really, subjecting himself to the exquisite agony of watching you in Yoongi’s embrace, but he’s transfixed, unable to look away.

Without warning, your expression morphs into one of raw anger, fury emanating from every pore as you stride purposefully towards him. Your voice, sharp and cutting, pierces through the music as you demand, “Why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Startled and taken aback, his heart skips a beat as your sudden outburst catches him off guard. Beneath the surprise, a tinge of sadness tugs at his heartstrings. He realizes he shouldn’t be so transfixed on you, yet despite his best efforts, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.

“Shouldn’t your eyes be on your girlfriend, huh? Why the fuck do you keep gazing at me? Look at your damn girlfriend!” Your words cut through him like a knife, and the accusation stings. He feels a knot of sadness twist in his stomach, grappling with confusion as to why you've suddenly turned hostile.

“And while you’re at it, why the fuck can’t you talk to me like a normal human being?” Your voice crescendos, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. Jimin feels a pang of shame, wanting to shrink away from your justified anger. You’re hitting too close to home—he knows he should have approached you like a mature adult.

“You’re a damn coward, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be casting your eyes my way when you have a girlfriend right there!” You jab a finger in Deiji’s direction, her displeasure evident, but Jimin can’t muster any concern for her feelings. His heart thuds erratically, a tumult of emotions swirling inside him, each one adding to the chaos. He knows you’re right, and it cuts him deeper than he’d like to admit—yeah, he’s a coward.

“You fucking jerk. If you had the decency to communicate, to use your damn voice instead of making baseless assumptions, we wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation!” You unleash your frustration at him, each word a sharp jab, and he flinches involuntarily. Deep down, he knows you’re right, but the weight of the misunderstanding presses heavily on his shoulders. He just doesn’t understand the situation. Yoongi steps in beside you, attempting to diffuse the tension, but Jimin feels his heart plummet to the floor nonetheless.

“I fucking hate you! You’re stupid. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I love you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” You unleash a torrent of emotions, your words cutting through the air like knives, and his eyes widen in shock. His heart races erratically, his confusion mirroring yours. Why would you confess your love for him while Yoongi stands right beside you? It’s madness, and he feels like he’s drowning in a sea of uncertainty and conflicting emotions.

“You fucking bastard. Stop looking at me like that,” you spit out, catching him off guard once more. Despite the tension, he can’t help but burst into laughter. It’s wrong, he knows, but there’s something absurdly amusing about the situation. As you glare at him, he can’t shake the thought that you look oddly cute when you’re angry.

“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny!” You stamp on the ground, your frustration palpable. Jimin feels a surge of conflicting emotions, his laughter fading as he clings to the weight of your confession. What does this mean? He longs to ask you why you’re unloading on him, but you refuse to let him get a word in edgewise.

“I don’t want to hear it! You know what? I’m done!” With a sharp spin, you pivot away, leaving Jimin in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate to understand your sudden eruption, he reaches out, his hand grasping for an explanation amidst the chaos.

“You can stick your dick where the sun doesn’t shine!” With fire in your eyes, you unleash the words directly into his face before storming out, leaving Jimin to face the fallout of your wrath. As the tension thickens in the air, all eyes turn to him, conveying their disapproval like daggers. Even Jimin finds himself grappling with the weight of his actions, acutely aware of the discord he’s sown.

Yoongi strides up to him, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You know you’re a real dick right?”

Jimin’s jaw drops, the shock of Yoongi’s words reverberating through him like a sudden bolt of lightning. Never before has he witnessed this side of Yoongi, and the revelation leaves him utterly stunned, his mind reeling with disbelief.

“Why don’t you scuttle off to your precious girlfriend?” Jimin’s words slice through the air like venom, his anger bubbling to the surface with an intensity that threatens to consume him entirely.

Yoongi scoffs incredulously, “Girlfriend?” His steps carry him closer to Jimin, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You really think she’s my girlfriend, huh? Is that what’s been fueling your jerkish behavior?”

Jimin’s lips part, ready to offer a retort, but before he can utter a word, Yoongi closes the distance between them until their breaths mingle in the charged air. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he declares, his voice low and tinged with frustration, “I’m gay, you fucking idiot.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in disbelief as Yoongi’s words hang heavy in the air. Then, as Yoongi exits, a whirlwind of emotions sweeps through Jimin’s being, leaving him teetering between confusion and a surge of unexpected elation.

But hold on, that means that all this while he thought you were together with Yoongi, you were in fact mad at him?

Fuck.

Deiji ended things with him, and he can’t blame her. He realizes now that he wasn’t truly invested in her or the relationship. In hindsight, it’s clear that it was the right decision for both of them.

He’s made an absolute mess of things, and now he’s left with the daunting task of picking up the shattered pieces and piecing them back together again.

He realizes the first step towards redemption is owning up to his missteps and extending genuine apologies for the havoc his actions have caused.

Your expression betrays confusion when he offers to aid in the search for Mikrokosmos, yet deep down, he yearns for the chance to finally unravel the tangled threads of misunderstanding between you. He carries the weight of knowing he should have initiated this conversation long before, but he’s here now, determined to mend what’s broken and bridge the chasm that’s formed between you.

He’s overwhelmed with gratitude as you lend him your ear, and when you extend an apology for your own actions—a gesture he feels unworthy of—he’s humbled. He recognizes he was the one in the wrong, and while he does offer his apologies, he feels they fall short of expressing the depth of his remorse. He struggles to find the words to convey just how profoundly sorry he is. In your presence, he’s painfully aware of his own shortcomings, yet he’s also grateful for the stark contrast of your unwavering kindness, a stark reminder of the person he aspires to be.

As you tenderly trace the lines of his scars with reverence, he feels something inside him fracture, but it’s not pain—it’s the barriers he’s built around his heart, crumbling in the face of your genuine affection. Never before has anyone shown such care and admiration for him in this intimate way. In that moment, his heart swells with a love so profound it threatens to overflow. In your presence, he finds a sense of completeness he’s never known before. Truly, you are the embodiment of sweetness and kindness, and he’s endlessly grateful to have you in his life.

He’s acutely aware that you deserve far better than him. In your unwavering sweetness and kindness, you shine as a beacon of light in his tumultuous world. Despite the countless times he’s put you through turmoil, you continue to stand by his side, unwavering in your commitment. A part of him struggles to comprehend why someone as remarkable as you would choose to be with someone as flawed as him. He can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve a woman of your caliber.

As the blissful days turn into months and the connection between you deepens, it feels as though you’ve been together for a lifetime. It’s this profound sense of certainty that drives him to purchase a ring for you, a symbol of his unwavering devotion. From the depths of his childhood dreams, he’s always known, without a shadow of doubt, that you were the one meant for him.

Fucking hell.

Just when everything seems to be falling into place, Deiji unexpectedly resurfaces, bearing news that shatters the delicate balance of his newfound happiness—she’s pregnant. The weight of her revelation hits him like a ton of bricks, threatening to unravel the life he’s worked so hard to build. While she insists the child is his, he’s consumed by doubt, unable to find any concrete evidence to support her claim. Yet, in the midst of his turmoil, his gaze is drawn to you, and the anguish etched on your face speaks volumes. Despite the chaos swirling around him, he can’t ignore the palpable pain this situation is causing you.

He longs for the prospect of fatherhood, but the thought of having children with Deiji is a nightmare he can’t stand to entertain. If he were to embark on the journey of parenthood, he envisions it with you by his side. Yet, he’s keenly aware of your own hesitations or maybe lack of desire for children, and he deeply respects your stance on the matter.

Damn, this just became a whole lot more complicated. But amidst the chaos, his resolve remains unwavering—he’s determined to be present for his child, and for you, no matter what. With every update Deiji shares, whether it’s pictures or ultrasounds of the baby, he makes a conscious effort to include you, recognizing the importance of keeping you informed and involved every step of the way.

However, he can’t help but notice the growing distance between you, and it’s a pain that cuts him to the core. The dilemma gnaws at him relentlessly—he’s torn between wanting to cherish both you and his impending child, yet he’s at a loss as to how to navigate the chasm that’s formed between you.

“I really think it’s best to break up,” you repeat, and he’s gripped by a suffocating sense of disbelief, as if trapped in a nightmare he desperately wishes to escape. How can you say this? The love he feels for you surges through him like a relentless tide, and the mere thought of breaking up is unbearable. Doesn’t your heart ache at the idea of leaving? Doesn’t love still reside within you?

“But I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he pleads with a raw desperation, his heart laid bare before you. Every fiber of his being is consumed by love for you. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel the weight of his devotion?

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either. But as much as it pains me, I can’t go on like this. I need to break up,” your voice cracks, and his heart shatters into a million fragments. Both of you are unwilling to part ways, yet he's come to recognize the toll his situation with his child has taken on you, maybe far more than he initially comprehended. Ultimately, he realizes he can't compel you to remain by his side, even as the agony of separation tears him apart.

“If that’s truly what you want,” he says, his voice strained with emotion as he struggles to form the words, “then I... I understand.” Each syllable feels like a weight upon his chest, threatening to suffocate him as he resigns himself to the heartbreaking reality of your decision.

“It is,” you confirm with a heavy finality, and in that moment, his heart shatters into a million irreparable fragments, scattered across the floor like the remnants of a shattered dream as you walk away.

Ever since you broke up, a sickness gnaws at him, but he desperately clings to the impending arrival of his child as a beacon of hope. Yet, intertwined with the anticipation is a bitter realization—he’s lost you, and it leaves a repugnant taste lingering in his mouth. He never wanted to be forced into a choice, yet it seems he inadvertently prioritized his impending fatherhood over you, a decision that fills him with self-loathing. Deep down, all he truly yearns for is to be by your side once more.

Every time his gaze falls upon you, your face is etched with profound sadness, and he’s torn between offering you the solace of space or the comfort of his presence. Though you still exchange words sporadically, the connection you once shared feels like a distant memory, a mere echo of what once was.

The ache of missing you consumes him, a relentless longing that claws at his heart. He yearns for nothing more than to be reunited with you, to reclaim the bond you once shared. But the weight of the situation crushes him under its unbearable pressure. Should he forsake his child for the chance to have you back? The mere thought is agonizing, a cruel dilemma tearing him apart at the seams. He’s trapped in a labyrinth of pain, unable to discern a way out of the turmoil engulfing him.

Fuck.

Reflecting on the myriad mistakes he’s made sends a searing pain coursing through his heart, each misstep a haunting reminder of the turmoil he’s inflicted upon you. The weight of his transgressions feels crushing, almost unbearable, yet amidst the wreckage of his past, one truth remains steadfast—you loved him, despite it all. Maybe you still do, but the uncertainty gnaws at him like a relentless beast. Yet, in the depths of his remorse, his love for you burns bright and unwavering. He’s determined to find a way to convey his unwavering desire to win back your love, to fight for the chance to make things right and rebuild what was once lost.

That’s precisely why tears cascade down onto the paper as he pours his heart out in the letter destined for you.

→ Requested series taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @fancypeacepersona, @ktownshizzle, @pjmxxjm, @ajoonniice, @kookiewithluv, @mikrokookiex, @rapmonjoon94, @parkitrighthere,

→ Author’s endnote: Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

#jimin x reader #pjm x reader #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #pjm smut #pjm fic #pjm fanfic #pjm x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin smut #park jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bangtan smut #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfic #series: my heart's home

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calsvoid · 1 year ago

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writing meme: about me

i got tagged by @lusthurts so thank you for that <3

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

ive been into writing for years before i got into fanfiction specifically so i guess just from reading fanfiction i guess, but if you want a longer story, i got more interested in writing from roleplaying on amino and got into fanfiction because the fandom i was in at the time got OBSESSED with this one popular work and i just HAD to check it out

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

officially, my ao3 account only has glee works rn but i do have a 911 fic im working on and i do want to venture into more fandoms, but i don’t really have the confidence to do so yet

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

i’ve been trying since 2020 to be more of a fanfic writer but never actually got anything solid until 2023 so 1-4 years depending on how you see it

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

definitely read im a slowass writer and part of that is because im too busy reading fanfiction instead of writing

5. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

overall in the years i’ve been a writer, i feel like i’m better at portraying characters as well rounded and creating characters that aren’t just one stereotype. when it comes to my time as a fanfic writer, im better at writing actual scenes rather than just random narration

6. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

the probability of survival when falling from certain heights. also ohio the glee writers were cruel for making their show based in fucking ohio of all places

7. What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

i’m honestly not picky i love all types of comments, but if i really had to choose, it’d probably be any that point out a specific part or line or whatever in my writing. it makes me so happy when people have some detail stick with them

8. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

i honestly haven’t done anything too intense in my writing i think the most out there i’ve gotten is just emotional infidelity and that’s just standard for seblaine. i do plan on killing blaine in one wip of mine, but it’s just an idea for now because i’ve got other shit to focus on

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

longer stories are literally impossible for me. i absolutely SUCK at writing anything longer than a couple thousand words and even that is hard for me. smut is also hard but that’s because i haven’t bothered to write smut, so different vibes

10. What is the easiest type?

well if you see how many hurt no comfort fics i’ve published it’s obvious fluff is what i’m best at. but yeah short vignette angsty stories are super easy for me to write. it’s just 50% projection and 50% exaggeration and 100% gay, so no problem there

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

i often write at home, on my notes app, at any point of the day, and i post all my stuff on ao3. i will sometimes edit on my laptop on google docs, but i get lazy too and so my latest fics have been mostly raw and unedited.

12. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

smut and literally any ship that isn’t seblaine and also longer works. i’d love to be one of those writers who comes out with these multi chapter masterpieces but i’m just not right now. i’ve had ideas for other ships too, but i never really flesh them out because they’re usually stuff that would span across thousands of words and i don’t have the time, energy, nor skill level to do that yet. and again, for smut, i just never bother, and while i think im never going to be the explicit sex scenes type of writer, i love the angst potential of it

13. What made you choose your username?

acedisgrace is a name i’m like 85% sure i saw a joke about from a stolen tumblr post on instagram and i was like hey im asexual and a disappointment haha what if i change my discord name to that and then eventually when i got an ao3 account, i just went with it because i saw it was available there too. as for calsvoid, they’re my initials and i spew whatever bullshit i want on tumblr and also i wish i didn’t have a body and instead was an amorphous blob of nothingness

i don’t really know who to tag that i haven’t already seen tag so anyone who would like to do this can

#tag games

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letstalkwhump · 2 years ago

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Let's Talk Whump

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! This is Izzy and Malice and we’ll be your hosts today.

Here with us today is the one and only @whumpsday!

Let’s start with a fact or two about yourself!

My name is Mill and I’m 26! Aside from the whump hobbies of writing and roleplaying, I also play TTRPGs. (My favorites are everything in the Awaken Realms catalogue: Etherfields and Tainted Grail, and I’ll start ISS Vanguard after I finish the Etherfields expansions. Gonna start Vampire the Masquerade soon too.) I haven’t played any roleplay-based TTRPGs like D&D yet, but I’d love to someday. My favorite color is red and my favorite animal is the cat.

That’s sweet as! What does whump mean to you?

Creative content involving characters’ pain would probably be the broadest definition that still includes everything. I consider it a subgenre of horror, with the added bonus of often showing the gritty recovery from the trauma.

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

I originally found whump fiction on AO3 while browsing G/t content (Giant/tiny, content for characters with size differences, such as one being 4 inches tall. It’s the other niche art/writing community I’m in.) That led me to tumblr, and here I am! I’d always enjoyed whump-type content as far as I can remember. I lurked for a couple of years before finally making an account and joining because I was eager to share the stories of my daydream characters.

Do you think the way you view whump has changed since joining the community here?

It hasn’t changed much! Always been an OC writer and still am. But I’ve only been here for a year and a half.

Now the important questions: what is your favourite whump trope?

My favorite whump trope is probably an immortal whumpee. With a human, you’re bound by the constraints of a human body. People die if you torture them too much. But if your whumpee is immortal, that goes away and the possibilities are limitless. Bonus if they’re a generally-despised species like a vampire or demon.

Immortal whumpee are so good! Endless possibilities equals endless whump! Would you like to share some of your writing with us?

My main series, Kane & Jim, is undoubtedly my favorite. I never thought I could be a writer, and I’m proud of myself for writing 50 chapters of that and counting. Within that, my favorite piece is either Hunger (#15) or Papercut (#17). Link: https://whumpsday.tumblr.com/post/709301997070909440/kane-jim-masterlist-writing-order-click

Love the authors notes on Papercut #17! What's your writing style like?

I generally write in the late night (anytime from 11pm to 4am) in big blocks. I do not eat or listen to music, and have a water bottle nearby. I used to write very regularly but have since fallen off, and have just recently gotten back on track.

Is there an easy thing for you to write, something the words usually flow for? Is there something you struggle with writing?

I always find it easier to write single-scene chapters with no cuts. I find it more difficult to write things spanning long lengths of time with time skips abound.

And are you working on anything at the moment?

I am currently working on my pieces for the Whumpmas in July event (@whumpmasinjuly), which will be half Kane & Jim works and half one-shot short stories.

I’m so excited for Whumpmas in July, it’s such a cool event! Do you have a joke or pun you would like to share to spread some smiles today?

