#like all of those negative thoughts in his head suddenly being quieted and him actually feeling kind of... not angry for a second?

[mad-hunts]

i was joking about this with ramone, but honestly... i think there may be some validity to the idea of barton smoking weed only one time in his life and never doing it again because it made him feel so chill, that he freaked out ☠️ like 'is this what 'normal' people feel like? because i don't know how to feel about this, or if i like it' LMAO

[crazyunsexycool]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 1.0k

Summary: Steve feels a bit insecure as he watches a coworker flirt with you at a party.

Warning: bit of insecure Steve, lil bit of angst

A/N: Here is the 4th part The earpiece!

Steve wanted to act as if he wasn’t a jealous person but he was. It stemmed not from you interacting with other people but from his insecurities. In many ways even when you looked at him and saw just Steve, he was the small kid from Brooklyn who couldn’t ask a dame out to save his life. Then you came along and changed his world, even when he thought he messed up with the whole earpiece incident. He loved you. It wasn’t a sweet innocent love either, it was all consuming and burned wildly in his whole being. So seeing as other men were as captivated by you as he was made his blood boil. A hurricane of doubt and negative thoughts started to form in his head. He questioned if he was worth the effort. Steve couldn’t help but wonder what you saw in him. 

It was as if you had heightened senses of your own because suddenly your eyes connect with Steve’s from across the crowded room. You smile at him brightly, your eyes lighting up. Steve couldn’t help but smile back, yet that same pesky feeling bothered him as you turned back to your conversation. 

It was only a few minutes. You’d gone to the bathroom and on the way back your coworker stopped to talk to you. But he got to see you every day so Steve couldn’t understand why he had to talk to you during a party too. It didn’t help that this was the same guy that kept flirting with you at any chance he got.

“It’s not a good look on you, pal.” Bucky says as he stops next to Steve.

“What?” Steve looks at Bucky.

“This whole broody, trying to not look jealous thing you got going on.” 

Steve scoffs and looks back at you, his jaw clenching when the other man places a hand on your arm which you quickly pulled away. He mutters a curse under his breath as jealousy rears its ugly head. Steve watches as the other man gets too close for your comfort. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says before stomping his way over to you. 

You felt him before you saw him. The scent from his cologne was comforting as he came up behind you. Steve’s hard chest pressed against your back and you immediately relaxed. Looking over your shoulder you smiled up at him but Steve’s eyes were on your coworker Paul. Sure he was handsome with his dark brown eyes and matching hair but he wasn’t like Steve. You’d heard rumors around the tower about Paul and his slutty reputation. That was something you weren’t interested in experiencing. Besides, you had Steve, he was the most caring person you’d ever met. Why would you trade down? 

“Captain, how are you doing?” Paul sends an annoyed look Steve’s way.

“I’m doing great Peter, how about you?” 

“It’s Paul actually.” 

“Oh.” Is all Steve replies. “I hope you don’t mind but I came over here to steal my girl.” 

Paul’s smile fades slowly as his eyes bounce between you and Steve. “But we were having such a lovely conversation. Why don’t you join us?”

“Actually Paul I do need to get going. See you on Monday.” 

“Bye, Patrick.” Steve says.

“Come on,” Paul grabs your hand and tries to get you to stay. “We’re having a good time.”

“I’d very much like to spend time with Steve. I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“But-“

“You heard what she said, now let her go.”

Steve takes your hand and leads you out to a quiet area outside so that he can finally spend time with you alone. 

“What was that about?” 

“What?” Steve asks while putting on his most innocent act. 

“That whole snippy attitude back there. And don’t give me those doe eyes, I know what you’re doing.” 

Steve sits down on a lounge chair and pulls you by your hips so that you’re standing between his legs. He looks up at you like you hung the moon and the stars just for him but there’s uncertainty behind it all. You rest your hands on his shoulders and wait for him to say something. 

“I’m sorry. I just hated seeing the way Preston was looking at you and trying to touch you.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that he wouldn’t call him by his actual name.

“Steve, baby, where is this coming from? Did I do or say something to make you feel like this?” 

“No, not at all. It’s just me.” 

“Baby.” You cup his cheeks and make him look up at you. “I only want you. There is no one else in this world that I would want to be with other than you. Not Captain America or Steve Rogers, the leader of the Avengers. I want to be with Steve, the kid from Brooklyn who gets me flowers just cause and who leaves me little notes and doodles around my office just to make me smile. The Steve who would race to my apartment just to get rid of a spider because I’m scared of them. What do I have to do to make you realize that?”

“Nothing. I just need to remember that you see me for who I am.”

“And that I love you no matter what.”

The words wash over him and they calm the storm he’d been creating in his head. “You love me?” Steve said incredulously.

“Of course.” You smile and nod.

Steve stands and pulls you in for a kiss. He leaves you breathless.

“I love you too.” 

You giggle against his lips as you both say those three little words to each other a few more times. Steve pulls away and takes your hand, leading you back in and through the party.

“Where are we going?” You ask with a laugh.

“I’m gonna show you how much I love you.”

When you get to the elevators Steve hits the buttons multiple times. You turn him around and distract him with a kiss. When he pulls back again and looks up he makes eye contact with Paul. With a smirk on his face, Steve palms your ass and kisses you again. 

He really didn’t have a reason to be jealous. You love him and he loved you but the angry face Paul made was still priceless.

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[dralione]

5 times Draco used Legilimency on Hermione +1 time she used it on him

Summary: Hermione has ADHD/AuDHD and Draco finds the way her mind works compared to others so fascinating he can't stay out.

Rating: T (non-graphic torture, a couple suggestive lines) ♡ WC: ~5k ♡ Ao3

A/N: my first published Dramione! (Looks at longfics languishing in drafts) Hope you enjoy! No beta; if you see any plot holes wither in the story or from Canon compliancy no you don't. Also I realise the summary sounds a little weird but I'm simply projecting as I write this Hermione and would like to find my own Draco who will find the way my brain is wired interesting/pos and not interesting/neg.

1. Wednesday, 10 January, 1996 (5th Year)

Draco shifted in his chair, glaring up from his parchment as the loud sound of a page turning interrupted his previously quiet study session. He was mildly surprised to find that the perpetrator was none other than the studious swot herself, Hermione Granger. He’d thought she had more respect for the sanctity of a library and its quietude.

A hint of colour crawled up her cheeks as she caught his stare, but she didn’t look away. 

A thought popped into Draco’s head as he held her gaze. Over the winter hols, his mother had begun teaching him Legilimency. He was still getting the hang of it, but practice made perfect, did it not? His target was already making eye contact with him, and he was suddenly overwhelmingly curious about the witch’s thoughts. Was she as boring as she came across on the outside?

Ooo, maybe he could get a sneak peek into Potter’s plans, if she let him that far into her mind. Well, it was worth a try. Despite being a ridiculously well-read witch, surely she hadn’t learned about Legilimency or Occlumency?

Moving his wand under the table, so she couldn’t see, he whispered “Legilimens,” instantly transporting to his rival’s innermost being. Stubborn swot had practically invited him in, with those gleaming amber eyes holding his and absolutely no mental resistance to his entry at all. 

He smirked to himself and looked around. 

Draco turned slowly in place in Granger’s mind, jaw dropped as he took in the thoughts absolutely sprinting around, too fast for him to possibly pin down and read. 

Merlin’s beard, had the witch actually become an Occlumens?!

This was not what he expected, compared to his mother’s neatly organised thoughts and carefully constructed walls and paths that held her memories. How was he supposed to delve into her mind and find what he wanted if there was no way to find what he was looking for? 

Granger’s mind was a veritable rabbit warren of thoughts and memories, all haphazardly rolling around in her head like stray Bertie Bott’s Beans on the Hogwarts Express. 

He had to give it to her, she had excellent defences that even a more skilled Legilimens than himself would have trouble wading through. 

And the volume, Salazar’s staff…he was getting a headache just from the decibels of those thoughts running amuck. He exited her mind and broke eye contact, silently letting her win the unspoken staring contest, too overwhelmed to look at her any longer. How did the witch manage to get anything done with that organisational system, nevermind be top of their classes? Sure, it was a great defence against Legilimens, but they were few and far between, surely she didn’t need them at Hogwarts (his prying experiment aside). That mental energy would be better spent retaining and organising their class information. 

Draco felt a sliver of grudging respect at Granger’s beyond-magical handling of Occlumency and schoolwork. He shivered in his seat. He wouldn’t be going in her brain again if he could help it.

2. Monday, 15 January, 1996 (5th Year)

Draco glared at the bronze curls ahead of him, willing Granger to quiet her thoughts. Since he’d first jumped into her brain last week, he couldn’t stop listening in, even when he wasn’t trying. 

Sweet Salazar, the witch was loud. Practically screaming her thoughts at anyone listening in. 

He really couldn’t make heads or tails of her behaviour. There was absolutely no reason for her to be broadcasting her thoughts like that – only a few students would even have heard of Legilimency. Surely she wasn’t playing bait, trying to lure him and/or his godfather into admitting something?

Somehow, Granger had become more interesting to him than Potter over the last week. It was only partly due to her annoyingly distracting thoughts that kept following him around. He found himself searching out her curls like a beacon for him to watch her, instead of to locate one of the two limpets usually by her side. He was, admittedly, curious about her organisational standards after his jaunt through her head. 

The more he heard her thoughts, the more he found himself able to make sense of the rapid-fire trails they’d blaze, often diverting from one topic to another quicker than he would have done. 

Looking back once he was out of her mental broadcasting range, he was able to follow her logic steps, but by Merlin, the convoluted ways she arrived at her destination! Draco wasn’t sure if he was impressed by her ability to arrive at the same conclusion by very different throughways or not. 

Ahead of him, Granger shifted, perhaps finally sensing his displeasure and quieting her thoughts. They slowed down, gathering in one easy-to-follow stream of consciousness as she mentally narrated the notes she was writing.

Finally.

Thankful for the reprieve, Draco bent over his own parchment, able to block out one uninterrupted thought flow better than a scattered bombardment of singular thoughts. Still, the applications she pulled out of whatever mental filing system she had –however confusing it was–

were always apt and several times provided a new angle for Draco to mull over.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He relegated it to the back of his mind, where most of his thoughts about Granger went these days, never to be seen or felt again.

3. Sunday, 15 September, 1996 (6th Year)

The form of one Hermione Granger slumped over her books in the library made Draco pause on his way past her table to the shelf he wanted. 

He’d missed her mental chatter over the summer as he learned Occlumency from his aunt and improved his Legilimency. However, with his new and improved mental shields firmly up since his return to Hogwarts, he hadn’t cared to attempt to breach hers again. He had better things to do with his brain than listen to her mental ramblings. 

Honestly, he felt a bit bad for her after he’d eavesdropped on her when she was with the limpets one study session. She certainly possessed a surplus of patience dealing with those two, considering the filter her thoughts passed through before they made their way to the limpets’ ears.

Cautiously, he attempted to listen in on her thoughts as he made his way behind her, out of sight and out of mind (well, in one sense). Nothing. 

Draco frowned. His Legilimency had only improved over the summer, and he couldn’t feel any Occlumency walls or shields. Her mind was simply…not producing thoughts. It was such a deviation from the norm that he began to grow worried that something had happened to Granger. 

He sent a small stinging jinx at her leg. She jerked, slapping at her leg as thoughts began to form, to his relief (he simply tossed that feeling in the pile of galleons holding his true emotions that were stored in his very well guarded mental horde, never to be considered further).

Ouch, what was that? She glanced around, but he was safely hidden behind the shelves. Oh well. You’ve got Charms homework to crack on, Hermione. She pulled a piece of parchment forward and dipped her quill in the ink bottle, tapping the excess ink off on the side absentmindedly as she began figuring out the wording of her essay. 

Two students walked by, whispering about the Quidditch tryouts the day before. Granger snickered as an image of Cormac McLaggen flying off in the wrong direction flitted through her mind like the Snitch taunting the Seekers. 

Confundusing McLaggen was too easy. I’m glad Ron got the spot. She flipped through the Charms textbook. Focus, ‘Mione, Charms!

Draco left her mind, humming thoughtfully. So the little swot had sabotaged the tryouts for her incompetent boyfriend’s favour, huh. How positively Slytherin of her.

4. Monday, 30 March, 1998 (7th Year)

The shaking form of Hermione Granger on his drawing room floor kept Draco frozen in his spot, unable to look away. Her expression was screwed up in pain as she bit her lip, trying not to let a scream escape. Suddenly her eyes flew open, meeting his and pinning him in place. 

His wandless Legilimency was weak at best, but with eye contact…

Legilimens.

Draco slipped into her brain easily, almost staggering as the pain of the Cruciatus curse spread to him. Granger, it will be okay. Hold on. You have to hold on, Granger. Please.

Mal-Malfoy?

Some of the pain in her eyes was replaced with confusion. He barely moved a muscle to nod reassuringly at her.

Yes, it’s me, Granger. Keep fighting. You have to, for all the others. You will survive this, I swear it. Just hold on a little longer, please, Granger.

Why are you doing this? A drop of blood trickled down her lip as she bit down harder.

I can’t stop my aunt, but I can take some of your torture. It’s nothing new. Just hold on, Granger, you’re not alone here. They’re coming for you. They’ll get you out of this.

But you hate me. You’re on his side.

Not anymore; I have to. For my mother and my sake. Just like you have to for Potter and Weasley and your sakes. 

Bellatrix cast another Cruciatus, determined to make Potter’s Mudblood scream. Draco took more of the pain from Granger, determined to give her that one minuscule victory of staying quiet. 

Granger squeezed her eyes shut again at the renewed assault, temporarily cutting off their connection. Draco took a large, un-Slytherin risk and lowered a little of his Occlumency defences, reaching out to Granger’s loud mental screams. 

Hush, Granger, I’m still here. Can you feel me through the mental link?

I thought Legilimency needed eye contact? She gasped. 

I’ve improved my Legilimency over the summer. I don’t need eye contact if your mental defences are down and you’re practically screaming in my head. 

Granger’s reply was cut off as she noticed something above her, her eyes opening in another convulsion. Dobby was unscrewing the chandelier in the drawing room above the gathered crowd. 

Come with us, she said, a flicker of surprise flashing after the words. Leave the Manor and him behind.

I can’t, Granger. My mother–

A vague sense of sympathetic understanding echoed through her mind underneath the spasms of pain. 

Just say a nice word at my funeral, will you? 

Dr–

He left her mind as Potter & Co appeared in front of the group, throwing them into chaos. At least his insane aunt was forced to stop cursing Granger and cast other spells instead. 

He half-heartedly wrestled with Potter over a couple wands, hoping the Death Eaters would be too distracted to notice the way he so easily let Potter wrestle them free. 

A flash of crystal as the chandelier dropped–

A flash of silver as Bellatrix threw her knife–

A flash and crack as the Order members apparated away–

And she was free. Draco closed his eyes. The Order would win the war, he was sure of it. What that meant for him, he no longer cared. 

5. Monday, 5 October, 1998 (1st Day of 8th Year)

Draco, from his vantage point at the top of the stairs to the dorms, looked around the common room at the combined houses mingling peaceably. He had an excellent view. 

The bronze curls and slow smile of one Hermione Granger, War Heroine, were warmly shaded by the light of the fireplace she sat beside, conversing with classmates. 

She had regained some colour to her skin over the summer, he noticed, and a handful of freckles besides. Her hair was more curl and less frizz, her eyes were livelier and less shadowed, though they showed her forced maturity no matter how much they sparkled (Draco didn’t think that those would ever disappear from any who had them), her body was curvier and less malnourished than when he’d last seen her months ago at his trial. 

He felt the edges of his lips curling up in a genuine smile as he sat and observed all the positive changes in her life and body. 

He’d thought he was well-hidden in the shadows (certainly everyone was treating him as though he were truly wrapped in Potter’s invisibility cloak), but suddenly her eyes snapped to his and she held his gaze, leaving no doubt that she had caught him staring. 

She quirked her eyebrow in silent question and invitation. He didn’t need Legilimency anymore to know how to read her, most of the time. 

He’d spent all his summer house arrest fixating on any scrap of news the papers published about her, of which there were plenty. Thousands of photos of the most famous and Brightest Witch of Her Age had been clipped and carefully transferred to his scrapbook. It was a little ridiculous at this point, just how thick it was. It was hidden the Muggle way, under the floorboard under his bed, along with a thick stack of letters they had exchanged in between her busy schedule of testifying, repairing battlegrounds and casualties, and healing herself, and his busy schedule of daydreaming as he scoured the papers

He shook his head slightly, making her brow drop and turn into a hint of a frown. He frowned back at her, motioning with a jerk of his head to continue her conversation, and got to his feet.

Draco, can you hear me?

He froze on the step.

I saw that and I’m taking it as a yes. Are you alright?

Peachy, Granger. I’m going to bed. Goodnight. 

…Goodnight, Draco. Sweet dreams.

He snorted. You take the sweetness for your own dreams. Ta.

He sat up with a gasp, uncomfortably sticky with sweat, his breathing fast and ragged. The nightmares had fallen off somewhat, but he supposed the first day back at Hogwarts had triggered their reemergence with full vigour. 

He settled back on his bed, turning his pillow over and resting his hands beneath it, the weight of his head grounding him. Once he’d slowed his breathing, he lay staring up at the shadowed ceiling. He reached out to Granger unconsciously, needing reassurance that she wasn’t still trapped in his drawing room with his aunt, unable to even have his mental support as he was held back with magical restraints. The dreams always ended up in his drawing room. 

Granger was asleep, seemingly undisturbed by night terrors. 

He flinched when he saw where Granger’s dreams had ended up. Surprisingly, it wasn’t like his nightmares at all. Bellatrix wasn’t there, or his mother. Only he and Granger were there, kneeling a hairsbreadth apart, his hand on her cheek, her hand on his knee. 

Feeling like he was intruding, Draco left her dream, returning fully to staring at the ceiling. Granger was safe and peaceful and that’s all that mattered. Whatever was happening in her dreams was none of his business. 

+1. Tuesday, 2 May, 2000 (2nd Anniversary of the Second Wizarding War’s End)

“Draco.”

He placed his glass of firewhisky down, turning to face his visitor. “Hermione. How are you doing?”

“Never better,” he smirked, some grain of truth to his words. “You?”

Her pink lips turned up at that. “Good. I’m content with my present. It is a bit difficult with all the,” she waved at the fancy surroundings, “circumstances, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” The room was filled with decorations and the setup for hundreds of people to celebrate the second year of Voldemort’s defeat.

“I’m pleased to hear that. You look good. The Ministry treating their Golden Girl well at her new job?”

She rolled her eyes, playfully nudging his arm. “Not you too. And yes, I’ve finally managed to get the preferential treatment left off. It only took, what, eleven months?”

“You should keep some preferential treatment, Granger,” he said solemnly. “Remind them that none of them would be here if it weren’t for you. Don’t let them take you for granted.”

She considered him, nibbling on her lower lip for a second as she bit back something. He was about to urge her to say it anyway when they were joined by Potter and Weaslette. 

“Potter. Weaslette.”

“Malfoy. Hermione,” greeted the couple. 

“Hello, Harry, Ginny.”

“I must admit I’m a little surprised to see you here,” said Harry, pushing his glasses up as he took a swig of his drink. Draco assumed he was talking to Hermione, given the circumstances.

Hermione made an agreeing noise. “I felt I should, even if I didn’t want to. I’ll find you later, Malfoy was just about to take me to get a drink, alright?”

The couple nodded and waved them off as Hermione’s hand slipped into his, pulling him away.

He blinked at their joined hands, then the back of her head as she steered them towards the bar.

