#my stupid little heart can’t survive so much happiness i swear

[etincelise]

how much longer are we going to pretend that lemon boy by cavetown isn’t an ultimate definition of tyrus?!

[chiwhorei]

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬

paring: kenny ackerman x fem!reader

genre: apocalypse!au, smut, dark content, 18+ mdni [cross-posted to Ao3]

word count: 3k

overview: kenny *i-wouldn’t-fuck-you-if-it-was-the-end-of-the-world* ackerman; but it is and you do . . . and you’ll probably do it again. or, if you read beyond the cut and wind up in hell that is legally not my fault.

tags: dymph does sacrilege once again, post-apocalypse au, blood, violence, zombies (only mentions of gore nothing specific), somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, degradation, smoking, insertion, sloppy oral, big age gap aka kenny is a nasty old man and reader is a sweet little virgin.

a.notes: happy *fucking* easter. this is for the smut pile’s apocalypse collab so go give everyone’s pieces a read, everyone has worked so incredibly hard. this is dedicated to @pleasantanathema​, who was both my beta reader and emotional support while stringing this together. here’s to the old man fuckery, cheers.

hymn: the seven deadly virtues - camelot

But stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man. -Luke 21:36

                                      * * *

Wet.

A sticky kind of wet. Clinging on like thick clay, splattered across your neck— gore and sinew wrapped in a noose. Shades of decaying reds and browns are all you see these days. 

The seeping, molding kind of wet.

The smell is suffocating, the toll of death deep in your bones. You keep moving, you have to. One foot in front of the other, fingers fretting with the cross hanging between your collarbones. Counting your Hail Mary’s distracts from the ache in your soles and the burning feeling that you’re rotting away.

It was slow at first. The end of the world, the crashing, clattering end felt like a slow decent to hell. Pieces of the modern world falling away, the promise of tomorrow, the assurance of a cure. You refused to believe the dead could walk the earth until they were stumbling straight towards you. 

All of us, you think, are rotting away.

“Pick up the pace, kid. Are you trying to end up like the rest of those fuckers?” His voice rings from a few feet in front of you. The brush under your feet is dry, leaves crunching loudly with every weary step forward. 

Kenny always likes to remind you of your naïveté, insults about your rose tinted glasses barked crudely from around a cigarette. Your youth, your optimism, your beliefs-- useless traits in his opinion. What good is God in a world like this.

“Friends. They were our friends.” Your words come out in a whimper, the tone further irritating the man ahead of you.

He stops, turning around to catch your eyes, gaze piercing through the night like a knife. All that’s left of your composure is used to keep from crashing right into his chest.

“Ain’t no more room for friends in this world, baby doll,” a long pointer finger lifts your chin, the slightest touch still bruising, “thinkin’ like that is what’s going to get ya killed.”

Rose tinted glasses, cracked and splattered with blood, fall off and are lost to a world that no longer exists. Kenny let’s up and turns, pulling you farther into the thick brush. You could swear you feel the lenses as they splinter under your shoe.

                                      * * *

Kenny is a vile man. He knows his name isn’t on a reservation list at the Pearly Gates, he’s aware that a sinner lives on borrowed time. 

Nowadays, everyone is living on borrowed time. Even you.

You, he thinks, looking back to where you stumble over a tree branch, far to good for a world like this.

He can’t help but laugh, the absolute absurdity of his current situation. Escaping death by the skin of his teeth, watching any familiar faces burning in the remnants of a camp he couldn’t really call home. People that fought to the bone, melting or devoured or both.

And then there was you, standing in front of the flames, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks, stiff in shock and horror. He remembers the way your lips moved, mumbling a quiet prayer instead of trying to run. Stupid little thing.

It’s not the earth the meek inherit; it’s the dirt.

Was it pity that made Kenny pull you away from an infernal gravesite all those months ago? He’s never the hero of any story. No, it must have been something else.

Maybe it was the way you looked up with teary eyes, silently begging for help. Unwittingly making a deal with the devil. His teeth grind at the memory, the vision of how beautiful you look so completely helpless. 

Kenny leads and you follow, he hunts and you flitch at the sound of an arrow piercing flesh. The small squeak and proceeding thumb of meat as it hits the ground never fails to make you sick. When he’s not hunting for food, he’s hunting something else.

The sounds of death are all the same.

Some days you’re lucky, coming across abandoned hideouts or deserted cars. Snagging whatever hasn’t already been picked over; some ammo, the occasional can of peaches or pack of cigarettes. Kenny laughs dryly everytime, chucking the carton into his bag. Always the cigarettes, never the lighter. Most days, not so much.

Every night, you fall asleep to the flicker of a campfire, lulled by the steady sound of Kenny’s knife as it scrapes against a piece of wood. He’s always the last asleep. The woods are a dangerous place, the possibility of monsters circle at every moment. Under the veil of night, anything could happen. And it does.

He wipes his mouth, settling back into the harsh ground below him with a pleased hum. Your whimpers have settled back into a light snore. 

Kenny is a vile man, and you’re too concerned with the lifeless villain in the shadows that you forget about the one sitting on the other side of the fire.

Three months of waking up to aching limbs and misplaced panties can’t be a coincidence, can it?

                                      * * *

“Well ain’t this something.” Kenny pulls on the door, swinging it open with a loud creek. Your neck strains to look up at dark wood and steepled roof, the tall building hidden by dense forest, you two must be the first people to step inside in months. 

“A church.” You’d find comfort within these walls if you weren’t so positive that God had abandoned this world.

Statues of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph are empty behind their stone eyes, shadowed with an unsettling shade of red from the stained-glass windows. The moment is a time capsule, a vision of the congregation of saints bathed in blood.

A chill runs down your back, counting every vertebrae.

You push down the unsettling foreboding, focusing back on the instincts to survive instead of lingering on a religion that you can no longer make sense of.

“Hey kid, over here.” You pick up the pace, quickening footsteps away from holy symbolism and towards Kenny’s voice. You walk into the closest room off a dark hallway and find him leaning against the doorframe. The rooms are getting darker with the vanishing sun, but you make out shelves of cans and boxes, food, blankets, clothes.

“I bet they used this as a food pantry,” Your comment was probably an obvious assumption, but Kenny just hums in response, “there’s enough here to last up months.” 

Good samaritans in the first life are a saving grace is this one. Your cynicism lifts from heavy shoulders for just a moment. The lines between luck and divine intervention are fuzzy at best.

“I saw a well right outside too. Water’s probably cold as ice but it’s better than anything we’ve come across yet.” Kenny’s voice is even, but you swear he cracks a smile.

He was right, the water is cold enough to shatter your bones like ice. You shiver and chatter, teeth threatening to crack, but the feeling of being clean has you dumping bucket after bucket over your head. The grime and grit of your reality running down to seep into the grass below.

There’s no home to run to after the world ends, but water and food is more than you could imagine in recent months. Shuffling through boxes of donated clothes, you find a shirt big enough to sleep in. The fabric smells like moth-balls and dust, but the feeling of clean cotton against your skin is heavenly. 

You find Kenny in the clerical office, rummaging through the priests desk. The sun is replaced with a flight of candles, for the first time in forever, you don’t feel like death is standing right behind you.

“Would you look at that,” Kenny pulls a cigar from the desk, bringing it up to his nose for inspection, “Looks like father had his own little habit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at his comment, rounding towards the large leather chair he’s settled into.

“Smoking kills you know.” You lean against the desk next to him. Your bare legs brush against his knee, the heat from your skin makes his mouth water.

“I think there’s more pressing concerns than tobacco, kid.”

There’s something different about tonight, even more than just the four walls and roof around you. There’s something about Kenny and the way his stare has followed you all night. You can feel a cord pulling taught, fraying in the middle before it snaps.

“Asshole.”

The plush of Kenny’s bottom lip is close enough to your cunt to be disastrous.  Friendly banter becomes laughing and swatting at his chest like a teenager. Communion wine and tension pulling you into him. The loneliness of this life becomes more apparent the closer he is to touching your skin. When did the man in front of you make your heart race so fast? 

Maybe you’ve always felt this way.

You feel it, the ghosts of last night, the night before. The ghosts of weeks or maybe even months. The familiarity of a touch you weren’t quite awake for. 

Ass arching off from where it sticks to the cherry wood, you want to feel it again. The laving of tongue and mouth against you. The devouring of your most intimate planes of skin, places no one else has ever touched before, places you were saving for your future husband.

The kiss as hot as hell.

“Awe, c’mon now,” His nose nudges against your clit, the movement pulling another cry from your throat to bounce against the high ceiling, “that’s not my name.”

“I’ve been tracing it into this precious cunt of yours every night,” each word is more unhinged than the last, no longer worried about the doe in his sights running away, “Do I need to spell it out for you again?”

There’s nowhere to run, pressed in between his canines.

Dreams of calloused fingers and a wandering mouth are now cementing as memories. The feeling of rough facial hair. The sounds of desperate moans and how they shake against you. 

The way his tongue curls like a signature. 

His mouth is flush against you again, sucking at your aching clit for only a moment before moving his attention to long lashes against your clenching hole.

“You must remember. You were moaning it so sweetly,” he nips at your puffy lips before drawing back. His chin is sheened in your arousal, slick refracting off the dimly lit space between you, flickering candles outline his features with a dance of orange shadows. Kenny’s eyes hold you captive, giving you one more chance to answer.

“What’s my name, kid?”

His tongue breaches you, a set of large, familiar hands keep your legs spread wide atop the desk. 

You remember— of course you do. You remember everything. The name stuck in your head like a broken record. The name you call for in a sleepy haze as your body is dragged into orgasm.

The name that’s spelled against you like a promise.

“K-Kenny please.”

That’s all that he needs, the only thing, if he’s being honest, that he’s ever needed.

“There’s my sweet little girl. Finally using your manners.” Two fingers come up to swipe against your pussy, stopping right before your clit and collecting slick to bring up to your eye line for inspection. You jump when the warm digits drag against your bottom lip, a silent prompt for your mouth to fall open.

Kenny sticks his fingers in, the intent to make you gag is clear but you take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. Your tongue swirls around the intrusion, running against each joint and suckling loudly. The sound is wet and lewd, the spit collecting at the corners of your mouth makes his head spin.

Your destruction, he decides, will be beautiful. 

Kenny’s fingers release with a wet pop. He runs callouses down from your cheek, over the curve of your tits and down your abdomen. Two fingers stop at your pubic bone to trace lightly against the skin in random patterns. 

“Your body is just as agreeable when you’re awake.” His words drip in sin, reminding you exactly how familiar he is with you. All of you.

Both thumbs come down to spread your lips, Kenny can’t help but take a moment-- just a beat-- to stare at your swollen, glossy clit and the quiver of your little hole. Your skin is soft, completely untouched by anyone else. He laid claim to almost every inch before you begged him to.

He sinks from the leather chair, kneeling in front of you. You’re the body and blood as far as a sinner like Kenny is concerned.

There’s a plea stuck in your throat. You want to beg him to slow down, it’s too much all at once, but you know if you cried out-- all you would do is beg him for more.

His tongue is long and flat against you, every swipe is punctuated with a growl. The rumbling from his chest is thrown against your clit like a current through cold water. Sharp, shocking, terrifying.

“Kenny, I- I want,” He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the hood. There’s no words in any language that make sense to you. There’s nothing but his name. 

“Kenny ah, I need, I don’t know how t—”

Your dangling over a fire, trying desperately to jerk away from the lick of the flames. 

“I know, kid, I know exactly what you need.” his breath is heavy and warm in fans across your skin. You're dripping down the sides of his face and onto the cleric’s desk. Kenny is covered in you, open mouthed kisses against the sweetest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. The tangy taste of your pussy mixing with the wine still on his tongue. 

If he spent forever between your thighs, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“Such a sweet little thing, you’re insatiable.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glazing over with a distinct look of teary submission. It’s so new to you, but grinding upwards and catching your clit against his chin seems like second nature.

The primal need for release is much stronger than any prayer of abstinence. 

“What would your little prayer circle think if they knew you spread your legs for a dirty old fucker like me?” Kenny coos against the apex of your thighs. His words knock on the hollow space behind your breastbone.

Your family and friends, the priest from St. Mary’s who baptized you, old man Jaeger from next door— all buried or burned to ash or so much worse.

Anyone you’ve ever loved is dead, maybe that’s why Kenny is still around.

There’s nothing that can hold you back anymore, the control you claw at slips from your fingers like watery silk. There’s no escaping the roughness of his stubble and an evil, serpent tongue.

“Kenny!”

You cum with a shattering cry, the sound ringing so loud in your ears you swear any enemy of the living in a 10 mile radius could hear you. In reality, what escapes is little more than a broken snivel. 

It hurts, muscles aching from the exertion of trying to keep from falling apart. Your body is a hairpin trigger, the comedown feels more like withdrawal.

“There’s my girl, my good little girl.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, doting while you fall back to earth. It’s a strange feeling, you’ve never found comfort in Kenny before, he isn’t the shoulder you go to lean on. 

But tonight he’s the chin you buck into.

The aftershocks run across your naked skin, already missing the feeling of his touch as he settles back into the cracked leather chair. 

His cock presses into the denim confines uncomfortably, the ache can wait though. Whether this is his last night alive or has all the time in the world-- he’s going to savor the glistening prize nestled between your thighs. Kenny’s fingers find the cigar where it lies next to your knee, bringing it up to examine while you squirm at the cold night air against your wet cunt.

“No one will ever make you feel as good as I do,” both legs kick out, falling to dangle on either side of his knees in surprise as the cigar comes down to trace your outer lips. He presses the tuck inwards, pulling out slightly so you cry out. The harsh texture of the wrapper mixes with the most minimal of stimulation, causing tears to clump in your waterline. 

“Why don’t you think of a way to repay me, hmm?”

You push past the heaviness in your muscles, sitting up to meet his incredulous stare. Kenny sticks the cigar between his teeth, striking a match from the desk drawer to light the cap. The cigar is stale, cheap tobacco. But every drag now tastes like you.

“I- I could try to--” Words are left unspoken on your tongue, even now, the intonation is poison in your throat. 

You expect Kenny to laugh at your bashfulness, instead, two fingers come up to curl around the Rosary around your neck. He drags you forward, exhaling smoke into your parted, quivering lips. You try your best not to choke. 

He pulls the cigar away, ashing it carelessly on the floor.

“Use your words, kid, tell me what you want.” His words are sleazy but his voice is soft around the edges. Prompting you to shuffle onto his lap. His free hand rests in the small of your back to keep you steady.

“I want--” Fuck, your voice feels like it’ll fail, you take a moment to breathe, “I want you to fuck me, Kenny.” 

Your plea is rushed, so quick to hit his ears he almost misses it. There’s no hiding anymore, there’s nowhere else in this world but the private quarters of a long-dead clergy member. The space between you and Kenny is foggy and tense, only inches between lips.

There’s no more penance in this world, no more time to sit and atone for his sins with prayer. The soft, syrupy feeling of your cunt wrapping around his cock is a slice of heaven, cut out and stolen right from the sky. 

“I thought you’d never ask, doll face.” 

✞ all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[alreadyblondenow]

Jaehyun’s Body | Jung Jaehyun

▸ Jaehyun x reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Demon Jaehyun, Prostitute reader ▸ HALLOWEEN SERIES: 127 HOUSE ▸ 5/5 for NEOHALLOWEEN writing festival hosted by @nct-writers​

Summary: Jaehyun is a demon who uses girls to make him stay handsome. He eats girls… literally. Then he met you and he can’t eat you because he’s in love with you.

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Sex, sex, sex, a lot of killings, mentions of killings, Blood, lots and lots of blood, killings again, then another killings, eating of human flesh, filthy (I’m telling you), all kinds of sex, swearing, abduction, mentions of eating children but he stopped don’t worry, pregnancy, murder, attempted murder, suicide (?), prostitution, mentions of sex club, depression, mentions of therapy, mentions of cheating

A/N: Pure fiction, we all know that Jaehyun doesn’t need girls to make him handsome. I made this filthier than ever because it’s my last fic for 127 House. I made a timestamp for this as a bonus preview so if you already read it, yay. Inspired by the movie Jennifer’s Body and Pretty Woman. I changed the ending last minute I hope you wont hate me. Also, I’m sure a lot of you want to read more Jaehyun eating girls, literally, in action. So I will just make another timestamp for that in the next few days. 

Taglist: For the last time, if I happen to forget you I’m so sorry :( @chocolattees @floweringtheflowers @huangxx @bumblebeenct @neosculptures @kooksfairyfloss @jaehyunoos @soothingjae @plump-peach @neospirited @jeongyoonohs @shanghai-lu @seriousballoon @sunshinedhyuck  @the-universe-in-you-jjh  @mira-winterlight @generantionct @mal-nakamoto23 @svteencarat​ @johnjaespeach​ @jinsonaz​ @hyuckshoe69 

Halloween present time 

“Mom, can you tell me the story about the monster who eats humans just so he can look like one too?” your nine-year-old daughter snuggles beside you on a Halloween night, tired from trick or treating and already sleepy.  

“Just because it’s Halloween” you boop her nose and kept her close to you, stroking her head and making her comfortable. 

“Once upon a time, there were five teenagers who want to make a deal with the devil. The clueless teenagers did not know that what they were doing was wrong. Meaning, wrong methods, wrong sacrifice. 

Given that they don’t know what they were doing, they singlehandedly or accidentally brought a creature into this world. The bothered creature that was summoned ate the teenagers as the creature was so confused, why was he bothered in his own torture cell in hell? 

It starved for days, lost in a world that’s not familiar to him. He fed himself with every human who crosses paths with him, men, women, and children. Until it finally knew that eating humans can make him look just like them. 

The creature adapted in this world, living like a normal human and walking amongst us, still not knowing how to go home. “

Halloween many many many years ago 

“And that creature is me. Happy Halloween class, enjoy the night” Jaehyun finishes his story in front of his class. Watching every student laugh and shrug his ‘scary’ story for Halloween. They thought he was joking, and that was the fun part Jaehyun thought. 

“See you on our next session Mr. Jung” a flirty young girl waved goodbye to him, smiling like she wanted to get on her knees and suck Jaehyun's cock right then and there. 

“Enjoy Halloween” he winked back at her and proceed to fix his things and leave the classroom. 

It was exactly a decade ago when those stupid teenagers brought him to this world. He didn’t have much of a choice but to live like a normal human to save himself. Feed from their flesh, kill every two weeks and get on with life as if nothing gruesome happened inside his house. 

Jaehyun targets girls, women in their early twenties or older. He stopped eating children only because the effect on him does not stay for long. Whereas, eating older people can last two weeks max. Luring girls was never hard for Jaehyun because he’s naturally handsome, but without human flesh, he returns to the disgusting creature he used to be. 

Tinder is his go-to restaurant. A little swipe right over here, a swipe right over there, and voila! He now has a tasty dinner and for Halloween night, perfect to celebrate his existence here in this world.

As part of his adaptation in this world, he learned how to cook human meals for his victims. Feeding them good food before he eats them. In the middle of cooking in his big kitchen, his doorbell rang assuming that it’s his food that just arrived. He opened his door with a smile, welcoming the young lady inside his beautiful house, smelling her for some time during the hug. Delicious, he thought. 

“Wow. Your house is big” the clueless girl exclaims. It’s always the same, every girl who steps inside his house is always amazed at how beautiful 127 House is. It’s white interior always captures the ladies’ hearts and leave them in awe. 

“I hope you’re hungry. I made dinner for us” he gave the girl a flirty smile, flashing those cute dimples of his that always make the girls smile. 

During dinner, Jaehyun can’t rush his meal and get on with the kill already. He is patient and takes time to know what he’s about to eat. He asks a lot of questions to gain the girl’s trust and fool her that Jaehyun is actually into her. “Do you do drugs?” the most important question for the night. Jaehyun hates eating humans who do drugs because it has a side effect on him as if his body can’t handle the drugs itself that it makes him weak on the spot. So much for being a creature from hell. 

“No, I don’t do drugs. Do you?” the girl answered with wide eyes. 

“No no. I’m clean” he smiled and put his hand on the girl’s thigh. Slowly caressing it until Jaehyun reaches her damped panties. “Can you open your legs for me?” Jaehyun’s irresistible request made the girl open her legs a little wider under the table. Rolling her head side to side as she feels Jaehyun’s cold fingers brushing on her clothed clit. 

It’s time, Jaehyun thought. Dinner is served. 

He pushed the plates away, glasses clinking, utensils started to fall from the table. Jaehyun carried her and put her on the dinner table, kissing her wildly to put the girl in the mood and make her horny. It always works. While he’s busy kissing her, his hands slowly remove her panties and spread her legs a little rough and push her on the dinner table. 

“We really doing this here?” the girl asks. 

“This is the perfect place to eat you” 

The girl smiles and felt excited because a handsome man like Jaehyun is about to eat her pussy. Little did she know, that Jaehyun will quite do it literally. He planted kisses on her inner thighs, making the girl moan and tickle her in the meantime. Jaehyun runs a finger on her slit and make her legs shiver, licking his finger as if he’s having a taste of his dinner. 

“Eat me already” she protests. Jaehyun chuckled low and puts two fingers inside her before he makes a move. 

Jaehyun’s first lick from her pussy makes his head turn and breathe heavily for the girl he’s about to eat tonight tastes delicious. He licks and licks the girl, not listening to her moaning, not minding if she’s calling his name. The way he licked the girl was like he was having ice cream on a hot summer, sucking her arousal and putting pressure on her clit. Unaware of what’s happening to the girl, he didn’t care if she already came and overstimulated. Jaehyun continued licking his dinner even though the girl is pushing him already, but still having the time of her life. 

She then felt Jaehyun bite her clit and made her shout a little too loud that her voice echoed around 127 House. She propped her shoulder and saw Jaehyun’s eyes turned plain black. He smiled at her making the girl shout in horror and shout for her life but Jaehyun’s tongue is making her cum again for the second time tonight, harder than the first one she had. 

And that’s Jaehyun’s cue to eat her. Bit her off. Letting her blood pool around his dinner table. He ate her flesh by flesh, sipping every drop of her blood, chewing all her intestines, licking the flavor off her skin like an animal. He can feel himself glow as he continues to eat her. 

Pouring himself a glass of his favorite wine, he looks at his reflection through the goblet and admires his handsomeness. Skin clearer as ever, eyes without dark circles, firm ass. He smiled to himself as he feels much more alive and young now. Jaehyun went back to the dead body on his table, kissing the girl on the cheek and thanking her for making him handsome.  

That is Jaehyun’s life for the past decade. Murder to survive, eat humans, earn money, and repeat it. No thrill. Even getting caught is no fun for him because he can easily eat the witness. But living in this world full of emotions and Jaehyun is indeed a curious demon, he wanted to try to fall in love. Maybe he wants it because he’s been eating girls who are desperate for love and that’s making him desperate too. You see when he eats humans, he eats their emotions too and in that way, he learned feeling things. Anger, fear, happiness. All kinds. 

Three weeks after Halloween, he found this one of a kind service that he’s very much interested in. Just like every other human who likes their food clean, Jaehyun likes his human clean too. 

We offer house services just contact us and book someone you prefer. We guarantee clean and respectful girls....

Reading the brochure of that sex club who offers special services is like reading a menu in an expensive restaurant. Maybe it’s time to give up Tinder, stop ordering cheap food, and start feeding on expensive ones.

Just in time for his feeding again, the university kept him busy and so he did not have time to eat and settle for human food instead. That’s why he looks awful now. His hair is starting to fall out, his fair skin has acne, dark circles under his eyes, some of his toenails are falling off. He’s becoming weak, and he needs to eat soon.

“Y/n honey, you have a schedule for tonight. A big spender this one.... huh. He paid an overnight promo and even gave you a tip. Wow he’s rich” 

As you listen more of the details from the lady at the front desks, you thanked the man mentally who gave you a generous tip that will go straight to your savings, rent, and water bill. Not that you love this job of yours, but you’re excited to meet the big spender and treat him well just so he can get his money’s worth.

While you were drying your hair, you heard your phone ding and it was from your client whom you look forward to meeting. “I’ll send an uber from your house to mine. See you later” it was a bit cold but usually, your clients will just send you the address and it’s your duty not to be late for the appointment. You smiled because he seems so thoughtful and a real gentleman, you became more excited about meeting him and looking forward to the sex.