I’m not too good at jokes, so instead have my favorite cat video of all time for a smile: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rELs4jl64k

Aww kittens! That’s definitely a smile from me! Is there any writing advice you’d like to share?

You don’t have to write everything in order. If something in a piece is giving you trouble, slap a “COME BACK HERE” label on it and move on to something the inspiration is flowing for.

Finally is there anyone you’d like to mention?

Sorry this is a lot… I have too much love in my heart <3

@anomalys-taxonomy, @blackberry-bloody, @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night, @emmettnet, @lost-in-labradorite-halls, @lumpofwhump, @not-a-space-alien, @obsessedwithegos, @oddsconvert, @pardonmekreature, @quietly-by-myself, @t0rture-me, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @whump-queen, @whumperstorm, @whumpshaped, @whumpwillow, @wolfeyedwitch, @whumpy-writings, @whumpzone

Any last words?

i forced myself to use proper capitalization for this interview but i’m a lowercase guy at heart

Thank you so much for joining us today! It was great to have you on the show!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

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dxmpstr · 2 years ago

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HELLO

I’m dxmpstr. or dxmpstr mxn. or simply Lukas.

i’m a 21 year old humanoid thing. i use He/Him mostly, but It is good too. like in a creature way. i tend to disconnect myself from humanity sometimes.

i don’t do much. creatively or in life. Ken’s job is just Beach, my job is just Hyperfixate.

i do have my few creative endeavours that i have yet to actually start. i’m hoping this blog will be the kick i need. i have an ao3 account collecting dust because i haven’t actually started writing anything. i can’t draw for shit so writing is what i got. i also make edits every now and then. eventually, i’ll make a master list of all of them and whatever writing stuff i post in the future.

moving on, how about i get into some of those said hyperfixations?

to start, one of the most recent is yakuza/ryu ga gotoku. been into it for only over a year but it’s consumed my entire life. i’m also very into anything hannibal lecter, be it the movies, books, or tv show. i’ve been into that for a few years now. at this point, i’d say Jerma985 has evolved into a hyperfixation for me, im constantly watching his stream archives and clip complications. my earliest hyperfixation i can remember is Invader Zim, i’ve been into it since i was a wee boy (it really explains a lot about how i ended up if you think about it). basically if i have a board (meme or otherwise) on pinterest for it, it’s a hyperfixation. some of the only exceptions to that are the band Trash Boat because they aren’t big enough and Last Podcast on the Left, but that’s made up for with meme pages i follow elsewhere. rapid fire other hyperfixations are Pikmin, Kirby, Katamari, Good Omens, Mr Robot, Pokemon, Hellsing, Hatsune Miku/all the Cryptonloids (and to a smaller degree vocal synth in general) and Project Sekai (Colorful Stage)/Project Diva.

some of my non-hyperfixation interests include: music, video games, reading, anime and manga, cartoons (adult or otherwise), movies, etc.

in terms of music, i really do listen to a bit of everything. some of my favourites are Trash Boat (as previously stated), Jhariah, Babymetal, Oingo Boingo, Fall Out Boy, blink-182, Buck-Tick, Deco*27, Malice Mizer, Atarashi Gakko, and Will Wood (Tapeworms era too).

this is going on way too long. i either suck at talking about myself or i never shut the fuck up about myself. there’s no in between. i’m open to talk about whatever else wasn’t talked about here. like if you wanna know my favorite anime or movies or whatever, just ask. same goes for if you wish to find my other dwellings on the webs.

that’s been my intro. now to go back into hiding until the next time someone needs an omen or a bridge collapse.

my brother did a funky little graphic for his intro but i’m lazy so you just get paragraphs.

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namelesspastel · 2 years ago

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Once Bitten....: Chapter 1

Hello! I'm Pastel, a Sasaki to Miyano fanfic writer. You can find me on AO3 under namelesspastel. This is the first chapter of one of my (personal) favorite stories I've written. Enjoy!!

In this world, vampires exist. No, they don’t exist like they do in the movies or in fiction, but they are real.

It’s been found that via modern science that rather than being bitten or something along those lines, vampires are actually just humans that go through a genetic mutation in the womb. Whatever mutation that is, causes vampirism; the need to drink blood to survive, a slow aging rate making them seem almost immortal, sensitivity to sunlight and heightened physical and mental abilities. Pure-blood vampires always need to drink blood directly from a living being in order to survive.

There are two ways vampires come to exist; a vampire is born between two vampires and a vampire is born between two humans – the baby have mutated before birth. These vampires are considered pure-blood vampires, and the older the vampire linage, the more pure they are considered.

The other way vampires come into existence is by a human and a vampire having a child. The child has about 50/50 chance of becoming a human or vampire, the with the first stages showing in young childhood – approximately around three to four years old. The child will typically show one of the following signs: a need for blood, heightened sensitivity to sunlight, or remarkable athletic and academic prowess. If any of those appear, there’s a good chance the child is a half vampire, a dahmpire, a creature that can live off of both human food and blood.

Some dahmpires need more food than blood and some need more blood than food. Some can take in blood packs, some need it directly from the source. They might not be as athletic or as smart as a pure-blood but they typically do better than humans. They also aren’t as sensitive to the sun as pure-bloods. But no vampiric person is a morning bird.

There are some cases – very, very few – in which a person with a human parent and a vampire parent doesn’t awaken in the early stages of childhood and rather, awakens in the early to late stages of adolescence….

My name is Yoshikazu Miyano, I’m a third year in middle school and I just got my first craving for blood.

***

I knew that there was a chance I could become a vampire – my father is one after all – but having gone through all of primary and almost all of junior high without a single inkling of wanting blood or any of the other signs (aside from being a night owl but I am a teen in junior high, that’s normal), I thought I was in the clear.

But all that came crashing down when one of my classmates cut themselves on some paper. It wasn’t a serious wound, but did it bleed. And all I could think about was how it would taste.

Needless to say, I freaked out and went home early that day. Despite my parents best efforts, I’ve been stuck in my room since. That happened at the beginning of July. It’s almost September now and I still haven’t stepped foot in my school.

I spent my time reading manga and surfing the net. While I was idly looking through some blogs, I came across one that had a band I recognized from a drama I had watched recently. The blog itself was simple, it wasn’t very eye-catching and to be honest, the person running the blog didn’t seem that interested in posting daily, but their posts when they did make them really showed just how much they enjoyed music and the bands they were writing about.

Working up my courage after a few weeks of checking the blog out, I made an account and posted a comment. It hadn’t been anything serious, just a simple comment saying how I had come across the band myself. I hadn’t expected a response and yet, within an hour of me posting that comment, I got an email saying there had been a reply. I was curious and checked and found that the owner themselves had responded to my comment. They had responded enthusiastically about the drama and asked if I had heard any of their other works. And just like that, I started regular contact with the owner of the blog.

We only talked through email, but I did learn a few things. They were my senpai, a year older so a first year in high school. They had started the blog simply because their friends had said they should. Apparently their friends said they needed a hobby and music was something they already liked so it was easy enough. One of the reasons they had replied to my comment was because I was a name they hadn’t recognized. Most of the people who left comments were their friends from school who knew about the blog or bots.

I told them about how I had stopped going to school since July and how I was afraid of going back. It was easier to tell a stranger, someone who I couldn’t see physically, and get across my true feelings about the matter. I didn’t ever bring up the whole dhampire thing though. While vampires were accepted in society as just commonplace, I was still struggling with the fact that I was one now. I played it off as simply a form of anxiety, which in a way it was.

Hmm… that does sound tough. I get that though. It can be hard to return after making a scene like that. Kinda like a you missed your moment kinda thing. Did you talk to the person from school? Get their opinion on it?

No… I never thought to reach out. I was just so freaked out, I hadn’t even thought about what my reaction was like to them…

Were you close?

Hmm… I wouldn’t say we were close but they sat next to me in class. We talked sometimes. They were in the art club and asked me to model for them a few times. I turned them down, though.

Ooh? Could I actually be talking a beauty this whole time without knowing it?

No comment.

ww don’t worry about it, I’m kidding. Anyway, since you stopped going to school, I’m assuming that means you aren’t thinking about high school?

… I don’t know. I mean… I do want to go to high school but… what if the same thing happens again? What if someone gets hurt and I freak out again? I’m scared I won’t be able to stop myself…

Well, I can’t tell you not to worry about it. But maybe it might be good? A change of pace. A different school with a different set of people. If you pick one that’s kinda far away, there’s a chance that people from your school won’t even go there. Or maybe you can pick one of those all one gender schools? That way even if you did run into someone, at least you’d know you’d be on the same level.

“Huh…” I said softly, reading senpai’s message. I hadn’t thought of that. An all boys school a bit far away… there was one that I’d had my eye on. It was about three stations away, and also allowed students to live in dorms. If need be, I thought I could ask my parents to let me stay in the dorm but with my awakening the whole idea of high school had been thrown out the window. But maybe they were right. A change of pace might be a good idea after all.

“But can I even get into high school anymore…?” I pondered aloud. My grades had been good enough before I stopped going to school but I wasn’t sure if I could keep up now. “Hmm… I wonder if this awakening would help me with that… but if I’m serious about this I should probably–” I was cut off by a knock at my door.

“Yoshi-kun?” My mom called, slowly opening the door and peeking inside. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. What’s going on, mom?” I asked, closing my laptop and focusing on her. She nodded and came in, sitting on my bed beside me.

“Well, your father and I have been discussing some things… do you still want to go to high school? Or would you rather just stop at middle school? As long as you have your compulsory education, it should be fine but…” She paused and took a breath before giving me a soft smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come off like I was a pressuring you.”

I shook my head. It was fine, I knew my extended absence from school was probably causing my parents a lot of stress, even if they did understand what was going on.

“Anyway, we’ve been discussing things like I said and we came across some schools that are specifically for vampires. While you might only be a half, I don’t see why they wouldn’t let you in. Your grades from before were a little on the low side for this type of school but if you attend cram school, I think you’ll just about make it…” She said, shuffling some papers she had in her hands. I hadn’t noticed them before and a quick glance told me that they were brochures.

“Actually mom… I’ve been thinking about it and…”

***

Senpai! Sorry I haven’t been responding lately. Things have been a bit hectic. Thanks to your advice, I talked to my parents and decided to go to high school! For now, I’m just going to attend cram school – kind of as a way to play catch up and see where I am. Depending on how that goes though, I think I might actually return to school. I’m still kind of scared if I’m being honest...

Hey! Long time no speak! That’s great about you moving forward, I’m glad I could help, even though I don’t think I did much ww as for the whole returning back to school thing… I think it’s really brave of you. Really. From what you said, that moment was really scary for you but it seems like you’re doing better now. I think if it’s you, you’ll be able to do it. Actually, I don’t think, I know.

… thank you, Senpai. For everything up until now. Um, I’m going to be busy now but is it okay if I still message you from time to time? It… it really helps.

Of course! Message me whenever you feel like. It can be about anything. I really enjoy our little chats.

If you enjoyed that (or if it just caught your interest at all), feel free to read the rest here!

#sasaki to miyano #sasaki and miyano #miyano yoshikazu #sasaki shuumei #sasamiya #ssmy #fanfic #writing #vampire au

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weatheredlaw · 2 years ago

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Hi there! As a fic reader, I wanted to say I really enjoy your work. I've only read through some of your stuff via ao3, but I re-read a few of your Honor Among Thieves stories regularly. As a fic writer, I wanted to know, even with long breaks in between stories, how do you stay motivated to write so many fanfics AND get a book out?? I'm personally one of those types that will regularly think about a story I started but didn't finish, yet also fail to get back on it even when I really want to.

This is very kind of you to say! I will say myself upfront I don’t have a proper novel completed - my book is a chapbook of self published poems from a few years ago.

As far as finishing my work - I absolutely have WIP’s that are not finished and probably never will be. It happens and it’s not really a bad thing all the time. You try to do something and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. As far as being consistent, I don’t think there’s a trick to it. Every writer is going to create at a different pace. If it’s finishing work you’re struggling with, I highly recommend writing sprints! Either on your own or with a group of fellow writers! I have a sprint bot in a little discord server I made that’s just for me and a friend or two. I also recommend fic exchanges. They can require you to finish something (within a time frame if you’re good with deadlines) and it’s nice to write something you know someone is looking for!

I’ve had my AO3 account for 12 years now, so my body of work has grown pretty steadily! It takes time but the most important thing I think any fic writer can do is to not give up. Don’t worry about hits or comments. Don’t worry about kudos or statistics. You just gotta write. And you don’t have to do it every day either! I think sometimes we see folks who appear to be extremely industrious, with a large body of work and we don’t know how they manage it, but they have ruts and writers block same as anyone else. I haven’t published since June, but I’m starting to feel the bug coming back with some older fandoms.

I hope this is helpful! I’ve been writing fic a long time but the things that work for me don’t necessarily work for other people - you gotta find your own rhythm in the end, but I’m genuinely always happy to answer questions.

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 1 year ago

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Hello all!

So, someone sent me an ask about that "Writer truth or dare" (link to the post) and I decided to do them all like I said I would in the tags, ha. I will also answer their question directly, but I mostly just wanted to do this for fun. :-)

Answers under a read more to preserve your dashboards. :-)

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats

User Subscriptions: 128 Kudos: 10,934 Comment Threads: 1,855 Bookmarks: 3,138 Subscriptions: 1,565 Word Count: 2,133,056 Hits: 291,461

This is over 28 fics, written over the span of about 10 years, since my first published AO3 work was done in 2014 when I was 16.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I honestly don’t quite remember? I know that I had an idea for a Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley fic while at lunch in like… 7th grade and I wrote about a chapter of it in my art notebook, but as for why or what got me to know what fanfic is, I honestly don’t remember.

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

I… don’t really have one? I mean, I tend to listen to my songs on one big playlist on iTunes or on YouTube, with maybe a couple of specific ones, but nothing that major. As such, I’ll just link the playlist I made for TPWP.

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

7-8 depending on the fic. If I like the chapter and it’s mostly just fine tuning that I’m doing, I like it quite a lot. But if it’s a “ugh this chapter/paragraph/sentence is awful and I don’t know how to fix it and I hate it ahhhhh” kinda thing, then I don’t like it quite as much, ha. But it is satisfying to finally realize how to fix a problem I had with a chapter, so it can be rewarding too. Thus… 7-8.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

😍🥰🙊❤️‍🩹🏳️‍🌈

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

Well, first of all if I accidentally killed someone, I likely would just turn myself in because lying would help nothing and would just make me super stressed. Second of all, I wouldn’t text a mutual, I would text my brother or my dad, ha.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

This one is hard, because I love a lot of fanfics and authors. So, I’m just going to pass, oof.

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

35 exactly. The same number of unread emails I have had since I was 13. Why? Because I am so used to seeing a red “35” next to my gmail account on my phone or in gmail itself, and anytime I try and get rid of those emails, I get anxious and mark them as unread again. So, technically speaking, I have 0 unread emails, since to me 36 emails would indicate that I have an unread email. Yes, I am neurotic about this kind of thing, no I don’t really care.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

I don’t like tagging people… it always makes me feel awkward and anxious, so I’m gonna skip this one too. :-/

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

Original characters. I dislike reader inserts. They feel… weird to me. No shame on people who like them! Just… not for me.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Uhhhh…… I mean, I don’t really know what I have and haven’t posted here before? I’m usually a fairly open person. Well, I guess I can share this, since I don’t think I’ve actually ever shared this here yet, even though I’ve been planning it for almost a year now… no idea if it technically counts as “lore,” but it’s something, ha. Anyway, next month my older brother and I are going to Japan! We’re going to be there for 2 weeks and are going to 3 different cities. I’m hoping to possibly find some Danganronpa things, though I know it’s not super mainstream anymore. Here’s hoping!

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

Lack of motivation or energy. Just because I have time doesn’t mean I have the will.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

This one is tricky, because I don’t tend to follow people back often? Not for any reason, just it’s not something I do often. Usually, if someone asks or if they mention in tags following me for a while I’ll check their blog out and follow if I think their stuff aligns with my interests. But otherwise… not much I guess?

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I’m going to Japan next month with my brother.

I passed my final exam that I was positive I failed, so now I’ll be able to graduate (as soon as I figure out the requirements…)

I no longer have to wake up early to do an annoying internship I didn’t like much. :-)

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

It was a response to a mutual asking a question, since it got pretty long and writing in the Tumblr app can be iffy at times.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Nope. :-)

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don’t tend to research weird things for my fics. I did look up all parts of a ship once, since I wrote a pirate AU a long time ago and was like “shoot… what’s this part of the ship actually called???” Not weird, but definitely interesting.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

If there is nothing you can do in a situation, good or bad, then it’s okay to just ignore it and move on if you can. I use this advice whenever there are big global issues that I personally can’t do anything to help. Why spend my time and energy getting needlessly angry over things I can’t change, when I could focus that energy on the things I can, you know? The way that I can change the world is by helping children and encouraging them to grow. That is my life’s goal and my biggest desire in life. I’d rather spend my time and energy on getting my degree, and then later getting a job as a school counselor. I’m not good with anger. I don’t like being angry. So… I just ignore it as best I can. Like, I’ll be informed on what is happening, but I don’t get angry or obsess over it, you know? And it doesn’t make me a bad person, and if anyone thinks it does, then I legit don’t care. It’s my life, and I know how obsessive I can get over things, and I don’t want to ruin my life over things I can’t change. I don’t have the temperament to be an activist. I’m too mild emotionally speaking. So… yeah. I hope that makes sense, ha.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I either have already written my dream themes/plots, or I’ve thought about them in enough detail to know exactly how they’ll go, which is good enough for me. And I personally think that I would write it best. I know my own tastes and I would rather write something myself than ask it of something else, you know?