“You didn’t want to stay and talk with your friends? I could’ve left.”

“No, you were there first. Besides, I wanted to talk to you in private, and we see each other much less frequently than I see Harry and Ginny.”

“Oh? Consider my interest piqued, Granger. What on earth could you want to talk to me about? You can always owl me and arrange a meeting some other time. I’m sure you still know my address, even if we haven’t written each other in awhile.”

She ordered a cocktail and leaned against the bar, turning to face him. “Do you know any place around here where we might have an uninterrupted chat?”

He hummed, tapping his chin in thought. “I may have an idea or two.”

Hermione’s drink retrieved and his topped up, he extended his arm to her and led them across the room, through dark hallways dimly lit by candle sconces, until he opened a door, gesturing her through. 

“Welcome to the private sitting room of Lady Malfoy, where none are sure to disturb.”

“Won’t your mother–”

“My mother is busy overseeing the anniversary ball, doing her best to continue polishing our name to return it to its former shine. Besides, she is quite fond of you and will be most obliging and understanding. Unless, by ‘private chat’ you meant a quick shag, in which case I am more than happy to escort you to my private rooms,” he winked, settling in the corner of the settee mere handbreadths away from her.

She blushed and rolled her eyes. “That is not what I meant. This will be fine, thank you.”

“Alright. What is so secretive that you lured me to this dark, isolated room, Granger? Should I be in fear of my innocence being tainted?”

“It’s just us now, Malfoy, you can stop with the cavalier facade. I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to help me learn and practise Legilimency.”

Draco blinked. “You’re learning Legilimency?”

“I’ve been informed that my natural Occlumency is quite advanced already,” she smirked at him, “and I believe it would be useful to learn Legilimency. You know I can’t tell you everything about my work as an Unspeakable, but I work with Memories and Obliviators. I think Legilimency would be quite useful to know in my line of work, and…well, I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more with my mind to teach me.”

Draco swallowed. “I won’t insult you by asking if you’ve thought this through, but just for my peace of mind, Granger, you really want me in your mind again? Even after…”

She nodded firmly twice. “I asked you to help me improve my Occlumency and mental resistance, especially against you, because I thought we both needed space apart from each other. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you or want you in my mind. You know I didn’t mind that, especially after the Incident. Now that I’m content with my Occlumency, I wish to learn Legilimency. I still trust you with my mind, Draco, we just needed some boundaries.”

He nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and run his fingers through his hair. “My mind healer told me our bond was becoming codependent and unhealthy. I’ve finally seen your points,” he sighed. “ I- you’re ready to do this again?”

“My mind healer cleared me a while ago, but I waited to be sure both of us were. But if you’re still not…maybe today wasn’t the best day to bring this up, after all. I’m sorry, I’ll leav-”

His fingers were wrapped gently around her wrist before he even knew what he was doing. “No, stay, Granger. I’m ready. I just wanted to clear some of my past reservations up first.”

Her answering smile was brilliant. “Good! When would you be free to start, then?”

“Now?”

Hermione smiled at the sight of Draco’s blonde head sticking above the back of her sofa. One arm was resting along the back, his long fingers tracing aimless designs in the blue floral pattern.

She paused, struck by an impulsive thought. Pulling out her wand, she whispered, “Legilimens,” under her breath, transporting to his mind. She fell in instantly, surprising her considering the challenge he had set her to get into his mind when he wasn’t expecting her. Surely it wasn’t this easy…but it didn’t feel like he was Occluding…

She wandered through his mind, as always astounded by his neat organising, so unlike her own mental filing system. Hers worked perfectly well for her, but she had long felt Other for her strange ways of remembering obscure topics and collecting scraps of random information. She had finally come to accept her strangeness and embrace it, even, but she still had a little pang of jealousy at seeing his easy organisation.

 She strolled through the cave that was his mental fortress, surprised to not be greeted by his defending dragon. What was he planning?

She continued on her way, pausing to observe his vaults of memory-gems and emotion-coins, locked up behind steel and iron. The locks on some had become simpler, less guarded, from when they’d parted ways at the end of Eighth Year, and she wondered if she was seeing proof of his mind healer’s influence.

The vault she’d always been most curious about, at the back, was cracked open.. Taking it as an invitation, she peered in. It looked like a Gringotts vault, full of artworks and artefacts and piles of wealth heaped in the corners. Looking closer, each object held something related to her. Memories, feelings, dreams… 

Feeling like an intruder, although she assumed he’d let her in for a reason, she stepped in cautiously. A memory met her full-force.

October, Sixth Year

Draco glanced across the table to hers, where she twirled a curl around her finger, deep in thought over a thick tome. 

“Legilimens.”

He’d been getting the hang of wandless legilimency when he returned to Hogwarts, fresh from his aunt’s teaching. He’d practised on enough minds over the summer to know that hers was different, moreso than anyone else’s, and it intrigued him. 

At first, yes, it had annoyed him, all her loud, fast thoughts, but now he found it comforting to listen in. He enjoyed trying to figure out which Express her thoughts were going to take before she did, to try and follow her leaps of intellect and even beat her to her conclusions. 

And then there were her memories…the happy bustle of the Burrow (even if he was a little blinded by the sheer amount of gingers in one place), the summers out exploring with her Muggle parents, the interesting lives the Muggles lived and their strange inventions, the happy times she had with the limpets, she had so many happy memories. 

They all seemed tinged with a warm sepia glow, preserved by some force Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was a far cry from his own, cold grey and black shrouded in smokey vignette. Her memories simultaneously made him wish to turn them to ash and keep them in a Fiendfyre-proof vault. He left her head with a scoff and got up, leaving the library.

Hermione blinked, overcome with his emotions and the memory. He’d confessed in their letters before Eighth Year that he’d often slipped into her head, but she hadn’t fully understood it until now. Another memory flitted forward as the previous one slid back into Draco’s neat storage. 

March, Seventh Year

Draco was horrified to see her dragged into his drawing room by the Snatchers. His gaze flicked from her, to his aunt, to the Snatchers. He’d long since learned to temper his flight or fight response with freeze.

He’d stayed frozen until Bellatrix had cast the first Crucio and she’d met his eyes. 

It was strange seeing her memories through Draco’s eyes, especially once he’d jumped into her head and was seeing her thoughts. 

Granger, it will be okay.

She often recalled the first words he’d said to her when he entered her mind. And then she felt the phantom echoes of pain, and realised that Draco had absorbed some of the Cruciatus for her. 

Jerking out of the memory with a gasp, she panted for breath, hand on her heart, reminding herself that it was only a memory.

“Draco!”

He strolled out of the shadows of the vault, hands in his pockets, eyebrow raised in silent question. 

“Hermione.”

“You absorbed the Cruciatus for me?” Blast it, she could feel the sting of tears fast approaching. Now was not the time to cry. She blinked hard.

He shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? I’m sure that would have gone even farther to prove your case for acquittal at your trial!”

“Does it matter, Granger?” He sounded annoyed. “That’s not usually how this goes.”

She paused, confused. “How does it usually go, then?”

He rolled his eyes. “I have a nightmare about the Incident, you remind me it’s not real, we kiss, et cetera,” he waved his hand summarily. “Don’t know why I expected Dream-Hermione to be any less argumentative than Real-Hermione,” he muttered under his breath.

Hermione tilted her head, contemplating. So Draco dreamed about her. She’d thought nightmares about the Incident had decreased. But apparently he also dreamed about current-her comforting him. Interesting. She hadn’t been sure if he’d still be as fond of her as he’d been in Eighth Year, after they’d had some healing and time apart from their traumatic bonding experiences. Well, it was good to know her slightly-more-than-a-crush was reciprocated. 

“I’m going to ignore that, just this once. Draco, are you dreaming?”

He looked at her in puzzlement. “Obviously. I really don’t know why you had to change the dream from snogging me senseless to rehashing the Incident, though,” he frowned.

She raised her eyebrow. “Snogging you senseless, huh? That explains your absolute lack of Occlumency,” she snickered. “You were practically inviting me in. Guess your subconscious was tired of your lack of making a move and made it for you. Would you care to wake up so I can actually snog you senseless, then?”

Draco blinked, then his jaw dropped and a blush rose on his cheeks and eartips. 

She turned to leave, then remembered why she’d come in the first place. “Oh, by the way, since I was able to get into your head successfully, I’ll be claiming my prize of one wish from the loser. I’m sure you’ll quite like it, don’t worry!” With a wink, she left, leaving him gaping after her.

Hermione settled on the sofa beside him, smirking softly at his adorably flustered expression as he woke up and saw her.

“Er, Hermione–”

“Sh, Draco. You like me and I like you, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Well, I suppose–”

“Good, then. Based on the sheer volume of that vault about me, I assume we have many many snogs to make up for.”

He exhaled in defeat, a smile taking over his face. “You’re right, as always.” He winked at her, leaning in quite willingly to meet her in the first of many kisses.

[moritashie]

"Will you go with me?" 900 words

huge thank you to @shootothrill and Thali from DC for their help <33

Tony Stark, Iron Man, is in his kitchen again. He has been coming over every day without fail for the past two weeks and has told Peter why, but excuse him for questioning the intentions of the gazillionaire suddenly being all buddy buddy with him.

It is especially strange, as before that, the only four interactions he remembers were of them fighting about Spider-Man. It must've been about this amazing superhero Spider-Man. Peter is pretty sure that Tony doesn’t know that he knows about those arguments. He doesn't understand why exactly the man is acting all friendly, so positive, so fake that it annoys him.

A lot of things began to annoy him recently. The way Ned is suddenly interested in watching sports, the way May constantly sends him random articles from the past two years and the way everyone seems to have already moved on from his uncle's death.

A knock on the door throws him away from his train of thought. 

“Can I come in?” Tony asks from the other side of the door.

“Go ahead.” 

Peter clicks off his pen and lays it next to the notes. The knob turns and Mr. Stark's beelines to Peter's desk. 

“A little birdie told me you still haven't left the house.”

“Didn't wanna.”

“Well, maybe you'll wanna when I tell you about the Expo~”

Correction. Five interactions. Four negative, one positive. 

‘Nice work, kid’. 

And only one that actually feels his. 

“I won’t.” Peter cuts him off.

“Oh, turn that frown upside down, underoos. Will you go with me? Pretty please? Please with a cherry on top?” He lies on top of Peter’s desk, beaming like a child.

“I don’t feel like leaving the house, Tony.” 

“Mm, But I need my crazy–smart intern with me.”

Peter squeezes the pencil in his hand and feels it break inwards.

“I’ve never even worked with you.”

Tony makes an expression pretending to be oh-so petrified, and asks in an artificially low, quiet tone. “Then whose name is in the credits?”

Peter is on the verge of blowing up at the man. Some things start to boil real quick somewhere deep down in Peter’s chest. 

“I’ve told you.” He tries to stay calm. He swears he does. “That I’m not your intern. I don’t remember any of that, It's like it didn’t happen for me, I CAN’T DO ANY OF THE STUFF I DID WHEN I–” Tears well up in Peter’s eyes. He feels a sudden urge to throw his notebook across the room full force when his torso is squeezed tight by Tony. 

For the next few minutes his chest rises and falls, his heart rate slowly decreases and the sobs quiet down bit by bit, as Tony gently strokes his hair.

“I just don’t get you.” 

Tony hums and pulls Peter into a tighter hug. “When you first woke up after the accident, you were absolutely delirious. Going in circles, asking the same three questions every five minutes, you briefly recognized May on a good hour. I was so scared I would lose you, and I couldn’t even do anything to prevent it. And then you got better, and now I can do something to… Still have you by my side. Not just physically.” 

Peter says nothing, but he ducks away from Tony’s arms and raises his head to look at Tony, who seems out of his depth, moments from having a meltdown himself.

“Cho said that since you don’t seem to be recovering your memories, chances are that the past two years are go– aren’t coming back. We can’t wait until it all goes away, neither me nor May want you to stay cooped up in the apartment because of this. So please, let’s go out together. It doesn’t have to be the Expo, we can go to some restaurant or, hell, even an art museum. Baby steps.”

“...I did remember some things.” He mutters.

“What?” Tony asks in a soft voice that leaves Peter unsure whether he didn't hear the question or if he just wants Peter to clarify.

“It’s not much just- I can count all my memories with you on one hand but– you were always annoyed in those, or mad at me, like when we were on some ship? How am I supposed to trust that we’re close and you don’t just want to- I don’t even know… And if we were, I don’t feel like the person you are talking about.” 

The man’s eyes are glossy, and Peter wants the floor to swallow him whole. 

“I am so sorry Pete. I don’t know how to–  I can only promise you, I care about you. More than I thought I would care about anyone. I want you to go back to being happy and healthy, and learn to live with everything. And you are still you, memories or not. I see it every time I come over.”

He takes a deep breath as he carefully assembles the next sentences.

“I’ve researched support groups for people with amnesia, you're not the only one feeling this way. One is here, in Queens, could you at least consider trying? Once?” Peter hides his face in his knees, and Tony’s already bracing himself for refusal when the teen quietly mumbles.

“Will you go with me?”

Tony smiles. “I would love to.”

[xxladyballadxx]

Always In Your Heart

Vash x (Wife) reader

⚠️SUICIDE AND SELF HARM ARE INVOLVED IN THIS FANFIC. PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE⚠️

During an exhausting day by doing bounty hunting with his good ol’ pal Wolfwood, he decided to go for a drink with him before heading home to his wife, (Y/n). Speaking of (Y/n), Vash wondered if she’s managing alright at home by herself. He insisted on calling Meryl and Milly over to spend time with (Y/n) so she doesn’t get lonely. However, (Y/n) wanted to be alone at home. 

Each day and week, Vash’s concerns for his wife grew extremely high and is worrying for her wellbeing and health. Saturday he noticed recent scars on (Y/n)’s arms when he came home from grocery shopping. Vash wished to talk to her about it but kept losing the chance every time (Y/n) changed the subject.  

There was just one time Vash heard (Y/n) sobbing in the bathroom, he comforted her and asked what’s wrong. He held her close while she talked about what’s bothering her. 

Vash managed to talk about the marks on (Y/n)’s arms, he talked her out of it and pleaded with her not to do it anymore. (Y/n) and Vash cried together in an embrace.

‘Whatever you’re going, please know that I’m here for you. No matter how big or small it is, you can always tell me anything.” 

Those words from Vash made (Y/n) cry even more. She calmed down afterwards and fell asleep in the bedroom, resting her mind while Vash lay down next to her. 

~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~

“(Y/n), babydoll, I’m home.” As Vash returned home, he knew something was off. Awfully quiet in the house, (Y/n) didn’t respond to Vash when he called out to her. 

Vash called out his wife’s name multiple times. Still no response. He jogged upstairs to see if (Y/n) was in the room. “(Y/n)..?” He slowly opened the door as it made a creaking sound. 

He entered the room with his heart shattering into pieces, spotted his wife lying down on the floor…dead. A spilled bottle of pills was found on the floor, beside (Y/n)’s right hand. 

“(Y/N)!!!” Vash bewailed, he rushed to her and bent down, holding his wife in his arms as he shed tears, “(Y/n)...why?” His face swelled with grief and sorrow, his head hurting from shedding a lot of tears. He can feel himself falling apart. Witnessing his wife who took her own life….is gone.

Suddenly, he noticed a folded piece of paper in (Y/n)’s other hand. Vash slipped it away from his wife’s cold hand at a slow pace and started reading it, small teardrops dripping down on the letter from his blue-emerald eyes as he read it…

To my wonderful, loving husband Vash

I’m so sorry I did this to myself. I couldn’t stand being in this cruel, harsh reality anymore. I kept hearing voices in my head saying that I’m not good enough, Even my family who left me in the dirt. I can hear them saying horrible things about me. You as well…

Just know that it’s not you, it’s me. I kept having negative thoughts about myself. All this time, I thought no one could ever love me. Never. Until you came into my life. I had no idea someone like you would fall for me.

I said to myself once that I could never be with someone who is warm-hearted, so sweet and so kind…

Keep on living, Vash…for me

No matter how many people are against you just for who you are or what you are, know that I am always here in your heart. Even though I am gone…I will always be watching over you…

I love you so much my dear, I am very glad to have met you, so glad to have you in my life…

Thank you for accepting me,..

Thank you for everything…

From your loving wife…(Y/n)..

Vash’s hands were shaking in despair, he wept and held the letter close to his heart. He screamed out a cry along with his heart screaming along with him…

Vash The Stampede…

A hunter of love and peace…just lost the most precious person in his life…

(A/n)-I actually cried while writing this...💔💔

[soobrat]

siren iii

genre; humor, angst kinda glancing around the corner, suggestive

warnings; poorly edited, suggestive content, wine consumption, a lot of tension and corniness :)

preface; however I portray the idols in this work does NOT indicate my true feelings about them, and you hating them as characters here doesn't mean you hate the actual idol... because there will be characters you HATE

siren masterlist

“23 and you already have your own restaurant?” Roseanne nods, moderately impressed. Both of the men who came after Mingyu will have a very hard time wowing the room. While everyone is either focused on Mingyu or their chosen match, you find yourself entranced by the way Jaemin speaks. He’s bright, but not with an angelic glow. His smile is wide and his speaking boisterous. He’s the only guy who’s managed to steer the attention to himself so far whenever he makes a genuinely funny joke. Everyone has been awkward so far, noting the weather or making dad jokes. Whatever’s safe. Jaemin, however, seems to be completely uninhibited by fear of being disliked. He’s being himself right off the bat.

“For now. We’ll see how I’m handling those bills in a few years.” Jaemin tugs at his collar theatrically and you roll your eyes.

“You’re trying so hard not to brag.” You laugh prematurely when his eyes snap to you, knowing what’s coming next.

“Here you go again trying to force me to have bad character values.”

“I just want you to be honest.” You shrug.

“He’s clearly just a humble everyman.” Mingyu nudges you over the gap between the couches, forcing you to realize how active you’ve been in the conversation since Jaemin entered the house. You and Mingyu laugh as Jaemin vehemently agrees. You glance from Mingyu to the girls and get ensnared by Chaeyeon. She continues to stare even after you notice. You get chills, this being the first time she’s done anything other than staring at the floor or looking up at someone briefly.

“Let’s play a game.” Yizhuo bounces in her seat, moving forward to see everyone. “To get a good feel of your personalities.”

Everyone turns in toward Yizhuo, suddenly intrigued. “If you all were women, which of the guys would you date?” She says to the men in the room, making everyone hoot and holler. 

“I’d date Taehyun because he’s all mysterious.” Jaemin pipes up before anyone else had the chance to answer.

“Of course you answer first.” You fall back into bickering with Jaemin so seamlessly. He leans over and shrugs as if he needed to demonstrate any further how shameless he was.

“I’d pick Jake.” Mingyu states, ending his sentence abruptly with no emotion to hint at his motives. 

“Why?” Somi asks in utter confusion. You snort at the hint of distaste she lets fall through. You immediately clear your throat, Jaemin has made you too loose.

“Because he’s sweet, good boyfriend material I think.”

“Well I’d pick you.” Jake replies. “For obvious reasons.”

“I would too.” Yunho chuckles. “You’re very flashy.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, noting the frown that flickers onto Yunho’s face for a split second. Also the way Jake watched Roseanne intently after giving his answer.

“And you, Taehyun?” Roseanne peeks her head out, most likely realizing that she had forgotten he was there. With how quiet he was and how subdued his reactions are, it’s hard not to. Taehyun lifts his chin slightly, the first of the men to put genuine thought into his choice. He nods before uttering “Me”.

