#lethargic-hunter

[chaoticxbeast]

Mikey stuck out, just like his brothers, but he had no problem being different. He was overjoyed just to be himself, wholly and fully, saturated colors and all.

Mikey was the kinda guy who seemed happy no matter what, together with others, or on his own. Getting a bad grade or getting told off by the teacher for not paying attention, it didn´t bring him down for long.

It was like he was watching movies in his head or being lost in his own warm thoughts of the world around him. Shoot him a smile and you made his day. Heck the smile didn´t even need to be intended for him. As long as could see someone smiling at someone—he felt good.

While the mutant brothers were typically known for their heroics and bravery, Mikey was pretty happy just having a good time, either sitting around and listening to some fun jazzy hip hop, or having fun getting to know new people. He had a string of friends already, but his goal was to know absolutely everyone.

Currently he was sitting on the stairs leading into east side community high school, adordning a bright cyan blue hoodie, and white pants, orange sneakers, Big orange headphones rested over his earholes, streaming a jazzy tune that swayed effortlessly between smooth beats and a silky vocal melody. He bobbed his head gently to the rythm, with a sleepy look in his eye, lost in the lyrics and the silky voice of the singer.

The way people walked past him, up and down the stairs, gave him a quiet sense of contentment and belonging. He imagined them going to classes, making friends, and learning things. He didn´t feel lonely, he was just enjoying moments, the sky, the other teenagers, and the way the red and orange leaves danced in the sunlight filtering through the trees.

He was getting late for class though.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀 .

# with trafalgar water d. law.

despite the overextended manner with which law behaved, and the fatigue that crept into his soul due to his tendencies of avoiding a decent rest, sleep could not find him in the slightest. when his insomnia lurked around the corner, law could always count on your mouth to tire him out.

⎰ & smut (mdni!) gn!reader. oral (male!receiving). deepthroating. praise kink. no y/n used.

W.C: 2K.

the incessant ticking of the obstinate clock on the wall had the opposite effect of what was meant to be soothing. law had quit on writing the reports that dwelled on his mind, finding that his grip on the pen was unusually harsh — and enough to split it in two. law wasn’t against the vision of black ink on his skin — the tattoos on his body were enough proof of that — yet, when the ink that stained his palm was born from the destruction of one quite expensive and favored pen, pleased was the last adjective he’d use.

he scrubbed his eyes with the cleaner fingers, shutting them with a sense of bubbling rage born from intrinsic exhaustion. the strained muscles of his back began to ache an hour ago. he failed to concentrate on even the smallest of details, his synapses so lethargic he’d probably end up writing their instead of there in his paper. law clenched his jaw; stressed, sleep-deprived, and frustrated.

bepo had knocked on his door ten minutes prior — for the fifth time that night — with the same advice prepared. law’s answer remained equal, empty promises and meaningless deadlines that he had no intention on following. it was but a matter of time until the navigator pulled out his secret weapon, or that was, at least, how you were called under that context.

law sent a piercing gaze towards the closed door, fidgeting and quietly begging for your intervention, as though a religious fool who placed his trust on the force of manifestations. he thought of seeking you out himself, hours prior. yet, during instances drawn to his duties, law was but a rooted tree lost amidst a vexing fog, incapable of moving even one miserable inch; hence the urge to have you. his refugee; his medicine. the surgeon of death — more than a billion-worth bounty hovering over his head —, had succumbed to both the plague and blessing of love. with his head nearing the table’s surface, a weary sigh past his lips, law pictured your face and found that he would have fallen victim to such a feeling a thousand times over, so long as that meant claiming you his.

he heard the scratch of the door against the ground, and perked up upon the knowledge of, at last, having you in his office — for no other crewmate was allowed to barge in without a warning knock.

you walked towards him — slowly —, your hips swaying, malice-filled eyes. law felt but a prey under the gaze of its hunter; one left with a sense of gratitude upon the approach of the searing and delicious taste of death’s kiss.

you sat on the edge of his desk, careful as not to meddle with his papers, and softly removed his hat to caress the disheveled locks of black hair. law surrendered to your touch, sighing with relief.

“it’s getting late,” you stated, drawing circles on his cheek. law intertwined his fingers with your own, pressing his lips to the back of your hand.

“can’t sleep,” he answered, chasing your scent; drowning his nose on the skin of your wrist.

law glanced up at you, enamored. you tilted your head to the side, gears turning as you deconstructed his sentence and stance, figuring the innuendo underneath. there were moments in which his restlessness was a product of his past. from the plague, to the death of cora-san, nightmares hunted him down as though starved beasts aiming at a dying creature. however, in other instances — such as the current one — law was but too overworked to fall asleep. whatever the context of the disease, the cure remained the same: your touch.

you moved to the back of his chair, massaging his shoulders. law relaxed, leaning his head back with a low groan. your lips hovered above his jaw, the tip of your tongue darting out to lick a stripe on his skin. your fingers lost themselves under the fabric of his coat, re-drawing the patterns of the tattoo on his chest.

“and how should i cure your problem, doctor? hands or mouth?”

law breathed out heavily upon the hearing of his title, sounding oh-so-sinfully on your tongue. he cleared his throat. “mouth. doctor’s orders.”

you hummed. law watched through half-lidded eyes as you knelt and crawled under the table, the brief sight of your ass enough to harden his neglected cock. he unzipped his pants, not having the patience for the teasing you, for sure, had in mind.

“getting hasty?” you teased, and law moved in his chair, pressing his crotch closer to where — he guessed — your face was.

“get on with it,” he bit back, searching for the back of your head.

when law did find it, he froze. under his palm was the familiar texture of his hat. the thought of having you wear it, with your face stuffed with his cock, made him desperate. a shambles followed-in-suit to a room, and the desk that had once hidden you from his glance was moved to the other side of the office, papers and pens and books falling over. law ignored the sound and the chaos, forcing your face against his covered erection, eyes trailed to that damned hat.

you pushed his underwear enough to free his cock from its cuffs; your hand gripping it before it had the chance to meet his abdomen. law all but shuddered, one hand gripping his chair as the other bruised the skin of your nape. your movements were slow at first. your thumb rolled over the tip and smeared his pre-cum over his shaft, causing his hips to buckle ever-so-slightly. before law could repeat his command, you moved forward, licking the essence coating his tip and encasing it in your mouth. law gasped, keeping his palm on your head and gritting his teeth at the warmth of your tongue.

“shit,” he cursed, biting the inside of his mouth to avoid louder noises, tasting the metal of blood.

your eyes narrowed, and he could see the resolve in them; the utter determination to tear him in pieces. you sucked, savoring the salty taste before beginning to slide down; another hand clawing down a clothed thigh. law huffed at the sight of you. your eyes had rolled with pleasure when you swallowed him down to the base, his hat secured on your head. with a jolt of overwhelming desire, law rolled his hips up to make you gag.

your head moved on its own, a futile attempt to free itself and retreat. he pushed it back, forcing your nose to brush against his pubes, witnessing the tears pooling in your eyes.

“you can take me,” he stated, hissing for a second at the swirling of your tongue. “you always do— ngh. take me so well, love.”

you hummed, relaxing for a second. law’s glance met yours, and his grip laxed at last, allowing you to take over. you popped off his tip with a gasp, mouth open, briefly regaining the lost air. your hand jerked his shaft, replaced by a sudden lick that traveled from the base to the head in one long stripe. you teased him with the sight of your cock against your hanging tongue; allowing his eyes the grace of his pre-cum latched on the warm muscle.

law trembled, his chest heaving at the swirling movements around his tip. “so gorgeous, make me wanna stuff you so bad, love.”

a whimper spilled from your lips before claiming his shaft yet again. law buckled his hips mid-shout, reprimanding himself for the sound. your hand gripped one of his balls, and the settled pace — with the bobbing of your head —, had him gasping.

he shoved himself down your throat, gripping the edge of his hat. saliva dripped down your opened mouth; hollowed cheeks increasing the pressure around his cock.

“that’s it,” he moaned, rolling his hips as his tip hit the back of your throat.

law felt the muffled whimper around his shaft, transfixed on the sight of your stuffed cheeks; the watery eyes that stared back into his. the room was filled with the erotic, borderline sinful, sounds of your gags; the constant bobbing of your head coating his cock with saliva. law buckled his hips, and your nails dug on his thigh, fingers tugging at the fabric of his pants as you audibly choked. with a harsh grip, he pulled your head back, giving you a few, precious seconds to breathe.

“look at you,” he voiced out in awe. “willing to empty your lungs for the sake of my pleasure.”

law guided his cock closer, fingers curling under his hat and nails digging into your head. “open up, love. just like that.”

your tongue darted out, and he slapped your cheeks with his tip, struggling to drown the urge to cum at the sound of your whimpers; the sight of you, following the movements of his cock with desperate-filled eyes, as though you could not wait to take him again. law placed himself at the entrance of your awaiting mouth, breathing out a moan.

“so pretty like that, all fucked up,” he mused, groaning once your lips claimed him yet again. “fuck, that mouth was made for me.”

the responding moan resonated around him, and law arched his back against the chair, feeling hot under the layers of his coat. his head latched itself on the back of your throat, and the harsh grip on his balls had him on edge. law’s voice sounded pathetic to his own ears when your tongue teased the underside of his dick, his movements growing hectic.

��i’m gonna cum,” he warned through a grunt, struggling to keep his eyes open and glued to your face.

you let out a muffled whimper, begging for it; your mouth nothing but a ruthless lover, swallowing him whole, yet demanding more. his hat fell from your head, and law lost his sense of self, whimpering at his release; his cum painting your throat white, stealing the breath from your lungs. law held you there, spasming with weakened and hectic thrusts throughout his orgasm, crumbling down to ruins as he bore witness to droplets of his essence escaping past the gaps of your stretched lips.

“let me see,” he mumbled, exhausted at the expanse of his own height.

with a teasing, edging suck, you pulled your head back with a pop. a stripe of saliva and cum connected his tip to your lips, and when you opened your mouth to spare him a sight of your whitened tongue, law’s fingers weakly gripped your chin, beckoning you closer.

dried blood lingered on the inside of his mouth, and mingled with the taste of his own seed. his teeth clashed against yours. a meek note of the coffee he drank priorly settled in between. yet, it was one of the best kisses he ever had.

“thank you,” law mumbled, an exhausted and dangling man nearing the edge of a lethal cliff. a soaring feather that remained tethered to the earth as a consequence of your tender grip.

you hummed, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek while zipping his pants. “cured enough to sleep, doctor?”

he smiled — enamored; sweet —, the particular showcase of teeth, born from the devotion directed towards you. the spark on his chest whose light was born from your mere presence. his hat clung to your figure, and law had half the mind to use his devil-fruit to teleport the both of you to his bed, before crumbling against the mattress, blindly searching for your chest.

law pressed his thigh against your core, lazily motioning for you to rub yourself against the fabric. a small giggle echoed through the walls, a sound he wished to steal and seal; a selfish shell of a man who had no desire to share a single thing related to his lover whatsoever.

“there’s no need for that. sleep,” you whispered, caressing his hair. law hugged your waist; drowned his face in your chest.

“want you to feel good,” law insisted, sleep-drunk, drooling on your bare flesh.

“too tired,” you voiced out matter-of-factly. whether he was the subject of such a statement or not, he failed to tell. law fell under the influence of slumber the second thereafter, sheltered in the confines of a loving dome whose barriers were sealed from the looming insomnia outside.

— 🐈‍⬛ : IT’S FUCKING LAW STUPID FRIDAY LET’S GO.

[mrsshabana]

𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Your body is at its breaking point, and the full moon isn't even over yet. All you hope is that you can make it through the night. But even if you do, things between you and Gyutaro will never be the same. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, hunter/prey, size difference, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, biting/marking, knotting, pregnancy ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.1k words

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter one ⇢ Chapter two ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

Panic begins to set in as you realize the situation you're in. If he stays inside of you like this, there's no doubt that you'll get pregnant. That is the whole point of a knot after all.

His body presses down on you but you try your best to wiggle away without hurting him, moving your hips in an attempt to slide him out.

Gyutaro begins to snarl behind you, his claws digging into the ground beside your face.

His growls only intensify the more you move.

"O-Ok Gyu, I'm sorry... I'll stop," you whimper. Feeling afraid that you angered him, so not wanting him to lash out you stop moving completely.

But instead of trying to remove him from your sore cunt, it seems your movements had an adverse effect. As you swear you can feel him expanding even more inside of you. The way you wiggled around beneath him only made him hornier.

He begins bucking his hips, desperately trying to bully his cock deeper inside of you. But it's already stretching you past your limits, unable to go any deeper. Getting frustrated, his thrusts intensify. He wants to fuck you again so bad, but his knot won't allow him to pull back so he can plunge into you again. Only able to nudge against your tight walls, barely catching the friction he desires.

But the way you squeeze around his growing knot makes up for the lack of friction. Feeling the way you tightly clench around him makes him go insane, his cock already twitching in preparation for shooting another heavy load inside of you.

You hold onto his wrists as his body rocks on top of you. Trapped beneath the weight of him, there isn't much you can do. A moaning and quaking mess as he ferociously tries to breed you once again.

Your stomach already feels impossibly full, you know you can't take anymore. "G-Gyu please... ah, I can't! No m-more!" you beg.

But your pleas go unheard as he's already past his breaking point. His hips pushed so hard against your ass that you legitimately think it might bruise.

His body shudders and he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. You feel the pressure inside of you increase as he fills you up even more. Satisfied whines escape him, echoing off of the cave walls.

The pressure gets unbearably uncomfortable to the point where you can no longer move. Gyutaro gently nuzzles against you and licks the back of your neck, being sweet and affectionate as if to tell you that you did a good job. That you're such a good girl for him.

He's so busy giving you affection that he doesn't even realize you've already passed out. Eventually, his knot deflates and he can safely slide out of you.

Feeling a deep connection after what the two of you just shared, Gyutaro holds you against his chest and caresses you in his arms. Giving you soft licks and kisses on your face until inevitably falling asleep as well.

༶•┈┈⛧┈┈⛧┈┈•༶

As the full moon sets, the sun begins to rise - waking Gyutaro from the peaceful slumber he was in.

It's hard to explain but he wakes up feeling complete. Like last night he found a piece of himself that he didn't know he was missing. He feels lethargic, but really happy and calm at the same time.

Before he can even look around at his surroundings he picks up on an unusual scent. The scent of mating - he reeks of it.

And that's when he finally notices you lying beside him, and all the memories from last night come flooding back. Now that the full moon has passed, he can think rationally. Deep down he feels so guilty about what happened, but he can't help but feel ecstatic that he finally made you his mate.

Sex is very different for humans than it is for werewolves, it's not as meaningful and symbolic. Werewolves typically don't mate with just anyone, it has to be someone they feel a special connection to. Someone who they are ready to spend the rest of their lives with. And Gyutaro didn't need to know you for very long to know that you were the one for him.

The urge to make you his mate was so hard to hold back, but he did it for you. But when the full moon came he gave in to his primal urges and claimed you as his. He feels a sense of fulfillment and bliss knowing that he can call you his mate.

"Y/N..." he whispers, nudging your shoulder.

You don't budge so he starts licking your face, his tail wagging excitedly behind him. That cute golden retriever energy finally showing through now that the full moon is gone.

"C'mon Y/N! Time to wake up!"

The wet tongue gliding across your face finally wakes you from your slumber. "Ngh... Gyu?" You rub your eyes, making sure that he's actually real.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" he smiles. You can't help but stare at that quirky smile full of sharp teeth, those fluffy black ears, and that happily wagging tail. Everything that makes him different, everything that you love so very much about him.

So happy to see him back to his old self, you hug him tightly, feeling like you could cry.

He possessively wraps his arms around you, "I'm sorry about last night, I wanted our first time to be more tame since you're a human..."

"I-It's ok," you mutter, "I liked it..."

His eyes widen, "You did?"

"I did," you nod, "It was scary at first, but I knew what I was getting into when I chose to be with you."

"Y/N... you know I love you, right?" He grins and hugs you tighter, "We'll have to do it again after the pups are born."

"I love you too Gy- wait... the what?"

"Haha, don't act surprised! Do you really think there's a chance you aren't pregnant after last night?"

You're at a loss for words, the thought of actually getting pregnant by a werewolf feels so foreign to you. But he's right, it shouldn't be unexpected after what happened.

"Don't worry, Y/N," he smirks, "You're gonna look so pretty with my pups inside of you... I can't wait to get you pregnant over and over again."

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Spiced Hot Chocolate | Halloween Special

Hehehe it's Halloween bby! Began writing these about a week ago after being inspired by a friend! Hope you enjoy the first of four fics I've written featuring a vampire!reader (who's still the MC). The others will be posted throughout the day.

❧ Pairings: Xavier x Reader ❧ Warnings: Suggestive themes, blood sucking, vampire reader ❧ Synopsis: You had run out of blood bags a while ago, and you were lethargic and hungry. Xavier hated seeing you like this, so of course he'd offer his neck up to you. ❧ Word Count: 2.8k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Spiced Hot Chocolate

Xavier was used to you having a life, especially after the sunset. Seeing you going into his apartment after sleeping the entire day away, asking him what he wanted to do before he himself went to sleep. Normally, it is watching movies or reading books. Just spending the evening together until sleep finally called to him. Oftentimes, he’d be asleep in your arms, nestled up against you as you continued doom-scrolling on your phone until you decided to head out or went to do your night shift for work.

One good thing about being a hunter was that wanderers didn’t discriminate on the days they attacked, so they often needed people to work overnight. You happened to be on the night shift while Xavier flip-flopped on the time of day he worked, often wanting to work nights alongside you.

Tonight was different, though. As per usual, you came over to his apartment as soon as the sun started to set beyond the horizon. Your movements were more sluggish, though; your eyes lidded as you almost stumbled into his apartment. It was like you hadn’t slept at all, and the bags under your eyes didn’t help your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t even bothered getting changed, still in a large hoodie that you stole from him months ago and a pair of shorts. You didn’t even put on shoes before climbing to his balcony and entering through that door.

“Hello to you as well,” Xavier said, his voice softer than usual as he watched you flop next to him on the couch. He had been lying down with his legs propped up, reading a new book that you had suggested he got into. Your head found his chest as you crawled over his body and nuzzled into his side, “Is everything alright?”

You let out a small groan, not knowing how to put it into words. You absolutely were not doing alright this evening. Even the setting sun had been irritating you, almost burning your skin as you had come over. Your throat was dry, and you knew your voice would be a bit hoarser than normal, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“M’fine, tired…” you murmured out, hugging his waist as you buried yourself into his chest. His own soft cardigan felt so nice against your cold skin, almost warming up your dead body as he placed an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“I’ve seen you tired before; this seems different.” Xavier pointed out, “Come on, you know you can tell me. Maybe I can help.” He offered his hand, now going to your hair and gently scratching at your scalp. It was a nice, relaxing feeling as you let out a content moan, nuzzling your face deeper into him.

You didn’t often like to complain about your…situation. Being a vampire has a lot of advantages, especially in your line of work. It did come with a lot of disadvantages as well, though. You wanted to protect the citizens of Linkon City from everything, including yourself. You refused to feed on others, instead opting to go to your friend Zayne for blood bags. He was one of the few people who knew about your…predicament due to the Hunter’s Association needing you to go into check-ups. He provided blood for you, and in return, you always brought him macaroons.

It was a fair exchange in your eyes; the only issue was you hadn’t had time to head to the hospital for your ‘blood transfusions.’ You had been too busy, and therefore, you hadn’t had any blood for days. You were literally starving, and while it wouldn’t kill you, it did weaken you tremendously. You were lethargic and couldn’t think straight, and as a result, you were also grumpy.

“Thirsty…” you finally got out, followed by some coughs. This got Xavier’s attention immediately. The entire time he had known you, he knew you never had issues with getting blood. He had never seen you like this, and he felt the grips of anxiety overtaking his chest as he repositioned you so he could see your face.

His hand gently cupped your cheek as he gave you a concerned look, “Don’t you have blood bags in your fridge? Did you need to grab some for you?” he asked, already looking for solutions. You just shook your head and sighed, closing your eyes and relaxing against his palm.

“No, don’t have those right now…” you said, then yawned, “Just need sleep.”

Xavier knew you were already, in the most technical sense, dead, but it didn’t stop him from worrying that if you closed your eyes, you wouldn’t wake up again. Honestly, it was a fair worry; if your kind was starved enough, you essentially went into a coma until blood dripped into your mouth. Upon awakening, you could be…feral for a while until you’ve had your fill. You weren’t at that point yet, not even close, and you had already messaged Zayne to let him know you’d be stopping by the hospital tomorrow for some bags.

Xavier was silent for a few moments before taking in a deep breath, “If you’re that hungry, you could always feed from me.” He offered. This time, your eyes shot open as you looked at him as though he had said the most scandalous thing known to man.

“Absolutely not.” You said, almost glaring at him, “You know I don’t feed from…people. It hurts them, and sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’ve taken so much due to…” it felt good. A vampire’s bite was many things. Painful? Yes. But there was a venom in their fangs, something that made their victims feel euphoric. It was to the point where sometimes they didn’t even know they lost too much blood until it was too late. You hadn’t fed on another person in a long time, so you weren’t confident you’d be able to tell when it was too much.

Then there was the other issue.

The thrall issue.

Feeding on a human and leaving them alive left them essentially a thrall. A walking blood bag for the vampire to feed on. The effects weren’t permanent; normally, it would go away within a few days if the vampire didn’t feed directly from them. It still left their victim feeling certain ways, though. Xavier was already protective of you and attuned to your emotions; this would make it stronger until the effects were gone. You had explained this many times to him, but he never seemed to care.

“You’re starving, though. It’ll be fine; we don’t have to make it a regular thing, but I don’t like seeing you like this.” Xavier said, his voice so gently as he caressed your cheek. “I’ll be fine; I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” He promised.

“You say that, but you’ve never been bit before. How do you know you’ll be able to tell me when it’s too much?” you said with a huff, looking at your adorable and helpful boyfriend. How dare he be so caring and gentle with you. Didn’t he know you were literally a monster from someone’s nightmares?