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Just give it time. Don’t force it. If you force it, your work will not be your best, which will frustrate you more and add to the writer’s block. For me, inspiration and desire to write comes in waves. Some weeks/months I’m super creative and write a ton (I’ve written two 375k+ fics in a month and a half each, for example). Other weeks/months it feels like every word I write is like pulling teeth. If I try and force myself to write during the latter times, then I get frustrated and it leads me to hate writing, which leads to those times lasting longer. Every time I’ve waited it out, however, I am able to come back to writing fresh and wanting to write. So… just wait. Have patience. Unless you’re a professional writer with a professional deadline, you don’t have to rush it.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

Can’t think of one on the top of my head.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I like all comments, but my favorite are the long ones where people point out things that I wrote in chapter they liked, they theorize where things will go next, or they ask questions. Honestly, I love it when people ask questions, since I love rambling about my work, ha.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

No. :-)

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?

I mean, it depends on what you mean by “lie” and by “a lot.” Because I will tell white lies or half-truths on occasion. Less now than when I was younger, but if it will get me out of trouble or if it will smooth things over, I will tell white lies. Big lies I don’t tend to do, though. It’s only things that don’t really matter one way or the other but make my life easier. Otherwise, I am fairly honest and I prefer honesty. I’ve found that people are much more likely to be forgiving if you’re like “yeah, I messed up, I’m genuinely sorry.”

This all being said, I did tell a huge, very elaborate lie to the children at work recently, ha. Basically, I went to Ireland in 2019, and when I started working at my current after school site, I mentioned to a kid offhanded that I met a leprechaun there and became friends with him. I meant it as like... a joke, you know? But the kid fully believed me and was so excited. She asked if the leprechaun would come visit for St. Patrick’s day, and I was like “uhhhhh yeah?” So, from then on, I have had to not only keep up this lie but expand it. Last year my “leprechaun friend” got married. This year, he had twins. I communicate with my leprechaun friend via letters that I translate (badly, I tell the kids) into Irish, and he replies with letters written in “ancient Irish.” The kids absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea if they all believe me, but even the fourth and fifth graders are super into it, and even if they don’t believe me, they don’t let it show.

Last year I had the children write my leprechaun friend letters, which they (badly. VERY BADLY) translated into Irish and wrote on a paper, which my “leprechaun friend” had to painstakingly translate and then write a response to over 7 different children. Then “he” had to make the paper looks old and worn, since it would be suspicious if a thousands year old creature wrote on crisp white printer paper. It was. Not fun. So, my “leprechaun friend” refused to write them letters this year, since a student last year (no, of course I don’t know who, and even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you, stop being so nosy child) showed their letter to someone they weren’t supposed to and my “leprechaun friend” was unhappy, since “he” specifically told me to tell them not to do this.

Yeah. It’s, uh. It’s getting a bit much. Every time a kid asks a new question, I have to quickly come up with a lie. And I’m like… a good liar, right? But dang is it a lot. 😅(Also I don’t feel too bad about lying, since it’s less lying and more making believe, you know? And I hope that when the kids look back, they won’t think “oh my god my after school teacher lied to me for years!!!” and they will think “Oh wow. My after school teacher spent so much time and effort creating an elaborate story for us because she genuinely cared about us.” Or something like that, ha.)

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

Nothing really? Not anything bad or major, at least. I mean, I’ve been thinking about the end of my grad program a lot, but not in a bad way.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

I mean… yeah? Lots of media? That’s what fanfic is, it’s writing inspired by various media. If you mean, like… writing style, then no. I just write how I think (as shown above with my leprechaun friend rant, ha). It’s why my work has a lot of ellipses and introspection and random details that aren’t really important, but add to the vibe of the scene, you know?

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I’m a bit weak when it comes to plot. Like, anything more advanced than “character A likes character B but is all conflicted over it” is a struggle for me. The few fics I wrote that actually have plot always go off the rails at some point, since I always go too big and get stuck. It’s one reason why all my fics are very same-y and follow similar troupes. But honestly? I don’t really care. I like writing similar fics with different environments with simple plots. I much prefer exploring the characters and their motivations and their emotions than focusing on plot.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

Depends on the surprise.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Ha, I did this last night when I first saw this post, here you go:

“That makes it easy to ignore them and just enjoy everything else.

Once the group exits the elevator, they collectively pause for a moment, taking in the sight before them. And, honestly, Mondo gets it. He’s never been one for fancy as fuck surroundings, preferring simple shit and small luxuries over anything stupidly elaborate. But this…? He’s gotta admit. /This/ is fucking nice.”

Have fun trying to figure out the context of this. :-)

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

When I was, like… thirteen or fourteen I created a Facebook page for A Very Potter Musical/Sequel, entitled Red Vines, What the Hell Can’t They Do? (A quote from one of the Potter musicals). Since I was a Draco fan, my “Admin name” was ~Draco. But once I added more admins to help me run the page, I decided to make my own Admin page, since that was very popular back in the day. I didn’t want to just be ~Draco, though. Honestly, I don’t know if I was allowed to be, since it’s not exactly a unique page name. So, I changed it to Draco the Death Eater. A couple weeks or so later I saw a Draco themed cupcake and though “!!! I WANNA BE A CUPCAKE!!!” since I was like. Twelve. And overly excitable.

I thought “Draco the Cupcake” looked weird though, so I added back the Death Eater element and settled on “Draco the Death Eating Cupcake.” Then I began using my Admin page a lot more and got over 200 likes, which back then meant you couldn’t change your page name again, so I was kinda stuck as “Draco the Death Eating Cupcake.” I didn’t mind though. I kinda liked the name. Ever since, it’s been kinda my thing, using it over various websites and whatnot. It’s “my brand” I guess you could say. Even though I’m very anti J.K. Rowling, I do harbor some nostalgic affection for Harry Potter, and I refuse to let her steal something I’ve built for myself over the past decade and a half, you know?

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

Ah, this is another one I don’t really want to do. Like I said earlier, I don’t like tagging people in general, but I also don’t like singling out “biggest supporters” for the same reason I don’t like having “favorite” people. It just feels icky to me, you know? Because everyone who supports me, no matter how small, means so, so much to me. You could be here every single day, following me and screaming my praises, or you could give me a single “I like your work!” and it means the world to me. And that’s not to downplay the more vocal supporters! You all know who you are, and I hope you know how very honored I am to have your support. I don’t like singling people out, though, since A) it’s sometimes awkward for the person who is begin singled out and B) it might make other supporters who I either didn’t mention or forgot to mention or who aren’t quite as big feel bad, which I don’t want to do. It’s the same thing I say whenever the kids at work ask me who my favorite is. I always reply “no one. I don’t have a favorite student since I like you all in different ways. Yes, even the more challenging ones.”

That all being said… to everyone who has ever supported me, big or small, I really do appreciate you so, so much. When I started writing at 13, I was so incredibly critical of my work, and a lot of the comments I got back then were “con crit” that just made me feel worse, even if it was genuinely constructive. I struggled with “show, don’t tell” a lot and it frustrated the hell out of me because I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. Even now, when I am so much better at writing and don’t feel ashamed admitting that, I still feel that anxiety of not being good enough. Of not knowing enough. So, to have people not only enjoy my work, but be so supportive? It genuinely means the world to me. So… thank you.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Yep! I have two little fluff buckets, Rosie and Addle (Adelaide for long). They are guinea pigs and they are very cute and very dumb. :-)

The first two I took today, the other three on previous days. It's them chilling in their hay box we give them, ha. They love climbing in their and kicking the other one out. They... don't like each other much. They don't fight, but they also don't really interact except to try and steal the other's food (which is what's happening in the top photo, ha). Addle is the brown-ish, black, and white colored one, while Rosie is the black and white one. Rosie is five and Addle is three. Rosie used to have an original cage mate, Sara, but she sadly passed after a quick illness that started on Thanksgiving in 2021, since we couldn't get her to a vet thanks to the holiday. It was very sad and I still miss Sars. :-( She was such a little sweetie.

For reference, Sara:

RIP little girl... :-(

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Ehhhh I’m too tired to go looking for fanart I like, so I say no for now.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

If it’s first person POV. I don’t know why, but first person POV in fanfiction always bothers me, and only in very rare instances have I read first person POV fics. More often than not I immediately back out and move on. Again, no shame to people who like first person, but it’s just never been my cup of tea.

#Personal post #ask game #writer ask game #ask game answers

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ideaamachine · 2 years ago

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Hi!

Ok so I’ve technically used tumblr as an outsider (on my browser) for 5 years because I was too lazy/unable to make an account but now I’m and “adult” in “college” who can “make my own decisions” and so I bit the bullet and made a tumblr but honest to god have no idea how to carry myself on this platform 💀 it’s like being an outsider and then finally getting into the club but then you don’t know what to do with yourself now that you’re in.

I’m not a total idiot; I know how tags and such work, but as for actually posting and making a “blog” I am clueless. All I ask is you bear with me as I try to figure this out.

Additionally this is my “first post” so I plan to get some generic info about me out of the way so nobody is confused:

I am a passionate writer for both my own original work (you will probably not see) and fanfiction (you might see once in a blue moon). I have a terrible writing schedule on account I am busy with college and various other life things as well as my indecisiveness when it comes to picking a story and sticking with it. I have been desperately trying to finish a Clive x reader (FFXVI) for two months but I’ve also started reading Bleach (worst mistake of my life) and have been fighting the urge to write something for that.

All that is just a fancy way of me lowering your expectations if I happened to post a story that’s more than 1 part. I try to stick to one shots for obvious reasons.

In the future I MAY take suggestions for certain things/fandoms but that’s a HUGE maybe.

Also, I don’t know if I’ll ever post anything 18+ or spicy on here since tumblr is a little more picky with rules and ratings than say ao3 (I swear you can get away with murder on there) and I’m nervous and don’t want to get smited (banned) by the hand of god (tumblr staff). So incase I happened to post something on ao3…my name is ideaMachine (fittingly I have no posts yet 🫠).

That all being said, thanks for reading this far and I’m sure to either update or remove this post when I get more comfortable with this space. If anyone who stubbles across this totally dumpster fire post is kind enough to offer advice feel free to do so.

TLDR: I’m a tumblr noob, please be patient because I’m new to posting here. Don’t expect consistent updates or posting, my ao3 is ideaMachine incase I post something spicy.

Thank you :)

#tumblr noob #someone help #i’m scared

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crystalcatgamer · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tag by @havenotwillnotreadthebooks, lo, Kefi!

How many works do you have on AO3?

122 🎵 I’ve orphaned and deleted a few along the years, though.

What fandoms do you write for?

Uhhhh. Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint (ORV), Boboiboy, Jujutsu Kaisen and more. Currently really, really fixated on One Piece though I haven’t written fic yet, but am cooking so much toxic doomed brothers food (Donquixote Bros)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Vis la goddamn DSMP phase always going to be my biggest mark in the world. Excluding discontinued fics and stuff I’m not happy with anymore for now…

Run, run (Here comes the boy) 1415 kudos

May the odds (Be ever in your favour) 1203 kudos

There are days where I don’t know the person in the mirror (And there are days I don’t care) 1161 kudos

Hold you in my hands like hot tea 1155 kudos

Knowing I’m safe cause you want me 1052 kudos (A sequel to fourth place!)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to every single comment I can, though sometimes I might miss some! I’ll catch them months later lmao. It’s always fun to chat with ppl about what’s in my fic

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back. This is an ORV fic, doomed Doksoo (beloved) and since it’s canon compliant… yeah. ‘Twas full of angst that came from love.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The deep blue of summer nights. This was a cute ORV fic born of me wanting to write Secretive Plotter’s birthday being celebrated by ABFD, SWK and Uriel! They’re my fav rare dynamic

Do you get hate on fics?

I think the closest I got was some discourse on my DSMP fic? To be expected, and it was cleared up soon enough!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I did like years ago lmao, tucked into the depths of the internet. Definitely not on main, for this is a family friendly account sir. It was fun in a way but also I hated writing it most of the time??? More of a reader than a writer I would say. As for what kind… while, I wrote what I liked ☆

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I HAVE THREE (3) CROSSOVERS AND THEY’RE BOTH WITH JUJUTSU KAISEN. Maybe I’m more insane over JJK then I thought I was. In my defence they’re easy to cross. Okay so basically my craziest one is this ORV X JJK one (Something blue, something new) in which I wrote the ship Kim Dokja x Gojo Satoru because I was commissioned to

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope and I hope I never do!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not, but as long as people ask first I’m always open to it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A FNAF fic I wrote with Kefi (the one who pinged me for this game): Many vegetables, one soup, and a work full of original poems with @thenamelesshaven: You are made of the sea and the stars (and one day you are going to find yourself again)

What’s your all time favourite ship?

[glances at my art gallery] Recently, LawLu from One Piece and… Sharron/Maric from Lord Of The Mysteries

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

We Shouldn’t Be This Kind Of Tired At Our Age! An ORV fic featuring Yoo Mia witnessing Yoo Joonghyuk’s changes with every turn!

What are your writing strengths?

Uhhhh. Being able to churn out stuff at the speed of light. And writing angst (lol)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually having a proper outline, ehe. It’s why I usually write one-shots.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Uhhhh I? Might do it some day? I’m just a bilingual guy who barely passed Chinese. It’s cool when other people who know what they’re writing about do it in their fics tho.

First fandom you wrote for?

Ehe. VIS LA BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA (MY HERO ACADEMIA) but the fic’s been orphaned to the void ✌🏻

Favourite fic you’ve written?

Woah. Tough question, scrambling for it… this one! when I look in his eyes, well, I just see the sky. It’s a Black Butler fic I wrote recently for Whumptober (2023), Elizabeth Midford centric! I love her a lot <3

#got a game for me #my family gets a personal tag #my writing #orv #fic

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synapticconstruction · 2 years ago

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1 year since Will posted a part to his Let’s Play

#it’s also been a year since I’ve made an ao3 account that I have yet to post but maybe when I start to feel brave abt it #the twitter quotes account has also been down so twitter is not the same without them.#I partially count October as I had the a horrific realization that I had to cone to terms with and concluded nothing could be done abt itnow #I hype myself up yo make art for this webseries soon #I want to make art that evokes my enthusiasm and my dread #I have things up my sleeve but patiently wait to play the cards #May will be the month in terms of me actually doing something #not for the first weeks at least. Close to wrapped up my first year at Uni somewhat #[partial lie I have summer for at least a month]#but fret I use the tag feature to ramble !! Tumblr is kind of fun for that feature !!#Many Thoughts Many Ideas to draw but not enough time !!#It’s joever soon

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beautifulhigh · 3 years ago

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In the burned house I am eating breakfast (Gen) 5k (AO3 link)

Thanks to @queen-saltyfries for making the Tumblr post which helped shape this idea into something I wrote in one sitting. Also thanks to Rafa for the storyline - if you won’t write it then I will. Next time just link to your AO3 account.

Title comes from the poem "Morning in the Burned House" by Margaret Atwood

In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here I am.

He’s aware of a lot of noise, maybe someone shouting? But it’s all a bit fuzzy and he just wants to go to sleep and so he does.

Carlos wakes up on the day of his eighth birthday, all excited for what lies ahead. He’s been promised a whole day with his family doing what he wants (he doesn’t know that his sisters have been bribed with additions to their allowance for the month as well as a fully funded trip to the cinema for them both and two friends next week.)

He’s planned it all out: Mami is going to make them all pancakes for breakfast and he gets to have all the syrup he wants. Then they are going into town so he can get a new pair of sneakers that he’s been saving up for before going to the comic book store. They are going to have lunch at the little café he likes because the woman who runs it is friends with his mom and so she always gives him extra fries with his burger. Then they’re going to the arcade and then to the ice cream parlour and then the video store where he gets to choose both movies for them to watch that night as they camp out in the living room.

It's going to be the best day ever and he gets to be in charge of all of it.

He’s already chosen what he’s going to wear: his favourite pair of blue jeans and the grey shirt that he knows Mami likes. It’s smart and comfortable and makes him feel a little more grown up now that he’s a whole eight years.

“If you turn the eight on its side it’s the infinity symbol and that means forever,” he’d said last week on the walk home from school.

“So does that mean that if you lie down you’re really old?” Isabella had teased. She’d turned 11 last month and since starting Middle School she had decided that she was too grown up to be nice to her baby brother.

“Bella,” their father had warned softly.

She’d shrugged and skipped to catch up with Valentina and Maria, linking arms with her sisters as they made their way home.

“What else did you learn today, mijo?” Gabriel had asked.

