#now I’m all emo again about how much they’re exactly what they other needs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minisugakoobies · 3 years ago

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All Wound Up (Tighter) | KTH, JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plots, strangers to lovers, Rock Star!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation (m), voyeurism, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal sex, threesome, orgasms

Word Count: 6K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Jungkook and Taehyung help you unwind.

A/N: Inspired by the body harnesses worn by the vocal line at Permission to Dance On Stage. Easily the dirtiest thing I've ever written. I'm sorry or you're welcome, take your pick. Unbeta'd as usual.

I have absolutely no idea what goes into making jewelry or harnesses, so if you’re hoping for authentic details or facts in this story *waves hand like a Jedi* this isn’t the story you’re looking for. Actually, that goes for anyone looking for anything remotely resembling reality. Reality didn’t leave the building - it never entered in the first place.

Dedicated to my Jimin support group @reliablemitten @hannahbee12719 @yeontan-my-love. I thought we needed a break from his diabolical ways, so I… wrote about a threesome with the other maknaes? Whoops. Special shoutout to Poppy and @smasmashin for the assist with the title (insert Jungkook wink with finger guns gif) 💕Let me know what you think - my inbox is open!

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

“What do you mean, they want a fitting?”

Hoseok just stared at you. “I mean, they want a fitting. How are you not getting this?”

You wrinkled your nose in irritation. “But… they sent in their measurements. They don’t need a fitting. I’ve done a thousand of these harnesses by now. Are you really doubting my skills after all this time?”

He shouldn’t be. Your body accessories shop, Dark & Wild, was incredibly popular and business was booming. It had been, ever since you’d expanded from typical jewelry like necklaces and arm bands into full-body harnesses and chains, opening up a new market and creating more demand for your painstakingly handcrafted jewelry.

You worked in gold and silver, leather and metal, twisting and shaping the harshest elements to create the most exquisite adornments. It didn’t matter how much they resisted; eventually, everything bent to your demands. Hoseok often joked that the toughest thing in your shop wasn’t your tools or the materials you worked with, but your will.

He wasn’t wrong.

Hoseok sighed, pinching his nose. “Of course not. I know you know what you’re doing! You’re the best there is. It’s why I made you my business partner all those years ago.”

“Excuse me, I believe I made you my partner when I opened this shop!”

“Right, when you realized you needed someone to run the books and talk to clients and generally do everything except craft the products.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, will you please just do this for me? These guys are friends of a dear friend of mine, and he promised they’d make it worthwhile.”

“You mean they’re willing to pay a lot.”

He grinned, lighting up the room like a tiny, annoying sun. “Yep!”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But where exactly am I supposed to do this fitting?” You gestured around your shop, which was a workspace, not a storefront. All of your jewelry was sold online only, every piece made to order according to your clients’ desires.

Hoseok waved a hand. “I’m sure this is fine. But if you want, I know they’re staying at the Black Swan downtown. I can text and get their room number if you’d rather meet them there.”

“The Black Swan?” You whistled. “Fancy. Who are these guys again?”

“My friend Yoongi’s clients. He’s their manager. They’re in some rock band - Autumn Trees? No. Autumn Leaves?” He snapped his fingers. “Dead Leaves!”

You snorted. “Sounds emo.” Setting down the piece you’d been working on, you sighed. “Fine. I’ll interrupt my busy day to go meet these two total strangers in a hotel room, and if they turn out to be bloodthirsty killers and murder me, I’ll just haunt your ass for the rest of your life. And if they don’t turn out to be bloodthirsty killers, I’ll still haunt your ass for making me do this. It’ll just be a while before I get there.”

Hoseok beamed, pulling you into a quick hug. “You’re the best, sugar.”

“I know.”

Hoseok texted you the details the next morning. You were to meet your clients - Taehyung and Jungkook, those were their names - at 2. You spent the morning in your shop, finishing up a few pieces before lunch. Around 1, you gently packed their orders into your rolling carrying case and headed out.

You fiddled with the straps on your Doc Martens on the train to downtown. A sleazy looking guy sitting across from you leered as your leather skirt rode up on your thighs, and you scowled and gave him the bird. You weren’t in the mood to pretend not to notice, annoyed that you were making this special trip to begin with.

Your mood didn’t improve any by the time the train finally arrived 15 minutes later than it was supposed to, due to some issue on the tracks. Hustling down the crowded sidewalk towards the hotel, you swore as one of the wheels on your case suddenly came loose and rolled directly into a sewer grate. Picking up the case, you tucked it under your arm as you finally strolled into the hotel and directly into an elevator, collapsing against a mirrored wall in relief.

Sweat was prickling your forehead as you knocked on the hotel room door. You hoped you didn’t look like a mess, frowning slightly as you realized how late you were running.

You raised your hand to knock again, just as the door opened. Your fist bounced off of a solid chest. “Fuck! Sorry!” you yelped, retracting your hand as if you’d been shocked.

The face that greeted you was impassive. Gorgeous, but impassive. A pair of dark eyes assessed you with a sweeping gaze.

A beat passed.

“Um, hi.” You introduced yourself. “I’m here for your fitting?”

The gorgeous man said nothing, but opened the door fully and nodded to indicate that you could enter.

“Thanks.” You inspected him as you passed. Shadowed, hypnotic eyes framed with long lashes and killer cheekbones. A dark mop of wild curls held back by a headband. Black jeans and a black and white printed shirt. He looked like a rock star, all right.

A rock star from a very successful band, if the size of the suite was anything to judge by. You walked down a small corridor into a large sitting room, with plush couches and giant artwork on the walls. Two of the walls, anyway, since the wall in front of you was floor to ceiling glass windows.

“Shit,” you breathed, looking out at the city skyline.

“Yeah, it’s a nice view, huh?” A voice piped up beside you. Draped across one of the couches was another gorgeous man. Only this one smiled at you innocently, nose crinkling as he did. “I’m Jungkook. You must be…”

You gave him your name. He repeated it softly, the pleasing timbre of his voice making you wonder if he was the lead singer. Then again, you didn’t know anything about the band - maybe they were all singers.

Jungkook stood, running his hand through mint-colored hair, revealing a dark undercut. Small silver hoops glittered in both of his ears, matching the hoop nestled in the corner of his plump bottom lip. He was dressed a little more relaxed than the other man (who you now assumed was Taehyung), wearing an oversized long-sleeved black shirt and black joggers. His round eyes seemed so open and pure. You could imagine falling helplessly into them.

Yeah, definitely seemed like lead singer material.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologized. “There was a problem with the train tracks and then my case broke.”

“No worries. We just got in from our soundcheck anyway, so the timing worked out,” Jungkook replied.

Taehyung continued to say nothing, just observing you with those eyes. You weren’t sure if you liked that or not.

“So, where do you want us?”

You glanced around the room. “Is there a mirror somewhere that we can use?”

“Uh, yeah. Right this way.”

You followed the men down another hallway into a bedroom. A bedroom that was almost wastefully large for being so minimally decorated, consisting of a gigantic bed, one night stand, and one armchair and table tucked into the corner. The largest tv you’d ever seen was suspended on the wall across from the bed, artwork hung behind the bed on a second wall, the third wall was all window, and the entire fourth wall? One colossal mirror.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make do,” you muttered, earning a snicker from Jungkook.

You laid your case on the bed. Jungkook flopped onto the pile of pillows at the head of the bed while Taehyung sat on the edge.

“Who wants to go first?”

“I can.” Taehyung’s voice was surprisingly deep as he finally spoke. You motioned for him to stand beside you.

He began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Um, you can leave that on. The harness will fit over any shirt, so even if this isn’t the one you’ll be wearing on stage, it’ll work fine for this.”

“I don’t wear shirts on stage.”

Oh. Well then. “Okay.”

You tugged on the zipper on your case. It wouldn’t budge. Frowning, you tugged harder, only for the pull to snap off in your hand. “Ah, shit.” “Everything okay?” Jungkook inquired.

“No. Stupid zipper broke.” And of course all your tools were inside, so you couldn’t use them to fix it. “Do you have a sewing kit around here?” As big as the hotel suite was, there was probably an entire sewing room down one of the corridors.

Taehyung stopped undressing long enough to find you a kit. Just as you got the zipper open, you managed to prick yourself with the pin. “Motherfucker!” You sucked on your finger as both men looked on in concern. “Sorry. Just… It's been a bad day.”

You missed the glance they exchanged as you finally opened your case and removed Taehyung’s piece. Holding his harness in your hands, you turned, and blinked.

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you were back in your workspace, because the figure next to you was as cut as the realistic fiberglass mannequin you used to photograph your jewelry. Your eyes raked over Taehyung’s smooth chest and the grooves of his abs, settling briefly on the defined v line above the waist of his tight jeans before you caught yourself.