When the uber driver dropped you off in front of a big white house, you thought that maybe it was a mistake that your date must have pinned the wrong address. You rang the doorbell just to make things sure. Asking never killed anybody. You wait for someone to open the door to you, biting your lower lip while scanning the outside of the beautiful house. 

“You must be Y/n” the man who opened the door said. Well, that makes things official. You’re in the right place. 

“Yes...uhh, sir Yoonoh?” his weak state is bothering you. He doesn’t look like he can fuck at all.

“Please call me Jaehyun. Yoonoh is my alias. Come in” 

The handsome man welcomes you warmly in his home, taking your coat and putting it in a cabinet near his door. He looks handsome but exhausted, coughing a little as he closes the cabinet door. “Are you okay? You look sick” you blurted out and your first words made the man smile. Different. You’re different. You don’t care how big the house is he thought, the first thing you did is care about him. “I’m fine. The weather has been affecting me lately but, I’m good. I hope you’re hungry, I made early dinner” He gave you a weak smile and coughed again. 

This customer of yours continues to surprise you. First the uber ride and now the early dinner. For the first time in your life, this wretched job doesn’t feel like a job at all. Jaehyun here made you feel like you’re here for a date and not just to fuck the whole night. You follow him to the kitchen to help him get the meals that he prepared for both of you. As much as you’re amazed by his cooking skills, you are more amazed by how he managed to cook a decent meal even though he’s weak. 

Jaehyun started small talk, as usual. Asking you questions before he kills you and making sure you don’t do drugs even though it’s stated clearly that the sex club has clean girls. He made you comfortable the whole dinner time and made sure you enjoy what he cooked for you. 

“What do you do outside this job of yours?” Jaehyun asked, cutting a piece of steak as he waits for your answer. 

“Nothing. I’m lifeless” you joked, “I take care of myself and save as much as I can so I can have a clean start, which reminds me thank you for the generous tip” 

When the air was finally dead, he put his hand on your knee, caress it softly until his hand reaches your upper thigh. You felt his hand shaking like he’s shivering but he’s not telling you. It seems like he’s forcing himself to push through having sex just so his money doesn’t go to waste. But you can’t let him. The man is obviously weak and sick, he will not enjoy the pleasure and his money’s worth. 

To his surprise, you cup his face and shook your head ‘no’. “We don’t have to do this today. We’ll end up being sick together on the next day, want that to happen?” he shook his head to answer your question, “I promise I won't tell the club and I will find a way for you to get what you paid for. The dinner is delicious by the way what herbs did you put here?” 

So much care for someone who kills to survive. He doesn't deserve any of your kindness. The demon is completely moved. When you were the one who initiated the small talk, Jaehyun realized how he loved sharing things that he does. Like how he likes his steak perfectly well done, he likes his alcohol old and cold, even told you that listening to Chet Baker while drinking wine is his favorite thing in the world. Talking too much about himself was never his thing when it comes to talking to his victims. Then he realized maybe you’re not one of them, that maybe for the first time he had a visitor comforting him instead of making him full. 

You were the first person who listened to him. His first friend.

Talking and sharing personal stuff with one of your clients was a big ‘no’ for you. But there’s something about Jaehyun that makes you feel that your secrets are safe with him, even though all you knew about him is his love for music and wine. As the night goes deeper, you two are still talking about random stuff and laughing loudly whenever something funny came up. It was nice. You caught yourself resting your head on his weak shoulders and loved his warmth. Hearing his soft voice near your ear is almost addicting even though he sounded weak. And seeing his smile up close and poking his dimples whenever you want to is a different kind of privilege. The night went on until you fall asleep on his shoulders, unconsciously hugging him like a teddy bear and putting your leg on top of his like you’ve known each other for so long.  

He was thinking deeply if he’s going to eat you or not. You are juicy for his taste, like a turkey on Thanksgiving. He removed some of your hair from your face, patting and caressing your head so he knows you’re in deep sleep. Carefully, he reached for your hand and played with your fingers, smelling it and still thinking it through. He put your pointer finger in his mouth, sucking it like a lollipop and tasting your flavor through your skin. You taste so good that his eyes turned into his demon eyes and his demon tongue is ready to taste more of you. But you smiled through the feeling of his tongue swirling around your finger and came closer to him. Unconsciously and still sleeping soundly.

He remembers how your kindness moved him, and how he felt important for the first time in his whole existence. Jaehyun shook his head and stopped attempting to eat you, wiped your fingers, and intertwined his fingers with yours instead. It’s weird how he’s so hungry but he can’t seem to kill you. 

To survive, Jaehyun went to the nearest bar and lured a hooker whom he killed in the back of his house. It was his first time killing quietly in his premisses, careful not to wake you up. Even though the human that he just ate doesn’t taste good, well, he just had to look presentable in your eyes the next morning.

When you wake up, you almost jumped out of bed because you thought you were in bed with a total stranger but turns out it was just Jaehyun. His skin is glowing under the morning sunlight, his cute snores make you smile, fucking pink lips begging to be kissed or it’s you who’s begging to be kissed… you smiled and brushed his hair away, accidentally waking the handsome man. 

“Morning” he murmured, pulling you for a hug and closing his eyes again but he was smiling. 

Even his breath smell nice, “feeling okay now?” you asked softly, not ruining the peaceful morning and nervously smiling brightly because the butterflies in your tummy won’t stop flapping their wings. 

“Yes. All thanks to you” he opened his eyes and admired your beauty. He can feel his heart thumping. “I think I owe you something” he kissed your lips passionately and pull your body above him making you put both your legs on his sides. He never left your lips as his hands roam on your sides requesting to remove your dress. With one swift move, you’re on top of the handsome man with your matching lacy underwear, bodies grinding on each other, moaning deliciously, and about to have morning sex. “I’ve seen a lot of naked girls before but none of them made me horny like you do” you giggle at what he said, if every client you had is like Jaehyun, you don’t mind staying on this wretched job forever. 

It’s not that Jaehyun is a virgin. This is just his first time having sex without killing the one he’s fucking. Watching you cum above and underneath him without going in for the kill was satisfying and almost addicting. Not to mention that your walls feel amazing around his cock. Warm and tight that he never wants to pull out from you. 

You, on the other hand, is so surprised by how Jaehyun is so great in bed like he was craving sex. Every lustful thrust he gives makes you gasp and it just takes your breath away. The way he held your leg up, fuck you deep that you’re skin to skin, makes you claw his back and grip the sheets so tightly that you hurt your hand. He never slowed down but he was not rough enough, he was making you feel good the whole fucking time that you made sounds you never thought you’re capable of. On top of that, his sweet words are making you feel things. 

After the most amazing sex you both have in your entire life, he can’t let go of you even just for a second. He’s glued to your body while you make him breakfast, “Can I see you more in my clothes?” he whispered behind your ear, hands resting on the side of your waist while he distracts you with his kisses, blowing cold air on your nape to tickle you and make you giggle. 

And when it’s time to go, he was begging you with all his might to stay. “I have to work, Jae” it’s true. And being with Jaehyun made you forget that you’re here for work, he completely changed that. If it wasn’t for your work you will give in and stay. 

“Okay, okay. I understand. Have dinner with me this weekend? I’ll cook for you again, I’ll make it up to you” to be honest, he was afraid you might not come back here.

“Mhmm. I’d love to” you left a soft kiss on his cheek and opened his door. You are the first person who steps inside his house that comes out alive and well. 

As you leave Jaehyun in his house, he was quick to call the sex club again and book you for tonight. The service was really expensive but as he talks to the person in charge of your schedule, you were worth every dime of his hard earned money from the university.

Happy about how your schedule with Jaehyun went, and happy that you met him, your friend from the front desks informed you of your new client for tonight and you screamed because of too much happiness when he used his real name to book you.

When you got home to prepare for yet another night with Jaehyun, you’ve never been so excited about meeting a client for the second time around. Thinking about how his lips travel in between the valley of your boobs the other night, that sweet handsome smile whenever he catches you looking at him, the way he makes your heart flutter during breakfast with his sweet words. This is definitely a good start to give love a chance and you’re stupid if you let something like this slip from your hands.

When the most awaited time finally came, Jaehyun was over the moon and blushing like crazy when he saw you again at his doorstep. This time, it’s not food he sees but a woman who will love him and will change his life. And if you used to smell so tasty and delicious for Jaehyun well now, you smell like love and new beginnings for him. You were the epitome of change, stepping into his house and in his whole life. 

Your second night together was a hundred times better than the first even if it’s storming like crazy outside. It’s like going on an indoor date with Jaehyun, eating a delicious dinner, and drinking good wine together. Rather than having sex the whole evening, you and Jaehyun spend the night cuddling on his huge couch. Talking about life under a cozy blanket that he owns, creating your own special warmth.

“What if you became broke because of me?” you asked and snuggled closely. 

“Hmm. Well, then I just have to work more. Get five jobs” he joked but he sounded serious. 

“My job will be a great problem if we continue this. I don’t want to hurt you-“ 

“Hey, no one is hurting anyone. I respect your line of work and I understand the reason why you’re doing it. Until then I just have to wait for you just like the other guys. I have long patience, it’s not a problem” Jaehyun says and boops your nose.

And that is the start of your new life with Jaehyun. Your life is all about him and he is all about you. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. Jaehyun is still in love with the same woman who rang his doorbell and cared for him for the first time in his life. After a few months of looking for a job that does not include having sex with different men, you finally left the club and go home to Jaehyun every day. 

Peaceful and quiet mornings are now replaced by Jaehyun’s disturbing kisses while you make him coffee. Leaving each other for work during the morning has been your daily struggle. But the promise of seeing each other at the end of the day is something so hard but worth it in the end.

Slowly, you changed each other’s lives. Loving each other deeply more and more, trying new things together, and loving life even when it’s incredibly tough sometimes. It was more than just flirting with each other, going on dates, and having a lot of sex.  

Saying that he’s in love with you and showing it every day is still not enough for Jaehyun to prove you his love. He loves you so much that for the first time in his life he doesn’t want to go back to where he came from anymore. He wants to stay here with you. Live happily, marry you someday, have kids, and be with you until your dying breath. 

“Why do you want so many kids?” you asked, drawing small circles on his toned chest while his right arm is securely wrapped around you.

“Kids are great especially when we are the ones who made them. Don’t you think?” He reached for your lips and kissed you. 

“Promise me you’ll be a great dad. And you will never leave me or- or our future children alone. You’re a great man Jaehyun and my heart will break in a million pieces if you hurt me too like my dad” you were so full of emotions. You remember how your father left you and your family and it made your mother suffer. Jaehyun was quiet and he listened to you. Your feelings were so important to him so he did not dare interrupt and waited for you to finish. 

“We will be happy, I promise. Watch me love you every day and fulfill all my promises to you”

The problem is... he can't tell you the truth about himself. Jaehyun is scared to the bone that you might not accept him. The truth about him is never easy to accept and he doesn’t want to give you that burden. Having a demon eating humans to survive is something unacceptable even when love is already involved. But he has faith in you. Someday, maybe he will be brave enough to tell you. But not now. 

Dating you made his feeding a little hard because it’s basically cheating. He loves you so much that he despises being a demon and eating humans just to stay alive. Sometimes, he starves himself that he trie so hard to live on raw meat but it only lasts a few hours and it frustrates him greatly. He doesn’t want to meet other girls anymore and pretend that he’s interested in them, he wanted so bad to stop using Tinder. But he can’t. You don’t deserve a demon like him but he loves you and he’s sorry. 

Even though you don’t know anything about Jaehyun’s real being, he never hurt you like one of your exes and he’s much a greater man than all of those jerks combined. He is the only man you see your future with, growing old together, having coffee on your porch, racking your chairs, and hopefully die together. Your heart can’t take it if Jaehyun dies before you. That’s how much you love him. 

Four years ago

After a tiring day at the office, you’re so thankful that your house is quiet and peaceful, away from the noise of the city. You went straight to the bathroom, prepared the tub, and treat yourself to a nice warm bath with a glass of wine on the side. 

“Y/n, you home?” Jaehyun put his keys on the table next to the entrance and removed his coat. He just came back from burying the bones of the three girls he just ate at the back of 127 House. Tricked them into having a foursome but even before they could remove their clothes, Jaehyun killed them already and ate them all until their bones are clean and easy to bury.

“In here” you shout while you put more bubbles in the tub. Jaehyun soon appeared and leaned on the bathroom door. “I just got home from work baby, hows the university?” you invited him inside and he greets you with a kiss on the cheek and proceeds to strip in front of you. For a university teacher, your boyfriend sure does look so hot. 

“Nothing special. Students flirting with me, then I fail them” he giggles and joins you in the tub. Sitting behind you and pulling you against his strong chest. He plays with your wedding ring and intertwines his fingers with yours. Home is where Jaehyun is. He is the best thing about this house, coming home to him and enjoy this little world. 

It was a silent moment for the two of you but you can hear him thanking you for staying in his life. Jaehyun’s eyes screams ‘i love you’ whenever he’s quiet and smirking liking this. 

“Why are you always like that. You know you can always say it. Three words Jae, I love you. Were married already and you never said it to me-“ 

“But I always show it to you” he giggles and puts bubbles on top of your head and your cheeks, laughing because you look funny. “You will get sick of me if I start telling you those words. That’s why I show you instead. Those are powerful words Y/n, I’m saving it. Trust me, once I told you those words, you will fall in love with me. Again” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. Facing him completely to clean him up.

“Do you fall in love with me over and over again whenever I tell you, I love you?” you asked. Looking in his eyes and brushing your wet lips on his. Touching. But not kissing. You can feel your boyfriend’s heartbeat so fast as you wait for his answer. 

“Every time. Like you just walked into this house for the first time again” he smiled and flashed those cute dimples of his and kissed you down the tub until the water overflows and the candles are one by one dying because of the waters splashing.  

Two years of happily dating through ups and downs. And two years of being happily married and you still don’t know what you did to deserve someone like Jaehyun. He’s beyond perfect. Like someone made him as a character in a book and poof he became real and find his way to you. “I love you” you whisper. And even though you won’t get a response, you know that Jaehyun does love you too. 

One day, your boss made you left work early because he wanted you to go overtime the next day. So you did. You wanted to surprise your husband with his favorite take-out and spend a nice dinner with him. When you arrived in his driveway, you see his car badly parked on his huge lawn. You made your way quietly inside the house and went straight to the kitchen to put the food on the counter. 

You heard continuous thumps upstairs, not quite sure from which room. As you walked towards the stairs, you heard another thump followed by a high pitched moan and, “Jaehyun! Don’t stop!” then another thump. At first, you didn’t want to walk further closer to the room where you believe Jaehyun is fucking someone because you didn’t want to see it. But you are his wife and you have every right to call him out even though it hurts you so much knowing that Jaehyun is capable of cheating. You can’t believe it. 

As you peek at the door from his study room, you watch Jaehyun eat a girl’s pussy on his table. She looked young. Younger than you and maybe that’s why he cheated. The girl is very much overstimulated and can’t stay put so Jaehyun roughly holds her down while keeping her legs open. You watch Jaehyun hold her so harshly and wonder if your husband has always been into rough sex, “ouch!” she says loudly. 

Jaehyun stopped licking her and proceeds to kiss her neck. At this point, you don’t know why you’re still watching your husband cheat when everything is all clear. 

“FUCK!!!!!” 

Hearing the girl scream like that made you stop from shouting and calling your husband a cheater. Because, lo and behold you witnessed your husband murder her. Biting her by the neck and choking her down so her body won't slip off his table. You gasped sharply when you saw Jaehyun ripped her stomach and reach in for her intestines. Covering your mouth with both of your hands as you can’t believe what you were watching. You would rather face the problem of your husband cheating on you, but murder? Devilry? Seeing him became a creature eating a human felt like you’re watching a horror movie and made you think that you don’t know Jaehyun anymore. Or did you ever? 

As you watch him eat her and be scared for your life, you notice that Jaehyun’s face is slowly changing… “This can’t be” you murmured and fainted hitting your head first, making Jaehyun turn around with shock. Jaehyun didn’t know what to do. Usually, he eats the witness too but this time he can’t. Of course, he can’t eat you. 

 Every bit of the truth was too much for you. Even when you know that he is sincere with everything that he says to you about his true being. 

You married a demon. How can Jaehyun expect you to accept this? 

“Well, what did you want me to tell you? ‘I’m a demon and I eat humans to survive?’ I’m telling you now and you won't even look at me” Jaehyun was so frustrated already. It’s been a week since he told you the truth and to be honest he doesn’t know what you want him to do or to hear from him.  

“It hurts me to see you all scared and disgusted to me, baby. I'm not forcing you to be with me and stay- but fuck I’m still Jaehyun. My feelings for you are true and my love for you is undying. Please don’t do this to us and don’t do this to yourself. You can leave, but please think about our years together” he kissed you on your temple and noticed that your grip on the knife is so tight that your hand is already shaking. Tears fall down your cheeks and you don’t know what it's made of. Was it because you’re scared? Heartbroken? Or confused because you don’t know what to do. 

You love him but you’re scared. And that thought alone can make your knees weak and your mind go crazy. 

Since you knew about the truth, your marriage went downhill and the house became cold and unwelcoming. A once fire burning relationship is now cold as ice. You decided to leave Jaehyun even when you made a promise to him. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. 

For you, leaving was a mixture of loneliness, heartbreak, and disappointment. But for Jaehyun, he was lost, miserable, and incomplete. He wanted to starve himself and never eat humans from now on but he still wants to live for you. Hope and wait for you to come back in his life. 

After leaving Jaehyun, you took care of yourself and went to therapy. But a few days after, you found out that you’re pregnant for almost two weeks already and once again you feel cheated in life because you could have had a family of your own and be happy in life. Just how you and Jaehyun planned it to be.   

It’s Halloween tonight and Jaehyun just finished eating. He has no appetite, to be honest, and only ate a pair of arms. Then that’s it. He can’t eat the human further, still weak, and still looked like shit. He’s cleaning the mess he made on the kitchen counter, dumping a half-eaten body in a trash bag, and scrubbing blood off the floor when his doorbell rang and expected trick or treaters. He brought the bowl of candies with him, head towards the door, and opened it with a smile. But his smile was soon gone when he saw you on his doorstep, completely clueless on what to do because he wanted to hug and kiss you but he can’t. 

“I shouldn’t have left you-“ 

Glass and candies shattered on the floor and neither one of you cared. Jaehyun hugged you tightly and apologized over and over again while he showers you with kisses. Smiling so brightly but both of you have heavy tears in your eyes. 

The feeling of entering his house for the first time again after leaving him for only two weeks almost felt like the very first time. “Are you okay? You look sick” you worry for your husband and it made you feel like a shitty wife because you didn’t even consider his feelings. He was struggling too. 

“Welcome home” Jaehyun sobs and pull you inside the house. He kissed you deeply and showed you how much he misses you, lifting you, and bringing you to your shared bedroom with all the strength he has left. 

He removed your clothes and his clothes without leaving your lips which he missed kissing. You kept your eyes closed until you’re ready to open them again because you can’t help but see the demon who’s eating humans to survive. “It’s still me” Jaehyun whispers, kissing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “Nothings changed, baby. I’m still the Jaehyun who paid the sex club just so I can spend time with you” he waits patiently for you to open your eyes, hoping that makeup sex will somehow fix your marriage again. You wrapped your arms around him when you feel him go in between your legs.

Slowly, you open your eyes and breathe in and out. “I’m pregnant” you whisper back, kissing him softly. He did not say anything but you know that Jaehyun is more than happy to hear the news. 

“Is that why you came back? You want us to be a family?” he smiles and you answer with a quick nod. He kisses your neck all the way to your jaw, down to the valley between your boobs, and ends up in front of your pussy. At first, he was hesitating and kept on kissing your inner thighs but you seem eager, you roll hips continuously waiting for Jaehyun to make a move. 

“Oooohh-” you moan out so deliciously, holding Jaehyun’s head in between your legs, raking his hair and tugging his locks every now and then. Before you even cum he stopped eating you out and went back to your lips. He ate you so good that you can taste yourself through his lips. He lines his cock and watches it disappear as he pushes deep inside you. You gasped and breathed heavily, gripping the sheets more when he starts drawing circles on your clit sinfully. He missed how your walls feel around him, biting his lower lip as he doubles his pace and dive in pleasure head first.  

You reached for Jaehyun’s lips when you hit your high and asked him to, “Slow down. I want to savor you” he giggled and followed your request, kissing you more as he slowly fucks you while you enjoy your high and until he catches his own. He noticed there’s tears in your eyes when he pulled out and asked you, “what’s wrong baby? Talk to me” he kept you close to his tired and weak body, covering you both with the thick duvet and enjoying this special warmth. 

“I’m sorry for distancing myself Jae, I’m sorry for leaving you” He can’t forgive himself hearing you apologize to him when it’s his fault your marriage was ruined. Jaehyun told you that he will stop eating humans until he finds an alternative. And to make things lighter, he thought of baby names until you two fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

The plan worked. 

When Jaehyun was in deep sleep, you went downstairs to get a knife. The sharpest one that can slit his throat in one go and bravely go on with your plan on killing your husband. As you placed the sharp knife on Jaehyun’s throat, it was so sharp that he is cut already and it woke him up. 

Jaehyun opened his eyes and see you holding a knife on his throat, tears falling from your eyes, and obviously hesitating if you’re going to do it. Your husband saw your struggle. The deep shit he put you through. You don’t deserve any of this. If being dead can bring you peace in his life and healing, then so be it.

“It’s okay” he calms you down and holds your wrist, gripping the knife with you. His hand feels cold already. “burn the house and don’t let anyone see you leave here so you won't be accused over anything. I love you and I'm sorry” 

It was the first time you heard those three words from Jaehyun and he was right. You remembered how much you love him like waking up in an awful curse but you’re too late. Jaehyun slit his own throat while still holding the knife with you. 

Regret hit you like a train and all you can do is cry over Jaehyun’s dead body. 

The sun is almost up and you can’t be seen leaving 127 House because there are two dead bodies in this house. You kissed Jaehyun’s corpse and removed his wedding ring from his finger. The only thing that will prove he existed in your life.  

You used the gasoline for the barbecue party scheduled before Christmas, sobbed uncontrollably as you think all the memories you had with Jaehyun. His weak smile during the night you first met him, the first time his lips touched yours, all the plans and dreams you both had, how Jaehyun is always full of life when it comes to planning on having a baby… 

But you killed him. And you’re about to burn the house and all the memories it holds like it’s just an unwanted photograph. After lighting the match, you drove away from the house as far as you can crying while you focus on the road and trying to find your way back to your old apartment. 

As the sun goes up and slowly light up the sky, the image of 127 House burning flashes in front of your eyes and it made you pull over on the side road and take your time to cry. You feel Jaehyun’s cold lips on yours as you imagine his body being eaten by fire. 

Halloween present time 

“But did the demon really died mommy?” your daughter asked. Eager to hear the answer to her question. Until now telling her the story about Jaehyun, without the gory details and sex part of course, still gives you goosebumps. “You never answer my question. You’ve been telling me this story since I was six, I’m nine years old now. Please please please, answer the question” she added. 

“Wow look who we have here” he knocked before coming in, “can I come in princess?” 

“Of course daddy. Mommy, won’t tell me the ending of the demon eating-human” your daughter whines. You and Jaehyun just laughed at her and snuggled all together in her small bed. 

“He didn’t. Now, will you please sleep?” he strokes his daughter’s soft hair, “mommy is tired already and I’m here to get her. Can I?” 

“How can you be so sure he didn’t die?” you and Jaehyun groaned together. 

“Okay. That’s it good night. No more stories. We love you, sleep well okay?” Jaehyun used his fatherly might and stopped his own daughter from bugging you both. She’s quite a handful sometimes. You and Jaehyun gave her a good night kiss and left her to sleep. 

EXPLANATION

Jaehyun got out from the fire because he’s a demon and demons are immune from fire. He is a smart demon (btw he’s a university professor) so he found the reader again and incase you missed it, the reader regrets it because he loves Jaehyun so much. 

Check the comments section for other answered questions. 

Thank you for reading! 

[inomios]

Eight types of love II Levi Ackerman

Summary: “There are eight types of love, and even though his life has been full of pain since the very beginning, he could say he experienced them all.”