Carlos was too busy watching his sisters ahead of them: they knew how far they could be away from their father before he complained and so kept to that distance with absolute precision.

“It’ll get better as you get older,” Gabriel said, taking his son’s hand in his. “Your mami and I went through this with your aunts and uncles. Doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

“They don’t want to spend time with me. Maria thinks I’m a baby.”

“Maria thinks that because she’s turning sixteen in a few months she’s an adult,” Gabriel countered. “And you’re a fine young man, Carlos.”

“I’ve decided what I want for my birthday,” Carlos then declared.

And so the plan was in motion and Carlos bounded down the stairs to find his whole family sitting around the table, with plates of pancakes already stacked up, and a whole jug of syrup by his place. His sisters gave him hugs and kisses and presents and as they all sat around together to say grace, thanking God for the food and their family, and asking Him to not only bless Carlos’ special day but to also guide him through the coming year, Carlos thought that things could not get much better.

Keep reading on AO3

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #911ls #otp: hey baby #writing jen is writing #tarlos fic

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chilucult · 4 years ago

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posting my chiluc smut here first bc I don't have an ao3 account (yet)! will post the ao3 link once I get an account and get it posted.

again, this is smut, minors begone.

also, this is my first fic ever, so feel free to roast me.

another warning, this is long (~10k words)

fic under the cut!

The Fatui Harbinger had been coming to the Angel’s Share for the past few nights. He called himself “Childe”. Diluc was not very fond of him, what with him being with the Fatui and all, but he was a paying customer, so Diluc treated him as he did every other patron. Diluc just wished this Childe guy would treat him like every other bartender.

“Can I get another shot? Pretty please, oh pretty barkeep?” Ajax batted his eyes at Diluc, noticing the man give a slight eye roll before he began to pour the Harbinger his requested shot.

Ajax had been trying to get the attention of this particular bartender for some nights now. When he had first entered the Angel’s Share tavern, his sight had tunnel-visioned on the entrancing man behind the bar with fiery red hair. Ajax knew he had to have him. The bartender, Diluc, his name tag read, was not as perceptive to Ajax’s advances as he had hoped he would be.

Diluc set down the shot he had ordered in front of him, jerking him out of his musings. “Would you like me to add this to your tab, sir?” Diluc asked him, all business. Oh, but Ajax would never tire of hearing the man’s voice, wanting to hear how it sounded when it was screaming his name.

Ajax cocked his head to the side to appreciate the view from a different angle. “Yes, please; and like I said, call me Childe.” He tried not to get discouraged when he saw Diluc scoff a bit. “Actually, you can call me anything you like,” he shot back with a wink.

Diluc only scoffed again, wiping down a glass from another customer. “I’m not going to call you by some made-up name. ‘Childe’ is ridiculous, anyway,” he explained, choosing to ignore the wink the Fatui man had sent him.

Ajax downed his shot easily, smirking slightly at Diluc’s raised eyebrow. “I told you that you could call me anything you want. Although, I certainly didn’t mind ‘sir’ either, if that’s what you’re into,” Ajax all but purred, his eyes half lidded in intent.

Diluc chuckled a bit sarcastically at that. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he shot back, only resorting to responding in such a manner because the Harbinger was pushing his buttons.

Ajax leaned forward on the bar, getting closer to the man of his desires. “Oh I would absolutely love to know just exactly what you’re into,” he whispered darkly, knowing that Diluc could still hear his every word. Ajax mentally pumped his fist when he saw Diluc inhale sharply at that.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Are you... flirting with me?” he asked, genuinely unsure.

Ajax’s eyes widened at the question before he sat back on his barstool with a laugh. “‘Am I flirting with you?’! Um, yeah, actually, have been for the past few days,” he laughs again, thinking it absurd that it took Diluc this long to figure out. “But thanks for noticing, I guess.” He still shook his head to himself, wondering if he had lost his flirting skills or if Diluc was just particularly dense.

Diluc felt his cheeks start to heat up, and quickly turned his back to the Harbinger. The Harbinger that was flirting with him. Diluc couldn’t understand why. The man was clearly out of Diluc’s league, surely he hadn’t missed all the other patrons in the tavern staring at him, had he? So, as he fiddled with empty glasses, wiping them down just to have something to occupy his hands with, he softly asked, “Why?”

Ajax tore his eyes from where he was blatantly staring at Diluc’s ass to meet the man’s hesitant eyes looking over his shoulder. “Why? Are you kidding me? You’re kidding right?” Diluc broke their eye contact, shyly looking down at the floor, which was not what Ajax wanted. “I don’t think we have time to cover my entire list of reasons, Red.” Diluc looked back at him questioningly, both at the nickname and the statement.

“You just look so... breathtaking.” Diluc turned back around to face Ajax, but couldn’t meet his eyes just yet. “Since I first saw you a few nights ago, I knew I just had to have you. I wanna know how beautiful you look when you let your hair down, what kinds of noises you’ll make when I pull on it. Wanna know how you sound after I’ve broken you, how you’ll look after I’ve made a mess of you,” Ajax murmured, slowly standing from his stool and crowding into Diluc as much as he could with the bar between them. He smirked victoriously when he saw Diluc breathing a bit heavier, his cheeks flushed a bright pink.

A loud clang from somewhere in the tavern jolted them apart, someone probably having knocked over their drink. Diluc’s eyes darted about the place, hoping no one had seen them just now. “Oh my- gods, you can’t say stuff like that here, I’m working,” he seethed, attempting to convey his annoyance, but knowing the Harbinger could probably see right through him.

“Not here?” Ajax repeated, a feral grin beginning to grow on his face. “So I could do it, say, in your bedroom?” He asked suggestively.

Diluc couldn’t deny his attraction to the Fatui man. He was hot, what could Diluc say? He had just never thought the man would be interested in him, but he had clearly been wrong. Plus, the things that he had been talking about did sound rather enticing...

He lowered his voice, praying to the gods that none of the other patrons in the tavern could hear what he was saying. “If I say yes, will you quit... teasing me for the rest of my shift?”

Ajax pulled away a bit, suddenly serious. “Hey now, don’t make it sound like I’m forcing you. If you really want me to cut it out and leave, just say the word and I’ll be gone.” He couldn’t stop the small smirk from gracing his lips as he said his next words. “But something tells me that you really don’t want me to stop.”

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes once again. “Do you think I would even consider going home with you if I didn’t want it?” He whispered, embarrassed to have to admit his desires, but also wanting to make his intentions clear.

Ajax grinned wickedly. “Perfect,” he purred. “So when do you get off work, Red?”

Diluc pouted slightly at the nickname before he glanced at the clock on the wall. “In... a little less than an hour. Think you can be patient for that long?”

“If I get to take you home? I’d wait forever,” Ajax grinned easily. He could see Diluc’s cheeks redden, but could also see the weak glare the man sent his way. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to work in peace.”

For the next hour, Diluc tried to carry on with his work normally, he really tried. Yet, he found it impossible to ignore the stirring of emotions in his gut. He was excited for the night ahead, yes, but there was also nervousness and anxiety eating away at him. He knew he wasn’t the most... experienced person out there. He had only ever slept with one girl years ago, finding it not to his liking. He had never even been with a man (unless you count that one guy he made out with a few years back). He hoped his inexperience wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for the man.

He also found it hard to ignore the presence of the Harbinger. He had kept his word, not making any more moves at Diluc, but Diluc couldn’t shake the feeling of the other man’s eyes tracking his every movement. Every so often when Diluc would sneak a peek at him, he would find the Harbinger shamelessly staring at him, eyes roaming over his body slowly, hungrily. He couldn’t help the flush in his cheeks, nor the way he fidgeted self-consciously with his apron.

When Charles came to finally relieve Diluc of his bartending duties, he could see the clear excitement in the Harbinger’s eyes. Diluc took off his apron, leaning in close to the man to whisper, “Meet me out back.” He almost laughed at the way the man bolted from his seat.

Ajax was waiting patiently behind the tavern for only a few minutes before the fiery redhead made his appearance. “So, where to, Red?” His lips twitched into a small smile as they began walking, noticing that Diluc was just slightly shorter than him.

Diluc grumbled to himself, “Since you’ve been coming to the tavern for days, I would’ve hoped you’d bother to read my name tag once.” He continued when the man beside him chuckled, nodding his head in the direction of the city gates. “The manor is a bit outside the city, hope you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Ajax cut himself off from the smooth retort of I’d walk to the ends of the earth to get you into bed with me to look at Diluc inquisitively. “Wait... manor?”

Diluc went on to explain that he owned the winery in Mondstadt, as well as the large manor house that was on the property. He also mentioned that he owned the tavern they were just at, internally preening at the impressed look on the Harbinger’s face.

After that, a silence fell between the two as they walked. Diluc didn’t seem to be one to make small talk much, and Ajax was perfectly fine just taking in the scenery, not feeling the need to run his mouth for once. It was comfortable.

Diluc was infinitely glad that he dismissed his house staff early each night, comforted by the fact that there would be no interruptions. As soon as he walked through the front door, his back was being shoved against the hard wood, the gasp he let out being swallowed by the incessant lips capturing his own. His eyes fell closed as he was kissed breathless against the door, a gloved hand gripping his hip and pinning him in place. Diluc slowly raised a hand to rest on the man’s shoulder as his mouth was invaded by the other’s tongue.

Diluc ripped his head back once the Harbinger gave him room to breathe. “H-hold on,” he panted, tilting his head slightly as the man hummed against the skin of his jaw in response. “I have... two things. F-first,” he stuttered out as the skin beneath his jaw was nipped lightly. “You need to tell me your name. I- I’m not calling you Childe.” His eyebrows furrowed in distaste at the name, even while his eyes slipped shut once again from the soft kisses being left on his neck.

Ajax chuckled against the skin of Diluc’s neck. He peppered light kisses across the skin of his jaw, making his way to the other’s ear, where he whispered, “It’s Ajax. Please do remember it, I want to hear you screaming it for me tonight.” He nipped at the skin just below Diluc’s ear, smirking at the way the man shivered slightly.

Diluc nodded absently, mouthing the name Ajax to see how it felt on his lips. He let his head fall back against the door as the man- Ajax- continued a trail down his throat. He hummed in content as his lips were captured in a searing kiss once again, only to have the noise turn into a weak whine as Ajax pulled away much sooner than Diluc would have liked.

“Didn’t you have another thing to say, baby?” Ajax questioned, reveling in the hitch in Diluc’s breath at the use of the pet name. Once his words registered with Diluc, he could notice the other man’s demeanor change, suddenly shy. His cheeks were flushed more in embarrassment than arousal, and his hand was nervously fidgeting with the clothes on Ajax’s shoulder. Ajax pulled himself back a bit, trying to give Diluc more room to get out whatever it was that he wanted to say.

“I- I’ve never... I mean, with a, uh, guy, at least... I’ve never, um... done... this,” he stammered out weakly, his words trailing off at the end. Diluc couldn’t bring himself to meet Ajax’s eyes, but he doubted he would’ve been able to read any expression on his face.

There was a moment's pause before Diluc heard Ajax ask, “Do you want to stop?” If there was any judgement in his voice, Diluc certainly couldn’t find it.

If Diluc thought he couldn’t get any more embarrassed than he already was, he was wrong. He internally cringed at how quick he was to respond. “No. No. I want... this. I just... thought you should, uh, know,” he finished weakly. He was emboldened, encouraged to continue by the soft smile on Ajax’s face. “Besides... you still need to follow through with your words,” he taunted, choosing to ignore the flush on his cheeks at the reminder of Ajax’s filthy promises.

The soft grin of Ajax’s face turned sharp as he crowded Diluc against the door once again. He buried his face into the side of the man’s neck, leaving a bite there before whispering against the skin, “Oh, baby. I’m gonna make it so good for you.” He reached down the grab Diluc’s thigh, using the grip he had on his hip with his other hand to lift the redhead, properly pinning him against the door. He smirked at the gasp Diluc let out, the way his legs scrambled to wrap around his waist.

Diluc was thriving. His head was tilted back against the door, his eyes slipped shut in pleasure. Diluc knew he was a large man, his muscles built well and even a bit bulky in some areas. So the way in which Ajax easily lifted him off the ground and was still supporting his weight against the door, was a bit shocking to Diluc. And, apparently, quite the turn on, if the rapid hardening in his pants was anything to go by. Diluc was glad that his long coat was still on, covering what had to be an obvious tent in his pants. He was embarrassed to be so turned on by just a little making out, but perhaps it was just the effect that Ajax had on him.

Ajax continued leaving a trail of bite marks down Diluc’s throat, encouraged by the way Diluc would tilt his head to the side, offering Ajax a larger expanse of skin to mark. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he muttered into Diluc’s skin darkly. He bit down at a spot at the base of Diluc’s throat rasher harshly, leaving his lips on the skin to suck on the mark, ensuring it would leave a nice bruise. He glanced up at the sound of a muffled whimper to see Diluc biting his bottom lip, no doubt in an attempt to keep his noises at bay.

Ajax let go of his hip, bringing his hand up to thumb at Diluc’s lower lip, urging him to release it from between his teeth. Diluc complied easily, his eyes slipping open when Ajax tutted at him. “Nuh uh, let me hear you, baby. I wanna hear all the beautiful noises you can make,” he smirked slightly at the small whimper that escaped from Diluc’s lips. “Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he finished with a whisper.

Diluc’s hands flew to the back of Ajax’s head, gripping his hair and bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. Ajax groaned into Diluc’s mouth, his tongue slipping between the other’s lips easily. With his free hand, Ajax attempted to push the heavy coat off of Diluc’s shoulders, but with his back pinned against the door, it was futile. He groaned into Diluc’s mouth again, this time in annoyance, before he ripped himself away from the mouth that was quickly becoming addicting.

Diluc could see that Ajax was about to say something, but cut him off. “Bedroom,” he panted out, knowing Ajax was thinking the same thing. Ajax let him down and nodded at him, and that was all Diluc needed. He grabbed the man’s hand, almost running through the manor to get to the stairs, zipping through the halls to get to his bedroom. He led Ajax into the room, seeing Ajax kick the door closed behind him, before he was promptly thrown onto his own bed.

Diluc gasped as he bounced back on the bed, his length twitching in his pants. He quickly kicked off his socks and shoes as he saw Ajax doing the same, before Ajax pounced on him. His mouth was everywhere, leaving kisses and bites so quickly that Diluc couldn’t even process it before he would move on to a new spot. His hands moved in a frenzy as well, hastily reaching for Diluc’s hands to strip him of his gloves.

Ajax pulled at the collar of Diluc’s coat, wanting the material off hours ago. The coat was still proving difficult, as he had to get Diluc to work his arms out of it, and Ajax declared the coat his new nemesis. He slowed his mouth leaving marks all along Diluc’s neck, carefully getting Diluc to help him pull his arms out of the offending jacket. He pulled back a bit to let Diluc sit up so he could throw the coat to the ground, Ajax delighted to finally be rid of it.

As happy as he was to be rid of Diluc’s coat, Ajax groaned in annoyance at the sight of more layers of clothing hiding the bare skin he so desperately wanted to see. He did take a moment to appreciate Diluc in his bartending uniform, the black dress shirt and white vest making him look oh so cute when paired with his flushed face and heaving chest. Ajax dived in again, mouthing at Diluc’s neck. “So. Many. Fucking. Layers,” he huffed out into Diluc’s skin, impatiently undoing the buttons of his vest.

Diluc let out a breathless laugh, his breathing still heavy from all the attention Ajax was giving his neck. “I don’t see you- ah. I don’t see you taking anything off,” he panted out, thinking it was a bit unfair that he was the only one being undressed. He let one of his hands move to Ajax’s hip, sliding up to feel the small stretch of skin that was exposed by the cut of his shirt. He let his hand wander further up beneath Ajax’s shirt, sucking in a breath at the feeling of abs and corded muscle.

Ajax hummed against the skin of Diluc’s neck at the feeling of his hand against his own bare skin. “All in good time, baby,” he chuckled, pulling away as he had finally gotten the vest unbuttoned. “For now, I want to see how beautiful you are under all these clothes,” he murmured as rid Diluc of the vest.

Diluc squirmed against the bed as Ajax slowly undid the buttons of his dress shirt, not used to being stared at so intensely. Ajax’s eyes were glued to where his hands were meticulously undoing each button, hungrily eating up every inch of newly revealed skin. Once he undid the last button, he unceremoniously pushed it to Diluc’s sides, putting his entire bare torso on display.

Ajax could do nothing but stare. The man laid out before him was breathtaking, and he wasn’t even fully undressed yet. Ajax wasn’t sure if he would make it through this night alive. But oh it would be such a glorious death. He was so caught up in letting his eyes wander about the wide expanse of skin that he didn’t notice Diluc wriggling his arms out of the sleeves. He only noticed when Diluc sat up a bit to toss the shirt to the floor, his abs clenching deliciously.

Diluc continued to squirm against the sheets, hating that Ajax was staring at him silently for so long. He didn’t find Diluc unattractive, did he? Diluc knew that much of his muscle mass was pretty well hidden beneath his clothes, but without them, there was no hiding it. He prayed to the gods that Ajax didn’t mind his extra bulk. “Ajax,” he whined softly, a small pout to his lips.