But the mannequin you owned did not have a sprawling tattoo running from its neck down its torso and around its back, an enormous mass of rambling branches and trailing flowers that almost seemed to flutter as he breathed.

“Wow. That’s some gorgeous artwork.”

He just nodded.

You carefully draped the harness over his waiting frame. He lowered his head as you clasped the neck piece, and you inhaled something sweet and floral. Surprising.

Stepping back, you marveled at your handiwork. Taehyung had ordered a black piece, with slender twists meant to mimic thorns. Set against his tattoo, you now understood the request. The metal wound around his neck twice, first as a choker, then a larger loop that connected to a chain running down the center of his chest. At his navel, the chain split to flare out over his hips.

Jungkook joined the two of you, hand reaching out to gently touch the harness that hung on his bandmate. “Wow. You made this?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” He twirled one of the thorns between his fingertips. “You have very talented hands.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“I wish I could make stuff. But I’ve been told my skills lie elsewhere.” He winked, taking a seat on the bed, reclining on his elbows, watching Taehyung spin in the mirror as he examined the chain.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky response, watching Taehyung spin in the mirror as he examined the chain. The harness draped beautifully down his torso, the black metal accenting the tattoo and giving him a mysterious, sexy air.

As if those dark eyes didn’t do that enough.

Silently patting yourself on the back, you continued to admire the way the chain skimmed over Taehyung’s striking figure, only to stop when he asked, “Can it be tighter?”

“Tighter?” you repeated incredulously. “Well, yeah, sure, I can make it tighter, but don’t you need to move around the stage?” You still didn’t know if he played an instrument or danced or what, so you weren’t sure how much freedom of movement he’d need. “And if I do, there’s a chance the thorns could dig into your skin. Might hurt a little.”

“I can take it.”

Ooookay.

“You’re the boss,” you commented, and took the chain in your hands. Twisting lightly, you looked at Taehyung. “Is this tight enough?”

He shook his head. Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Tighter.”

You bit your lip and twisted another link. “And now?”

“Is the chain going to break?”

“No,” you scoffed, slightly insulted that he was questioning your work.

“Neither am I. Tighter.”

Your hand brushed against his chest as you wound the chain around your fingers. He was hot to the touch, yet a wave of goosebumps rippled down your arm as you glanced into his eyes again.

“Perfect,” he drawled, smirking.

His gaze lingered on your lips a little too long.

Fuck. You reminded yourself that you were a professional, and focused on the alterations you would need to make. Taehyung held the chain for you as you typed a few notes into your phone, then you snapped a few photos for reference before unclasping the harness and putting it away.

One down.

“My turn!” Jungkook sprang to his feet like an eager puppy and bounded to your side as Taehyung put his shirt back on, taking a seat in the armchair. Before you could ask about his stagewear preference, Jungkook reached behind his head and yanked his shirt off one-handed.

Again, you were greeted by the sight of firm pecs and ridiculously defined abs. These men clearly believed in treating their bodies like temples. Ones that their fans would be all too happy to worship at, no doubt.

Like Taehyung, Jungkook was covered in ink. His right arm had a sleeve of tattoos, a series of markings in various sizes and shapes that coated his arm in a chaotic collection.

“You guys really like tattoos, huh?” You couldn’t help but smile. “Way to fight the rock star stereotype.”

Jungkook grinned a sweet bunny smile, all teeth and wrinkled nose. It was rather disarming, and actually did make him look like less of a rock star cliche, so you begrudgingly gave him credit.

Then you reminded yourself to concentrate on getting the job done. You had so much work waiting for you back at your shop.

Jungkook’s harness appeared more simple than Taehyung’s in front, a simple gunmetal grey chain, no choker or loops, no thorns, hanging in a straight line down his torso and splitting at his navel. However, the back was more complex, a pattern of woven strands strung like a spider web over his shoulder blades, tapering down to his waist.

Jungkook stood still as you adjusted the harness over his form. Taller than Taehyung, he had to stoop slightly while you played with the closure. Your fingertips scraped the nape of his neck and he shuddered.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Ticklish?”

“A little,” he confessed, peering over his shoulder to watch as you straightened several kinked sections, fixing the way the web draped over his strong back. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. Yoongi-hyung said you don’t usually do fittings.”

“That’s right. And you’re welcome.” You frowned slightly, wondering why so many links were twisted where they shouldn’t be. “Why exactly did you guys want a fitting, anyway?”

He shrugged, the harness lifting slightly as his broad shoulders moved. “We take our stagewear seriously, down to the last detail. We didn’t get to where we are by doing things half-assed.”

“Hmm.” You took a step back, scouring the chain for any other imperfections and finding none. “I can understand that.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jungkook turned and grinned at you. “Yoongi-hyung said Hobi-hyung said that you were the best of the best. That’s why we chose you.”

“You chose me?” You tilted your head.

“Your shop. That’s why we chose to buy from your shop.” He bit his lip.

You couldn’t help but smile at his embarrassed expression. “I think you’re good now, if you want to take a look?”

Jungkook rotated slowly, inspecting the harness from all angles in the mirror. The delicate chain made an interesting contrast against his solid frame. You couldn’t help but admire the way the metal shone against his skin, highlighting the muscles that undulated as he moved. You also couldn’t help but admire the muscles themselves.

“Thoughts?” you inquired.

Another grin. “I love it.”

He twirled a few times, letting out a high-pitched giggle, making you laugh in surprise. His giggle was delightfully at odds with his physique. It was charming as hell.

“If you have no objections, then I’ll just take it back to my shop and polish it up without making any alterations.”

You tried to slide behind him to undo the clasp, but Jungkook jumped away. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” you repeated. “I’m taking the harness off you? So I can take it back to my shop, like I said?”

“Are you in that much of a hurry to leave?” His eyes glimmered.

Your eyes narrowed.

“The fitting is over, so I should be on my way. I’ve got a lot of work to finish up this afternoon.” You reached for the harness again, but he dodged you. “Hey! Stop that!”

He giggled, spinning around and grabbing your wrists - loosely, but with enough force that you were pulled against him. You inhaled sharply, eyes wide as you gazed up. The gleam in his eye seemed a lot less mischievous and a lot more… wicked.

“You seem stressed. A little… wound up. It must be difficult, running your own business, doing all that hard work yourself.” His thumbs stroked your wrists. “Don’t you think you deserve to have some fun?”

“Yeah,” a low voice rumbled from the corner, and you jumped. Taehyung had been sitting so quietly in the armchair for so long that you’d completely forgotten he was still in the room. “There’s no need to run off. Stay a while. Relax.”

You glanced between the two men. “Okay, I’m not really sure what you guys are suggesting, but I think I should go.” You were actually pretty sure that you knew exactly what they were suggesting. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to mess around with one of them, but both?

This kind of thing didn’t really happen, did it?

“We’re just suggesting that you indulge yourself a little,” Taehyung rose from his seat, crossing the room leisurely. With his intense gaze, the movement reminded you of nothing more than a tiger stalking its prey.

“Yeah. Come on. Play with us,” Jungkook crooned sweetly, watching you through lowered eyelashes. “We appreciate you coming here. Accommodating us.”

“Let us thank you,” Taehyung whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you realized he was right behind you. His hands ghosted over your shoulders, sweeping your hair out of the way as a pair of lips suddenly danced along your neck.

Your head spun, fragments of thoughts flitting through your mind. All those unfinished pieces waiting for you back at your shop. Whether it was unprofessional to sleep with two (two!) clients. If you should follow the likely well-worn path of a typical groupie and hook up with these rock stars.

If you deserved to cut loose. Unwind.

These were all swept aside by one incredibly loud statement: Fuck it, let’s ride.

Twisting the chain around your fingers, you tugged Jungkook towards you. He reacted immediately, lips smashing into yours. Taehyung pressed himself into your back, his hands on your hips as Jungkook’s hands threaded through your hair.

Trapped between the two men, you moaned wantonly. Two pairs of hands roamed your body. Two pairs of lips covered your skin in kisses. Your pussy throbbed, begging for attention, and you crushed your pelvis into Jungkook’s, trying desperately to grind against the erection that was jutting into your thigh.

Jungkook broke the kiss, chuckling. “Need something, baby?” he purred, nipping at your lips. You nodded, gasping as one of Taehyung’s hands slid down your front, coming to rest between your thighs. He rubbed his fingers along your crotch, the sudden pressure making you keen, growling into your shoulder as he felt the dampness growing there.

“I think she needs you, Kook,” he murmured. Just as you were starting to buck against his hand, setting a rhythm, he suddenly released his grip on you and drew away.

“Wha…?” you panted, looking back in confusion. Jungkook’s hand grasped your chin and brought your focus back to him.