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word count: + 5k

Author note: This is the first thing I’ve ever published and I’m really nervous, so I would really appreciate if you reblogged, liked and commented. Also, English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Constructive criticism is really appreciated.

                                                           . . . . 

1. AGAPE or Selfless love

           His mother would tell him everyday that she loved him with everything she had, even though it was not a lot. He asked his mother what love was, what meant loving someone. She couldn’t explain it with exact words, she would tell him that love meant caring deeply for someone, even more than for yourself. She loved him and he loved her, that much was true. He asked if he could love more than one person, his mom told him that yes, you could love many people in your life and in different ways. Then, he proceeded to ask if she had ever loved anyone else besides him, she was quiet, like she was thinking the right answer and after a few minutes she said that she had or at least she thought she did, but she had never loved someone as much as she loved him. Love was a confusing thing for him and the more he asked, the more unclear it got.

          The only thing he was sure of was that the only thing she loved was her mother. However, curious as he was, he would ask her questions about it all the time.

         ‘Is love the best thing in the world?’ 

        ‘Yes, Levi, it is the only thing that makes life worth it.’

        ‘Is love always good?’ 

       ‘Not always, sometimes it makes you sad.’

       ‘I don’t wanna be sad. I won’t love anyone else but you.’ 

      ‘You can’t choose who you love, sweetie.’

      ‘Love sucks.’ 

     ‘You will get it when you grow up.’

     ‘I’m already a grown-up.’

     He tried to get it, but he couldn’t. He prided himself of being smart, his mom would always tell him that he was really clever and witty for his age. Then, how come he wasn’t able to understand love. It was just a four-letter word: L-O-V-E, it couldn’t have such a deep meaning. ‘Door’ had also four letters and it wasn’t hard to understand and ‘Scandalous’, pretty much the biggest word for him, had ten letters and he knew what it meant, he could even use it in a phrase.

      His mom, noticing that he was about to collapse trying to figure out what has love, tried to come up with the best possible definition, one that would please his five-year old son.

    ‘Love is a selfless thing. Love means giving everything you have, to make the other person happy and content, even though you may not get back all you give. When you love someone, you only what the best for them. It can cause you pain too but loving someone and being loved back is one of the best things we can experience as humans. We may not have a lot, Levi, but we have each other and more important, we love one another and that makes us privileged.’

     He understood it then, kind of, so the questions stopped.

     However, when his mother’s body laid lifeless in bed, he regretted not making one last question: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

     Later, when he was under Kenny’s wing and after Kenny had left him at his own, he soon found an answer: no one would.

2. PHILIA or Affectionate love

           After his mother’s death, after Kenny, after everything, he thought that love was out of his reach, something he could never have again. Then Isabel and Farlan happened.

           Every single day since his mother died, he would ask himself if he would love again and if someone would love him back. However, at the same time, he wanted to know nothing about love, love brought pain and he had already suffered enough for a lifetime. He sometimes thought that he had an emptiness inside, a big hole where his heart should be, a room so big that no one could ever fill.

           After his mom came Kenny, but he was sure he did not love him, at least not like he had loved his mother, and he was sure as hell Kenny did not love him back. Love was supposed to be selfless and caring and Kenny was selfish and did not give a damn about him, he proved him that when he left him alone, again.

           Loneliness was a feeling he was already used to but being used to it didn’t mean he liked it. Then again, who would be dumb enough to love him? And he knew better than to love someone who would end up leaving him, like his mother did, like Kenny did.

           Well, maybe he did love Kenny, but loving him was painful. While loving his mother was sweet, freeing and it brought him solace and comfort; loving Kenny was toxic and tough, when he thought about it, it troubled him. He gave him a home and he taught him how to survive in the Underground, he didn’t know why, but he raised him, and Kenny never did something freely, he was sure something was missing there, but he didn’t know what. It was stupid of him to think that he cared about him, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Loving Kenny, seeing him as the paternal figure he never had, filled him with turmoil and changed the way he perceived love.

           Love was weakness, it could bring you to your knees, he had learned that. It was pointless, why would you commit to something that would inevitably bring you sorrow? He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again, he knew better, the only person who would stay with him was himself and that wasn’t about to change.

           Then Isabel and Farlan walked into his life. Well, Farlan walked, Isabel stumbled.

           They became family. He knew better but he couldn’t help it. They were thick as thieves, literally. Suddenly, they became the family he yearned for since his mother died. He loved them with everything he had. Loving them was selfless as his mother said, he wanted the best for them, he wanted to see them happy, no matter the price. However, it was a different kind of love, it was pure affection. It wasn’t the adoration he had for his mother, nor the rage he felt for Kenny. It was tender and sweet, he never had a brother or a close friend to care about while growing up, but he thought it was supposed to feel like that, it had to be like that. It had to be another type of love. His mother told him that love was never the same, it had different shapes and, for him, at that moment love had Isabel and Farlan’s shape.

           Sadly, nothing good lasts forever, at least not for him. Love causes pain and brings you to your knees, he shouldn’t have forgotten that. When he saw Isabel’s head laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of her own blood, mouth agape, eyes wide open and pale face, he fell to his knees. He saw a supercut of him, Isabel and Farlan, all the good times, all the laughs they shared and all the stories they still had to write but they would never be able to do because they weren’t there, not anymore, they were gone like his mother, like Kenny. He was alone again.

           Love always brought him to his knees and he would never forget it again. He wasn’t made for love; the same way love wasn’t made for him.

3. LUDUS or Playful love

           Meeting you happened out of pure coincidence, being in the right place at the wrong time.

           He had come from a long mission and he was completely and utterly fine, seriously, but Hange loved to make a big deal out of everything. Well, maybe he had an injury, but a minor one, nothing that he couldn’t take care of himself. He spent years in the Underground, he didn’t need a doctor, he could stitch himself up and place his bones back in place. However, Hange didn’t think the same and was nagging him about getting his injuries checked, so there he was, in one of the infirmary’s bed, waiting for the head doctor.

           It wasn’t that he was scared of doctors or “hospitals”, he just didn’t like the idea of some stranger touching him or feeling hopeless and powerless, he didn’t like feeling like he needed help or advice, he could do it pretty much on his own. But Hange didn’t really trust his medical abilities and he knew that arguing with her was pointless.

           ‘Doctor Brunner couldn’t come since he is busy with some paperwork, so he sent me. I’m his trainee y/n y/ln.’ 

           ‘I’m not letting some failed attempt of medic treat my wounds.’

           It wasn’t what people would call a ‘meet cute’ moment, it was more like a ‘meet jerk’. He wasn’t the best dealing with people, nor that he wanted to be, he preferred it that way. If you had been any other person, you wouldn’t have bitten back, but you had a sharp tongue and weren’t scared of him. That was probably what drew him in, he was so used to people recoiling in fear when they saw him that having someone that actually fought back was quite alluring.

           ‘Well, this failed attempt of a doctor knows more than you ever will, so act your age, stop being a bitch and let me tend your injuries.’

           ‘You have some nerve talking to me like that.’ 

           ‘You have some nerve coming to my workplace to insult me.’

           During that first encounter none of you said much to each other. He wasn’t fond on talking and you didn’t like his attitude, so you didn’t try to strike a conversation. He had to admit that you were good at you job, you tended him with care and you knew what you were doing, not that he would tell you, at least not yet.

           ‘Well, not so bad for a failed attempt of a doctor.’

           It was the closest thing to a compliment he could say, and it looked like you knew, because he swears that he saw you smile a little.

           ‘Aren’t you a pleasure to work with? The injury in your arm was pretty nasty and poorly treated, so luckily for you, you will have to drop by more times to check on you. These are my hours, if you want this failed attempt of a doctor to treat you, Captain. I could get used to see your friendly face now and then.’

           He didn’t know if the last part was supposed to be interpreted as flirting, but he did come back to visit you, to keep an eye of his injury, obviously. However, if you asked Hange, she would say that you had caught his eye, he still says that at that point in your relationship you annoyed him too much to find himself interested in you.

           His weekly visits turned into daily visits, so much for not liking you.

           ‘I’m starting to think I’ve managed to catch your attention, Captain.’ 

          ‘Tch, you’re just less annoying than the rest of the brats.’ 

          ‘Oh Captain, you really know how to make me blush.’

           He lied. You did catch his attention and you both knew it. It wasn’t love, not at all, it was a gentle curiosity that grew a little bit every day, like a flower blossoming.

           ‘Tch, you only know to say shit with that mouth of yours.’ 

           ‘This mouth of mine knows to do a lot of things, want me show you, Captain?’

           ‘When you return from the expedition, you have to come to the infirmary to see your wounds and stop playing the hero, it’s bullshit.’ 

            ‘I’m starting to think you may have an obsession for doing check-ups on me, brat.’ 

           ‘You caught me, I only do them because I can’t keep my hands of you, Captain.’

         ‘Why do you always call me Captain? It’s annoying, I’m not your superior.’

        ‘I know, but I like teasing you with it, Captain.’

        He cared for you more than he cared for other people in his life, he liked being with you, maybe that was another type of love. Loving his mother was selfless; loving Isabel and Farlan was affectionate; loving you, or whatever the hell he was felling, was playful, flirty and it filled him with joy.

       Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was getting there.

4. MANIA or Obsessive love

           Your relationship was frustrating everybody, absolutely every single person that knew about you two, everybody knew you had feelings for each other but none of you did something about it, you just kept tiptoeing around each other. It was painful to see. They didn’t know if you were oblivious, stupid, scared or if you were just messing with them, Hange believed the latter one because there was no way you two weren’t together already. The banter, the flirty remarks, the way he looked out for you and the way you took care of him.

           ‘What’s going on with you and y/n, Shorty?’ 

           ‘You tell me, Four-eyes’

           ‘Tell me the truth, y/n. Are you and Levi dating and just keeping it as a secret? Because I’m losing my mind.’ 

           ‘We aren’t dating, Hange.’

           To be honest, Levi was losing his mind too. The playful game turned into something more serious, something more obsessive and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and what were you doing while he was busy with paperwork. On missions his mind wandered about your wellbeing and if you were fine. He couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat became erratic whenever you were close to him or the way he would notice every single thing about you. He felt powerless, there was no way to stop it.

           He, who always had a plan and knew to do, was helpless under something he could have prevented, or at least something he think he could have avoided. Deep down he knew that he would have fallen for you one way or another, some things are bound to happen, and love is one of them, but he didn’t want to admit that something as mundane as love could outpower him in his own life.

           He was aware of how you felt about him, you weren’t scared to be vocal about it and it drove him mad, and by the way his stoic eyes would gleam and glisten while looking at you, you were certain it was mutual. He knew that if he said the word or gave you signal, you’d be his and he’d be yours, but he couldn’t give you what you wanted, and it was a matter of time before you got tired of him. You were young and beautiful, one the most outstanding creatures he had ever seen, you could do better than him and you’d realize soon enough. Life was too short to waste it on him.

           ‘What are you waiting for, Levi? Do something about it because it’s getting painful to watch.’ 

           ‘Get off my fucking case, Four-eyes.’

           Everyone was waiting for him to do something, but he couldn’t. In those moments he remembered the question he wasn’t able to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’ His mother loved him, and she died, just like Isabel and Farlan, he couldn’t love you, because he’ll end up losing you, the same way he lost everyone else.

           He was loveless.

           But you weren’t, and you found someone to do what he couldn’t do, someone to love you like you deserved.

           He didn’t know a lot about them. You looked happier and that was all he cared about. He thought that seeing you with another person would calm his heart and his desires, but they only got worse, there was no way of forgetting about you. You were everywhere.

           ‘C’mon Levi, do something.’ 

          ‘Didn’t I tell you to drop it, Hange?’

           His visits stopped but you kept waiting for him, hoping he would come to his senses. You didn’t get it, you really didn’t. He had the opportunity, he could have taken the chance to be with you, but he didn’t, so you moved on, or tried to, you didn’t love your partner, but you could see yourself falling in love with them. However, you still missed Levi, not as a potential lover, but as a friend. The way he erased you from his life as you were nothing broke your heart. What did he want from you?

           He wanted everything. He wanted all of you and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He was just frozen in time while you kept moving. He met your partner, they came to visit you once, they were gentle and loving, they looked at you like you were the brightest star in the firmament. They held your hand and kissed your lips. They did all the things he wanted to do. He was jealous, but he didn’t have the right to say something, he had never had the right.

           The way he looked at you made you feel guilty, like you were betraying him, and you were so confused and annoyed and angry and mad, and you really wanted to punch him in the face. So, you went to his room that night and stormed in.

           ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ 

           ‘I should be asking that, I’m not the one barging in someone else’s room with no previous invitation.’

           He had never seen you like that, so mad and full of rage and it was all directed to him and he knew it was his fault.

           ‘What do you want of me, Levi?’

           He wanted everything.

           He wanted you.

           ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Could you please stop making me lose my time?’

           He saw it in your face, that was the last straw.

           ‘You’re selfish, an asshole, a prick and a lot of other things. But above it all, you’re a fucking coward, so much for Humanity’s Strongest. For fucks sake, Levi, I loved you, I still do, but I can’t keep waiting for someone who is too scared to do something about it. I want you and you want me too. What’s stopping you?’

           He remembered again, the question he never had the chance to ask: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

           You loved him and you weren’t scared of it. But he was, and you were about to leave the room. You turned your back on him and it was now or never. He had to choose: would he let you walk away definitely of his life or would he do something?

           For once, he didn’t think, he didn’t listen to his head, he listened to his heart. For so long he made himself believe that he didn’t have a heart, but his heart was right there, beating for you.

           He kissed you and you kissed him back.

           ‘Mine.’ 

          ‘Yours.’

5. EROS or Passionate love

           You both were private people, you didn’t want people talking about your relationship during its first stages, what you had was precious and new and you wanted to protect it from the world a little longer. That’s why no one really knew about the whole ordeal, well, they knew that something had shifted because you could be in the same room without making everyone uncomfortable with your unsolved issues, but they couldn’t pinpoint what had exactly changed, they just guessed that you sorted everything out, finally.

           However, Hange did know what changed. She prided herself on knowing Levi, after many years working with him she had learned that Levi only talked through his body language, so she started paying attention to what his body said instead of listening to the words he spewed. Therefore, when she asked him if he was dating you and he said a short no, he knew he was lying. She noticed how he seemed more at ease, how you had broken up with your partner, the way he would gravitate towards you and that when he looked at you, his eyes weren’t filled with longing and remorse, they were shinier and less cold than usual. So, she obviously knew that something was up, but she kept quiet. She may talk way too much, and people could find her annoying, but at the end of the day she was a good friend, and she would respect that neither of you wanted to make things public.

           Keeping things private was harder than he originally thought, he was distant and cold to everyone, but he couldn’t be cold and distant with you when you made him burn inside and he could only think about holding you close. It was weird for him, he had spent so many years deprived of touch that he couldn’t imagine himself getting addicted to it, but he was wrong, so wrong.

           You knew that Levi was touch starved, you didn’t need to be a genius to notice. When you picked up his body language and started hearing about his childhood, everything came together: his mother died when he was very young, the most paternal figure he had was toxic and abusive to him and since Isabel and Farlan he didn’t let anyone in easily. Levi wasn’t used to someone doting him and you knew that if you started showering him with affection, it would probably scare him off a little, and that was the last thing you wanted. So, you started slowly: holding hands, gentle caresses, kisses in his cheek, hugs, light pecks on the lips and when you saw that he started getting more comfortable, things started scaling on their own, you let him mark the pace. It wasn’t a quick process, but it was worth it.

           After a few months, Levi couldn’t keep his hands of you and he surely didn’t want you to keep your hands off him. This was a new kind of love, at first, on the early stages of your relationship it was playful, but then it evolved into something more passionate: quick pecks turned into open mouthed kisses; holding hands innocently turned into holding you close while you came undone under him again and again; kisses now went lower and lower, exploring new parts of you that he hadn’t seen and that no one else would. He didn’t think that touch could mean so much to him, but it did now, and he knew that couldn’t ever go back to a touchless life where you wouldn’t be there to love him.

6. PHILAUTIA or Self-love

          He wasn’t neither deaf, blind or stupid. He could hear what people had to say about your relationship, how you deserved better than him; he could see his reflection on the mirror and how he wasn’t beautiful, at least not as much as you, he wasn’t the male that would make people swoon and he knew that you could have any man or female you wanted, but you chose him, out of every other person, you decided to be with him. He was a lucky bastard and you didn’t make good decisions, what a match.

           You would look at him like he held the stars in the sky, and you would touch him like he was about to disappear in any moment, as if he were a dream you were afraid to wake up from. He didn’t get why him, he wasn’t the most handsome, nor the nicest, nor the easiest to love, and you still decided to keep him around. He liked to think that he was smart or cleverer than the average, and yet he couldn’t grasp his head around that the fact you loved him and just him, and that was it, it was as simple as that.

           Whenever you heard the things people said about your partner, you went feral, because you knew all those comments fueled the self-hate Levi had. Being loveless for so long it obviously affected the perception he had of himself and you wanted to change that, because he deserved it, he deserved all the happiness in this dull world. He liked to play strong, but you saw through him, and even though he never acted upon them, it hurt him. You wished he could see himself through you eyes, because it caused you pain the mere idea of him thinking less of himself, that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

           You would tell him every day how much you loved him, as if you were reciting a prayer to your own god.

           ‘I love you.’

           ‘You’re beautiful.’

           ‘I could stare at you for the rest of my life.’

           ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’

      ��    You would tell him that he needed to love himself, see the good inside of him, he guessed that that was one the types of love he had yet to discover: self-love. He didn’t see himself capable of loving himself nearly the half of how much you loved him.

           ‘You know one reason why you should love yourself, because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been.’

              He didn’t love himself, not yet, but if he was able to make you smile like that, he couldn’t be that unworthy of you.

7. STORGE or Familiar love

              He had been avoiding love for as long as he could remember, and then you burst into his life with the force of a typhoon. Love had found him, and he couldn’t get away, you never can, it was a lesson that he had finally accepted.

             For so long he saw love as something unnecessary, a burden for the soul. Love ruins you, it stabs you on the back, whenever he let his walls down, love would always take advantage of it and destroy him, bringing him closer to insanity, he had lost himself too many times by loving people and when he met you, he did not want the cycle to repeat itself. He didn’t want more Kuchels, Kennys, Isabels and Farlans, love was merciless, and he wasn’t interested in it, at least that was what he told to himself every day, that he was better off alone. Was all the pain worth it? He thought love came with a high price and he couldn’t afford it. However, things change, life happens, destiny has always something in the store, well, in his case he had someone.

           You were his everything, the beacon that brought light in his life, for so long he had been lost, walking amongst shadows, nearly becoming one, and when you appeared you changed the rules of the game, of his game. Every wall he had built around himself came down and you filled every gap his heart was missing. It was the scariest thing he had ever done, letting you in, letting someone in, giving someone else the control of his own heart. You knew the power you held between your hands and you never abused it. You were his solace in this mad world, the oasis in the middle of the desert.

         Loving him was not easy, he knew it, he was rude, sharp, too closed off, mean, he was what people liked to call a ‘fucking jerk’ and yet you never gave up on him, on what you had. Instead of leaving when you had the chance, you stayed through thick and thin: through sleepless nights, through his bad moods and grumpiness, through his biting remarks… .You didn’t ran way, you were too stubborn for that, instead you taught him more forms of love.

         You were all of the ones he knew and more.

         You were selfless, giving him every part of you and loving him with everything you had to offer.

         You were his best friend, his companion, the better half of him.

         You were playful, joyous, probably the only thing that could make him smile and bring him happiness.

         You were consuming, like a fire burning inside of him.

         You were passionate, intoxicating.

         You were every form of love he had ever experienced, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the kind of love he was experiencing in that moment: the familiar one. The one you feel when you hold your newborn in your trembling hands. It was something he couldn’t describe, there weren’t words for it, he tried to, but he failed every single time.

         This was the way his mom loved him, and then he knew how much he had meant for his own mother. While holding little Kuchel on his arms, he remembered all those days and nights on that dirty brothel, all the hours he spent by his mother’s side, how she would do everything to give him the best life and he soon realized there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for his daughter. It wasn’t the best of times to have a child, but in that moment, in that precise instant, when Kuchel opened her grey eyes, he was sure of one thing: he would tear everything and everyone down only to see her smile.

        A knock on the door. Another one. Two minutes passed and then Hange, followed by Erwin, entered in the room.

       ‘Tch, Shitty-glasses, who gave you permission to come in?’ 

       ‘My authority as a god-mother.’

       ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

      ‘She’s beautiful, what’s her name?’ 

     ‘Her name is Kuchel.’

     Kuchel was his new world, he loved her so much that it was overwhelming, he would never love someone as much as he loved her, and no one would probably love with the same devotion Levi Ackerman loved his daughter.

    ‘You know, Kuchel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I promise you that you will have the best life a man like me can give you. I may be a little cold, perhaps a little strict and you will probably get mad at me sometimes, but no matter what happens, I will love you through everything. And by the way, no dating until I’m dead because no brat will be good enough for you. You deserve the world Kuchel and I’ll give you everything it has to offer. Things may get hard, you aren’t born in the best circumstances, but I’ll protect you because you deserve the life I couldn’t live.’

     Kuchel’s first word was ‘dadda’.

     Kuchel’s first steps were pointed towards his father.

     Kuchel’s favorite pastime was being in his father’s arms.

     Kuchel could only sleep after his father had kissed her forehead.

     And Kuchel would never love someone as much as he loved his father, because she loved him as much as he loved her.

8. PRAGMA or Enduring love

           He was old and wrinkly, he was scarred, mutilated and there were days he couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were too real. But he was happy, he was married to the most beautiful and special person he had ever met, he had a loving daughter, a bunch of brats he was proud to call grandchildren and the tea shop he had always dreamed about.

           Life hadn’t been fair to him. He had lost so many people he cared about, he had fought a war and he had had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But, after all, after the tortures, the adversities, the deaths… He had people who loved and whom he loved.

          Love was worth it. He had finally learned that.

          At his seventies he found out about the last kind of love, the enduring, the one that lasts and survives in time. He loved his family above everything, and he would love them long after his bones turn into ashes and no one remembers his name.

         Then he recalled that question he never got to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

         He looked at the sky and smiled.

        ‘After all someone was fool enough to love me mom, who would have thought?’

         A gentle breeze caressed his skin and a single tear fell from his eye.

        ‘I guess that’s the way you have of answering the question.’

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

[ranhaitanisgf]

❝ three answers ❞ jyugo

[𖤐] it's 4am rn what did i just write....sorry about that LMAO if you want someone to blame blame sammy their the one who started all this. its all her fault. blame. them. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this all the same, for my nonexistent nanbaka fans <333

[𖤐] this does contain a mention or a pretty major manga spoiler, so read with caution!!

❧ masterlist

--

jyugo has never been one to want anything; it’s a fact that deep down, he’s always known. it was never something that bothered him too much, (maybe because he never wanted to think about it) and so he never really took the time to ask himself, ‘what do i want?’.

he answered this question for the first time when he almost lost everything he didn’t even know he wanted.

even when it was all dangling right in front of his face, even when he was about to lose the one thing he had wanted, his thoughts were still jumbled with confused thoughts and questions that didn’t clear up until he saw his chance walking away. his chance. a chance. i want…

“please!! give me a chance!!”

“...took you long enough…”

in that moment, when his number plate clanked against the stone floor, he suddenly knew how it felt to have the most important thing to oneself be almost taken away. in that moment, when he was given a chance, he swore that he would never let it happen again; that he would never let anything important to him be in danger, he never wants to lose the people close to him. he doesn’t want to be the monster that he was in the past, so he’s decided that he’ll do everything he can to protect the people he could never stand to lose.

the second time he answered this question is when he fell in love.

this feeling makes him feel like every other emotion he’s ever felt was fake; they all paled in comparison to this sensation. he still isn’t able to decide whether it’s a good or a bad thing, hell, he doesn’t even know what he should do with this feeling in the first place, (should he tell you? how does he handle it? it’s times like these when he wishes he knew his parents.).

he has never needed anything so badly that he would be willing to do anything to have it, that he would reach out for it so desperately that he forgets everything around him. he never thought that he would be able to experience such a vivid emotion such as this, and now that he’s feeling it, it almost feels like an amazing ride that he never wants to get off of.

i mean, how could he not fall in love with you? everything about you was just...amazing, (he wishes that there was a better word to describe you, but he doesn’t think there’s any words he knows that would be enough to do so). you had the kindest soul he had ever seen, always there for others and putting other people’s needs above your own, (he thinks you should worry more about yourself). he admired everything about you, and yet, what was holding him back? why would he avoid your gaze whenever you would glance over at him?

you can’t have them, you know that. you’re a monster.

oh, that’s right.

he almost forgot about it for a moment there, but how could he? the little voice in the back of his head was there to help him remember it; that little voice that sounded exactly like him, (he said that he would be able to control the elf inside him, but this was the sacrifice he made to have that control in the first place).