“I won’t force you, but I want you to eat. I’ll go to the hospital right now and get you some blood bags if you won’t feed from me.” Xavier said, and you let out an almost pathetic whine. He was being so sweet again, and it was making you melt, as usual. “I don’t want to see you suffer if I can do something to help you.”

You thought about it for a little bit. You could smell him so well from his angle; your nose was pressed against his skin, and you could get the faint whiff of his blood. You bet it would be sweet, just like him, and maybe a little spicy. Just like chocolate with some peppers mixed into it. You remember having that before as a human, and it had been an oddly nice combination. The warmth that emanated from him, the sound of his heartbeat, it was all almost intoxicating.

Of course, you had thought about it before; what vampire wouldn’t think about feeding on their loving partner? It didn’t mean you truly wanted to do it, though. You’d never want to cause this man any pain, but it looks like starving was doing just that but on an emotional level.

You took in another deep breath of his scent and groaned, “Fine…but you have to promise me the moment you feel light-headed to tell me. I’m fully capable of stopping.” You weren’t a blood-crazed vampire. You could stop at any point. Hell, maybe all you’d do is get a little taste, just enough to tide you over till tomorrow.

“I promise I’ll let you know right away,” Xavier said, and you felt yourself relax. You got a little bit closer to him and nuzzled into his neck, picking up on the sweet notes that were him once more. You pressed a kiss to his neck, making him gasp as he looked down at you. You never would forget when he admitted his neck being sensitive, and you always adored kissing him there.

“Is the neck alright? I can feed from your wrist or even your thigh if you’re fine with that.” You said, wanting this to be a comfortable experience for him.

“The neck is fine. This position is fine…are you okay with it?” he asked, his hand going to rub at your hip. He adjusted his other arm to slot under your head to prop it up and give you a better angle.

You pressed another featherlight kiss to the skin there, and he fought back another gasp at the almost tickling sensation of your mouth. “This is fine for me.” Another light peck had him sighing now. You couldn’t help yourself, moving slightly to press your lips on the front of his throat now, sucking slightly.

Xavier’s grip on your hip got a little tighter at that, “I didn’t know you’d be teasing me.” A light chuckle escaped him, and you giggled as you pressed another kiss. You loved kissing this man, watching his reactions, how he squirmed underneath you.

Finally, you let your fangs come out; the retractable canines were sharp and dangerous, filled with that venom that, depending on what your aim was, could change. You could make him undead like you, but that’s something you wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Besides, he was already similar in a sense. He was older than he looked and possibly even immortal, despite how he never mentioned it. You had no idea how long he had been around; all you know is that he once saw him over a hundred years ago in passing. It was hard to forget those stunning blue eyes, so when you saw him all those years again as your hunting partner, you were stunned. You knew he wasn’t like you; he was different.

You shook your head from those thoughts, though, as you allowed your fangs to gently graze over his neck. It was just enough to scratch the skin and leave little red welts in their place, but it was enough to make him shiver. Then you did it.

You bit down right over his jugular, the tiny piercing fangs breaking through the tender skin there. It gave way easily, and the moment it did, your mouth was filled with the sweetest drink you had ever had in your entire life. You gulped down the crimson liquid, realizing it was just as you always imagined. Sweet like chocolate, spicy like a pepper, and uniquely Xavier. It almost reminded you of how his kisses tasted.

Your eyes fluttered closed as your hands grabbed his cardigan tighter, almost tearing it as you drank deeply from him. Xavier had let out a gasp, his grip on your hip almost bruising as he watched you from his awkward angle. He didn’t know how to react to this, but he leaned down and kissed your temple.

It wasn’t at all how he had expected it to feel. The pain was hot and burning at first, but then it was gone and replaced with a feeling that overtook his entire body. It was euphoric and had him panting as he tried to focus on how he was really feeling. He didn’t feel lightheaded in the way that would show he was suffering blood loss; more or less, he was unable to focus on anything except your mouth on him and your scent.

Then he felt his body growing a bit colder, which he assumed was his sight. His hand went to your hair, tugging at it by the base lightly. It was enough for you to begin licking at the puncture mark. Your tongue laved at the skin as the wound began closing up, leaving angry and tender puncture wounds in its wake. With the venom, you weren’t sure if Xavier would heal normally. You were almost certain there would be a giant bruise there from both the wound itself and the broken veins.

You were panting as you finally got off his neck, looking at the red that had dripped down his neck and covered his cream cardigan and white shirt. It would need to be replaced if you didn’t deal with it right away. You only hoped you didn’t get it on his couch as well, but by the way, Xavier looked, he was…amused.

His hand went to your chin, wiping away from the blood that had dribbled down with his sleeve, “H-hey, you’re making your clothes worse…” You finally got out, and he just shook his head.

“I can buy a new one; it’s fine.” He said, and you were now pouting. As Xavier looked over you, though, he felt relieved. The bags under your eyes were now gone completely, and you looked alive. You even had a healthy, warm flush on your cheeks that, in his entire time with you, he had never seen. Perhaps it was the effects of having warm blood in your system for once instead of just cold packets.

“Feeling better?” He asked, and you did. You nodded as you went in to kiss him, then stopped short. You retreated from him, not wanting him to worry about tasting his own blood on your lips, but he had other ideas. He dragged you up to his mouth and pressed a short, chaste peck there that had you once again melting from how gentle he was with you.

“I feel so much better…and yourself? You look…cold.” You said, your hand going to his cheek now. For once, you were the warm one in the group, but Xavier didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m fine; I’ve lost more blood in battle before. Nothing a short nap won’t fix.” He assured once again. Your eyes glanced at the clock and noticed it was already ten in the evening.

“That would just be going to bed, Xavier.” You pointed out, and he smiled.

“Then go to bed with me tonight. I know you’re normally doing things at this time, but…” he trailed off, but honestly, he didn’t even need to finish that sentence. You knew he was feeling the effects of the venom; his need to keep you tucked to his side was a natural one. Of course, after he had been so kind as to let you feed, you’d indulge him in whatever he wanted.

“Let’s get us both cleaned up, then get into bed. I didn’t rest well with how hungry I was, so I’m pretty tired.” You lied easily. You had done nothing but sleep in the state you were in, but you could just scroll on your phone with him tucked against your side for the night.

“Alright, but can I sit here for a moment? I feel a bit…woozy.” He said, and you sighed and moved his hair out of his face.

“That’s fine; how about I pour you some juice to help you feel better? I’ll be right back.” You could see the hesitation in his eyes, but he nodded, allowing you to do as you needed to. You slowly extracted yourself from him and smiled once again, swiping your tongue over your lips to collect a little more of his blood. Even though you didn’t want to do this to him, you secretly hoped he’d let you feed on him again in the future. He tasted amazing, and knowing you’d get to cuddle with him all night, and probably well into tomorrow, was enticing.

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, giggling when it left a red mark on him that had him shooting you a small pout before you made your way to the kitchen, intent on taking care of your sweet boyfriend this time around. Maybe, just maybe, you’d even break out the cute little rabbit band-aids you bought for his neck.

[naffeclipse]

I’ve been being eaten away at by devil eyes brain rot for a while now and even though it’s not may anymore

What if devil eyes eclipse was like, a mer creature of some sort?

And what would he be?

Anon, I'm looking directly into your eyes and shaking your hand. It is always MerMay in our hearts!

Devil Eyes Eclipse would be a tiger shark mer! He is large with long fins and a long tail. He has a light-yellow underbelly with currant red skin and striking dark stripes across his entire body. His teeth are terrifyingly distinct with terribly sharp, pronounced serrations. He can locate prey (or mer Y/N) with electroreceptors which allows him to detect electric fields, including the weak electrical impulses generated by his prey. Oh, and did I mention he's a solitary, nocturnal hunter?

Since I'm already here, I'll toss in Devil Eyes Sun and Moon mers as well!

Moon is a blue shark mer. He prefers cool waters and is generally lethargic, but he can move very quickly. He has long fins and a long tail just like his brother Eclipse but is slightly smaller. His skin is midnight blue with small spots of baby blue while his underside is white. He's a cold-blooded mer and has a unique sense of smell which he uses to avoid other mers and keep him and Sun safe while they wait for Eclipse. He's also memorized Mer Y/N's sense and is still deciding whether he likes how pretty you smell. (He grows anxious whenever he smells your blood, blood on Eclipse, or both at once.)

Sun is a shortfin mako shark. He's the same size as Moon but slightly smaller than Eclipse with long fins (despite taking after a shortfin) and a long tail. He possesses a brilliant yellow color on top and a white underside. He's very agile and swift which makes him an incredibly fast swimmer, and he can leap to extreme heights out of the water. He maintains a body temperature that is warmer than the surrounding waters which he has used on the occasion to keep mer Y/N warm in the cold sea. He doesn't do well sitting tight in one spot and will often venture out to scout and scan the area for dangers or watch for Eclipse coming back to them.

[fexerpitch]

“That makes it sound like I’m not tough at all....”

"Sometimes you try to act all tough.." He's teasing, mostly.

[luminecent-sky]

Ooo i just got called out by that (hook still at Lv.1 at e3)

Well, in the case of Hook, she thinks (and this is reinforced by all the adults) that the Aeon of Fate wants to keep her safe! Because the Aeon knows best, and obviously, this is one of those moments.

While some of the older followers are more saddened by this, Asta and other followers that have responsibilities are thankful that they were given the strength and use it to do their duties more easily.

Teens like Clara, Yanqing, and HuoHuo, however....

Silence falls upon the teens as they take a break from training on the Astral express, seeing the adults come back from another successful adventure with their grace, the faint feeling of divinity that enveloped the train leaving it soon after they settled in. 

Yanqing looks over at the other teens in envy as they talk about the small adventures they sometimes joined their Aeon on.... Lynx looked particularly pleased as she recounted a valiant fight against a silvermane commander that she participated in.

It had only been a few hours since she became a vessel of Fate, quickly gaining power, and only a few of them could imagine of, unless you were Qingque or Pela, though the latter had confessed that her growth had been stopped as soon as a certain member of the Nameless reawakened his Vidyadhara powers.

Still, surrounded by other vessels that were younger than him, though being a teenager himself by the Xianzhou standards still stung. Was he not strong enough? Not capable enough? He knew that Sushang felt the same, but she still had something that he envied, she was at least a vessel with multiple glowing eidolons. He wasn't even chosen. 

.

.

.

 The Aeon was there when he fought the Stellaron hunters, when he fought Jingliu and he still lost, despite how their grace had done their damndest to help him triumph, guiding Pollux as she fought him under the control of that wicked woman, Kafka... were those battles, tests? 

Did the others have to face such things before they became vessels? Has he failed in the eyes of Fate? Was it the will of Fate that he could never be chosen? He sat there polishing his swords as doubt continued to swirl in his mind, he has to get better, for himself, and to prove that he was worthy enough for the Aeon to look upon him as a vessel worth relying on. The deep-seeded fear of abandonment rearing its ugly head the longer he dwelled on it. 

He needed to train, get his mind off of it.

—

Silver Wolf was getting bored, her games had gotten boring, and having no part in Elio's current script aside, she had to start from scratch, thanks to Herta and Screwllum* removing her accounts... along with the fact that she wasn't chosen as a vessel, 

It shouldn't bother her. This was fine, even Kafka wasn't chosen, the gacha didn't roll in her favour and all that. But it did sting, especially when Blade became a vessel, one of the main vessels, always returning back to base healed and with an expression of peace, unnerving to those who hadn't spent any length of time around him. 

Sending a hologram to the Astral express, she had the chance to talk to Pollux, to connect to their Aeon before the faint divinity she could feel faded away. 

She could never get used to it, the feeling of something watching you from every angle, seeing you, and through you. As the 'hacker', being unable to hide behind a screen, a hologram never sat right with her... she would only show herself when she wanted to cause chaos, or something really peaked her interest.

But lately, it seemed like the world was shifting again. The way that the other vessels moved seemed to be more.... lethargic, like their god had gotten tired and bored of them, it was unnerving to see the usually chipper and smiling members of the Astral express like this.

Until she found out the reason for this development, their god had encountered a lull in interest, much of the content had become tedious, boring, and much like a chore. But it would be alright, surely this game world would expand and bring their gaze back to her.

Just need to wait for the next update.

-

Clara always strived to be a good kid, caring for everyone in the vagrants' camp, making sure all the machines were in working condition and such.

It was always her dream to have everyone get along, no fighting or resentment, so she was overjoyed when the Aeon set their sights on her home, maybe they could really help unite everyone, sure they fought with Mr. Svarog, but it was a misunderstanding!

And after they came to help life had been slowly improving for everyone in Belebog.

They no longer had to fight with the other miners, and they could finally see the sunlight, feeling the breeze from the overworld. As a whole new world of opportunities opened up for her and the people of the Underworld.

But as she saw the others become blessed, blessed to help, blessed to make a difference in their slowly recovering planet, she felt empty.

Why was she not allowed the same? Was she not good enough? Had her efforts to help those she cared about lacking in the eyes of their Aeon?

Even if the other vagrants and robots assured her of the contrary, that seed of doubt would stay in her heart, taking root and slowly growing.

Nourished by the passing of time, as their Aeon moved to help other worlds, akin to a wound left to fester.

She hoped that one day she would be good enough to be seen by their god.

All she could do was wait.

A/n: no u didn't see this posted last year, tnx

lmaoo it rotted for so long, i will make a part 2 to this i think

[miamochi-writes]

Hey there! I saw your most recent posts and I love how you write! Could I get a request of a sleep deprived reader who stays awake after being ambushed by cops or bandits. And maybe Vash convinces them to rest after seeing how tired they are? Maybe sprinkle a bit of fluff? x

Zero O' Clock

A/n: oooo I dig this. Also I have been sleep deprived for a couple of days so this hits too close to home :'). I'm always up to write for this ray of sunshine. Plus, we all know this man would do anything to make sure you get the proper rest you need. Happy reading!

For the past several nights, you haven't gotten the best of sleep. Your eyes were starting to dry quickly and not adjust to the sunlight. Your body felt lethargic and a bit tingly every now and then from the lack of sleep. Your usual happy and cheery self was replaced with an irritable mood that even Wolfwood knew not to provoke you. You've been like this ever since the group was ambushed multiple times at night.

You were sleeping underneath the dark vast sky of the desert on top of the sand dunes. Like Vash, you were a light sleeper but you could easily fall asleep after making yourself comfortable. So right when you were about to drift off, you heard multiple foot steps running towards your camping site. Your eyes were wide open from hearing the sound as you got up. You and Vash spotted a group of bandits heading your way. You scrambled to wake the others as Vash and Wolfwood were trying to slow them down with their weapons. Eventually, the whole gang managed to clumsily pile into Meryl's car and as she stepped on the gas pedal. You thought that would be the end of it, but you were horribly wrong.

Two days after that incident, you were getting cozy with your sleeping bag after eating a hearty meal. Right when you dozed off, you only got to enjoy maybe 5 minutes of peace before Vash woke you up as you heard yelling from afar. This time it was bounty hunters closing in on the group with their fleet of Thomas. And so the cycle repeated itself once more as everyone had to wake up and make another getaway. All it took were those two ambushes to shake you to your core. Your mind and body were on edge no matter how much you wanted to sleep. The most you could do was close your eyes and just pass the time until sunrise. While your group was able to go back to their usual sleeping routines, your adrenaline and paranoia grew more each night.

Eventually, Meryl spotted a city nearby with a hotel and managed to get everyone rooms. You thought this would help you with your sleep predicament but to no avail. Another sleepless night of trying to close your eyes. You only managed to look at the ceiling or stare at your window with the moonlight shining. Once the sun's rays landed on your face, you sighed. You tried to look presentable before making your way to the lobby and grabbing something to eat. When you went downstairs you saw Vash was already sitting at one of the tables with his breakfast and another plate next to him. The blonde then noticed your presence as he waved at you.

"Good morning Y/n! I got you a plate!" he greeted as you couldn't help but smile at him. He constantly thinks about others and goes the extra mile what being told. His benevolent and cheery self always made you have faith in humanity once more when things seem bleak. Vash just had a natural charm that drew people to him, including you.

"Morning to you too Vash. I appreciate how thoughtful you are. Are the others joining us?" you asked as you took a seat next to him. It was moments like this you learned to appreciate Vash's company. It wasn't every day you get to enjoy moments like this with him where you can be comfortable and enjoy a meal together.

"Meryl and Roberto are out getting fuel for the car. Wolfwood is out and about probably getting some of his usual items. So it's just us here," he explained as you took a bite of your food and looked at him. So you were one of the lasts to wake up. Once he was done talking, he went to go put away his plate and came back to his seat.

"So what about you, what are your plans?" he asked giving you his full attention.

"I figured I'd grab a couple of things in town or see if anyone needs help before we head out to our next destination. What about you? I thought you'd be helping one of the townspeople by now," you spoke. You didn't want to be a burden, especially with moody you were with Roberto and Wolfwood. You didn't mean to, and thought you would make it up to them somehow.

"Yeah about that, something else came up," Vash vaguely answered as you cocked an eyebrow at him. Vash having a higher priority that was more important than helping civilians? You wondered what he was up to as you managed to finish eating.

"Oh, and what would that be?" you asked staring at him. You then saw his glasses hide his eyes with those oranges reflective shades. You got a glimpse of your reflection and felt a bit unnerved. Anytime his glasses did that, you knew the blonde was up to something.

"Y/n, how have you been feeling lately?" he asked as he slightly scooted closer to you. You were slightly caught off guard as you bit your lip.

"I'm peachy as ever, why?" you asked trying to convince him with your tone. You were catching on to his question, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him worry about you. He already carried a large burden on his shoulders, the last thing you wanted was to add to that burden. Vash's eyebrows furrowed as you were starting to grow tense from how close he was to you.

"Y/n, you don't have to pretend with me. I noticed you've been acting different with the others. You've also been quiet the past couple of days. I don't know what's going on, but you can talk to me. I just want to know if you're okay," Vash replied as you looked away. So he noticed your behavior too. You felt guilty that you made him worry. You debated on how to answer him as you bit your lip once more. You snuck a glance at him once more and you saw his blue eyes staring right at your e/c eyes. His eyes were filled with concern, yet he showed a small sad smile. It was almost as if he looked like he was giving you the puppy face which pulled your heart strings.

"Okay, fine I'll tell you. I'm not okay. I've been having a hard time sleeping lately. It's why I've been a little irritable and distant lately. I've been trying to sleep but nothing works. Doesn't matter if I sleep early, take a hot shower, or have a heavy meal, I keep staying up late," you caved in. Vash listened and rested his chin on the palm of his hands. He let you talk as he listened, but you could tell his worried expression grew.

"When did you first start having trouble sleeping?" Vash questioned. You told him how you first noticed since the ambushes started. It was specifically after the second one was when you were up all night. You also mentioned how you didn't want to burden anyone with your problems since they were nothing compared to what everyone else was facing.

"Y/n, you mean to tell me it's been going on ever since that day?" he asked once more as you sheepishly nodded.

"Were you able to sleep last night?" he continued as you shook your head.

"Are you nervous that it's going to happen again?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe," you said as you wondered too. Vash looked deep in thought as you stared at him feeling vulnerable with the man you adored. Then Vash looked at you and put his human hand over yours as this small gesture caught you completely off guard with your heart racing.

"Well that settles it, you're going to sleep in for the day," he chimed as you looked at him with complete shock. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and led you back to your room. You couldn't get over how warm his hand was as your face was flustered. Sure you've brushed shoulders briefly with him, but him holding your hand for this long? Were you hallucinating from the lack of sleep?

He managed to get a hold of your room key and led you inside before he closed the door behind him.

"You really want me to sleep in? I feel bad Vash," you told him as he sighed.

"Y/n, you haven't slept in days. Besides, you can't help others if you're not helping yourself first. I know the others will understand," he pointed out as you gave in. You knew he was right as you made your way to your bed and laid down. Vash walked up to you and flashed you a quick smile as you hid your face under the covers.

"Now rest up, and don't even think about sneaking out. I'll be guarding the door," he warned as you pouted. He knew you too well. What shook you more was that he was pulling up a chair next to the bed as you felt your cheeks and ears turning red.

"Vash, what are you doing?" you asked him.

"Making sure you don't escape and actually go to sleep," he answered like it was no big deal.

"Y-you're really going to stay here with me while I try to sleep?" you asked once more as you emphasized the sleep part. You needed to be sure as he nodded his head with no hesitation. You heart rate was becoming erratic as your mind was racing.

"I think maybe you've been having trouble sleeping since you feel like you're expecting something to happen like the ambushes. I figured maybe you'd relax if you knew someone was here to watch over you while you sleep. It could help remove the stress," Vash explained as you gave it some thought. At this point, you were running out of options and you were willing to try anything at this point.

"Hey Vash, why are you doing all of this for me? You could be helping others like you usually do when we're at different cities," you asked out of curiosity.

"Well it's because I care about you. You're important to me and the group. The last thing I want is for something to happen to you when we're out traveling," he explained. Thankfully the blanket was covering part of your face as your blush grew a deeper color. Vash really made you feel all sorts of things. Your mind kept replaying his answer as you tried to get comfortable.

"Thanks Vash, I appreciate you doing this," you commented as you tried to focus on sleeping.

"Of course, I'm always happy to help. If something ever bothers you, know that I'm here Y/n," he reassured as you gave him a small smile. As you closed your eyes, you heard Vash humming a song. It was a beautiful melody that was ever so soothing. You turned your head towards Vash again and opened your eyes. You knew Vash had an alluring voice, but for him to carry a tune? He continued to surprise you more and more each day.

"What song is that?" you asked him as he perked up.

"It's something I used to sing to myself whenever I got scared or anxious. It always helps calm me down. I'm sorry, is it bothering you?" he spoke as you shook your head.

"No, I like it. It's a beautiful melody," you answered with a slight yawn. It was harder to keep your eyes open the more Vash kept humming. Your breathing was finally slowing as you hadn't felt this relaxed in awhile.

"Sleep well Y/n, I'll be right here," Vash commented as you dozed off with a smile. He continued to quietly sing until he was sure you were fast asleep. After 30 minutes, Vash went up to you and adjusted the covers as he saw you shiver a bit. He then gave a quick kiss to your head and sat back down as he watched fondly over you. It wasn’t until later on he decided to doze off for the day.