“Come on, baby. Let me help you out.” He guided you to the bed, gently pushing on your hips to get you to sit. “Lie back for me.”

You did as instructed, sliding up the bed until you hit the pile of soft pillows. Jungkook followed, crawling up the bed.

But Taehyung had taken his seat in the armchair again.

“I thought…?” you trailed off as you looked at him, puzzled.

Jungkook followed your gaze. “Taehyungie likes to watch,” he explained.

Oh.

Jungkook took a moment to undo the straps of your boots, sliding them off and dropping them to the floor. His hands slid up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs, gently nudging your legs apart. You could feel your panties sticking to you as his eyes swept over you, and he leaned forward to shove your skirt up to your waist.

“Hmmm, I think you were right, Tae. She’s soaking through her panties.” Jungkook clucked his tongue. “Poor thing. You want me to remove those for you?”

You were no shrinking violet. You never shied away from using your voice. But something about Jungkook’s tone had you holding your tongue. You wanted him to take care of you. So you just nodded.

Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, swiftly tugging them down. Once they were freed from your legs, he turned and chucked them over his shoulder, directly into Taehyung’s waiting hand.

You watched, mouth agape, as Taehyung unzipped his pants, freeing the thickest cock you’d ever seen. As you continued to stare, Taehyung stroked himself a few times with his empty hand.

Then he switched hands, rubbing himself with the sodden, satiny material.

“Oh god,” you groaned, unable to stifle yourself.

Jungkook’s face popped into your field of vision. “Back to me, baby,” he commanded, and you turned your attention back to the minty-haired man kneeling between your legs. “I want you to watch me, okay?”

“Okay,” you echoed weakly. You propped yourself up on the pillows as best you could.

Jungkook smirked, lying on his stomach, the harness biting into his skin and leaving indentations as he slid his arms under your thighs, locking them in place with his forearms. Gentle kisses flitted against your folds, and you sighed happily. Then you gasped in surprise as his tongue slid inside you, lapping at your core.

Jungkook’s gifts did indeed lie elsewhere. Namely, his golden tongue. He had you moaning in no time. You dug your hands into the plush blankets, seeking to anchor yourself as he added one finger, then a second, then a third, working you open with his hand as his tongue suckled at your clit, his lip ring rubbing enticingly. His eyes twinkled devilishly as he watched you, drinking in the way you writhed above him just as he drank in your slickness.

“How does she taste, Kook?”

Jungkook just whined, the needy sound spurring you to buck against his face in reply.

You rolled your head to the side, looking into the mirror. Taehyung’s reflection fucked his hand feverishly, an intense expression of concentration on his face. Knowing that you were the focus of that fierce gaze pushed you over the edge, the tiny mewls falling from your lips becoming a steady wail as you came all over Jungkook’s face. He let out a hoarse “Ah!” at the sensation of you clamping down on his hand, and ground his hips into the bed as he licked you through your orgasm, until you finally pushed his head away.

A stuttered cry from the corner told you that Taehyung had cum as well.

Panting, you stared into the mirror, watching Taehyung as he came down. Jungkook sat back on his heels, licking his lips, looking satisfied. You observed him through half-lidded eyes, still blissed out from your release. His erection was mouthwateringly large.

You wanted to taste him.

“How do you feel now?” Jungkook asked, hands softly caressing your calves. “Still stressed?”

“Mmmm, no.” You sat up, and swung your legs underneath you so that you were kneeling. “Definitely not stressed.” Your fingers trailed up Jungkook’s thigh.

He tipped his head as he watched your hand move towards his bulge. “Did you want to play a little more?”

“Yes please,” you all but groaned as you palmed him through his jeans. He hissed, hips lifting at your machinations.

Taehyung stalked across the room, shedding his clothes. He was already half-hard again by the time he sat behind you, his hands tugging at your shirt. You raised your arms, helping him as Jungkook’s fingers reached behind you to unzip your skirt. Within seconds, you were completely naked, Taehyung’s hands caressing your breasts as his hot breath tickled your neck.

“You need a hand, Kook?” Taehyung asked, fingers rolling your nipples between them. You arched slightly into his touch, head dropping back against his shoulder as he fondled you. “I think you should show him how talented those hands are, baby. Maybe that lovely mouth, too. What do you think - should you take care of him now?”

“Mmm, yeah, I wanna suck him off,” you managed to reply, answering Taehyung while meeting Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook wasted no time, standing to slide his jeans off.

For the second time that afternoon, you were stunned by the sight of a massive cock. Whereas Taehyung was thick, Jungkook was long, and deliciously curved. The bright red tip of his dick looked almost painful, and you held out your hands, beckoning to him to rejoin you on the bed.

He knelt in front of you, and you got on your hands and knees, crawling towards him until you held his cock in your hand. You stroked him lightly, taking the tip in your mouth, coating him with your tongue. Then you surged forward and took him in, not stopping until your nose brushed against his pelvis.

“Fuck,” he gasped. You hummed around him, pleased to take him by surprise.

Then you nearly choked, as a pair of lips kissed at your entrance from behind you.

Taehyung had dropped to the floor, burying his face in your folds as you sucked Jungkook off. He teased you with long, agonizingly slow licks, swirling his tongue around your clit, which was still sensitive from Jungkook’s petting. You bobbed on Jungkook’s dick, swallowing down the saliva that flooded your mouth, making him curse.

Jungkook’s hands were in your hair, unrestrained pleas escaping him as you worked him over, calling you baby again and again, begging you not to stop. Taehyung had one hand on your thigh, holding you in place while he continued to lave at you, the other gripping his cock.

The sounds in the room were a clash of whimpers and moans, wet sounds of mouths and hands. A filthy cacophony of delights.

Jungkook began to thrust into your mouth, and you gagged slightly, but didn’t stop him. He babbled as his hips moved. “Fuck, baby, take it all,” he wheedled, singing your name.

You moaned around him and he threw his head back. “If you keep that up, I’m gonna cum right in that sweet mouth.” You hummed again, giving your consent, but his hips stilled and he pulled out.

You remained on your knees, a protest forming on your lips, because you weren’t done with him, but before you could utter a word, you suddenly doubled over, hiding your face in the blankets instead as Taehyung sucked unrelentingly on your clit, driving you insane with pleasure.

You longed for more than just his mouth.

“Taehyung, please,” you practically sobbed. “I need more.” When did you become this needy creature, such a sniveling mess? What had these men done to you?

Jungkook climbed onto the bed, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you furiously. You lost yourself in his embrace, letting him plunge his tongue into your willing mouth as his hands roved downward, squeezing your ass.

Taehyung suddenly appeared by your side as Jungkook rolled you onto your back.

He gave you a dark look, eyes raking over your naked body. “Kook, I think she’s ready for more.” He dropped his head to your breasts, lightly teething at a nipple. “Are you ready, baby? You want Kook to fuck you now?” His tongue caressed what his teeth had just stung.

If someone didn’t put their dick in you soon, you were going to explode. “God, yes, please fuck me!”

Jungkook grinned lasciviously, leaning over to trail kisses along your stomach. “You’re the boss.”

Taehyung rifled through the night stand, tossing Jungkook a condom. Then he settled himself against the headboard, his hand lazily gliding over his cock as Jungkook sheathed himself and lined up against you.

The metal chain hanging from his chest brushed your skin as he hovered above you. He dropped his lips to yours, and with a kiss he pushed inside. He slid in slowly, making sure you were comfortable as you adjusted to his length. You’d never felt so full, your eyes falling shut as you focused on the incredible sensation.

Once the glorious stretch stopped aching, you urged him to move by lifting your hips.

Jungkook did not hesitate.

He snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace, and your eyes flew open as you began to pant. “Fuck! Jungkook!” was all you could spit out, your brain shutting down anything not related to the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

Your head lolled back, and you caught Taehyung’s eye. He was once again staring at you as you bounced underneath Jungkook, mouth open in rapture as he jerked off. The debauched sight was overwhelming.

You wanted to touch him so badly.

Time to make them bend.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, turning your attention back to the man fucking you relentlessly. Your hand wrapped around the chain dangling from his neck, and you yanked, pulling him down. He lost his rhythm, hands stretching out to stop himself from falling on top of you. “Jungkook, stop.”

He lifted his head, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong, baby,” he huffed, searching your face. “Am I hurting you? You wanna stop?”

Releasing your grip on the harness, you gently pushed him off of you, and he pulled out. Sitting up, you looked Jungkook in the eye. “I wanna ride you.”

“Oh hell yeah.” You didn’t have to ask twice. Jungkook threw himself on the bed and gazed up at you, quirking an eyebrow. “Hop on, baby.”