The room erupts in annoyance and boos. You cut your eyes at him. You never really had a reason to have negative feelings toward him, but they were hidden there. What he just did just dug those feelings up to the surface. You don’t notice you’re scowling at him until his eyes meet yours. You quickly look away. 

“Okay so two for Mingyu, two for Taehyun, and one for Jake.” Roseanne claps her hands together. “Interesting indeed.”

The tone is heard overhead again and everyone quiets up. 

“Singles! It’s time for your first group activity.”

Excitement is contagious as it flows around the room. Everyone either looks at someone of the same gender or inadvertently at that special someone. You look at Yizhuo who always has the cutest look of mischief and chuckle.

“A live feed of all of you has been put on our website for the public to see prior to official airings.”

A spark ignites the room, singing away all the excitement and leaving shock. This time panicked looks are sent to anyone whose eyes yours connect with. Rushed introspection is interrupted as the tv cuts on to play from the moment Jake was let into the house.

“The nature of this show encourages women to make the first move. For the first pairings, women will pick the activity they want and the man they wish to accompany them. However, according to audience input, the women will receive a prize or penalty depending on how much positive or negative comments they got. Welcome to Flipped Fling.”

Shock unwittingly mixes with amazement after the announcement finishes. You rub the chill bumps that form on your forearms away. The voice sounds again.

“Since she got the most positive feedback, ___,”

You stiffen as you hear gasps and feel eyes on you.

“You get first pick for the man you wish to accompany you. Please stand on the platform in front of the television.”

The edges of the platform illuminate as everyone reacts in intrigue. 

“You go girl!” Roseanne cheers you on as you stand up, Yizhuo and a couple of the guys join in. As you stand before everyone, you find it a little difficult to make a decision with all eyes on you like this. You drop filler onomatopoeia left and right as you look between all the men.

“You’re in the position to get whatever you want at the moment.” Chaeyeon speaks, her voice seeming to echo more than it should. It’s fuller than it usually is too as she stares into you. You need to get off this damn platform. You say the name of someone who will put you at ease and not start drama with a love triangle.

“I choose Na Jaemin.”

The light on the platform switches to green as a positive tone sounds. 

“You can now return to your seat.”

You hurriedly scurry back to the couch, heart racing as if you were just at gunpoint.

“There will be five tasks each couple will complete. Preparing dinner, designing a dress code, choosing the night’s playlist, decorating the dining area, and picking the nights wine at a one on one wine tasting.”

The television switches to a breathtaking vineyard with a very romantic seating area. The perfect scenery for a date. You would choose that one if you were already romantic with someone, right now it’d just be awkward.

“The first couple formed tonight will be going to the Kurnet vineyard as the first official date of the season.”

Disappointment fills the room as the illusion of choice is ripped away, everyone having to dump out their daydream of a moonlit wine date. You look over at Jaemin, the only person excited at the moment. The screen changes again, this time a wheel with the other four women’s names.

“This wheel will decide the order the rest of the women will go in. Except…”

You gasp as Somi is removed from the wheel.

“Receiving the most negative input, Somi will be going last.”

Somi scoffs, starting to defend herself only to give up and cross her arms as she realizes the choice has already been made.

“First to choose…”

The wheel spins, blurring every name before slowing between Chaeyeon and Yizhuo. It crawls until barely passing the line separating them, landing on Yizhuo. 

“Please stand at the platform to choose your man and activity.”

She giddily makes her way to the platform, immediately picking Jake and not caring how it makes her look. You can’t help but be charmed by how unabashedly excited she is. She chooses the playlist activity, which you would’ve picked if you had a choice. Listening to music means very little speaking with very little dead air. 

Next is Roseanne who chooses Yunho. Judging by how much more pissed Somi is after that choice, Yunho must have been her backup. 

Chaeyeon calmly makes her way to the platform, taking her sweet time throughout the entire process as if you all don’t know who she’s going to pick.

“I choose…. Um…. Mingyu.” She says with a look that suggests she’s still unsure. Regardless, she picks preparing dinner, which leaves Somi to decorate with Taehyun. The pairs are sent to their designated areas. You watch, noticing how only one pairing seems completely content, and it’s the one with the two most beautiful people there. Roseanne and Yizhuo are very pleased with their partner while they look elsewhere. 

You and Jaemin say goodbye to everyone else once it’s announced your ride is here. He locks his arm in yours, seemingly excited to get drunk off expensive wine.

-🖊️⇝

Fairy lights hang above you as you both follow the cobbled path toward your table. You’re happy you wore long sleeves or the pit of your elbow would be sweaty by now. The lights reflect like stars in Jaemin’s large eyes as he admires the vineyard. You giggle at him but it doesn’t distract him. As you’re seated, there’s a cart brought out with five bottles of wine.

You watch as the waiter(?) presents the first bottle before pouring a small amount into your glass. Before Jaemin gets his, he stops the waiter to get a better look at the bottle.

“A white wine first?” He asks, still examining the text as he gets his answer. As his glass is filled, he and the waiter chat about the color, how dark it is. Jaemin takes his glass by the stem and tilts it, staring intently. Not being able to garner what he’s amazed by, you copy him. As the liquid climbs up the glass, you notice how it almost completely obscures the grapes printed on your cloth napkins. You gasp, intrigued despite not exactly knowing what it means.

“You see that?” Jaemin’s eyes light up once he sees what you’re doing. You nod, looking back at the wine. 

“It’s definitely full bodied.” 

He lifts the glass upright, swirling it with his eyebrows knitted. You watch him in amusement while stifling your laughter. 

“That looks fun.”

“Of course, you’re not a connoisseur.” He pronounces the word with a botched italian accent which is the wrong language anyway. 

“Oh what, doing this,” You swirl your wine mockingly, “makes me a connoisseur?” You say with the correct french accent. Jaemin’s eyes widen, impressed.

“You sound so Italian.”

You’re no longer able to contain your laughter, setting your glass down and turning your head away and letting out a loud “Pfft-”

Jaemin sputters. “We’re going to be here all day. We have four more wines to get through.”

“You’re right.” You clear your throat, taking a sip from your glass. Your eyes blow wider. “Mmm!”

Jaemin is still sniffing at the damn wine. He finally takes a sip and shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“Seriously?” You go in for another sip. 

“I mean, it’s worth the insane price but it’s not really speaking to me.”

“Not even when you were snorting it just now?”

“Can we get the next wine please?” Jaemin makes sure not to laugh along with you in case he encourages you.

The next three wines you try to copy his goofy routine, nearly spilling the wine several times. 

“This is the final wine, Love Dolce.” The waiter says as he fills new glasses for the both of you.

A drawn “ooo” is pulled from the both of you.

“Based on the name alone?” Jaemin shoots you a look that you return, signaling that you’re on the same page. You’ve become accustomed to tilting the glass by now. This time, the dark color of the wine helps it completely obstructs anything below the gasp. Seeing your surprise, Jaemin does the same. “Wow.”

“It’s a pretty color.” You remark. 

“Looks like… garnet?” Jaemin tilts his head. 

“Pretty color name.”

He moves onto the swirling step, which he does so skillfully and fast. You huff, trying to match his expertise but you can’t. 

“Here, try this.” Jaemin says, amused. You feel your face get hot as you look up at him. How long was he watching you sulk and struggle? He sets his glass down and signals for you to do the same. He places his index and middle fingers on the foot of the glass, swirling it that way. You follow suit, finding it to still feel a little clunky. He reaches over and places his two fingers on top of yours. You go to pull away but he soothes you.

“It’s okay. Lemme show you.” He keeps his eyes trained on his fingers. Good thing he did, or else he’d see the dumb look on your face. He helps you bring up a steady, slow pace before eventually speeding up. A smile spreads wide across your face as the wine perfectly swirls around the glass.

“What does this do?” You feel compelled to ask, but you honestly just like watching it spin. 

“I have no clue.”

The two of you burst into laughter for the five millionth time that evening.

-🖊️⇝

When the two of you make it back to the house, there’s Frank Ocean playing on the speakers, a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, and very messy decorations strewn about. Yizhuo welcomes you back and takes a look at the wine. 

“Ouu, fancy name.” Yizhuo relieves the wine from us and sets it on the kitchen counter. Jake is looking around from the couch, perking up all of a sudden. You initially think it’s because alcohol is here, but then you see two people coming down the stairs.

“The dress code is ready!” Roseanne sings, both her and Yunho in a very good mood.

“Food’s almost ready!” Chaeyeon matches Roseanne’s tone from the kitchen.

Roseanne takes to the platform with pieces of paper in her hands. “The theme we decided to go with are gem tones, and everyone has been assigned their own.”

She announces each tone as she hands them to the couples. Somi and Taehyun get midnight blue, Yizhuo and Jake get emerald green.

“We gave ourselves a sort of cool purple tone, and for you guys,” she approaches the two of you with a paper with the word “wine” written on it. “Wine, obviously. Last but not least, marigold for the golden couple.” Mingyu blushes as she approaches with their slip of paper. He looks down at Chaeyeon with pure glee, Chaeyeon looking back up with an unreadable grin. 

Once dinner is ready, the couples are sent upstairs to change. You take your only two options to a bathroom down the hall from your room.

“You pick anything out yet?” Jaemin stops you on your way, looking down at the clothes in your hand. “Lemme see.” You present him option A: a wool cardigan and beige skirt. The cardigan matches the “wine” theme better but is so itchy. But option B: a medium length satin dress with two seams that run diagonal, making an X through the dress. Where they intersect, a slit that is modest enough to not draw attention runs down. It’s more comfy, but it’s not quite “wine”.

“I pick B.”

“It doesn’t match our theme though, does it?”

“No, but look.” Jaemin moves his pick into view. It’s less deep of a red and warmer, just like the dress. You chew at your lip, still conflicted.

“They’re both garnet.” He raises his eyebrows at you. You inhale sharply, eyes flitting from your dress to his dress shirt. Your stomach starts doing cartwheels and you can feel your body heat up. It’s only day one and you have an inside joke with someone of the opposite sex. You don’t know the last time you clicked with a guy like this, it just always felt like they were putting up with you.

“Okay. B it is.” You hoist the dress up to drive home your choice and open the bathroom door. Jaemin places a hand on your shoulder and you stop. When you turn to look at him, his eyes are dark and he has an impish grin on his face.

“Should we get dressed together?” He quirks one of his eyebrows. Your heart thumps so fast it feels like it’s one continuous motion. You shove at his shoulders. 

“T-the cameras!” The camera men who usually follow you around are off filming another couple, but you spot one mounted on the wall, pointing directly at the two of you.

“It’s okay. I actually read the contract. Since they marketed this show as a sexless dating show, they agreed to dispose of any footage related to sex. Even if we say the word “sex” they have to get rid of it.” His tone seems lighter now, he was clearly only saying that to rile you up and you played right into his hand. Your heart calms a bit, but there’s still a glint in his eye. Like he’s checking to see if you’d actually be down. His eyes flicker down to your lips.

The door to the women’s bedroom opening makes you jump. You shove at him again, muttering at him to go get dressed.

When you and Jaemin are both downstairs again, wearing your not-wine-colored outfits, you’re directed to seats chosen for you. You’re put in the middle of the girls’ side.

“For being the top girl.” Chaeyeon pushes in your chair slightly. You look up at Jaemin who’s directly across from you. His eyes are following Chaeyeon as she goes to sit down. You look between them until she’s finally seated, only then do you release the breath you’ve been holding.

“The first course is a cranberry walnut salad.” Mingyu announces as he sets one bowl down at the right side of the table. 

“Course?” Roseanne asks as he sets the other at the opposite end. 

“We were told to come up with a menu, so.” Mingyu shrugs, his ego prematurely inflated.

The air is a bit tense as you eat. It’s the first time you’ve all been together since you first came. New information has been learned since then. People are taking hints, feeling bitter they didn’t get to be with who they truly wanted to be with, and feeling determined to convince their target. Seems like the latter is the strongest emotion.

“Roseanne, I love the color you picked out.” Jake’s practically wagging his tail.

“Yeah, I think it looks really good on him.” Yizhuo’s comment is a bit more shy. Regardless, the air is back to being tense after two compliments with two very different purposes. 

Somi clears her throat. “You’re so good at cooking, Mingyu! Oh my god.”

“Thanks. I mean a salad is kinda just throwing things together, wait until the next course.” If this were a normal circumstance where people would prioritize making a conversation function, Mingyu’s wink would have been directed at Somi. You know, the person he’s speaking to. But he winks at Chaeyeon and Somi unknowingly scowls. You hide your face in your hands, the tension officially too much to bear. 

“Wine anyone?” Taehyun offers, raising the bottle in the air. Many people pipe up to have it passed to them. Being drunk only makes you more anxious only to throw up, so you pass on any more. Taehyun speaking brings your attention back to him. He is the only one without a clear target so far. He’s not watching anyone, just sipping his wine and eating his salad. Even during the next course– steak and garlic mashed potatoes– he seems to be just enjoying his food.

“Chaeyeon, how did you go about preparing this?” Yunho pipes up. 

“Mingyu did the cooking. I tried cooking some of the steak because I thought it’d be fun. I’m sorry if it tastes funny.” Chaeyeon’s head doesn’t get the chance to droop as the room ignites to cheer her up. Namely Mingyu, Yunho, and… Jaemin. His is understated, but still noticeable.

“Look, even the chef doesn’t think so.” Mingyu plants a hand on Chaeyeon’s back, a move that neither Somi nor Yunho miss.

“Okay.” Chaeyeon nods, smiling shyly. 

Chaeyeon. Chaeyeon. Roseanne. Jake. Chaeyeon. Chaeyeon. 

Their names are called again and again by the same people. The only reason we’re not hearing “Mingyu” is because Somi is sulking; and we’re not hearing “Yunho” because Roseanne isn’t wearing her heart on her sleeve. That leaves you, Chaeyeon, Jaemin, and Taehyun. 

Chaeyeon doesn’t even get a chance to spark a conversation with the two men bombarding her. Jaemin… well he hasn’t really spoken much. Not to you or anyone. And Taehyun–

You get startled by Taehyun’s gaze being settled on you again. This time, controlled by your curiosity, you hold his gaze. He seems to be examining you as much as you’re examining him. You learn no new information about Mr. Personal Trainer Kang Taehyun.

It’s time for Desert and Chaeyeon announces she’s full. Yizhuo, even quieter this time, agrees. 

“Whew!” Roseanne places her cloth napkin on the table. “Maybe we’ll save the ice cream for tomorrow. I’ll help with the dishes.” She takes the ice cream in the kitchen, not even giving you or Somi the chance to be unladylike and gorge yourselves. Despite you really wanting to. Chaeyeon tries to help clean the dishes but Roseanne shoos her away, saying she did enough by cooking. She accepts this with very little convincing, which means Mingyu and Yunho are no longer making their way to the kitchen. They instead follow Chaeyeon, disappearing up the stairs. 

Feeling no urge to go upstairs, you go help Roseanne. Your heart jumps when Jaemin does the same, brain chugging when Taehyun pops in as well. It’s a given that Jake comes, but sadly, Yizhuo retreats upstairs. Your chest constricts watching her, hoping she doesn't give up.

With the five of you, the mountain of dishes feel less daunting. Jake is watching Roseanne intently as he makes the soapy water. Your people watching is cut short by something white rising up and entering your vision. You gasp as a mountain of bubbles stretches up from the sink. Jake turns his attention back to his task, realizing he’s been dumping dish soap under the running water. He quickly shuts off the water, panicking as he takes in the bubble mountain. 

You laugh loudly, trying to stop so you can help him out. “It’s okay, we can use the dishes to pack it down.” You squeeze out. You go to pick up a plate but Jaemin stops you. “Wait a sec.”

You watch him in confusion as he takes a handful of the airy bubbles. He cradles them carefully before catapulting them into your face. You sputter as everyone around you laughs. You shoot him a death glare before arming yourself.

Washing the dishes has quickly turned into two children playing with bubbles. Jake pauses his amusement to shoot a cautious glance at Roseanne. She’s looking on in disbelief, trying and failing to contain her own amusement. Jake grabs his own handful and places it on top of Roseanne’s head. Jake is quickly mortified as Roseanne gasps, realizing he chose the worst place. Messing up her hair could be a huge dick move. His mortification is soothed after she takes those same bubbles and throws them toward him.

Instead of packing the bubbles down, they end up decreasing from time passing and being scooped up. Taehyun watches with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter and shaking his head. He dips his head to laugh as some gets in your mouth. You step back, trying to gain your bearings but end up slipping on the floor that’s much more slippery now. You nearly bash your head on the floor but Taehyun reaches out and grabs you. He hoists you up until your back is against his chest. Your heart is pounding because of the adrenaline and you try to catch your breath. That never happens as your brain focuses on how firm Taehyun’s chest is and how strong his arms feel hooked under your armpits. You slide away and thank him. 

“Okay let’s actually do what we came here to do.” Roseanne sets her hands on her hips to try and calm herself.

-🖊️⇝

“Who are you guys interested in?”

Why Somi asks this after how dinner went is beyond you. 

“I’m not sure yet.” Roseanne’s smooth Australian voice makes you forgive her blatant lie. Unless one bubble fight was enough to move her heart. 

“I think Jake is very sweet.” Yizhuo breaks free from her catatonic state to reveal her true feelings. “He’s my dream guy.”

“Mingyu’s very very very hot.” Somi sounds like she’s mourning and yearning at the same time. “God I want him so bad.”

The room goes quiet, and you watch Chaeyeon expecting her to go first. 

“Chaeyeon is pretty popular though, huh?” Roseanne laughs. 

“It seems like two guys like you.” Yizhuo comments wistfully. 

“Yeah.” Somi mutters, picking at her nails.

“But I think two guys like you too.” Roseanne turns toward you. You lift slightly with confusion and shock evident on your face. When that doesn’t help you out, you point at yourself. 

“Yeah. Jaemin said he had fun with you after you went upstairs. And I think Taehyun is interested too.”

“No way.” You shake your head, trying to do the math yourself. Jaemin plays around with you like a sibling. Except for that one thing. And Taehyun? He clearly likes nobody.

“I honestly think neither of them like me.” You squint once the picture doesn’t get clearer.

“I saw Taehyun staring at you a couple times.” Roseanne states. 

“Really? I…”

“I saw you guys staring at each other during dinner. Did you somehow miss that too?” Somi asks sarcastically. 

“Yeah but…” You guess you don’t really know what he’s thinking. Then your brain reflects back to how he felt against you. What if you had pushed your ass back–

“Goodnight!” You shout, turning off the lamp by your bed. The damn tone sounds over the speakers and everyone groans.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, singles! Ladies, there is a piece of paper, an envelope, and a pen. Please write a letter to the man you want to match up with. Stick the letter into the envelope and address it to him. But don’t reveal who you are! Make him feel who it’s from.”

siren masterlist

[davnittbraes]

The Fourth Step - Chapter Twenty-Eight

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3700

Warnings, etc.: anxiety, anxiety spirals, negative thoughts, negative self-talk, overall intense emotions, FLUFF see I can write balanced fic, the briefest of brief mentions of smut

Notes: I think a little explanation will help put reader’s mindset in this chapter into perspective. Those who deal with cognitive dissonance can hold conflicting thoughts in their head at the same time, and they have equal weight and significance even if they’re complete opposite lines of thinking. It can be confusing, lead to a disconnected sense of reality because you never know what’s true, and you distrust your own perception. Cognitive distortion is like a poisoning of positive thoughts, your mind twisting the good things into bad things. It’s very clever, very sneaky, and very difficult to tell the difference from a healthy thought process.