Bonus:

Wolfwood was looking around for you and Vash as he noticed how quiet it was around town. Usually there would be some commotion going off right now. It wasn’t until he saw a glimpse of Vash dragging you into your room and then putting the “Do not Disturb” sign out the door.

“Well, that wasn’t on my bingo card. But good for them,” Wolfwood whistled to himself with a smirk.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 23

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, MAJOR ANGST, canon-typical violence and peril

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

The tension on the bridge of Moff Gideon’s cruiser was palpable as you waited for Din’s rendezvous. At the conclusion of the firefight, both Bo-Katan and Koska had removed their helmets, and although she had never struck you as a particularly warm person, the fury on Bo-Katan’s face at being thwarted by Gideon once again had physical chills tripping down your spine. You watched her strong jaw twitch as she ground her teeth, working to rein in her anger as she paced. Fennec and Cara both seemed to be watching your Mandalorian companions warily, and you felt their concern match your own.  

If Moff Gideon wasn’t on the bridge, where had he gone? Had he escaped somehow without your party’s notice? Was he elsewhere on the ship, hiding?

If he truly was gone, and Bo-Katan had lost her opportunity to accept his surrender, what would that mean for your alliance with the princess and her vassal?

You tried not to allow that thought to take up too much space in your mind. For now, your concern was Din and the success of his mission. Once he had successfully retrieved Grogu from the brig and joined the rest of the boarding party, you could discuss more what to do about Gideon. Until then, there was little left for you to do but wait.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to remain idle for long. Just as you were getting to your feet, your breath once again steady and your nerves calm after the fight through the ship, the bridge’s blast doors slid open, and in strode Din.

The moment your eyes locked on his visor, you were closing the distance between you without another thought, cataloguing every detail of his appearance with every step you took. The first thing you noticed was that the bounty hunter appeared uninjured, his armor intact, his flight suit unmarred. That told you nothing about what his body might look like underneath his many layers, or how many bruises he might now be sporting, but for now, it was enough for you to know that he wasn’t bleeding anywhere.

Second, you noticed Grogu, his little body tucked securely into the crook of Din’s arm. He, too, looked well. A bit lethargic, perhaps, but otherwise unhurt, and the relief of that realization nearly had your knees buckling beneath you. Your boy was all right. You could have wept.

But then there was the other man Din had trailing along in front of him, limp and bloodied and looking very much the worse for wear. Wrists bound in a familiar pair of durasteel cuffs and dressed head-to-toe in a black armored uniform, the man stumbled through the door at Din’s none-too-gentle urging. His mouth was stained red with dried blood, like he had been hit there, and you could feel his dark eyes assessing you as you approached, taking the measure of you just as you were him.

“What happened?”

Bo-Katan’s sharp question shattered the silence, and you turned to see her staring down at Din from the platform at the front of the bridge. She looked utterly shaken, eyes wide and brow drawn with the first strong emotion you had seen on her face since you had met her. For someone who was normally so put together, so stoic and reserved, seeing such intensity of feeling broadcast plainly on her hawk-like features was jarring.

Anger. Betrayal. Devastation. All of them inexplicably directed at your bounty hunter.

You slid up next to Din as quickly as you could manage, giving his mysterious prisoner a wide berth. Opening your arms, you wordlessly gestured for him to pass Grogu to you. Whatever conflict was about to come to a head, you knew he would want to keep the boy out of the line of fire.

You assumed rightly. The Mandalorian kept his eyes on Bo-Katan but handed the child off to you without protest, and as he did so, you took note of the object that he held in his other hand for the first time. A sword, unlike any you had ever seen before. It had a thick hilt made of some dark metal, and its pitch-black blade was long – straight on one side, curved on the other. Even under the bright lights of the bridge, it glowed brightly around the edges, and you swore you could see little filaments of light tracking through the blade itself, creating intricate patterns of pure white against the contrasting darkness.

It looked like the kind of weapon that ought not to exist, like something out of a fairytale.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered triumphantly. In a few long strides, she was clapping Din on the shoulder fraternally then dropping a gentle pat onto Grogu’s wispy-haired head. “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

Him, she said.

Ah. The pieces were starting to come together for you now. The limping man in the black uniform with the bloody lips and the calculating eyes – that was the mysterious Moff Gideon.

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Gideon remarked coolly. His voice was low and cultured, and though he sounded a bit swollen around the mouth, he spoke with the confidence of someone who was accustomed to others listening when he spoke. Flicking his dark gaze up to Bo-Katan, he addressed his next words to her. “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Your hand was on the grip of your blaster before you could think, the weapon drawn from your holster and trained on him before you could take your next breath. You cupped the back of Grogu’s little head in your palm protectively and tucked him tight against your breast. You had just gotten the both of them back; like hell would this man take either one of them from you now.

Cara, too, seemed unamused by this comment. Gathering a fistful of his long, black cape in a rough grip, she threw Gideon to the ground at her feet. He let out a muffled grunt as his body slammed into the shallow step that led up to the front of the bridge, though this did little to deter his antagonistic attitude. With a satisfied, almost amused smirk, he turned to Din and quipped, “It’s yours now.”

“What is?” the bounty hunter deadpanned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you.”

You felt your brows raise and glanced between Din, Gideon, and Bo-Katan, mind spinning. The latter didn’t seem to be able to look the others in the eye, her gaze permanently angled away, her lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, there was some significance to the strange sword in Din’s hand that you weren’t privy to.

Din shrugged then raised the sword, and you watched as the strange black blade seemed to retract back into the handle. You realized then that the sword hadn’t merely glowed – it was made of light.

Without preamble, the bounty hunter stretched out his hand and offered the sword’s handle, now inert, to Bo-Katan. “Now, it belongs to her.”

But the princess made no move to take the sword, and Gideon merely laughed from his slumped position on the floor. “She can’t take it. It must be won. In battle,” he said mockingly. “In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

You adjusted your grip on your blaster, and Grogu squirmed against your body with a whine. Shushing him softly, you kept your eyes trained on the tense scene before you. Bo-Katan wouldn’t attack Din over this sword, not after they had fought together, not when Din trusted her so completely.

Would she?

The bounty hunter didn’t seem to put much stock into anything Gideon was saying. Rather than getting defensive, or preparing for her to turn on him, he simply extended the sword handle to her once again. “I yield. It’s yours.”

“Ohhh, no.”

Moff Gideon’s sinister chuckle had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and you were suddenly, viscerally reminded of Orron Halcard – your foreman, your jailer. The two men looked absolutely nothing alike, but something about the cold, slimy arrogance of their laughter was eerily similar, and you gritted your teeth against the wave of nausea the sound inspired in you. The man you feared – the man you hated – was on the other side of the galaxy, you reminded yourself. You needed to stay present.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the moff continued, staggering uneasily to his feet, bound wrists extended awkwardly out in front of him. You flipped the safety off on your blaster pistol with trembling fingers. “The Darksaber doesn’t have power – the story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

Defeat heavy on her strong, square shoulders, Bo-Katan cast a forlorn glance at the sword hilt, still held aloft in Din’s palm, offered freely. It was mere inches from her hand, and yet you knew from the way she tugged her gaze away from its allure, landing somewhere in the middle distance between him and Gideon, that she could not bring herself to reach out and take it.

“He’s right,” she admitted. Her voice was soft, resigned, and tinged with grief. A pang of empathy tightened in your chest at the sound, so foreign in her commanding voice.

Your Mandalorian, however, appeared undeterred. With a sigh that crackled through his helmet modulator, he repeated, “Come on, just take it.”

A muscle flinched in her jaw, but just as she was about to open her mouth and respond, a shrill alarm sounded from one of the consoles, and you all startled at the sound. A proximity alert, your memory supplied as Fennec darted over to the screeching security station. Something was approaching the ship, and it was coming in fast.

“Well, perhaps she’ll get another crack at it,” Gideon scoffed wryly, entirely unconcerned. No one paid him any heed.

“The ray shields have been breached,” Fennec reported, her gloved hands flying rapidly over the console before her. “We’re being boarded.”

Bo-Katan cursed softly under her breath. “How many lifeforms?”

Looking up from her readings, the dark-haired assassin’s face was grave as she replied, “None.”

None. The word echoed between your ears for a beat, and you felt your steady grip on your blaster falter as your mind caught up with what that meant. No lifeform readings meant the assailants weren’t organic, weren’t alive. Droids, most likely. And if they were droids…

You glanced anxiously at Din, and you could feel the matching distress radiating off of him even from the other side of the bridge. He had come to the same conclusion as you. These were –

“You’re about to face off with the Dark Troopers,” Moff Gideon boasted. Your stomach sank in your abdomen as he put words to the thing you had most feared, the thing you had just come to realize was coming for all of you. With a smirk in Din’s direction, he continued, “You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

Holstering your blaster for now, you took up one of the many available bridge stations and thumbed through the controls, scrolling through the many live security camera feeds the ship’s crew had left queued up for monitoring. It didn’t take you long to find them – a long line of sleek, black machines clearly designed to emulate humanoid soldiers, covered head to toe in reflective armor plating and carrying blaster rifles the size of your thigh. Their helmets were reminiscent of Storm Trooper gear, though smaller, sharper, somehow more vicious, and their narrow eyes glowed even through the lens of the fuzzy, black-and-white security footage.

“They’re headed this way,” you called out, watching them march in flawless, mechanical formation as they drew ever closer to the bridge. Based on your readings, it looked like they had boarded the ship near the catwalk where you and the rest of your boarding party had been cornered by those two parties of troopers earlier. These droids had a way to go before they reached you, but with most of the ship’s crew dead or unconscious and the internal security systems disabled, nothing would stand in their way.

They would make the journey through the ship far faster than you had.

With a grunt, Cara gripped Gideon by his cape and shoved him back down onto the deck, and you felt the corner of your mouth curl in a smirk at the sound of his collapse. You had heard quite enough out of him for the foreseeable future.

As you continued to track the Dark Trooper’s movements through the ship, you felt more than saw Din approach you from behind. His hand closed around your shoulder, a soft breath of relief barely reaching your ears through his vocoder, and for the briefest moment, you felt your muscles relax beneath his touch. Glancing over your shoulder, you met his gaze through his dark visor and offered him a small, tight smile.

“Okay?” you asked him, voice a mere whisper, keeping your words close, concealed from the ears of those around you.

“Better, now that I know you are,” he replied just as quietly. His helmet might not have even picked it up had he been any softer.

You shrugged, your smile taking on a sardonic tinge. “For now anyway.”

“Cyare.” Din tucked his big, broad palm against your jaw, cupping the side of your face gently. For the span of a breath, the two of you just stood there, taking each other in, and you could feel the fear that you had been so desperately trying to pack away from the moment you stepped off of the Lambda shuttle begin to simmer in your gut. Gideon said that Din had struggled to subdue a single Dark Trooper, and now dozens were well on their way to reaching you. This room was full of skilled fighters – the best you had ever seen – but the fact remained that there were only so many of you. How could you stand against them?

“Cyare,” Din repeated, his voice increasing in urgency, and you let your eyes fall closed, wishing for all the galaxy that you collapse into him, that you could feel his warmth and his solidity against you and know that he would make everything right. He could see you starting to fall apart, and you had never wanted to let yourself more than you did in this moment.

For the first time in months, you heard your name spoken in that low, rasping voice, warped and staticky and familiar. The sound pulled your eyes open, and you looked up at him with a watery gaze.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you both out of here,” he said solemnly. Dropping his hand from your face, he reached out and stroked Grogu’s head lovingly, trailing his fingertips along the top of one the boy’s ears, just like he liked. “Take shelter behind these consoles. Keep him close. Don’t come out unless I say so, understood?”

Swallowing audibly, you nodded.

“Go,” he urged, and you obeyed, rounding the edge of the console bank and dropping to the floor. You pressed your back up against its base and drew your knees up to your chest, tucking Grogu snugly between your body and your thighs. Resting one arm along the tops of your knees, you surrounded him with a cage made from your own body. Your other hand drew your blaster and held it at the ready, safety off, barrel pointed up.

In your lap, the little boy cooed with concern, but you simply shushed him gently and dropped a quick kiss onto his brow. “Keep quiet now,” you whispered. Your voice shook. “Don’t be afraid.”

---

Din took a moment to gather himself, a moment to attempt to slow his thundering heart and ease his breathing. In all of the years he had spent training for battle – as a foundling, as an apprentice, with his squad-mates in the Fighting Corps, with his mentor in the depths of space (nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la) – nothing had ever truly prepared him for a situation like this one. Trapped with nowhere to run, against an enemy that both outnumbered and out-gunned him, his friends at his back, the two beings dearest in the world to him huddled behind layers of circuitry and flimsy plastisteel in a futile attempt to protect themselves. It was enough to have him clenching his fists down at his sides, trying not to tremble.

There wasn’t a Mandalorian alive who feared kyr’am. He had stared death in the eye more than once and doing so again did not frighten him. But Grogu, his ad, and you, his riduur… His aliit in everything but name, in all the ways that mattered. He could not bear the thought of your lives ending here, in this cold, unfamiliar place surrounded by enemies and steeped in dread. He could not – would not – allow that to happen.

“Seal the blast doors!” Fennec ordered, and Koska scrambled to comply. She was young, Din knew. Tough, a little vicious, a fine fighter, and someone that Bo-Katan clearly trusted, but how many battles could she have seen, truly?

On the other side of the layers of durasteel now blocking the way onto the bridge, the loud, synchronous echo of heavy metal footsteps approached.

“They’re here,” Koska warned, slipping her helmet back over her head, and around her, everyone began to ready themselves for combat. Adjusting armor, donning helmets, priming weapons, aiming them at the doors. Din couldn’t quite see all of you where you hid, but he could see the blaster pistol in your hand, your finger resting along the side of the trigger. You had covered Grogu’s body almost entirely with your own, the boy only visible by the delicate tip of one of his green ears poking out near your cheek, and the Mandalorian’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest at the sight.

He managed not to startle when steady, rhythmic banging began to echo through the closed blast doors. Even with their impressive heft, they rattled in their frames, the power behind the Dark Trooper’s incessant pounding overwhelming. If left alone for long enough, they would bend and break the doors through sheer, brute strength.

Behind him, still crumpled and bleeding on the deck, Moff Gideon chuckled lowly. “You have an impressive fire team protecting you. But I think we all know after a valiant stand, everyone in this room will be dead but me and the child.”

Haar’chak. The man was right, of course. Should the rest of you perish in the fight against the Dark Troopers, Grogu would likely be spared. Was that better, he wondered? To live a life of imprisonment at the hands of Gideon and his men, always under a microscope, always the subject of some new experiment, forced to give his blood to the moff’s scientists who had no regard for his well-being? He had no wish to find out.

Before him, the blast doors had begun to bulge in the center, stretching and warping and curving inward, the gap between the two halves of the door widening with every impact. The strained metal creaked and groaned, the sound deafeningly loud even through his helmet. The droids were making quick work of them; it wouldn’t be much longer before they would burst through, and then the true fight would begin.

With a deep, steadying breath, Din adjusted his grip on his blaster and squared his shoulders toward the oncoming enemy.

However, just as the ever-widening space at the center of the door grew large enough for a hand to squeeze through, the same shrill, chirping alarm sounded from the security terminal.

All eyes on the bridge swiveled to stare at the console screen, recognizing the proximity sensor immediately. A streak of movement caught his eye then, and he watched as a small, familiar vessel sped past the forward viewport.

“An X-wing?” you murmured, a question in your voice. You couldn’t see well from where you huddled, but you could hear, the roar of the X-wing’s four symmetrical engines audible even through the transparisteel, and a fleeting flash of pride surged through Din at the realization that you had identified it by sound alone.

“One X-wing?” Cara quipped. Sarcasm dripped from her words as she scoffed. “Great. We’re saved.”

Tucking her twin blaster pistols back into her thigh holsters, Bo-Katan crossed to the communications terminal and opened a channel. “Incoming craft, identify yourself,” she demanded.

But the connection remained silent, the mysterious ship ignoring the hail. It proceeded to dock in the launch bay, and for the third time in the last hour, Moff Gideon’s light cruiser was being boarded.

---

You would know the sound of an X-wing anywhere – you had built more of them than you could count, could likely do so with your eyes closed even after all of the months you had spent away from the shipyards. The rumble of their engines was comforting in the way that familiar things were comforting, and in spite of your desire to keep your memories from all of the years you had spent in service on Chardaan locked away, you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The others might have been dubious, but X-wings – even if there was only one – meant protection. Allies. Safety. For the first time since the Dark Troopers came aboard, you felt the faintest surge of hope.

It seemed that the feeling was contagious. Tucked away in your lap, Grogu began to fuss, and you glanced down to find his ears perked and wriggling, his eyes wide and blinking. Every ounce of lethargy in his little body had been replaced with keen interest, and before long, you couldn’t keep him contained; he squirmed fully out of your arms and dropped to the floor, his tiny legs carrying him urgently to the closest console with a security camera viewscreen.

“Grogu – ” you hissed, holstering your blaster, scrambling to your feet. You made it to him just as he was starting to crawl up into the chair, little three-fingered hands skittering across the leather seat. With a sigh, you scooped him into your arms and took a step back toward where you had been hiding, but before you could abscond with him once again, the viewscreen he had been so intent on reaching caught your eye.

There, in black and white, a double line of Dark Troopers stood stock still on the other side of the bridge blast doors. As you watched, the two at the front – who moments ago had been pounding so persistently on the durasteel before them, caving it in bit by bit – paused, dropped their arms, and retrieved their blasters from their mounts on the sides of their legs.

And then, as a single unit, the entire platoon did an about-face and turned to stare down the corridor in the opposite direction of the bridge.

“Why did they stop?” Fennec asked warily, putting voice to the question you were sure all of you were now asking.

Grogu let out a series of babbles and coos, wiggling in your arms, reaching his hand out toward the viewscreen as though trying to touch it, and you looked down at him with a puzzled frown. Clearly there was something he was trying to see. Reluctantly, you sat him down on the surface of the console, and like the rest of the boarding party had done for you, you drew up behind him as close as you could manage, putting your body between him and the now-silent bridge entrance.

With tentative hands, the boy pressed a button on the console, and the view of the security footage shifted on the screen. Rather than watching just outside the bridge, you now were watching a faceless figure in a long, black cloak sweep menacingly down the corridors of the cruiser, tracing the same path you and your team had taken from the launch bay to the bridge. In his right hand, a long sword glowed, this one not entirely unlike the one Din now had tucked into his utility belt. It appeared a bit more even in shape, a bit more solid in color, but that almost supernatural glow of light that surrounded it was unmistakable even through the dodgy security cameras.

Still stationed at her own terminal, Bo-Katan let out an audible breath of surprise. “A Jedi?” she murmured questioningly. You glanced over at the princess to find her transfixed, staring at the same feed as Grogu on her own viewscreen. Had you been able to see her face through her helmet, you were certain that she would look like she had just seen a ghost.

A Jedi, she had said. Like the woman that had sent Din to Tython, like the people that Grogu had been attempting to contact using the seeing stone.

He had succeeded, you realized, emotion welling up in your throat so thick it nearly choked you. Your boy had done it. A Jedi had found him.

All together, the remaining boarding party turned to watch the screens, their weapons lowering as they took in the spectacle playing out before them. This mysterious figure, this Jedi, was a calm, efficient, and deadly swordsman, and with great economy of movement, you watched as they dispatched each and every Dark Trooper they came across with seemingly minimal effort. With a smooth parry of their glowing sword, they blocked every blaster bolt and every swinging blow. What Troopers did not meet their end at the edge of his blade instead were flung across the ship with an invisible Force, crashing into cargo containers, careening off of catwalks, colliding into other Troopers, and falling in a tangle of wires and durasteel.

It was incredible, the way this stranger moved with such steady confidence, such complete and utter control. They were like the quiet stillness at the center of a whirlpool, raining quick and proficient destruction upon the cruiser’s last line of defense – these savage war machines that had been designed for death and yet could not stand before this hooded figure. With a start, you realized that this…this was what Grogu had the potential to become. This was a Jedi at their full power, a master of their abilities. All this time, this was what Din had been striving to give him.

You hadn’t understood. Now, you thought you might be starting to.

It was then that several things happened in quick succession, and you were yanked from your awed reverie so sharply your head spun.

Behind you, Moff Gideon surged to his feet, produced a blaster pistol from the folds of his cape, and – in the same motion – opened fire on Bo-Katan. The princess grunted at the impact, several rounds bouncing harmlessly off of her beskar armor. But then a single shot made contact with the unprotected meat of her thigh, and she crumpled to the deck with a groan.

The rest of the boarding party sprang into action around her, whirling around with brandished weapons, expressions of shock and anger on their lips, but Gideon was faster than all of them. In the span of a heartbeat, he spun, adjusted his aim, and loosed another volley of rounds, this time directly at Grogu.

You had no time to think, no time to second guess, but even if you had, you were certain you would have taken the same action. Truly, it was the easiest decision you had ever made in your life.

You stepped in front of him.

Blaster holstered on your hip, no time to raise it in your own defense, you put your body between the little boy and the moff, shut your eyes, and held your breath.

…

But the searing pain never came. Instead, the loud, echoing sound of several blaster bolts pinging off of beskar filled your ears, and your eyes shot back open to find Din angled in front of you, arms spread wide, shoulders heaving.

All of the breath leaving your lungs at once, you leaned heavily back against the console behind you, hands gripping the edge fiercely to keep you upright. He was unharmed, as were you and Grogu. All three of you were still alive.

Thankfully, by this time, everyone seemed to have caught up from Gideon’s surprise attack. The man had at least four blasters trained on him now, and from the wide-eyed, desperate expression on his face, he knew as well as you did that he would not be able to pull off a maneuver like that again.

“Drop it!” Fennec shouted, gesturing with the barrel of her blaster rifle to the pistol in the moff’s bound hands.

For a moment, he appeared to weigh his options, glancing from Fennec to Cara to Din to the still-bulging blast doors on the other side of the bridge, and then he was angling the pistol’s muzzle upward and pressing it firmly against the underside of his own chin.

You gasped, lunging futilely for him, hand outstretched and eyes wide. “No – !”