You shook your head. “Nuh-uh. Not there.” You pointed at the head of the bed, where Taehyung was watching you. “Up there.”

Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who nodded. He positioned himself next to the dark-haired man, leaning back against the headboard. “Like this?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Crawling up the bed, you straddled Jungkook. Slowly, you sank down on him, both of you sighing blissfully as you did.

Then you reached out, winding the chain around your hand, jerking him forward as you began to bounce on his dick. You crushed your mouth against his, swallowing the heavenly sounds he made as you rode him.

But you didn’t forget about Taehyung. The hand not wrapped around Jungkook’s harness crept towards his lap. Tearing yourself away from Jungkook’s lips for a moment, you tilted your head towards Taehyung.

“May I?” Your hand hovered above his cock, waiting.

He nodded.

Jungkook grunted in your ear, his teeth nibbling on your lobe, as you wrapped your hand around Taehyung and began to stroke. You gripped him as best you could, unable to close your hand around his thickness.

Taehyung’s head fell back against the headboard as he exhaled a guttural moan. The sound shot straight to your core and you clenched around Jungkook, who hissed.

You slowed your pace, rolling your hips to grind into Jungkook as you focused on pleasuring both men at once. From the wordless noises he made, you could tell that Taehyung was enjoying your hand, but it wasn’t enough for you.

“Taehyung,” you murmured. He glanced up. “I wanna taste you. Can I?”

He nodded.

You were flexible, but you couldn’t bend enough to take him from your current position. So you let go of Jungkook’s chain and pried his hands from your hips. “Be right back,” you winked, and before he could respond, you popped off of him, turning around.

“Fuck, you’ve got a great ass,” he muttered, hands reaching out to grope as you laughed and began to ride him, reverse cowgirl style.

“C’mere,” you purred to Taehyung. He towered over you on the bed, cock at the perfect level. You licked your lips and took him in.

You felt your jaw pop and knew that it would be sore tomorrow, but it was worth the pain. Quickly establishing a tempo, you alternated your mouth with your hands, stroking and sucking as he stared down at you, mouth falling open again in ecstasy. His fingers clutched at his sides, and you reached out, taking one of his large hands and placing it on your head, silently instructing him to take control.

As if that was the cue he’d been waiting for, Jungkook suddenly grabbed your hips, fingers curling into your skin, and began thrusting up into you, taking over the pace of your fucking. You moaned around Taehyung, saliva spilling over as you began to drool from the way Jungkook pounded into you.

But you were at the mercy of Taehyung’s hips now, too, as he began to fuck your mouth in earnest, mindlessly burying himself in the inviting warm wetness of your mouth. Breathy grunts and gasps accompanied every lunge of his hips.

A switch flipped in Jungkook as he fucked you vigorously, a surprisingly lewd stream of drivel pouring forth from his lips. “Fuck, you like that, baby? Like the way we fuck you? So fucking hot, taking us both like this. Wanna fuck this cunt all night, wanna make you cum on my cock ‘til you can’t see straight!”

You whined, frenzied, drowning in so many sensations. You were achingly close to climax, just needing a helping hand.

So you grasped Jungkook’s hand, guiding it from your hip down to your clit, and pressed his fingers against you.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the nape of your neck as he breathed, “You need me, baby?”

Unable to speak or nod, you squeezed his fingers, hoping he’d understand.

He did.

You came with a shuddering cry, Taehyung pulling out of your mouth to let the sound fill the room. You turned to liquid in Jungkook’s arms, euphoric, melting against him as pleasure rolled through you. As you spasmed around him, he came as well, chanting your name as he released inside you, filling the condom with his hot seed.

Taehyung pumped his cock, panting hard. “Baby,” he gasped out brokenly, “baby, I’m gonna… where can I…”

You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He groaned as he came down your throat, dark eyes widening as you licked him clean.

Jungkook sagged against the headboard, and you smiled as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. You cocked your head up at Taehyung, and he read the question in your eyes, curling up beside you and resting his head on your thighs.

The three of you laid that way for several minutes, until Jungkook broke the silence.

“So… still in a hurry to leave?”

Hoseok called you the next morning, waking you from a dead sleep. You grumbled a hello.

“Morning, sugar! I don’t know what magic you worked with Taehyung and Jungkook, but now the other band members are asking for their own harnesses. They’re placing their orders as we speak.”

“Oh,” you grunted, your left eye falling shut as if you were trying to half-sleep while talking. “That’s nice.”

“Oh yeah!” He paused. “Hold on, text from Yoongi. Let me put you on speaker so I can read.”

You switched eyes.

“Huh, ok, looks like they also want a private fitting. Well, I don’t know how quickly you can make their pieces, but he says they’ll be back in town in a few weeks. Do you think you could arrange to meet Jin and Jimin then? They're the other guys in the band. Oh, they’re offering to host you again, said they’re happy to do it.”

You pondered for less than a millisecond. “Yeah, I can probably arrange something.”

“Great! Yoongi said they can’t wait to have you.”

A/N II: Part two coming at some point! (Update 5/24/22 - it's here!)

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maximons · 3 years ago

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Tricks And Treats

Summary: Pietro tries to get Wanda and Y/n to finally admit their feelings for each other and takes them to a haunted house. Too bad Wanda is a full on scaredy cat...or is that exactly what is needed?

Word Count: 2,915

Genre: Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: Finally back with the Fluff! Here’s that one shot I promised like a week ago lmao Happy Reading!

Halloween was for sure your favorite holiday.

You knew you were in the minority with that thought, seeing most people picked Christmas as their favorite, but you didn’t care. You always loved the time of year that came with Halloween, your birthday fell pretty close to it, you get to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a day, and it’s full on spooky season! What wasn’t there to love?

Well apparently a lot, at least according to your best friend Wanda.

For someone who’s a witch, you find it very funny that she doesn’t like the holiday.

You first met Wanda during the whole Ultron situation, back then she took on a more ‘emo’ appearance. Don’t tell anyone you said this, but you wouldn’t mind if she adopted the look again cause damn, so you just assumed Halloween and all things spooky would be for her, right?

Wrong.

You quickly learned that Wanda was not a fan of scary. You remember asking her to go see this new horror movie with you, it was your first time hanging out alone together and you just figured it’d be something she was into.

By the end of the movie, her face was buried in her knees, and she didn’t believe you when you told her the movie was over. The poor teenager working the theater was pretty annoyed with you both.

Needless to say, you didn’t bother her about anything spooky related again.

So when Pietro came to you two asking if you wanted to go to the new haunted house in town, you were beyond shocked that she agreed without a second thought.

“Uh, Wanda are you sure?” You asked, very hesitant. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a haunted house before, but-”

“I know what they are, Y/n.” Wanda cut you off before you finished, seeming very enthused, which confused you more. “I think it’ll be really cool!”

“Yeah...Wands, I know this group. This isn’t your typical ‘few scary decorations with the occasional light jump scare’ thing. These guys are intense.” You tried again. You didn’t know what had gotten into the witch, but you were sure she was making a mistake here.

“Y/n/n, relax. I’m not a child, I can handle myself. Trust me, okay? It’ll be great!” The bright smile on Wanda’s face was always a sight you welcomed, but it confused you in the moment. Still, you knew once her mind was set on something...let’s just say it’d be easier to find all the infinity stones than to talk her out of it.

“Alright, if you say so.” You shrugged, deciding it was best to drop the topic. Besides, she was right, Wanda’s a grown woman who can make her own choices. You just get to wait to be able to tell her that her choice was a stupid one. “So Friday night?” You asked Pietro, who nodded excitedly.

“Friday night!” He confirmed.

“Okay, cool.” You took another quick sip of your morning coffee before setting your mug down. “I gotta get ready for training. So happy to be working with Steve today instead of Nat, he’s always a walk in the park.” You said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “Wish me luck.”

The twins wished you luck as you left the room to go get ready. After they were sure you were out of earshot, the witch turned to her brother. “This is your plan? Are you crazy?”

“I know, I know, but trust me, okay?” He reassured, walking to the fridge to grab himself a drink. “Y/n loves this stuff, and as she is the love of your life-”

“Whoa, whoa, I-I never said-”

“-You should experience the things that she loves to do.” Pietro finished, ignoring his sister’s intervention. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your guys’ way, and you have the whole evening to yourselves. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, until I act like a complete, how do they say, ‘spaz’ around her again.” Wanda sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter in defeat.

“You won’t. You know what kind of things to expect now. And if you do freak out, all the more reason to be by her side. She will protect you.”

Wanda looked at her brother in confusion. “I can protect my self.”

Pietro rolled his eyes playfully. “Not what I meant. You will see, sestra.”

Friday night came before you know it, and you, Wanda and Pietro were waiting in the line to buy your tickets to enter.