I deal with both, and lemme tell ya, when I first learned about it a lot of stuff started to make sense. If you’d like to learn more, go to your local library or do some googling. I hesitate to suggest direct links because there’s a lot of kooks out there who preach psychology without any actual education in the field, so please just do your research and check sources. And above all, love yourselves 🥰

Mando’a translations and spoiler notes at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Dank farrik, you’re tired. 

Even now, after curling up in your blankets and letting sleep dull the edges of that ache in your chest. Apparently you’ll need more than a few hours rest to get rid of the weakness in your muscles, that borderline tremble that keeps trying to take hold of your body again. 

You need some kind of normalcy to truly shake it - not the normal you had lived before Din and the kid. Not the normal your treacherous mind was pushing you toward, back in Mos Eisley. 

You need the routine of content domesticity that you’ve found only in the last few months. That gentle feeling of belonging. 

The warm, bright thing in your chest flares, weak but still there, pushing against the hollow ache that had been scraped out, reaching for something. 

You need Din. 

Shoving the blankets away along with the threatening memory of just how far you’d spiralled, you stand up and stretch, muffling a groan at how good it feels, the pull in your muscles and back, the prickle of the cool air over the bare skin of your arms and legs left exposed by your nightshirt. 

The rush of blood moving through stiff limbs fades from your ears and you pick up on the hum of the engines, that specific frequency that tells you the Razor Crest is moving through hyperspace. 

No other sounds drift over the engines, no quiet chatter or soft coos. The hold is dark, in the middle of night cycle - the kid must be asleep. 

Where’s Din?

You glance down at the blankets, as if his tall, broad frame would suddenly materialize there. 

A curl of unease swirls in the pit of your stomach.

Why hadn’t he come to bed with you?

Pressing a hand over the place where unease threatens to start building, you dig the tips of your fingers into your skin just enough to sting, distract you from falling back into those thoughts. 

He had suggested you get some rest, the moment the ship had broken Tatooine’s atmosphere. Nothing in that had been unusual, it was a typical Din gesture, always looking out for your well-being, reminding you to take care of yourself.

Your cheeks warm with the memory of how his hands had cupped your face, large and steady, helping you remember how to breathe. 

Unease surges under your palm. 

He hasn’t touched you since then. 

Pfassk. 

He hasn’t even looked at you. 

In fact, he’s kept his distance with something almost like intent. Striding toward the cockpit without a glance behind him as the door slid shut. Initiating the launch sequence in silence, black visor focused on the control console. Keeping his back turned to you in the cockpit, even while verbally prodding you to go lay down.

Your stomach turns slowly, nauseating. 

Something is wrong. 

A thousand thoughts burst across your mind, disjointed and sharp. 

Was he injured? Kriff, you hadn’t noticed, so caught up in your own head -

Something had happened, something to make him pull away from you after you had calmed down but what could -

He’s hurt, somehow, you can sense it, he’s not acting like himself. 

The urge to go to him pushes your feet toward the cockpit. He must be there, if he’s not in bed. 

Carefully, you pick your way through the hold, muscle memory guiding your steps despite the pitch-dark of the night cycle. Pausing by the bunk, you press your ear to the closed door, wave of relief passing over your skin at the muffled sound of soft snores. 

At least the kid’s ok. 

The durasteel floor is cold under your bare feet as you pad over to the ladder, pausing at the bottom. You take a deep breath, then climb into the cockpit, a frantic energy buzzing in your limbs, concern for him worrying your teeth over your bottom lip. 

It’s dimly lit, the lines of hyperspace the only light source, flooding the small space with a white glow tinged faintly blue, flashing ever-so-slightly. The unease dips low in your stomach when you see the glint of his helmet, and you quickly take him in, noting the straightness of his spine and shoulders, the tension pulling them back, holding him stiffly upright in his chair. 

Something is wrong -

But then he’s shifting, just a little, gloved hands moving over the console to pull up some kind of data report. There’s no indication of injury in his movements, and you release the breath you didn’t know you were still holding. 

Maybe you’re imagining things. Maybe everything is fine and you’re just feeling whatever residual anxiety is left after what happened on Tatooine. 

That craving for normalcy swarms over the unease. Yes, you need that, you need this to get your head back on straight. Routine. Quiet conversations with Din as the light of hyperspace flickers over the two of you. Just as it has countless times. 

You settle into your chair, tucking your legs close to ward off the chill. The nightshirt leaves your arms bare and only falls to mid-thigh, you probably should have brought a blanket with you, or taken a moment to change into clothes, but you’d been so worried about Din and now - well, now that you’re back in his presence, even the cold isn’t incentive enough to leave him again. 

It’s quiet in the cockpit. Just the engines, a distant pulse. It’s soothing on your frayed nerves. 

For a moment. 

Then it stretches, pulls tight. Fills with something unknown, a tension that radiates out from the beskar-clad frame in the pilot’s chair. 

Your tentative peace shudders, heartbeat picking up, hurting that scraped-raw spot behind your ribs. 

Something is wrong. 

His modulated voice startles you, sounding loud in the thick silence. “How are you feeling?”

A mix of relief and uncertainty makes you shift in your seat. It’s a normal question, one he’s asked before, voice warm with concern for your wellbeing. 

But there’s no warmth in his voice, now. No cold bite, either. 

It’s just empty words. 

You shake your head a little, blinking. Come on, pull out of it. Normal, you need normal. 

Forcing a smile on your face, you idly pick at the hem of your nightshirt to give your fingers something to do. “Much better, thank you. How’s the new coolant system working?”

“Fine.”

You wait, but he doesn’t say anything more, the black visor trained on the data scrolling across the screen in the console. 

Something is wrong -

Normal you need normal -

You clear your throat, trying again. “That’s good. So, where are we headed now?”

He shifts, helmet turning away from the console, corner of the black visor coming into view. But no more. The tension running through his frame seems to stop him short of looking at you. “Tionas. What happened?”

Unease is boiling into dread and you shove it down deep. “Oh, it wasn’t a big deal, really. Bad Knee Creep saw me on the street, tried to claim I owed him. I obviously argued otherwise, his nose may or may not have gotten broken during the conversation, and he had a few friends with him so I ended up running for it. They didn’t track us as far as Motto’s hangar, I know that, so there’s no need to worry about them recognizing the Crest or - “

“I’m not talking about that.” His words slice through your rambling, efficiently cutting it short. “What happened two days ago?”

Two days ago? You frown, thinking back. What - oh. 

A rush of embarrassment warms your skin, and you try to shrug it off with a casual lift of a shoulder, a self-deprecating smile, just in case he catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of the visor. “Oh. Right. I was in my own head about some things, but I’m better now. We can just move on.”

He’s still, silent. Motionless. 

Something is wrong -

You scrub a hand over your face, trying to brush away the itch of discomfort that settling over your skin. “Honestly, it’s fine. I mean, I still have some things to work through, but I won’t let it get in the way of the mission. I’ll stay focused on taking care of the kid, finding your people, the Jedi, all of it.”

Your hand drops to your lap, suddenly weak. Something like desperation grips your heart, squeezes. Why isn’t he saying anything? “I’m really fine, I swear. We can just move on and forget it happened.”

The white lines of hyperspace flash through the transparisteel, unsteady light that seems to amplify the silence.

Something is wrong something is wrong something is -

He suddenly spins toward you, chair squeaking with the movement, broad shoulders blocking out the light. The modulator crackles as his voice pushes through it forcefully. 

“No.”

You blink. “What?”

His gloved hands fist on his thighs, the line of tension pulling so tight it might snap. “No. I’m not going to forget it happened and move on. You shut me out. For two days.”

A rush of guilt floods your stomach, gnawing, dull and aching. “I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up in my own stuff and… never mind, it’s stupid.”

“You pushed me away so hard that I -“ his voice cracks, barely noticeable but enough to resound in your own chest - “You were so distant, you wouldn’t talk to me, then you show up with him and I thought - fuck, I sat here for the last few hours, waiting for you to wake up and tell me you were leaving.”

A sting of pain nips at your fingertips - your hands are curled too tight into the hem of your nightshirt. “I - none of it was your fault. I’m not - it’s not… it’s my own stuff to deal with, my own hangs up and anxiety to work through. It’s not your responsibility.”

His shoulders shift with a deep breath, fists flattening against his thighs as he visibly calms himself down. “We’re supposed to be in this with each other. Step by step, together. Remember?”

“We are, we are in this together.” Your own fists unfurl, damp palms sliding over your bare knees in an attempt to copy him, do the same and calm down, but guilt and desperation claw their way up your spine until your throat squeezes tight. “It’s just that I should deal with my own stupid mental shit, not you.”

A harsh sound of frustration snaps through the modulator. “It’s not stupid, and it’s not just yours. If we’re doing this together, then it’s mine, too.” 

He pauses, suddenly slumping as if exhausted, voice losing the edge of anger to soften into something gentle. “You don’t have to take it all on yourself. I want to help you, tionas. I can’t be with you and not care about you.”

Darkness creeps at the edges of your vision. It’s blinding, all-consuming, throbbing as it fills the hole it had already occupied just a few hours ago, using your tongue to speak. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be with me.”

No no no stop - 

You wrestle your thoughts back. The palms of your hands press tight to your eyes, trying to block out those whispers telling you to go run away it’s what he expects he knows you will he even said so -

Don’t please don’t -

I want to live -

But it’s too much, too much emotion battling for control and you can’t keep it contained. 

It bursts out, a flood of choked words that come from deep, deep down, beyond that dark throb and warm bright thing warring in your chest.

“I can’t do this, I can’t anymore. I can’t keep fighting that voice in my head telling me to run, hide, get away from you, because you know me, you know too much of me and -“ the words stop up in your throat and you cough, swallow hard, they rush out once again - “I don’t have the strength to keep pushing and trying and - it’s too much. I’ll never win. I’m so screwed up that I see people who are trying to help me as a threat, even the man I love.”

Tears are hot hot hot on your cheeks and they sting, you shove them away with fingers that shake and shut your eyes tight to keep more from falling. “You deserve better than this. Better than me. Kriff, Din, you’re so strong, so brave and thoughtful and kind and smart - you should be with someone like you, not a terrified coward who runs away from everything. Crikking hells, you’re a Mandalorian, and I-I’m a runaway slave. I ran to get my freedom, and I have never stopped running. Not really. Not deep down, where it matters. And I don’t think I can stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heartbeat is so loud, frantic, uneven, heavy, and you can’t hear anything over it, over the rush of air pulling through your constricted lungs, the grind of your teeth as your jaw clenches tight against the invisible force that presses down on you -

Something warm envelopes your hands, a gentle strength pulls your fingers into broad palms and holds them there. 

The warmth flows through your fingers, wrists, arms, pools in your chest and eases the pounding of your heart as it continues down, through your body until the weight lifts and your breathing steadies.

It’s ok. It’s going to be ok. You just need to open your eyes. 

And let him in. 

You obey, eyelids flickering slightly as they lift, and the black visor is right there, a familiar slash of dark through silver that makes the warm, bright thing in your chest surge to the forefront.

He’s holding your hands in your lap. The leather of his gloves smooth against your bare thighs. 

Yes. Good. 

Calm. Focus. Control. 

Breathe deep. See him there, in front of you, holding you. Listen to him. 

His voice is so soft through the modulator. “I am a Mandalorian. And a bounty hunter. And a… a father to a little green dude. But I am not just one of those things, I’m all of them and more. You told me that once, remember?”

The corner of your mouth ticks up, an almost foreign feeling. “Yeah. That was the night you first called me ‘tionas.’”

He hums in agreement, helmet tilting as he looks down at your joined hands. “Tionas. A question. A mystery. A namana berry farmer, and an eopie herder, and a distiller. All of them and more.”

His hands turn yours over, thumbs tracing the curve of your palms. “A mother to a child who loves you. A slave, and a free person.” 

The black visor meets your gaze once more, voice a hushed whisper. “A woman who has lived a thousand lives. Ne’kotir.”

You want to believe him - to let yourself believe him - so badly it’s palpable, a bittersweet bite on the back of your tongue. “How can I be undefeated if my own head is against me? I’m not strong enough to fight it by myself.”

“Needing help doesn’t make you weak.” He releases one of your hands to brush a fingertip over the curve of your cheek, tracing the path of your tears. “Defeat only comes upon us when we deny ourselves that which gives us strength.”

You jolt, surprised by the huff of laughter that bursts from your chest. “It sounds so simple when you say it like that.”

“I know it’s not that simple. But those words have helped me many times.” His hand cups your face, steady as you lean into his touch. “My people believe in the power of personal bonds. The strongest are those with a clan to support them.”

“I… I’ve never had that. I don’t know how to be part of a clan.” Your voice trails off into a whisper, emotion closing your throat again. 

The helmet tilts. “Yes, you do. Because you are.”

You frown, searching the visor for that hidden gaze behind it. “I’m what?”

“Part of a clan.”

Time stops. The cockpit disappears and it’s just him and you as he pulls your joined hands to his shoulder, presses your palm to his pauldron. 

To the signet of the mudhorn. 

The hand on your face nudges your gaze back to his - you hadn’t realized you were staring at where your hand covered the signet. 

His voice moves gently but firmly through the modulator. “This is yours, just as it is the kid’s. As it is mine. We are the same, kar’ta. Family. Aliit. Nothing can break that.”

He hesitates, breath stuttering, but then his hand pushes yours tight against the pauldron, rounded edges of the signet imprinting on your palm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

There’s a formal cadence, an importance to the words that settles deep, beckons you to know more. “What does it mean?”

A pause, then - “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

Tears of a different kind sting the corners of your eyes, and you can’t help but try the weight of those words on your own tongue. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

His thumb presses to your lips, like he’s preventing you from saying more but also desperate to feel those words that just fell from them.

You look at him, seeking answers to a question just starting to form in your thoughts but then there’s a flurry of motion, a hand covering your eyes and a clink of metal and then his lips are on yours and you forget everything else. 

His hair is soft between your fingers, his scent replaces the air in your lungs and you welcome it. The faint scratch of stubble on your cheek as his lips move over yours sends a shiver down your spine, and his free hand slips under your shirt to follow its path, blazing heat over skin still so new to touch.

The combination of sensations reminds you of the secrets you share with each other, the mutual trust that remains unbroken.

That warm, bright thing in your chest glows. 

You pull away, reluctant, but you know you need to say it. “I meant it, you know.”

A faint tremor moves through the hand over your eyes, the only sign that he understands what you’re referring to. His lips press another kiss to yours. “I know.”

You slip your hand from his hair, trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. “I was waiting for the right time to say it. Guess my own foolish tongue ruined that plan.”

His huff of laughter is everything. “Your tongue is anything but foolish, paklalat.”

“What does it mean?” 

“Clever-tongued.”

Your smile doesn’t feel as strange anymore, curves of your cheeks brushing the edge of his hand. “Yet you called me mir’sheb, first.”

“It’s a fine line.”

He lets you tug him forward again, trail your lips over his jaw. “Is there a Mandalorian word for ‘love?’”

The hand on your back sweeps up, resting between your shoulderblades, holding you at an angle so he can tilt your head back, kiss you deep, leave you breathless. “Not exactly. We say it in different ways, depending on the person.”

You catch him off-guard with your teeth on his lower lip, savouring the shiver that runs through him. “Everything is different with you.”

“Yes. Like that.” His mouth curves into a smile against the skin of your neck as he presses a kiss to your pulse. 

You hum in agreement, tempted to let him continue his path downward, but the warm, bright thing in your chest makes you pull him back up. “I think I still need to say it, the way I wanted to, given how terrible I clearly am at communicating.”

He hesitates, thumb stroking the line of your shoulderblade, breath falling hushed over your lips. “You don’t have to, I know -“

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

It’s then, in that moment, that you feel it. 

Finally, just. 

Feel it. 

No second guessing, no attempting to distract yourself. No picking everything apart to find errors, doubts. 

No fighting to convince yourself you don’t deserve to feel it. 

It spreads from your chest, bright and warm and love and everything. 

His lips brush yours lightly, letting you feel his words. “I love you, tionas.”

Then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him, and every last shred of darkness evaporates from your thoughts until there is nothing but light. 

You only stop when it gets to be too much - not enough - and your panting breaths ghost over warm skin, quivering with an underlying barely-there urge to laugh for no reason - or maybe for the only reason that matters. 

He shifts, a sound of contentment in the back of his throat, and pulls you into him. You bury your nose in his cowl, breathe deep, smooth your hands over his shoulders, biting your lip to keep the laughter contained when your fingers glide over the signet on his pauldron. 

Your signet. 

Your clan. 

His hands trace steady circles on your back as you both come back into yourselves. Time starts up again and a few seconds tick by, your thoughts meandering through everything you had talked about tonight. 

They stick on a memory, and you turn your face into the curve of his neck so he can hear you, keeping your gaze down to avoid accidentally seeing him. “You know what else happened that night, the night you first called me ‘tionas?’”

He kisses the top of your head, groaning softly. “You almost made me lose it and fuck you right there on a storage crate. If the hyperdrive hadn’t blown, I would have.”

A little thrill of arousal warms your core at the memory of his solid form behind you, the hard length of his cock pressing against your ass as you rolled your hips back into it. “Yes, that. But it was also the night I found out about your obsession with HoloNet dramas.”

He sighs heavily. “Mir’sheb.”

“Ah. There’s the line.”

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question 

Ne’kotir - undefeated

Kar’ta - heart 

Aliit - clan, Mandalorian equivalent of family

Mir’sheb - smartass

Other notes:

*takes deep breath* 

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome is the first half of the Mandalorian wedding vows 

*screams into pillow**sobs*

My interpretation of how Mandalorians express romantic love - I know the fandom commonly uses “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” which loosely translates to “I will know you forever” as a Basic equivalent of “I love you” but I haven’t seen it used in official works enough to feel like these two should use it in this fic. Since Mando’a is such a flexible language, I think it makes sense that they would find their own ways to express romantic love, in a way that reflects their specific relationship. Am I overthinking this? Yes. Am I picking and choosing what I want to be “true to the universe” and what I want to play around with? Absolutely. And that’s fanfiction, darling 💋💃

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[stargazedmoony]

Excerpt from a story I’ll never write: “If you were to be written into a story, Black, it would probably be my favourite.”

“Would you ever let me read something of yours, Remus?”

Remus chuckled. “I simply cannot do that, Black. It is too personal.”

Sirius sighed. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“And yet, you still asked me.”

“Because it was worth the try, of course.”

Remus kept his smile to himself by diverging his face toward the sky, where night sparklers were dancing their way through the evening, embracing one another and reflecting their light upon the two Gryffindor boys. Remus couldn’t help but think at that moment that he could probably sit there with Sirius all night long, and he would never get cold or bored or tired—he would be perfectly fine.

Sirius cleared his throat, and by doing so, broke the silence. “Do you think I am worth writing about?” he then asked quietly—or rather, worriedly.

In an act of pure surprise, Remus turned his head. The black-haired boy looked at him with his eyebrows narrowed together in a perfect description of what one would call fragility and insecurity. His eyes were ones of wondering waters.

All Remus could do, was stare into those eyes and drown in the blue, absolutely taken aback by the question.

“Remus? Shall I interpret your silence as consent?”

Remus blinked. “Definitely not! I’m just wondering how you could possibly believe the opposite.”

“How do you mean?”

Remus thought for a moment and then gave it a try. “If you were to be written into a story, Black, it would be the kind that unravels slowly, but tenderly. It would be the kind that is as twisted as it is passionate—as of course, it is about you, and you are about the most self-centred, yet somehow still the most good-natured person I have ever met.”

Sirius shifted. Remus held his breath and then let go of it, having nature’s forces turn air into words. “And it would probably be my favourite story.”

Sirius kept quiet for quite a long time, causing Remus to wonder what was going on inside his mind. Then, Sirius asked, “What makes you say such a thing?”