The butt of the marshal’s blaster rifle made contact with his pistol before it could fire, sending it flying through the air to slide across the deck plating. Another blow, and the rifle cracked across Moff Gideon’s jaw with a sickening thud. The man buckled to the floor in a graceless heap, instantly unconscious and dripping blood onto his pitch-black uniform.

Everyone seemed to take a collective breath of relief then, and Din turned to face you, immediately cupping your shoulders in his palms with an urgent grip.

“Cyare – ”

“I’m fine,” you were quick to assure him. Your hands landed on this chest of their own accord, running across the surface of his breastplate then his pauldrons with searching fingers. “Are you – ?”

“I’m okay – he just hit the armor. The kid, is he – ?”

You both turned to find Grogu precisely where you had left him, perfectly happy and well, perched on the surface of the security terminal, his face still angled toward the black-and-white camera feed playing out on the viewscreen. The mysterious cloaked figure was still approaching, appearing to be just outside now. They stared down the two long lines of Dark Troopers that clogged the corridor, and without a moment’s hesitation, they drew their glowing, thrumming sword and began to systematically slice their way through the impenetrable wall of durasteel and electrical wiring.

Like all the others, these Dark Troopers didn’t stand a chance. They fell before that sword like wheat to a scythe, and you and Din both watched as Grogu stared on, completely enraptured, the palm of his little hand pressed fervently against the viewscreen as though trying to touch the hooded swordsman through it.

With a heavy, knowing sigh, the bounty hunter glanced down at you, meeting your gaze through his impassive visor. A moment of understanding passed between you, silent yet poignant, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the same thing that he did – that you were all standing on the edge of a precipice and that the moment that you had been dreading was upon you sooner than you had ever considered.

Din’s quest had been to deliver Grogu to a Jedi to be trained in the ways of the Force, and now, a Jedi had delivered themself directly to him.

Turning to face the rest of the party, the Mandalorian commanded, “Open the doors.”

No one moved immediately to comply, all of them too absorbed with the fact that this bizarre figure who was clearly capable of so much destruction with so little effort was now mere feet away, decimating the forces outside the blast doors with deadly precision. It seemed as though everyone had grown a bit wary of this supposed savior, and there didn’t seem to be anyone eager to make it easier for them.

“I said open the doors,” Din repeated.

“Are you crazy?” Fennec snapped, exasperated.

He glanced back at you then, and with a somber nod, you thumbed through a few controls on the nearest terminal. The three-layered durasteel doors shook and shuddered in their frames, heavily damaged from the Dark Trooper’s assault, but after a few groans of protest, they eventually peeled back, trembling to a stop as the bulging metal ran into the edges of the doorframe. From the corridor beyond, a mix of smoke and steam spilled in, filling the air with the acrid scent of ozone. Hot metal and burning electrical wiring, you knew, from the felled Dark Troopers. The hallway was thick with it, so many of them destroyed in such a small space, and it did nothing to ease the anxious pounding of your heart as Din gestured for you to bring Grogu forward.

Scooping the boy into your arms, you followed close behind the bounty hunter and tentatively approached the open doorway. It did not take long for the hooded figure to appear, emerging from the fog clad in billowing black robes like a dark specter. Silent and still, the Jedi retracted their glowing sword, which was apparently bright green, and for the first time, you noticed that they were wearing a single leather glove on their right hand. Their left hand was bare, and it was with both hands that they reached up and pulled back the obscuring fabric of their hood.

A young human man, no more than 30, with dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at you. You were struck at once by his placid expression, by the way he carried himself with an almost profound, steady calmness that exuded both confidence and humility. Now unarmed, hands clasped formally in front of him, he oozed a kind of gentle competence that called to mind the same image from earlier – the serenity at the center of a whirlpool, the peace in the eye of a storm.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, wariness coloring his words even through his vocoder.

The strange man nodded once. “I am.” His gaze flicked over the bounty hunter’s shoulder then, making solemn eye contact directly with you and then with Grogu. Extending his bare hand, he beckoned to the child, palm up. “Come, little one.”

Your grip tightened on the boy unconsciously, and with a quiet, concerned whine, Grogu looked up at you and then Din. His eyes were wide, his wrinkly brow pulled up in the center, his ears turned down.

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” the Mandalorian said, angling his body protectively between the Jedi and you.

“He wants your permission,” the man countered. Din was visibly taken aback by this, as were you, your eyebrows raising to meet your hairline as you stared at the Jedi incredulously. “He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the child, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”

Silently, your bounty hunter stared at the strange man for a beat, contemplating his words. Tension stretched between them, Din taking the measure of him behind the anonymity of his helmet, and to his credit, the younger man did not flinch or fidget. He simply stood and waited until the Mandalorian gave him a subtle nod.

Closing the distance between the two of you, Din met your gaze wordlessly and opened his arms, reaching for Grogu. Your stomach dropped like a lead weight in your abdomen, your throat swelling with choked-back emotion as you understood what was about to happen. You recalled suddenly the day Din had taken you to Nevarro for the first time, the day he had attempted to turn you in for your bounty and hand you over to Orron. Parting from the little boy in your arms had broken your heart even then, the idea of never seeing him again moving you to tears.

What would it do to your heart to say goodbye to him now, all these months later? What would it do to Din’s?

Still, you knew you could not refuse him. You had no right to override Din’s wishes like that, and you had no right to hold Grogu back from achieving all of the incredible things you knew he was capable of. So rather than hanging on tight, the way you wished so desperately that you could, you instead tucked the boy’s soft little head against your neck for a brief moment, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then passed him into Din’s waiting arms.

Grogu squirmed for the briefest moment, uncertainty shining in his wide, dark eyes, but the bounty hunter was quick to soothe him. Voice low, tender, and husky with emotion, he murmured, “Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with – he’s one of your kind.” Din brought the child up close to his face, holding him so gently mere inches from his helmet. “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Batwing ears twitching, Grogu extended one little, three-clawed hand, tracing his fingertips and then flattening his palm against the cool, beskar cheek of Din’s helmet. You watched with tear-stung eyes as the two – father and son, in all the ways that mattered – simply gazed at each other for a moment as though memorizing each other’s faces, burning the image of the other into their memory forevermore.

Except…

Except Grogu could not see Din’s face. Not really.

The same thought seemed to occur to him then. That this would be the image of him that this child would carry with him throughout his life – the impassive, anonymous, expressionless face of the helmet he had worn since he was a child himself. And so he did the thing that you never would have expected, the thing for which you never would have asked but had secretly yearned. With slow, trembling movements, the Mandalorian Din Djarin reached up, tucked his thumb under the chin of his helmet, released the pneumatic seal keeping it in place, and lifted the thing up and over his head.

For a wild moment, you consider turning around. Or covering your eyes. Something – anything – to keep from seeing the face of the man who had hunted you, captured you, then saved you; the man who had given you a home and a family for the first time since you were a child; the man who had encouraged you to make choices for yourself, to speak your mind, to exercise your creativity, to flex your expertise; the man you had fallen in love with long before you had ever admitted it to yourself or to him.

He had had so many opportunities to show you his face before now, so many chances to share himself with you in that way, and he had not taken them. This moment was between father and son, a moment of connection and comfort for the boy who would be leaving this ship with a stranger, perhaps never to return. Was it right for you to look, to see him like this?

All of these thoughts rushed through your mind as the helmet receded, as he lifted it and sat it off to the side atop a nearby terminal. And yet, they were not enough. Because Din…

Maker, Din was beautiful. Tanned skin kissed with sweat, dark brown hair cropped close on the sides but longer on the top, a strong brow, a prominent nose, and full, soft-looking lips that turned down ever so slightly in the corners. His big, dark brown eyes were red around the edges and shone with unshed tears, and short, patchy stubble graced his upper lip and cheeks. His black cowl covered his neck all the way up to the underside of his jaw and cupped about a quarter of the way up the back of his skull.

He was everything you had thought he would be, everything you had known he would be from the stolen moment caressing this face in the dark. And he was also so much more.

The tears stinging your eyes spilled over then, streaming softly, silently down your face as Grogu took Din in. So much gentleness and love shone in those dark, mirror-like eyes, it made your heart ache. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, the boy pressed his hand to the bounty hunter’s cheek, right where it had been on the helmet, and Din’s watery eyes fell shut at the sensation.

“All right, pal. It’s time to go,” he rasped, voice thick and soft and so unfamiliar without his vocoder. You could count on one hand the number of times you had heard it, and it never failed to make your heart squeeze in your chest. “Don’t be afraid.” He offered the boy a small, encouraging smile then bent down, setting him on the ground.

Grogu protested for a moment, clearly uncertain, clinging closely to Din’s boot and staring up at him pleadingly, but the Mandalorian did not give in. He simply gave him an encouraging gesture and a gentle little push with is foot, urging him in the direction of the Jedi still waiting patiently in the doorway.

Just as you began to question whether the child would ever willingly approach the other man, a gentle whirring sound reached your ears, and a blue and white R2 series astromech droid came rolling onto the bridge, stopping beside the cloaked man with a jaunty whistle. The sound immediately got Grogu’s attention; he released Din’s leg and turned to face it, taking a few hesitant steps in its direction with bright, fascinated eyes. The boy looked small even next to the squat little droid, the former only about a third of the latter’s height, and you watched as the astromech leaned down almost as if to meet his gaze. The two watched each other for a moment, Grogu cooing softly while the R2 unit beeped and babbled at him. Before long, the droid let out another joyful whistle and began rocking back and forth on its leg stabilizers with enthusiasm.

Without being able to understand binary, it seemed to you that the two had come to some sort of understanding. The astromech even seemed…happy to see him?

This was enough for Din, it seemed. Glancing up to the Jedi in the doorway, he gave the other man a small nod of approval, which the Jedi returned. The cloaked man looked down at the child, and then the boy was extending both of his arms up into the air, the universal gesture of all little children asking to be held.

So that was it then, you realized. Grogu was agreeing to go. Grogu was asking to go.

Bending at the waist, the Jedi stooped down to Grogu’s level, tucked his hands under the boy’s arms, and lifted him effortlessly into the air, cradling him against his body.

“May the Force be with you,” he said solemnly, and before you could respond, before you could stop to think about how wrong it looked for Grogu to be in this strange man’s arms, before you could reach for him, pull him back where he belonged – with Din, with you – the Jedi turned on his heel and retreated back toward the lift at the end of the corridor, the little astromech trailing along behind him.

Grogu peered up over his new guardian’s shoulder the entire way, his dark eyes fixed on Din. You drew your lips between your teeth and bit down hard to stifle your sobs as you took in the Mandalorian’s expression – dark eyes wet and shining but cheeks dry, the tip of his nose red, the little encouraging smile that flashed across his mouth for the briefest of moments before disappearing, unable to sustain itself in the face of his grief. His fingers twitched ineffectually down at his sides, as though fighting the urge to reach out his hands to the boy, and the muscles in his jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth.

He would not let his son see him cry.

He was so strong, your sweet bounty hunter.

When the Jedi reached the lift, he turned back around to face the bridge, rotating Grogu in his grip so he could do the same. A subtle nod and a barely-there smile of reassurance from Din, and then the lift door slid closed with painful finality, and they were gone.

---

You weren’t certain how long you and the other members of the boarding party stood there after that, silent and more than a little off-kilter from the emotional and physical whiplash of the last 15 minutes. The sickening, all-consuming threat of the Dark Trooper platoon. The threat on Bo-Katan’s life and her subsequent injury. The threat on Grogu’s life and the near-death experiences of both you and Din attempting to keep him safe. The arrival of a Jedi. The departure of the child that each and every one of you had fought and killed to save, to bring home to the man who loved him like a son.

With the boy gone, the mission was over. Not a failure, but it also didn’t feel quite like a success because you knew he would not be leaving with you when you departed the light cruiser. And Moff Gideon had been captured and subdued, which was certainly a victory, but Bo-Katan still did not have possession of the Darksaber and thus was no closer to her goal of ascending the Mandalorian throne.

So many weeks of preparation, so many favors called in, so much blood spilled, and you could not help but feel as though you were not much better off than you had been after departing Tython. You needed to remind yourself that at the very least, Grogu was no longer in the hands of an enemy but rather under the care of a powerful man who was the closest you had ever seen to a sorcerer outside of a holovid. If nothing else, you were confident that someone with those sorts of abilities at his disposal would be able to protect the boy from any who would do him harm, and that was substantially better than remaining in the custody of the Empire.

And, of course, there was the matter of Din’s helmet, left abandoned on the surface of a terminal a few feet away as the man continued to stare wordlessly down the corridor.

Approaching carefully, cautiously, you picked up the helmet and came to stand in front of him, looking at him head-on for the first time.

If it was possible, your bounty hunter was even more beautiful up close. From this distance, you could see the faintest strands of silver in his hair and in his stubble, and his impossibly dark eyes shone with a depth of emotion that had more of your own tears spilling down your cheeks. He was achingly handsome, but in your core, you knew that you were never meant to see him like this. This face was never meant for you.

“Din,” you murmured wetly, voice breaking as you brought his helmet up to hover over his head. “C’mon, let’s get this back on you, yeah?”

But before you could pull it down over his forehead, the Mandalorian met your gaze and placed his gloved hands gently, tenderly over yours, stopping you in mid-air. Wordlessly, his plush lower lip trembling, he shook his head and guided you to bring the helmet back down. Taking it from your grasp, he instead chose to tuck it under his arm.

“Din?” you echoed, uncertain.

Subtly, the bounty hunter shook his head and, with his free hand, cupped your jaw and drew you to him. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gesture painfully tender, and let out a soft sigh against your skin.

“It’s all right, cyare,” he breathed into your hairline, voice gravelly and coarse with grief. “Everything is as it should be.”

You felt warm wetness bloom on your skin as he gathered you close, and after a time, you could no longer tell which tears on your cheeks were yours and which were his.

---

Notes: Thank you all so much for your patience on the long wait between updates. Life got busy, and I overcommitted on Tumblr prompts, and here we are.

As I'm sure you can tell, we are coming to a close on this story in the next couple chapters. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming on this journey with me. I adore you all. <3

Mando'a Translations:

nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la - "Not gone, merely marching far away." A Mandalorian saying of remembrance roughly equivalent to "rest in peace." kyr’am - death ad - child, gender neutral riduur - spouse, gender neutral aliit - family or clan haar'chak - damn it

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #29] 'Daddy'

warnings: polaroid taking, titty compliments <3, teasing, 'daddy' but not seriously lol, busan invite!!! yaaaaay!!!

a/n: last update for 2nite cos next week will be busan hehe

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

A soft smile rests on your lips as you wake up; the heat of Jeongguk's body keeping you warm beneath your duvet. His arm is looped over your waist, and while there's nothing inherently romantic about it, you find yourself indulging in how lovely it feels. Safe. Snug. Stable.

He eventually stirs a little later than you, squeezing you closer while his legs stretch out a little bit, and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Groans.

"Morning," he says, voice gravelly, throat a little parched from the dry winter air. Your humidifier had run out of water in the night, but neither of you had been woken by the small beep that would have told you so.

Your hand drops to rest over his, and he doesn't really think much of it as he spreads his fingers for yours to sink between. It's nice, the way his body just sort of accepts yours in any capacity; the same way yours does for him. You wouldn't say you're holding hands (even if you are). Would just say you're connected. Fostering a feeling of togetherness (even if you aren't).

"Morning," you hum gently, voice also a little croaky.

Jeongguk always thinks you sound cute like this. Likes your morning voice.

You like his, too. It's a little deeper than usual. Breathy. It's just 'cause the air has dried out his throat overnight, and his vocal cords can't vibrate at their full capacity. There's logic to his lethargic-sounding voice, but you ignore it all, 'cause you like the excuse of him just being sexy.

And yet despite the attraction that comes with a husky voice, the overwhelming adoration that irritates your heart as it bubbles through your veins comes in the form of intimacy.

Jeongguk's voice sounds like this because he slept in your bed.

He sounds like this, because he feels safe enough around you to let down any and all guards.

Sure, you're no longer hunter gathers from prehistoric times, and sleeping doesn't hold the same weight as it would have done for your ancestors. There are locks on your doors in one of the safest nations in the world. To sleep doesn't mean to risk death - and yet the cautionary tales of humanity run within your veins. You're only alive because one night, thousands of years ago, someone stayed awake throughout the night to ensure their family's safety.

Falling asleep together? Well, it only confirms one thing: you're a safety zone for one another.

Or maybe not. Guess you'll never truly know.

It's all very sickening, how sweetly you think of one another. Would never admit to it. Both as bad as one another in that regard. Made for one another, some may say.

"You stayed," you say, as if Jeongguk would ever leave.

"You know I always stay," he mumbles. He's been in your bed enough times for you to know this. Why you'd ever think he'd do otherwise is beyond him. "Plus I like your shampoo. Wanna use it."

His sleepy eyes are still shut. He's only entertaining this conversation 'cause he enjoys entertaining you.

"Show up without warning, claim my bed as your own, and now you're after a shower, too?" You affectionately scold him. He squeezes you a little tighter.

"What's mine is yours, remember?" he says, echoing a statement from the night before, lips brushing against your neck so subtly that you wonder if he even realises.

He does.

"We're not married," you tell him, to which he just shrugs. Holds you even tighter, still.

"We could be."

"Would you make me sign a prenup?"

"No."

"Okay," you airily agree. It's all facetious, and carries no weight. Is just fun to joke about from time to time. Something you've done for a while, now. Will always pretend like it repulses you. "We can get married. I'll rinse you in the divorce, though."

He pouts against your skin. Huffs. "That's not fair, B."

He'd never do that to you.

"Then don't marry me," you tease, as if it's even an option. "Problem solved."

Jeongguk doesn't like this scenario.

Also doesn't like that he's started joking about marriage, 'cause he knows it's only because his brain is doing that stupid little thing it likes to do whenever he has a crush.

See, Jeongguk is bad at the whole casual thing. Made a marriage pact with Hayun before he'd even fucked her. Fancied a friend in high school and ended up studying the same optional classes as her 'cause she told him that he should. It's why he was late applying for uni. Didn't have the right set of subjects studied to be accepted onto his course, so had to take a couple extra exams.

So now he's joking with you about getting married, 'cause he's accidentally thought about it a couple of times, and doesn't wanna be the only one of you thinking about it.

It's not like they were big dreams - just little daydreams, small snippets of a 'what if' . You hardly even feature in the daydreams. Apart from that one where he imagined you both walking into a reception room after the nuptials to a crowd of your friends cheering - but, like, everyone has silly little thoughts like that! Or at least, that's what he likes to tell himself.

He's been speaking with Yoongi a lot lately about wedding plans. Decides that's what's corrupted him. He's still young. Still single. He's not ready for any of that. Not in the slightest.

"Wouldn't wanna marry you anyways," he says. "You're so not my type."

"Gguk," you deadpan. "I can feel your boner digging into my ass."

It's not a lie. It's also not because of you, you know this. Know that morning is a particularly... hard time for him.

"It's morning," he pouts. "Not my fault. I'd get a boner even if I was hugging... I don't know. A pillow. Or Jimin."

"You'd get a boner for Jimin? Does mean a threesome-"

"No," he mumbles quickly, his sleepy voice making him sound so sweet and tepid, despite the burning heat beneath his ribs. "Shush, baby. No threesome."

Baby .

A term of endearment reserved for only the most intimate of endeavours, Jeongguk has never called you it outside of sex. He knows this. You know this.

Neither of you mention it.

You simply just pretend like he never said it; like your heart isn't beating so fast you're scared it might stop.

The rule of no pet names was put in place by you; ignored by him.

Disco Ball? Fine. Whatever.

Byeol? Excusable.

B? Well, it kinda makes sense.

But baby ? God, it gets you all sorts of fucked up.

You're able to ignore the way it makes you feel, usually. Too distracted by his lips, or the need to keep yourself from coming undone. Like this, when you're being kept warm by his body, but his touches are as innocent as his voice is sleepy, it's different.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a little bit scared. He's so good with your fears, but they still exist. You've just been holding a pillow over your eyes for a few months.

The pillow is gone now; just you, him, and the cinematic-scale fears your harbour in your heart.

"A threesome would be good for you," you say, not really believing it. "You're wasted on just one girl."

He squeezes you a little tighter, for the billionth time within a fifteen-minute window. "No, I'm not."

It's lovely to indulge in such a declaration.

It means nothing, in the grand schemes of things - just that Jeongguk thinks you're worthy of his body - and yet it feels a little weightier than it really should do. It's almost as if there are rocks tied to his words, but they're disguised in pretty satin scarves, wrapped up and hidden away, only felt when they get tied to you and drag you down. Head in the clouds, feet on the ground typa shit. The kinda feeling that makes you wanna write poetry, but you haven't written anything of any substance since Seokjin.

There's a quiet sadness to the way that your broken heart always seems to spill onto pages of notebooks, but the things you really want to shout about? The things that make you smile? They never make it onto the pages of your journals.

You keep these feelings all bottled up. Wax sealed. A daisy dried into the imprint. Just for you. Yours, all yours. No one can steal them that way. They're safe.

Like you are right now; Jeongguk holding you in such a way that lets you know you'll never be truly alone, as long as he's in your life.

You're grateful.

And it terrifies you.

You know that Jeongguk is withholding something that will only hurt you.

Have done since he showed up at your place after the last Dionysus night.

Should you rip it like a band-aid, or apply pressure to stop the bleeding? It's not a choice you wanna have to make.

Yet you know you need to.

Quietly, you muster up your courage. Untangle your fingers from his. Remain in your little spoon position, but busy your hands with picking off flakes of glitter from your forearm.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" you ask, a little apprehensive of the answer you could get.

Jeongguk's grip on you doesn't ease. He keeps you close, for fear of you wanting to leave. He won't stop you, if you do, but he wants you to know that he wouldn't like that. Wants you close, even if his past actions might push you away.

He sighs. Inhales. Loves the scent of your shampoo. Your sheets. You . Your smell , his brain corrects. Loves the way you smell. Not you. God no. Fuck. No. Not at all-

"Hm?" You encourage a response, knowing that Jeongguk is probably letting his thoughts get away from him.