“Holy shit, this is a long line.” Pietro complained, causing you to chuckle.

“Not surprising. It’s the week before Halloween, weather’s nice, and this group doesn’t come to New York a whole lot. More surprised it isn’t longer actually.” You shrugged.

“Why don’t they come to New York? I thought this was one of America’s more popular states?” Wanda asked.

“It is, but ever since Loki invaded and our merry band of misfits formed, tourism and things like this have been down a whole lot.” You leaned down to get closer to Wanda’s ear. “I guess we’ve been the scary ones all along.” You joked, but Wanda was more focused on trying to calm down and forget the feeling of your breath against her ear.

“Everything alright there, Wanda?” Pietro asked after a moment, teasing smirk on his face. Before Wanda could even fire back, a voice from in front of you spoke up.

“No way! You guys are Avengers!” The group in front of you turned around, one of the guys recognized you instantly.

“Uh, yes...we are.” Wanda awkwardly stated. You knew Wanda hated fan interactions, and to be honest you weren’t a fan of these situations either. They were unpredictable. The Avengers were either beloved or despised, and you’ve been on both ends of the reaction spectrum. Wanda and Pietro, unfortunately, have seen a lot more animosity than you and the others.

Honestly, you couldn’t even fault the ones that didn’t love you guys. You weren’t ignorant and knew your battles have caused a lot of problems for a lot of people. You could sympathize, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be on the receiving end of that anger. Especially not when you were trying to just have a fun night out with your friends. “Look guys, we’re really just here to have a good time. We don’t wanna cause a scene.” You said.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. I think you guys are awesome!” The guy said, and it was clear to you then that the dude was baked out of his mind. “Especially you, with the red wiggly woos!” He pointed to Wanda as he gave a terrible impression of her hand movements. You smiled, happy to see a fan interaction go well for Wanda.

The joy you felt didn’t last long though, as another guy in the group turned to you, blunt in his hand. “Hey, you’re the fire one right? Can you do me a solid?” He gestured to you, asking you to give him a light. You sighed, the twins chuckling at the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t ask again.” You ignited the tip of your finger, gently placing it on the end of the blunt. The group turned around in line and continued to go about their own conversation. You felt Wanda elbow your side, and you turned to see a smirk on her face. When you heard Pietro’s snicker, you groaned.

“Shut up.”

“Look at you, helping delinquents. Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero? Bringer of justice and all of that?” Wanda teased and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, but I’m the fun one. It’s just weed.” You said confidently, but the witch saw through it and you dropped the act. “And the last time that happened and I said no, the dude burst into tears.” You said under your breath.

“There it is.” She smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back despite you being the subject of mockery. You loved seeing her smile, you didn’t care about the reason why.

Before you knew it, Pietro announced that you guys were next in line to buy tickets. He bought his and stepped aside so you can go next. “Hi, two please.” Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Wha- Y/n, I can afford it.” She chuckled nervously, flattered by the action.

“I know, but when I have to drag you out of here cause you’re paralyzed in fear, at least you won’t regret dropping forty bucks on it.” You shrugged as you handed the cashier your credit card.

Wanda’s face reddened, something she quickly tried to hide from her brother who was enjoying this way too much. Her flustered state faded quickly when she processed what you said. “Hey!” You chuckled before thanking the cashier as she returned your card.

“Please go to the table to sign your waivers, entrance is down that hill. Enjoy your night.” The monotone voice told you that the poor woman’s been working all night. You didn’t have time to dwell on that though as you felt a panicked tapping on your arm.

“What’s wrong? We haven’t even entered yet.” You teased.

“W-what did she mean by waivers?” You chuckled at the panicked tone in the witch’s voice.

“Just means if you have a heart attack or something, you can’t sue.” You shrugged nonchalantly, but Wanda took it very seriously and turned to you with even wider eyes.

“That can happen!?”

“Well, it happened at least once if the thought of doing a waiver.” You answered, once again, nonchalantly. You looked at Wanda and could swear you saw her blood run cold. You laughed, which resulted in you receiving a glare. “Relax, Wan, you’ll be fine. You’re an Avenger, you’ve faced off against killer robots, stared death in the face time and time again!” You exclaimed dramatically as you waved your arms. You noticed Wanda start to smile and relax her shoulders.

“Thanks, Y/n.” She gave you a sweet smile, and you couldn’t help but melt.

“Yeah, anytime.” Your eyes locked with Wanda, you were about to look away but couldn’t. ‘Wow, were her eyes always this green? They’re beautiful.’ You thought.

A blush appeared on the witch’s face as she tore her gaze from you. You were about to ask what happened, but were interrupted. “Let’s go slow pokes!” Pietro’s voice shouted, effectively breaking the moment.

“Yeah, yeah Sonic, we’re coming!” You rolled your eyes as you shouted back. Wanda giggled at the banter between you and her brother, she loved that you two were close. With that, you and her headed down the hill towards the entrance.

After about a half hour, it seemed Wanda was holding up well. The three of you walked out of the corn maze, and she had a triumphant smile on her face. “I thought you said this place was scary.” She teased causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

“Congratulations you survived the corn maze, you get to join the hall of fame with the other twelve year-olds.” As if to emphasize your point, three twelve year-olds ran out of the maze in giggles, clearly unaffected. Wanda pouted. “Aw, don’t worry. I thought you were very brave.” You teased yet again, which resulted in an elbow to the side.

“You’re a jerk.” Wanda held back a smile as she strutted forward. You laughed as you jogged forward to catch up.

“Alright, are you guys ready for the big one?” Pietro asked and your eyes widened.

“Oh, Piet, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said as you nudged your head towards Wanda, hinting that you didn’t think she could handle that. Unfortunately, she caught on.

“Aw come on, Y/n. I’m not a baby.”

“I know, but you can’t go from the corn maze to...that.” You gestured towards the haunted maze entrance, a giant purple demon with smoke blowing out of it’s ears looming over. You guys turned at the sound of screams, and saw a group run out of the maze in fear, which then dissolved into laughter.

“They seem to be having fun.” Wanda gestured towards the group.

“Yeah, after the screams of terror.” You shot back. “You can’t go from walking around the block to running a marathon.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Wanda strutted forward towards the entrance, determined to prove you wrong.

You groaned as you looked over to Pietro, who watched the whole ordeal with a cheeky smile. “Your sister’s insane.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” Pietro said under his breath, but you still heard it.

“What?”

“Nothing!” With that, the man sped forward, catching up to his sister at the entrance. You stared after him for a moment in shock before joining them.

The three of you walked the path, and everything seemed to be going well...for all of five seconds. The first jump scare happened behind Wanda. The loud screech startled her, and she jumped with a scream. She stumbled into your arms, and you wrapped them around her in order to keep her from falling. You chuckled, and Wanda looked up at you with the intention to glare. However, when your eyes locked again, Wanda couldn’t help but stare.

You, of course, had to ruin the moment. “Not too late to turn back, y’know. This is just the beginning.” Wanda groaned and pulled away from you, continuing forward. You laughed. “You can hold my hand if you want!” You don’t know what compelled you to say that, but you knew you weren’t entirely joking.

And you didn’t regret it when Wanda reached out and held your hand without another word. You smiled, squeezing her hand.

What you didn’t see was Pietro giving Wanda a thumbs up as you both walked past.

At some point, you guys lost Pietro in the dark maze. Wanda wasn’t even worried as she still held your hand tightly, and you knew the man would be fine and he’ll meet up with you at the exit.

Wanda had been holding up better than you thought. You wouldn’t say she was good per say, seeing as she screamed and practically jumped into your arms at the slightest sound, but she hadn’t collapsed on the ground in tears yet, so you’d count that as a win.

“Gotta say, Maximoff. I’m impressed.” You said as you two walked down the maze hand in hand.

“I’m just being that super brave Avenger like you said.” Wanda giggled, and you couldn’t help but melt at the noise.

“Well you’re doing an awesome job. Even if the last three guys almost made you pee your pants.” You laughed loudly as you took in the shocked reaction the woman gave you.

“Y/n!” She scolded, but before you could even respond, the worst jump scare yet occurred.

A large animatronic growled and lowered from the ceiling right behind Wanda. The witch turned to look briefly as she screamed loudly and jumped to you again. This time, however she literally jumped into your arms. You quickly braced your hands under her thighs, catching her, as she wrapped her legs around your waist. The force from the jump caused you to stumble back into a darker corner of the maze. Your back hit a hay wall, and you and Wanda laughed at the moment. Your laughter continued for a moment, and Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to look into your eyes. Both of you got quiet as you continued to stare, sensing the moment shift.

“You okay?” You whispered, almost as if talking to loudly would shatter the moment. Wanda nodded, eyes still locked onto yours. After a moment of silence, she spoke up.