“I have known you for quite a while now, Black. You just want me to continue talking because it strokes your ego.”

“Or maybe, as you have probably never considered, I just enjoy hearing you talk.”

Remus smiled. Sirius was the only one who could get him to really, really talk. “Prepare to have your ego stroked, then. I don’t mean for anything to sound negative in any kind of way, but you are one of the few people I have ever met with such a twisted story as yours—considering your family, and the kind of bloodline you come from.”

Sirius grunted under his breath; Remus pretended not to notice. Family was a touchy subject for the boy, Remus knew, but knowing Sirius as a brave and proud young man, Remus believed it was important to acknowledge how different Sirius was from his family, and how he should be proud of that.

Remus continued, “It might have made you egotistical and rude, and I hate you for that sometimes, but mostly, I cannot help myself from wanting to be closer to you for it—because you are deserving of the kind of family that will provide you of love and support.”

Suddenly, Remus felt a hand in his—almost like a friendly encouraging push, and so he went on, “I will stick to my first statement, and tell you again that, Sirius Black, if you were to be written into a story, it would most likely be my favourite—the one I would keep on my nightstand, where I can reach for it any time I want, and where I can keep it as close as possibly possible. And so, to answer your question, yes. I do believe you are worth being written about.”

Remus took a deep breath, knowing he had spoken his long-hidden truth. Sirius squeezed his hand, staring blankly up at the stars, and Remus squeezed back and stared at the boy next to him—the boy he was actually so desperately in love with; the boy Remus found was so worthy of writing about that he wrote pages of poetry about him, and for him.  

“You are too kind to me, Remus,” Sirius sighed, turning his head to look Remus in the eye. Softly, he kissed Remus’ knuckles. “And yes, you did stroke my ego.”

Remus laughed, and gripped the boy’s hand a little tighter.

[tartrazeen]

😭💕

Episode idea for the second season that never was: New Best Friend, where Lugad seems to be replacing Rohan as Angus' bestest buddy.

'Cause I know Lugad was supposed to be re-introduced at some point as a sixth Mystic Knight (of Light). And I know how big Rohan is on family - he almost instantly crumbles at the thought of fighting Lugad once he finds out they're brothers.

And I also know Rohan puffs up over people praising him for being the legendary Draganta. This kid is starved for gold star stickers. He loves being told he's doing well.

And I also-also know that he panics and starts acting stupid when he thinks something's wrong in his relationships. With Deirdre and Garrett, that meant inviting himself onto all of their dates. With Lugad, that meant basically being ready to throw down his sword. With Angus, that meant snapping at him instantly with twice as much 'ill-temper' as he accused Angus of having. Same for when people doubt him: he immediately gets shitty at everyone, and it's mostly Angus having to tell him to quit being a dick (which Rohan mostly uhhhhhh ignores to continue his dick-being).

Most importantly, I know Angus and Lugad were on pretty rough terms with each other. That whole "Rohan's betraying Kells" thing - oof, that set him off faster than any time Cathbad's called him a petty little thief.

I also-also-also know that Angus, for all that he jumps into the middle of a fight to protect everyone else, is actually mostly terrified of everything until it's a) something's managed to 'master', or b) something he's turned into a joke.

For the first one, look at how he scared he is of Pyre every time he's gotta go near this dragon, riiiiight up until he realizes that he's not gonna take that shit from Rohan's-asshole-dragon while Rohan's already being an asshole in that episode. A few episodes after that, he's escorting a fear-cursed Rohan to the cave and being like, "just go pet the dragon lol it's not hard" when the curse is making Rohan yelp every time Pyre moves. Later, Angus turns out to actively give Pyre orders and summon him; Pyre = mastered in Angus' books.

But for the second one, look at how Angus'll run around Cathbad's chambers doing whatever tf he wants, 'cause Cathbad's in his mind as 'joke'. Except for when Cathbad gets pissed, and then Angus shuts up right away or starts backpedalling. That's when the joke ends and he suddenly switches to being cowed or cornered or furious.

What that means to me is that when Lugad finally comes back to join the team, Rohan's delighted because his brand-new, long lost brother is here; Deirdre's happy because Lugad was getting along with her; Ivar and Garrett are okay with it because he's proven himself to be on their side now; and Angus is very quiet.

Again, Rohan is huge on family, and he's gone out of his way to call Lugad his brother as soon as those dots got connected in his head. Angus isn't going to come right out and say something negative, but the silence would be deafening and Rohan would never let that rest. At best, Rohan would wait until he could pull Angus a little over to the side (maybe while Lugad is warming up to Ivar and Garrett while watching them spar), and then he'd start insisting on knowing what Angus truly thinks.

Which would be something like, "Uhhhhh your brother is the scariest thing I've ever seen, and how do you know he won't smash us into bits the first chance he gets?"

Rohan gets predictably offended by that, even though Angus was actively trying to avoid giving an opinion in the first place. But Rohan would've dragged it out of him because Rohan wants everyone to be as loudly enthusiastic about anything he's excited about, he takes it personally when Angus gives him that honest answer. Plus the guilt of having called Lugad a monster would probably bubble up in Rohan's mind; he's overcompensating in how he reacts, just as he snapped at all of them in episode 49 (I think) where he's pissed they don't trust him to fight against Lugad after he JUST SPENT EPISODES outright telling he couldn't fight against Lugad.

So Rohan gets pissed, and just when him and Angus are in the middle of their "What are you trying to say? That he's our enemy after he helped us defeat Maeve?" / "Ugh - calm down, Rohan" shtick, Lugad starts sparring with Ivar and Garrett and sends them both flying across the training yard. That perfect timing lets Angus end the squabble by telling Rohan, "I'm saying he doesn't have to be our enemy to hurt us."

The whole first act of the episode would be Rohan angrily venting at everybody else that he can't believe Angus doesn't trust Lugad. Ivar would point out that Lugad did fight with Temra for quite a while. Deirdre would add that Lugad's fairly scary-looking, even if he's sweet, and that they all know Angus gets jumpy around things that look scary. Rohan can't really disagree with those points but he'd brush them off all the same as Angus deliberately refusing to give Lugad another chance.

I'd like to think Garrett (who I truly believes has a bunch of brothers back home, and that's why he's the one being married off in some other kingdom) would say the bond between Rohan and Lugad as brothers is undeniable - but Angus isn't Lugad's brother. The two of them don't have that bond. And whatever it is that led to Rohan and Angus being so inseparable, that's their bond, and Lugad doesn't share it with Angus.

This would be Rohan's terrible source of inspiration to get Angus and Lugad to become friends: Angus loves hijinks and mischief, so if they can get Lugad to go along with that, surely Angus will see how fun and harmless Lugad is. There is officially nothing more important than getting Angus and Lugad on good terms with each other, and it's the sort of enthusiasm they've all seen go badly before, so there's a particular look that Ivar, Deirdre and Garrett share with each other.

It cuts away to Rohan trying to coach Lugad through some of the tricks he and Angus would get up to as children. All of these go terribly wrong - either Angus doesn't even notice them, just happening to miss them playing out, or he sees them being orchestrated by Lugad (with Rohan being out of sight) right before Angus himself gets blamed for whatever happened and being sent to jail. Obviously, this has Angus yelling at Lugad while the guards drag him away.

With all that having blown up in Lugad's (and Rohan's) face, we cut to Lugad talking with Deirdre somewhere else. Deirdre wants to know how the 'bonding' is going, and Lugad slowly says, "Bad." Rohan's been acting strange, Lugad explains, and making him do things almost like it's a trap to make Angus mad at him. That's a legit worry for Lugad, who's been tricked and betrayed so many times already, but Deirdre assures him that that's not what Rohan's trying to do. Angus is as important to Rohan as Lugad is (😒), almost like brothers themselves (🤗), and Rohan just wants the two of them to get along.

Here, Lugad might actually ask if Angus doesn't like him because he thinks Lugad is a monster. I'm assuming that trust and 'only' being half-human would be the two key insecurities this poor guy has. Deirdre, I think, wouldn't lie to him because of how important being trustworthy is to Lugad. She'd gently explain that Angus gets frightened easily - but that Angus also laughs easily, which is why Rohan's been trying to get Lugad to help with various pranks.

Right then is when I want Angus to just appear out of a corner, covered in dust, having freshly escaped from the guards who were taking him away through one of his many secret paths across the castle. After patting off a full cloud of dirt and cobwebs off of himself (going ":3 hi princess" while Deirdre's hacking up a lung lmao), he's like, "Those were supposed to be pranks?! Were they Rohan's ideas? 'Cause he has terrible ideas and those were exactly the kinds of pranks he'd come up with."

That episode with that little prince-kid showed that Angus'll relent and take pity on someone who seems sorry. Lugad actually is sorry, because he knows how much Rohan wants them to get along, but he doesn't like pranks or tricks very much after everything he's been through with Maeve and Nemaine. Angus agrees with that (mostly just happy that Lugad/Rohan's not gonna get him locked in jail again), and thinks for a sec. Then he says, "You wanna go smash some boulders into some trees? :)"

It's such a "Ugh, boys 🙄" thing for Angus to suggest, but Lugad is ecstatic at the prospect. So he leads the way out into the forest, and Angus follows along, maybe giving Deirdre a look like, "Hope he doesn't crush me by mistake. 🙃" And then he's off to go babysit his little brother's little brother ('cause sure, let's call it that lol).

Cut back to Rohan, who can't find Lugad anywhere, and who just came up with a better prank that's sure to get Angus to laugh. But as Aideen flies in to tell him, Lugad and Angus are already off in the forest. They nearly squashed her with their dumb boulders. Rohan's a bit surprised that they'd be off without him, but... well, that's what he wanted, so this is good news.

He goes to the forest to find them, almost gets squashed himself, and walks up to see Angus and Lugad laughing and having a great time. They'd invite him to huck some boulders too, but Rohan's mystic weapon doesn't do that and he doesn't have super-human strength like Lugad does. Rohan shrugs it off, just happy to see them happy, and leaves them to it.

Skip ahead a few days, and Rohan isn't nearly as pleased. Apparently Angus and Lugad are off training somewhere together - even though Angus was the one afraid of Lugad accidentally hurting someone. And why does it have to just be the two of them anyway? Since when does Angus get up so early? Rohan hasn't seen him at all lately - and when he does, Angus is too tired to do more than eat whatever Rohan's purposely saved for him, and then sleep.

I can picture him whining about this to Garrett (probably with Ivar there too), since Rohan would also want to ask if any of Garrett's brothers - since Rohan's new to having a brother - are closer to Garrett's friends than they are to Garrett himself. Real unsubtle pity party. Classic Rohan.

Garrett would break the unfortunate news that while brothers will always have the bond of family, that doesn't inherently mean brothers have to be friends. I'd love if that's when Ivar perks up, saying that he has siblings as well, and two of them wished him luck on his quest by marking his map with all the places they thought he'd fail before he ever retrieved the chalice (he beat them all by making it to Ireland :3). That's why it's good to have friends outside one's immediate family as well.

This is horrible news to Rohan. Unlike Rohan, Angus is very goddamn popular. When they grew up, kids in the village always flocked to him rather than Rohan. No matter how hard he tried, Rohan was always just the 'weird' one - Angus' friend, never worth having his own name. He's never asked Angus what it was that made Rohan seem interesting enough to talk to. He's simply been unquestioningly grateful for it so he didn't run the risk of reminding Angus how little Rohan brought to the table. Now that Rohan's Draganta, it's been different - and more difficult, surprising him. If Angus found an easier friend in Lugad, one who can do dumb things like throw rocks at trees, then where exactly does that leave Rohan?

Ivar and Garrett, who Rohan would've explained this all to, listen patiently before reminding him that was what he wanted: for Angus and Lugad to be friends. It leads Rohan into a true Classic Complaint™ of a cry that, "Yes! Of course! But not best friends!" And with that, Rohan sets off to go find those two, leaving Ivar and Garrett behind to brace themselves for whatever this storm is.

Inevitably, Rohan gets attacked along the way. I assume it's Nemaine and Midar as the big bads at this time? Even though I'm 90% sure they would've had Maeve come back eventually. Anyway, those two could've had a B-plot about how Lugad becoming friends with any of the Mystic Knights undoes the training she'd put him through to suppress his human side. Bad enough that Lugad was so distracted by Deirdre's original kindness, but now he's out in the forest playing with the last of the knights to have truly shown distrust? So whatever creature Rohan runs into, it's made clear that it's on a collision course to attack Lugad and Angus.

He gets knocked to the side, which is enough to convince him to summon his armour. But when he catches up to it again, it's already found Angus and Lugad, and he's not going to intervene in time. He calls out instead, and Lugad spots what's coming their way - and knocks Angus into the air and sailing into the forest to disappear.

Rohan's horrified in-between fighting whatever creature this is. Lugad saying, "Don't worry, he told me I could do that," doesn't do much to reassure him when he knows Angus does not enjoy being thrown around like that (😏). They finish this monster off, and then Rohan sprints into the forest to go find his friend.

... who he finds under a massive pile of leaves.

Rohan asks why all the leaves are down, since it's too early in the year for them to fall. But Angus - spitting those leaves out - says it was for their new training space. Rohan looks around to find massive piles of leaves built up everywhere around them, presumably from all those trees they cleared out of the area.

"Now when he hits us across the island, we have a better cushion to land on," Angus explains. "We even made padding for him too, so he doesn't hit as hard."

I know Lugad has a helmet or whatever, but I think it'd be cute to have him proudly showing off whatever padded cushion they've made together and strapped to Lugad's arms.

Rohan asks if this stuff really works.

"It's helping," Angus says, climbing out of the leaf pile and looking incredibly sore. "But I'm gonna need more leaves."

Lugad's delighted to have a reason to explode more trees with boulders ("BUT WATCH WHERE YOU THROW THEM, LUGAD" / "ok angus :3") and runs off, leaving Rohan and Angus together. After the unusual silence between them, Angus asks what Rohan's doing here anyway. Rohan tries mumbling something about passing through, then eventually admits that he was looking for Angus. It's a perfect opportunity for a callback to when Rohan was ignoring everyone to focus on Pyre, and he seizes that opportunity to say, "You were missing me, huh? :P"

Except that Rohan freely confesses that yes, he was. He's happy that Angus isn't scared of Lugad anymore ("LUGAD, I DON'T HAVE MY ARMOUR" / "sorry angus :3") but he hasn't seen Angus in days, and it's back to feeling like when they were kids. Angus agrees with that, because "If I remember anything from back then, it was you getting me into trouble over your 'pranks'."

Rohan can frown and protest, "You liked my pranks!"

"You'd get lucky with some -" Angus is gonna talk right over Rohan's attempt to interrupt. "- but mostly, I liked spending time with you. We didn't need pranks for that."

Rohan would reply a little sombrely, like that question about why Angus even talked to him as kids is on his mind again. He'd start to say something like, "I wish you'd told me then. It would've saved me from having to come up with so many ideas."

"And it would've saved me from even more nights in jail," Angus says. "But you'd always visit, and that was the best part of being there."

I think Rohan - legendary warrior or not - would chicken out at that, and decide not to ask Angus his real question. And Angus would notice his friend sinking into his thoughts, and put a hand out on Rohan's shoulder.

"For what it's worth," Angus tells him, "some of those pranks were brilliant. Even when you got caught me."

It's familiar territory. It gets Rohan to smile and hit back with, "I thought you were some great thief who could run away?"

"I was - which is what the guards I was escaping would learn, right up until I ran into your 'pranks'."

The good mood would be added onto by Lugad bursting back into their clearing holding a whole-ass tree, proudly declaring he found some great leaves for Angus to get knocked into. Angus would propose they go off to find more leaves than that - enough to make enough padding to cover himself in cushions, since clearly the leaf piles aren't enough. Lugad goes running back into the forest, and Angus - after one more clap of his hand on Rohan's shoulder to make sure Rohan's alright - walks after him.

Aideen will, of course, flap down to see what Rohan thinks. For his part, he'll say, "Everyone was right: this is what I wanted. And I'm glad to have it. Angus is too good of a friend to keep him just for myself, and I know what it's like to be alone in Kells. Lugad needs him right now."

Aideen would merrily coo that Rohan learned a wise lesson, and that maybe Rohan wasn't the only one alone when they were growing up. Maybe Angus was alone more than they knew, and maybe those visits Rohan paid to him meant even more than that.

I see Rohan giving a noncommittal smile, like he isn't going to argue but also doesn't fully agree. He just says, "Maybe I'll ask him someday. Or maybe it's enough to know that he likes me for whatever reason he has, and simply appreciate that I'm not the friend he's throwing boulders at."

Which should be just in time for the credits to roll and for us to hear from off-screen, "THE BOULDERS!!"

And an equally off-screen, "sorry lugad :3"

[just-absolutely-super]

Lan one day complains of slight joint pains, and Megaman goes off kinda. This is Lans first health problem due to aging, and Megaman gets hit with the fact Lan is gonna be gone one day. Lan hasn't even had a mid life crisis yet.

So Megaman starts to hover over him a lot, and re-reads Lans health journal and books a doctor appointment for a check up.

He wants Lan to be the healthiest he can be, but for some reason he wasn't prepared Lan getting older and his body won't be able to keep up with him and his shenanigans.

How could he not see this coming???

I’m so sorry, you meant for this to be a humorous ask and yet I went and did this

---

It starts with an off-handed complaint of a sore back.

Lan waves off the initial concern, saying he just strained it too hard trying to move some furniture around at the house.

Megaman believes him at first, the human back was fragile after all. But he still fusses and tells Lan to apply good lifting techniques.

But then Lan gets a couple of years older and soon he starts making remarks about how one of his knees hurt.

“It pops a lot and sometimes it gets sore.” He comments to Mayl one day at breakfast.

“You might have overdone it running or skating.”

“Maybe…”

It’s a very nonchalant conversation, one Megaman shouldn’t pay much attention to, and yet he can’t stop the anxiety that was climbing into his being.

Lan is getting older…

Since puberty the twins’ father has tried to make sure Megaman kept up with Lan milestone-wise. Modifications were made to give Megaman a body fitting for a teenager and then eventually an adult.

It was great at the beginning. It felt like they were actually growing up together.

But now here they are in the present with Lan complaining of aches and pains Megaman will never feel.

It put a dark cloud over the Navi because it brings hard truths he’s been avoiding for as long as he could.

Megaman may have promised he’d be with Lan forever, but forever isn’t something Lan’s humanity can guarantee.

He starts buckling down about Lan’s health and care afterwards. No more junk food, he needs to incorporate more healthy snacks in his diet. His exercise regime was great, but he needs to stop being reckless. Lan isn’t that same 12 year old who would perform crazy stunts in the name of world saving. Anything Megaman deems unfit for Lan’s aging body would be terminated.

Lan initially doesn’t mind. Megaman is always looking out for his health. But his concern soon starts to feel more like an obsession and the younger brother feels it’s time to speak up.

“As much as I like added fiber to my diet, I feel like you’re overdoing it with the meal planning.” Lan jokingly says as he jacks Megaman into his copybot so he can converse with him better. “And did you seriously sign me up for an aerobics class?”

Now more comfortable in his copybot, Megaman looks to his twin sheepishly, “I thought aerobics would be a more age-appropriate activity for you than the skating.”

“Age-appropriate? Megaman I’m 30, not 60!”

“I know,” Megaman defends himself, “but it wouldn’t hurt to start taking care of your body better. You won’t be young forever you know…”

Lan is quiet for a while, letting those words sink in. It suddenly clicks in his head what his Navi—no, his brother--is really saying to him.

Sighing, he moves to better sit beside Megaman and throws his arm over his shoulder in a half hug.