When things get intimate, Jeongguk's thoughts tend to go awry. He voices the most unhinged shit he thinks of, just because he can. Says stuff he'd never dream of saying otherwise.

Contrarily, in moments of vulnerability (though his thoughts are very much still awry) he stays silent. It's a curious contradiction, but one you've grown used to. You don't mind it. Understand it. Understand him.

Eventually, he speaks up. "You really wanna know?"

Sitting, you twist your body to face his. Back against your bedroom wall, you pull your legs up to your chest. "Mhhm."

Your body language says 'absolutely not', and Jeongguk knows this. Sits up too. Lets your duvet pool around his impossibly slim waist, abs on show, and the freckle on his ribs that you adore so much says 'hello'. A teeny tiny tummy roll (thanks to how awfully he's been eating during exam season) reminds you that he's still human. Still lovely, regardless. Lovely, and warm, and a little forlorn in his gaze.

It doesn't linger on you. Drops to his fingers, which twiddle in his lap. He shakes his head, hair waving ever so delicately around his pretty features. His lips part. Words try to come out. Silence prevails.

"I already know," you say quietly, to which his eyes find you again. You're looking down, now. He hates this. Hates that it's his actions that have caused it. "I mean, I don't know know. I just know something happened with Hayun."

"How?" he asks quietly. He's not rude, nor confrontational. Just curious.

You shrug. "Intuition?"

Got a shit-bag ex who taught me all the warning signs, your brain corrects you.

He seems to accept this answer, so you don't elaborate.

He's quite forthcoming, when he admits to the truth. States it plainly, just like he did with Jimin.

"She kissed me."

"When?" You ask, wanting a timeline. Thinks it might help you understand his thought process if you know the steps that led him to your apartment that night. "Where?"

He battles with his mind for a moment, but his heart wins. Honesty is owed.

"Um, like, outside. The courtyard area-"

"New years," you say quietly, not to interrupt, just to connect dots in your own head. It's embarrassing, the way shame drowns you out. It's like you're spluttering for air, but in reality, you're stoic. Not moving a muscle.

"New years," he echoes. Hates this.Wishes the conversation would just stop. Knows it can't. "We were talking and-"

"I don't need the ins and outs," you interrupt, suddenly changing your mind.

Now that he's giving you specifics, it's just making you feel worse.

That's the most confusing part, you think. You've been feeling fine about things - and yet now, seeing his guilt? Makes you feel like maybe you should feel awful, too.

Jeongguk looks down. Purses his lips. "I know. I just don't want you getting the wrong impression."

"My impression is that you kissed Hayun and then came and fucked me," you sigh, bitterly disappointed. It's exactly what you've been assuming ever since that night, but the confirmation still stings.

"No, see, that is the wrong impression, B," Jeongguk stresses. You're so casual and flippant about things, but Jeongguk knows it was anything but. "It wasn't as linear as that. I know it sounds shitty-"

"It does."

"-But it really wasn't like that at all."

It doesn't matter.

You feel like a cheap consolation prize, regardless. Sort of like Jeongguk only came to you because Hayun decided she didn't want him after all.

It's stupid really. Your pride is getting in the way of things. Your disdain for Hayun? Even more so.

If he explained the what, the when, the why, the who, the how, you'd know that Jeongguk really didn't mean to make so many bad decisions. The only good decision that night, he thinks, was coming to see you - but even that, he managed to fuck right up.

The thing that pushed Jeongguk to leave Dionysus that night?

Wasn't Hayun. Wasn't Danbi rightfully giving him a piece of her mind. Wasn't any of that.

It was a choice that he had made earlier in the night.

Sick of his eyes searching for you in the crowd and always drawing blanks, Jeongguk had gone searching for you. Yeonjun had no clue where you were at this point, and had suggested maybe you'd already left.

You hadn't. Were just in the girls bathroom with Danbi, and some college girls who were in awe of the glitter (so naturally, you were turning them into glitter girlies too, free of charge).

Nonethewiser, Jeongguk tried his luck dipping from the club and heading to the next street over to where the arcade was. Less than a minute walk. Again, you were nowhere to be found - but the machine you had been at was currently free of punters.

Sure, maybe he spent a little too long trying to win the My Melody plushie, but he was drunk , and it felt important . He almost gave up after he got the Cinnamoroll, but couldn't. Had convictions. Was determined. Was gonna get your stupid, adorable plushie no matter what.

And he did.

Of course he did.

He's Jeongguk. There's nothing he can't do, when his heart's really in it.

Looked for you upon his return. Didn't realise you were still in the bathrooms, this time consoling a girl who had just seen her boyfriend kissing one of her friends. Classic, really. A little liquor and so many men seem to think that cheating is okay. Will cry about it being a mistake, but you know damn well the mistake is getting caught in the act, not the act itself.

His final port of call had been the staff room. Tossed the plushie down on the sofa. Sighed. Lamented the way things had changed since you'd last been together in Dionysus. Knew it was all his fault. Wondered if it was really worth it.

If Hayun was worth it.

He knows the answer, now. Had to experience it to really be sure, but he already knew. Deep down, he always has done.

But she'd entered the staff room when he was all sad and doe-eyed over you, and convinced herself that maybe it was her making him feel this way. Invited him to get some air. He'd needed a friend. Had lied to himself so well about the nature of the relationship that she was only ever a friend, he had seemed to think maybe she was. Maybe it'd be good to talk with her.

Lessons have been learned. Mistakes made. Decisions done.

"Should have told you first, I know," he says quietly, eyes on his hands. Looks up at you. Wishes you would look at him. "I'm sorry, Byeol. I'm sorry, and if I could re-do the events of that night, I would - butI I can't, so. This is where we're at. Fucked up, then I fucked you. Kinda poetic, in a way."

You snort out a disapproving laugh. "Yeah, if you were a teenager on tumblr in 2014."

"Not even gonna pretend to know what that is," he says, genuinely clueless to what a tumblr is, and why 2014 is relevant. "But B, we both know I didn't come here that night with the intention of fucking you, I never... Look, I'm sorry that I let it happen. All I can do is promise you that it won't happen again."

Men have promised they'd move mountains for you before. You'll believe it when you see it.

"What won't happen again?" you ask, a little petulantly. "You fucking me, or you kissing Hayun?"

Being childish right now will do no one any favours.

Will make you feel vindicated for a split second, mind you.

"Well..." Jeongguk begins, but stops himself from finishing.

He means Hayun.

Is done with it. Done with her.

Hates what's become of your friendship since her return. The loss of your closeness aches more than the residual pining feelings for her have ached in the last year. The way he once felt about her is not representative of who he is now.

"Well?"

"Well, kissing is intimate," Jeongguk says with a curt sense of authority. He's speaking your opinions as if they're universal truths.

"It is," you agree.

"I don't really think it's appropriate to be intimate with a girl my best friend hates."

"Hate is a strong word," you say, hiding a smile.

"I think it's just the right strength, here."

You know what Jeongguk is saying. He's speaking in tongues, but you're well acquainted with his. It's easy to decipher.

Yet you're an insolent little brat when you want to be, and so you twist his words. Not to be malicious, just to get confirmation.

"Hayun told me she was your best friend," you tell him. "And I'm pretty sure she hates me, so... you're saying we shouldn't kiss?"

"You rarely ever let me kiss you anyways, B," Jeongguk reminds you with a fond smile. Thinks he'd settle with never kissing you again if it meant he still got to banter with you. "But no, you idiot. Hayun says a lot of shit. You shouldn't listen to her. You're my best friend."

He's heard it with his own ears. Had always shrugged her mean comments off. Hasn't been able to shake the way he heard her speak about you. Tried, for a while. Just ended up making him feel like a shitty friend.

You deserve people in your corner. If Danbi was acting like besties with someone who had been cruel about you, he'd be pissed off. Thinks she had every right to criticise him in the way she had on that evening.

Despite being at his little party last night, Danbi had barely spoken to him.

Had looked at his neck. Raised her brows. Asked, "Well, are you being nice to her? I sure hope you are. And I sure hope those are from her, otherwise you're in for a world of pain, my friend," and then walked away before Jeongguk could even reply.

Danbi scares him.

Is pretty sure she scares Tae, too, but he seems to get off on that. To each their own, and all that.

"B, I don't wanna fight with you," he says, holding out his hand.

For reasons you can't, or simply won't, explain, you accept it. Toy with his fingers as your hands rest on top of your duvet. Trace his knuckles. Admire his tattoos. Relish in the serenity of him.

"Don't wanna fight, either," you sigh. Glance up at him, only to realise he's looking at you with such crestfallen need for forgiveness that it feels like the only thing you can do. "And, hey, maybe it was good. Me being mad at you gave me a little push in the right direction."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. His skin feels all hot. Prickly. He doesn't like it. "How so?"

You think nothing of it as you admit to the date you had last night. Jeongguk asks for his name. Nods when you tell him it. Asks for specifics. His career path - "sounds boring" ; his hobbies - "meh" ; his charms - "I have a dimple, too. See? Look, and I get dimples when I smile like this, too!"

As you're explaining the night before, Jeongguk is hunting for one of his shirts amongst your clothes. Says he wants to get a drink from the convenience store.

In reality, he just doesn't wanna have to look you in the eyes, just in case they sparkle for Seojoon.

"You're too competitive for your own good, Gguk," you laugh. "I'm not gonna ditch you for another guy. Unlike some of us , I'll keep my best friend around even if I do fall disastrously in love."

"Okay, one - I kept you around!" He protests, rummaging through the clothes on your desk chair for one of his shirts. There's definitely one in the pile. You're sure of it. "Two - who said anything about love ? I wasn't! Are you going to be in love?!"

Jeongguk can never really hide his emotions. He tries. Really hard. Always fails. His competitive edge is showing now in a way that it never has done before. He really is feeling threatened by Seojoon.

He's stupid, you think. You're not gonna ditch him. Would miss him too much.

Sure, you'll need to iron out the nature of your sleepovers, but that'll just be a small change - and fuck ! You've only been on one date. Hardly falling in love, are you?

"No!" You laugh. "Christ, Gguk. It's only been one date."

"But there's gonna be more?" He asks, still rummaging. Has already found a shirt. Just doesn't wanna face you right now. "You're gonna see him again?"

"Well maybe," you admit. "I don't know yet. He hasn't asked."

Jeongguk pretends like he isn't satisfied with that answer.

Again, he fails to compel this narrative. The little hum he chirps gives him away.

But then he's thinking about the reason you went on that stupid date in the first place, and wants to explain himself again. Really wants you to know how shitty he feels about it.

"About the Hayun stuff," Jeongguk begins, glancing over to you, but you just shake your head.

"Why waste your time explaining it away?" You ask with a small shrug and eyes so sincere Jeongguk thinks you could end world wars. Eyes he thinks he'd go to war for .

Silly thoughts, for a silly boy, who's engaging in silly conversations that makes his heart feel anything but silly.

It feels serious. Stern. Secure in his understanding of his feelings, but too scared to do anything about them. Especially now.

"I don't love your choices," you continue, not trying to be critical, but wanting him to understand why you aren't lingering on the situation. "But we learn from our bad decisions, no? We make mistakes so that in future we can make things right."

"It doesn't mean I shouldn't feel bad about it," he says quietly, eyes down.

"Well, what will beating yourself up about it do? Will just make you feel crappy - and like, don't get me wrong, I think you deserve to feel shitty for fucking me without telling me-"

"I do."

"But I'm not hung up on it," you stress. Really, you're not. "You feeling bad about it will make me feel like I should feel bad about it."

If Jeongguk was elated about his choices, enthusing about Hayun, then yes - you'd feel awful.

Thing is, his distress is written all over his pouty little face. There's nothing about even kissing her that he seems to enjoy. Not anymore.

Or at least, even if he liked it in the moment, the aftermath seems to have catapulted him into a near-permanent state of disgust. That's enough to make you feel alright about things.

"Okay," you sigh when you see his frown hasn't eased up. "Tell me one thing: do you still want her?"

The way Jeongguk recoils with a crease between his brows almost instantly says it all.

"Christ, B. No. Obviously not"

Cherry on top.

"Well, I mean she can have you," you tease, pleased to be smiling through such a conversation. Progress has been made.

"I don't want her," he insists, and it really does boost your ego.

"Should have thought about that then, shouldn't you?" You smirk with a raised brow.

Jeongguk throws his shirt at you. Whines. "Cut me some slack, B. I said I'm sorry."

The conversation dissolves into nothingness - Jeongguk asking you what you want from the shop, and you asking him what he wants to watch on Netflix when he gets back. Will only be gone for a few minutes, but it'll give you a chance to breathe and process the morning's revelations.

He slips on a pair of your jeans - mom cut, and shrugs when he looks in the mirror. Thinks they don't look too bad. A bit baggy, and loose on his hips thanks to your curves, but nothing that a belt can't solve. For a quick run to the shop? They're fine. Will do the job. Saves him from wearing sweats again, and given his near-constant state of boner this morning, sweats are not a wise idea.

The waistband of his Calvins peek out from the top of the jeans, framing his hips like they're a work of art deserving a place in the Louvre.

You sort of think they are. Think he's got a body that deserves to be admired. Worshipped. Appreciated. Know that you're more than capable of doing all of those things.

"Take a picture," he smirks, when he catches you looking.

You're unashamed.

Sure, your cheeks blush a little bit, but you just keep drinking in the sight of him. So often his body is shrouded in darkness when your hands are running over it - but you can see him, now. See the ridges of his abs, and the way they move ever so gently as he exerts a little energy.

Nodding towards the shelf just behind him, where your old polaroid sits prettily amongst some other tat, you smirk right back. "Gimmie it and I will."

You expect shyness - and get shyness, Jeongguk's smile a little scrunched as a soft giggle escapes his lips - but you don't expect for him to actually reach over for it.

"How do you work this thi- oh!" He exclaims as he presses down on the button that extends the lens.

It's not a proper polaroid, just an old instax that has seen better days, but it does the job well enough for you not to trade it in.

Honestly, you rarely use it these days. Maybe once a year, if you're lucky. You've no idea if it has any film in it - but as Jeongguk points it towards you, not bothering to adjust the exposure settings ('cause he doesn't realise it's needed) and presses down on the shutter button, it's confirmed that there is, indeed, still film in it.

"Oh, shit," he laughs, as if he wasn't the one who very deliberately took a photo.

He's not that stupid. He knows how cameras work. The mechanical whir as the photograph pushes itself out of the slot is nostalgic; a reminder of times that were simple.

He shakes the polaroid a little as he passes the camera over to you, looking at the empty photograph with a small pout.

"Takes a couple of minutes," you explain. "Put it on my desk, let it develop."

He does as he's told, believing you without hesitation. You've honestly no idea what you're supposed to do while they process.

Shake it - no! Don't shake it. Keep it out of the light. No! Give it light! No put it in the light for a minute only.

Everything you've ever been told about polaroids has been contradictory, and you enjoy the chaos too much to actually figure things out.

Holding the polaroid camera to your eye, you're smiling as Jeongguk decides to pose like an absolute tool. Muscles tensed, arms up in swan position, he looks like he's trying to compete for a place in Men's Health magazine.

"You're so stupid," you murmur affectionately.

"Stupid hot ," he corrects.

"Mmm," you hum as you press down on the shutter button, a flash lighting up your room. "Like a real-life Calvin Klein model."

He pings the top of his briefs against his skin with a teasing wiggle of his brows.

"Careful, or you'll speak it into existence," he assures you. "And then everyone will want me."

"So?" You laugh. "Am I supposed to feel threatened?"

Jeongguk's met many girls in his lifetime. Watched many on screen, and seen just as many in magazines. Gorgeous women. Beautiful women. The kind of women he'd be lucky to have - and yet, if were to be honest about his feelings for once in his damn life, he'd say 'no' .

No Hollywood star could ever compare to his star.

Instead, he deflects.

"Threatened? Huh," he smirks. Shakes his head to the side, like a dog with an itch. He's quite puppy-like, when you think about it. All doe-eyed and charming. Exquisitely cuddly and notoriously boisterous. Cute - and yet that smirk of his? The toned muscles of his chest? Sin . "You jealous?"

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."

Jeongguk presses his lips together, still smiling. Nods. Eyes sparkling, his tongue toys with his lip ring a little, the freckle beneath his bottom lip on full display.

Shakes his head. "I think that's a lie."

Oh, how insufferably right he is - but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction, even if you're both well aware of it.

"I've never been jealous in my life," you say with a small giggle as Jeongguk prowls towards the bed. You lift the polaroid to your eye, and press down on the shutter button once more.

He doesn't imagine it's a great angle.

He's wrong.

"No?" He flirts, taking the camera from your hands as he gets himself between your legs.

He's sitting on his knees, with his thighs hooked beneath your legs. The hand that isn't holding your camera - the tattooed one - pushes the shirt you're wearing up a little. Reveals your underwear, and the bottom of your cute little tummy. There's a softness to you that he likes. Gets him hard .

"Shame," he shrugs. "I get jealous."

"I could tell," you assure him, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute. Something about Jeongguk like this - half-dressed, Calvins, body on show just for you - really gets you all hot and bothered.

The tips of his fingers stroke your skin, until they meet the top of your lace underwear. His thumb dips. Presses down on your clit, the thin piece of material the only obstruction.

You gasp, because of course you do, and Jeongguk feels vindicated. Thinks he'll never need to be jealous, 'cause no one is ever gonna make you feel like he does. Knows that he'll try his goddamn hardest to keep things as they are right now, 'cause he's had a taste of what it could feel like to lose you.

He doesn't want that - and yet he feels the need to preserve things as they are, just in case. Knows that Seojoon exists, and doesn't like the prospect of what that could mean for the future.

He raises the camera to his eye. Looks down at you.

"Chess?" He asks, giving you the option of an 'out' that only the two of you understand.

"You finally gonna teach me how to play?" You banter back, knowing that he wasn't asking you to play. He's checking consent before he presses on the shutter button.

It will produce just a single image. One for you to keep; proof that once upon a time, Jeon Jeongguk had touched you so indecently angels would weep. The sins you commit with him feel like heaven on earth, so how could they blame you? You're sure when you reach the pearly gates, they'll understand - though heaven wouldn't really be worth it, you think. Not when you've already experienced Nirvana with him.

"Not if you don't want me to," he says, his intentions thinly veiled as he lowers the camera to look at you.

There's innocence in his dark eyes; an elixir you just want to bottle up to preserve for a rainy day. His thumb is still pressed against your most intimate of areas, languid in its subtle movements, just to remind he's there. Willing. Wanting. Waiting.

"So chess, or no chess?"

He's too far away for your hands to reach him properly, so you simply tap beneath his hand to encourage the camera further up, indicating that he should realign it with his sight.

"No chess."

Slow as he makes sure he's got the perfect angle, Jeongguk presses deeper against you. Has you humming in anticipation of more substantial touches.

The camera flashes, a mechanical buzz accompanying your bated breaths. He can't have captured much, you think, knowing the camera well. Will likely just be his hand, probably, and the part of you it was taking ownership of.

The photo begins to slide out of the slot at the top of the camera, but Jeongguk's hands are full. He nips the edge with his teeth. Pulls it out. Keeps it there. Realigns the camera. Lets go of your pussy to push your shirt up your stomach.

"Up," he instructs, teeth gritted thanks to the polaroid, letting you take over the removal of your shirt. Your body is bare, save for the pair of underwear he's been toying with, your chest now his to play with - but he doesn't. Not really. Just holds one of your tits in his firm grip. Tells you to hold the other one. You comply. The camera flashes again.

He spits the polaroid between his teeth to the side. It's developing now. He doesn't dare look at it. Another, arguably worse one is printing out anyways. Again, his teeth nip at the edge and pull it out.

"You'll use all the film," you say softly, a fondness to the way you're scolding him. He discards the polaroid between his teeth, a smile on his pretty lips.

"I'll buy you more," he says as his hand strokes up your chest and sinks to where your bird should be. "Still missing a necklace."

Oh, on the contrary, you think.

"Shame."

Camera still by his eye, Jeongguk lines up the perfect shot: the top of your chest, collarbones sparkling in your bedroom light, his hand wrapped around the base of your throat. Careful not to include your face, he thinks it's a shame. Would have quite liked your pouty lips as part of the picture, too.

He squeezes his hand as the camera flashes.

Pulling the polaroid out with his fingers this time, he shakes it gently. Finds the other photos scattered around your body and tosses them in a neat pile beside your bed.

"Gimmie," you say, scrunching your hands out in a bid to retrieve the camera. There's no protest. He sort of wants you to take pictures of him, too.

Wants evidence that you once wanted him as badly as he seems to want you.

"Where do you want me?" He asks, a little shy now the camera is back on him.

Aligning focus, you hold out your hand, and let the tips of your fingers trail down the ridges of his torso. Jeongguk glances down to watch your hand, so focused on your dainty touches that he barely even notices the flash going off.

"Only two shots left," you say quite contently as you perch the camera on your bedside table, the polaroid still printing. You'll check it later. "Should save them for something important."

He raises a brow. Looks genuinely confused. "Your tits are important."

With a laugh, you shake your head, hair tangling against your pillow. Cupping your tits for a little support (and warmth) you simply say, "not if you're an ass guy."

Jeongguk's whole entire face scrunches up, to the point where his lip ring does the thing, but you can't focus on it. He looks too cute. Stroking the tops of your thighs adoringly, Jeongguk sighs.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not an ass guy anymore, but, like - shit , B."

He reaches up to rest his hands over yours, but you slide yours out so that his are making direct contact with your tits. Putting your hands back on top of his, you encourage him to squeeze them, which earns you a whine from his prettily pouted lips.

"Love your tits. Absolutely corrupted me, they have."

"I know," you say smugly. "You're welcome."

"I'm not thanking you," he laughs, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The arching of your back gets his cock throbbing. You're so easy to work up. So is he, though. "Ruined me."

He loves your laugh, but loves it catching in your throat as he spanks the soft flesh of your chest even more so.

He doesn't let the sting linger; soothes your skin immediately. Mutters to himself, with a shake of his head. "Absolutely ruined."

"Careful," you tease. "Or I'll start thinking you're a tit guy."

"I'll eat your ass just to prove I'm not," he banters back - but then you twist beneath him. Get on your front. Ass up for him, just how he likes.