“Y’know...I think a distraction would help.” Your eyebrows shot up at the insinuation. You doubted you heard her correctly, but when you saw her eyes shift down to your lips, you knew what she wanted. And you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t want it too.

“I...Yeah, I think I could help with that.” You barely got your sentence out when Wanda smashed her lips to yours roughly. You tightened your hold on her thighs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. You stood there, making out roughly against the wall of the maze. As wild and sudden as this was, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Pietro noticed you two were gone for a really long time. He was beginning to get concerned, and pulled out his phone ready to call one of you. Turns out he didn’t need to.

You two came out of the maze, only you weren’t alone. You and Wanda each had a security guard holding your arm. After you two were out of the maze completely, they let you go and walked off. It was then that Pietro noticed both of your disheveled states. And he could swear he saw two or three hickeys forming on your neck.

“No you didn’t-” He started, but you cut him off.

“Not a word.” Your hand found it’s way to Wanda’s as you guys walked towards the exit of the park, figuring it’d be bad Avengers press if you guys stayed any longer at this point. You had an awesome night anyway, and didn’t care if it ended a little early. Besides, you had a feeling you’d get to have some more...fun when you got back to the compound.

You didn’t notice Pietro high five Wanda’s free hand.

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA:

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all!#THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

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crymeariveronceagain · 3 years ago

Text

The BNHA Crack Ship I unironically love

Shigaraki/Miruko???

I... I just love the dynamic they could have??? Like, evil crustie boi likes getting bossed around, fluffy angry bunny likes bossing around?

He likes getting pressed against walls and kissed like the world is falling apart? She likes pressing people up against walls and kissing them like the world is falling apart?

They’re both emotionally constipated, but she’s definitely more expressive of her feelings?

He’s a little jerk and sometimes the two of them will get in prank wars?

Or “yo mama” insult battles? Shigaraki always wins, because, like “Jokes on you, I killed my mama.” “Honey, do we need to move your therapist appointment?” “No!”

They give me the strongest “depressed emo boy/angry prep girl” vibes, and I’m just so here for it.

Miruko has bad days where she just crashes into him and he like, freezes completely, cause he’s not used to that, but she won’t let go and oh stars he’s got to go to the bathroom and he is completely trapped.

Yes. He is the little spoon. Yes, they cuddle too much. Yes, angry cuddles.

The two of them make Hawks want to vomit, because they’re fond of just starting to make out randomly, and for all his smooth talk, Hawks does not know how to deal with two people like that.

Miruko flips her friend off without taking her lips off of her lover.

Are they married? Someday. Right now? No. But THEY BICKER LIKE THEY’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR YEARS. They squabble about anything and everything. They’ll squabble while having different conversations at once. They’ll squabble while kissing. They’ll squabble while watching movies. They’ll squabble while in battle.

Their ship name should honestly be “Squabble” because the amount of petty arguments they have that neither of them is humble enough to back down from are such an integral part of this relationship.

They first met on patrol or something and she called him a “Son of a B*tch” and he told her to “shove it up your--”

Then, maybe a week later, they met up one night on accident in a club. She didn’t recognize him, but he one-hundred-percent recognized her. He knew exactly who she was and he convinced himself that kissing her was a good idea because then he could infiltrate the heroes. It definitely wasn’t because she took every challenge he gave her in stride, and their flirting styles were both excessive insulting and sarcasm, and he had never been so attracted to a woman in his life.

But she left him, that night, having an early day the next day and telling him she didn’t have time to spend with a man.

He flushed when she asked for his number, and rattled it off robotically. “What’s your name?” she asked. He’d shrugged. “Put me down as Tenko,” he said, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t used that name for years.

Cue the texting, on opposite sides of a war only one person knew that they were fighting against each other.

“We should see each other again sometime soon,” she texted, one night, “You’re wonderful to talk to, and you don’t order me around.”

Shigaraki didn’t know how to tell her that they had seen each other again. Except she’d looked at him with scorn and anger. Even though, he knew, she could punch him in the face, at this point, and he’d kiss her knuckles where they touched him.

But he shoved it off, avoided prying personal questions, even though he told her more about his life than he’d ever told anyone ever before. Even if she didn’t know it was him. And if she knew it was him she’d never speak to him again.

Miruko was head over heels for him, not going to lie to you. There’s just something so stupid about him, she thought, texting him while silently watching the city, and yet he’s so terribly sweet. I’d hate myself for loving someone I’d only ever met once, she thought, but dang it if I don’t love this guy.

Shigaraki discovered something. If he specifically attacked places while he knew Miruko was on duty, he would get to see her more. She’d punch him in the face, he’d fight off a very painful desire to kiss her senseless, he’d wind up half dead, flung across the city, it was great.

It became routine.

Until, one day. Because all things that seem too good to be true must come to an end.

The entire city was under attack, Shigaraki and his villains at the helm, destroying, looting, and enjoying it. Dabi had not stopped grinning in hours. People’s livelihoods had gone up in smoke.

Shigaraki’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, carefully. He’d left his finger-covers at home.

Miruko’s name flashed on the screen. He swallowed, almost painfully.

But he picked up.

“Are you okay?” Came the frantic voice that he knew far too well. “You weren’t answering your texts and I’m sorry that I spammed you but I swear to God, Tenko, if you’re hurt--”

“I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m not in danger. I’m safe.” He was lying through his teeth. He didn’t know if he’d make it out alive today, but a guy could hope.

“I hope so,” she snapped, “If you die and I’ve only ever kissed you once I’ll ressurrect you and kill you again, just for breaking my heart.”

He snorted. “I’ll stay alive for you, then, Princess.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, Tenko, I’ve gotta go, I’ve got sights on a group of villains, and I need to call for backup. Stay safe, okay?”

He nodded, “Okay.”

“Love you,” she said, briefly, so quickly he could have imagined it, and then the phone hung up.

He stared at it, shook, as it lay, silent in his hand.

And that’s when someone hit him in the back. He careened forward, and his fingers brushed the phone. All five, at once.

He yelped, startled, and sick to his stomach, watching every conversation he’d had with Miruko crumble away and vanish. Every long night, every aching sunrise that he’d turned away from with bleary eyes, every laugh, every single moment, and he whipped around, hands raised and unconscious tears in his eyes that were hidden behind the hand covering his face.

The woman who had told him she loved him only seconds ago glared him down. He instantly dropped his hands, feeling guilty.

She reached for him, but he dodged. And dodged, and dodged again. The Rabbit-hero screamed, angry, sort of, and demanded, “Why won’t you fight back? Do you like getting the crap kicked out of your sorry behind? Are you a masiochist?”

“If you’re into that,” he answered, slowly.

Her face went bright red. “Shut up!”

Then, Shigaraki got an idea. It wasn’t a good idea. It was an awful idea. Shigaraki got a wonderful, awful idea.

“How’s that little boy toy of yours,” he asked, nonchalantly, when she lunged for him again. “Tenko, was it?”

Her whole body froze and kept moving in the same moment. “how do you know that name?” she hissed, darkly, still attacking, avoiding the hands that he was now half-heartedly attempting to throw at her.

“Oh, word on the street is our favorite Rabbit-Hero’s been falling for someone she only met once.”

Miruko stumbled, just a little. “You don’t know anything about it. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Shigaraki wanted to grin at her, sadistically, like some villain in an old movie. “Or do I know exactly where your little love-dove is, right now?”

She stilled, entirely, and took a step back.

“Call him, Miruko,” Shigaraki said, “See if he answers.”

But she was gone, leaping away, and she was out of sight. Completely gone. Very gone.

His whole body sagged forwards, slightly. That was over and done with. For the both of them. He’d never text her, never call her, and she’d assume Tenko was dead. It was the best way to do that, probably. It was going to have to end eventually. This was just a little faster than what he’d thought it would be, anyway.

Around him, of course, the city had burned.

She came for him later, though. Anyone would have, Shigaraki was just an idiot. He’d thought maybe she didn’t care that much. No one could care that much about an idea of someone met in person but sustained over texts.

Shigaraki was knocked to the ground, and his whole body was aching when she demanded, “Did you kill him.”

It wasn’t even a question, just a demand. Simple. Fierce. Angry.

“Kill who?”

“Tenko. My Tenko. Did you kill him.”

Something about the name he hadn’t used in years on her lips made everything easier and harder all at once. “So what if I did?”

“Then I’ll kill you.”

“You’re a hero, you can’t kill me.”

“I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident.”

He swallowed. “Why? He was just some guy--”

“Some guy? Some guy!? He was an idiot, alright, but he was my idiot, and sure, he was probably leading me on, but hell, I loved him, okay? I loved that stupid idiot and I loved every conversation we had, no matter if it was over text or not. And I said that if I never got to kiss him again I’d resurrect him and kill him again myself. So tell me. Did. You. Kill. Him.”