Diluc whining his name finally snapped Ajax out of his reverie. “Gods,” he whispered, letting his gloved hands slide up Diluc’s chest, coming to cup the pectoral muscles. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered again, still entranced by the way the flush on Diluc’s cheeks continued down his neck and to his check, covering the pale skin in bright red splotches. His eyes flicked up to Diluc’s face. “Oh, one more thing.” He reached behind Diluc’s head to undo the ponytail that was holding his hair back. After running his fingers through the locks, he leaned back to admire the view.

And what a view he was. Diluc’s face flushed a bright pink, red splotches of blush littering his beautiful pale skin, his chest rising with each breath he took. All of this, framed by a halo of fiery red hair, the curls spilling out and spreading across the sheets.

Ajax’s patience snapped. He dove down to leave a harsh bite at the meat of Diluc’s pectoral muscle, his hands feverishly wanting to map out every dip and curve.

Diluc let out a small “ah-“ at the harsh bite. A high-pitched keening noise ripped from his throat as Ajax laves his tongue over a nipple.

Ajax chuckled through his nose. “Do you like that? Does it feel good?” he murmured into the skin. Diluc let out a whine in response, which simply wouldn’t do, in Ajax’s opinion. “Diluc baby,” he began, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s lips. “I want you to answer me when I ask you something, okay? I need to make sure you’re still comfortable and enjoying this. Need to know what makes you feel good. Think you can do that for me?” He grinned as Diluc nodded his head. “Good boy,” he whispered, planting another soft kiss to Diluc’s lips before making his way down his chest again.

Ajax blew on one of Diluc’s nipples softly, enjoying the way Diluc shivered in response. He took the bud lightly between his teeth before closing his lips around it. Diluc let out a soft moan at the feeling of Ajax’s tongue, his hand flying up to rest on the Harbinger’s shoulder. Ajax pulled back enough to purr, “Now let me ask you again. Does that feel good? Do you like getting your nipples played with?”

Ajax smirked to himself when Diluc nodded his head again, before whimpering out an answer. “Y-yeah... yes, it- fuck- it feels good.” Ajax switched his attention to the man’s other nipple, almost getting thrown off his body from how hard his chest was heaving.

Diluc let out another curse. Ajax pulled his mouth back to watch his hands move across the pale skin. His hands came to rest, cupping under the pectoral muscles and pushing them up and together. “Gods, I fucking love your chest,” Ajax breathed to himself; he knew Diluc could hear him from the way his breath hitched in his throat. “Just like a pair of tits,” he mused, squishing the muscles together. He smirked at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. “So fucking hot...”

Ajax looked up to see that Diluc’s mouth was opening and closing, as if he was trying to say something. “Yes, baby?” he asked, his hands stilling. “Did you want something?”

Diluc nodded, tugging slightly at the material of Ajax’s shirt. “O-off. Please... a-at least the gloves, fuck, please.”

Ajax was now positive he would not survive the night.He couldn’t believe this was Diluc’s first time, not with the way he begged so pretty. He didn’t even need to tell the other to say please. Perhaps he was a natural-born pleaser, Ajax thought to himself.

He snapped his attention back to Diluc when the other tugged at his clothes once more. “Oh, such a good boy, telling me what you want. So polite, too,” he cooed at Diluc. He hummed in consideration for a moment before an idea came to him. He regretfully removed one of his hands from Diluc’s chest, bringing it up to Diluc’s face, the fingertips of his gloves a hairbreadth away from Diluc’s shiny lips. “Would you be so kind as to help me with the gloves, hm?”

Ajax watched in twisted delight as Diluc slowly took the fabric of the middle finger of his glove between his teeth. He pulled his hand back a bit, happy to see Diluc rear his head back, the glove sliding off Ajax’s hand with ease. “Good,” he whispered to himself, taking the glove from Diluc’s mouth. He brought his other hand up, and Diluc helped him out of that glove as well.

Ajax tossed his gloves to the side carelessly, too excited to finally feel Diluc’s skin with his bare hands. He trailed his hands slowly from Diluc’s jaw down his neck, heat pooling in him as Diluc tilted his head further back to allow him more room. He trailed his hands down the other’s chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat, then further down, watching his abs twitch at the featherlight touches.

His hands ended up cupped around Diluc’s pecs once again. His hands massaged the muscle there as he mouthed at the skin. When he heard Diluc let out a pleased sigh, he bit down, gnawing at the muscle between his teeth. The sudden bite caused Diluc to gasp sharply, his eyes flying open to see Ajax’s mouth on his chest. Ajax released the muscle, giving the aggravated area a few licks and kisses to soothe the sting before he smirked up at Diluc. “Do you like me marking up your gorgeous tits? They’re gonna bruise so pretty...” he trailed off, moving to leave a similar bite mark on the other side of Diluc’s chest, a punched out “fuck-“ leaving Diluc’s lips at the sting.

Ajax was mouthing at the newest bite mark when he raised a questioning eyebrow at Diluc. Diluc gulped. “Yes...” he breathed out softly, hoping Ajax could hear him. “Hurts but... f-feels good. P-please don’t st-stop,” he whimpered, moving his free hand to Ajax’s hair in an attempt to keep him in place.

Ajax groaned into the skin of Diluc’s chest, “Gods, you’re such a good boy for me.” He made note of how Diluc’s hips bucked up at that, and filed the thought away for later.

Ajax spent the next few minutes leaving harsh bites all over Diluc’s chest, soothing the mark with kisses each time. Diluc felt as if he was on cloud nine, the deep sting from the initial bite sending electricity up his spine, only for heat to curl in his gut at the kisses left there afterwards. However, he was getting a bit impatient. His dick was rock hard in his pants, and he could feel a wet patch beginning to grow in his boxers. Diluc wanted to get his pants off. Actually, Diluc revised his own thoughts, he wanted to get Ajax out of his clothes even more, the Fatui man not even having shed his shirt yet.

Diluc tightened his hold in Ajax’s hair just slightly, tugging on his shirt with his other hand. “Off... plea- hng- please. W-wanna... wanna see- oh fuck- you too,” Diluc panted out, pleased that he could even get out coherent words at that point.

Ajax would never get tired of hearing Diluc beg. He breathed out a shaky, “Fuck... okay,” before he pulled back enough to tear his shirt off, throwing it who knows where. He could see Diluc eyeing him appreciatively, but didn’t give him much time to enjoy the view before he was kissing the other man senseless.

Diluc groaned into Ajax’s mouth, his hands sliding down the man’s back, finally attaining the skin-on-skin contact he didn’t know he craved. He let his hands wander and feel to make up for what his eyes weren’t able to see. From his exploration, he could tell that the other was covered in scars, both old and new, as well as the fact that he was much stronger than he appeared, corded muscles tense beneath his skin.

Diluc was slightly amused by the fact that Ajax’s hands returned to his chest almost immediately. It made Diluc feel... almost confident, the fact that Ajax seemed to like it so much. So, he arched his back, pushing his chest further into those incessant hands.

“Fuck,” Ajax breathed harshly into Diluc’s mouth. His hands squeezed around the muscles. “So fucking hot,” he panted out, moving to mouth at the other’s jaw. “Bet if I squeezed ‘em together, I could get my dick in between and fuck your tits,” he rambled, words spilling from his mouth before he could really even think about it.

Diluc absolutely keened at that, his head thrown back as a high whine escaped his throat. His reaction only spurred Ajax on. “Yeah? Would you like that baby? Want me to fuck your tits?” he mumbled into Diluc’s skin, the idea almost sending him into a frenzy. Diluc was faring no better. His eyes were pinched shut, pushing his chest out even further, a constant stream of “yes, yes, yes” falling from his lips.

It was only when Diluc desperately ground his hips up into Ajax’s that the Harbinger remembered his main goal for the night. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Maybe later, baby,” he said, chuckling at the small pout Diluc gave him in response. “Definitely later,” he revised, happy to see Diluc perk up at that too. “For now, though,” he trailed his hands down Diluc’s chest, over his abs, and toying with the waistband of his pants. “Let's get you out of these, shall we?”

Diluc was all too eager to lift his hips to help Ajax undress him, any shyness at being bared being overshadowed by his desire. Ajax tossed his pants to the side, eyeing the large bulge in his boxers with a hungry gaze. Diluc let out a breathy whine as Ajax palmed him, finally giving his cock attention. He cursed when Ajax lowered his head to mouth at him through the fabric, hot breath and saliva dampening the material even further. Ajax hummed against his length, breathing out, “Gods, how are you even real?” as his hands slid up Diluc’s thighs.

Diluc cried out as Ajax dug his fingers into the meat of Diluc’s thighs, causing the Harbinger to groan. “Fuck, baby, your thighs,” he whispered reverently against Diluc’s length, feeling it twitch beneath the fabric. He trailed his mouth down to suck a mark into the flesh of the redhead’s inner thigh. “Can I mark ‘em up? Bruise ‘em all nice and pretty to match your tits? Mark ‘em as mine?” Ajax purred.

Diluc sucked in a wet, heaving breath. “Yes, please- oh fuck,” he panted out. He let one of his hands trail to his own chest, pressing his finger into one of the dark red marks that will surely bruise later. “Can you... can you- ah! B-bite? Fuck, please?” Diluc begged, craving the sting of Ajax’s teeth again.

Ajax groaned, reaching a hand down to adjust himself in his pants. “‘Course, baby,” he whispered. He returned his hand, using it to pull Diluc’s boxers off. Diluc squirmed at being fully bare, but Ajax just pressed a sweet kiss to his shaft, his hand wrapped around the base. He let himself begin to ramble as he slowly stroked Diluc’s cock. “Gonna mark up these perfect thighs. Gods, you’re gonna be so bruised tomorrow, you’ll look so gorgeous. Gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Diluc couldn’t stop the near constant stream of moans and whimpers from leaving his lips. The feeling of Ajax’s hand finally on his dick is heavenly, and the man’s whispered words only add fuel to the fire in his gut. He lets out a sharp cry as Ajax’s teeth sink into the meat of his inner thigh, the noise turning into a low groan as Ajax soothes the sting with his tongue.

Ajax only removed his head from between Diluc’s thighs once he was satisfied that the redhead was as marked up as possible. He really hoped Diluc wouldn’t kick him out once they were done, he wanted to see how well all his marks turned into bruises for himself in the morning. He pulled his mouth away from Diluc’s thighs, stroking a finger over the bite-mark covered skin reverently. “These are gonna look so good, baby,” he murmured. “Can’t wait to see you covered in my bruises.”

Diluc whined, his hips jumping as the pace of Ajax’s hand on his cock had slowed significantly. Ajax must have noticed, because he was soon licking small stripes up the entire length. Small cries and high pitched whimpers were ripped from Diluc’s throat. He turned his head to the side, knowing that the sight of Ajax between his thighs with his mouth on his cock could probably make him cum.

Ajax trailed his lips up the shaft, planting a sloppy kiss right at the tip. “Love this fucking cock,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He grinned at the moan Diluc let out. “Want me to suck it? Bet you taste so good,” he rambled, eyes eager to see Diluc’s reaction. “I can usually swallow everything, but you’re so big I might just choke on it.” He delighted in the hitch in Diluc’s breath, the way his hips jumped. “I’d love it though, choking on it. I’d let you gag me with it, ‘til I can’t breathe.”

He grinned evilly as Diluc let out a loud whine. “But maybe later.” With that, he sat up completely, leaving only his hand wrapped loosely around the base of Diluc’s length. He chuckled as Diluc balked at him, having had all the pleasurable sensations ripped away. “Sorry baby, but I gotta ask: do you want to top or bottom?” Ajax desperately wanted to fuck the other man, but since it was his first time, he figured he would let the redhead make the decision.

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes. “Oh, I, um, uh... w-want you to... to, um, f-fuck me,” he stammered out before blearing his throat. “Please.”

Ajax wanted so badly to hop on board with that and absolutely destroy the other man, but he felt it was only fair to give him a warning. “Are you sure, baby? It might hurt a bit,” he said cautiously.

Diluc took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Yes, I’m sure. And I- I... I trust you,” he finished quietly.

Ajax smiled, swooping down to press a soft kiss to Diluc’s forehead. “Alright. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” He planted a final kiss on the tip of Diluc’s nose, watching it scrunch up adorably. He patted the man lightly on the hip. “Turn over onto your stomach for me, baby. Also, lube?”

Diluc’s eyes widened a bit, heat rising to his cheeks before he complied, nodding his head toward the nightstand. As he was turning, he heard Ajax rummaging around through the drawer before closing it and tossing the bottle onto the bed next to him. Ajax grabbed a pillow from the headboard and placed it under his hips, making him flush further at the thought of his ass being put on display. Once he was settled, he grabbed a pillow to hug to his chest, giving himself something to keep his hand occupied with. He heard Ajax chuckle behind him, turning his head to look at the man questioningly, only to hear, “Of course you have a perfect ass as well,” spilling from the Harbinger’s lips.

Diluc jumped slightly when Ajax grabbed his ass without ceremony, a handful of cheek in each. He relaxed once again when Ajax began massaging his ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. He let out a soft hum, content. He didn’t even notice that Ajax had pulled his cheeks apart until he felt a thumb softly run over his hole. He jolted in surprise, making Ajax pull away, a worried look in his eyes. Diluc turned his head to the side, but wouldn’t make eye contact. “Sorry, sorry” he breathed out. “Just... surprised me. Keep going. Please,” he finished weakly.

Ajax wasn’t entirely convinced. “You sure?” he asked, not wanting to cause Diluc any discomfort. Diluc nodded his head eagerly where it lay on the pillow, and Ajax let out a bated breath. He put his hands back on Diluc’s ass, comforted by the way Diluc seemed to immediately relax into the touch. “Have you ever had anything in you before?” he asked quietly.

Diluc turned to hide more of his face into his pillow. “Mmfnhfnggrz” was the muffled response. Ajax could guess as to what was said, but he really wanted to hear Diluc say it himself. He continued to massage Diluc’s asscheeks, thumbs occasionally brushing the skin closer to his crack, but never getting any closer to his hole. “Hm, what was that baby? I couldn’t understand you.”

Ajax grinned as Diluc turned his head to face him more, his face almost as red as his hair, his eyes looking anywhere but at the Harbinger. “I- I’ve used, um... my- my fingers before,” he whispered.

Ajax’s grin morphed into a soft smile, encouraging Diluc to continue. “Mhmm. And how did it feel baby?” He tutted when Diluc buried his head in his pillow again, groaning in shame. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I’m just trying to get more familiar with what your comfort level is. Like I said, I’m gonna make this good for you,” he explained, leaving a trail of soft kisses up Diluc’s spine.

Diluc turned his head to the side once again, his eyes pinching shut. “It felt...” he began, trailing off as he thought about the answer. “Fine,” he answered decisively. “Felt... felt full, it- it was good,” he sighed, the memory of his own fingers inside him fresh in his mind. “But it, uh, w-wasn’t enough to...” he trailed off, hoping Ajax would understand what he meant.

Ajax’s mind was reeling, head filled with thoughts and visions of Diluc desperately trying to fuck himself on his fingers, only to cry out in frustration when he can’t hit that perfect spot inside him. If he could ever get Diluc into bed with him again, he would need to make the redhead ringer himself open for him; Ajax was sure it would be an excellent show.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Diluc’s hips twitched a bit, pushing his ass back into Ajax’s hands. He planted one final kiss to Diluc’s shoulder before sitting up once again. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll see stars,” he chuckled breathlessly, watching as Diluc minutely thrusted into the pillow beneath his hips.

Diluc startled at the snap of the lube cap opening, relaxing again as Ajax pressed a comforting kiss on one of his cheeks. He inhaled sharply as Ajax’s thumbs spread his cheeks apart once more. “Gods, I’d love to eat you out one day,” he heard the Harbinger mumble into his skin, his hips thrusting against the pillow weakly at the thought. Ajax must’ve noticed, for he continued, “Would you like that, baby? Would you let me eat your ass?” As he said it, one of his hands disappeared, only to return moments later, spreading warmed lube across Diluc’s entrance with a thumb.

Diluc’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar feeling of the substance. What wasn’t familiar, however, was the feeling of someone’s else’s hands doing the work. They had barely even started, but Diluc already decided that he liked this much better than doing it himself.

The redhead’s breath escaped him in a shaky exhale as Ajax pushed just the tip of his thumb in, the rim fluttering around the intrusion. Ajax was keeping a keen eye out for any signs of discomfort from Diluc; when he found none, he slowly edged his thumb further in, up to the first knuckle. Diluc let out a quiet moan, his hips pushing back when Ajax stilled. Encouraged, Ajax continued.

He twisted his thumb around a bit, feelings Diluc’s walls stretch around him. He pulled his thumb this way and that, stretching the rim a bit further. Diluc was humming softly, quiet moans falling from his lips every so often. Ajax removed his thumb, smiling at the whine that escaped Diluc’s throat from the loss. He shushed the redhead quietly, leaving soft kisses along his thighs.

Ajax slid his index finger into Diluc, meeting little resistance. He reveled in the moan the man let loose, his volume having increased ever so slightly. He slid his finger in to the base, Diluc’s shoulders tensing a bit. “Doing okay?” Ajax asked softly, stilling his hand.