“Hub, you know I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, right?”

Megaman lowers his gaze, his green eyes watering at the use of his real name.

“Lan...you know as well as I do how short life can really be. If I can find ways to prolong our time together, then I will.”

Lan tries meeting his brother’s eyes, an encouraging smile on his face, “I know you will, and I appreciate that; but you remember what the doc said at my last physical that you forced me to go to: I’m as fit and healthy as a horse! All my blood tests are negative. Sure my back aches whenever I try to move Mayl’s piano across the room for the 5th time in a year, and maybe my knees pop more than usual, but that’s just part of getting older. Other than that, my form is just as good as when I was 20!”

Megaman is quiet for a while. Realistically speaking, Lan is right. He really is much healthier than most adults. If anyone could live a long life, it’s him.

But still...

Despite still having hang ups about his twin getting older, Megaman swallows those feelings in favor of managing to return Lan’s smile.

“Yeah...I know. I shouldn’t worry too much, but I can’t help it.”

Feeling satisfied, Lan pats Megaman on the head, ignoring his older brother’s pout, “I know you can’t. You wouldn’t be my annoying, mother hen of a brother otherwise.”

Megaman gasps in offense, “Annoying?! Here I am wanting the best for you, and you call me annoying? How rude!”

Lan laughs, sticking his tongue out at Megaman, “It’s true though!”

Megaman rolls his eyes at his brother’s behavior, “Sticking your tongue out at me now? Your body may be older but you definitely haven’t matured at all!”

As the two bicker and banter, the previous conversation is forgotten. Though not completely, as each year goes by, Lan’s mortality would forever be a grim reminder for Megaman.

It’s difficult, but he will try not to let it consume him.

Because the thought of facing a life without Lan will kill him a second time...

[banti-virani]

Introducing Banti Virani!

Name: Banti Sanam Virani

Age: 29

Birthday: April 6th, 1993

Residence: Maple Hills

TW: Death, drugs

Education: High school diploma, some college credits

Occupation: Massage Therapist at Mount Ashton Lodge

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/they

Sexuality: Bisexual

FC:

Hair color: Brunet

Eye color: Brown

Height: 5′7″

Build: Slim

Accent: American

Languages: English, Gujarati, Spanish

Scent: Lavender

Tattoos: Raven on his left arm

Piercings: Both ears, nose stud

Zodiac: Aries

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Love Language: TBD

Clothing: sweaters, beanies, baggy pants, sneakers

Hair style: Medium length, slightly curly

Conditions: Anxiety

Allergies: Bees

Eating habits: Pescatarian

Exercise habits: Yoga

Sleep habits: night owl, light sleeper, 5-7 hours nightly

Addictions: Nicotine

Positive traits: Reliable, calm, logical

Negative traits: Stubborn, moody, apathetic

Phobias:  Acrophobia (fear of heights)

Fears: Losing Ashi

Hobbies: Gardening, photography, video games

Habits: Vaping, staying up too late, 

Demeanor: Laidback, quiet

FATHER : Divamani Virani (deceased), tbd (stepfather) 

MOTHER : Chandra Chazen (mother) 

SIBLINGS : Ashi Hussan (twin), Noa Chazen (half-sibling) 

PARTNERS : TBD (ex-boyfriend), TBD (former fiancé)

CHILDREN : None 

PETS : Shiloh (Siberian cat)

BIOGRAPHY

If asked, Banti would say that he had a pretty normal childhood for the most part. He remembers honoring his heritage and spending a lot of time with his parents and his twin sister. He always considered himself more of a loner, opting to sit back and watch things play out when he could help it, eventually figuring out that he had some social anxiety. Despite this, he fondly remembers all of the time that he spent with his family, whether they were going to worship and celebrate or if they were just hanging out at the house.

Eventually, however, everything suddenly shifted. It was just like any other day, he stayed at home and played with his toys instead of going into his father’s office. He’ll never forget the anguish in his mother’s voice when she got the news, that his father had passed away in a car accident. It was incredibly heavy, worrying that Ashi had been hurt and kicking himself for not being there, for not spending those last precious moments with his father. For Banti, it felt like time had stopped, he felt mentally checked out of most things. All he can remember from the months after the accident was crying with his mother and Ashi.

Again, everything turned upside down in the blink of an eye. He didn’t feel motivated to do well in school, but he took every opportunity he could to keep his mind busy. Banti didn’t want to sit with those awful thoughts in his head. The next thing he knew, they moved to New York and then suddenly his mother was getting involved with the grief counselor. It felt so fast, suddenly the two were married and they went to live with him and his daughter. He didn’t get along with his step-sister, mostly because Ashi didn’t like her and he’d support his twin over anyone else, easily.

The teenage years were even rougher, Banti felt even more cooped up in his shell than ever. He didn’t make attempts to socialize, he fell behind on his classwork, he argued with his step-father a lot. He even got into smoking pot, more so because he was looking for an escape from all of the bullshit he saw in his daily life. The night of his 18th, Ashi left. It was a big deal, it was something he’d considered before but had never actually had the guts to see through. He respected her, but he resented her too, for leaving him behind. Suddenly everything felt rocky again, Banti nearly dropped out of high school. He ended up working a shitty job at the Maple Hills Mall's movie theatre just to have that extra time outside of the house.

Slowly, he pulled it back together. He graduated high school and finally left home to be on his own, he wanted to go out and see the world. Banti had enough money from the jobs in high school to travel. He hitchhiked and used the public transport system to get around the states, working and settling in places here and there to make ends meet. He had a pretty serious relationship while on the road, he found some solace in a travel partner. Things weren’t always easy and they did get into more drugs than just pot, but he thought they could make it work. Banti got engaged to this guy, eager to actually start a life with someone, but of course it was too good to be true. One night after doing their laundry, he came home to find his fiancé in bed with another man. It shook him to his core and he immediately ended things. The traveling lifestyle lost its sparkle.

He did keep contact with his sister and mother, but he didn’t care too much about speaking to the rest of his family. After a while, he was ready to get on with his life again. He moved back to East Haven and applied to the local college, but he only managed to get through the general classes before he dropped out. It was nice, to be close to Ashi again, and he was happy that she seemed to be in a better place as well. He ended up getting certified as a massage therapist and found himself a job at the Lodge, where his sister ironically works as well. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future, but he knows that he wants his sister at his side.

[mimi-cee-hq]

A Genuine Mess - Atsumu x f!reader

Pairing: Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: Atsumu insults you, the quietest girl in his class. But as he gets to know you, your few words often leave him blushing.

Genre, etc.: Tooth rotting fluff, Atsumu is a dork in love but still consistent with his canon character, reader is quiet but not timid

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: I wanted to try a different personality for the reader as well as taking one of Atsumu's negative character traits and flipping it on its head :) This was fun to write. Hehehe.

Words: 1.9k

*****

"What? She's here for me?" said Atsumu. He pressed his lips together to hide the smile forming on his lips. As he attempted to walk to the gym doors as normally as possible, Aran tilted his head while Osamu wore an amusing smirk.

Atsumu leaned on the frame of the gym doors. "What'd ya want?" he asked you, trying to be as smooth as possible. His voice didn't reveal his usual arrogance and was unexpectedly gentle.

"Could I see your hand?" you asked him with a quiet but direct tone.

When he held his hand out in front of you, you delicately turned it over, palm faced down, and positioned his fingers one by one. You didn't notice him gripping the side of his jersey in his other hand, trying to keep it together every time your fingers grazed his skin. You let go of his hand to pull out your phone and angled it to get a good shot of his hand.

Click.

"Thank you Atsumu-san," you told him, putting your phone away and leaving the gym.

Atsumu returned to the court, not even able to hide the childish grin from his teammates anymore. Some widened their eyes and others dropped their jaws as they witnessed the entire scene.

"So when did you start liking her?" Suna asked him.

"I don't like her," Atsumu adamantly responded.

A laugh escaped Osamu's lips and Atsumu told him to shut up. He hated that his twin knew exactly why he was acting like this.

*****

"Well that looks ugly."

Seated at your desk, you looked up from your sketch to see Atsumu's scrunched up nose. It didn't take long for it to disappear. Osamu whacked him on the head for insulting the quietest girl in class two and quite possibly their whole year.

"Sorry about this jerk," Osamu told you. "He doesn't have a filter."

But when he started to drag Atsumu away from you, they heard the rare sound of your voice.

"Miya-san," you said.

They both turned around but after looking at each other, they assumed you were referring to your classmate Atsumu.

"Why does it look ugly?"

"Ha?" Atsumu gawked at you. He scratched the back of his head. "I dunno. The shoulders just looked gross"–he got whacked on the head again–"Hey!" He glared at Osamu.

After they bickered for a bit, they turned their attention back to you, but you were already facing your desk, immersed in your sketch. Osamu raised an eyebrow at Atsumu, expecting him to know what that was all about, but he only shrugged his shoulders, not having a clue either.

The next time Atsumu heard your voice was when you came to see him at his desk.

"Ha? What's this?" he asked.

In front of him, you had placed another sketch. You didn't say a word but looked at him as if you were expecting some sort of comment.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow but looked at the sketch anyway.

"What's wrong with this dude's hand?" he asked as he squinted at the drawing, holding your sketchbook up to his eyes. "It looks like it's dislocated or something."

The classmate beside him shot his eyes open. He then looked up at you to see your reaction.

"Thank you," you told Atsumu with a little nod before returning to your desk. Those were the only words you had for Atsumu and they had left him and his classmate speechless.

Atsumu's eyes lit up the third time you came to his desk.

"Which one looks the worst?" you asked him, showing him three different sketches.

"This one," he said, pointing to the one in the middle. "There's no way a person could have hair like that."

You ignored his comment and asked him again which one looked worse. He still chose the middle one, saying the expression reminded him too much of his brother.

You gave him a nod as thanks and as he watched you return to your desk, there was a small uptick at the corner of his mouth, gazing at you gathering your pencils together and continuing your progress.

Over the next couple of weeks, he watched you from afar as you drew doodles during class when you should've been paying attention. He wondered if he should actually write notes from the lesson in case you needed them. Maybe he'd pass them to you the next time you showed him your artwork.

But you hadn't made a trip to his desk during the next two weeks. Why did you stop coming? So when you left the classroom, he quickly opened the sketchbook that was left on your desk and went through it page by page, curious to see what you'd been drawing this whole time. As he flipped through the pages, he saw how your drawings had gradually improved. He couldn't help but smile at your growth as an artist.

"Miya-san."

He jumped at your voice and snapped the book shut. He fumbled over his words. "I wasn't looking! It just fell and I picked it up from the ground!" he told you. "When I put it back on yer desk it just happened t' be like that!"

He then saw an expression he had never seen on your face. Your brows were furrowed and your lips turned into a frown. You let out a deep breath. "Miya-san, you're free to look through my sketchbook, but please don't lie to me."

His eyes widened before he lowered them to stare at the classroom floor. Shoulders sagging, he told you in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry." He sighed and dragged his feet back towards his desk. But just when he was about to pull out his chair, he heard your soft voice.

"Miya-san," you said, looking directly at him when he turned to you. "Like I said, you can come and look at it whenever you want."

Atsumu pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a stupid grin on his face. But his eyes betrayed his attempt as they crinkled and turned into crescents, elated at your offer.

*****

Over the next several weeks, Atsumu used any excuse he could to chat with you at your desk before he finally settled on talking to you about anything and everything. He tried to get to know you, asking you questions, but your answers were short and simple, not knowing how else to respond.

However, Atsumu shamelessly continued to talk about himself, his brother, the team, and whatever else was on his mind that day. You always nodded and listened with a smile.

"I think she's just being nice to you," commented Osamu.

"She's never stopped me," Atsumu replied with a huff, crossing his arms, which only resulted in Osamu shaking his head.

Without looking up from your sketch, you told him, "I like hearing him talk."

Osamu's eyes grew at your response but when he glanced over at his twin, Atsumu's ears and cheeks had turned red.

"Oh?" the silver haired twin said with a sly grin. "You're blushing 'Tsumu."

"No I'm not!" Atsumu said after clearing his throat and turning his head away. Osamu was about to tease him when instead, you said something that deepened his blush.

"It's cute."

Osamu's jaw dropped. Atsumu froze at your comment before deciding to put his face down on your desk, burying it into his arms.

As you and Atsumu got to know each other, he learned that you were still close with your friends from middle school. They were there for you, always supporting you and your passion for art. But when you asked them what they thought about your drawings, they had always said they looked good. You were grateful for them but you couldn't tell if they were just being nice.

"So is that why you asked me about yer drawings?" Atsumu noted. You confirmed it with a nod and he looked at you with longing eyes and a soft smile.

You caught him off-guard when you took a photo of him. "Your expression was interesting just now," you told him. "I want to use it as reference."

Atsumu blushed and covered the lower half of his face. He muttered something through his hands that you didn't quite catch.

"Hm?" you asked.

"Y-you can use me as reference any time."

You took him up on his offer. You'd often snap pictures of him, casually pulling out your phone when you'd find an interesting expression on his face. You even came to see him at practice when you wanted to practice drawing some hands. He often wondered what you noticed about him when you used him as reference, what expressions you saw in him.

One day after classes had ended and volleyball practice was cancelled, he sat at the other side of your desk as you switched to a different drawing pencil from your set. What did you see when you looked at him? His eyes? His nose? His lips?

His hand rose next to your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. When you looked up at him from your drawing, he pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing what he was doing.

He bit his lip, scolding himself for doing that to you. You called his name and his attention was back on you.

"Why did you stop?" you asked.

Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, not at all expecting those words. Looking at you through his eyelashes, he saw you directly looking back at him. Were you serious?

Somehow getting the courage to make a move, he drew his hand toward you and gently cupped your cheek. He bent over your desk and brought his lips near yours, stopping midway as if waiting for permission to follow through. You leaned in a little closer and he closed the gap, feeling your soft lips against his.

Pulling back, his eyes studied your face for some sort of reaction. He bit his lip, doubting if that was what you wanted. Perhaps he didn't do a good job or you had changed your mind after the kiss.

What if you were just doing this for reference?

He searched your eyes for an answer, not knowing that you saw the insecurity in his.

"I liked it, Atsumu."

His eyes grew. He was both delighted and flustered, not believing that he got to kiss you, that you'd accept a kiss from someone like him. He hugged you and placed a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

*****

"Guys! I have a girlfriend!" Atsumu declared, storming into the gym the next day. They all raised their brows when they saw who was holding his hand.

"Are you serious?" asked Aran.

"It's probably fake," Suna commented.

"He must have bribed her or something," Osamu added.

"All of ya just shut up!" Atsumu yelled at them as they all gave him a skeptical look. He sighed and dropped his shoulders as he held your hand.

They snickered and teased him, but when there was a silent pause in the air, they heard your voice for the first time.

"I like him," you told his team. Your voice was quiet but they heard every word. They freaked out, gawking at the two of you, an unlikely pair.

Atsumu turned his face away because his cheeks went red again. Your words, more often than not, caused him to be up in a fluster.

*****

I hope you enjoyed it.

I couldn't help but have Suna say it was fake for all my "A Glimpse of Yellow" readers. lolll.

If you liked this one, you might like one of these:

1) my Tendou one-shot (timid!reader)

2) my Sakusa one-shot (where he gets a crush on exchange student!reader)

3) my Kyoutani one-shot (another unexpected pairing)

And I want to shamelessly throw in my Suna chaptered fic (fake dating) just because it's my current series. lol.

I also have a Google form for my taglist if any of you are interested in it.

[sugarbooger513]

JJK Men x Insecure chubby Fem!reader

Today has been hard to think of myself positively, and I have friends who struggle with the same thing, so I thought I could indulge some people with some very loved characters reminding us that, no matter our size, we're perfect.

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami

Warnings: Insecurities, body dysphoria, Toji's gets spicy (sue me), suggestive at the end of Nanami's, tooth rotting fluff.

Satoru Gojo

- Let's be completely honest here, this man rarely feels insecure, if he ever does.

- He wouldn't be able to sympathize, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. In fact, it makes him care a lot more.

- His comfort methods aren't for everyone either, so be prepared. He's trying, give him that.

- Humor. That's what this man knows. Iykyk, this man deflects any form of trauma with his humor.

- If he notices it isn't working, then he'll come up with something else because he loves you. That love tells him that he has to try.

"Oh sweetie pie, I'm home!" Satoru's voice carries easily through the house, but you can't seem to care at the moment. Your cheeks still feel somewhat sticky from the tears that have fallen the past thirty minutes.

"Honey bun? I said I-" His voice cuts off, and you know you're caught. The bed shifts where your boyfriend lowers himself beside you. "Y/N, why are you crying?"

"I-I don't want to talk about it, Satoru." He removes his blindfold with a small chuckle. "Did your favorite anime character die?" "No." "You sure? You tend to sob when-" "I said I don't want to talk about it."

He freezes at the way you lash out at him. Yeah, something is actually wrong.

"Love," his voice softens in a way that shows how worried he is, "is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?" You're quiet for a minute, but you eventually scoot closer to him.

"You want me to hold you?" All you manage is a nod before more tears slide down your cheeks. His long arms encase you securely against him. "I can do that as long as you need. I'm here for you, Y/N."

The two of you stay like that, you crying softly into his uniform while he runs his hand up and down your back.

Eventually, your sobs turn into small sniffles, and you finally speak. "I.. I'm sorry for snapping at your earlier, Sato." He smiles at the loving nickname. "No, baby, I'm sorry for joking around. You wanna talk about it now?"

"I just... I was thinking about.. how many girls looks so much better than I do." He scoffs. "You're kidding, right?" "Sato.." "No, I mean that. It isn't a joke. Baby, we've been through this since day one. I. Want. You."

You hide your now blushing face against his chest. "But.. I just don't understand.." "Look at me, baby." When you do, his bright blue eyes seem to shimmer. "You're the love of my life. You're gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, and every other synonym to those that I'll have to get Nanami to teach me because I will remind you everyday until it gets through your thick ass skull."

His hand comes up to rest on your chubby cheek, where he starts to wipe away the drying tears. "I. Love. You. So. Freaking. Much. Y/N." Each word is punctuated with a kiss on a different part of your face, until he eventually meets your lips.

The small giggles you let out makes him smile. "There's that beautiful laugh! Come on, why don't I pop some popcorn and we go watch whatever you want on the TV?" Your shit eating grin makes him snort a bit of laughter. "Even if it ends in a favorite character dying?"

"I don't mind having to hold you a bit longer."

Toji Fushiguro

- This is also someone I don't think can really empathize with you and your insecurities.

- However, when this man falls he falls HARD

- He will do anything in his power to make you feel better.

- Well

- Anything he can do while still seeming nonchalant about it

- Lets talk about how this man would take matters into his own hands, with his own hands, to make sure you know how loved you are. (You couldn't have expected just fluff with him, give me a break y'all.)

"Y/N," Toji kicks his shoes off carelessly at the door, "I'm home." He raises a confused eyebrow when he looks around the house. Plates from your movie night yesterday lay strewn about the coffee table, still.

'She never leaves dishes out. That's weird.'

He starts to walk around the house, worry filling his chest. It just isn't like you to leave a mess, or to not greet him at the door. There's no way someone came and did something to you, right? No one is THAT dumb, surely.

When he hears the small sniffles coming from your shared bedroom, he breathes a small sigh of relief. "Y/N? I'm coming in." He pushes the bedroom door open to see you cuddling his pillow while laying on your side.

His eyes widen at the sight of your body trembling from the small sobs. "Y/N?" He walks around the bed to kneel in front of you. "What happened?"