Tomura Shigaraki had never thought he’d find that kind of thing romantic.

But HOT DAMN. THAT WAS ROMANTIC.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Then tell me where he is,” her voice was a snarl. “Or not even your stupid quirk will be able to destroy my anger.”

Well, he thought, at least I’ll die by her hands. That’s the way I’ve always wanted to go. “Right here, Princess.”

Of course, she’d punched him in the gut so hard he’d had to revisit the taste of his lunch. She looked on in disgust. “Where is he.”

“Here,” he said, “I’m... I’m the guy you’re looking for. Always was. You can go ahead and kill me now. I await my glorious death at your hands.”

She hit him again, and he tasted blood.

“I want him back, you blithering idiot,” she snarled. How could a rabbit be so violent? He loved her for it. It was sexy as all get out.

“Well, he’s right here, and you’re--”

She hit him and he choked on a cough. Was one of his ribs broken, now?

“You’re beating me up, Miruko.”

She scoffed. “I’m beating up a villain,” she snapped. “Not Tenko.”

“You met Tenko at a club on Friday, October Third,” he said, crouched where he was on the ground, his fingers gritting into the dirt. “You called him “hottie” and said that you thought his hair looked like a cloud. And then you talked with him for about four months, non-stop texting. You called him to tell him to stay alive during that attack, didn’t you?”

Miruko was quiet. “Take that stupid hand off your face.”

Shigaraki did not want to. “No.”

“Do it.”

“Leave me alone, Mom.”

“Take it. Off.”

“No.”

She reached out for him, and before he could even flinch away, she pulled the hand off his face.

The silence between them stretched like a thin piece of rubber for a good fifteen minutes.

“Well,” she said, finally, somehow not very flustered, “Hot and stupid as ever, I suppose. You certainly need to work on your communication skills.”

“As do you,” He answered. “You didn’t believe me.”

“You’re a villain,” she snapped. “It’s your job to lie.”

He shrugged, casually getting up. “Yeah, true. I’ll get out of your hair, I guess then, Miruko.”

She’d grabbed his arm, hard, and he couldn’t move. “Did you not hear all the crap I just said about loving you?”

He’d laughed until he’d choked on his own blood. “That’s for someone you made up, isn’t it, Miruko? I’m a villain. You’re a hero. Never the twain shall meet.”

“Maybe they should,” she said, “Maybe they ought to. After all, if it was you I was talking to for all this time, you know far too much about me, and I know far too much about you. We’re both too powerful on our own.”

He was quiet. She wasn’t wrong. They could both destroy each other. It had just been nice to have someone to talk to about things that she wasn’t involved in. He couldn’t exactly rant to Dabi about how much he missed his parents. Dabi hated his parents. He couldn’t whine to Himiko about how boring life was, she could go anywhere she wanted, if she had a sip of blood. Maybe he was whiny, pesky, and a fool, but he liked Miruko. And if Miruko still liked him, despite the fact that half the time his lips were nonexistent, well. That was definitely something.

Her hands had been calloused when she cupped his cheeks. “I’ll be a villain for you if you be a hero for me.”

His breath had caught in his lungs. “Does it mean I get to kiss you?”

“If you want,” she answered, “There’s nothing stopping you.”

#dust bunny #mha dust bunny #shigaraki tomura #shiggy #miruko #mha miruko #mha #bnha #crack treated seriously #this is honestly becoming an otp of mine #headcanon #mha headcanon #ship headcanons #this turned into a fic #a long fic #what happened #what have i done

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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Moon

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | four

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: All relationships are about give and take.

Word count: 7k~

Rating: Explicit (Mature until the last few paragraphs)

Warnings/tags: nightmares, trauma, drinking, fluff and pining, drugs/being drugged (medicinal), wound care, blood, shots/needles, mature themes/language, emo shit, masturbation (f)

Notes: Hi friends. This is broken up in two portions: the first, being in Nevarro, and the second taking place some time later (hopefully that becomes clear when you read it heh). I'm hoping I captured the varying, distinct tones in each of the sections. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) Enjoy x (gif credit: @skyshipper)

They come at night.

The visions.

Your legs are rock, crumbling - eroding - with each weighted step, trudging through the city you once knew, laid bare to waste all around you. The air is grey brown, chalked with dust—with ash. There are bodies lining the road like trimmed hedges, floating by their ankles—ugly, corporal zeppelins. They’re pale. Their eyes are burned to coal and their tongues hang dead and waxy from their mouths.

They begin the same, choreographed like this; you follow the paths your mind has carved out for you, time and time again.

You spot him, plated in silver at the end of the row. Your feet stop. You see him, and he sees you. You feel his eyes - hawkish, piercing - under the murk of his visor. A predator’s gaze. He’s got a man in his fist—you think you recognize him, you might not—held by the scruff of his neck.

Sometimes it’s X’elo, bending to break in his gloved grasp. Other times, a stranger—a half remembered photograph—a memory of a memory of another dream entirely.

And sometimes, it’s you.

You hear the howl of wind scream through your bones—through the bones of the ruins there—but you don’t feel it. There’s only heat—the kind that’s unavoidable and omnipresent, as heavy as guilt. The hunter brings his hands to frame the man’s temples—yours too, sometimes— pebbles and slate trembling off you as you move towards them. You’re running, you realize, immobile but running and you’re not sure how or why—you never get there in time to find out.

He snaps his neck. You hear the crunch in your own ear—inside your own head.

It becomes night—blood moons drip wet from the sky. They splash onto the dirt. It turns to mud, caking the underside of your boots, squelching as you walk. You round a corner and—

You don’t recognize this. This is new. This— no, this is wrong.

A door. Rutted, freestanding—a dark monolith.

You stutter in your sleep, a crease in your brow.

It’s just a door.

No, not here—

A door. Black wood, a brass handle. Just a door, and you’re sweating. Just a door, and you’re suffocating—you’re being smothered—like your outsides are clawing to get back in through your throat and it’s sucking you in—this door, it’s just a door, it’s just a—closer, nearer, looming taller overhead—

You gasp awake, clutching at the scratchy blanket drenched cold with your sweat. Your rasps echo against the hull, sharp pants scraping the hollow metal, and you bring a hand to your chest—steadying, steadying, the fear of your racing heart.

You sit up, throwing your legs over the edge of the cot, and rake a shaky hand through your hair—the damp of the strands sticking to the nape of your neck. Your breathing evens out, tampering, with your forearms braced on the plats of your thighs; the rise and fall of your breasts against your sleep shirt quiet until you’ve stilled.

You roll off the bed, the aluminum frame whining with the shift, and you knock a knee into one of the carbonite pods as you stumble out of the storage room—your bedroom, now.

You couldn’t handle much more of it. You bought a bedroll the first planet you stopped to refuel at after Bajic, hermitting yourself away into the bowels of his ship. It was the only smidgen of untapped real estate left in the Crest, and it was far be it from you to complain about location. You were just thankful to be out of that copilot’s chair—no amount of bacta could unwind the knots in your neck after sleeping there night after restless night.

So you bunked with the bounties Mando had brought in, like one big macabre slumber party—the chrome slabs slotted up - watchful - in their chambers.

You try not to spare it much thought.

Padding through the Crest, soft bare feet leaving crescents on the steel deck, you step into the fresher to splash water on your face, jolting you back into the present and out of the nightmare, out of—

Just a door.

No—

You towel off, patting yourself dry. Inhaling, your lungs expand with the massive rush of air, and you hold it there until it hurts, until it prickles the corners of your eyes, and finally - deliberately - you release.

You look into the mirror.

You blink. She blinks back.

///

You make breakfast now.

It’s not something you both agreed to, it’s just something you do. Funny, how quickly you adapt to new normals, to new routines. You have rituals now—you two. You make breakfast, and you leave a bowl for him out on the counter before you slip into the shower. When you get out, the bowl is empty and the dishes are washed clean, drying face down on a rag. You smile. You never speak of it. Like ivy crawling up cobbled walls towards the sun, it happens— without prompt or feed, it simply is.

///

Nevarro reminds you of Dallenor—the craggy blandness of it, the endless black sands—and you fight the urge to hate it solely based on this principal alone.

You stay on the ship with the little one while Mando goes into town, meeting with some Greef Karga character to sew up Guild business. You have no idea how he ever managed to get any hunting done with the kid always acting up, pulling hijinks and inciting anarchy. He’s nearly torn the whole place to shreds. How such a tiny body can produce such a massive wake of damage is a mystery you will never solve.

You make yourself watch.