"Alright, then," you challenge.

"B," he husks, gripping onto your ass with one hand and stroking down your arched back with the other. Poised so that you can see the mirror across the room, there's something sordid about watching Jeongguk like this.

Desire becomes him. There's nothing about his mind, body nor soul that doesn't want you in this moment, and it's written all over his skin. He has to have you. Will simply die if he can't.

"Yeah?" You reply sweetly, and he just knows you're gonna be in one of those moods - a mood he loves, but a mood he knows is no good for the way you make his heart beat these days.

"Behave yourself," he husks. "We both know we shouldn't."

It hasn't been discussed, but he's got a point. You know you should be practising a little more self-restraint.

"I won't tell if you don't."

His grip gets tighter. Jiggles your soft flesh a little. Gets him gritting his teeth. Cursing.

Your body jolts forward as he spanks you, just once. It's so satisfying.

"Shouldn't play with your food before you eat it," you smirk, knowing just the way to wind him up.

Yeah, Jeongguk thinks to himself. You're definitely one of those moods.

It's the bratty type. The 'wind him up just because it's fun' type - but two can play at that game.

"Want me to eat it, huh?" He husks.

"Mhmm," you whine a little as he massages your skin.

His hands are strong, but his determination to not let your brattiness win? Oh, even more so.

"God, you're filthy for me, aren't you baby?" He husks. Knows how much baby gets you. Uses it deliberately.

"Mhmm," is all you can whine in anticipation of something, anything, to relieve the ache in your pussy. Have been horny all week, but unable to act upon it without thinking about him - and you were mad at him. Didn't wanna be thinking about him at all, let alone as you came.

"My pretty little slut, aren't you?" He praises, fingers toying with your lace underwear. The slickness of your pussy seeps through the fabric. Gets him all wet and dirty, just how he likes it. "Cunt just begging to be fucked, but it's your ass you want eaten."

"Koo," you whine .

He's rarely ever mean in bed, but it always gets you even hornier than usual when he is. It's the juxtaposition, you think. A man as kind and charming as Jeongguk should not be as unhinged as you know he truly is.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" He laughs. "Don't fuckin' do it."

It's not that he doesn't like it. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He likes it too much.

"Why not?" You ask, because again, it's one of those moods - so Jeongguk decides that if you wanna fuck with him, he's gonna fuck with you instead.

"'Cause you're gonna address me properly, aren't you, baby?" He says, thankful you aren't looking at him, 'cause a smile is tugging at his lips.

He's got a plan. Doesn't know if you'll play along. Hopes you will. Knows that there's no way you'll fuck him if it goes right - and that's sort of what he's hoping for. The pair of you simply have no self-control, so he's trying to create some.

"What am I gonna call you?" You whine as he rubs over your panties with his long fingers.

"What do you think, baby?" he teases. "Use that pretty little head of yours, baby girl."

God. You're gonna die.

"Koo," you whine, because of course you do. There's only one name that compliments baby girl - and you don't wanna say it.

What you do want? Right now? Is for Jeongguk to fuck you so hard it makes you booking the entire day off worth it.

"Uh, uh, baby," he says as he holds your cunt. Absolutely takes ownership of it. Gets you all whimpery and whiney - and when he starts being nice? Oh, fuck . You're done for. Death imminent. "Use that pretty, perfect brain of yours. You're so smart, aren't you? You know what to call me."

Jeongguk would be lying if he said his cock wasn't throbbing. Your mom jeans - the ones that were baggy - appear tight now, thanks to his hardness.

You take a second. Assess how much dignity you stand to lose from 'addressing him properly', and decide you're too horny to care.

"You think I'm smart, Daddy?"

Glorious , Jeongguk thinks. Not the name. Just that he managed to get you to say it, and mean it. His power knows no bounds. This is fucking fantastic .

"There you go, baby girl," he praises, pushing your panties to the side so that he can get a good look at just how messy you are. He thinks he'll die almost immediately. "So smart. You like being smart for me, don't you?"

You can't believe you're gonna say it again. And yet -

"Yes, Daddy," you nod into your pillows, 'cause the anticipation of Jeongguk doing something - anything - to your pussy right now is simply too much.

" Too smart, almost. I'm gonna have to fuck you so hard you can't think straight," he tells you. Smirks to himself. His breathy laugh echoes around the room. "Gonna be a dumb slut on my cock, aren't you?"

"Fuck," you moan, not willing to subject yourself to another 'daddy' - but Jeongguk pushes his luck.

"Who?" he insists. "Who you gonna be fucking?"

You roll your eyes, not that he can see it. Can't believe you're doing this. Can't believe you kinda like it, either. "You, Daddy."

"Hmm," Jeongguk hums with great satisfaction, giving you a very gentle but curt spank, before rolling back down beside you.

You're confused. Worried .

And then Jeongguk is chuckling to himself. "That was easier than I thought."

You sit up instantly.

Mouth ajar, you turn your head judgmentally, reaching a conclusion that is gonna earn Jeongguk the bluest balls he's ever had. You'll make sure of it.

"What?!"

"What?" He smirks right back.

"That was easy? " You question, still confused, but also aware that despite the raging boner he has, a fuck is not what he's after.

Maybe he wants to be blue balled.

Weirdo.

"Yeah," he smirks, then fucking giggles to himself. "I got you calling me Daddy . God, you're so willing to do anything for my cock, B. It's so cute."

His smile prevails as he giggles, finding much amusement in playing you at your own bratty game.

"Oh my God," you wail. "I fucking hate you! You know I hate 'Daddy'."

"And yet you'll do it for my cock," he laughs even harder, now. "Oh, it's adorable. Really really sweet."

"I'm ending our friendship."

"No you aren't," he tells you, reaching for your wrist to pull you back down into your sheets with him - and for reasons you (again) don't care to explain, you just let him.

"I am," you assure him, even though you're kinda now snuggling into him.

"Don't disobey your daddy, baby," he jokes.

"I'll send him to an early grave if he isn't careful," you warn, but it only cracks him up even more.

"So you admit it?" he teases. "I am your Daddy?"

"Oh my God!"

"I'm your God, too? Wow, you really are being kind today-"

He's interrupted by your dainty hands covering his mouth. "Shut your face."

Jeongguk just laughs. Knows he'll probably just make it up to you with a quick fuck, if you let him.

The cursed thing about it all?

You probably will let him.

'Cause even though you hate Daddy, and you hate feeling embarrassed, and you hate not understanding your feelings, you do understand that nothing feels quite as calm as the aftermath of time spent in bed with Jeongguk.

It's the orgasms, you tell yourself. He makes you calm when he makes you cum. There's probably a science behind it. You're not gonna google it, 'cause you don't wanna be proven wrong.

"Put a shirt on," you huff. "You're paying for the snacks this time. You owe me, like, I don't know. Three weeks worth of snacks for that little stunt."

And so when Jeongguk returns from the shop a little while later, you're pleased to see he really did buy enough snacks to last at least a month, if not longer.

"Was meaning to ask you," Jeongguk says as he unpacks one of the bags while you scroll through the Netflix home page. "When are you next in work?"

You're yet to tell him you booked the day off because of his exam. Now Wednesday, you have Thursdays off as usual. The Friday shift pattern changes most weeks depending on who needs it off, but this week, you've managed to get it off, too. Saturday will be your first shift.

"Well," Jeongguk says. "I missed a bunch of family events 'cause I was studying all the time. I'm probably gonna head over to Busan this evening just to show my face for a night or two. Keep mum happy."

"That's cute," you smile. "She'll appreciate it, I'm sure."

He nods. Knows she will. Feels bad for being a bit of a shitty son in the last few weeks.

"I know things have been a bit mad with Tae's shows, and just... Well, everything," Jeongguk staggers his words, a little unsure of himself. For once, he fears your rejection.

"Mhmm," you agree. "Been crazy."

"Yeah," he nods. "Sea air helps, though. You wanna come with?"

"To Busan?" you clarify.

For some reason, it feels like your heart is in your throat. You might throw it up entirely.

"To Busan," he reinforces. Turns to face you. "With me. Busan. You wanna come?"

"Do you want me to come?" You ask, not wanting to be a charity case 'cause he feels bad about the whole 'Daddy' thing.

Jeongguk doesn't feel bad about the 'Daddy' thing in the slightest. He genuinely just wants you to come with him.

"I'll get bored on the drive if I'm alone," he shrugs. "Plus mum keeps asking why I don't have a girlfriend yet and if I introduce her to someone as repulsive as you, maybe she'll stop insisti-

"Oh fuck you," you laugh. "Mothers love me."

"Yeah, sure they do," he teases, knowing full well his mum will think you're the greatest thing he's brought home since his first-grade report card.

"I'll prove you wrong," you say, not that you have to. Jeongguk is just winding you up. "Your mum is gonna like me more than she likes you."

"So you're gonna come with?"

You bite down on your bottom lip. Ignore the conventions of a relationship that are looming over the pair of you both. Nod.

"Yeah. I'll come with."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[catofaurora]

Sky spirits be like Agitated Dancer, Jolly Politician, Grumbling Janitor, Fumbling Copywriter, Lethargic Carpenter etc etc

...and then there's Hunter.

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Van Helsing not being a vampire hunter adds more to his character actually because he was just called in to consult on a strange illness and yet he came all the way from Amsterdam with:

Crushed communion wafers

Multiple crucifixes

At least one gun, probably more

Knives (a kukri at that)

Electric lamps that can be attached to the chest (cutting edge tech in 1897, the dry cell battery had been patented the year before and flashlights wouldn't be invented for another two years)

Lockpicks

Possibly several plants? Unless he picked them up in England

For a seasoned vampire hunter, this makes sense. For a world renowned doctor consulting on a lethargic patient, this looks like a very specific kind of Good Catholic Boy who is also prepared to commit crimes at any moment.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 17

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 16

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, teasing, groping, light smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, jealousy, mentions of adult material, arguing, crying, mentions of violence, light angst, fluff

Word Count: 9k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 17: Working Girl

Monday, April 24th, 1989

Eddie's alarm clock blares loudly in the room on Monday morning, yanking you out of your blissful slumber at 8:30AM. You smack around his bedside table lazily, not bothering to look at what you're doing. You eventually locate the offending object, snoozing it into submission. "Mm." You groan, turning over in bed to nuzzle into Eddie's chest. He stirs slightly, pulling you closer with his arms.

"Morning, sweetheart." Eddie says, his voice drenched in sleep. His eyes flutter open, finding you burrowed between him and the blanket.

"No...more sleep." You grumble against his skin, wrapping your arms around his torso and not planning to let go anytime soon.

"Princess, we gotta get up. I'll make you breakfast, and we can have a little fun in the shower if you want. But I have to go to work sometime today." He speaks soothingly, tempting you with food and sex, which he knows are your weaknesses.

"Okaaaaaay. Just give me a kiss first?" You ask, peeking out of your cozy little hole to look at him.

"Of course, baby." He chuckles, softly bringing his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, allowing him to maneuver around your lethargic body to get out of bed.

"No fair. You tricked me." You pout, sitting up as he pulls on some pajama bottoms. He doesn't reply at first, tossing you one of his shirts and some panties from your bag.

"Oh, hush now, sleepyhead. We made an agreement." Eddie says in a sing-song voice. You nod with a sigh, pulling the shirt over your head. It goes almost to your knees, sure to keep you covered enough to eat in the kitchen with Wayne around. You put on your underwear, and stand up to go to the bathroom. "I'll meet you in the kitchen, babydoll." Eddie says from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Okay." You reply, rubbing your face with your hands as you try to wake up fully. You finish relieving yourself and splash some cold water on your face at the sink. The frigidness sends a welcome shock to your senses, and you dry off with the towel hanging beside the sink. You go down the hall, finding Wayne at the table and Eddie at the stove. A flash of your nightmare fills your mind for a moment, but you shake it away to take your own seat while Eddie cooks for you.

"Mornin', Y/N. How'd you sleep?" Wayne asks, a concerned look on his face.

"Much better, once Eddie calmed me down." You reply, leaving out the precise way your boyfriend did so.

"Good, I was real worried 'bout ya for a minute there." He extends his hand across the table, patting your arm lightly. His eyes seem to ask if you've brought up what you talked about to Eddie, and you shake your head. He nods, deciding to keep his trap shut for the time being.

"I appreciate it, Wayne. You're very sweet." You smile weakly, your stomach turning at the reminder of your task.

"Not making a move on my woman, are you, Wayne?" Eddie jokes as he fries up some bacon and eggs.

"Not at all, Edward. I doubt I could keep up with a spry young thing like her anyway." Wayne chuckles, pulling a smoke from his pocket and lighting it up.

"Oh, stop!" You giggle, unable to help the slight blush that rises up your neck to the apples of your cheeks. You take a cig from Eddie's pack on the table, enjoying the soothing nicotine until breakfast is ready.

"So, Y/N. Did you wanna stay here today, or should I take you back home while I'm at work?" Eddie asks as he sets everyone's plates down.

"I'll hang out here, Eds. I can clean up a bit, and keep Wayne company. I doubt it's very exciting back home right now." You reply, taking a large bite of bacon as you speak.

"Whatever you want, angel." Eddie replies sweetly, scooping up some eggs on his fork.

"Oh, and when you come back, there's something I have to talk to you about." You say as nonchalantly as you can, so as not to set off any alarms in his head.

"'Bout what?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. He looks at Wayne a moment, noticing an uneasiness in him.

"I'll tell you later, love. I don't want to put you in a bad mood before work." You feel both their eyes widen when you say that, and you realize it was probably a mistake.

"Well, now you've got me all nervous, sweetheart. You're not leaving me, are you?" He questions, half-jokingly.

"No, Eddie. Nothing like that. I promise. Just一 it's important, but it should wait until later. Okay?" You speak cautiously, trying to keep him at ease.

"If you insist." He shrugs, accepting your answer. He knows you wouldn't keep whatever it is under wraps if it wasn't important, deciding to put the thought out of mind for the time being.

You all finish your meal, and put the dirty plates in the sink. Eddie leads you by the hand to take a shower, in which he gives you a proper good-morning. He holds his hand over your mouth while he screws you from behind, keeping your sexy moans nice and quiet. You're both standing upright, his cock slamming upwards into you as the hot water cascades down your front. His other hand rubs your clit in strong circles, making you cum quickly and repeatedly until he paints your insides with his sticky load. The rest of the shower is quite rushed, as you both got a little carried away and lost track of time.

"Mm, I always forget how dashing you look in your uniform, Eds." You say from the bed as Eddie puts on his bow tie.

"Well, hopefully you'll get to wear the same thing soon, babydoll. Then we can be the prettiest people employed at The Hawk." He replies, looking back at you through the reflection in the mirror.

"I like the sound of that." You hop off the mattress, going to him as he puts his hair into a thick ponytail. You plant a warm kiss on his neck, slinging your arms over his shoulders to stroke his chest. He sighs lustfully at the contact, his eyes rolling backwards slightly.

"Princess, I can't go to work with an erection. I think Mr. Biggs might get the wrong idea." He feels himself growing in his slacks, which only gets worse when you reach downwards to palm him through the material.

"You'd think with a name like 'Biggs', he'd appreciate it." You say into his ear, nibbling his lobe as you let out a sinful laugh. You watch Eddie's face in the mirror, twisting into micro-expressions of pleasure as you touch him. He lets out little whimpers and moans, quickly turning to putty in your hand.

"Gonna make me late, sweetheart. And then neither of us will have a job." He warns, although it's impossible for him to actually want you to stop. Your touch always feels so good to him, better than anyone else ever has.

"What time do you have to be there?" You ask, rubbing even harder against him through his clothes.

"Fuck, eleven-thirty." He moans, and you turn around to glance at the clock. 10:45, plenty of time.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, Eds. You get to keep your job, and have your dick sucked." You reply, quickly whipping him around and falling to your knees. You fumble with his belt, eager to take him in your mouth.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" He asks as he watches you work as fast as you can to expose his cock. He leans against the dresser, gripping the edge of it with his hands.

"You already know the answer to that, baby." You say breathlessly, mentally cheering when you finally get his damn belt open. You unzip his pants, yanking them and his boxers halfway down his thighs. Eddie’s dick springs upwards, smacking his shirt. You take hold of it immediately, your eyes meeting his as you take its entirety into your mouth in one smooth motion.

"Shit, I love how hot and wet your mouth is, princess." He groans, his head falling backwards as your tongue swirls around his length.

Fifteen minutes later, you feel Eddie's release spill down your throat. You swallow every last drop, licking your lips once you let him go. He does himself up, and wipes the sweat off his face as you stand level with him. "Have a good day, love. I'll be counting down the minutes until you're back here with me." You say sweetly, giving him a gentle peck. You lean in the doorway of his room as he walks down the hall, watching him open and close the front door.

Once he's out of sight, you set to work tidying up Eddie's room. You make the bed, fluffing the pillows as best you can. You go through his piles of clothes around the floor, giving each item a sniff test to see what's clean and what isn't. A separate pile of his dirty clothes is formed in the corner, and you fold and organize everything else to put away. You know Eddie would rather you relax, maybe take a long nap until he returns. But you can't help it, his cluttered living space has been driving you crazy for weeks. You're far from a clean-freak, but you tend to keep your own room in order when possible, as you find mess rather distracting when you're trying to study.

There's surprisingly much less soiled clothing than you thought, which you immediately take to the washing machine. It kicks on without a hitch, and you turn your attention to the kitchen. The dishes from dinner last night and breakfast this morning are stacked inside the sink and on the counter. "You don't have to do all that, ya know. We may be men, but we can clean our own mess." Wayne says from the couch with a smoke between his lips. His tone is kind, unprotesting to whatever you choose to do.

"I'm sure you two have survived just fine before I came along. I don't mind doing it, though. Keeps my mind busy." You reply simply, turning on the faucet and plugging the drain.

"Hey, no skin off my ass if you wanna help out." He chuckles, continuing to watch The Price Is Right.

You finish up the chores in about an hour, leaving you to your own devices until four o'clock. You call Mom, letting her know where you're at, and your plan to have Eddie get you a job at the theater. She's in a pretty good mood on the phone, praising you for taking some personal responsibility. The call is brief, however, as she's taking Dustin out for some post-graduation ice cream. You hang up the phone, and go back to Eddie's room. You plop onto the bed, sighing loudly through puffed cheeks.

Ugh, I'm so bored, you think to yourself. You gaze around the newly cleaned space, from the dresser, to the posters on the wall, until your eyes land on something sticking out from under the bed. It looks like a magazine, you assume another issue of Heavy Metal. You lean over the end of the bed, stretching to grasp at the edge of the glossy pages. You manage to pull it out, and you're faced with none other than a summer edition of Playboy.

You raise an eyebrow, curiously looking to see what year it's from. 1988, the small print on the edge of the cover says. You let your intrigue get the best of you, getting down to kneel on the floor and see just how many porno mags your beloved metalhead owns. It's an absolute mess under there, crumpled beer cans and candy wrappers, pencils, old books spread about everywhere. You also find issue after issue of similarly explicit material. You do your best to scoop them all out, sorting them into chronological order. The latest you find is from January this year, long before Eddie started dating you. There's a whopping thirty magazines in total, sitting in a neat pile up to your waist on the mattress.

You flip through the pages of each one, investigating the contents to find what all the fuss is about. There's tons of naked women splayed out on cars, or dressed like slutty versions of almost every known profession. Most of these women are skinny, blonde, and have huge 一and obviously fake一 tits. You're not offended by what you're looking at, but you wonder why Eddie seems to be quite the collector of such shallow things. You don't fit the clear archetype that the men who shoot, edit, and publish this 'literature' find most aesthetically pleasing. So you can't help but wonder, is this what Eddie wishes you were like?

You hate that this idea even crosses your mind. You know Eddie loves you exactly as you are. These women are just a fantasy, they aren't real. Especially not the silicone balloons attached to their chests. But another awful thought spreads through your brain after you push the previous one away. Does he still look at them when he's alone? Does he touch himself while thinking about other women? You don't want this notion to bother you so much, it's not like he's cheating on you. He'd never do that. You just want to be enough for him, you've certainly given it your all in that regard. You sigh again, setting the stack aside to ask him about later. You lay your head on the pillow, crossing your arms in annoyance with your own insecurities.

You end up passing out until Eddie comes home, and he walks in to see you sleeping beside his stash of porn. He hopes you won't be upset with him. He’d completely forgotten he still had those. He hasn't even thought about them since he slept with you the first time on that fateful Friday. He'd meant to throw them out, but as the saying goes, 'out of sight, out of mind'. "Y/N?" Eddie asks nervously, shaking your shoulder to wake you up.

"Oh, hey, Eds. How was work?" You say groggily, rubbing your eyes before sitting up. You see the frightened look on his face, his eyes trained on something in bed next to you. You follow his gaze, remembering the lewd material you found under his mattress earlier. "Oh, yeah, I found those under your bed today. I wanted to talk to you about it." You say calmly, and his expression relaxes a little.

"Okay?" He replies, changing out of his uniform and into some pajama bottoms. He climbs into bed, sitting cross-legged across from you. His fingers tap his knee anxiously, his eyes wide as he waits for you to yell at him.

"Eddie, chill out. I'm not mad. I just wanna know why you have these." You lean against the headboard, picking up one of the issues from the pile.

"Well- I mean, before I started seeing you I didn't get a lot of...attention from girls. So, I looked at those when I felt lonely." He fumbles his words, blushing harshly in embarrassment. His eyes dart around the room to avoid your questioning, eventually having no choice but to land on you.

"Okay. I can understand that. Do you still look at them?" You continue, and you open the magazine so the pages are split equally between your hands. You bring your fingers to the top of the spine, and proceed to rip the whole thing right down the middle.

"No, sweetheart. I haven't even thought about them since we got together. I didn't realize I still had them under there, I'd meant to throw them out." He explains sincerely, not caring one bit as you drop the torn pages between your bodies. The various nude ladies slip apart from one another once they meet the bedspread.