"N-Nothing Toji. Sorry, I-I know the house is a w-wreck." "Shut up about the damn house. I don't care. Why are you crying?"

You finally sit up, which lets him sit beside you on the bed. "I just.. Bad day." "Who do I need to stab?" "T-Toji?! You can't solve everything by stabbing!" He shrugs a bit. "You can try."

He smiles sweetly when you slap his arm. "That isn't funny." "Hmmm, but it made your cheeks flush." "Toji Fushiguro!" "Alright, alright. You wanna tell me what's wrong now?"

"I just.. looked in a mirror for too long, babe. Don't worry about-" "I'm lost. What do you mean you looked in one for too long?" You sigh, knowing he hates vague answers.

"My body is disgusting me today, Toji." He scrunches his eyebrows and leans in a bit closer to you. Your face heats up from the slight glare in his eyes.

"Looks the same to me." "Toji, I-" "Correct yourself." His already deep voice seems to drop even lower. Your entire body trembles. "S-Sir."

"Good girl. Now, let me get this straight. You don't think you're attractive." You shake your head, suddenly feeling the tears come back to your eyes. "Why not?" "J-Just.. my body.. it isn't.." "Skinny?" The word hurts your heart, but you nod, knowing he expects some sort of answer.

"So? You're exactly what I need, Y/N." You glance up to meet his loving gaze. "N-need?" "Don't play dumb. You know I need you. Now, we have to fix those insecurities."

He stands, offering his hand out to you. When you take it, he pulls you to your feet.

"Now," he groans as he lays back down on the bed, "I've had a tiring day at work. I want you to strip and come take a seat." "A-a seat?" His smirk tells you what you need to know before he elaborates. "I AM rather starved. Come on, I'm pretty impatient."

"To-Sir, I'm too.." "Heavy? Try again. You aren't getting out of this." He snaps his fingers, and the sound runs deep into your core. His eyes watch you hungrily as you start to get out of your pants.

"Now, for every one of your orgasms, I want to hear 'I'm Toji's pretty princess.' Understand?" "Y-yes sir."

You have no idea what posses you, but you finally let out you own witty comment. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

"You cheeky brat, don't worry. I have plans for your meal."

Hope you don't mind being hoarse for a while. You had to repeat just how pretty you were a number of times.

Choso Kamo

- SWEETEST MOTHER FUCKER I SWEAR

- He doesn't see a single flaw in you, honestly.

- Plus, he doesn't really understand beauty standards. All he knows is he loves every inch of you.

- Nothing goes unloved by this big ass baby.

- You crying would probably bring him to tears because he feeds off your emotion.

- But there is no doubt this man will do anything and everything to see your smile again.

- A true king who just wants his queen as happy as she makes him.

He left you for maybe an hour. Maybe. Choso just had to run and pick up a movie from Yuji.

"Angel, Yuji said that we have to-" He drops the movie the instant he sees tears in your eyes. "L-love? What happened?"

He rushes to your side and wastes no time wrapping you in his strong embrace. Your hands grip his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer.

"What happened? Do you need something? A doctor?" His eyes are scanning your body for any signs of pain. His hands running gently over your back, arm, sides, but everything seems normal.

"I-I'm okay, Cho." "No, you aren't. Please, angel, don't lie to me." His own eyes start to fill with tears, but he tries to will them away. He knows he shouldn't be crying, but seeing you in any pain hurts him just as much.

"Cho, I just.. It's stupid." His large hands cup your face so you're forced to meet his eyes. "Nothing that makes you cry is stupid. Absolutely nothing, my love."

"I.. I tried to put on a hoodie of yours because I was cold." He blinks in confusion. "Was.. was it dirty?" "No I.. I stretched it out.." he tilts his head.

"Is that all?" You nod, but even more tears come to your eyes. "I just hate how big I am.. I thought you would find it cute to come home and see me in your clothes but.. I just messed them up.." He stands, suddenly walking into the kitchen. "C-Cho?"

"I bought some of your favorite ice cream. You know, the kind you always crave on your period. I figure we can cuddle and you can enjoy it while we watch a movie."

"I- I don't really want anything to eat." He smiles, still grabbing it and a spoon. "I know, but just in case. Listen," he places the carton on the table next to you, "you're gorgeous. Every part of you just screams beauty. Nothing could ever change that. Not your size, not you stretching out a stupid hoodie, not you crying, nothing."

He opens the carton, only to get a spoonful out and kneel in front of you. "Open up, angel." You do as he says and allow him to feed you the ice cream. You can't help but smile as you eat it.

His index finger wipes a few old tears from your cheeks. "There's that smile I love. Now, I think we need a movie and some cuddles. How does that sound?" You can only nod, absolutely floored by how much Choso truly loves you.

No more negative thoughts came to your mind while you laid against his chest. He even took a few times to feed you more ice cream throughout the movie.

Oh yeah, he totally bought new hoodies in a bigger size so you could wear them around the house without fear of stretching them.

Kento Nanami

- KING ENERGY

- You can't tell me this man doesn't want someone who acts as his pillow. Come on.

- That being said, Nanami knows how it is to be insecure.

- Whether it's over body insecurity or not, that can be argued either way. Still, insecurities aren't something he's ignorant about.

- On days where you can't seem to like your body, he'll do whatever you need.

- Need to be alone? No problem. Need someone to talk to you? Covered. Just need to be told you're loved? He'll tell you as many times as it takes.

- However, he can't help but be blunt. That's just who he is.

- He does it out of love for you, though. He never wants you to believe something that isn't true.

It's really hard for you and Nanami to get the same day off of work, and today was no different. Since you were the one working today, Nanami decided to take up cleaning the house and preparing dinner. He would also insist on doing the dishes, but he knew better. You never allow him to do all of the work.

He watched the clock hit five thirty and smiled. No doubt, that was your car he heard pull into the driveway. Now that you were home, he could surprise you by telling you that he managed to get the next five days off, which matched your schedule.

The front door opens, and he's quick to call out a "Welcome home, dear. Dinner will be done soon." He turns his body, preparing to catch you in his embrace as usual. However, all that happens is you call back, "Thanks, Ken."

His eyebrows furrow, and he quickly takes dinner off the stove so he can go check on you. He's not one to forget anniversaries or anything like that, so his mind is going through any possible reason you just called him Ken.

"Bad day at work, dear?" He wipes his hand on his apron as he comes around the corner. You were already sitting on the couch, eyes on your phone. "Yeah, I guess." "Okay," he sighs and sits beside you, "would you like to talk about it?" When you finally look at him, his eyes widen. Your eyes are puffy, as if you had been crying.

"Y/N.." "It's just coworker drama, Ken, don't worry too much about it." He scrunches his face. Those women you work with always pissed him off. He's noticed them staring at him whenever he brings you lunch. "Well, humor me a bit. What happened today?"

He just knows you can't resist gossiping with him after a work day. "I-I don't want to repeat it, Ken." The worried look in his eyes makes you whimper. "What?"

"I'm not used to you calling me 'Ken' at home." "Sorry, honey. It's nothing you did." He smiles softly and reaches to cup one of your cheeks in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" You do. God, you do because you know you'll cry again and he'll be here to hold you through it.

"They started talking about you." "Me?" "Yeah," you look at your hands, already feeling your chest tighten, "and started laughing at how you're.. settling for someone who is as big as I am.."

Nanami's soft looks suddenly turns harsh. How dare they say stuff like that? What's worse is he's sure they knew you could hear them!

"Really?" When you nod, a tear falls onto your lap. "It just.. really hurt knowing that I'm not the only one who thinks that." "Y/N.." He pulls you into a hug with a soft sigh.

"Don't think like that. Dear, if I wanted anything different than what I have now, you would know it." You sigh and cuddle into his warm embrace. "I know, but-" "But nothing, my love. I love you, only you, forever you. Do you understand?" You glance up and he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah.. I love you too, Kento." "I have an idea." "Uh huh?" His smirk has you worried. "Well, we both have the next five days off.." "We do?!"

The excitement in your voice has him chuckling. "There's my pretty laugh. Yes, we do. I'm thinking on your first day back.. you go in with a ring on your finger."

You blink in confusion. "K-Kento, you don't-" "Oh I do. Am I the person to joke about wanting to marry you?" Your eyes start to fill, yet again, with tears. However, these tears make Nanami also tear up a bit.

"Are you... asking..?" "I have a ring just for you in my suit jacket, Y/N. Just say you'll marry me." He isn't really expecting you to jump on him, so when you do, he falls from the couch to the floor. "You know I'll marry you, Ken!"

The two of you share a long kiss, complete with tears and laughter. "Well, now that that's decided. I think we should get a head start on something." "What would that be?"

He stands before securing you in his arms bridal style. "The Prehoneymoon." "That isn't a thing, honey." He smirks before playfully smacking your ass. "For you, Mrs. Nanami, anything is possible."

@katgalle @savonline

[mailboxmerchant]

BAD DAY

tldr:naib is mfin horny after a match wit u bae n ur both in love with esch other and equally needy but dont knoe‼️

character: Naib Subedar - mercenary

fandom: identity V

warnings: SEX!!! who could have guessed, also rough/dom naib, swearing, power bottom(lmao)/fem reader, perhaps some masochistic type a stuff but not crazy, less goooooooo

(this is like. just horny. no thoughts. only horny)

As sweat beaded down his forehead, you watched Naib angrily smash the keys of a decoding machine. Something was up, but your teammate just never seemed to let on when something had gone wrong. This match was going fine, you had three more ciphers to go, and everyone was still up and going, only two of your teammates being injured. The hunter was struggling to find any of you, and with each of you teamed up with another to decode, you were all feeling confident in a victory to the survivors. So why was Naib so stressed?

“Hey, Naib?”

 “What, y/n?” 

His tone was sharp, and he snapped back instantly. Someone was clearly cranky. What did you even do?

“Are you...feeling okay? You seem...tense.” You kept your tone neutral, preventing there to be any negativity for him to react to. Before he snapped back, he missed a calibration and alerted the hunter of our position. Still not talking, Naib wrapped a braced arm around your waist and made a dive into a pile of cardboard boxes and other various recyclables. “Shut it, y/n. Hunter’s comin’.” 

You went quiet, but still, his commanding attitude could be done without.  You squirmed in Naib’s grip, at which he grunted, and tightened his hold on you. 

He was started to really make you worry. Naib was usually a calm, collected rescuer, who often would be more reassuring when you were being hunted. You promised you’d figure all this out, just maybe after the match ended. 

The danger passed, quite literally, as Hell Ember jaunted around the trash pile you were hiding in. Naib’s grip got even tighter around you as the hunter loomed closer.  “N-Naib, I can’t-” Naib didn’t seem to give a damn for what you had to say as he slapped a hand over your mouth. “I said, quiet.” His tone was worsening, he was really pissed, huh?

You couldn’t deny yourself though, hearing him sound so stern and having him grab at you so suddenly really threw you off. Your ever-so-secret crush on Naib was keeping you from feeling angry about any of this, in fact, you were almost happy to be so close, even if he was being rude. 

Finally though, you decided that you needed to get back to the matter at hand. Leo was gone, and Naib had to let go of you sometime. You made more of an effort to move, and Naib finally dropped you. Quickly, you jumped back on the machine as the Merc slowly crept from the box pile to return to his typing position. “You know, you could have been caught if it weren’t for me.” He sputtered, quieter than before. “Th-thank you...? God, Naib, what’s your issue today?” You spoke more questioningly than upset, hoping he wouldn’t hear the annoyed undertone in your speech. “It’s nothing you’d understand.” 

Alright, you were giving up for the remainder of decoding time.

Silently, you both finished the machine, and you made a break for the opposite direction of Naib. You figured you could have some alone time to just decode, calm down, and prep for the ending leap where you’d have to play a guessing game for which gate Hell Ember would be waiting for you at. 

Taking a break from running, your steps grew light as you began to pace yourself. “y/n!” As you looked through the fog, you discovered that Edgar was awaiting you with a half done machine. “Edgar! You’re here!” You made a quick greeting to the painter before getting back to business. Small talk wasn’t necessary between the two of you, as the ability to decode calmly was leaving both of your skillsets as your heartbeats became slowly more audible. 

“Come on, y/n, we can finish this, just don’t look away from the calibrations. Stay focused.” Edgar gave you a light tap of the palm to your head as he smacked the sides of the cipher. Your pace increased, as did Edgar’s as you had merely a percentage left. Someone else’s machine popped off, and yours a second later. 

Determined and brave, you made off like a bullet towards the southward exit gate. Sneaking around a broken pillar, you sighed at the sight of a clear gate.  Edgar clearly didn’t share the idea that this was the correct gate, so you could only hope he was hiding and waiting it out to escape. Actually, it seemed like everyone picked the wrong-

*SLAM*

A large hand suddenly slapped down on the decoding pad next to yours, frightening the hell out of you. You prepared to meet your doom when you turned around, but instead met a glaring Naib. “N-Naib! Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” “Where’d you run off to earlier!? We were supposed to be decoding together.” 

His tone from earlier was still present, so....clearly he was still peeved about something you did. “W-well I just thought-” “You thought nothin’, y/n. Just keep decoding.” Your crush wasn’t protecting him any more. Letting out an anxious and angry grunt, you turned back around to the coding pad, slamming the rubbery keys down as you decoded. 

So that’s how it was, then, huh? Fine.

“Naib, you’re a real asshole.” You huffed as you finished the gate, and stormed out, not evening looking back to see if he OR Hell Ember were following. 

Once back in the manor, you rushed back to your room, the embarrassment and guilt from your actions following you quickly after. 

Keeping up the angry façade, you slammed your door behind you before running to flop on your bed. Holding your pillow close to your face, you yelled into it, hoping it was enough to choke the sound. 

“Damn it, Naib...”  You closed your eyes, hoping to wake up with a renewed confidence that way you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of your words.

The sound of three loud, harsh knocks on your door awoke you from your rage nap. 

“OPEN UP! COME ON, I ALREADY KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, Y/N!!”

Naib? Again? Now what...

You begrudgingly sauntered to your door, cracking it open to peek out. Only, Naib pushed right through your defenses, pushing both you and the door back. “Hey!”

Naib was more forceful than before, walking quickly in your direction, and even quicker, cornering you against your bed. You fell onto your behind as Naib gave you a harsh push. “What is all this?! You’ve been acting weird since we started decoding together in that match, and you’re totally out of line! I didn’t even...do anything...” Your words lost their force as you trailed your eyes downward. So that’s why he was all pent up.

An obvious tent in Naib’s pants was what your eyes met with, and even though your cheeks began to blush furiously, you averted your gaze and tried to pretend that you saw nothing. “J-just get out of my room.” You grumbled, no longer able to keep eye contact. 

“I just came to talk, y/n, don’t throw me out.” Naib shifted his body, effectively pinning you to the plush mattress, a hand on either side of your head. You ‘hmphed’, and curtly turned your face away from him. 

“D-don’t act all pissy,” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you’re making it so much worse!” Your eyes still just couldn’t meet his, the heat between the both of you running down between your legs.  Sliding a knee between your thighs, Naib leaned down to speak gruffly into your ear. 

“This is all your fault, you know.” 

“N-Naib! I-” but your words were quickly vanquished by a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips slamming down on your own. A slight graze of his teeth on your bottom lip gave you more excitement than you’d ever felt in any match, and you immediately parted your lips to feel Naib’s wet tongue slick into your mouth. 

You let out a quiet noise, enough for him to notice. After what felt like an eternity (seconds) of making out, Naib pulled away to hold your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks harshly between his fingers. “So...that’s how you feel, huh?” 

You were flustered, but it wasn’t going to take away what your nap earned you. “You were being so awful in that match, but I still...love you, Naib. I didn’t know when or where to tell you, but if you’re gonna do it first, then by all means...” You gestured to Naib with a smirk. 

Hungrily, Naib practically shredded your clothes off, each of his hands attaching themselves to your chest as he kneaded your soft breasts between his fingers. Your quiet pants were driving him absolutely insane. He loved every little exhale that escaped your mouth, settling to nip and suck at your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you how much he needed this, how long he was waiting for this, how he wanted you.

An abrupt end to the sensations in your chest were replaced by a hand sliding underneath each of your thighs. Lifting them up to his shoulders, Naib quickly unfastened his belt, a look of giddiness flashing across his smug face. 

Diving his head down to meet his forehead to yours, Naib snatched your panties off in seconds, aligning himself painfully slow. As he slid his length slowly into your entrance, you dug your fingers into his hair, which was messily tied into his usual ponytail. Hissing at the feeling of you tugging his hair, Naib pushed all the way inside of you, earning a mewl of both pain and pleasure from you. 

"Ah, but wait..."

You winced as Naib suddenly pulled his length out of your entrance, the emptiness being too much to bear. "I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

He was going to make you eat your words.

Almost literally.

"Get up." His harsh tone was back, but it only served to make you feel hotter than before. Giving a shy nod, you got to your knees as Naib stood at the edge of the bed.

Nervously eying him, you gaped at his length, wishing you didn't say those words before so he could drive you insane with pleasure with it.

Stupid y/n...

"Well?" Tired of waiting, Naib took his hand to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his body, your head colliding with his chest. The sudden wholesome warmth was quickly replaced as he pushed you downwards near his manhood.

You began to comply as you opened your mouth, feeling as he gave a slow first grind into your throat. You choked immediately, but didn't pull away. Not yet.

Breathing quickly through your nose, you began to suck aggressively with no warning, pulling a gasp from the previously snarky Merc.

"Ga-hah! y-y/n...." Pulling off with a 'pop', you went back down to give small kitten licks to the tip of his cock, earning little shifts of position and pants from Naib.

"Stop....stop teasin' me...." was all he could huff out. You slid the entirety of his length in and out for a quick throat fuck a few times, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. In your own way, you were making him pay for being so snide earlier.  “Screw you, y/n. Have it your way.”

Your torture paid off! 

Naib firmly pushed you back down on your stomach, grasping your hips and pulling you close to his own hips. Letting out a satisfied hum, you felt as Naib quickly align himself with your entrance once more.

Giving you no time to readjust again, he fully sheathed himself inside of you, your insides stretching once again to fit him inside. “Hah....shit, Naib.....” You cursed, grasping tightly onto Naib as he pushed you both down, beginning to thrust wildly in and out of you. Every pounding slammed harder against the entrance of your womb, the suction of your warm, wet insides also providing intense pleasure for Naib. 

“Oh fuck, y/n, you’re...so tight...” Naib panted loudly into your ear. Neither of you were even remotely worried about the other manor residents hearing either of your moans racketing off the walls of the creaky residence.

“G-god...I c-can’t...hold on...” You whimpered pathetically as your dug your fingers into Naib’s scalp a second time. As your begging for more became louder, you felt the knot in your stomach grow larger, tighter, and more overwhelming than you’d ever felt before. You could feel Naib’s hard and precise thrusts growing sloppy, and you knew you were both getting close to climax.

  “y/n....y/n....I’m gonna...” Before his sentence could even be finished, Naib’s thick cock twitched harshly inside you as you felt his hot seed pour into you. The spreading warmth was enough to send you over the edge, your juice quickly spilling out to mix with his own. 

Slowly pulling out, your precious mercenary promptly collapsed on top of you, his head coincidentally landing in between your tits. You sighed hazily, riding off your previous high as you wrapped your arms around his head, and slowly letting your eyes close in exhaustion.

a/n: so sorry if theres any typos/grammar-spellin mistakes. i rushed the end bc i had this cued for FOREVER, enjoy babes <3 

[delimeful]

you can’t go back (4)

warnings: mentioned child neglect/bad parenting, mentioned awkward saucy teen flirting, arguing, emotional upset, the dubious ethics of over-excited teenagers

-

Roman had been acting strange, lately.