“hey, jyugo, is everything alright?”

“h-huh?”

“oh, sorry! you just seemed kind of down, like something’s weighing down on your mind...you probably wouldn’t want to, but you can always talk to me if you need anything, alright?”

just like that, you had saved him yet again, and you didn’t even know it. each time he was drowning in his own thoughts, you would pull him back out with just a few simple words. he would cling to them every time, holding onto them with such a grip that he didn’t even know was possible; you were truly something else, and he was forever grateful for it.

when he had finally managed to confess his feelings for you, (it was by accident, and it was caused by uno, nico, & rock) his world was turned upside down. he had surely thought that there was no way you could would like him back, there was no way somebody like you could love somebody like him, and yet, the words coming out of your mouth seemed to say something different.

“I-i really like you too jyugo!”

for a while, everything was perfect. now, he had everything he could ever want, and there was nothing that could take this away from him. sure, there was still the occasional incident, but as long as you were near, surely nothing would happen, right?

he’ll be able to grow up and go to an ice cream parlor with you and experience all the wonderful things in life with you, and he’s giving you a promise ring for now, but he swears that one day he’ll take you to a pretty spot with cherry blossoms and he’ll get down on one knee and ask you to marry him, and then the two of you would get married and you would yell at rock for trying to eat the cake before he was supposed to, and then he would take you to go do everything you’ve ever wanted to do and the two of you would buy a house and you would yell at him for trying to paint the walls himself, and it would all be perfect. for now though, he was going to savor every single moment with you; every late night that he spent having whispered conversations with you, every smile that you would flash his way, every time you would lace your fingers with his, he was going to have it for the rest of his life.

oh, how stupid he was to think that it could last forever.

he’s been left alone more times that he can count, so why was he so surprised when it happened again? maybe it was because it was his fault, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to leave him, you didn’t want to go just yet. maybe it was because you were slowly dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“h-hey, stay with me, (y/n)! you can’t go yet, i-i have so much to tell you!!” he hurriedly pulled you into his arms, his eyes frantically looking over your body, only to find the color red slowly seeping through your shirt.

“you shouldn’t...cry, i think you look prettier when you’re smiling.” how could he smile in a situation like this?!

“w-we’re going to take you to okina-sensei, and he’s going to-”

“no, he’s not. jyugo, you have to keep going, alright?” don’t say that, it’s like you’re saying you’re gonna...

“stop talking like that, y-you’re not going to…”

“there’s...so much you can do with what you have...you’re special that way, so don’t go thinking that you need me to do what...i know you’ve always been able to do.” i need you though…!

“(y/n), p-please-!” no, stop looking at him with that smile on your face.

“ever since i saw you...i knew that you were different...thank you for letting me partake in a dream...even if it was for just a little bit…” stop talking like that, you’re not going to die.

“s-someone get okina!!!” you’re going to survive this; you have to.

“jyugo...hehe, are you going to...keep your promise…?”

“what? (y/n) please…”

“you said that you...were going to marry me, right?” please don’t do this to me.

“(y/n), w-will you marry me?”

“of course...i’ll marry you jyugo. hehe, i’m so happy right now...” even with the tears sliding down the side of your face, you were gently smiling up at him, almost like you hadn’t been coughing up blood just a moment ago.

“we’re gonna get married soon, and, and we’ll have a nice wedding and…”

“i know…” your hand shakily reached up to cup his cheek, the metal of the promise ring he had given you cool on his skin. he leaned into your touch, the tears in his eyes falling rapidly down his cheeks and over your hand. there was no way this was happening, not now, not to you...

“please don’t cry...can you please smile, one more time…?” it took everything in him, but because it was you asking, he was somehow able to turn the corners of his lips up just a bit, giving you a small smile despite the flood of tears pouring from his eyes. your gentle touch against his skin brushed his bangs from his eyes, a fond look in your eyes that were also flooded with tears.

“i’m so...happy right now...thank you for everything, jyugo, i love you...so...much…” the panic that was set aflame in his heart when he felt your hand drop from his cheek and when he saw your eyes flutter closed was akin to nothing that he’s ever felt before.

“(y/n)...? (y/n)!! don’t close your eyes, please wake up!! t-there’s so much i have to tell you, you can’t go yet! p-please…!”

why was it that everytime he found something that made him happy, it would get snatched away from him? was it these shackles? was that the reason why? if only he could have rid himself of this curse, then maybe he would finally be normal, maybe he would have been able to marry you.

the third time he answered this question, it was when he lost everything, and it was the final time he answered it.

nothing.

--

howd i do 😃

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (2/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Suggestive Content, but no lemon

Word Count: 1809

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: So I am a liar, and this will be longer than 3 chapters probably:) I kept writing chapter 2 and it ended up being more like 6000 words, so I’m splitting it up baby

Enjoy

Pulled from sleep abruptly, I sit up, disoriented in the unfamiliar bedroom. Glancing around as the memories of last night come flooding in. This bed, now empty , belongs to my husband. Noticing said husband's absence, I rest my hand where I last saw him, noting that the sheets are cool to the touch. I glance towards the two doors leading to the closet and bathroom. Something deep inside me hopes that Regulus would pop out of either of the doors. 

Maybe he went to get something--

No. It's absurd to let myself believe that Regulus simply stepped out of the room for a moment. My foolish heart wants to believe he didn't, but I'm all too aware that Regulus abandoned me in our bed the morning after our wedding.

Why I assumed having sex with him would magically make him love me, I don't know. It was ridiculous, a miscalculation , an expectation that I had been holding onto consciously or not.

I laugh bitterly to myself. How stupid can I be? 

How stupid.

***

I assume running into me in the library of the house was an unpleasant accident on his part, partly from the stuttering pause when he walked through the doors and partly from the icy look he gave me.

How someone can look at another with such-- coldness , especially someone you could at best call a stranger, is unfathomable to me. I look back down at the book that I've spent my day entertaining myself with to shield myself from his frigid eyes.

It's helped pass the time to an extent, the time I should have been with him doing whatever newlyweds do on their first day of marriage.

At first, I had wandered the halls aimlessly debating with myself if breakfast with his parents, alone, would be too unbearable. It was a perfectly tragic breakfast, with Walburga asking me an array of pointless questions that had little to do with getting to know her new daughter-in-law.

Worst of all, she had been relentless in her demanding way about the importance of an heir, as if I were supposed to pop one out after one night. I had to admit, the idea of exposing her son and his use of contraceptive charms had been a delicious idea at the moment. In the end, though, I chose civility with my charming husband, even as the spite I felt for him in the current time had nearly pushed me towards the edge in these conversations.

I had wandered into the library after escaping my in-laws, and I hadn't left since then. The novel chosen to occupy my time had been working to make me forget that I was beyond annoyed with Regulus and my situation... but then he walked in and ruined what little sanity I had collected in the past hours.

Regulus still stands in the door frame, looking as if he may turn around and walk away before engaging me in any conversation or even a simple hello. If this son-of-a-bitch turns around and pretends he didn't see me, I swear I will make myself a widow.

"(y/n)."

My shoulders tense, "Regulus."

He doesn't respond for a second before asking, "Have you had a nice day?"

Un-fucking-believable , "No."

Not even married a full twenty-four hours, and he left me alone to fend for myself in this creaky, horrible old house with only his parents and a house-elf for company, and he dares to ask me if I've had a nice day?

If I hadn't just had one of the most soul-draining days of my life, I would've laughed at the look on his face. He doesn't quite know what to do with my firm 'no'. Naturally, I am not happy, and I will not hide my unhappiness from my dear husband.

"What is the matter? Did you--"

"You ran off to Merlin-knows-where, leaving me alone in this house. I did not have a good day, thank you for asking." I go back to the book I was reading. I had been enjoying this moment of reprieve from the anger I was feeling, but now that he's returned, I can barely focus on the little black words.

"Mother and father were here--"

"I don't find their company appealing," I spit back. How dare he not even explain himself. And suggest such a-- repulsive alternative . His parents? He really wanted me to spend my first day as his wife with his parents?

"I assumed you would want to get to know your family."

"You didn't suppose I would want to get to know my husband?" I can't help but bite back. His calm tone further aggravates me.

"You should know your family." 

"They are not my family."

I peek over my book to see his face. Confusion and a tinge of annoyance lace his features.

"They are your family."

" No , they are not."

He lets a frown crease his forehead for a moment before he goes back to his mask of passivity. "You are my wife." 

"That is true." My jaw clenches uncomfortably. What was his point?

"Then you are family, which makes my family yours ."

I shake my head, "no, it does not. "

Regulus looks frustrated, "When we have children. Then you will consider my family as yours?"

"No."

"No? How can you say no to a fact? A child of ours will be related to my family as well as yours and bear the Black name."

"That is all true, but it does not make us family."

Regulus has the decency to look shocked at my words, "I am your husband. Of course, we are family. With a child, that's even more so."

"Our marriage is a glorified contract at best. You do not love me, and I do not love you. You don't even try to love me. You made it fairly clear today that you don't intend on trying. Yes, any child born between us would be my family, but that does not make us family. Family implies some bond of familial familiarity. I don't know you, and at this rate, I don't see myself ever knowing you." I keep eye contact as I lay out our situation to my husband. Husband didn't even feel like it should apply to him. The warmth the word could have brought to me has been extinguished by Regulus's lack of emotion. Lack of-- everything.

Regulus stares back.

"I can't love you."

His words pierce any anger I felt. I knew that this morning. Knew it as the hours passed by today, and I still heard nothing from him. I feel the lump of sorrow firm in my throat, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, "but why?" The weakness I let seep into the words disgusts me. I can't afford to be weak in this marriage.

His icy eyes stare into my watery ones. Stupid tears. 

"It's not who I am."

Rage fills where the sorrow sat a moment ago. "I have been damned to an eternity of misfortune. I don't understand what I did to deserve this."

Refusing to show this vulnerability, I practically run from the room.

I walk past the doors to the other bedrooms of Grimmauld place, finding mine— ours . Collapsing on the bed, I let myself tear up completely. 

I hate it here, and I can't think of any way to get out of it. Nothing can fix this— this mistake of a marriage.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I look up at the heavy canopy. I don't know how I'll survive this marriage; at least my sanity won't survive. How anyone can live in this dreary home is beyond me.

***

Regulus paces the room, not expecting an argument from her. (y/n) had been so... docile the entire night they spent together. Nothing could've prepared for him to hear her frustrated words or her claim that she possibly wanted anything from him.

And her quiet "but why"... he nearly lost his cool at the broken sound of (y/n)'s voice. He hadn't expected her to be so… emotional.

Despite their marriage being arranged, his wife clearly came in with the hope she could grow to love him. And she seemed to hope that he could love her as well.

If he had any idea how to be in love, he would try for her. But… it's complicated. Even with the bonding spell between couples like them, he doubts he can act as she wishes.

Maybe he could act it , but that's not fair to (y/n). 

Regulus knew that it would be much crueler to pretend to love her when he truly did not.

***

(y/n) doesn't accompany him to dinner. Walburga and Orion don't comment, but he can tell that they are curious to know why their daughter-in-law wasn't present. 

When he makes his way to their room, he isn't surprised that she doesn't turn around to greet him.

For a moment, he watches her as she sits at her vanity. She is a rather pretty girl, he muses. He supposes he should be appreciative to have such a beautiful wife. But, unfortunately, not many men in these marriages could say they were attracted to their wives.

He's about to approach her when she speaks.

"I want a child." 

Regulus's mouth goes dry, " You do ?" 

(Y/n) turns around in her vanity chair, "I do."

"Where-- did this come from?"

"Is this not why we married?"

Regulus crosses his arms across his chest, "that's beside the point."

"It's not! This is why marriages like ours take place!" She gets up close and personal to him, "that's why your parents chose me for you. So I would have your children and continue your line ."

He doesn't argue with her because she isn't wrong.

"We don't need a child now."

She laughs bitterly, "You'll deny me this as well?" 

"I'm not— denying you anything."

"You have no right to say no to me, Regulus Black."

"We've been married for less than a week."

"The sooner, the better." She echoes his own words.

Regulus sighs, running a hand through his hair. This is the last conversation he wants to have at 10 P.M.

"We are not having a child right now. That's final."

She gets back up in his face, "We will see about that." (y/n) moves around him towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping elsewhere." He almost snorts at the irony of her leaving the room when she's all but declared she could seduce him into giving her the child she wants.

Instead, he grabs her arm before she can leave, "you stay here. I'll leave."

"I am perfectly capable of sleeping in a different room."

"Stay here," he gives her a serious look.

(Y/n) looks away from him, pulling her arm free, "fine."

[kuroopaisen]

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.  

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

shit. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

[kstewdeux]

For a span of a minute that felt like an eternity, the entire world focused in on one singular point. A small painting. It’s edges well worn. Finer details faded and lost due to the passage of time but otherwise, in shockingly good condition.

But for all it’s antiquity, there was no mistaking the young woman who had been depicted. Whoever wrote the small exhibition label had simply labeled it:

Unidentified Artist, Japanese

Late Tokugawa Shogunate, Edo Period, 1853-1867

Young Woman

Painting on Parchment

H. Nakamura Trust, 88.251

According to the small blurb beneath the exhibition label, this tiny piece of parchment, clearly kept over the past century with meticulous care, had - at some point - apparently been studied by scholars to prove it was genuine. A fact that had been in dispute because the style diverged so greatly from art styles of the period but Kagome knew what the artist had been trying to do.

A photograph. He’d tried to mimic a photograph. Not perfect by any means but as close as someone in that time period could get. Which was shocking given (a) she had no idea he could draw and (b) that he would’ve taken the time to draw her.

Jaw trembling, Kagome had to remind herself to breathe. A task made more difficult as her friends joined her and began commenting on how the girl in the drawing resembled her.

Of course it did. It was her.

Her blurry vision flicked to the date and what registered felt like something cold was crushing her heart. If this ‘unidentified artist’ was him, Inuyasha had survived their quest and lived hundreds of years clearly hoping to see her again. At some point, he must have realized he simply wasn’t going to make it and…

Exhaling shakily, Kagome swallowed and decided it would be easier to simply leave. She was getting worked up over nothing. It was entirely possible that all of this was a coincidence. That she was reading too much into it. After all, Inuyasha wasn’t an artist by any means and most certainly would not have spent hundreds of years thinking about her. They were friends. Just friends. Unless something changed, which seemed unlikely, he had no interest in being with her that way. Besides, surely there were other women who looked like her throughout history. Everyone had a doppelgänger, right? Hers just happened to be some random woman in 19th century Japan.

It was just a painting of her doppelgänger.

Hopefully. Hopefully that’s all that it was.

“I have to go,” Kagome mumbled hoarsely as she took a step back and tore her eyes away from the painting, “I need to go.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Yuka asked worriedly, “Do…”

Unable to hear anything over the ringing in her ears, Kagome’s eyes wavered as they flicked back to the blurb that, upon closer inspection, described the other sketches and accompanying notes that detailed the artist’s ‘love’ for the young woman depicted. Various photographs of said notes had been attached slightly below said blurb and one of them had her shaking her head in mild horror.

‘I will not know your name next time we meet…’

“I need to go,” Kagome repeated breathlessly before turning on her heel and damn near running for the entrance. After that, she wouldn’t’ve been able to tell you how long or far or even which direction she ran from the mental image of an elderly Inuyasha writing out those notes he had to believe she’d never read. It might not even be him. Couldn’t be him. He didn’t draw. Couldn’t say something poetic much less write it. It had to be a coincidence. Just a coincidence but the image continued playing in her mind until she was blinded by tears. He died alone. Even…even if she did end up with him, she would’ve been dead by the time he wrote that. Long before he even picked up that brush. It…it…

It was all becoming too painful to even imagine.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Kagome clutched at her chest and used the side of a cement building for support. Inuyasha died over a hundred years ago and while that made sense, the realization that all her friends had died sometime in the past five hundred years hit her with all the force of a Mack truck.

Whimpering softly, her legs gave out and she slid down to the cold sidewalk. It was a coincidence. Just a coincidence. The probability of it all…

Well it just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him. It just…

“There you are,” came a hoarse, relieved whisper from far too close before two strong arms scooped her up and pulled her off the ground, “What happened? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Inuyasha?” Kagome mumbled stupidly before she whined and pressed her face into the corner of his neck - a gesture which had him stopping and doing something strange. His face turned slightly and buried his nose into her hair.

“What happened? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what happened,” he chided anxiously as he gave her a light squeeze, “You hurt?”

Opening her eyes, Kagome glanced around the dimly lit streets and realized how late it was. No wonder he’d come after her.

“M’fine. Got lost is all,” she lied lamely and she felt him inhale deeply then sigh.

“Bullshit. What happened?” he asked again before adding in a clear attempt to get her to smile, “I don’t mind killing people ya know. If someone hurt you, I’ll make them pay, ya know, if you want.”

“Nothing happened. Just got lost on my way home,” she mumbled and with a somewhat exasperated grunt, Inuyasha continued walking again.

“You’re a terrible liar and an idiot,” Inuyasha opined firmly - adjusting his hold on her and shaking his head, “You could’ve gotten hurt out here by yourself, stupid. Anything could’ve happened.”

“I was…”

“Sometimes I swear you’re trying to get yourself killed,” he continued chiding as some of his anger began bubbling to the surface, “What would’ve happened if I didn’t come looking, huh?”

“I said I’m sorry,” she protested weakly - her nose subtly nuzzling the flesh at the base of his neck, “I…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. You need to do better,” Inuyasha snapped angrily before pausing mid-stride and sighing, “I swore to protect you but you make it so…so hard sometimes. And you don’t even care. You just…just go around getting kidnapped or disappearing and…and getting hurt when I’m not looking.”

It was strange but hearing his voice berate her and feeling his irritated breaths actually improved her mood considerably.

“I waited. Like an idiot I waited for you to come back from that school thing of yours instead of coming to get you like normal but…but then the sun went down and…” Inuyasha continued to huffed and grunt while his arms held her slightly tighter, “I can’t be there all the time dammit. I can’t. I’d like to be but…but I just can’t so…so you just have to fucking do better.”

Lifting her head slightly at this strange command, Kagome studied his face for a moment before leaning forward and absently placing a kiss on his tense neck. Inuyasha went stock still and then rigid but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll do better,” she promised tiredly as she pressed another lazy kiss on his shoulder. At least in this moment, he was alive and loved. Right now, he wasn’t alone drawing paintings and writing notes to someone who was either dead or hadn’t been born yet. And while true that the ‘unidentified artist’ was probably anyone else, that mental image of it being him continued to haunt her.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome stubbornly told herself that the ‘unidentified artist’ couldn’t be him. It simply wasn’t possible. For so many reasons.

“You kissed me,” Inuyasha finally blurted and mercifully distracted from her inner turmoil, Kagome hummed in the affirmative. A second passed then two and he forced out a strangled, “W-why?”

“I wanted to,” Kagome offered tiredly as she focused on the feel of him and the knowledge that, as of this moment, he was very much alive. And yes, now that she was a little calmer, it was fairly obvious that the ‘unidentified artist’ wasn’t Inuyasha. He didn’t think of her in that way. Never had. Never would. They were friends. Best friends. But he loved someone else and had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in her that way.

As Kagome continued talking herself down, Inuyasha remained motionless for a long time before he finally began walking back towards the shrine. Slowly. Every so often he’d pause and take a few short breaths like he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

“Why did you want to?” he finally asked hesitantly as he turned a corner, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Because you’re you,” she mumbled as her consciousness began ebbing. With a soft sigh, she relaxed more fully against his warm chest and offered up an additional explanation, “It made me happy.”

This response clearly bothered him judging by the increased tension in his muscles.

“Why did kissing me make you happy?” he pressed after another long moment of silence.

“Dunno. Why do you think it…” Kagome trailed off into a yawn and Inuyasha let out a small groan.

“I don’t know. That’s why I was asking,” Inuyasha interrupted with a huff of frustration, “You always make things hard. For no reason.”

Instead of getting angry, Kagome simply cooed and snuggled into him which seemed to both bother and calm him.

“You’re so stupid,” he continued to grumble as he adjusted his hold, “Ask a simple question and you just…act like you.”

“How else am I supposed to act?” Kagome hummed with mild amusement and Inuyasha grunted.

“Whatever. You need to sleep,” he changed the subject miserably as he finally made it to the shrine and began climbing the steps, “But don’t think I’m gunna take it easy on you. I’m serious. You can’t do shit like that again. You could’ve gotten…”

“Will you stay here tonight?” Kagome interrupted tiredly and Inuyasha once again stopped mid-step. His hands flexed against the flesh they were gripping as he licked his lips and averted his eyes.

“Only if you tell me why you really kissed me,” he repeated his earlier question - before continuing with an unease tinged with hope which surprised her, “I think I deserve some answers after the stupid stunt you just pulled and if you’re trying…if you did that to just…just distract me, it won’t work. Won’t change nothing. You still gotta be less stupid.”

“I did it because I wanted to,” Kagome repeated before gasping when he suddenly set her down and glared.

“Well what if I didn’t want you to?” Inuyasha huffed - something strangely hurt behind his expressive amber eyes, “You’ve never tried to mess with me before. Never. And…and do you have any idea how scared I was when you didn’t come home? I searched for you, Kagome. From the…the 6 to the 9. Do you know how hard it is to track scents here? To listen for you? It’s a literal miracle that I…”

“I said I’m sorry,” Kagome insisted and Inuyasha looked even more hurt. Breathing heavily, he visibly tried to control whatever reaction was brewing under the surface but unfortunately, his confusion and hurt bubbled over.

“I DON’T WANT AN APOLOGY!” Inuyasha bellowed - his hurt escalating into full blown anger with such speed it nearly gave her whiplash, “YOU COULD’VE DIED. YOU COULD’VE BEEN HURT! AND I’M NOT SO DESPERATE THAT A STUPID KISS IS GUNNA MAKE ME FORGET THAT! WHY DID YOU KISS ME?!”

“I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you!” Kagome snapped and Inuyasha looked a hair away from strangling her.

“THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER! YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO COVER YOUR ASS AND…” Inuyasha began to rail against her once more and it was at that point Kagome’s mind officially hit It’s breaking point. He wanted answers, huh? He wanted to know why she ran and why she kissed him and why she was so upset?!

“FINE! KNOW WHY I DID THAT?! BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” Kagome screamed bitterly and Inuyasha froze like a deer in the headlights, “I KISSED YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! THERE! HAPPY?!”

When Inuyasha continued gaping at her with a shell-shocked expression, the full ramifications of what she’d just admitted hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Forget it,” she breathed miserably as she turned and unsteadily began climbing the stairs with her arms curled tightly around her stomach, “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do…any of that again. Just forget what I said.”

“Wait. Wait,” Inuyasha’s strangely panicked voice called out - a single clawed hand gripping her shoulder to force her to stop, “I don’t think I heard that right. W-why did you…”

“Let me go Inuyasha,” Kagome hissed but the hand didn’t release her.

“C-can I tell you w-what I heard?” he asked with a mixture of fear and desperation, “A-and I could be wrong but I just…”

“You hear everything Inuyasha,” Kagome huffed acidly as she pushed away his hand with all her might, “You heard what I said…”

Even as she climbed the stairs, she could hear his harsh rapid breaths which honestly had her moving a little faster. Everything was ruined now. All because of some stupid little painting that she’d just…

“You…you said you…you loved me,” he repeated barely above a whisper, “Right?”

Closing her eyes, Kagome let out a long sigh before squaring her shoulders and deciding to face her mistake head on.

“I do love you but I don’t…” she began as she turned to face him before being cut off when a pair of lips captured her own. Two strong arms snaked around her waist for but a moment before his calloused hands suddenly cupped her face in an effort to force her to respond.