“Yeah,” Diluc gasped out. “Keep going.”

Ajax nodded softly, despite the fact that Diluc couldn’t actually see him. He slowly pulled his finger out until only the tip remained inside, and was just as slow in pushing it back in. Ajax was doing his best to go slow, despite his desire to just ram into the man below him, but the groan Diluc let out and the way his hips pushed back into his finger were really testing his restraint.

“So fucking good,” Ajax mumbled. He curled his finger a bit inside Diluc, the man letting out a whine. He removed his finger, two returning to Diluc’s hole before the redhead could even protest the loss. He slid his fingers in slowly, two being more of a stretch, pleased when Diluc only pushed his hips back further. “Take my fingers so well,” he murmured reverently. He paused as his fingers met some resistance around his knuckles, pulling them back only to push back in, loosening Diluc’s rim more.

Ajax slowly fucked his two fingers in and out of Diluc’s hole, the redhead letting out wet, panting breaths into the pillow he had clutched to his chest. After a short bit of time doing this, Ajax was able to slide both fingers in entirely, letting out a shaky breath at the delicious groan Diluc let out. He stilled, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of Diluc’s rim clenching around the base of his fingers.

Diluc felt his hips twitch involuntarily in impatience. He turned his head to look at the man behind him, his face partially obscured by his own fiery red curls. “M-move... pl- please, more,” he whimpered out, desperate for the feel of Ajax’s fingers stretching him open.

Ajax let out a low groan as he retracted his fingers slowly. He pushed them back in quickly, grinning at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. He repeated the action, Diluc letting out a low moan this time. He continued this, withdrawing slowly, only to push back in quickly- quickly, but not very rough. At some point, Ajax realized he couldn’t hear Diluc’s noises as well, looking up to find the man biting at his pillow.

Ajax tsked, using his free hand to grab some of Diluc’s hair and pull. A split second after he did it, he thought that he really should’ve been gentler, but the high, unabashed keen that was ripped from Diluc’s throat quelled his worries. He brought his lips down to Diluc’s ear, using the grip in his hair to get Diluc to arch his back just ever so slightly. “Nuh uh, baby. You gotta let me hear those beautiful noises, remember? You need to let me know how good I’m making you feel, hm?” he whispered, grinning dearly when Diluc took in a gulping gasp of air, his head nodding as much as it could with the grip Ajax still had on his hair. “Good boy.” He planted a kiss in Diluc’s hair, rewarding the man by twisting the fingers he still had inside him.

Diluc gasped at the feeling of the fingers inside him twisting, only for them to begin spreading apart, scissoring him open. This was always his favorite part of fingering himself, the feeling of his rim loosening, stretching further. He could never reach very far inside himself, but he did enjoy the feeling of being full. He enjoyed Ajax’s fingers much more than his own, as they were able to fill him as he desired, but they could also reach deep, hitting spots inside Diluc that had never been touched before.

“Feel good?” Ajax asked, snapping Diluc’s attention back to reality. Diluc heard a constant stream of soft whines and deep groans, embarrassed to find that he was the one making those noises. “Love the way you sound,” Ajax murmured, causing Diluc to flush, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as Ajax’s fingers curled inside him. “Yeah, just like that. Gods, so fucking hot.” Ajax slowed his fingers. “Tell me how it feels, baby,” the Harbinger ordered.

“Feels... oh fuck, good, feels so good,” Diluc blurted out, his pride nowhere to be found. “P-please, want- want... ah- want m-more,” he whimpered. “F-feel... mmmn- full, f-fuck. N-need... full, ple- hnngg- please?” Diluc really hoped that Ajax knew what he was begging for, because he sure didn’t know himself. “W-want- FUCK!” He cried out as Ajax curled his fingers just so, pressing against a spot inside him that made him dizzy with pleasure. He almost jackknifed off the bed, but Ajax’s free hand was quick to clamp down on his hip, keeping him firmly in place.

Ajax grinned sharply when he found the redhead’s prostate, his grin only growing at Diluc’s reaction, despite having to hold the man down. He stilled his fingers for a moment, knowing Diluc would need some time to collect himself. “Wh-... what was that?” Diluc asked hoarsely.

Ajax laughed. “That’s your prostate, baby. Really sensitive,” he explained, soothing his thumb over Diluc’s hip as the man was still taking shaky breaths. His grin turned wicked. “I told you I would make you see stars, didn’t I?” He fucked his fingers into Diluc’s hole again at the same angle, basking in the sharp cry that was ripped from Diluc’s throat. “Tell me how good it feels,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their motion.

Diluc had never felt such intense pleasure in his entire life. He felt as if Ajax’s two fingers had fucked the sanity out of him. “So- fuck- so good... yes, fuck, oh gods... m-more, pl- ah- please,” he begged, words spilling from his lips before he could even process what it was that he was even saying. A filthy noise was ripped from Diluc’s throat when Ajax added a third finger, still hitting the same spot inside him. Ajax had been thorough enough that the additional finger didn’t cause any pain, but Diluc reveled in the extra feeling of fullness.

When Ajax switched to keeping his fingers stuffed inside Diluc, fingertips massaging and rubbing circles into that sensitive spot inside him, Diluc’s hips began thrusting. He wasn’t quite sure if he was thrusting back into Ajax’s hands, or forward, rutting his dick into the pillow beneath his hips. All he knew was that he wanted more. As Ajax continued his ministrations with his fingers, Diluc could feel heat pooling in his gut. “Fuck, fuck, gods yes... so- hnngg- so full,” he panted out. “P-please, I’m- ah!- close, fuck, please.”

Ajax’s eyes lit up, hungrily watching Diluc rut between the pillow and his hand. “Yeah? You gonna cum on my fingers? Just from being stuffed full?” he teased sadistically, harshly thrusting his fingers in further for emphasis. He grinned manically, his dick positively leaking in his pants, at the noise Diluc let loose, almost sounding like a sob. Gods, he would love to fuck the redhead to the point of tears. He ground his fingers into Diluc’s prostate insistently. “Be a good boy and cum for me. Cum on my fingers, baby,” he murmured reverently.

Ajax was in awe. There was simply no other word for it. He watched as Diluc rutted into the pillow beneath him, suddenly freezing at his words, body tensed, as he let out a garbled whine high in his throat. The redhead was positively shaking through his orgasm, tremors running through his entire body as Ajax’s fingers worked him through his high. He retracted his fingers carefully once Diluc’s shoulders had finally relaxed again, his body still shaking.

The Harbinger gently coaxed Diluc to roll over onto his back, tossing the soiled pillow off the bed in the process. Ajax fell over top of him, leaving gentle kisses along the skin of his neck. “So wonderful, did so good for me,” he whispered the soothing words. “Perfect, just perfect.”

Diluc worked to open his eyes a fraction from where they were pinched shut, his body still wracked with tremors. “A-aren’t you g-gonna... f-fuck me? Y-you still ha- haven’t...” he trailed off, attempting to weakly gesture toward the rather obvious tent in Ajax’s pants with a shaky hand.

Ajax cooed at him. How sweet of him, he thought to himself. “Oh baby, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Diluc frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “B-but... w-want you t-to fuck me? P-please?”

Ajax groaned at that. “Baby... you’re still going to be so sensitive,” he explained, trailing his fingers down to Diluc’s hips. The way Diluc’s hips twitched even at the light touch proving his point. “Are you sure?”

Diluc nodded his head eagerly. “Y-yes, please. W-want it. Wanna f-feel, feel you.” He could already feel his dick begin to twitch in interest again, and knew that it certainly wouldn’t take very long for him to get hard again.

Ajax sucked in a breath at that. “Gods, you’re incredible,” he whispered softly before continuing, his voice raised so that Diluc could hear. “Alright, baby, I’ll fuck you. You just have to let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?” When Diluc nodded, Ajax all but ripped his own pants off, eager to finally give his dick some attention.

Diluc was trying to angle his head to get a look at what Ajax had been hiding in his pants the whole night, curiosity taking over him, but the sound of the lube cap snapping open once more jolted him. Ajax hung his head over Diluc’s chest, letting out a soft hiss at his dick finally getting some contact. Diluc felt a sticky hand lightly pat the outside of his thigh. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” Ajax asked. Diluc complied, spreading his thighs apart, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he slipped his eyes closed.

Ajax positioned his hands, one on Diluc’s hip, and the other grabbing the back of his thigh, pushing his knee towards his chest. He internally appreciated the flexibility of the man. He positioned the tip of his cock just outside Diluc’s hole, feeling the rim flutter at the contact. “I’ll go slow, okay?” He whispered into Diluc’s neck.

Diluc nodded, not trusting his voice enough to respond. He gasped sharply as the pressure against his rim increased, letting out a breathy cry as he felt the tip of Ajax’s length breach the ring of muscle. Diluc’s hands flew to Ajax’s shoulders once the Harbinger had gotten the head of his cock inside, nails digging into the flesh there. He could barely hear the deep groan that was ripped from Ajax’s throat over his own pounding heartbeat and gasping breaths.

Ajax had to still once he had gotten the head of his dick inside Diluc, worried he might cum if he pressed any further. Diluc was just so tight, wrapped deliciously around him. After taking a moment to collect himself, Ajax pressed further. It was overwhelming. All the punched out little “ah, ah, ah”s Diluc was letting out, the feeling of nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, the heat wrapped around his length, everything was flooding his senses.

He was about three-quarters of the way in when he was finally met with some resistance, Diluc tensing beneath him. Ajax peppered his face with kisses, stroking soothing thumbs over the skin of his hips and thighs. “Shhh, you’re doing so good, baby, so good,” he whispered. “You’re almost there, Diluc, only a little bit left. Don’t you want to take me? Don’t you want to be a good boy and take all of me?” He began slowly moving his length in and out of Diluc, never pushing any deeper.

Diluc sucked in a heaving breath, his chest trembling slightly. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, face positively burning. “K-keep going. Please.” Diluc let out a whimper when Ajax continued to press forward slowly, the stretch slightly uncomfortable, but eventually turning into a twisted form of pleasure that he couldn’t exactly describe.

Ajax’s head fell to Diluc’s shoulder with a moan when he finally bottomed out, drowning out the small whine from Diluc. “Good job, baby,” he panted out. “That’s everything. Can you feel me stretching you out? Tell me how good it feels,” he asked Diluc, needing to take another moment to compose himself before he came immediately.

“I- It’s a lot,” he rasped out. “S-so big, fuck. F-feel so... mmmn- so full.” He wriggled his hips back, wanting to feel more of the length inside him. He stilled once he felt the grip of Ajax’s hands tighten, the one on his thigh digging into a mark the Harbinger had left there. “Y-you can move,” he whispered, giving Ajax permission to do as he pleased.

Ajax groaned as he moved to mouth at the marks on Diluc’s chest, pleased to see that Diluc’s cock was hard once again. He pulled his hips back at a snail’s pace, until only the tip was left inside. He felt Diluc’s hole clench around him. “Baby, I am not gonna last very long,” he laughed out weakly. With that, he slid back in just as slowly, listening to the symphony of Diluc’s whimpers and whines.

After a few thrusts at such a sluggish pace, Diluc began to squirm. “F-faster... pl- ah- please,” he whispered.

Ajax’s patience was stretched thin. He was going so slow, making sure not to hurt Diluc, when all he wanted to do was ram the man into the mattress. He picked up his pace at Diluc’s plea, still going slower than he would like, but it still felt incredible. He swooped to capture Diluc’s lips in a kiss, swallowing all the gasps, grunts, whines, and moans the man let out at the increase in pace.

Eventually, Ajax’s pace had gradually increased to the point where he could hear his hips slapping against Diluc’s own. He tore himself away from the redhead’s mouth, moving to sit up on his knees in between Diluc’s spread legs, taking in the sight before him.

Diluc looked... wrecked. His chest was flushed a deep red, covered in bite marks, and positively heaving with every breath he took. His thighs, also covered in Ajax’s marks, were quivering in the Harbinger’s hold. And his face- wait, Ajax thought to himself.

His expression was obscured, an arm thrown over his face to cover it. Ajax halted his thrusts, keeping himself buried to the hilt. He ground his hips into Diluc’s slowly, taking in Diluc’s low groan. He let go of the man’s thigh, reaching up to grab Diluc’s wrist, pinning it to the bed above his head. “Let me see you, baby,” he cooed. “Wanna see your pretty little faces.” He let out a deep hum, feeling Diluc clench around him. “Gods, love seeing how wrecked you look. All from my cock.”

Diluc whined high in his throat, partially embarrassed at having Ajax see him in such a debauched state. But if he was being honest, he was feeling so good that he began to forget why he even cared. He nodded absently at what Ajax had said, then suddenly threw his head back as the Harbinger resumed his thrusts.

Ajax sped his hips up, pounding into Diluc now. He moved his hand from Diluc’s hip to wrap around the man’s cock, keeping his other hand where it was pinning Diluc’s arm above his head. Diluc cried out at the contact, his head thrashing about. Ajax angled his hips, aiming to hit that spot inside Diluc that made him see stars. He knew he had hit his target once Diluc let out a sob.

Ajax sped up the hand on the redhead’s cock, feral grin growing as he saw a tear spill from where Diluc’s eyes were pinched shut. “F-fuck, yes. I- I’m cl- mmmn- close. ‘M g-gonna cum, fuck.” Diluc’s cries rang through Ajax’s head as he panted harshly.

“Fuck, so tight. Look at you, crying on my cock,” his thrusts became sporadic as he saw more tears sliding down Diluc’s cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Want you to look at me when you cum, make sure you know I’m the one making you feel this good.” He groaned low in his throat when Diluc complied, ruby red eyes opening and locking onto his, hazy and fogged over with pleasure. Ajax watched in awe as more tears spilled over, bottom eyelashes wet and clumped together.

Diluc’s hips bucked into Ajax’s hand, the coil of heat in his gut about to snap. “Fuck,” he whimpered weakly. A sob was ripped from him as he shot his release over Ajax’s hand and across his own stomach, some even reaching his chest. He continued to sob, more tears leaking from his eyes as Ajax continued to stroke him through his high, his cock never stopping it’s thrusting into Diluc’s ass. He thought he could hear Ajax let out something that sounded like a curse, but couldn’t decipher what language it was in.

Ajax continued pounding into Diluc and stroking his dick until the man began to wince and whimper, body wracked in tremors once more. He let go of the man’s cock, spent length flopping into the mess on his stomach. He tore himself from Diluc’s hole; if he hadn’t been about two seconds away from cumming, he would’ve felt bad at the sharp wince he saw from Diluc. However, as it was, his only concern was getting himself off. He crawled his way up Diluc’s body in his knees until he was straddling the man’s ribs. His hand (partially covered in Diluc’s release, Ajax noticed belatedly) flew to his own dick as he began stroking himself desperately.

A filthy groan was ripped from his throat. His hand was flying in his cock, Diluc’s cum making the slide wet and slick. He pitched forward, breath knocked out of him as he saw Diluc’s eyes squint open blearily. His eyes darted to where he was stroking himself, only to notice that beneath his dick (which was an angry red) was Diluc’s chest, marked up with forming bruises and bite marks, a few streaks of pearly white completing the masterpiece.

“Can I- ah- cum on your chest, baby? Get it all messy? All over those pretty marks?” he panted, hoping Diluc would give him permission because he was going to cum within the next ten seconds. He gasped sharply as Diluc nodded, dazed. “Fuck,” he bit out aggressively. “Gonna cum on your pretty tits, baby.” With that, he came, shooting ropes of cum over Diluc’s chest exactly as promised. He took wheezing, gasping breaths of air in as he continued to stroke himself, riding out his high.

Diluc let his eyes slip shut, letting out a content hum as his chest was covered. Ajax hunched over him, dropping his head so that their foreheads were touching. “You did... so good, baby,” Ajax panted out, Diluc preening at the words. Once Ajax released Diluc’s hand that he had pinned to the mattress, Diluc slowly moved it to Ajax’s hair, bringing the man down for a kiss.

It was a rather pathetic kiss, more just panting into each other’s mouths. But it felt oh so intimate, just holding each other close after they both reached their highs, hands softly caressing any skin they could reach.

Ajax fluttered around Diluc’s face, leaving kisses on his skin and whispering praises between each brush of lips. “Such a good boy.” A kiss to Diluc’s temple. “So wonderful.” A kiss to his cheek. “Just beautiful.” A kiss to his forehead. “So perfect for me.” A kiss to his lips.

Ajax took a deep breath, resolving himself to finally sitting up and pulling away from Diluc. He clambered off of the man, eyes darting around the room in hopes to find his (or Diluc’s, honestly) boxers somewhere on the floor. Once he spotted them, he rolled off the bed and snatched them up. As he was pulling them up his legs, he noticed Diluc watching him with a small frown, eyes questioning.

“W- ... what are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice weak. Ajax delighted in hearing how hoarse his voice sounded, the way the words came out slightly raspy.