"These girls all seem to look a certain way, Eds. Blonde, enormous tits, the works. Do you...wish I was more like them?" You don't mean to sound so hurt when you ask this, but you can't help it. You always doubt that you're enough for him. Or anyone, for that matter. Your flaws glare at you like flashing neon signs, and until now, Eddie has managed to stifle their harsh light. You pick up another magazine, ripping it a bit more aggressively this time.

"No, of course not! You're perfect, Y/N. You're beautiful, and sexy, and the most amazing person I know. I don't want you to think for one second that I'd change a single thing about you, angel." He reaches for your hands as the torn paper falls atop the others. "I love you, baby. You're more than enough for me." He leans over to kiss you affectionately, and takes one of the mags into his own hands. "You wanna help me out, princess?" He smiles, tearing along the seam to demonstrate his loyalty to you. You just nod, a single tear running down your face as you lift another from the stack. It's such a relief that your fears are unfounded, that this man wants you and only you.

The two of you frantically tear apart every last issue, the pages flying about haphazardly as you go. They litter the entire surface of the bed, and the floor. It's like a printing press threw up in here. You each take one end of the last, and newest, magazine. And with a shared grin, you both pull against the grain to make one final, satisfying riiiiiiip through the salacious images. You toss your halves into the air, pouncing on one another as they rain down upon you. Eddie lays over you first, but you quickly turn the tables so you're on top. "I love you, Eddie." You say as you straddle him on the pile of naked women that surrounds you. You press your lips to his neck, pecking and nipping his tender flesh.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Can I show you something?" Eddie says through a groan at you finding his sweet spot. He reaches over to the bedside table, sliding open the little drawer to find something inside. You watch him closely as he pulls out a red envelope. The same envelope that you gave him at your anniversary picnic. He brings the little slip of paper to his chest, his other hand leaving your hip to take the Polaroids out. "These are what I look at when I'm away from you, darling. You're too fucking sexy in these pictures for me to even consider looking at those blonde bimbos." He speaks honestly, splaying the photos out in his hand like a deck of cards.

"You're amazing, you know that?" You say, leaning down to kiss Eddie deeply. Your lips leave his a moment later, smiling wide as your noses brush against one another.

"Not as much as you are, baby." He replies, giving you a kiss of his own. He puts the photos on the table, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. "Oh, by the way, you've got a job starting next week. We'll have the same schedule and everything. I'll be training you." He smirks, thinking about how great it's going to be with you working alongside him.

"Really? Oh my god, I can't wait!" You squeal, rolling you both over so he's on top of you now. The scattered models stick to your sweat-laced legs, and some are glued to Eddie's back as you change positions. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" You exclaim as you place hasty kisses all over Eddie's face.

"Don't thank me just yet, darling. Mr. Biggs is quite the asshole. It won't all be fun and games." He warns, letting his hands wander under the hem of the shirt he gave you. His large palms creep up your flesh, resting on your tits beneath the thin material. His thumbs pass over your nipples, making you gasp. "There can be a little fun, though. There's a pretty secluded supply closet, if the mood strikes." He wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling darkly at the idea of fucking you at work.

"Have you been thinking about that since I asked you to get me the job?" You ask, giving him an accusatory look.

"Maybe." He bites his lip, unable to contain himself.

"Naughty boy." You smack his chest playfully, giggling at his perpetually dirty mind.

"So...what did you have to tell me?" Eddie asks, and the mood in the room immediately shifts. He notices the change in your eyes, morphing from lust into anxiety. "What's got you so nervous, princess?" He continues questioning you, sitting both of you upright. You pluck the pages of porn from your skin, tossing them away to join the others on the floor.

Your breath catches when you try to speak. You can feel your body wanting to fold like a paper bag. Your heartbeat picks up speed, and your stomach turns. "So, you know how your dad is dying?" You begin, taking on this delicate issue one step at a time. You don't want to set Eddie off, and you know this could easily go very badly. Eddie nods, his face hardening slightly at the mention of his father. "Okay, um...he wants you to visit him. At the prison...before he dies." You manage to get the words out, despite your lungs feeling like they're being squeezed.

"Did Wayne put you up to this?" He asks simply, and all you can do is nod in confirmation. He inhales sharply, his eyes rapidly turning to anger. "Goddammit." He says through clenched teeth, moving to get up.

"Eddie, please. Don't make this a fight." You say desperately, taking hold of his wrists to keep him with you. His gaze snaps to you, frustration reading loud and clear.

"Let. Me. Go." He demands, trying his best to not explode on you. This wasn't your idea, and it certainly isn't you that he should be angry with. You shake your head, fighting back another spell of tears as you refuse. "Y/N, I mean it. Let me go. Now." He repeats himself, needing you to understand that you should listen to him for your own safety. He doesn't want to snatch his hands away or act in any way violent towards you, but he can't stop the burning rage growing inside himself. You let out a single fearful sob, and allow his arms to fall through your slippery grasp. He stands up, stomping off to the livingroom to tear Wayne a new one.

You don't know what you should do. Stay put, or follow him. You go with your gut instinct, leaping out of bed to go after him. "Eddie!" You call out, and his eyes meet yours for a moment in the hall before he reaches the main room where Wayne's still sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Wayne?" Eddie shouts, startling his uncle out of his zoning out to the TV. Wayne looks at him, noting his heaving chest and beet-red face.

"I'm guessin' Y/N told you what Wilfred was askin' for." Wayne says with a sigh, his eyes meeting yours for a moment.

"You're damn right! Why would you ask her to do such a thing? Didn't have the balls to do it yourself?" Eddie continues to yell, going into his signature shrill tone.

"Edward, please. I just thought if it came from her, it wouldn't make you react like this. Clearly, I was wrong. But it's his dyin' wish, and he's your father…and my brother" Wayne pleads his case, but Eddie will hear none of it.

"I don't give a shit! You shouldn't be asking my girlfriend for favors! And don't you dare talk about him like he's a person, like he didn't try to KILL ME ten years ago! Or did you forget?" Eddie shoots back, only getting louder as the words spew from his lips. You just watch helplessly, a wordless observer in this awful bout of verbal blows.

"Of course I didn't forget, goddammit! You had nightmares for months after that! But he's in a fuckin' hospital bed, rottin' away to nothin'. He can't hurt you anymore, Ed." Wayne's voice raises at first, before falling in defeat when he realizes how wrong it is to ask so much of his nephew.

"That doesn't change all the ways he's already hurt me, Wayne. You should know that." Eddie seethes, going far beyond his threshold for anger into dangerously composed fury.

"Eddie, please just think about this. If you face him, you won't have to be afraid of him. You won't have to worry about becoming him. You can let it all go." You offer cautiously. You step closer to him, reaching out an apprehensive hand to try to take hold of his. But he just backs away, looking at you in disgust.

"Not you too, Y/N. I'm not doing that. I'm not just gonna 'let it go' and forgive him after everything he's done. I would've expected you of all people to understand that." His words sink into your veins like viper's fangs, leeching a stinging venom into your bloodstream.

"You don't have to forgive him, Ed. I ain't goin' to either. Not for what he did to you...or to Margaret." Wayne almost mumbles the name you assume belongs to Eddie's mother. Judging by the way he winces in response, you're proven right in your conclusion. "And we're not gonna drag you down there against your will. But he wants to say good-bye, to apologize. Just think it over. please?" Wayne pleads, hoping to get through to him.

You take another step closer, moving to cup Eddie's cheek with your hand. He flinches at the contact at first, before meeting your sympathetic eyes. He softens, allowing your free hand to clasp with his own. "And of course I understand, love. I know this is a big thing to ask of you. It’ll probably be the hardest thing you've ever had to do. But like Wayne said, nobody is forcing you to do anything. If you don't want to go, we won't go. Okay?" You hold Eddie's gaze as you speak, trying to lull the rage into submission. You need him to know you're not ganging up on him, that you and Wayne will respect whatever his decision might be.

Eddie sighs, nodding his head as he allows himself to calm down. "Okay, I'll think about it. I'm not promising anything." He says softly, pulling you into him to hold you tight. He looks over at his uncle as his chin rests on your shoulder. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that, Wayne. I know this isn't easy for you, either."

"It's alright, kid. Can't say I'd be a lick better if I was in your shoes." Wayne replies, wiping his watering eyes. He really hates all this family dysfunction bullshit, and he can't wait for it to be over.

Eddie eases his grip on you, turning to stand sideways with his arm around your waist. He sniffs harshly, blinking away a couple runaway tears before taking a deep breath. "In other news, Y/N's gonna start working with me at the theater next week." He says with a fixed smile.

"That's great! I'm very happy for both of ya." Wayne grins, glad to change the subject to something much less likely to end in a domestic disturbance call. The tension in the room dissipates, only the lingering whispers of dread remaining. These next couple of months won't be as smooth-sailing as you'd originally anticipated. But you plan to make the most of it, moreso for Eddie's sake than your own.

Monday, May 1st, 1989

Exactly one week after this explosive interaction, you're scheduled to start your employment at The Hawk. "Hey, Eds." You chirp, sliding into your seat when Eddie picks you up on Monday morning.

"Hey, baby. You excited for your first day?" Eddie asks, quite visibly ecstatic himself.

"Hell yeah!" You squeal, clicking your seatbelt as he pulls away from your house.

"Glad to hear it, sweetheart. I think you'll enjoy it. Everyone is pretty cool, and we get the work done. Oh, and Mr. Biggs lets us see three free movies every month. Snacks included." You listen intently as Eddie explains the perks of the job, which only makes you more eager to start with every passing second.

He pulls into the lot across the street from The Hawk, and you're practically buzzing with happy nerves. You walk in together, and he shows you where the restroom is after stopping at his locker to retrieve your uniform. You change into it as quickly as you can, strutting back out like you're on the catwalk. You do a cute twirl, and pose for him. "How do I look?"

"Fuck, sweetheart. You've managed to make an ugly uniform look sexy as hell." Eddie whistles as he looks you up and down. He drinks in your form, still able to make out all your curves in the stuffy clothes. The girls uniform is practically identical to the guys, except the pants are a bit more form-fitting. It's safe to say he's very thankful for that.

"I could wear a potato sack and you'd call it sexy." You giggle, blushing hard at his intense eyes giving you a once-over.

"Damn straight, babydoll. C'mon, lemme show you around. I'll introduce you to everybody." He takes hold of your hand, heading towards the doors to go outside first. He brings you over to the ticket booth, where you find a young woman inside. "Hey, Dotty. This is my girlfriend Y/N, it's her first day today." Eddie introduces you.

Dotty opens the door to the little booth, extending her hand to shake yours. She's in her mid-20s, with bouncy blonde hair, and just the right amount of makeup on her flawless skin. She's very pretty, reminding you of a certain hundred or so models you found beneath Eddie's bed last week. "Nice to meet you, Y/N! Eddie's told everyone all about you, and we're very excited to have you join our little family." She says with a large smile, her bubbly personality shining through within seconds. She's chewing a large wad of pink bubblegum very loudly between her words, which you find kind of grating if you're being honest.

"Nice to meet you too, Dotty. I'm excited to be joining the team." You reply awkwardly, shaking her hand. You're oddly threatened by her. She's closer to Eddie's age then you are, and much more confident in her own skin. Your mind can't help playing with the idea that maybe he's held her attention at one point or another.

"Okay, well, I'll leave you two to it for a while. Biggs needs me to fix a couple loose seats in the auditorium. I'll be back in a bit to show you concessions, okay?" Eddie excuses himself, leaving you alone with your presumed competition.

"Alright, let’s get started. I'll show you how to ring up tickets, refill the paper, take payment, and give change. Sound good?" Dotty says enthusiastically, gesturing at each component of her list with her elongated nails which are painted cherry red.

"Okay, lead me through it." You answer, trying to hide your jealousy. You have to focus on learning the ropes, you imagine you don't have much in the way of a grace period. For the next thirty minutes or so, Dotty shows you every step of the ticket-selling process. You watch and listen closely, and she's kind enough to go at a comfortable pace.

"So, that's basically it. Any questions?" She asks, still beaming at you with that sunshiney grin.

"No, I think I've got it. Thank you for showing me this, I really appreciate it." You reply, subtly rolling your eyes at her cheery disposition.

"No trouble at all, Y/N. You've been with Eddie for almost two months now, right?" She asks, keeping up light conversation to avoid awkward silence.

"Oh, yeah. It's been really great, Eddie is amazing." You can't resist gushing to her about your relationship, partially as a means to mark your territory. But on the other hand, you'd never turn down an opportunity to brag about your love. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind at all. I'm actually engaged!" She squeals, jutting her left hand forward to show you a massive diamond ring that sits on her finger. You let out a sigh of relief, chiding yourself for not noticing it earlier.

"Oh, wow! Congratulations!" You reply as all previous judgment towards this woman melts away. You feel bad for having it at all. She's done nothing to you, and Eddie's given you no reason not to trust him.

"All good out here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, startling you as he appears right behind you.

"Yeah, I think I've got it down pretty well." You reply, letting him wrap his arms around you for a moment.

"Aw, you guys are so cute! Don't let Biggs see you get too lovey-dovey, though. He hates PDA." Dotty warns, earning understanding nods from you and Eddie.

"Will do, Dotty. We'll see you later." Eddie says, backing away to let you out of the booth. You follow him inside, and he takes you behind the concession counter. You see a familiar face working at this station. Your old lab partner, Jamie. He's the same age as you, with short, sandy-blonde hair parted down the middle. He's got bright blue eyes, and lots of freckles. You didn't expect to see him here, but it's a welcome surprise.

"Hey, Y/N! I heard you'd be working here!" Jamie greets you, and Eddie quirks an eyebrow, wondering how you know this guy.

"Jamie was my lab partner in Bio." You explain, noticing a twinge of Eddie's own possessiveness flashing across his face. His hand squeezes yours a bit harder as he watches Jamie eye you up and down in your uniform.

"So, have you ever worked a popcorn machine before?" Jamie asks after clearing his throat, pulling his pupils away when he notices Eddie giving him a slight glare. He's always thought you were pretty, but you're clearly spoken for.

"Nope. I can't imagine it's as complicated as Professor Kepler's lab assignments, though!" You quip, sharing a laugh with Jamie. Eddie's expression falls at the inside joke, feeling a bit left out.

"I'm sure you'll get it just fine, Y/N. You were only the smartest person in the entire class." Jamie replies, which makes you snort.

"Oh, please." You wave him away, unable to stop a rosy tinge from coloring your cheeks.

"Okay, that's probably enough chit-chat. We've got a long day of training ahead of us, so let's cut to the chase." Eddie chimes in, narrowing his eyes in the other man's direction. 

You can tell he's getting jealous, using your free hand to stroke his arm. "Relax, baby. I've only got eyes for you." You whisper in his ear, placing a light kiss on his cheek. He meets your gaze, finding no hint of dishonesty there. He nods, forcing himself to calm down. He'll save this envious energy for later, when he gets to have you in ways no other man can.

"Alright, let's get started." Jamie replies shakily. Under Eddie's watchful eye, he shows you how to operate and clean the popcorn machine, fill up sodas, stock candy, and ring up customers. You pick up on each task rather quickly, to nobody's surprise. Eddie's mood changes from grouchy to proud as he witnesses you absorbing all this information like a sponge. You're absolutely whip smart, and he's smiling like an idiot as you easily step into the flow of the operation.

"You're a fast learner, princess. Although, I guess I shouldn't be surprised." Eddie coos in your ear as he leans into you at the soda machine. He slyly pinches your ass, almost making you yelp. You hold back the sound so no one notices what he's up to.

"Looks like you've got it down pat, Y/N. I'm guessing Eddie has lots more to show you." Jamie says, giving you an apprehensive smile.

"That I do. Come along, baby. I'll show you the projection booth." Eddie smirks, pulling you away from the scent of imitation butter and sticky sweet soda pop.

"See you 'round, Jamie. Thanks for the help!" You call to him, stumbling to keep up with Eddie's quickened pace. "Slow down, Eds. You're gonna make me fall over." You giggle as he opens a large, heavy door that leads to a steep staircase.

"Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself." Eddie replies, reducing his speed for your benefit. You travel up the steps in tandem, finding another door at the very top. He opens it, and you're overcome with the cloying stench of weed. "You up here, Milo?" He asks, calling to someone in the dim light of the booth.

"You know it, man. Where else would a dude like me be?" You hear a gravelly voice from the other side of the room. "Hey...who's this stone fox?" The man says, and he flicks on a lamp to see you better. It's here that you can finally make him out. He's definitely an older man, probably in his forties. Long, dark, greasy hair stretches like microwaved taffy to his shoulders, and he's wearing bootcut jeans and a Doobie Brothers t-shirt instead of a uniform. A thick caterpillar of a mustache sits above his upper lip, and his brown eyes are completely bloodshot.

"Milo, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Milo. Our Reel Master Extraordinaire. He also just happens to be one of my best customers." Eddie says.

"Far out! You must be pretty cool if you're Munson's chick." Milo speaks slowly, and like he's stuck in the 1970s. A stoner through and through, since the days of The Grateful Dead's prime, you suspect.

"She certainly is." Eddie replies, giving you an affectionate look.

"How long have you worked here, Milo?" You ask, curious to know more about him. He's nice enough, if not a little delayed in the head. You find his outdated lingo amusing, and Eddie seems to have bonded with him in one way or another.

"Oh, a couple decades at least, I'd say. Why? You after my job, groovy lady?" Milo grins. He sure lays it on thick, but you can tell he's just being complimentary.

"Not at all, I was just curious. I've always wondered what it's like in a place like this. The film reels, the projector, how it all works. Who sits up here to make sure the films play correctly. It's all very mysterious, from an outside perspective." You can't help making this spot in particular sound a little romantic. But is it not natural of humanity to yearn for understanding things typically kept hidden away, save for a few lucky pairs of eyes? Even as a child, you'd turn to peek behind you during the previews, dying to know what was going on behind that tiny glass window.

"You make it sound a lot more magical than it is, pretty mama." Milo shoots you a wink, making you blush. "She's got a real nifty way of speaking, Eddie. Best hang on to this one." His eyes shift to Eddie's, friendly as ever.

"I have every intention of doing so, dude. I'll never get this lucky again." Eddie chuckles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. "Anyway, I know you're a busy man, Milo. We'll get outta your hair."

"Later days, my man. You too, sunshine girl." Milo replies as you head for the door to the steps once more.

"Well, he's quite the character." You say once you've gone out the second door to the lobby.

"Yeah, Milo is a bit...spacey. But he's been here forever, and he's nice enough."

"He sure likes to drop cheesy names at the ladies, too." You laugh, replaying the words in your mind. You've never been called a 'stone fox' before, and you'd bet a million dollars you'll ever hear it again in your lifetime.

"Yeah, that's just how he talks. He doesn't mean anything by it, hence why I'm not acting like a jealous maniac at the moment." He chuckles in reply, taking you towards the double doors to the auditorium. The Hawk, much like Milo, is very old school. There's only one screen in the place, with rows and rows of seats. A scant stage area sits just below the screen as well, along with a covered orchestra pit for special events. "The previous screening just let out, so I'm gonna show you how we clean up between showings." Eddie explains, shifting into work mode. It's an odd look on him, you've never seen him act like a true professional in any capacity prior to today.

"Sounds sexy." You joke, and Eddie retrieves a broom and handled dustpan for each of you.

"Far from it, sweetheart. Sorry to disappoint." He retorts, falling into his playful ways once more. He hands you your supplies, before demonstrating how to use them. He locates a pile of crushed popcorn, swiftly sweeping every last piece into the dustpan. "Now, you wanna make sure you don't miss anything. Mr. Biggs runs a tight ship. He always says 'A single crumb left behind, and I'll have your head!'." He quotes the boss-man in what you can only assume is a spot-on impression, as you have yet to meet the mysterious proprietor of this establishment.

"Jeez, you weren't kidding about him being a douchebag." You snort, finding a clump of puffed corn to sweep yourself. You manage to get all of it in a couple swipes, the bristles of the worn broom brushing harshly against the antique carpet.

"God, how are you so good at everything?" Eddie asks in amazement at you picking up yet another skill like it's nothing. It took him many tries and a couple of lectures from the main man himself to get the technique down. And you got it on your first fucking try.

"I dunno. Genetics?" You quip, biting your lip mischievously.

"Cute." Eddie replies sarcastically, and the two of you make quick work of making the theater absolutely spotless. Once the floor is in good shape, Eddie shows you how to clean out the sticky cup holders, and where the 'lost and found' is kept. "Loose cash is fair game, so long as Mr. Biggs doesn't catch you. Never take it from a found wallet or purse, though. I learned that the hard way." Eddie admits, bashfully recalling how he got caught taking money from none other than Chief Powell's wallet after a screening of Rain Man last year.

"Jesus, Eds. You really are quite the criminal." You laugh, shaking your head.

"Yeah, yeah. I realize how bone-headed that was now. I got shoved off the schedule for a week, Biggs almost fired my ass. It was very embarrassing." His eyes shift to the floor, his words coming out in that adorable grumble he does when he's feeling shy. He may be the type to skirt the law a good portion of the time, but it's a whole other story when he gets caught. He always feels so awful, regardless of how bad the actual offense is. It brings back memories of the time he got busted shoplifting at the corner store. The manager held him in the back, calling the police who then called Wayne. He'd only been living with him a few months, and he was sure Wayne would kick him to the curb for being a thief. That obviously didn't happen, but Wayne sure as shit gave him a good talking to.

"We all make mistakes, love. Don't sweat it so much." You attempt to soothe him, putting your cleaning supplies aside to pull him into a warm embrace.

He melts against you, taking every last bit of affection you're sending his way. "I know, doesn't mean I don't have any regrets." He says simply, working his way out of the uncomfortable pit he's dug for himself.

"Everyone does, baby. It's called being human." You lean your head back, meeting his eyes. They're glistening every so slightly in the dingy lights of the auditorium. "You can always talk to me about them, ya know. Maybe not now, but sometime." You give him a subdued kiss, which he immediately attempts to deepen. It takes everything in you to resist, his pillowy lips are so tempting to get lost in. "Mm一 Down, boy." You giggle as you pull away.

"Sorry, I can't help it. You're just so damn irresistible." Eddie smolders, lowering his hands to squeeze your ass. "Wish we had time for me to show you that closet, sweetheart."