When she finally did and when he finally pulled back, his slightly euphoric expression faded into mild horror and panic.

“Y-you said you l-loved me back, r-right?” he asked worriedly as he released and took an involuntary step back, “That’s…that’s what you said. Two, no, three times. You said that…”

“That I loved you…back,” Kagome repeated slowly and Inuyasha gave a jerky nod in response.

“That’s what you said,” he insisted miserably - his amber eyes flicking in the direction of the well, “So…and I mean, you did start the…the kissing so I…and you were an idiot. Scared me half to…”

“Know what? That is what I said,” Kagome hummed in a resigned fashion as she reached out and gestured for him to take her hand, “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s late.”

Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha eyed the beckoning hand with weary apprehension before accepting the gesture and allowing her to lead him into the house. And up the stairs. And into her bedroom. And then onto her bed. A bed upon which he found himself awkwardly waiting while Kagome proceeded to change and get ready for the night.

“Where are you gunna sleep…” he began nervously when it finally dawned on him that she seemed to be intending for him to sleep on the bed. That’s where she led him and where she told him to stay after all. Which was strange but it had been a strange night. Maybe she was trying to make him feel better. Do him a favor?

“In the bed,” Kagome hummed as she ran a brush through her hair and gave him a warm smile. A smile that faded when he stood up and began nervously glancing around with a marked blush.

“Inuyasha, where are you going?”

“You’re gunna sleep on the bed,” he muttered as he prepared to sleep in his normal position on the floor, “And you…well I was gunna…”

“If you want, you can sleep in the bed with me…”

Amber eyes widened as a single impulsive ‘oh’ left his lips but instead of sitting back down on the bed, he remained standing and staring at her with that same shell-shocked expression.

“Is that…okay?” Kagome asked nervously.

Seeming to come back to himself, Inuyasha nodded fervently and quickly sat down atop the mattress.

“Y-yeah thats…that’s…yeah. Yeah. We can do that…”

That night was the first of many nights he spent cuddled up against the woman of his dreams. Letting the warmth of her body span the length of his own as he relished in the knowledge that somehow this woman loved him. How, when or even why didn’t matter. She loved him back and that first night, as he held her small frame against him, he very nearly cried in relief. Honestly, before that night, he had already decided he was going to let her go rather than say anything. There was no way she’d ever love him back, he’d reasoned. No one would ever want to be with a half-breed, right? He’d never been so happy to be wrong.

Weeks went by after that and the funny thing was, when Kagome absently mentioned the painting from the museum to her friends over lunch, none of them had the faintest clue what she was talking about. All they remembered was her leaving in a rush. While Kagome chalked this up to the art not being memorable to anyone else, the truth was that no one else would ever remember this art because it simply never existed.

The second she’d admitted her feelings - emotions he fully reciprocated but had suppressed - all those drawings and notes faded from the annuals of time because that painting- which had been loaned to the museum by a well meaning unrelated widow who thought the unique artwork would make for an interesting exhibit - turned out to be a butterfly which was inadvertently crushed. As the years rolled on, Inuyasha never needed to paint something to bring him comfort in the midst of crushing regret and loneliness.

Why would he?

Thanks to a merciful series of events, he woke up to his favorite smiling face every day for the rest of his life.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 20: Desperation

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: violence, sex, (they do things in semi-public so voyeurism sort of???) lemme know if anything else needs to be tagged please!!

SUMMARY: He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” you ask, and you’re not trying to question him, but it comes out that way, loose and aggressive. “You—you got away. We got the bounties and we got away, Gideon didn’t touch me—”

“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this chapter is dedicated to all of you, thank you SO much for sticking it out for the two week wait while i put my full energy into finals!! i hope that you love this one; it's full of action and angst (and sex)! i am all finished with all my finals now, so i should be able to get chapter 21 up next weekend, Saturday the 15th, but it's the day before i graduate so i'll keep everyone updated on here and tiktok (padmeamydala)!!!

HOPE YOU ENJOYYYYYYYYY!!! <3

*

You’ve always known Din’s eyes were warm, soulful, filled with life beyond the opaqueness of the visor, and you’ve always yearned for a glimpse for them. To see the way he looks at you, how hungry his gaze is, how full of light, how quiet yet radiant they were. Not anymore. You’d trade it all to go back five seconds in time, to stop lifting the stupid metal ball in the air with your mind. To never see the look of betrayal that’s locked on you like a laser beam, horrified and dark.

The ball drops to the floor. It sounds so much louder than it actually is, and the squeaks that come out of your mouth along with the clatter are almost deafening. “I—”

“You’re—you can use the Force?” Din asks, expressive brows scrunched together in confusion, his eyes fluttering between you, the baby, and the ball the two of you can move with thought alone. Your heart is tangled up in your throat.

“I didn’t know—” you say, breath shallow, heart hammering something horrible in your chest, “that’s what it was—I—I swear, Din, I justdid this for the f—first time, I didn’t know—” you swallow, the feeling of it thick and immovable in your throat. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t keeping it from you, I just found out I could even do this—”

“The blaster,” he interrupts, and the hands that you’re emphasizing your poorly delivered point with fall limp at your sides. “On Coruscant. That’s how it flew out of Xi’an’s hands.”

You wince. “Yes. But—”

“You’ve known for days?” he asks, voice funny in disbelief. Maker, you feel your heart breaking in your chest. “Why—why didn’t you tell me, Nova?”

There are tears now, forming hot and heavy at the corners of your eyes. “Danger. I’m dangerous. The baby,” you say, swinging your shaking pointer finger to his little green body, trying not to focus on how big and scared his eyes are, “the baby—he’s being hunted by everyone who knows about him. T—there aren’t Jedi left, and something the baby has makes him��” you swallow, trying to wet the tip of your tongue, “—a target. Vulnerable. And that means someone is always chasing after you. I didn’t know that what I could do—and feel—was because of the Force, I just thought I could—do strange things, and once I figured out the other day that I could use it…I’m a target too. I’m a liability. I’m—I’m putting you in danger if I use it.”

He’s still staring at you, completely bewildered. You can feel how large the ache is inside your chest.

“Din,” you start, and he shakes his head at you. You swallow, eyes roving down his body, over the pockmarks and lines of scars you’ve sewn back up, the flesh that he’s only ever let you see, and you can’t help the tears from falling now.

“You’re a target,” Din interrupts, voice faraway and strangled.

“If I use it,” you whisper, “if anyone c—can sense it, they’d probably want me, too.”

“You lied to me,” he says, and you blink at the accusation. Not only because it came from his bare mouth, but because it’s true. You’re not even sure what you lied about, but you know the weight of it, how affronted he sounds, how he’s made it a point to never lie to you, and how much truth means to him.

“I—” you start again, desperate, teary-eyed, and then the bounty puck he has strapped against his armor, strewn across the floor of the Crest, starts blinking, furious and red.

Before you can say anything else, Din’s redressing, pulling clothes from where they landed and snapping the beskar into place. He gives you one more look, betrayed and dark, before he roughly pulls the helmet back over his head, climbing the ladder. You exchange teary looks with the baby, and then you pull him to your chest, feeling his warmth radiate against your skin as you hoist the both of you up through the hole in the floor, trying to squash your tears from where they’re still falling from your eyes. Wordlessly, you sink into the copilot’s seat, running your shaky fingers over the peach fuzz on the baby’s little green head, trying to soothe yourself more than you’re trying to soothe him.

Your eyes feel like the galaxy’s worst reflecting pool as you watch the back of Din’s helmet, the beskar dark and impenetrable as he navigates out of Yavin’s starry atmosphere, shooting the Crest into the crush of space. The quiet beeping on the dashboard is the only noise for what feels like lifetimes, and you bite down hard on your lip as he pushes the ship into warp, and you close your eyes against the hurtling blue around you.

It’s quiet again. You don’t know how to fill it in a way that won’t make the situation worse, so you just worry your hand over the baby’s head and try not to make a sound. Finally, the ship pulls out of warp, and you see the scarred atmosphere of a planet, radiating a ring of blue around red and tan notches. You’ve never been here. It looks alien. Silently, Din navigates the ship down onto the surface, and you try to modulate your breathing, try to let the air hang in the way he clearly wants it. You haven’t seen him so stoic since you first boarded the Razor Crest, what feels like a lifetime ago. You can still see the outline of his face every time you close your eyes—his beautiful brown eyes, the shape of his nose, the softness of his lips—and then, in every reimagining, it morphs into betrayal.

When he lands, Din stays sitting in the pilot’s chair for so long that you think he won’t ever move again. Shallowly, your breath catches in your throat when the bounty puck starts blinking, and, abruptly, he rises up. He towers over you. Even when you’re standing with your body pressed up against yours, he completely eclipses you.

“You’re Force sensitive?” he asks, and his voice, modulated and quiet, is completely flat.

You nod, swallowing before you can answer. “Yes.”

Din’s staring at you, still, under the helmet. “Good,” he says, “that makes it easy.” He’s down the ladder before you can even process what he’s said, eyebrows furrowed down the middle of your forehead.

“W—what?” you say, gently placing the baby in his cradle, trying to climb down as fast as you can, before Din disappears with absolutely zero context. “Makes what easy?” you say, voice almost completely gone, heart pounding something dangerous and horrible inside your chest.

The puck starts blinking again. Furiously. You look at it, and back up at Din, seeing how incessantly it reflects in his visor, how obscured he is from you.

“I have to go,” he says, and his tone is still so flat, so detached from where he’s standing, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your body.

“O—okay,” you manage, completely and utterly confused. Before you can react, Din steps in closer, reaches a gloved hand around to the small of your back to anchor you against the beskar. Before you can react, before you can apologize, before you can do anything, he presses the metal of the helmet up against your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to savor every single millisecond that Din spends embracing you, and when he wrenches himself away, it’s far too soon.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, and you watch, wordless, as the gangplank descends.

You watch him walk away, disappear into the haze, every shiny inch of his body gone. “Be safe,” you manage, finally, before you let yourself cry again.

It’s been hours. Maybe. It could be a handful of minutes, or a collection of days, and you wouldn’t know. You’re alone and listless against the wall of the Crest, the same one you’ve frequented whenever Din leaves and the same one you’ve shared when he comes back. It feels like it’s been full moon cycles that you’ve cried out, the way that your heart aches in your chest. Like something rotten, like a festered wound.

You made the wrong choice. You know it by the way the guilt aches and hangs over you, a dark storm cloud. You should have told Din the truth from the second you realized that all your intuition was something more than just knowledge and empathy. When you first started seeing the visions. Okay, maybe not the one in the cave on Dagobah, because that was clearly the planet’s doing, that wicked gnarltree, but the ones after. When you protected him from Xi’an, when you fell into the baby’s vision back on Balnab. Maybe that’s why the bounties—and the subsequent stormtroopers—found you so easily. Maybe you were an amplifier, and maybe you have been this whole time, putting Din and the baby in danger before you even realized what sick power you hold.

The baby toddles over to you a few times, his eyes big and expressive. You let him settle in on your lap, rub your fingers over his fuzzy head, but everything inside you is dark and heavy and exhausted. You sit in silence, hallucinating that your commlink is beeping on your wrist, hallucinating that Din’s voice comes through the darkness to pull you out of it. You just sit and let yourself fester, marinate in all the ache, for what feels like forever. Eventually, the Crest gets even darker, and you know that wherever you are, whatever planet Din’s landed the ship on, it’s nightfall. You hate how empty and eternal the Crest is when he leaves, and this time, it just feels like an unrelenting blackness that you’ve been forced to surrender to.

Eventually, you let yourself sit back up against the wall instead of your melodramatic slump on the Crest’s floor, and, later still, you make your way over to the small pantry where the stockpile of food has been dwindling. There’s not much freshness left, so you eat up the small handfuls of fruit and vegetables teetering on the line of spoiling and pour one of the larger broth packets into the bowl for the baby. He laps it up twice as fast as you’re able to digest all your food, and you push some small red berries towards him, encouraging him to eat something that isn’t just thin soup. When you both finish, you slog yourself towards the fresher, washing out the remnants from your bowls and utensils. Your reflection is an even sorrier state than you imagined—the corners of your eyes are laden with the crustiness of old tears, your cheeks are sunken and inflamed from crying, your hair a mess in your face.

“Get it together,” you whisper, and when even your voice comes up broken, you sigh noisily. The water in the faucet doesn’t come out strong enough for your liking, but it’s cold enough to splash the remnants of your afternoon spent sobbing off your face. When you finish, you just want to sleep—you’re tired and your head is pulsing—but the baby is still wide awake, giant expressive eyes filled with all of the emotion you’ve been trying to purge and avoid.

“I’m okay, bug,” you say, your voice still coming out weakened, the syllables splitting in half. “Can we sleep, please?”

He shakes his head. You sigh, compromising by sinking down to the floor so you’re as close enough to eye level as you’re going to get.

“Baby,” you reiterate, “I am literally begging you. Let’s just sleep until your daddy comes back, huh?”

He blinks at you with those giant, sentient eyes like he suddenly can’t understand a single damn word you’re saying. It’s impressive, really, how stubborn he can be when he wants to. It’s a mystery where he picked that one up. Certainly, it couldn’t have been from his shiny father, man of few words and fewer agreements. You squint at him. He squints back.

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes roaming over the floor for his metal ball. He perks up when you roll it towards him, watching as it levitates from the floor to the air between the two of you as his tiny green hand rises. You don’t know how long he suspends it there before he looks over at you, and you shake your head. “No. I’m not using it again.”

The baby makes a noise, and you sigh, throwing your head back. You’re not setting a very good example—you’re being stubborn and tense and short-tempered, and you know how easily the kid picks up and embodies mannerisms of the people around him—but you’re exhausted, and you’re half-heartbroken, and your fiancé just found out you were keeping the biggest secret in the galaxy from him, and now he’s out there searching for a bounty on this unfamiliar wasteland of a planet.

“I can’t use it again,” you repeat, gentler, “it puts you and your dad in danger, bug, I—I’m not going to be the reason to do that.”

He looks up at you, ears down in sorrow, big eyes wide and filled with the same tears you feel building in yours again. His little green hand, still outstretched, flaps just the tiniest bit, and you reach out your own to meet him in the middle. You don’t know what else to say or how else to say it, but you’re so exhausted. When he steps closer, and his hand slips out of yours, you don’t have the foresight to stop him. His palm presses directly up against your forehead, and, for once, you don’t fight it. You let the vision come.

It’s dark. Darker than it was before, the entire planet clouded and shrouded by deep, impenetrable fog. You can hear the cries of people around you, but you can’t see farther than a few inches. Somewhere, you can hear—or feel, or sense—the pulse and whine of those white lightsabers, and you know that shrouded figure who wields them is somewhere in the fog. When you turn to find the source, the vision shifts. You see Din with his beskar staff, fighting with the same woman you saw in your last one, and you’re on the ground, writhing and desperate to get to him. And then, as you roll over to get up, the vision shifts once more. It isn’t Din and his spear, you’re on a vessel that looks too closely like an Imperial cruiser. Your heart catches in your throat as the image in front of you takes shape. It’s not Din. It’s Moff Gideon, tall, enshrouded, and dangerous. He pulls something out, a weapon, and you throw both hands up over your head in a sad attempt to protect yourself, but before you can shield your eyes, you see the blade ignite. It’s not a lightsaber. It’s in the same family, maybe, but it’s pulsating and wicked, the outline shifting and crackling with stark black electricity. You gasp, skittering backward, and when your hand meets something that isn’t the cool metal of the ship’s interior, you see the baby, scared and handcuffed, and before you can protect him, the beskar of Din’s spear appears out of absolutely nowhere and clashes against Gideon’s blade, and then the vision is over.

“Hey,” you say, voice shaky, opening your eyes to the familiarity of the Crest, close enough to your makeshift bed to grab blankets and pull them over your lap. You’re freezing, suddenly, heart hammering in your chest. “Hey, baby—what was that? W—why do you keep showing me that? Are you in danger? Are wein danger?”

He just stares at you, eyes wide and scared. You try to coax your heartbeat back to a resting pulse rate, and then you gather his little green body up in your arms, pressing his head against your chest. You’re still breathing heavily, and you can feel how hard he’s wheezing, his breath hot and scared in your ear. You pull him closer.

“Bug,” you say, again, trying for both his sake and yours to keep your voice level, “is that a premonition? Is—is that going to happen?”

You can’t hear him, can’t see him shake his head, but you know he’s answering you. Yes.

“How soon?” you ask, trying not to convey anything anxious and terrified to him—through your mind, through the Force, however you’re communicating with him right now. “Is it on this planet?”

No. It’s not. You know, somehow, that it’s not.

“How c—how can I make sure that you don’t get separated from us, sweetness?”

Nothing. There’s nothing. You even pull his face away from where it’s buried in your collarbone to try to understand, to search for the answers that had so easily been in your head beforehand, but he looks just as confused and scared as you feel. You sigh, letting him nuzzle up against you again, trying your hardest to not ruminate on the fact that you’re in danger, hard, unavoidable danger, that everything you’ve seen over the past few months, everything you’ve been terrified of—is almost tangible, almost close enough to touch.

Your wrist blinks, and it’s so startling in the darkness that you audibly gasp. It startles the baby, too, before he leans back, sleepy and quiet against your shoulder. You’re not sure how long that you’ve been out—if you’ve even slept at all, because everything in your chest is still heavy and full of grief.

“Hello?” you whisper into the darkness of the hull, pulse quickening when you remember Din’s the one on the end of the line.

“It’s me,” he says, low and quiet, and for some reason, that makes everything in you return back to normal.

“I know,” you answer, your lips contorting into half of a smile. “Are you okay?���

He’s quiet, for a second, and you sit in silence, even though it still feels so loud. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What time is it?” you yawn, rubbing at your left eye with the heel of your hand. “How long have you been gone?”

“Dark,” Din answers, and you don’t have the energy to argue with him that’s not a real time, and you just smile against his voice again. “I’ve been away for six or seven hours.”

“When are you coming back?” you ask, and the question sits heavy like it used to, before you knew you loved each other. Before you knew he wanted to marry you. Before he knew you had the Force.

“As soon as I can, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, and for some reason, that makes tears well up in your eyes again. “Go to sleep.”

“Is it even night?” you yawn again, settling back into the nest you’ve made for you and the baby in all the blankets on the floor. “Like—is the sun up on this planet? Or is it…um…dark?”

“Did you just—need to ask if it was dark to describe night?” Din asks, and, Maker, there’s relief flooding through you at the shape of his smile.

“I said night first,” you insist, but you’re already so cozy huddled back up on the floor, and the baby’s wheezing out of his nose, and it may or may not be nighttime, and Din’s voice is in your ear. And he’s not betrayed right now. His eyes are probably crinkled up inside the helmet as he laughs, his mouth pink and open. You pull the pillow closer under your head, the baby shifting against your chest. “Din? Din. I said night first. I need you to know that I asked if it was night first. Okay?”

“Night first,” Din echoes, sighing as he settles in against whatever corner of the planet he’s on. “I got it, Nova. Go to sleep.”

“Is it night?” you yawn, and night doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. You don’t think that any of the syllables feel correct in your mouth, but you’re half asleep with Din’s voice up against your ear, and you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world that you cannot understand the full context of nighttime. “You know, out on the planet?”

“No,” Din says, and you blink yourself awake. “Technically, it’s early morning.”

“Formality,” you whisper, sinking back down into the sweet, warm embrace of your blankets, “technicality. That’s a technicality, Din. It’s nighttime. Sleep time. Do you understand?”

“Mandalorians don’t adhere to nighttime being sleep time,” Din argues, and your heart is doing cartwheels with how light his voice is, how easily he’s talking, how he doesn’t sound betrayed anymore. It’s like the first time he’d left when the two of you first got together—warm, happy, new.

“You lie,” you yawn, curling up, close to the baby. “Mandalorians do. Bounty hunters don’t.”

“Hard to tell,” Din counters, “I’m both.”

“Go sleepy,” you say, which isn’t even a real sentence, and you hear him laugh against the commlink, and then you’ve faded off into dreamland.

When you wake up, your comm is blinking. You startle, kicking the blanket up from where it’s tucked around your feet, heart hammering loud and intense. “Yeah?” you squeak into it, voice rough around the edges with sleep, trying to coax your heartbeat back to its normal rhythm.

“Are you awake?”

“Am now,” you say, grabbing the baby up and placing him in this cradle so you don’t scramble over him in the darkness. “Wh—do you need me to pick you up?”

“No,” Din says, “I’m outside.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m outside,” he repeats, and you look around in complete bewilderment, trying to reconcile the image of him outside of the Crest and the sound of him in your ear. “Open the airlocks.”

“You have your heat signature,” you say, stumbling over to where the control panel is, “can’t you unlock it by your sheer—hotness alone?”

“Hotness,” Din repeats, flat.

“I’m allowed to call you hot,” you say, affronted, before you realize that he means that you said the wrong conjugation of the word. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Din says, and then the gangplank lowers, and you’re staring at him. He’s tall and he’s so shiny, shimmering in the atmosphere of the planet, and all you want to do is run into his arms.

“Bounty?”

“Not caught,” Din confirms, and you walk a few steps forward until you can touch him. “I have eyes on him, but he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You look up at him, confused, still blinking around the sleep that’s still in the corners of your eyes. Din’s arm wraps around you, pulls you into the beskar, and you let out a breath, content. “What…do you mean, exactly?”

“He’s at an inn,” Din says, and starts leading you outside of the ship. “Come on.”

“Din,” you counter, looking back and forth to the planet’s surface to the dark interior of the Crest, “I am really not understanding what you mean.”

Din sighs, low and easy, and stops halfway down the gangplank. “His girlfriend showed up. I saw them get a room at an inn in town, and I put a direct tracker on his bag as I walked by him. He’s going to be in there for at least an hour. I know where he is. I know where he’s going. I want to show you something. Come on.”

You stare at him, eyebrow still furrowed. “You’re not—grabbing the bounty because…because he’s having sex?”

“His crime wasn’t horrible. Figured I’d give him an hour,” Din shrugs, and you blink at him, completely blank. “What?”

“You have gone soft, Mandalorian,” you say, looking up at him, letting his hand fall into yours, the yellow pads of his gloved thumbs grazing over the gaps in your fingers. “You’re giving up a bounty so he can get it on? Are you the same man who froze the one you struck a deal with back in the Mid Rim just because you wanted to fuck me?”

“I’d want every last second with you,” Din says, and everything in your melts. His head is cocked at you, and your stomach does somersaults with how you know he’s looking at you under there.

“Oh,” you manage, and then he starts moving, and the shimmering horizon of a small city appears before you. You’re distracted by its glitter—just a bit, but its enough to keep your attention—and you keep moving, wordless, stumbling through the ground’s terrain. “What are we doing here?” you whisper, watching as the people you pass keep their gaze trained on the both of you—the shiny Mandalorian, and the girl walking twice as fast trying to keep up with his long strides.

“Clothes,” Din says, and you’re still not awake enough to understand what he means. “The ones that I promised you four planets ago.”

“Oh,” you echo again, and then your eyes travel down to what you’re wearing, and you nod. Everything starts clicking into place. Why you’re here, why he returned to the Crest to pick you up, why he let the man he’s hunting down have a quickie in this inn with his girlfriend. Din’s showing you the thing he promised you when he proposed—he’d drop it—all of it, the bounties, the hunt, the armor—for you. You swallow around tears again, before you even realize they’re there.

Slowly, the town comes into view. The planet’s atmosphere is similar to Tatooine’s, hot and sandy, and everything that juts up from the terrain looks like a mirage until you’re on top of it. The people here, varied in size and species, are loud and dynamic, and you have to sidestep speeders and whatever’s being sold out on the street, just trying to keep and match Din’s pace. He’s so good at it, even on the sandy planets he hates. Maybe it’s the beskar, maybe it’s just that his shoes hold up against the hot terrain more than your old boots do, or maybe it’s just from the years of practice traversing across different ground. You try your best to follow his hulking footsteps, but with the outside factor and your wandering eyes, it’s difficult.

When Din does stop, you’re so distracted by the rest of the world around you that you almost slam headfirst into his armor.

“Here,” he says, decidedly, looking down at you. “For clothes. Does this seem okay?”

You nod, stepping through the vestibule. The darkness of the store feels cavelike in contrast to the bright, sandy planet just a few footsteps back, and you blink a few times before your eyes adjust to the low light.