He finished pulling his boxers on, turning to Diluc with a soft smile. “Gotta get us cleaned up, baby. Bathroom is this way?” he asked, pointing to a door which he assumed led to the bathroom. At Diluc’s small nod, he went in. He couldn’t take in how impressive the bathroom was or how organized Diluc kept his things, too focused on trying to find a washcloth or a towel. After digging through some drawers, he finally found some washcloths. He used one to quickly clean himself up. Grabbing another one, he ran the cloth under warm water, soaking the fabric and wringing it out to make it damp, but not dripping.

He returned to the bedroom, washcloth in hand, to find Diluc slightly more alert, but still pretty out of it. He crawled onto the bed next to Diluc, slowly wiping up the mess on his stomach. As Ajax moved the cloth up to clean his chest, Diluc’s head fell to rest on his shoulder. He planted a kiss to the crown of Diluc’s head once he deemed the man clean. “Do you want some fresh clothes to put on, baby?” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to shock Diluc out of his relaxed state.

Diluc hummed in agreement. “Boxers... Top drawer,” he muttered softly, nodding his head towards a dresser by his closet. He felt immediately cold as soon as Ajax left his side again. He shivered slightly, watching the man rummage through the drawer he pointed out, coming back with a new pair of simple black boxers. Diluc felt his cheeks heat up as Ajax dressed him, pressing kisses to the skin of his legs as he dragged the fabric up.

Diluc sighed in content, happy to have Ajax next to him again. They stayed like that for a while, Diluc’s head resting on Ajax’s chest. Ajax was drawing small patterns into his biceps from where the Harbinger had his arms wrapped around him. They stayed like that until Diluc began to get drowsy, his breaths evening out and his eyes slipping shut. He was sleepy enough that he almost didn’t notice as Ajax slowly removed himself from beneath him, only noticing once he was completely off the bed. His eyes blinked open blearily, seeing Ajax tiptoe around his room in search of his clothes.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Ajax froze, the sound of Diluc’s voice startling him. He turned to the man. “I, uh, gotta grab my clothes. I, um, I figured you’d want me to leave, but I can’t exactly go without-“ he cut himself off as Diluc shook his head, then uttered the one word he had been hoping to hear all night.

“Stay.”

#genshin #genshin imapct #childe #diluc #tartaglia #diluc ragnvindr #genshin childe #genshin diluc #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #childe smut #diluc smut #tartaglia smut #childe x diluc #diluc x childe #chiluc #chiluc smut

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wild-karrde · 3 years ago

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One Step at a Time - Part 1

Master List | Next Chapter

A/N: IT IS TIME! I'm very excited for this fic, and I hope you all are too (even if it is a purely OC fic). I've loved these three since I introduced them (Chuckles and Arni first appeared in 200 Follower Celebration Ficlets, and Nita made her first appearance in “Reunion” and is also featured in one of those ficlets), and I wasn't certain if I'd ever write a fic for just them, but this one has really just been a labor of love from the start. I know this will probably have lower than normal readership since it doesn’t revolve canon characters, but I hope those that do read it love it as much as I do. As always, thank you to the absolutely incredible @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me and encouraging me to write this (while also being a wonderful sounding board for all my ideas). Couldn��t do this without you, TJ! Without further ado...

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 6.6k words

It’s almost over.

Chuckles’s feet felt lighter as he stepped out of his fighter and onto the ladder next to the Z-95 Headhunter, slipping his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. He paused for a moment on the ladder to examine his reflection in the transparisteel of his cockpit viewport. He ran his fingers through his flattened mohawk, trying to stand the colored ends back up from where the helmet had pressed them against his skull. The teal color he’d dyed the tips of his hair a few weeks ago was fading to more of a greenish grey at this point, and his mouth twitched at the hue.

Needs a touch-up soon.

The color had been chosen by his friend Howzer after a lost game of sabacc to “ensure everyone knew who beat him.” Chuck would never admit it, but he’d liked the teal the best of any colors he’d tried during the war. It had looked nice against the magenta and grey of his armor.

Three years, and it might all end today.

When he reached the base of the ladder, he paused, glancing down at the helmet in his hands. His fingers traced the stars he’d painted for each of his fallen brothers on the plastoid, some of them with scratches marring their magenta paint. Turning the helmet, his thumb grazed the single grey star he’d painted on the back of the helmet near its base. He sighed.

Thank the Maker this might all be done. Was running out of real estate for these guys.

A few of the maintenance droids were already rolling towards his fighter, and he gave them one of his lop-sided grins, the scar on the right corner of his mouth tugging against the expression. “Make sure you polish her up good, fellas. By all accounts, it sounds like there’ll be a victory parade shortly.” The droids buzzed and beeped in excitement, the R7 unit spinning in an excited circle. Chuckles grinned, patting its metal dome as he moved past.

What to do with my day off? The possible last day of the war? Maybe I’ll go see that mechanic down in the temple garage. Might be time I finally asked her out to dinner. To celebrate.

Chuck glanced down at his armor before raising his arm and giving his armpit a sniff. The last mission had been shorter than the others, so the stink hadn’t set in yet. He shrugged, deciding not to run by the barracks and change.

Eh, who can say no to a guy in his armor? I showered yesterday anyway.

Reaching down, he made sure his sidearm was still in its holster at his hip before he stepped out of the garage. He’d misplaced the damn thing enough, and he was not about to be reprimanded by some uptight admiral on a day as momentous as this.

The streets of Coruscant were buzzing as usual, but today felt different. There was a charge of excitement that made the air feel electric, as if everyone knew what he did.

News travels fast, I’m sure. Especially good news.

He slipped his helmet back on so that he could monitor the clone comm channels. This was not the day to be out of the loop. He tuned into the main feed, listening to the crackle that was occasionally interrupted by one of the millions of voices that all sounded like his, reporting statuses or giving order updates. If General Kenobi could just handle things on Utapau with the 212th, then it would be all over.

A new beginning.

Chuckles had been created to fight in this war, and with the end of it looming, he wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about his future. If he was honest, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. With as many brothers as he’d lost, he’d just assumed he’d wind up as a star or a hashmark on someone else’s armor at some point, but now, he’d made it.

Beat the odds, I guess. Despite the galaxy’s best efforts.

The columns of the Jedi temple loomed taller as he approached, their towers reaching up to pierce the clear Coruscant sky that was beginning to turn orange and pink as dusk approached. Chuckles nodded to a few of the Jedi stewards as he passed into the gardens that ran along the side of the temple. He loved cutting through them to get to the maintenance garages. Normally, they were filled with masters and padawans meditating or younglings running about, but today, they were uncharacteristically still.

Probably all inside tuned to the feeds like I am. Wonder if General Rancisis is back from Saleucami yet. He’ll want to be here for this.

He paused under one of the larger trees in the garden, his head tilting up to observe the fluttering petals of the blooms that had broken out across the branches since the last time he’d been here. A few of the pale pink petals were caught in the breeze and fluttered downward towards him. Chuckles reached out his glove to catch one of them, smiling to himself underneath his bucket.

“Attention all Coruscant-based troops. Attention all Coruscant-based troops.”

Chuckles paused, listening to the buzzing, monotone voice in his helmet.

“Execute Order 66.”

There was a ringing in his ears before a flash of pain shot across his vision, blinding him for a second as he cursed loudly. His hand flew to the side of his helmet. The petals he’d caught drifted to the ground, his boots crushing them as he tried to steady himself, his knees shaking.

“Execute Order 66.”

Another searing blast emanated from the right side of his head, and Chuckles pressed his hand against the tree as he tried to stay on his feet.

Good soldiers…

He slapped the side of his helmet, trying desperately to clear his mind. His thumb grazed the comm switch, silencing the channel that was just repeating the same directive over and over. Another bolt of pain slammed into him, and he roared a curse. And then, as suddenly as it came, it dissipated. Chuck was crouching down by the tree, bracing his palms against the bark of its trunk as he took several deep steadying breaths. The rushing of his blood in his ears had subsided, giving way to a deafening silence. He rested the forehead of his bucket against the tree as he inhaled deeply once more.

What the kriff was that?

A scream ripped through the silence. Chuckles froze, almost wondering if he had imagined it until he heard another one, unmistakable and a much lower register than the first. And then came the blaster fire. Chuckles ripped his sidearm from its holster, crouching against the tree.

Good soldiers follow…

The pain came roaring back and he gasped, banging on the side of his helmet again.

Come on, get it together, Chuck.

He heard the pounding steps of someone running. Crouching low, he peered around the trunk cautiously. The back door of the temple was open. A blonde human padawan was running from it, making her way across the courtyard, her lightsaber in hand as her dark robes trailed behind her. Suddenly, multiple blaster bolts erupted out of the door. The padawan whirled, and Chuckles could see tears streaming down her face.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” she screamed before another volley of bolts flew through the door. Chuck stood, running towards her as fast as his legs could carry him. He made it through the durasteel decorative gate, sprinting towards the hedges that lined the courtyard the padawan was standing in, but as he went to vault them, one of the branches caught his toe. As he fell forward, his arms flailing, he watched as a blaster bolt caught the padawan in her shoulder. She dropped her lightsaber as another one caught her in the chest, and she collapsed to the ground, her blonde braid trailing behind her.

No.

Chuckles felt bile rise in his throat as he slammed onto his chest behind a set of bushes. The wind was knocked out of him, and before he could struggle to his feet, he froze as three clone troopers in blue and white armor jogged out the door of the temple. They approached the padawan, their blasters trained on her. One of them crouched down, checking her before nodding at the others. Chuckles watched in horror as they abandoned the padawan’s body, retreating into the temple.

What? Why would they do that? She needs help. She needs…did they kill her?

From where he lay, hidden from view, he could see inside the temple now. The unmistakable blur of lightsabers shone down the hallways, deflecting blaster bolts back at more troopers in blue and white armor. Chuckles watched another group of Jedi fall, the troopers stepping over the bodies left in their wake. Pushing himself to his knees, Chuckles lifted his helmet just enough to vomit violently into the bushes.

What the kriff is happening? The temple is under attack. Where did the Seppies get clone armor? How did this many of them get on Coruscant with no one noticing?

He took a deep shuddering breath.

Focus. You need to focus.

He punched the comm on his arm. “This is CT-4311. Does anyone read me?” He was met with silence. In frustration, he punched the comm again. “HELLO? This is CT-4311! I’m at the Jedi temple, and they are under attack by soldiers wearing clone armor. We need as many battalions as we can get down here ASAP.” No response. He banged his vambrace against the ground again. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?” He slapped the switch on his helmet again, tuning to the main comm channel.

Surely this is making the waves.

“Execute Order 66.”

The pain shot through his skull again, and he gasped before switching the comm back off.

What the kriff is going on?

A rustle in a set of bushes off to his left made him jump. Chuckles sprang to his feet, drawing his sidearm and aiming it at the source of the sound.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF.”

The bushes rustled again, closer to him this time, and Chuckles took a step backwards as he tried to put more authority in his voice. “I SAID IDENTIFY YOURSELF.” He gripped the blaster tighter, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.

Hushed whispers carried to him from the foliage. Suddenly, he noted two bright, honey-colored eyes peering at him from between two branches.

It’s a youngling.

He holstered his blaster, squatting back down. “Hey there, can you come out?” He went to take a step forward, but before his heel could hit dirt, a blur of brown and blue stepped in between him and the bush. A yellow lightsaber hummed in front of his face, held by a quivering young blue Twi’lek.

“DON’T TOUCH HER.”

The kid’s face was covered in tear stains, their bottom lip trembling as they dug their teeth in as if that would keep them from dissolving into a sobbing mess. They were mostly blue with a tan birthmark on one side of their face that reached from their chin to just below their eye, almost like a splotch of paint had been flung at them. The kid’s lekku hung down their back, trembling along with the rest of them. They were dressed in a traditional brown Jedi tunic and robe that matched their lekku wrappings and the cap that covered their head, but along their belt were multiple pouches with handwritten labels. Bacta. Bolts. Snacks. I’ll have to ask what kind of snacks later. Chuckles glanced at their face. Can’t be older than twelve, maybe not even that.

“Back up,” the Twi’lek demanded in a quavering voice.

The bushes behind the youngling rustled again, and a small Pantoran emerged. Her silver hair was wound into two messy buns on either side of her head with a few leaves from the bush sticking out of them. She wore a silver tunic that seemed just a little too large for her, her sleeves hiding most of her hands. Her large golden eyes appraised the clone in front of her, but before she could speak, the Twi’lek shoved her behind them. The Pantoran peered at Chuckles from behind her companion’s robes. There was fear in her eyes, but also curiosity. That one’s probably six or seven. Maker alive, what is happening?

Chuckles raised his hands in surrender, sinking into a crouch behind the bushes, blocking them from the view of the door.

“Kid, look-”

“Why?” the Twi’lek demanded. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Doing what?”

“Why are you attacking us? Why are you killing us?” the youngling demanded.

Chuckles stared at them blankly. “It’s not us, kid. Someone must have stolen our armor. We would never-”

“IT IS YOU! I SAW ONE OF THEM TAKE OFF THEIR HELMET!”

Chuckles’s heart thundered in his chest. That can’t be. Why would we attack the Jedi? That doesn’t make any sense. What the kriff is happening? He shook his head. No, focus. I’ve got to get these kids out of here. He made a move towards the Twi’lek, but the youngling brandished their lightsaber as firmly as they could.

“Stay. Back.”

Chuckles noticed the youngling’s eyes were flicking back and forth as they looked at him, and then he remembered he was wearing his helmet. Slowly, he reached for the base of his bucket, sliding it up and over his head and setting it on the ground next to him before he raised his hands once more. The Twi’lek’s face seemed to soften a bit at the sight of a human face staring back at them.

It’s harder to kill something with a face, Chuckles thought.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s happening either. I’m just as scared and confused as you are. But, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to get you out of here, alright?” The Twi’lek appeared to be considering it carefully, their eyes darting to the direction of the screams that were still coming from the temple and then back to Chuckles. Chuck took a deep breath. “I’m not one of them, kid.”

“Arni.” The Pantoran gently tugged on the Twi’lek’s robes. “I think he’s telling the truth. Reach out to him.”

The Twi’lek looked at her for a moment before moistening their lips. “I…I can’t read him without touching him. I haven’t gotten good enough at it yet.”

Chuckles thought for a second before taking his blaster and tossing it near the Twi’lek’s feet. We need to get out of here, but I need them to trust me first. Pulling the binders he had on his belt, he held them up. “I’m gonna put these on, ok? You’ll have to let me out once you’re sure. And if you don’t get the right…read, you can just leave me here, alright?” And then I’ll be on my own. But at least maybe they’ll be safe. Or at least, safer I guess. Before he could overthink it further, Chuckles turned so his back was to the two younglings, slipping the binders over his wrists and locking them in place. He gave them a tug to demonstrate he was locked in. The two younglings whispered again behind him before coming around to stand in front of him. The Twi’lek Arni stepped closer, and with trembling hands, cupped his face. Their palms were sweaty and cold, and Chuck could feel them trembling against his cheeks. Arni closed their eyes, their brows furrowing in concentration. Chuckles closed his eyes as well, feeling a warmth wash over him that seemed to emanate from the kid’s fingertips despite their clamminess. He’d never really experienced the Force before, but he imagined that was what he was feeling now. It was…pleasant.

Suddenly, a rush of memories overtook him. His batchmate with him in a supply closet, drunk and giggling uncontrollably as they tried to stifle their laughter to hide from one of the trainers on Kamino. The first time he flew. The first time he saw a sunset on Bespin, soaring and diving through the pink and gold clouds. The losses. Painting the stars on his helmet. The sobs. The anger. And then, the moment the Twi’lek had stepped out of the bushes. He felt as though he was watching a replay of his life. And then, it was over, and he was staring at the back of his eyelids. His eyes fluttered open, refocusing in the bright light. Arni stood before him, panting.

“You…you’re telling the truth. You’re not one of them.”

“I’m not. Will you let me help get the two of you out of here?”

An explosion rumbled from within the temple, and all three of them turned to see smoke billowing out of the upper windows. Arni moved quickly behind Chuckles, and he felt the binders click and loosen. He sighed in relief as he slapped them back to his belt. Turning, he gripped the Twi’lek’s shoulders, looking in their eyes to try and steady them. I can’t do this without them. I need them with me.

“Arni, right?”

The kid nodded.

“Ok, Arni. I’m Chuckles, but you can call me Chuck.” He turned, extending a hand behind him, which the Pantoran glanced at before looking at Arni. The Twi’lek nodded at her, and the Pantoran slipped her small, pudgy hand into Chuckles’s gloved one. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “What’s your name?”

“Nita,” she said quietly.

“Excellent, we all know each other now. You two have done so well getting this far, and I can get us out of here, but I’m going to need your help, alright?” His words were more certain than he felt.

The two younglings nodded.

“I’m a pilot, so if I can get us to a ship, we’ll be in good shape. Do either of you know if there are any in the garage?”

Arni thought for a moment before nodding. “No fighters, but a few transports and maybe a freighter when I was down there yesterday.”