"We can play later, Eds. C'mon, I'm sure there's more work to do." You reach behind you, gently removing his firm palms from your butt.

"Ugh, fiiiiiine." He whines, taking you to the fifth and final stop of your training tour. The employee break room, which happens to house the office of the notorious Mr. Biggs. "I figured we could share a locker, since we have the same schedule. I don’t think there’s any to spare." Eddie explains, flicking the padlock on his metal cubby.

"That's okay, I don't mind sharing." You answer, looking around the small space. There's a round table with a couple chairs in the center of the room, and a coat rack in the corner beside the cluster of lockers. On the other side of the room is another table with a microwave and a small coffee maker on top of it. There's disposable cups, stir sticks, sugar packets, and creamer beside the half-full coffee pot.

You notice the door to the office is open, and there's an older man and woman inside. They appear to be looking at expense reports spread messily around the desk, debating on whether or not to switch to the cheaper brand of popcorn butter to cut costs. The woman is easily in her fifties, with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She's sipping from a foam coffee cup, tapping a pencil on various places on the papers to argue her case as to why the current brand of butter is of higher quality, therefore worth the cost. Henry Biggs, on the other hand, is another story. He's very tall, almost a giant. His limbs are thin and lanky, and his head is completely bald, shiny like a cue ball. A pair of small, circular glasses sit loosely on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall off with one ill-timed shake of his head. He notices you watching this interaction unfold, however, leaving the office to greet you. 

"Hello there, miss. You must be Y/N. I'm Henry Biggs. Eddie has told me a lot about you." He says in the bellowing voice your boyfriend did indeed imitate perfectly. He extends his hand, and you shake it.

"Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for the job, I really appreciate the opportunity." You respond nervously.

"And you're very welcome to have the honor, Ms. Henderson. I expect nothing less than the best, I only hope you're up to the task." He replies flatly. You're very intimidated by him, he's quite severe, and will clearly put up with no nonsense.

You force the brightest smile you can muster, before speaking again. "I can assure you, sir, I have every intention of exceeding your expectations."

He seems rather unimpressed, scoffing slightly at your assurance. He's seen many a youngblood come and go from this place, and he has little hope that you'll prove yourself valuable. "Talk is cheap, Y/N. I only believe results." He returns to his desk without another word, and the older woman comes out to say hello.

"Hello, Ms. Henderson. I'm Harriet, welcome to the team. I handle payroll, employee relations, and I'm the assistant manager of The Hawk. I have some paperwork for you to fill out, Eddie can help you if there's anything you're unsure about. Just bring them back to me when you're finished, and the my door is always open if you need anything." Harriet speaks rapidly, rattling off the laundry list of information like a rehearsed soliloquy. She's out of breath by the end of it, handing you a small stack of papers and a pen. She shuffles back into the office, shutting the door behind her in the process.

"O-Okay." You say quietly, taken aback by how rushed that interaction was.

"I warned you, princess. Let's get this stuff filled out, okay?" He gestures at the table, and you take a seat beside each other.

"I guess I'm gonna have a hard time proving myself to the big boss, huh?" You say as you glance over the sheet at the top of the stack. It's certainly disheartening to hear your employer doubting your abilities before you finish your first day of work. You've never had anyone put you down so quickly and easily in regards to your performance before. Mr. Biggs has observed you for all of thirty seconds and already made up his mind. That you're just another ne'er-do-well looking for easy pocket money. You can feel your stubbornness kicking in, an incessant need to make him eat his words slathered atop a slice of humble pie.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. As long as you're not incompetent, he doesn't really care. Don't expect any praise to come out of his mouth, though. I don't think he's capable of giving a compliment, not even to his wife." Eddie replies.

"I'll try not to take it personally. My work will speak for itself." You speak flatly, to the point. Eddie assists you in filling out the W-4, emergency contact sheet, employee contract, and preferred availability chart. You return the papers to Harriet, and work with Jamie in concessions until it's time to go home. Eddie bounces around in the meantime, changing burnt out light bulbs and evicting spiders from their webs and onto the downtown streets.

You catch glimpses of him when you can, giving him a smile whenever your eyes meet. You can't help missing him even when he's in the same area as you, it's like you're on two separate planets. You just hope there's other days to come where you'll work side-by-side. Part of the reason you asked for this job was to spend even more time with Eddie. You feel so clingy for thinking this way, but this day has been a lot to say the least. You suppose you just need time to adjust, it's your first real job that doesn't pay under the table.

Despite your discomfort, you have every intention of being a model employee. Your plan is to work hard, and squirrel away as much money as you can. You're going to need it in a few months, once Mom's promised funds run out for the rent on your future apartment. "Hey, space-girl. It's time to go home." Eddie says, waving his hand in your face. You've been in your own head again, leaning against the candy counter once the current showing finished purchasing snacks.

"Oh, sorry." You chuckle, following Eddie's lead. He retrieves your bag from his locker, and you head outside to the van.

"You okay, love? You're pretty quiet now." He sounds concerned, worried today was too much for you. He's sure you've taken Biggs' bristling words to heart. He wishes his boss would've been a little kinder to you.

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine. Just a long first day." You speak in short sentences, not really paying attention.

"Sweetheart, you know you can always tell me when something’s bothering you. So, out with it." He stops you from opening the passenger door, forcing you to lean against it. He stands across from you, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"You're gonna think I'm being silly, Eds." You start, looking at his face to watch his expression.

"Maybe. I won't know until you tell me." He insists, raising an eyebrow as he waits for an explanation.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "It was just...hard. To see you moving around for hours and not be able to talk to you, or kiss you. Like, you were technically in the same room, but you were also millions of miles away." He doesn't say anything, so you try to brush it off. "Nevermind, I shouldn't have said anything. I know it's dumb, I'll get over it." You turn to open the door, but he stops you again.

"It's alright, angel. And it's not stupid. It wasn't easy for me either." He says softly, rotating your body so you face him once more. His hands sit at your waist, and he gives you a loving look. "It's an adjustment. We're used to being attached at the hip all the time. But we can be together on our break, and when we're working in the same spot. Not to mention all the time we have outside of work."

You nod your head, tossing away the stress of the day. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting a seductive grin take over your lips. "I know, darling. Speak of...you wanna go park somewhere and have some time outside of work?" You raise your knee to rub against his crotch, making him groan.

"Don't mind if I do, stone fox." He chuckles darkly as he imitates Milo's words, giving you a hungry kiss before running to the driver's side. You burst out laughing as you slip into your seat, unable to believe he'd call you such a thing. Eddie looks at you oddly. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, I just lost a bet." You reply through a giggle, clicking your seatbelt.

"Damn, I hope I won't have to settle your gambling debts." Eddie laughs. He's utterly confused about what you mean, but he doesn't care one bit. Not when you're so much happier than you were a few minutes ago.

To be continued...

[lillified]

can i ask what the general lore for your au is? love me some good lore

I think I’ve done a pitch outline before that’s covered some of this, but I can give you the basic background for reference! (Tumblr page search seems a bit broken the further back you get anyway)

Cybertron is an alien planet with a long history of strife. Following the reign of the Quintessons, a hostile and colonial alien species, and their eventual ousting, the remnants of a military-industrial state and its tyrannical caste system left only a matter of time before massive conflict erupted.

Cybertron: The original home planet of the Cybertronians, and the current territory of the Autobots. Cybertron is a very ancient planet formed around the remnants of an enormous organic “ancestor,” whose blood and other material is extracted for use as food. This organic material is vital to the survival of all Cybertronians, and the most important component, Energon, is extremely highly coveted. It can be found sparingly in other parts of the universe (notably other early established Cybertronian space colonies), but without access to the original ancestor, or its sparsely documented relatives and protégé, it is unrenewable, which would inevitably mark the end of the Cybertronian race. Extensive industrialization on a global scale made Energon sparse, and an exhaustive global war only exacerbated this scarcity.

The Decepticons: Made up primarily of the former lower castes of Cybertron, the Decepticons are a mish-mash group of revolutionary mercenaries, banded together to end the tyrannical rule of Cybertron. Although they were originally known as the Ascenticons, they gained the derogatory name after their defacto “leader,” Megatron, permanently maimed her rival for the primacy, Optimus, during a political demonstration that turned violent. Optimus was famously left without a lower jaw, and the brutal scuffle was used to galvanize moderates against the perceived extremity of the group.

Now, having been largely driven off of Cybertron after a battle which devastated both sides., the fractured branches of the Decepticons struggle to find places they can recoup and regather amid the cosmos. Their primary squad, team Alpha, is currently drifting in space, eagerly anticipating the day it can find the resources to reestablish communication with what remains of the Decepticon army.

The Autobots: A faction formed out of the former military of Cybertron and its allies. Figureheaded by the stoic and personable Optimus Prime, the Autobots barely hold onto control of Cybertron, and seek to persist against the Decepticons’ demands for radical reconstruction. Now made up of many of Cybertronian’s youth, plenty of Autobot soldiers aren’t fully aware of what they’re fighting for, and barely retain memories of life before the war. If the current course of the war continues, they hope to drive the Decepticons out of anywhere they’ve hidden until they surrender and concede.

The Present: With impassible stakes for everyone involved, if they want any hope of surviving and reclaiming Cybertron, the Decepticons must do the impossible: overcome their many differences and work as a team. Our story starts in the far reaches of space, where Decepticon Team Alpha is searching for resources and a temporary residence where they can begin to reestablish communication with their allies.

The members of Team Alpha include:

Megatron: the melancholic leader, whose reputation does not match her lethargic withdrawal.

Starscream: the second in command with a penchant for mutiny. Her disloyalty is kept a secret, for both Megatron’s sake and Starscream’s.

Soundwave: the enigmatic and cynically self-important communications officer and third in command. Their speciality is espionage and information control, though they haven’t seen much of it recently.

Lockdown: former bounty hunter turned medic. this mean-looking ‘Con might not be certified, but in a pinch, he’ll patch you up—by any means necessary.

Knockout: the only thing worse than a mad doctor is his lackadaisical and negligent assistant. Knockout doesn’t really believe the Decepticons will win, but his hate for the Autobots is stronger than his realism.

Breakdown: a bruiser-in-training rescued from a docked Decepticon warship. He and Blitzwing were the only trainees who survived being stasis fried. Albeit a strong and capable fighter, this ‘Con doesn’t really have the “Deception grit” yet.

Blitzwing: Breakdown’s fellow soldier. Though she was also trained to be a mercenary, Blitzwing lacks a lot of the natural talent for fighting Breakdown has. Her unrecognized skill lies in weaponsmithing, though Starscream hopes to make a competent combatant out of her yet.

Ravage: don’t be fooled—this weapon class Minicon only looks like a Cybercat. The eldest of Decepticon team alpha, this odd bot gave up his Cybertronian appearance to live out the laid back life of a lazy mechanimal. His powerful spark makes him Megatron’s weapon of choice.

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Chapter 1]

Summary: You've made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn't even at the top of the list. Now you're about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian--and they're not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #1: Shut up. The enemy might hear you.

By the time you woke up, the rest of them had left—quite a while ago, you’d hazard a guess. It had definitely been nighttime when you’d passed out on that pile of dirty rags. Load of shitty freeloaders. It didn’t take a genius to realize they’d taken all the food with them, too. In the hazy light filtering through the trees outside your dilapidated hideout, you could see far enough to know that much.

You were far too woozy to try moving, but your brain didn’t catch onto that. Your teeth ground into each other as you reached desperately around the immediate area in an attempt to find a pistol. If those fuckers had taken your weapons as well, you were going to track them down and get your things back the hard way. You’d given practically everything you had to get that meat back there.

Everything, it occurred to you, including the arm you were using to try and find your gun. Shit. You struggled into a seated position, panting as you lifted the remaining stump to get a good look at things. Blood seeped crimson through the bandages that made up most of your desperately-made tourniquet. Of course, those shitheads couldn’t be bothered to do it up better for you before you ran out. At least that explained your extreme lightheadedness.

Something next to your makeshift bed gleamed, catching your eye. You scooped it up with your still-existing hand. Thank god. It was a pistol. At least they had left you that much, and maybe a little more. A torn fragment of paper lay beneath it. The reward for your efforts was nothing but a hastily scribbled note about not sticking around until you got infected. As though you hadn’t cut off your own fucking arm as soon as that bastard runner got you!

But then you supposed you would have done the same thing. Hell, you would have shot the moron that thought amputation was the answer. So in addition to being a bunch of jackasses, your old group was also apparently made up entirely of morons, leaving you and letting you live. You tossed the paper lethargically into the corner. Well, you’d been right. If you were going to become infected, you already would have got there.

Now remained the problem of how the fuck you were supposed to survive with a single arm, and your nondominant hand at that.

“Hey, Joel! I’m gonna check over here, all right? There’re tracks leading away. Maybe some hunters left us something good.”

A whoosh of nausea filled your stomach. Before you could do so much as throw the rags over you in a sorry attempt at hiding, the door to your tiny shack in the middle of buttfuck nowhere drifted gently open. With you in the state you were in, you could hardly get up and strangle the intruder. There was nothing to do but freeze and hope she left.

But the door creaked open farther still, and into your hovel stepped a girl you thought must have been in her early teens. Her green eyes wandered over the remains of whatever people had lived there twenty-something years ago, but clearly saw nothing interesting until they landed on you.

You wasted no time in lifting your pistol, fat load of good it would do you. Your arm trembled simply at lifting the weapon; there was no question that you wouldn’t have the strength to actually fire—and that was if you even had any bullets remaining from the firefight the night before.

“Shit,” the girl yelped, leaping back toward the door. You winced at your continued effort; you could feel more blood rushing to the sight of your missing limb. This must have made you look more pathetic than threatening, because the girl crept forward and eyed you with something akin to wonder. “Hey, are you okay?”

You just snorted in response, but that didn’t seem to make you a more formidable opponent. The girl bent down next to you to get a closer look, as though you were some interesting sideshow she hadn’t seen advertised.

“Oh, man, you’re really bleeding,” she said.

“Get—” Your words got caught in your throat. You screwed up your eyes before trying again: “Get. Out.”

“I—”

“Get out or I’ll shoot you, you little bitch.”

Her eyes narrowed in response. Meanwhile, your eyes caught the pistol gripped loosely in one of her hands. Shit. If it came to actually shooting, she’d slaughter you, and then what would you have cut your damn arm off for? Getting killed by a kid seemed laughable compared to being torn up by infected.

“I doubt you can aim properly in your condition,” she said calmly.

“Try me,” you spat.

“Hey, why don’t you try showing a little respect?”

“Respect me, you—”

The sharp click of rifle interrupted your pissing contest with the twerp. She looked up at once, but you took several seconds longer to get your gaze up to the face of the newcomer.

“Do you want to try dropping that gun, or do you want me to make it so you don’t need it anymore?” he asked.

Even if you weren’t near-dead, you would have been intimidated by the girl’s bodyguard. He was enormous, grizzled, and wearing an expression that quite clearly told you the “near” part of that might not last much longer. You doubted that dropping your pistol would net you your life, but just then your hand gave such a tremendous shudder that the weapon slipped from your fingers and fell to the ground anyway. Sure enough, the gun pointed at your head didn’t budge an inch.

“Joel,” said the girl.

“What, kid?” he said angrily without taking his eyes off you. In response, she got to her feet and lifted her hands in some strange attempt to pacify him. He looked at her only for a moment before rolling his eyes and returning to your stare down.

“Joel,” the girl said again. “She’s hurt.”

“And what does that matter?”

“She obviously wasn’t going to shoot me!” Suddenly, the calming note in the girl’s voice was gone. Her tone flared up like a rocket, though that didn’t seem to have much of an effect on Joel. “So put the gun down!”

“Ellie—”

“Just do it!”

At last, he stopped watching you to take up glaring at Ellie in your stead. She scowled up at him for half a minute, but didn’t wait for him to do as she said. With a sound of great annoyance, she tore her gaze away and threw herself down at your side. After a moment of casting about for something, she looked down at her shirt, pulled a pocket knife from one of her pockets, and proceeded to slice a long strip of fabric from her clothes.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Joel asked impatiently.

She scowled up at him as she proceeded to wrap the fabric tightly around your stump. "Helping.”

Joel groaned and jammed his rifle back into the pack on his back. “And what good is that supposed to do her?”

It was exceedingly frustrating being spoken about as though you weren’t there, but the energy you had expended on snapping at Ellie was all that you had left. You slumped back against the wood wall of the shack and stared blearily between the two of them. Why they weren’t gunning you down, you had no idea.

“It’ll last longer than the sucky tourniquet she’s got now,” Ellie said.

“So?”

“So it’ll get her back to Jackson!”

“Get her back to—” Joel spluttered. Then he just paused before saying flatly, “You are not taking her home with us.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you insane? You know how she lost an arm? Probably got bit.”

“Looks like she acted quickly to me. Hey.” Ellie nudged you, and then nudged you much harder a second time when you didn’t react. “Hey, you. When did you get bit?”

“Huh?” you asked. You could have sworn you were paying attention, but suddenly the question had slipped your mind.

Ellie’s eyebrows lifted, and she spoke much more slowly to say, "When did you get bit?”

“L-Last night,” you answered, closing your eyes with pain as she finished tying the tourniquet. “Hours ago.”

“See?” Ellie asked lightly as she stood. “She’s fine.”

“Kid, you can’t be the savior to every goddamn straggler we run into.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as Ellie opened her mouth to reply. She must have thought better of what she was going to say, though, because she shrugged and adjusted her pack before trying again, “You owe me. And I owe it to the world.”

“Kid—”

“Not now, Joel.” She spun back toward you. “Do you think you can walk? We can’t really make a stretcher. I guess Joel could carry you.”

“Like hell I’m carrying her. This is your project.”

“Fine,” Ellie snapped. “Then you can lean me. Just so long as you can walk a bit.”

“You’re overestimating your own strength again.”

“If you aren’t going to offer a solution, then shut your trap. Can you walk?” she asked you again.

The old you would have told her to fuck off and take her old man with her. You could handle it on your own. This time, though, you were pretty sure you couldn’t. You didn’t have food; you only had a single magazine in your pistol; and you were significantly down on your ability to protect yourself.

“We’ve got a settlement, a really cool place, totally self-governed. You can come with us.”

“You really think Maria and Tommy are just going to let us waltz in the front gate with some woman that’s probably gonna turn at any minute?” Joel asked.

“She’s not infected. Besides, they’ll let me waltz in the front gate with her. After all, I’m their delightful little niece.”

“You are not their niece,” Joel said.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She must have heard that a lot, because Ellie didn’t appeared bothered by that statement. Ducking slightly, she grasped your shoulders and, ignoring your tensing, heaved you to your feet. It took several minutes. You didn’t have the strength to help her—nor, really, did you have the desire to. Survival instinct was telling you to get away from these two as quick as you could. Unfortunately, your body was not up to those instructions, and Ellie got you standing soon enough. She even had you taking several steps toward the exit.

“You wanna be at least some help and open the door?” Ellie asked Joel.

Although he didn’t look pleased about it, Joel made to open the door. His large fingers had only just wrapped around the knob when a horribly familiar clicking noise issued from somewhere outside. Each person in the room froze, you even more so than you had been. A second later, and that clicking was answered by another, only slightly more distant.

Joel reached for his gun. Whatever Ellie planned to do, you didn’t intend to find out. Summoning up the last vestiges of your strength, you tore yourself free of her hold. Without any energy left to keep yourself upright, you fell back onto the floor.

Your pistol sat several feet away, entirely useless to you. You began to thrash wildly on the floor, desperate to get back to it. An inability to shoot you might have had, but you weren’t going to go down without a fight. Sounds of fear, normally easy to quash, began to claw their way out of your throat as you moved.

Joel’s boot smashed down mere inches from your fingers. Your head snapped upward to see him glowering down at you, his rifle aimed once more at your head.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “They can hear you.”

“I know what clickers are!” you panted.

What the fuck was Joel on, thinking he had to explain infected to you? You’d been surviving just as long as he had! If you weren’t so exhausted by your escape attempt, you would have shown him whatfor. As it was, you could only lay there in a heap, breathing heavily, and watch as he maneuvered toward one of the broken windows. Ellie followed suit, though she paused to smirk at you once she was stationed, and held a finger to her lips.

Of all the shitty people to land yourself with. Your last group might have been stupid, but at least they weren’t sarcastic teenagers.

Joel and Ellie both looked out, never relaxing, even when the time between each click was longer than the last. Sweat broke out across the back of your neck. The three of you were trapped there, in that shitty shack, with no food and you probably bleeding to death. If either of them shot a clicker, it would bring every single infected in the vicinity right to your door—and after the hunt last night, you knew there were quite a few infected in the vicinity.

“As far as I can tell, there’s only two,” Joel whispered, though even that much was risky. “You stay here.”

Ellie nodded. With an impressively silent tread for a man so large and carrying so much weaponry, Joel moved across the room, opened the door, and slipped out into the growing night. A few more clicks sounded, but after that, everything went completely quiet.

“Did you get them?” Ellie whispered a few minutes later.

You started, having not even realized that Joel had returned. In fact, he was right above you, and before you could react, he hefted you into the air and threw your arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he growled. “Let’s get going before more show up. Dragging her along definitely isn’t going to make things easy.”

“I know how to be quiet,” you murmured, too worn-out for much more. Maybe it would have been better if he just dropped you there to be turned. The stress you had from dealing with those two for just an hour or two seemed to be draining you more than the amputation.

“Good.” He did not sound as though he believed you. “Because if you pull another stunt like that, I’m dumping you in a nest of clickers and leaving you there.”

Cool night air hit your face at last. Although you were fading quickly, you were aware enough to hear Ellie’s quick, quiet footsteps as she caught up to you.

“Don’t worry,” she said, with a smile that you suspected was supposed to be reassuring. “Joel treats everyone like that. You’ll grow on him.”

“Fantastic,” you said hoarsely.

Joel jostling you harder than necessary was the last thing you remembered from that night.

[fexerpitch]

"I haven't gone too far. Nothing interesting has been happening lately though." Ventus mumbled, dead weighting on top of Aiden. "The real question is where have you been?"

fexerpitch

Falls on top of. "Hi."

"And just where have you been?" He's not going to fight it, he's just going to poke at Ven instead.