“Um,” you whisper, “Din, what planet are we on?”

“Er’kit,” he answers, gloved fingers reaching out to touch a cloak that’s hanging from the rack. “They might not have everything, here, because the entire planet has the same hot atmosphere. But it’ll be enough to get you started.”

“I do not need to get started,” you whisper as three cloaked people in tan robes and light fabric head to the storefront, arms laden with their selections, “I need, like, three shirts. Maybe a pair of pants. And underwear. I can get that all here—”

“I promised you clothes,” Din argues, and then his hands are your hips, swiveling past you to get to the other side of the store, where trousers and loose shirts are hung, all in varying shades from white to black, all neutrals. Typical sand planet clothes, the same kind you collected when you first picked out your own after escaping from Jacterr. Din’s pulling down everything that’s even remotely in your size, and you’re just staring at him. Everyone else seems to be just as transfixed with the armored Mandalorian in the middle of the desert, hauling down an array of shirts and pants and underwear for his considerably shorter and less shiny companion. “How’s this?”

You blink at him, brain stuck on how ridiculous it looks for Din to be holding this many clothes. “Well,” you start, “I think that’s probably triple how many articles of clothing than I’ve ever owned, so that whole comment earlier about this getting started may be a little too eager—”

“Let’s go pay for them,” Din interrupts, and you stare at him.

“I don’t need that many,” you argue, trying to understand where the hell he’s coming from. “Really, D—Mando, just a few things to replace the ones we’ve torn to shreds—” another group of people passing makes your voice cut off, and you step closer to Din, tracking your face in the visor, reflection just as bewildered as you feel. “Plus,” you whisper, blinking as you raise your chin up to meet his helmet, “I have to try them on to make sure they fit.”

He stares at you. Maker, he looks so intimidating when he wants to, so commanding, so powerful. You don’t shy away, though, just cock your head to the side like he does when he’s trying to understand what you mean or wants you to be held under his gaze enough for the butterflies to swirl up in your belly.

“Where’s the closest dressing room?” you ask a passerby clerk, and she gestures toward the very back of the store, where a small, dimly lit hallway opens up to another alcove. You don’t break your staring contest with Din, and, when the clerk has passed, you grab his hand and pull your Mandalorian after you, heart hammering. You look both ways before you step down the hallway, but everyone in the store is either entirely distracted with picking out their own clothes or are up at the register with the worker you just asked, so you pull Din in behind you and lock the door.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and even modulated, it’s low and quick. Urgent. You bite down on your lip as he slowly puts the clothes on the bench at the far end of the dressing room, and, before you lose your nerve at the collection of people still left in the store and the wide expanse of space where the dressing room meets the open air of the building, you pull your shirt off.

Din sighs. Loud. For someone who moves so quiet, so stealthily, when he’s out hunting people for a living, he has quite the tendency to moan whenever he’s near your body. His helmet moves as he sweeps you up and down, and before you lose your nerve, you pull your pants off, too. You hadn’t put any bra or undershirt back on after showering last night, so, beside your panties, you’re completely naked. It’s cold in here, freezing in comparison to the ultraviolet, simmering heat on the planet outside, and with the combination of your temperature and how tantalizing you’re being, your nipples harden. You don’t do anything. You don’t try to cover up, you don’t try to move towards him, you just stand there, every inch of your skin bare except for the underwear you have hiked up over your hips, black and revealing. Din sags where he’s standing as you let your hair down from where it was pinned on the top of your head, letting your hand trail past your chest as you lower your arms, eyes doe-wide and innocent, pinching at your right nipple as you do so.

You’re not sure why it’s so easy to be so brazen in a place so public, but you step forward, just a little, letting your mouth fall open as both of your hands return to your tits, tracing lines over your exposed skin. Din’s leaning back against the wall, now, everything he piled into his arms earlier forgotten on the floor, strewn across the bench. You step closer still, one hand still flicking and pulsing near your nipple, other hand trailing down your open skin towards where the line of your panties are.

“Nova,” Din says, and you’re sure he’s meaning to warn you, but his voice comes out strained and desperate. When you step closer to him still, you watch how he stiffens even through his full Mandalorian regalia, tongue swiping out of your mouth as you imagine how risky it would be to suck him off in here, how public it is, how quiet he’d have to keep as your mouth was wet and hot around him, tongue fluttering in and out, the vacuum of your lips crushing and warm. You pick up Din’s gloved hand, pulling it off by the yellow tips, all while maintain eye contact with him. This is the most dominant you’ve been, you think, especially in a place this public, where anyone could walk down the hallway and see the both of you in there. But you bite your lip as you bring Din’s hand to your mouth, putting his thumb in your mouth, refusing to break eye contact. With your free hand, you slip past the waistband of your panties, middle finger dipping straight down into your slick, and a small moan comes out of your mouth around Din’s thumb.

You know how badly you’re teasing him, and you know how hard he’s going to want to fuck you for it later, so, instead of shying away, you push the tip of your finger inside you, slowly pumping and moving as you’re sucking on him, tits still exposed and perky with how much you’re turned on, Din’s fingers in your mouth. His breath is hitching. He’s so hard. You keep bumping into the bulge in his pants as you finger fuck yourself, and every time your knuckles graze against him, Din’s breath gets faster, heavier, more dangerous.

“What?” you ask, finally, eyebrows raised. Something about the fear of getting caught is making you bolder and bolder, and knowing how much you’re affecting Din while you’re totally naked, dripping around your fingers, makes it easier to forget anyone could be listening.

“You—” Din whispers, his voice cutting off in a wheeze, “you’re fucking killing me, you know that? Dirty girl.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you ask, raising your left eyebrow, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering, how your ears are pulsing with your heartbeat. “You gonna put any of these clothes on me or are you just gonna stand there salivating over how much you want me?”

Everything in you is burning. Some logical, embarrassed voice in the back of your head is screaming at you to stop being so cocky, so brazen, but with the way you can feel yourself tightening around your own fingers, how wet the inside of your panties are around your hand, it’s impossible to stop.

Before you can try to taunt Din again, he moves. Lightning fast. One minute, you’re pressing him against the wall, anchoring him there with your naked body and your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, and the next, he’s slamming you up against the same spot, face-first. You gasp with the speed of it, how rough he is with you, and when he pushes you against the wall, you moan, barely disguised against your shoulder and the music that’s playing from the storefront. You’re expecting him to yank your panties down and push himself inside you, but when it doesn’t come, you buck up against where you can feel how hard he is, trying to encourage him with just your body.

“Dirty girl,” Din whispers again, his voice low and menacing, and absolutely everything in you is on fire. You gasp as his ungloved hand comes down on your ass, hard, intentional. The logical part of you is still yelling to stop, that you’re so exposed, that you have to shut up and bite your tongue or you’re going to be found in here getting fucked senseless by a Mandalorian, but your desire doesn’t give one single fuck. You want him, here, now. You want him to sink into you, hit every single inch, leave you devastated to make up for the look on his face when Din realized you were Force sensitive, use your pussy as punishment.

But he doesn’t fuck you. He doesn’t pull his pants down, doesn’t start thrusting. Instead, he wraps his gloved hand in your hair, fistfuls of it gathered up at the crown of your head. You gasp as you feel his ungloved one travel from the nape of your neck all the way down to the small of your back. Din freezes, for just a second, and you’re so strung out on his touch that you would let him do literally anything. You feel high, completely buzzing in an astral plane, shivering with how turned on you are, with the knowledge that anyone could walk in on you. His hand slips down, a singular finger tracing just under the outline of where it is on either cheek, and you’re expecting him to pull it down, rip it off you so that he can redress you in something new, but he doesn’t. Instead, over the fabric, he runs his pointer finger down between either cheek, pulsing it right over every ridge, and it feels so foreign, so dirty, that you can’t stifle the moan that comes out of your mouth.

“Shut up,” Din whispers, so deadly, “I can’t touch you if you’re letting the whole town know. Understood?”

“Where are you t—touching me?” you breathe back, heart hammering as he pushes the tip of his finger in between the valley of your ass, and then it disappears. You’re about to groan in protest, tell him he can touch you anywhere he wants, that he owns every inch of your body, before his hand reappears at the front of your panties, yanking the waistband of them down so he can plunge his fingers inside you. The only reason you’re not screaming out in pleasure is because Din’s other hand, the one that was tangled up in your hair, is now pressed flat against your mouth. You sag against him, knees buckling as he works his fingers in you, pumping and out, and your vision is clouding with how close you’re getting, and you’re pretty sure Din could hold you right here forever on the edge of an orgasm, and you’d die happy. But then, right before you’re about to let go, shaking and heaving, the bounty puck strapped to his wrist is blinking, and Din’s fingers are out of you, lightning quick.

“Please,” you moan, so desperate, turning around, breath heavy, hands fluttering towards Din’s wrist to drag it back to touch you, “please, I’m so close, can we wait two seconds—”

“We have to go,” Din interrupts, but he sounds just as dejected and needy as you do, and you blink, trying to come back down to somewhere normal, as he throws you new clothes. Black shirt—a tank top made of thick, durable ribbed material, and a pair of tan cargo pants that were identical to the ones he ripped to shreds a few planets back. You gather up all the tags, fumbling with trying to pin your hair back out of your eyes, barely buttoning the pants over your soaked panties before Din’s flashing out o the dressing room, and you load your arms with enough clothing as you can, shoving fabric into your back as Din throws a handful of credits at the clerk, more than enough to cover whatever you’ve taken, and you try your best to keep moving in his footsteps, immediately attacked by the heat and the sun reflecting off the beskar.

“What’s wrong,” you holler at him as he runs, expertly weaving in and out of the crowded streets. “Hey! Where are we going?”

Din stops, so sudden you almost collide into him all over again, takes your hand, and keeps running. You’re not prepared for this. You’re quick when you need to be, but your body aches from sleeping funny around the baby last night, and your body still wants the orgasm Din got you on the edge of just a minute ago, and it’s so fucking bright out here, and your breath is quick and shallow in your throat.

“Bounty’s running,” is all he manages, and then you’re being yanked behind him again, trying to keep your feet moving in a pace that’s steady, if not fast, sweaty and covered with dust from Er’kit’s sandy atmosphere.

The noise comes before you’re even aware of what it is, the whine and pitch of the TIE fighter familiar and angry.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you scream, and Din stops long enough for you to take cover behind the beskar before an array of blasts are rained down on the two of you. In the distance, just over the next few streets, you see two people joined at the wrist like you and Din are, tearing out of the inn he mentioned, and your heart sinks as the fighter turns back around, sending another set of bullets towards both of you, and Din pulls you around the corner right before the sand swells up and the rounds ricochet were you were just standing. “Why is the Empire here?” you scream, over the noise, as Din pulls his gun out of its holster and aims a few shots at the couple tearing through the sandy path.

“Bounty must have called them,” he volleys back, ducking behind the wall as the TIE fighter starts screeching towards the both of you instead, “he must have seen the Crest.”

The Crest, you think, okay, sure, maybe, but how did he know that was Din’s ship? Then, just as quickly—the baby.

“The baby!” you scream, over the noise of the ship hurtling over you, and Din shields your entire body with his, dragging the both of you around the corner. “Din! He’s alone on the ship—”

He turns around, grabbing your hips so that you’re right up against the beskar, and you stare straight into the visor. “Can you get to him?” he asks, and he’s so intentional with it, so quiet, and you blink, trying to make sure you feel steady enough to make a break for it.

“Yes,” you promise. “Can you get this Imperial scum off my back long enough for me to make it down the road?”

“Yes,” Din echoes, resolute. “I’ll meet you there in three minutes.”

“Be safe,” you say, and he presses the visor against your forehead, hand squeezing in yours, and then he’s up and out from around the wall, firing an entire armada at the TIE fighter, running towards where the bounty’s on the move, gaining speed as he shoots up into the sky. You swallow, press the symbol on your necklace between your two fingers for luck, and start running yourself.

You’re not fast. You’re not that quick on your feet, you’re so much better in the air, but the second your eyes collide with an abandoned speeded against the cantina, you hop on, revving the throttle. The presumable owner comes rushing out of the bar, yelling after you, but you go anyways, screaming your apologies into the wind. “I just need it for a second!” you scream to the dust behind you, “I’ll give it back, I promise!”

It’s much faster than you would have been on foot, and you pull up on the throttle as you zoom past where Din’s running. The bounty and his partner are still a considerable distance ahead of Din, but he’s gaining speed, and you’re the fastest in this particular equation. You exhale, praying to the Maker above that you don’t completely wipe out with the maneuver you’ve never attempted, and throw the contents of the compartment on the back of your speeder at the bounty. It doesn’t hit him square in the middle of the back like you intended, but it knocks into his shoulder, hard, and the two of them go down face first into the sand as Din catches up to them.

The TIE fighter screeches from behind you, and you chance one look at where it’s gaining speed, and you swing the bike around clumsily to shoot what’s left of your bullets into the sky. None of your shots land, but that doesn’t matter, because the fighter veers noisily off its course and you’re able to shudder to a halt, jump down into the sand, and run furiously towards the gangplank. The airlocks hiss as you get close enough to unlock them with your heat signature, and you thunder up the plank, where the baby’s sitting in the middle of the floor, the rest of your food supply strewn out around him.

All the adrenaline runs out of you backward as you fall to your knees on the floor of the Crest, looking in disbelief at the rest of the stock, which is all over the floor.

“You are a little menace,” you say, but you can’t even be angry, because you’re so grateful he’s standing right there, little green belly full, eyes open and full of love. You pull him towards your chest, just for a second, and then you hear the screeching return. You hoist the gangplank up as quickly as you can before the noise multiplies.

“Get in your cradle,” you toss at the baby as you climb the ladder, and as you’re strapping in, you hear the egg zoom up the stairs behind you, parking on top of the copilot’s seat. You see Din out of the Crest’s front window, gun to both bounties, and as the fleet of TIE fighters whine in the sky above, your heart does backflips, stomach unsettled. “Shit.”

You’re about to lift off, fly the rest of the fighters out of the sky, or at least send them on wild goose chase after you so Din can get a secure hold on the bounties, but then you see the gun in the woman’s hand and every single other instinct leaves your head except to protect Din. You hurl yourself back down the ladder, starting the ship up as you grab whatever weapon’s closest in the armory and thunder back down the gangplank.

She has her gun to his head. It’s probably not going to do anything, because it’s weak and rickety and no match for Mandalorian beskar, but the fear inside your chest is dizzying and real. You scream at her as you advance, trying to balance the weight of the heavy blaster in your hand while attempting to look menacing. She catches your eye before three new fighters swoop overhead, and you scream, unleashing bullets at the sky. None of them land this time either, but it’s enough for one to crash into the other, and the third has to circle up an away so they won’t be dragged into the impact. You stagger forward, trying to raise the blaster to a steady grip. It’s so heavy. You think Din’s yelling at you through the helmet, but the noise of the crash and the remaining fighters popping out of space and into the planet’s atmosphere is way too loud.

“Don’t you dare,” you scream, running towards the bounty. She doesn’t flinch, so you grab the real quarry, the man handcuffed in iron on the ground, and push the heavy weight of the muzzle flush up against his temple. “You hurt mine, I’ll hurt yours,” you warn, trying to sound much more resolute and honest than you feel. You don’t dare to take your eyes off her, but you can hear the screech of the TIE fighters in the distance, and you don’t have enough time. “Let him go,” you warn, and she clicks the safety off. You have no intention of actually hurting the bounty, let alone sending him to his death, but with the ships gaining speed behind you and with her own blaster up against Din’s head, your choices are evaporating quicker than your deliberation. “Let him go,” you warn her again, and she pulls another blaster out of her pocket, and you’re staring down the iron as Din tries to wrestle the gun she’s pointed at his face out of her other hand. She fires a shot, just once, and you’re almost positive it’s just into the sandy ground, but you scream, guttural and unhinged, and you kick down the bounty as you swing the heavy blaster back towards his girlfriend.

Din’s laying in the dirt, and you’re crying, and you’re pretty sure you’re yelling for him, but she’s still threatening you with her blaster and you can hear how quickly the fighters are gaining speed and you panic. You see Din move—weakly, but enough to prove that he’s just injured, not fatally wounded—and something in you snaps. As the first fighter whizzes over your head, sending down an array of blasts, your hands drop the blaster and shove palm-first into the sky.

It wasn’t intentional. You were trying to not use the Force at all, especially in front of people who probably summoned the leftovers of the Empire here after you and Din and the baby, but the blaster is completely useless against an array of ships, and it unleashes itself from you like a lightning strike. You freeze the bullets from the TIE fighter midair, the fizzle and pulsing of their electricity surging as you scream, sending them straight back up where they came from. It’s enough to keep most of the ships back, diverting their route and blasts away from the four of you, and when you’re sure they’re not an immediate threat, you turn on the woman, who looks terrified of you.

You hate that look. It’s the same one that Din wore this morning, the same one that you knew anyone would ever have if you showed them what you could do. You’re not a scary person, let alone a menacing one, but you can feel how nervous she is, how much power you can harness. You breathe, exhaling slowly as you pull your hands down, level with her chest, and she’s frozen. You’re not trying to keep her there, to choke her off, but it’s like the power you can hold in your palms is doing it for you. Horrified, you pull your hands down, releasing her into the sand, and you help haul Din to his feet, grabbing the second set of cuffs for her as he starts pulling the couple towards the Crest. You follow behind, trudging through the sand you just kicked up, exhausted and aching.

You’re on the gangplank before you hear it. You feel it before it even jumps into the atmosphere, that pit of darkness and danger in your chest, but you’re so wiped from sending the other handful of ships packing that you think it’s just leftovers. It’s not. Out of nowhere, Gideon’s vantablack, arachnid TIE fighter unfolds its evil wings, and you collapse on the gangplank as it surges towards the five of you.

“Get inside,” you scream, and Din freezes the couple in one block of carbonite as you crack your neck, trying to summon the energy that all drained out of you a few seconds ago. The baby coos from behind you, and you shake your head as Gideon advances, shooting a volley of bullets towards the Crest. You stop them, but you’re shaking, hands trembling, watching helplessly as he swings around and doubles back. There are tears at the corners of your eyes, and your chest is heaving, the hot, dusty air parching and sucking a wound in your esophagus. “I can’t—” you manage, and then Din pulls the Crest up off the sand, and you hang onto the bar just inside of the gangplank, hauling yourself back up standing. You can feel the baby as strongly as Gideon’s ship is loud, and you feed off his energy, trying to gain enough back to stop the blasts that are being shot through the open air.

Being airborne helps. Even when you’re not at the helm, it steadies you to be skyward, to have gravity on your side. Gideon’s ship fires another round of blasts, and, to avoid them, the Crest slams back against the sand, and you tumble down again. You push yourself off the floor, still weak, still unable to hold a steady breath, and you watch as Gideon lands his ship and emerges from the cockpit.

Something ignites in his hands. At first, you think it’s still a mirage, that shimmering blackness against the hot horizon, but as Gideon advances, you realize exactly what it is. It’s a weapon you’ve only seen in nightmares and in the baby’s visions. It’s like a lightsaber, but sharper, electric. The blade is as dark as his ship is, so black it would scare darkness, and the edge frenzies with white-hot light. You skitter backward, up the gangplank, as Gideon advances through the sand. His face is set and angry, vicious and cold. You hold your hands up, heart hammering something horrible, knowing there’s not a chance in hell that you’re a match for him to begin with, but the last time you were face to face with a lightsaber—a real one, not one that came from dreams—you nearly died because of it.

“Fucking—move,” you shriek at Din, “I can’t hold him off!” And the Crest groans, but he’s able to get her airborne as Gideon breaks into a run, hurtling straight towards you with death and destruction in his eyes, the blade of the saber wicked and electric. Din’s able to get the ship up off the ground right before Gideon’s boots meet the end of the gangplank, and you scream, guttural and desperate, as you use the last remaining source of energy to push him back.

“There is no place,” Gideon screams, “that you can hide from me, Mandalorian.”

“Try me,” Din seethes, over the sound of the engine, pulling your slumped body backwards as the gangplank shakily rises.

“The baby or the girl,” Gideon says, his voice determined and taunting, “Next time, I’ll make you choose which one.”

You want to give him a snappy response how he’ll have to pry you from Din’s cold, dead hands, and the baby too, but you don’t even have the energy to sit up straight, and with the fury that Gideon is harnessing, you don’t want to put any ideas into his head. You nod wordlessly at Din that he can leave to navigate the ship, and he hurries up the ladder, punches in coordinates that are anywhere but Er’kit, and shoots the Crest up and out into the atmosphere before he returns, dropping to his knees and pulling you up against the wall, his hands suspending both of your cheeks to keep you upward.

“Novalise,” Din whispers, his voice low and urgent, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nova.”

“’M okay,” you manage, and the word itself takes so much out of you that you know Din can tell you’re lying. “I’m fine, I—”

He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” you ask, and you’re not trying to question him, but it comes out that way, loose and aggressive. “You—you got away. We got the bounties and we got away, Gideon didn’t touch me—”

“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”

“I am the danger,” you protest, blinking up at him, weakly grabbing onto his wrists where he’s suspending your face, holding you up. “I—I made the mistake, I used the Force when I wasn’t supposed to, and he probably already knew we were down here, and he—”

“Don’t you dare,” Din snaps, and you’re not even sure what he’s warning you about, but your mouth bubbles closed, staring up at him. Everything hurts. You’re still heaving and exhausted, and all you want to do is strip Din down and fall asleep pressed against his bare chest, but he’s still holding onto you like you’re the only thing in the galaxy, and you just let him. “That was not your fault. It was mine. I was reckless, I put you in a dangerous situation, and he got too close. You’re not going to ever be that close to Gideon—or anything dangerous—again, do you understand me?”

“I’m—” you start, and you know you should protest, tell Din that you’re a big girl, that you can handle yourself, that you don’t scare easy, but you simply don’t have enough energy left in you to even make the words come to the forefront of your mind, balance them on your tongue. “I protect you, remember?”

Din pulls the helmet off. It’s so abrupt that you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s off and you can see every inch of his beautiful face. His hands find your cheeks again, and you pull him down on the floor with you, enough so that you can climb into his lap, leaning up against the wall, body slumped in exhaustion against the weight of his armor.

“He almost took you,” Din whispers, and his voice sounds so much more fragile when it’s not running through the modulator. You swallow, trying not to cry. “I put you in that situation, cyar’ika, and he almost took you from me. Just to strip you for parts—for whatever makes that energy run through you. He would torture and kill you afterward just to get to me. There’s not a fucking chance I’m ever letting him get that close to you again. Do you understand me?”

You just nod, transfixed, lifting your fingers to graze up against his face. He doesn’t flinch when you touch him, doesn’t try to shy away. He stares at you, deep, soulful, protective.

“I can protect myself,” you say weakly, and Din shakes his head.

“You can. You’re more than capable. But it’s my job to keep you safe,” Din says, his voice broken and dark, “and I didn’t do that out there.”

“I’m fine,” you insist again, and then, because he’s still shaking his head, “I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine, okay, Din, I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here, I’m fine—”

“Were you scared out there?” he asks, forehead so warm against yours, and you want to nod, want to tell him you were terrified, but you think it might break him, that he’d stop down at the next port and reinforce every single part of the Crest, revamp the artillery, and buy you something completely bulletproof if you do, so you shake your head wordlessly.

“I don’t scare easy,” you remind him, the promise you made way back on Nevarro finding its way to your lips. “Remember?”

Din doesn’t have a chance to answer before his lips are up against yours, desperate and wet and warm. You let him lean you back into the wall, and all the dominant, intimidating energy that he pressed you up with not a half hour before has completely drained out of him. Din’s not devouring you because he’s insatiable. This time, it’s because he’s desperate.

You let him kiss you like it’s the first time all over again. You let yourself be pushed back, body limp to everything except Din’s touch, and he pulls you closer and closer, mouth roving down the pulse points on your neck, lips like wildfire. His hands tangle in your hair and you hum happily under the feeling, and, finally, he slides you down horizontal.

His eyes are hungry. Desperate, pulsing with the kind of energy that he barely lets out. He strips you down, quickly but gently, and then he starts prying off the armor, throwing it behind him all over the hull. You pull down on his pauldrons, releasing them as you run your own fingers through his dark hair, eyes fluttering open to the shape of his nose, his dark eyelashes, his pink mouth. If he catches you staring, he doesn’t let on, just keeps pushing his tongue inside you, licking the inside of your mouth, hands seizing both cheeks, trying to coax every kiss you have in you out of your open lips.