It was perhaps a harsh thing to think about his friend, especially considering he was bound to behave differently when the recent disappearance of his twin was taken into account, but it was also true.

Logan had known Roman for years, long enough that it was an effort to search back through his memories for a point that they hadn’t been together, if perhaps not always in the most amicable of circumstances. They’d gone through the entire gamut of enemies-frenemies-rivals-friends, and Logan liked to think that he had a fair grasp on Roman’s tells by this point.

All of Roman’s tells were currently telling him that the other student was trying to hide something, something big.

It wasn’t just the way that he had stopped sulking whenever something happened that reminded him of his missing brother, or that he was suddenly scrawling what almost seemed like notes in a glitter-covered notebook when he hadn’t had the inspiration to work on anything creative in weeks, or that he had all but given up on the pretense of paying attention in their shared classes.

No, the real sign that something was wrong was the way that Roman had begun to outright neglect his two closest friends.

Logan was hardly affected, of course. He was above the base emotions that so many of his peers were constantly fraught with, and less time with Roman gushing in his ear about whatever had caught his interest or complaining dramatically about those who had wronged him meant more time for Logan to focus on what was important, like his AP classes and many, many extracurriculars.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he was currently trailing after Roman on his walk home, when he really should be at violin practice. No matter how much of a soft spot the teacher had for him, he’d gained his skill through hard work, not skipping practice. Certainly not skipping practice to hound off after his erstwhile classmate.

However, he wasn’t the only one being abandoned in this scenario.

Logan Croft had been forced to sit at a lunch table with an increasingly secretive and distant Roman, and a mournful, kicked-puppy version of Patton Hertz, the most cheerful guy in their grade, if not the entire school.

Roman, stuck in his own thoughts as he clearly was, seemed to not notice the effect his lacking presence had had on Patton, and Logan was just about fed up of watching the slow decay of the half life of their little group.

The secrecy was ridiculous. They’d been there when Roman had been so worked up about the ‘police coverup’ that he’d actually considered trying to break into a government building, they could certainly be here for whatever it was that had him so bizarrely clammed up now!

Logan paused from a distance and watched as Roman hurried in through the front door of his house, counting backwards in his head. It would be a fair challenge to try and break into Roman’s room, particularly with Roman in the house, but if his deductions about the seeds constantly caught on his friend’s pant legs and the odd-colored mud left on the soles of his favorite tennis shoes were correct… There!

Sure enough, only a few moments later, Roman was pushing out through the back door, taking an unusually careful moment to close the screen door behind him before turning and walking determinedly down the path into the rural wilderness that made up half of the grounds his family’s farm sat on.

Logan waited until there was little chance that Roman would double back for something he’d forgotten, and then strode confidently up to the front door, rapping on it twice. Going by the fact that there was a car in the driveway and the door had been unlocked when Roman had gotten home from school, someone else was home to answer.

Mrs. Torres opened the door, looking surprised at the sight of him for a moment, before breaking out into a warm smile. “Logan! It’s so good to see you, are you here for Roman?”

“I’ve been meaning to meet up with him for a project, but he left school before me, so I came here,” Logan said, not above lying through omission to uncover the truth. “Is he home?”

“Oh, he just got back, but I don’t think he’s inside-- ROMAN!” she turned towards the stairs and called up them, frowning when there was no response. “He must be out in the yard again. Come in, come in!”

Logan stepped inside smugly, glancing around. The interior was much the same as the last time he’d been here. If it hadn’t been for the pile of faded missing posters under a mug on the counter and his own prior knowledge of the situation, Logan would have been hard-pressed to guess that this was the home of a recently-vanished child.

“Honestly, I’m just glad he’s not staying cooped up in his room anymore,” Mrs. Torres was saying. The woman speaking casually in front of him only added to the eerie composure of the home, and Logan made his way through the general pleasantries and politely refused any refreshments with an unpleasant feeling in his gut.

“They didn’t even bother printing out new missing posters this time,” he remembered Roman telling them with a quiet, bitter sort of anger. “He dyed his hair, and they won’t even pay to put a recent picture of him up when it could be the difference between someone recognizing him or not!”

On a logical level, Logan can understand something concerning happening over and over, repetition dulling it’s effects until it feels mundane or everyday. Roman has mentioned before how his parents believed that Remus was simply acting out for attention, mostly while thanking Roman for being above that, as though the metaphorical ‘good twin’ wasn’t currently building a career on literally acting for an audience's attention.

What Logan can’t understand is that Remus’s parents are apparently completely uninterested in finding out why Remus is so desperate for attention that he would resort to a maneuver he knows will only get him negative consequences.

Logan himself would certainly like to understand. All queries on the matter had garnered only uncomfortable evasion from Roman, as though his friend might have had an idea but wouldn’t say, likely due to irritating personal feelings that Logan couldn’t parse.

So, he’d reached out to Remus directly, on one of the few days that he’d actually attended classes.

The delinquent had been visibly confused by his approach-- the twins allegedly hadn’t had a mutual friend since the beginning of grade school-- and resistant to Logan’s questioning, which Patton had later informed him was likely far too blunt for the situation. They’d gone in circles for a bit, Remus making outlandish or confusing metaphors while Logan refused to rise to the bait, and then he’d made a simple observation about the hypocrisy of the twins’ parents, and Remus had stared at him with an odd tilt to his head for a moment.

Shortly after, he had made a very confusing comment about something that was anatomically impossible, and when Logan had enquired further, Remus had then hared off with pink cheeks and ditched school for a week. He’d asked Roman about the situation, but his friend had only covered his ears with an agonized look on his face, utterly refusing to explain.

Logan shook the errant thought away, and the odd pang of something like regret that Remus had vanished before he could follow up on the interesting interaction.

He turned his gaze away from the unharried setting. The odd dynamic between the Torres family was not what he was here to investigate, not even remotely.

There was only one Torres he was investigating right now, and he had a strong suspicion that his odd behavior had less to do with family than one might expect.

“Go on ahead, I’m sure he’ll hear you once you get out back,” Mrs. Torres encouraged, picking up a particularly irritated-looking calico cat. “Just have to make sure Lady Macbeth doesn’t escape and disturb your little session. Roman’s been worried about coyotes, so we’ve been keeping her inside.”

Logan nodded, though privately he was a little surprised. Coyotes? He hadn’t thought they would be so bold as to lurk at a farm this close to urban areas. Perhaps there had been sightings near here?

He pushed past the creaky screen door with a striking sense of familiarity, despite the fact that it had been quite a while since the three of them had gone wandering together in the foliage and dirt of the Torres farm. Patton’s allergies could be quite fierce, after all.

As expected, walking into the backyard revealed no signs of Roman, even when Logan cleared his throat and called out. He knew his friend well enough to know that he would have reacted audibly to his unexpected presence, so the only logical conclusion was that he wasn’t nearby.

Clearly, it was time to check the perimeter.

He walked in a careful, orderly line next to the old wooden fence, eyeing the peeling paint and refraining from setting his hand on it. He had more to worry about than potential splinters, such as keeping an eye out for any potential strangeness that could explain Roman’s behavior.

There was little to be found in the brush except a regrettable amount of sandburs catching along the hem of his pants, so when he spotted the barn, he felt a surge of excitement.

And if he indulged in a little bit of sneaking, hoping to catch his quarry unaware, that was his business. Roman was loud enough that he could hear him ranting a good few meters from the barn, anyhow.

He managed to make it all the way to the edge of the barn wall before the rant abruptly cut off, and he stalked forwards hurriedly, pushing the door open before Roman could hide anything incriminating.

He needn’t have worried: the evidence was standing there in the middle of the barn, strapped to a support rafter.

It also wasn’t human.

“What are you doing here?” Roman shrilled, taking a quick step to be in front of the creature. It was an ineffective method of hiding it, seeing as what appeared to be long, spider-like limbs were extending in the air a good few meters in either direction behind him.

Logan had known about Roman’s theory, the one that had been laughed right out of the police station. He’d walked with Roman and scoured the fields for any sign of what Remus had mentioned, though they hadn’t found anything. He knew his friend still believed that his twin’s disappearance had been unnatural, extraterrestrial.

Knowing was quite different from seeing an entire alien right in front of oneself.

Roman was still talking, in that nervous chattering tone that he always took on when he was working himself into a truly incomprehensible explanation, but Logan could hardly be asked to divide his attention at the moment.

Extra anterior eyes, odd shiny patches along the sides of the neck, exterior hinges along the jaw, organic plating that had visibly darkened since his first glance-- there was so much that he needed to understand the purpose of, so many questions he had about their origins. How close by was other life? Which star had they hailed from? How had they gotten here?

He was moving forwards without a second thought, enthralled by the way the legs rose up-- like a bird mantling their wings, and they appeared smooth, not hairy as an actual spider’s would be.

“Incredible,” he breathed, and then there was a hand fisted in the back of his polo and he was being yanked away. Where he’d just stood, all four of the strange limbs stabbed into the ground, their reach longer and their ends sharper than he’d anticipated.

There must have been an extra joint closer to their back, the flexible kind that would allow for such an extension. He itched to circle around and look for himself, to confirm his hypothesis before the limbs retracted, but Roman was still clinging to him like a shrieking barnacle.

“What did I just say?!” he demanded, gearing up for a scolding. “It’s not friendly! Do you want to get stabbed into next week?”

“How long have you been keeping an actual alien life form from the world at large? From scientists at large? From me?” Logan shot back, shaking Roman’s grip loose. “Have you had them strapped upright this entire time? Can they talk? How did this even happen?”

Even as he demanded an explanation, his gaze was drawn back over to the alien, taking in their every twitch with endless curiosity. He wanted to know how to read each motion, from the downturn of their chin to the scrunching of their smaller eyes to the way the flat plates where a mouth should be had seemed to twitch. He wanted to know everything.

“It’s been like a week, I didn’t strap them up they came like that, either they don’t speak English or they’re a really good actor, and they showed up in my barn after Remus was abducted, you do the math!” Roman rushed out, edging closer as though he thought Logan was about to try and get closer to the alien again. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you would do this!”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve almost been stabbed in the pursuit of science,” Logan retorted, annoyed at the presumption that he wouldn’t risk his life for his goals.

“It’s only a little bit about the near-stabbing!” Roman’s voice cracked, and Logan finally pulled the other half of his attention away from the alien to stare. “This is my only lead on my brother, and you’re going to want to-- to-- to put it in a laboratory or National Geographic Magazine or something!”

“I’d be far more likely to write a thesis paper on the matter,” Logan corrected helpfully. Roman’s hands twitched, the body language possibly indicating that he was barely restraining himself from trying to throttle Logan.

“Whatever! The point is, this isn’t a science experiment to me!” His rival’s face was crumpling slightly at the edges. “You can’t just-- just use the alien I found as a ticket to get into some esteemed college while Remus is left to rot in the far reaches of outer space!”

To Logan’s horror, Roman’s eyes had become suspiciously shiny. He floundered for a moment, wishing Patton was there to smooth things over as he so often did, before firming his shoulders and lifting his chin. He could at least try to explain, and hope it didn’t turn out too badly.

“I’m not going to ‘leave Remus to rot,’” Logan started, remembering the recycled missing posters stacked up on the counter. “If you believe that this alien is key to finding out what happened to him, then that should be-- well, our first priority should always be furthering the advancement of human understanding, especially with a discovery as big as this, but I am an accomplished multitasker, so we can do that while we attempt to locate and recover Remus.”

Roman’s shoulders slowly loosened from their frustrated hunch. “You’re going to help me? Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d joke?” Logan replied, gesturing to his tie. “The more information we compile on this specimen, the better we’ll understand them, and the closer we’ll be to understanding the motives behind Remus’s abduction.”

“And you aren’t going to tell anyone?” Roman asked, looking more hopeful by the moment.

“Why would I? I work more effectively on projects on my own,” Logan answered, the same sentence that had sparked a loud argument between him and Roman in the middle of Biology two years ago. This time, however, Roman looked excited rather than offended at the response. “We really should figure out something to tell Patton, though.”

“That’s… a good idea,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “There’s no way we can let him around an unknown alien fiend, especially not one so… spider-y. You almost got stabbed, imagine what it might do to poor Patton!”

“You handle our story,” Logan decided, turning to look back at the alien fully. “I’ll see what we can do about those extra limbs. We won’t be able to do any sort of up-close analysis with a constant threat hovering over us.”

He straightened his tie, studying the way the extra limbs in question were vibrating just slightly in the air, drawn in significantly closer to the alien's body than they had been before. Despite the movement of the legs, the alien themself was still as stone, all of their attention locked on Logan.

Through observation and experimentation, he was sure that each little motion of theirs would soon become as readable to him as everyday human body language, and from there, real communication would be in reach.

Communication with an extraterrestrial... This would truly be a project like no other.

Fueled by a thrill of excitement, Logan couldn't help but smile.

[toorusproblems]

If your still taking requests can I request a death note oneshot nsfw were it’s after Light’s fathers death and the reader doesn’t like Light in fact hates Him but starts to feel sorry for him and later that day decides to visit his apartment to help him deal with his grief and ask if there is anything she can do to help him and light subtly implies that she can help him by sleeping with him and the reader is tempted to but doesn’t want to because she remembers she dislikes him and he has a girlfriend but light eventually persuades her into it ?

Just this once?

pairing: light yagami x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

cw: infidelity (light cheats on misa), dubcon, coercion, reader is L’s little sister, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!!!)

hi!! sorry this took forever, i took a lil break from writing. i tried my best to stick to the request but idk how well i did lmao but even so, i hope you like it!!!

Your dead-set focus is suddenly ripped from you as the familiar noise of the task force headquarters’ door creaking open pulls your eyes away from the bright computer screen. To your displeasure, the new presence in the room is none other than Light Yagami.

“Oh, Light! I thought we agreed you didn’t have to come in today?” An uncharacteristically soft-spoken Matsuda greets.

“Yeah, but I guess my father’s passing only fueled me to get to the bottom of this even more.” Light states.

Being L’s sister, you’ve inherited the black-haired boy’s suspicion of Light. After all, you were the only person in the world that L trusted with his entire heart and soul. Those countless times you’ve stayed up together throwing theories about the Kira case back and forth, only for you and the night itself to hear.

Though your brother was undeniably a bit smarter than you, you weren’t stupid either. With everything L had theorized about Light’s true identity, it’s hard for you to write off L’s death as a coincidence. The timelines just seemed to line up too perfectly.

Everything on top of the fact that because of your investigation work on the Kira case you were barely even given time to mourn the loss of your precious older brother, a heavy dislike of the brown-haired man festered in you.

Even so, you can’t help but feel sympathetic towards him today. After all, it’s true that you know what it feels like to lose a close family member too.

“Hey, Light,” his name feels sour on your tongue, “if you want I can take the heavy lifting today, don’t stress, alright?”

His eyes meet yours, and you take note that they look even more dead than usual.

“It’s okay, Y/N, no need to worry.”

—

No need to worry.

Well, you did worry. All day in fact.

You hate yourself for feeling so empathetic towards the man who you suspect of being behind the killing of your very own brother.

But here you are now, about to knock on Light’s apartment door with a small bouquet of tulips in your left hand. Nothing special, you told yourself, just something to show that you care at least a little.

As you raise your right knuckles to the wooden surface, the door suddenly swings inward.

“Oh hello, Y/N. Pretty flowers you’ve got there.” Light points at the objects in your grip.

That’s it. That’s another thing that you hate about him. How he always seems to be one step ahead of you in even the smallest things. How it feels like he always knows what you’re thinking. It’s almost like he’s watching you sometimes, for fuck’s sake!

“These are for you, actually.”

“Really?” he fakes a smug expression, making you cringe, “Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. Feel better soon.”

You turn to leave, but Light’s hand catches your shoulder.

“Wait. Before you leave, can you come in for a second?”

“Oh uh… sure? Why?”

You receive no response as Light silently motions you onto his couch. A nervous pit grows in the bottom of your stomach.

“So uh… what do you need me for?” You ask apprehensively.

“Just want to talk. It feels like forever since we’ve actually sat down together and had a conversation, you know?”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were keeping in. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

Yet another awkward silence passes. The sheer quietness seems very strange to you for a moment until it hits you.

“Hey, where’s Misa? Is she out at a shoot or something?”

“So observant.” Light chuckles, and with the tone he puts on, you’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not, “Yes, she’s filming a commercial for Miho Skincare. Or at least that’s what she told me before she ran out the door.”

“Oh, I see.” You bite your lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation, “Do you want me to put the flowers in a vase for you?” You ask, picking up the tulips from the coffee table.

Light moves his hand to your thigh in a smooth motion, catching you very off guard so that you nearly drop the bouquet. You hate the fact that blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No need. But there is something else I want from you, if I’m going to be blunt.” His eyes pierce directly through you. You feel naked under his gaze.

Fuck, as many negative feelings you harbour for the man in front of you, you can’t deny he’s attractive in all sense of the word. You know what he’s asking for. It’s plainly clear even just from the lust blooming in his irises.

And it’s then when you realize how touch-starved you are. You’ve been using every available hour of your life on the Kira case, of course you hadn’t had time for any kind of relationship.

So you don’t stop him from inching closer. One of his hands sliding towards the inside of your thigh while the other pushes a piece of your hair from your face. His captivating eyes flutter shut and you’re about to give into his touch when you remember the girl you had been talking about just a moment earlier.

“Wait. Misa.” You whisper simply.

“She won’t be home for hours. And you want to make me feel better, do you not? I’m just asking for one more thing in addition to those flowers you gave me, hm?” He borderline growls into your ear. You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

Without waiting for an answer, Light crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is hungry, like he wants to waste no time with you. Admittedly, you still feel a little uneasy about all of this, Misa’s face—sweet as candy—beaming at you in your mind as her boyfriend sucks on your tongue.

You feel around each other’s bodies, unbuttoning anything you feel to rid yourselves of your clothing. It all goes so fast, and before you know it, you’re both in your undergarments. Light’s got you lying beneath him with your knees pressed to your chest. He reaches to pull your grey cotton panties to the side.

Suddenly, the peppy blonde girl inside your head once again appears, and you realize what you’re doing.

“Hang on, Light. I’m not too sure about this anymore…” You weakly tell him, pushing his hands away from your most sensitive area.

“Hm? But you promised you’d help me feel better.” Light throws uncharacteristic puppy eyes your way. He points to the wet patch that had formed on the centre of your panties, “And look, you want it too, right? Just this once? Please?”

It’s true, you had come here to make him happier. So why should you go back on it now? You criticize yourself, wondering how you could ever be so inconsiderate—to a coworker who just lost his father, too!

So you nod your head in coerced approval towards the man on top of you, who then in turn wasted no time pulling his cock out from his boxers.

Without warning, or any prep whatsoever, Light pushes the head of his cock into your cunt. The stretch burns, and you’re left wondering if it’s just because you haven’t gotten laid in quite a while, or if his cock is just that fat.

“Light!” You whine in slight protest, “You’re too big… hurts…”

He only hums in response, pushing himself further into you, “Sorry, little one, this cunt is just so tight, I can’t help myself. Fuck-“

Light starts a rhythm, watching his cock sink in into you over and over again. He notes how each time he pulls out, a sheen of both your slick, and even some blood coats it. Must’ve just been too big for your little cunny, he guesses.

The pain of the stretch slowly turns into pleasure and you relax into Light’s touch. You throw your hands into his surprisingly soft brunette locks as he pounds into your sweet spot.

You wonder if L is watching you right now. He must be so disappointed in his little sister, moaning and creaming so sweetly for the very same man he thought he had taught you to be wary of, the man who made the world a living hell.