“Good. Good. Ok, to the garage then. You two stay close to me.” Chuckles reached for his helmet and blaster, sliding the bucket back over his head. It muted the smell of smoke that had started to permeate the air. Quickly, he ushered the two younglings forward, keeping low behind the bushes as they raced towards the garage entrance. After a few minutes, it became apparent Nita was struggling, so Chuckles scooped her up. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re alright.” He felt her tiny hands dig into the fabric of his undersuit at his neck, and he gently pressed his helmet against her head. “You’re gonna be alright.” He looked over to Arni, who was jogging next to him. “If we see anyone, you help me out, ok? That lightsaber will prove pretty handy in a fight.” Arni nodded, but he could still see the tremble in the young Twi’lek’s hands at the thought.

They managed to make it to the garage door. “Can you get us in?” Chuckles asked Arni. The Twi’lek nodded, digging out a slip of flimsi from one of their pouches before setting to work finding the door code punching it into the panel. Chuckles turned his back to the door, scanning the courtyard for any approaching clone troopers. He clicked the stun setting on his blaster. Just in case.

Smoke was billowing from the Jedi temple now, a dark column reaching towards the sky, which felt more blood red than anything at this point, far more menacing than it had been mere minutes before. Chuckles felt himself sigh with relief when he heard the door beep and hiss open. Turning, he nodded at Arni. “Alright kid, lead the way. We need-”

“YOU THERE! STOP.”

Kriff.

Chuckles froze, his breathing growing shallow as he recognized the voice. A brother.

He turned back slowly, his grip tightening on the blaster at his side. Two troopers in blue and white armor were approaching him and the younglings, blasters aimed at them.

“What’s up fellas?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Where are you taking those traitors?”

“To…um…to the prison block. Figured a transport would help me get there faster.”

“They’re marked for execution.”

Chuckles’s breath stuttered in his throat.

“They’re kids,” he rasped. “Just kids.”

“They’re traitors to the Republic and are to be executed.”

What the kriff is going on?

“We’re not killers. We don’t do this,” he said quietly, a plea sneaking into his tone. “Please don’t do this.”

“Put the youngling down.”

Chuckles’s mind raced before coming to the clear decision. Something’s wrong. I have no kriffing idea what, but this is wrong. I have to protect these kids.

“Nita, close your eyes honey, ok?” he whispered.

“Are you not going to comply?” the trooper demanded.

“Arni, stay behind me.” He heard the Twi’lek shuffle in the doorway.

The trooper on his right took a step forward first. Chuck raised his blaster and fired, but rather than the blue stun rings he expected, a lethal bolt erupted from the muzzle. The bolt struck the trooper between the eyes, and his body collapsed limply to the ground, a small trail of smoke snaking from the smoldering hole in his helmet.

I clicked on stun. Why is it not on stun?

The other trooper raised his blaster, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Chuckles shot him in the chest twice. His body hit the ground with a thud, his blaster skittering out of his hand.

I just killed two of my brothers. I set it to stun. Why…how?

It felt as though Chuckles was trapped in the worst nightmare of his life, everything around him sounding muted and muffled. It was far worse than any of the battles he’d relived in his sleep, snapping awake in a cold sweat, but even as he stood rooted to the ground, he knew there would be no waking escape this time.

This can’t be happening. It can’t.

Nita whimpering in his ear pulled him back to the present. He looked at the blaster in his hand, still smoking, and then back at the bodies. He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see Arni staring up at him.

“We’ve got to go,” the youngling whispered.

“Yeah. Yeah we’ve got to go.” He slipped the blaster back into its holster at his hip and wrapped his other arm around Nita, cradling her against his chest. He felt a dampness in the fabric of his undersuit as he stepped into the garage.

“Arni, lock the door behind us. That’ll buy us some time.”

He set the little Pantoran girl down and looked her over. She was trembling, tears streaming down her blue cheeks quietly, but she didn’t seem to be injured. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t cry, but I’m just so scared,” she whimpered.

She shouldn’t have to endure this. She’s just a kid.

“Hey, none of that. You are doing so good, ok? This is scary,” Chuckles soothed, brushing some of her stray hairs out of her face. He paused before taking his helmet off again. “You know what helps me feel brave? Wearing this.” He slid the helmet on her head, and it immediately slipped to her shoulders, far too big for her. “There, do you feel braver?”

The helmet nodded wordlessly, swinging back and forth on her tiny shoulders.

“Alright. You look braver. And cooler.”

“Chuckles, over here!” He looked up to see Arni waving at him from a freighter.

Taking Nita’s hand, he strode towards the ship quickly, appraising it as much as he could from its exterior. Corellian. Small freighter. Should have at least a hyperdrive and looks to have forward cannons for defense. It’s a bucket of bolts, but it’ll do.

“Good stuff kid. I’m gonna take Nita inside and get the pre-flight started. Do you know how to open the main roll-up door?” Gently, he pushed the little Pantoran inside the ship’s hatch.

Arni nodded.

“Can you do that quickly and get back here as fast as you can?”

Arni looked around, their eyes settling on another keypad against the far wall. Chuckles could see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, calculating the risk.

“Hey, I know it’s scary, but I need to get this ship warmed up, or else it’s gonna be another few minutes before we get out of here. Now, can you do it?”

Arni looked back up at him with wide, fearful eyes. The kid had been so brave, but the facade was starting to crack. Chuckles placed his hands on the Twi’lek’s shoulders again.

“I won’t leave without you.” He held out a pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Arni blinked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, for me and my batchmates, this is as good as a blood oath. Now gimme some pinky and let’s get this done.”

Arni gave him a small smile before locking their pinky with his and then turning and sprinting towards the keypad on the wall. Chuckles bolted into the ship, leaving the main hatch open for Arni. Sliding into the pilot seat, he examined the control panel.

Simple enough. Even simpler than a Headhunter.

Glancing over, he saw Nita was sitting in the co-pilot seat, her feet dangling off the front of the chair. The helmet was still perched on her head, watching him as it swung.

“Buckle up, honey. This might get bumpy.”

Chuckles began slamming switches to boot up the flight computer and warm up the hyperdrive. The ship whined to life, the various buttons on the flight console flickering on. Another explosion rocked the building, sending dust falling from the garage’s ceiling.

“HOW WE DOIN’, ARNI?”

He heard a loud mechanical squeal and saw the first traces of Coruscant's waning sunlight filtering in as the garage’s main door began to lift. A few seconds later, he heard a thud as Arni leapt into the ship, slamming the hatch shut behind them.

“They’re coming,” the Twi’lek said quietly.

Chuckles leaned forward to look past Nita, and sure enough, he could see the door they had entered through shuddering under what he could only assume was troopers trying to get in. He turned to Arni, keeping his voice level despite the panic rising within him.

“Buckle Nita into one of the rear seats and then strap in yourself,” he said, standing to reach the exterior light controls before turning to his tiny co-pilot. “Nita, I need Arni up here with me, ok? You’ll have to sit in the back for now in one of the jump seats.”

Nita appeared to consider the proposition. “Can I keep the helmet on?”

“Absolutely. Arni?”

Arni lifted Nita out of the seat clumsily, helping her towards the rear of the ship as Chuck eased the freighter forward, frantically trying to get a feel for the controls. He hadn’t expected the freighter to be as nimble as his fighter of course, but the response felt slower than a stoned bantha, lumbering and clumsy. Chuckles ground his teeth together, trying to gauge just how minute small movements actually were as he piloted the ship around a few stacks of supply crates. Arni slid into the seat next to him just as a blast rocked the rear of the ship. Nita squealed in fear.

“It’s alright honey, just a bit of a bump,” Chuckles called over his shoulder before leaning over to Arni and pointing at a few of the displays on the console. “This thing does have basic shields. I need you to work on getting all power diverted to our aft end. Can you do that?”

The young Twi’lek nodded before they leaned forward, pressing buttons. Chuckles punched a button to bring up a rear camera and swore under his breath. An entire battalion was pouring in behind them, blasters firing at the ship with a few heavies moving into position. “You got it, kid?”

“Yup, almost there.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chuckles could see the displayed mapping of the shields shift, and he gave the Twi’lek a tight smile. “Good. Nice job. Now get strapped in. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.”

As if the galaxy was playing a cruel joke on him, the proximity sensors began screaming. Leaning over, he brought up the radar and swore more loudly this time. “Fighters inbound. You ever work a ship’s gun before?”

Arni’s eyes were wider than saucers. “No.”

“Alright, well the best training is on the job.” Chuckles joked dryly, reaching over past the kid and swinging the controls in front of them. “This is your computer. Helps you aim. You’re too close for torpedoes, so stick to lasers. That’s these buttons here.” He tapped the grey triggers lightly. “When you’re ready to fire, flip this switch so that it’s green. That means the gun’s hot. Then you want to line up your target in this box. If you can get the little ‘x’ over the main body of a ship or a wing, you’ll be in business. Then you give ‘em hell. Clear as mud?”

Arni placed shaking hands on the controls and nodded.

“You’ve got this, Arni. I know you can do it.”

At least I hope so, or we’re all dead.

The Twi’lek nodded wordlessly again. Chuckles didn’t miss the way their throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“Nita, honey do you have a favorite song?” he called into the back.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded tiny, even through the helmet’s modulator.

“Great. I don’t know many songs. Can you sing it for me to help me learn it?”

“Right now?”

“Yup. Right now. I love multitasking, so let’s put on a concert. I hear all Pantorans have great singing voices.”

The ship shuddered again, and Chuckles glanced over at Arni. “Shields are holding in the rear,” the young Twi’lek said quietly, seeming to understand what Chuckles was trying to do.

“Alright, when I tell you, swap the power back so that we’re 75 percent in front, 25 at the rear, got it? We’ll need more power to block fire from the fighters ahead of us, but we can’t leave our back end totally unprotected.”

Arni nodded.

From the rear of the ship, Nita’s tiny voice began to sing.

“I’ve been to many moons and all the stars in the sky

I’ve been to rocky shores where all the fish fly

But all of them pale, yes all of them pale

When compared to my darlin’s sweet, sweet ale.”

Chuckles stifled a nervous giggle. “Nita, where did you hear that?”

She pushed up the helmet to look at him. “One of the troopers was singing it once. I said I liked it, and he taught it to me. His name was Hardcase.”

Chuckles huffed a laugh, noticing Arni watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know many troopers from the 501st, but everyone had known Hardcase.

Still a menace, even beyond the grave, he thought, a smirk creeping across his face.

“Is it a good song?” Nita asked hesitantly.

One of the best drinking songs I know. At least he didn’t teach her the verses.

“It’s great honey, keep singing.” Chuck’s eyes flicked down to the radar blips that were quickly approaching. “Ready to swap the shield power, kid?” he asked Arni quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good. On my count. Three…two…one.”

Arni frantically punched the buttons in front of them just as two fighters swung into view at the mouth of the garage.

“GOT IT!” the Twi’lek said excitedly.

“Great job, kid. You’re doing so well. Alright, remember, flip to green and then shoot. Get it armed. Don’t shoot unless they fire at us first though. There’s still a chance they don’t know we’re trying to get out of here.”

The first fighter immediately began peppering them with laserfire. Chuckles swore under his breath. “Alright, never mind. Shoot ‘em back.”

Arni swallowed hard, but he saw the youngling flip the switch to arm the guns before opening fire. Reaching over, Chuckles slammed the throttle forward. He realized it had grown quiet in the rear of the ship.

“Come on, Nita! Keep singing!”

There was still silence as the ship rocked from a well-placed bolt from one of the fighters.

“Arni?”

“Forward shields still at 68 percent.”

“Good. Keep firing. NITA! Come on! I’ve been to many moons…”

Nita hesitantly joined him, and Arni started singing as well after a few minutes. Chuckles sang louder as alarms began sounding around him, warning him that he was pushing the ship to its limits. Just hold together a bit longer, you kriffin’ rust bucket. You weren’t my first choice either.

Arni gasped next to him, and he redirected his attention to one of the fighters, which now had smoke pouring from one of its wings as it drifted out of view, slowly beginning to spiral downwards. Chuckles let loose a whoop. “YES! That’s the way to shoot, kid.”

“I hope they make it out ok,” Arni said softly, and Chuckles sobered.

“I’m sure they will. They have ejection seats.” His heart broke as he watched the Twi’lek nod, clearly not certain. Reaching up, he pulled down the hyperspace display from above Arni’s head. “Alright, you’ve done good work, but I need another favor. Do you know how to set up a hyperspace jump?”

The Twi’lek stared at the display, their eyes flicking between the various readouts before nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll need coordinates though.”

Chuck’s mind raced as he dodged the fire from the last fighter. I’m gonna have to pull it into a steep climb and then just jettison into hyperspace from the upper atmosphere. I’ll never outrun them otherwise. But where do we go? I don’t know how widespread this is. Can’t take them to a Republic world. Definitely not a Separatist system. No neutral ones close by. There’s… yeah, that’ll work.

Reaching over, he punched in a set of coordinates over Arni’s head. “Use those. Get the calculations started.”

Arni squinted at the coordinates. “Where is that?”

“A safe spot,” Chuckles replied. “Just trust me.”

Arni looked at him for another few seconds before nodding, beginning to program the computer for the jump calculation. Nita had looped back through the chorus of her drinking song again, and as Chuckles cast a quick glance over his shoulder, he grinned at the tiny Pantoran, swaying back and forth with his helmet on, the base of it swinging back and forth as she moved. The ship rocked from another blast, and her voice faltered, but Arni took up the chorus louder, and she joined in again. Chuckles gave the Twi’lek a grateful smile before rolling the ship hard to the right.

“HANG ON, KIDS! Arni, let me know the second we’re good for the jump.”

“Another few seconds. We’re close.”

The ship shuddered.

“Rear shields are failing,” Arni stated, fear starting to trickle back into their tone.

“Don’t worry about them. Keep working the calcs. Won’t need the shields when we jump out of here.”

Chuck yanked the ship’s yoke hard, pulling the freighter into a tight turn that kept the front of the ship facing towards the other fighter and swinging around so that the fighter was forced to circle back towards the garage, keeping all sources of fire in front of the freighter. Leaning over, he threw a switch to reverse the thrust of the engines, pushing the ship backwards.

“You’re in a speeder lane!” Arni said urgently. “You might hit someone!”

“I’m bigger and they’re faster. They’ll get out of the way,” Chuckles said as casually as he could. “How much time?”

“Five seconds.”

“Give me a countdown.”

“Five…four…three…”

Chuckles flipped the direction of the thrust again, pulling back on the yoke with all of his might and sending the ship skyward. He pushed the engine to its max, searching for a clear hole in the speeder lanes to shoot through.

“Two…”

The clone pilot could feel his teeth creaking as he ground them together. Glancing at the radar that showed the orbiting ships, he held his breath. Just need our trajectory to stay clear for another few seconds.

The ship jolted. Nita screamed.

“ARNI! NOW!”

Chuckles felt the familiar pull of his stomach pushing to the back of his chest cavity as the hyperdrive whined to life, pressing him back in his seat. Coruscant’s sky seemed to smear past the viewports as the engines began to roar, the sky rushing towards them. Chuck closed his eyes and exhaled.

Please let this work.

In between heartbeats, he felt the pressure on his chest ease as the ship stopped accelerating, the roar around them fading to a steady hum. Chuck opened his eyes slowly, and felt his body almost sag into the chair in relief at the familiar sight of blue and white star streaks of hyperspace that were rushing past them. Turning his head, he looked at the Twi’lek next to him. Arni was still clutching the guns so hard their knuckles were pale, visibly quivering. Chuckles climbed out of his seat, flicking the safety back onto the guns before gently removing Arni’s hands from the triggers and pushing the weapons controls away. The Twi’lek had a dazed expression as they looked at him, their eyes somewhat blank as Chuckles spun their chair to face him.

“You did good, kid. You did exactly what you needed to do to get us out of there, alright?” Chuck said quietly, resting his hands on Arni’s shoulders. The youngling nodded slowly, swallowing hard again.

“What do we do now?” they asked quietly.

Chuckles took a deep breath, exhaling it in a deep sigh. “I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out.”

Arni bobbed their head, but their eyes were glued to the floor of the ship.

Unsure of what else to do, Chuck searched for the right words. “Hey, look at me.”

Arni met his gaze, their wide brown eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Do you trust me, kid?”

Arni’s eyes became focused as they studied the clone crouched in front of them. After a few seconds, they nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need you and little one back there to help me. We’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.”

“Why did your brothers want to kill us?”

The memory of the smoking hole in the front of the trooper’s helmet flashed in Chuckles’s mind again, and he blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tightness that suddenly began squeezing his chest.

Keep it together in front of the kids. Focus.

“I don’t know, kid. It doesn’t make any sense. But I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you and Nita. Alright?” He held out his pinky again, and a small smile tugged at one corner of Arni’s mouth. They wrapped their thin blue pinky around Chuckles’s thicker, gloved one.

“Alright.”

The sound of coughing made them both turn and Chuckles grimaced as he took in the sight of Nita holding his helmet in front of her as she vomited into it.

“I’m sorry. The ship made my tummy upset,” she said softly after she finished retching.

Chuckles ran his fingers through his mohawk again, giving her a small smile. “It’s ok, honey. We’ll get it cleaned up. Definitely my fault for flying like a drunken mynock.”

The little Pantoran giggled before tilting her head back down and emptying the rest of her stomach contents into his bucket.

Chuckles sighed.

One step at a time.

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