“What can I do?” Din murmurs. His voice is so deep, it rumbles through the butterflies in your belly, startling them to awaken.

“I’m okay,” you insist again, and then you realize he’s asking for permission. “Anything,” you breathe back into his mouth, trying to resuscitate him the best you can. “You can do anything to me. Touch me like you did back on Er’kit. Devour me like you did on Naator. Just take me however you want me—” you say, trying to throw all your energy into your words, but Din’s mouth cuts you off. You moan permission back into his lips, and he nods against you. When he pushes inside you, it’s slow. Agonizing, like he’s trying to savor every single second. You want him just as badly as you did back down in the dressing room, but you don’t dare tell him to move harder and faster. You let him pull and glide in and out, every single inch disappearing into the hollow of your stomach. Your breath is hot and heavy, and he’s murmuring something into your collarbone. Eventually, as you relax into the sensation of him inside you, Din picks up the pace. He’s slamming into you like you’re the last thing on earth, like you’re the only thing left. You can’t hear what he’s whispering against your skin, what he’s whining in your ears, because everything in you is focused on how his hips are hammering, how he’s burying himself to the hilt. It’s deafening and hot and you’re completely on autopilot, eyes wide open on the crush of space that’s just above the surface of the Crest, one hand tangled up in Din’s curls, the other on the side of his beautiful face, and as you feel him starting to quiver, he pulls his mouth off your neck and looks right at you.

It’s intimidating. You haven’t seen him this up close before, not without the helmet. Even the blip you had on Yavin before both of you came at the same time, it wasn’t like this. In the darkness, even, you can see how he’s looking at you. His gaze is frenzied and desperate, and you put both hands on either of his cheeks, trying to calm it down, trying to coax his orgasm out of him as gently as you can, but he’s looking at you with such a passion that you flush under his gaze.

“I’m not ever letting him touch you,” Din whispers, and the rhythm of it matches what he was whittling into your collarbone this whole time, “I’m never—ever—putting you in danger like that again, cyar’ika, never, never, never—”

“I’m okay,” you echo again, your vision starting to glaze with tears, and Din nods, breath heavy and hot against you as his hips pick up the rhythm, pounding every inch of his cock inside you as hard and intentional as he can. “I’m safe, you keep me safe—”

“No one is going to hurt you,” Din interrupts, like it’s a mantra, “I’ll protect you, I—I’ll protect you, I’ll protect you—”

“No one can touch me like you,” you whisper, and you mean it every way you possibly can, and Din’s sweaty forehead presses up against yours as he moans, low and strangled, and you hold his face as he lets go, pulsing and warm. You just keep him there, as long as you possibly can, staring deep into his eyes, letting your promise sink in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He stares at you. Your eyebrows furrow, looking up at him, trying to decode the look on his face. Finally, he kisses you, all that frenzy and desperation form earlier evaporated, and his lips are gentle against yours. You sigh as he pulls out, cleans himself off, and curls up next to you. You’re not even sure if you came, but you don’t care. You press yourself up to Din’s bare chest, trying to heal whatever you broke down there with your touch. The silence is so loud, but you stroke your fingers through his hair, trying to show him you’re not leaving, you’re not going to be torn away from him, that Gideon couldn’t ever get through him to grab you—but you’re not sure it’s going to do the trick. After what feels like hours, you’re able to summon words. You’re up in the crook of Din’s arm, face resting in the hollow of his neck.

“What did you mean earlier?” you ask, and in this silence, even your whisper is loud. “B—before you left, you told me that me being Force sensitive, it makes something…easy?”

He’s quiet. You wait, grazing your fingers over the side of his face. “I didn’t know how powerful you were,” he says, finally, and you bite your lip in the darkness, trying to understand. “I—the baby, he’s saved me like you did today. It takes everything out of him, after, but you know how much he protected us when we crashed on Dagobah. He’s done that. A few times.”

“He’s stronger than I am,” you start, and you feel Din’s head start shaking next to you.

“I think you match him. You’re just as powerful, Nova. I saw it today.”

Your heartbeat is fast and loud. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing—”

Din shifts to face you, and you try to find his brown eyes in the darkness. “You have the ability. You—you can learn. You can teach him.”

You blink at him before you sit up, realizing what he means. “I—I almost got us killed down there, today, Din, that was a very—” you inhale, sharply, “close call, and I got us out, I didn’t get hurt, b—but every time I use it, we get closer and closer to danger. I don’t want it. I don’t want to use it. It makes me and the baby targets, I meant what I said earlier—”

“You can train him,” Din repeats, sitting up beside you. You’re shaking your head fervently, and you don’t think he can see you, but you hope he feels it. “You can get strong together, and then—I don’t know, we can go after Gideon and stop him—”

“No,” you interrupt, voice high and shrill. “I don’t want to. I don’t want this. I’m putting us all in danger every time I use it—don’t you understand that? I almost got killed today because of it.” It’s too sharp. You feel it dagger him in the chest, and you reach forward for him. Din freezes, affronted, but he slowly lets you pull yourself up against him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, and you lay back down, entangled in each other’s arms. “I—I just don’t think I know enough about it to teach the baby. I don’t know enough about how it works myself. I think we need to find s—someone, another Jedi, I don’t know—to teach the both of us.”

“Gideon’s going to keep coming,” Din whispers back, suddenly, “and I don’t think I can protect both of you when he does.”

You don’t have it in you to argue, because somewhere deep and dark inside you, you know it’s the truth. The thought’s full of nightmares waiting for you. So you just pull Din’s head into your chest, wordless, and try your best to pull the both of you, heavy and exhausted, into sleep.

*

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*

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! this chapter broke me a little to write because i hate angst, but i promise after the storm that's coming, there's going to be so much happiness!! if you're an angst-hater like me, i promise sticking it out through these next few chapters will be worth it ;) thank you all so much again from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and patience!! your support truly means the world and more to me!!! love y'all!!!!!!

CHAPTER 21 WILL (LIKELY) BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST ON SATURDAY, MAY 15TH!!! i'll let you know if anything changes!!!

xoxo, amelie

[imthatchishiyasimp]

Loses and promises

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hi!!! I'm back hehe

It took me a long time to wrap my head around this idea, but I think I like how it turned out. I've been busy with work and I didn't get to post anything this week, I'm sorry.

Also: BIG THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT, THE LIKES AND REBLOGS AND FOLLOWS!!! I didn't, in a million times, thought you would like this THAT much. I really appreciate it, love you so much.

Without further ado, enjoy the read!!

TW: Blood, death and injuries are both mentioned and described

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knock on his door, hard and fast. Jumping in one foot, I try to keep my balance while I tie my trainer. I rest my back on the door to prevent the obvious fall, and I finish tying the shoe. Except the door suddenly opens and I fall backwards pretty fast with a little scream.

“What the fuck?” He says, catching me by the shoulders and stepping back. “What do you want?” The question rolls with scepticism as he turns me around to face me.

I arch my eyebrows and point my finger to my wrist, simulating the time in a wristwatch.

“Already?” Chishiya hums and crosses his arms. “I must have lost track of time. Have they already made the teams?”

“Yup, and guess who’s going to annoy you for the rest of the night…”

He makes a face that’s supposed to look bothered. And he sure is bothered, he hates having to deal with me during games. But I can see through that. He’s not the only one that hates pairing in games; I do too. Not only because he’s annoying and always acts like he’s the only one worthy of winning, but because I would hate to be involved in a heart’s game with him. I know he would do anything to survive, anything, even if it kills him. And I would too. And he knows it.

“We are leaving in a few minutes. Get ready, you lazy ass” I turn around and head to my room to finish getting ready. I hear his breathy laugh just as he starts closing the door of his room. I might need something to protect myself, or something to get rid of people. Who knows what we will be facing tonight.

The car is full of people and smells like alcohol, drugs and sweat. It’s disgusting and I try to get my face as far as it can go through the window.

“Will you stop moving? It’s pretty uncomfortable and I hate the smell as much as you, so either you make me a place in that window or I throw you off my lap” Chishiya says, calmly and quietly near my ear. My hair blows as his breath leaves his lips and chills run through my body, keeping me so still that it seems as if I turned into rock.

Indeed I am in his lap, and indeed I have been moving. But just because I want to breathe fresh air. Just because of that. Sure. No reason behind.

I laugh, in silence, but I laugh. There were too many people in need of refilling their visas, so we had to pair in greater groups. And I was so not gonna sit in the laps of the horny people overbooking the Beach. So , after a huge fight, I made Chishiya sit under me, in exchange of looking for white hair dye.

I move just a bit more to play with him and I feel him tense under me, his hands coming to my hips. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop” So I move to the edge and get comfortable on his knees, leaving him a small place on the window to put his face.

We watch as the city moves in darkness, leaving behind flashes of light holding game’s arenas. I can hear distant music and screams, gunshots and creepy sounds. Maybe it’s real, maybe it’s my imagination, but I would swear on my visa that they won’t stop when the sun comes up. It’s been so long that even when I close my eyes I can still listen to the people dying in their games. I try to silence them with other things, and sometimes it works, but I’m getting tired of it.

The doors of a forest garden awaits us as we arrive. It’s a closed part of the outskirts of the city, enclosing a private area huge enough to get lost wandering around.

The tables at both sides of the door have the phones and some weapons. There’s no limit entry and it looks like there might be enough phones for the lot of us. There are five other people alongside Chishiya and I. I only know two of them: Hiro, the cook at the Beach, and Ume, a bookish girl that’s always lounging in the silent rooms. The rest look kind of familiar but I don’t remember talking to them.

I get off Chishiya’s lap with a hop and take a phone off the table. It beeps with the facial recognition and just says to wait ten minutes to close the entry.

“Want to bet on the game?” Chishiya asks, nodding to the doors.

“Probably a physical, given that we are so far from the city. So I would say a spade one” I guess. It looks like we will have a big arena, and probably something to run from, if we take into account the weapons.

“Looks like your brain hasn’t died yet” He moves before I can get him with a punch.

“REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED, THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 7 PARTICIPANTS. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE”

All of us gather at the entrance, some of us already with weapons in our hands. I’ve chosen a blade big enough to protect me and some small knives hidden in my top and trainers. I don’t like guns and they run out of ammo quite quickly.

“DIFFICULTY: EIGHT OF SPADES”

“GAME: LABYRINTH”

“RULE: YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO CONTINUE IF YOU DON’T PASS THE TESTS. YOU MUST START ALONE, BUT YOU ARE NOT FORBIDDEN TO PAIR ONCE STARTED THE MAZE”.

“CLEAR CONDITION: FIND YOUR WAY AROUND THE MAZE AND SUCCESSFULLY OPEN THE EXIT DOOR. YOU CLEAR THE GAME WHEN YOU GET THROUGH THE EXIT DOOR”.

“TIME LIMIT: 2 HOURS”.

“AFTER THE 2 HOURS HAVE PASSED, THE MAZE WILL BE SHUT DOWN WITH NO EXIT”.

The doors open and we enter the maze. There are several “starts” written on the floor at the entrance of different passages. The walls are so high that I can’t even try to guess what’s at the top. It’s too dark to see more than a few meters from your hands, and the cold is starting to get annoying.

The seven of us position ourselves one next to each other on the central passages and we wait. No sound can be heard, no light can be seen. It’s creepy as hell. I look sideways and I spot Chishiya lowering his hood and lifting his sleeves. He totally hates running, but you can bet he’s gonna give it all.

“GAME START”

Without hesitation, I sprint into my passage.

I’ve been running non stop since the beginning, and this maze is big as hell itself. People always tell you to stick to the left or right and you will get to the end, and that I’ve been doing. But just when I could. There are so many traps around, it’s like they didn’t think we could survive this, so they threw everything they got.

From knife floors, poison ponds, holes… My feet are done for the day, my legs are bathed in blood from the knives and spikes, and I feel kinda dizzy because of the poison gas. But I keep running. The time is halfway gone, and I don’t think I’m even close to the exit.

I haven’t heard any of the other players since the start. I’m a bit worried, and I keep going back to their faces at the car, at the entrance and the moment I lost sight of them when I started running. Will I see them again? How many of them? Will someone make it?

I turn to the left and get thrown to the floor with a nudge on the nose.

“Holy fuck!” I scream in agony, holding my bleeding nose. I would bet my visa on it, it’s broken for sure. Oh God it hurts too much. My face feels heavy and it stings deep inside.

“Jesus, where the hell are you going without looking? Are you stupid? You could have met some kind of trap, idiot”

I look up and catch a glimpse of white hair. But just a glimpse, because the whole rest of Chishiya is covered in ashes. The bastard just stays there, looking down at me without offering a hand. Totally expected that, to be honest.

I get up and punch him straight in the chest. He howls and gets away looking angry. “You deserved that, you totally smashed your elbow on my face on purpose. You were just waiting there to punch me”

“What the fuck? Why would I?”

I study the situation and try to look for lies, but it’s a lost cause with him. “Shut up and start running, we have a long way to go”

So both of us pair up and keep on running together, helping each other in a few traps to minimize the damage. We still get burned and sliced, but we manage to stay together for a good twenty minutes.

Until we don’t.

We are on an empty corridor surrounded by bindweed. What I thought was going to be a calm and peaceful section turns into a nightmare. From nowhere, ropes start to come out and try to catch our feet, arms and trunk.

Both of us jump and get down to escape from the ropes, sometimes getting too close to the bushes and winning new bruises everywhere. The strength that these things have is incredible and intolerable. It feels as if my bones are breaking under the knots. I grasp Chishiya’s hand to keep from getting sucked into the wall, and he takes me out of it. His hand grips mine with a strength I didn’t know he possessed, and I dwell on the feeling of his cold and soft fingers around mine, enjoying the safety his presence gives anywhere he is.

Lost in his eyes, which are making sure I’m not caught into any ropes anymore, we get pulled away in an instant and Chishiya disappears from my sight into the wall, his eyes not leaving mine.

“No! You bastard! You don’t get to abandon me here! Come back!” I scream into the bushes. I slice the ropes with my knives and get away from that corridor as fast as I can.

My face still hurts from the nudge, and my arm feels funny. Both my legs are covered in bruises and cuts from the ropes and the falls. I’m a mess. Everything hurts. Everything is a mess.

I go back to the feeling of finding him. Maybe I didn’t dwell on it, but I felt safer, I felt relieved to have some company; I felt happy to have him there with me, to back me up and get me through difficult things. Will I see him again? Is he okay? Will he be there?

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You better be there when I get off this fucking maze, or I will search for you to cut you into pieces” I whisper to the night, running again, looking behind me from time to time to check if he’s behind me, stoping just before a turn to prevent another hit. He totally did that on purpose.

I step into a two paths corridor. Both of them are covered in darkness and I can’t say which one looks better. Not wanting to lose any more time, I take the right one, although it doesn’t take me long to return. The blood covers the floor and gets sticky when I step into it. I bend over to see what’s in front of me and gulp down seeing the body of Hiro full of insects eating him alive.

He’s whimpering in pain and coughing blood, moving just a bit, probably paralyzed. I don’t know when he catches me, but his eyes get full of tears and he mouths a silent plea, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the blood. I remember when I met him, asking for a bite of something after a run through the city and hungry enough to eat whatever. He made me a simple sandwich, but I swear it was the best one I have ever had. He stayed in the kitchen with me, talking about his life and asking too many questions. Ever since then, he’s always been there when I needed to disconnect from the games, from the people, from the world. Always with a smile and a new recipe to try.

Now all that is left is pain and suffering.

Getting as close as I dare, I whisper a silent sorry and goodbye before ending his suffering. I run away and don’t look back at all, his face and pain engraved in my mind.

When I get to the exit I almost scream in relief. It’s a big door made of small bars with a big “EXIT” written in red above it. The time is almost up and I can’t see anyone here. The place where I came from is not the only way of getting here, there are three more corridors ending in this place.

The thing is, the doors are closed, and they have a huge key hole in the middle. I look around and I spot a key shining on the top of the door. It’s hanging by a thread, laughing at me from up there.

I scoff, tired as I can be, and I stop in front of the door. Guessing from the place where it is, I must need to climb through the door and it doesn’t seem dangerous at all, but I still don’t trust it. Checking the time I decide that I can’t risk it on trying to search for another way of getting the key, so I grasp the bars.

The heat burns through me and paralyzes me in the spot. I feel as if my hand is going to come off right now. I let go of the door and caress the palm of my hand, blowing air as kindly as I can, tears streaming down my face of the pain.

“FIVE MINUTES LEFT”

“I hate this. I hate it so much” Curses leave my lips as I get higher and higher, once again at the door and burning my hands and feet in the process. I can’t feel it anymore, I just know it’s painful and it’s going to leave ugly scars. I grip the key and rip it from the thread and throw myself to the floor, not caring to limb down properly.

The floor meets my back and I roll over. I would have stayed there, I swear. I was done with everything. My whole body was hurting, my mind was going blank and kept screaming.

“Tsk” I hear some rustling near me and then a foot nudges me on the back of my head. “Are you alive there?” I moan in response and turn over, glaring at the clever smirk of Chishiya. “Do you mind handing over the key? I’m in desperate need of a shower”.

“I don’t know, would you mind stopping hitting me on purpose?” I mumble through moans of pain.

He sighs and bends next to me, placing his face just above mine, our noses almost touching. I can feel his breath, the quick rhythm it still has, the cold and the smell of sweat and toxic reaching me.

“For the last time, I did not hit you on purpose” He whispers looking straight at me.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I question. You won't ever know with him.

“Trust me, if I had hit you on purpose, I would have done it a lot harder”. His eyes hold that smart look, the condescending vibes all around him, but I think I can see worry and relief and…

“Oh fucking hell, yes! You guys made it! We are saved and alive and… Oh God, two minutes left, tell me you know how to open that door or I will kill myself right here” One of the guys we came with sprouts from a passage, holding Ume’s limping form and followed by another guy who’s gripping a tourniquet around his arm. I’m glad to see most of us are alive after that hell.

Chishiya takes the fey from my hand with caution to not touch the burnt parts of my palms and fingers. He quickly pushes the key into the lock and pushes the door hard.

I don’t know why, but I was scared of it not opening. Silly, I know, but after so many games with tricks at the end, I didn’t know what to expect. The phones beep immediately, and I struggle to get up to a sitting position.

“GAME CLEAR”.

“CONGRATULATIONS”.

Relief flows inside all of us, dropping to the floor and crying happy tears. Is it really a win? It doesn't feel like that anymore. I think I've lost some things inside those walls and darkness.

I thought I was hurting, but in just a second, all the injuries I have, start to really hurt and the pain makes me close my eyes and shake like crazy. I might need a whole week of rest after this.

Arms come from behind me and take me up. I’m lost in the sudden change of position and it takes me a while to realize Chishiya is holding me in a bridal style. He quickly gets ahead of the rest, not caring to check if they are following us, and heads to the place we left the car.

It’s a long way until we get there and I nod off a few times, resting my head and hiding in his soft tingling hair, taking his scent apart from all the other ones. I don’t dream at all, it’s all blank, but I wake up startled looking for Hiro or Chishiya, afraid they’re not here anymore. I get sad and I cry silently when I remember Hiro’s body and scared face, pleading for mercy; and I sigh with relief when I feel Chishiya holding me tighter after I wake up shaking, crossing our eyes and making me feel safe with just a look.

“Don’t ever disappear like that again. Don’t even dare. Promise me” I angrily say after one of my nightmares. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t need him to. He just needs to know. I pretend I don’t see the almost imperceptible nod he does once I return to put my head on his chest.

The ride back is a blur. We have more space now that two of us are missing, but it’s heavy inside. I keep next to Chishiya, him holding me while I rest and sleep in between nightmares. None of us has said anything since we left the forest. We are all relieving our paths along the maze, the things we saw and the hopelessness we felt, the fear of being left there forever.

The sunrise marks our arrival at the Beach. People there are waiting for the cars still gone and they welcome us with joy and worry. We are rushed to the medical room to get checked up on, and although I try to walk there, pathetically I must say, I can feel Chishiya is ready to ame me in case I fall. He leaves once An puts me on a bed and starts treating my wounds.

But I know he will be back. He always comes back. He promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Be safe and take care!!

[ptergwen]

the last time

warnings: angst and swearing

summary: here

-

“in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love.”

it feels like your stomach just dropped all the way down the cliff you’re standing on. peter grips your arm, pulling you away from the cloaked man. you know what you have to do.

your dad sent you and peter to vormir to get the soul stone. they’d both been to space once before this, and it didn’t end well. they were lucky to survive. most of the universe didn’t. now you have the chance to fight for the same thing they did. the other avengers needed all the help they could get to pull this off, so here you are.

you’ll hopefully be able to bring everyone back. you just didn’t realize you’d have to die for them to live.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, y/n. don’t listen to him.” peter rubs up and down your arm to calm you down, squinting his eyes at the man. you give him a halfhearted smile. all the words are stuck in your throat. you know he’s right, that one of you has to go. you’re not going to let it be peter.

you turn to face him with the same sad look. he shakes his head a bunch of times before you can say anything. “it’s true, peter. you know how nebula said gamora was here and never came back? he must have had to sacrifice her.” “no. no way. she... she could’ve gone somewhere else after-“

you cup both of peter’s cheeks, willing him to look at you. he puts his hands on top of yours and meets your eyes. nodding, you smooth your thumb across his skin gently.

“peter...” your voice breaks. you wanted to be strong for him, but it’s all hitting you at once. this is the last time you’ll see him. this is the last time you’ll see anyone.

“there’s gotta be another way, right? we’ll figure it out. you’re so smart. i know you can think of something.” he’s in denial. “no, peter. i can’t. i’m not my dad.” you let out a teary laugh, sniffling a bit. peter pulls you into his chest and holds you tightly against him. your arms hug his middle after a few seconds.

this is it. your final goodbye. you’ve been with peter for years, seen each other at your worst moments. nothing compares to what you’re going through right now. it’s never been so hard to let him go.

he presses his lips to your hair, which only makes you cry more. you’re finally able to pull away from his chest and crash your lips into his one last time. hands grasping at your waist, he kisses you back with tears running down his own cheeks. it’s messy and salty and heartbreaking, but it’s you guys. you wipe at the tear stains on peter’s suit and give him one more peck on his cheek.

“i love you the most, y/n. you know that, right? i’m so fucking in love with you,” peter chokes out, pressing his forehead against yours. you take a shaky breath and put your hands on his cheeks again. “i know, pete. i love you so much. so, so much.” you stay like that until both of you silently agree it’s time.

“now that you’ve said your goodbyes,” the red skull chimes in, “which one of you is it going to be?”

“me,” you and peter both say at the same time. huh? he looks at you with wide eyes. you’re just as confused as he is for once. “y/n, what? i thought we both decided it was gonna be me.” “no, that’s what i thought. you’re not doing this.”

the red skull sighs impatiently from behind you.

“please, y/n. i made a promise to your dad that i’d keep you safe out here. i can’t break that.” “i promised myself i wouldn’t let you die.” you give him a stern look. “maybe this is me dealing with some self-sacrificial stark shit right now, but i can’t break that either.”

ignoring everything you just said, peter moves to put his mask back on. you take it out of his hand. “uh, what the hell?” “peter, you‘re gonna do amazing things. you already do now. i can’t imagine what you’ll accomplish in ten years, or even one. you‘re not going yet.” he squeezes his eyes shut. “stop that. you will, too. just give me my mask back, y/n.”

you throw your hands up in disbelief, still holding it. “being rich isn’t amazing, peter! you have more going for you than i do. admit it.” he can’t help but frown at what you’re saying. this shouldn’t be your last memory together.

“baby, what are you talking about? you got to join the team, you make awesome high-tech stuff, you’re a genius. come on.” “here’s your mask.” you shove it into his hand, letting your touch linger for a moment. “i really do love you more than anything.” you suddenly make a run for the edge of the cliff before peter anticipates it.

he moves fast and shoots a web to pull you back, rushing over to you. “oh my god, y/n! what are you thinking?” “i’m thinking you need to get the stone. don’t worry about me.” you get yourself back up, only for peter to push you down again. so, he wants to fight you for this.

you knee his stomach from the ground so he falls over, taking the opportunity to jump for real. peter manages to lean over and shoot a taser web at you before you go too far. that one stings. you yelp and hold your arm where he got you, but you’re not giving up that easy.

“sorry, babe. didn’t mean to hurt you,” peter calls out, getting back on his feet. you walk the short distance over to him. “i’m doing this because i love you, okay? that’s all.” he whispers to you. with a fake smile, you take his hand. peter thinks that means you’re done. then, you use it to flip him onto his back. he groans in pain, not trying to get up this time.

now that he’s out for good, it’s really happening. you’re at peace with what you have to do. you take one final look at peter and start running. you run until you get to the edge of the cliff. peter must’ve realized what’s going on because you hear him calling your name. you forgot how much endurance he has in him.

“y/n, y/n stop!” he yells, already behind you. you stay put. “it shouldn’t be you! listen to me, it’s not too late to change your mind.” you don’t bother turning around to see him. you’ll give in if you do. “remember what i said, pete. all of it.”

with that, your heart beating hard in your ears, you throw yourself off the edge of the cliff. peter uses everything in him to web you to the side, but he can only get one out, so you grab onto a rock. not because you changed your mind. because you owe him a real final goodbye.

“wh- how am i out? i’ll come get you, just- fuck.” peter leans over the edge, looking down at you with watery eyes. you hold up his extra web cartridge and smile sadly. you took it when you were hugging earlier since you had a feeling he’d try to stop you.

“it’s okay, peter. you’ll be okay.” “y/n-“ you let go of the rock and fall fast, hitting the ground while peter cries out. “no!” he grips at the crumbling ground where you first jumped. your lifeless body is staring up at him. he could’ve stopped this. he drops to his knees as a loud sob racks through him, still looking down at you.

“no,” his voice is quiet, small, out of energy and broken. there’s no one here to dry his tears anymore.

-

peter isn’t sure how it happened, but he wakes up underwater. he pulls his head up with a cough. his eyes still feel puffy, so he couldn’t have been out too long. there’s something glowing in his hand. slowly, he opens his shaking hand and immediately recognizes what it is. the soul stone. red skull was right. peter lost who he loves all for a stupid fucking stone.

-

the whole team arrives back at the avengers facility at the same time, like bruce said they would. everyone seems so happy. thor got mjölnir back, scott is buzzing over steve, tony is laughing at one of nat’s jokes. tony. how is peter supposed to tell him what happened? his kid died, and it’s peter’s fault. he bursts into tears again at the thought of it. he’s surprised he even has more left in him.

tony is the first to notice. “parker, what’s wrong? why isn’t y/n with you?” the rest of the team rushes over to him. peter chokes out a sob, everything replaying in his head.

“she- she.” he can hardly breathe let alone speak. tony puts a hand on his shoulder. “kid, you’re scaring me. i can’t fix it unless you tell me what‘s up.” he waves for everyone else to back up so peter has space. bruce and nat share a look. “she’s gone, mr. stark! she’s not here. i re- i really messed up.”

peter throws the stone that he’s been holding at the floor. silently, rocket picks it up.

somehow understanding what he means, tony pulls peter in for a hug. he hurts like hell too, but this kid needs him right now. peter has always had a habit of blaming himself for things he can’t control. tony is pretty sure this is one of those things. he hugs him back as tight as he can.

“i’m so sorry, mr. stark. i’m so sorry.”

-

five years later and peter is numb. another stark left him, and he sort of gave up in life. at 21 years old. without a mentor, he got lost in the superhero world. spider-man went from being an avenger to party entertainment for kids. it’s an easy way to make money. the people loved him before, they’ll love him again. all he does now is book birthday parties and drink the nights away.

the only emotion peter still feels is anger. he hates the world and he hates what he’s done, or hasn’t done. every time he puts on that mask, it reminds him of the night you died. he has to fight the urge to rip it to shreds. if he didn’t need to pay the bills, he would’ve at this point. most of all, he resents himself for letting you down.

you sacrificed yourself for peter to lead a full life, and look what he’s done with it. he’s a drunk loser. that’s not what you wanted for him.

one day, it all changes.

there’s a knock at peter’s door. he grumbles something about paying his rent, expecting it to be his landlord. he opens it to find you instead. thinking he’s had too much to drink, he shuts the door in your face. you‘re a little bit shocked, but you knock again.

“um, peter? that’s you in there, right? pretty sure you’re the only peter parker in queens.” you call from the hallway. “whoever’s trying to fuck with me, just get out of here. i’m not in the mood today.” he flops back down on his couch, taking a sip of his nearly finished beer. you’re already fed up, so you open the door yourself.

“i said-“ he shuts up when you sit down next to him. “are you real? you can’t be... you died years ago.” “peter.” you take his hands. he’s confused, but lets you. it’s weird seeing him, both of you being adults now. you’ll have to get used to it.

“when you brought everyone back, it worked for me too.” he stares at you with his mouth hanging open for a minute. “that’s not possible. we did that a few days after you... you know.” “i know it sounds insane, but i came back on vormir. i had to find a way back to earth, which took a really long time. i’ve been looking for you since then. there’s no perfect way for me to explain all of this, but i promise it’s really me.”

you being here, it’s like peter was in a five year trance and he snapped out of it.

he throws his arms around you, you laughing and threading your fingers through his matted curls. he’s convinced you’ll disappear again if he lets you go, so he holds you even tighter.

“y/n, baby. oh my god. i missed you so much. i’m sorry it’s such a mess here.” you wind your arms around his neck. “you haven’t changed a bit, pete.” “i brought you back, you brought me back.”

[atalho-s]

Sweet Sugar

4 | Crosses

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: swear words, underage drinking (not much tho, nothing descritive and nothing like “Skins” lmao), suggestive scenes in some chapters, not smut!! but minors be aware. Fluff/angst/drama/ Y/n and Tom being stupid teenagers with feelings.

words: 2.5 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, Sorry for any mistakes! If you want to be tag on the next chapters, please let me know

Summary: Y/n, Harrison and Tom has always been best friends. Since childhood they’ve always been close, but what happens if after a break up with her first boyfriend, she starts to feel something more about Tom

PART 4! If you want to read the other parts click here

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I woke up the other day feeling a little better, which was good. I washed my face thoroughly, put on a pair of jeans, a Beatles T-shirt along with a jacket and left my room, ready for another week of torture.

- Good morning mom... - I was saying going down the stairs, but I remembered that she had already left for work. Which was good, because that way I didn't have to talk about the party.

I had my coffee, in the silenc  and soon after opened my phone, until I got on Instagram and saw that Tom had posted pictures of the party. The caption said: Thank you all! you guys are awesome! The photos from the party were great 😂

I was scrolling the photos, the first ones were all of us at the table, some were blurry of the people dancing... until I saw one of him with other people from school: Meghan was hugged him from the side making the peace sign with her fingers and he was kissing the top of her head. I sighed feeling my eyes fill with tears again. Okay, maybe I wasn't as ok as I thought.

I blocked my phone and put it in my pocket, taking my backpack and leaving the house, otherwise I would going to be late. I had to focus on school, not crying for silly things, I had to pay attention in my tests, that was more important than anything.

I went down the street and found Haz already waiting for me in the same place, I approached him and when he looked at my face, he made a pitying one.

- You saw the photos didn't you? - he asked and I nodded as he hugged me.

- It's alright Haz, I'll be fine- I said releasing him after a few seconds and he looked at me raising an eyebrow doubtingly - It's no big deal! By the way, I won't talk about it anymore, if we don't go now, we'll be late for school. - I said pulling him and we started walking.

- Okay... But just to close this subject, Tom sent me a message yesterday asking if you were okay and if there was anything wrong because you left early without saying goodbye.

- Hmm, and you didn't say anything right?

- Of course not! I just said that you weren't very used to drinking and that was all, and he believed... - Haz said and I breathed a sigh of relief.

- Good... He also texted me yesterday, he even wanted me to go to his house to tell me about Meghan.

- Well, whether way, he still thinks he's your best friend, nothing more than that...- Haz said, and I hated that he was right.

- It's true, and he's just my best friend, nothing more... - I emphasized the JUST- Did he tell you anything else about Meghan? - I asked and when Haz was going to answer I cut him - Never mind, It’s better if i don’t know. - I said waving my hand in the air.

- If you want it that way... - he replied. - Oh god you two have the same class today right? - he asked and I put my hand in my forehead. I had forgotten that I had English today for the first two classes and Tom would be sitting right next to me.

- I had even forgotten about that. But you know what? I'm going to stay there like a champ and ignore everything. - I said determined and Haz laughed feeling a little sad for me.

- Okay, I support that, but...- he was talking and I cut him again saying: shhh.

- No buts, and now enough of this subject, because we're already arriving. - I said and he rolled his eyes in agreement.

We arrived at the corner and Tom was already waiting for us as usual. He wore a blue sweatshirt and a backwards cap, black jeans and white sneakers. Obviously he was gorgeous as usual, which was ridiculous, but no sign of Meghan, which was good for now...

I tightened my grip on Haz's arm that I was hooked on and he smiled encouragingly. We got closer and Tom looked up from his phone, hanging up and putting it in his pocket.

- Hey strangers! - He said putting the backpack on his back, shaking hands with Haz and me with the usual kiss on the forehead. I lowered my eyes, smelling his scent and smirked. - You better y/n?

- I am, staying in bed all day yesterday did me good. - I said as we headed towards the stairs.

- That's good! And even better that now you have two classes with me- he said winking and Haz looked at me apprehensively.

- HA-HA, very funny. Too bad I'll have to pay attention in class and I won't be able to talk to you. - I said shrugging and Tom looked at me with an ironic face.

- Wow shortie, I felt rejected now. - He said pouting and I rolled my eyes. Of rejection I knew well.

- Well, I have to go because I have a presentation about geography, so, see you guys later? - Haz said when we arrived in the hallway, waving and looking at me discreetly as if he was saying: good luck.

- Let's go, grumpy face? - Tom said pointed for me to go ahead. I rolled my eyes looking at him, which he laughed and we went to the class.

I sat a little further back in my usual seat and Tom sat behind me. I was feeling claustrophobic, but it was only two classes, I could survive this. But when Mr. Ribbs came into the room and started talking, I lost all courage i had.

- Good morning students! Today the two classes will be more dynamic. As I know you had a difficult week, with so many papers and tests, I decided to leave these classes for you to go to the library and pick up any book to read and then give me a summary about it. - he was talking and I was excited, because I loved reading and I could still get my book and be quiet without having to talk to Tom, right? - But... I want you to do this in pairs. - wrong - Happy reading! - He said and everyone stood up forming their pairs and leaving the room one by one.

I felt someone nudge my shoulder and tooking a deep breath I turned around, seeing a smiling Tom.

- Good, reading... At least you like to read, because I with my dyslexia... - he laughed.

- Yeah good... it fit like a glove... Shall we go? - I said and we got up going towards the library. If Tom thought my way of talking was a little dry, he didn't react, which was good.

We arrived at the library and I was looking among the shelves for something easy and good for us to read.

- Y/n, darling... I have to tell you about yesterday - Tom started talking excitedly as he followed me through the halls. - After you and Haz left, a lot things happened...

- Hmm, I'm glad you had fun Tom. - I said a little disinterested picking up some books and looking at the synopsis.

- Yea! I had a lot of fun, but what happened was...

- Hey, how about we read Pride and Prejudice? It's one of my favorites, I think it's a good one, because we just need to read the main parts to refresh our memory. - I said, interrupting him.

-Yeah... Sure, I think it's a good one. - he said as I grabbed Jane Austen's book off the shelf and headed toward one of the tables.

- Shortie, how about if we read this outside? I think it's better than staying here, besides, we can talk better. - Tom said and I stopped turning around. Damn it, I was counting on staying there in the library anyway, so he wouldn't be able to say anything about the night before, because they were going to tell him to be quiet.

- Okay, good idea... - I said, giving up on to try to inventing another excuse.

We left the library and headed towards some tables outside. They were empty, except for a couple of couples scattered around the yard who had the same idea. I sat down and Tom sat next to me putting the book on the table and pulling out his notebook so we could write something down.

- So, as I was saying... We were on the dance floor, right, and Meghan and I were talking about the theater and other things, until... Guess what? - He started talking and I raised my eyebrow, while trying to distract myself with the book. - She said she thought I was cute and that I had a cute, sexy look. - He continued and I laughed ironically.

- So far so good, right... Until she just kissed me in the middle of the dance floor! - He said as if it were the most extraordinary thing in the world. Yeah, I thought with myself, I was there and saw everything, that's why I'm feeling bad and I can't even look at your face right now... I wanted to say it, but I just looked at him pretending to be interested.

- And mate, it was the best kiss of my life! We stayed together practically all night... Damn, I've dreamed about this so much since childhood...

- Good Tom, it must have been a really good birthday gift, right? - I said, looking at the book again.

- Yea! It was perfect...- he said and I could feel him staring at me. - Hey, you don't seem very excited about my little conquest... - he nudged me pouting and I looked at him.

- Nah, it's just that you guys are always hooking up lately, so I'm just not surprised...- I replied shrugging.

- Y/n Meghan is not just a hook up, she is an old passion, she is special - he said and I felt my heart ache a little while looking away. - You dont like her?

- It's not that I don't like her... I don't even know her, I just... I think she did it after you started getting more popular with the theater, because before that she didn't even look at you...

- That's not true, besides, people can change right? Maybe she realized that I'm not as bad as she thought before... I don't know... But as you said, you don't even know her, so I didn't understand you being mad like that. -he said scribbling in his notebook.

- It's not that I'm mad, I just... I didn't wake up very well today, that's all... 

- Yeah... But you don't need to project that to others around you, I thought you'd be happy for me.- Tom said and I looked at him ironically.

- Yeah, but there are days when we're not okay Thomas and not in the mood to be throwing confetti at every girl your friend kiss at some party. - I said and regretted it right away, it wasn't fair to him.

Tom looked at me in surprise, as I had never talk with him like that. Even as kids we didn't fight, why was I being such a bitch now? He took his things in silence and walked away leaving me with tears in my eyes.

I shook my head trying to get rid of what had just happened. I picked up the book and tried to read it, but I couldn't even get past the first line. Damn, why did I have to have those feelings? It wasn't fair.

I thought about going after Tom and apologizing, but I don't think he wanted to see me right now. A few minutes passed and the class was almost finishing when I felt someone nudge my shoulder. I turned in hopes of seeing Tom, but was surprised to see Steven standing up in front of me.

- Are you okay? I heard you fighting with Tom earlier, I never saw you guys fight like that, so I was worried. - he asked.

- I'm fine Stev, it was just a silly disagreement, nothing to worry about. Are you okay? - I asked trying to change the subject.

- Yeah, just studying a lot, you know, I have to go to business school. - he said and I agreed. Steven always wanted to work at his father's company, but for that he had to go to business school in Japan, because there was one of the company's units there and that's where his father wanted him to live. A lot of his family was Japanese, so he had an advantage with the language and culture. But that was one of the reasons we broke up, after fighting a lot about who was going to live where. - And you still focused on journalism?

- Of course, forever and always. - I said and we laughed, hearing the bell saying the class are over.

- Well, I have to go, I have to meet Elle, good luck with your essay. - He said pointing to the book.

- For you too. - I said smiling and he left towards the building.

I got up to get my things, scanning the yard with my eyes, but there was no sign of Tom. I sighed and put my headphones on, heading towards our tree. As I was already out there I ended up arriving first, so I sat down and played the song Crosses by José González.

I waited a few minutes and saw Haz approaching and I took off my headphones as I watched him sit beside me.

- So..How everything went? Where is Tom?-  he asked looking around.

- A disaster... - I said, rubbing my hands over my face. - We ended up arguing, I said some things without thinking and he left without saying anything.

- Oh y/n... I don't even know what to say, but did you confess something to him? he asked and I widened my eyes.

- No! Are you crazy? I told him I didn't trust Meghan, but in a rude way... - I said and Haz took a deep breath hugging me sideways.

- Well, you can't control your feelings...

- But I can control my tongue. - I said and we laughed a little. - How was it with Gracie? Did you guys talked today? - I said changing the subject.

- I talked to her a lot by text during class, I even asked her if she wanted to spend some time with us now, but she said she had to hang with her friends...

- Hmm. - I said putting my hand on my chin losing myself in thoughts as I watched the patio to see if I could see Tom. And after a lot of looking I found him. And there he was sitting on one of the benches near the building with Meghan hugging him, she with his cap on her head and the two of them were laughing and talking excitedly to each other. Until he gave her a kiss and she reciprocated.

[black-rose-writings]

I read Ruin and Rising because I’m bored

And I also hate myself

Like with the last book, I have a vague idea of the plot and stuff from tumblr and fanfics. I will also be refering to Darkling as Sasha for most of this.

I am still Darklina trash and don’t particularly like Mal.

On a different note, I’ve finally moved for college, but the internet here is trash, so I’ll probably have a lot more reading time now, since most games I play are online and will crash without internet.

Before

Cool story. Let’s hope Alina stays a badass.

Who am I joking, I know how this ends.

Chapter 1

So far so good. I hate the Apparat, per usual. Alina’s there basically dying and that bitch can’t wait to see her do so.

Cult leader to the core this one. He probably hates that his figurehead is alive and also not brainwashed.

Cult leader doesn’t like swearing. How surprising.

My boy David is completely right. What kind of irresponsible dingus keeps centuries old books in a fucking wet-ass cave? (Or a tree for that matter *cough cough* The Last Jedi *cough, cough*).

Genya is fun to be around.

Oh, shit, let’s go.

Chapter 2

Jesus Christ, Alina, Zoya isn’t that bad.

This is one hell of a shitshow.

I live for this version of Alina. Badass. Scary. I want more of this Alina.

Chapter 3

Out of all the random little details from crappy smut fics, I did not expect Oncat to be from the books, lol.

Mal actually has a supernatural tracking ability. Like, literally, they put a bug into the pouch with gunpowder so he could make the shot. I guess this was kinda said before, but never this directly, right?

Alina’s merzost-skyping Sasha now, yay.

Alina is horny for Sasha boy. Yay.

Alina canonically has a praise kink. Nice.

I hate LB with all of my heart at this very moment. How dare she bait us Darklina people like this? How DARE she? (Shipbaiting is the worst, seriously.)

Yes, yes, yes. These two lines. That’s what their relationship is all about. They’re each others foils, the yin to the other’s yang and... ugh. I am Darklina trash to the core and this hurts.

Darklina: You have a terrible taste in men.

Alina: I liked you once.

My boy Sasha walked into that one.

Chapter 4

Alina is a Queen. And we love her.

David, my beloved, my spirit animal.

It’s surprising they can read it at all, given it’s been centuries. Have you ever tried reading medieval manuscripts?

Honestly, with a father that crazy, it’s no wonder Baghra’s a bitch. And I’ve seen it said somewhere that the books imply Ilya’s experiments are what caused Baghra to be a shadow summoner and you know what? I can see how you’d make that connection.

Why is there so few Tidemakers in the books? Waterbenders are useful. I want more waterbenders.

Alina picking up some habits from Baghra I see.

Ah, yes, we love an educated giant.

I’m starting to think Harshaw is a bit nuts.

Shut up, Hershey. Or at least share the weed with the class. I’m not here for this “He’s mean to you because he likes you”. I might believe that in like, elementary school, but yall are (more or less) adults. Jesus.

Well, that was a bombshell of a twist.

Chapter 5

Oh boy, we’ve got some trauma bonding for out merry band of misfits. Yay.

Adrik has a crush on Zoya. And she hates it, lol. Cut the kid some slack, he’s like 15 or something.

That reminds me, I have a four-leaf clover pressed in books from close to year and a half ago. Time flies.

They’re really diving into the Mal has supernatural powers, huh?

Ghosts, let’s go.

Alina “I’m so happy to be outside I start to shine like a fucking fairy” Starkov and Mal is entranced. He’s definitelly nicer now. I’m not forgiving him for all the shit he’s pulled before and for using the silent treatment way too much, but hey, at least he’s improving.

I am not a Zoyalina person, but like... gay? Please? Rivals to grudging allies to friends to lovers, 300k slowburn? Sounds more fun than whatever Mala dn Alina have going on, lol.

(I’m starting to realize I’m not as much a Darklina person as I am anti-Malina person, lol. Like, literally everyone has a more interesting dynamic with Alina than tracker boy over there. Malina is at best boring AF and at worst toxic, codependent and emotionally abusive, while also being boring AF at the same time. It has literally nothing going for it except God herself liking it).

I can see why Nadia is gay in the show. The book version of her definitelly has a crush on Tamar. Homegirl likes a woman, who can murder her with the flick of her wrist and honestly? Same.

Alina has some big “coming out of lockdown after a year” energy atm.

The cat is one of the most realistic characters in this thing, lol.

And since Tamar is also heavily queercoded, our lovely ladies make off into the night, flirting. Or maybe not. Let me dream, though.

At least Blade Boy is aware that his tattoo is stupid. To quote someone ranting about him on tumblr: He’s embracing his identity as a tool.

Oh, boy, this will be fun.

Evil soldier is horny for Mal. Saints, is there a woman in this book who isn’t horny for Blade Boy?

And here comes Niki to save the day.

Chapter 6

Niki saved the day.

Fiberglass? And David being David. Genya being in love with her nerd of a boyfriend.

Jesus Christ, this one crazy kid has moved the technology in this universe a whole century on his own. So, when is David going to propose to him?

Baghra hasn’t changed much I see.

Baghra’s about to drop some truthbombs, but no, we have to be rudely interupted because Genya’s rapist is throwing a fit.

Chapter 7

How does Mal sound? Is she gonna say the Blade boy sounds like her dad? I mean, I know voices are partially genetic, but it has been tens of generations between them, probably.

So, we’re finally taking Genya’s trauma seriously after all this time? Good. Better late than never, I guess.

I wish that regicide was already finished and I’m pretty sure that Genya does, too. Stop defending the fucking king, narrative.

David’s a nerd in all things I see.

Someone please just kill the king already. And the queen, too, for good measure.

Now that’s a romance.

Infodumping and listening to said infodumps is a legitimate love language, Alina. Let them nerd out over poisons.

Wait, has Alina never directly killed anyone before? I thought she did... hmmm.

And just like that, it should have been over. Ugh.

Somehow, Baghra is a better teacher now than she was before. She half feels like a completely different character.

Nevermind, she’s back at it.

Chapter 8

Holy shit, Nadia and Tamar are canon. They have canon gays here.

So, which one of them is gonna die?

Chapter 9

We arrive at that scene. The one, where they should have fucked.

Jeez, girl, get a hold of yourself. Life is short, fuck a villain.

In other news, Genya and David definitelly fucked.

Chapter 10

Poor David. He just wanted to know.

Damn... I never realized just how young Baghra was, when she killed her sister.

I’ve already made a post about this, but it really does strike me like Baghra has already decided to end her life at this point in the book.

Why is that whole “but what if we’re related” thing even in there?

Chapter 11

We love a suprise attack.

When did Sasha boy learn that trick?

Baghra really just did that. Oh boy.

Chapter 12

No, don’t kill the kid... ugh.

Emotiona support cat. She should be friends with Milo.

Porrige for brains. Oof.

So Nadia was the one, who got bees set on her in the book. Cool.

That’s a good question. Why was it never brought up to Alina, that other Grisha get blocks, too?

David already thinking of steampunk prosthetic for Adrik is honestly kinda sweet.

Chapter 13

Back home... kinda.

Is that really... you really care about Mal bonking the Grisha school mean girl over a year ago? Okay.

Chapter 14

Angst! Yay!

And more angst.

Chapter 15

Sasha really went “My mom killed herself to save you? Well, I’ll kill the closest thing to parents you have.”

Chapter 16

Nikolai’s alive. Kinda.

And these two have such a sibling energy, I can’t.

And then they fuck. Ew.

Chapter 17

Wait, wait wait... so Alina isn’t even the one to destroy the Fold?

Okay. That’s... weird.

Holy shit. That was...

So, Aleksander is dead. Mal isn’t. Someone else destroyed the Fold for Alina and now she has no powers.

Okay.

That’s a weird-ass ending.

Chapter 18

The gays survived, so that’s nice.

Genya made good on her promise of making Alina a ginger, lol.

After

What emotion is this supposed to give me? Cause all I feel is kinda sad.