You force your jaw, set and held, as Karga’s men haul the quarries out of the ship, hovering eerily down the ramp.

X’elo, the smuggler from Vohai, some two-bit thief, and a woman Mando caught before you met, all parading single file out of the Crest like a funeral procession. They’re criminals, each and every one—they’re violent and they’ve done terrible, irredeemable things—but they’re people, too.

And isn’t that what makes it all so cruel. So sad.

The least you can do is give them an ounce of dignity before they’re subjected to their fate— however harsh, however fair.

So, you watch.

Maybe they don’t deserve it—they’re here by their own hand, after all, a bed of their own making— and maybe they haven’t earned it back any. But perhaps it’s less about what you can offer them and more about what you refuse to let the galaxy take. Because don’t you deserve to stay unfragmented? Complete? Would you rather be robbed of this humanity, your sense of decency—have it stolen from you?

Doesn’t it cost you nothing to be kind?

You pray neither sound nor fury will strip you of this—this open-eyed tenderness. You beg that you remain, undistilled, despite despite despite.

///

You’re so much more relaxed now then when you first came on board. You were as quiet as a church mouse then, tip toeing around the ship like you were afraid you’d ruin her.

Din will never admit it, but you even managed to get the jump on him once or twice—appearing exactly when and where he least expected. And he didn’t - couldn’t have - he didn’t expect you.

This.

And he looks at you now: lit by lamplight—the kerosene filament flickering warm in the dark hull— slotted back and humming to yourself as you swipe a finger over a holopad, feet propped up on a crate by the table, and it all looks organic. Right.

The drink in your hand, sloshing against the amber jug, no doubt eases your mood. You’re drinking it right from the bottle. He thinks it’s fucking charming.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Maker above,” you hiss, startling a foot out of your seat. You shoot him an accusatory glare, but there’s no malice in it—there’s laughter ringing around your eyes.

Honestly, that man needs a bell on him.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he comments dryly, stepping past.

You move your legs from their perch and sit a little straighter. “You- you could join me,” you chime, “if you want.”

His feet slow until he’s stopped completely and he pans over his shoulder to you. You can’t read his expression—it’s steel all the way through— but you think you feel the air around you both quiver - shudder - with something unspoken, something kinetic.

The scrape of the chair as he pulls it out from the table is deafening, the thunk of his metal body sinking into it even louder.

“What are you reading?” Mando asks.

You cast him a sheepish smile. “CoreWorld News.”

“Anything good?”

Your mouth twists, biting the inside of your cheek. “Never.”

He huffs a breathy chuckle.

There didn’t seem to be any good news anymore. You forage for it—scouring the net for just a whiff of it, of something pure. There is plenty of greatness left in the world, but you find that what it lacks most is goodness— humble and precious. More often than not, you come up empty and disappointed—but never so dissuaded that you do not search again the next day, and the day after that, and after that and after that again.

“How’d it go with Karga?” you ask, setting the holopad down and switching off the display.

“Fine. Good.”

“Good,” you smile. He’s terse—sparse. You think it’s endearing now—vexing too, without a doubt, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive anymore.

“Nothing close to Coruscant yet. More outer rim chaavla,” he grits out, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a tickle of bemusement in your voice and a quirk to your chin. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I know you want to get back.”

You hope the glow from the lantern in the galley is dim enough to camouflage the tinge sprung on your cheeks. The truth is becoming more and more clear to you, whether you like it or not: with each passing day, you want to go back to Coruscant less and less. You have to—you know you have to. You have your career, your whole life, waiting for you. But—

But.

“You told me it would take a while—longer than I’d like.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy to be here— I-I’m grateful,” you catch yourself.

He clenches his fist under the table, beyond your line of sight, gnarled tight into a ball. It tethers him down, anchoring him in place—because if he weren’t, fuck, he’d fly out of his seat so fast—

“Alright,” he chokes out.

“Alright,” you smile, glassy.

There’s a kind of mist encircling you two, an incense of a sort, intoxicating and sinewy and lulling you into a hushed calm. It’s thick around you - lush - and you can feel it settle like lead behind your eyes.

“Can I pour you a drink—for later?”

It’s late into the evening, well beyond the hour where the lines of decorum blur. You’ve crossed into the Other—that tarred, limber undertow. Dangerously weightless and free. The liminality between here and there— that twilight place.

Shadows bounce along the walls. Your outline—his too.

“I’d like that.”

///

You’re not as tipsy as you could be, but you’re less sober than you’d like.

Subconsciously, buried somewhere deep, you’re aware that Mando is humoring you and that you should let him get on with his night—but you don’t.

You’ll be annoyed at yourself later for this.

“Okay okay, what are your hobbies?”

A deadpan tilt of his helmet. “I—I don’t understand the question.”

You gape at him, your bottom lip glossed as it parts, plush and wet, and you laugh. “Hobbies,” you reiterate. “You know, stuff you like to do? For fun?”

You see the gears under that helm wheel and spin. It shouldn’t take anyone this long. The question is basic and the answer should be relatively immediate—but Mando has to mull it over. In all of his cycles, as hardened as they’ve been, he hasn’t been gifted the luxury of leisure - fun - and he hasn’t been afforded the time to dwell on the lack of it.

Selfless, without a moment of ownership to himself. This is the way.

“I-,” he pauses, mouth clamping shut. “Skip.”

“Fine, fine,” you tut. “What is... your favorite planet?”

Din stretches back, his beskar groaning against the chair.

All the planets he’d visited were out of necessity—out of demand and credit, never because he wanted to be there and certainly never out of favor. They were tainted—made insipid and unremarkable by the quarries he chased to them.

But there is one in particular that stands out; he remembers a planet the kid seemed to like—how he babbled the whole time, slung in the satchel at his hip, entranced and enthralled. He was on his best behavior, too—the little womp rat didn’t even try to stuff his tiny, wrinkled face with anything. Not once.

“Adega.”

“Adega,” you repeat, testing the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it. What’s it like?”

He draws in a long breath, his ribs yawning against the corset of his armor.

He should’ve gotten up by now—fuck, he shouldn’t have ever sat down in the first place. It’s not like he didn’t have anything to do; he needs to downshift the Crest’s power converters, switch off the shield projectors, chart a course to his next job, get some damn sleep if he’s lucky…

But you’re here before him. You’re here and he can’t deny you—not when you’re looking at him like that, like the sun shines out from his fucking face—far softer, far kinder than he deserves. Not when you’re here now, and you won’t be for much longer.

He’s racing against the clock—the swinging inevitability of it. Each moment he shares with you, is a moment that brings him closer to taking you back.

Din is a fool. He knows he’ll lose. He races anyways.

“It’s a water planet—mostly ocean,” he begins.

You allow your eyes to dip close, savoring the description, and you tuck your legs up to fold over themselves.

“But there are islands. Some are small, private—with red trees that go all the way to the sand. Others have whole cities on them.”

You remain quiet - patient - like marble, chiseled and sanded as thin as chiffon, veiling over your face in fine, cascading sheets. Transparent - ethereal - you listen to him blind, letting his words guide your sight.

“The kid-"

Your tongue darts out over your lip and he stutters. Din has to shift his hips, relieving the growing heat that’s tightening below his waist.

“T-The uh, the kid loved it. I’d never seen him like that. The bogwing didn’t want to leave,” he chuckles. He conjures the details he thinks you want—the details he thinks you might like most. “The people are honest—generous. The days are long, and the nights are warm.”

He’s no poet, but it doesn’t bother you.

“I can see it,” you say, before blinking your eyes open. "I'll have to go some time." There’s pink on your cheeks, seeping past your jaw and below the neckline of your shirt to the swallow of your breasts.

You look at him— he looks at you.

A noise hums from somewhere inside the ship.

“Are you scared of anything?” you murmur.

Mando lets a beat pass.

“I don’t think so. Not yet.” You smile at that—small, wistful. You’re not even sure why. “You?” he asks.

Your chest rises with a deep inhale. “I used to be scared of dying. I thought I was gonna die young. I was convinced—I had dreams about it all the time as a kid.”

But maybe that’s not it entirely. Maybe it’s not the fear of dying itself, but the dread of living and dying alone. And isn’t that at the heart of it—at all of this?

I just don’t want to do this all on my own.

He’s never been privy to this version of you—this sloping tone, the liquor buzzing through your speech, churning your words to treacle. You sound nonchalant in way that’s jarring, as if you aren’t talking about death— the fear of your own tenuous mortality.

“But I bet everyone does,” you continue dismissively, “just one of those things.”

He’s almost cautious when he replies. “I’m not sure they do.”

Your expression contorts, knotting for an agonizing moment—until the tension all but disappears. “Huh,” you shrug flippantly, and take a swig. That heaviness, that fog, dissipates nearly as soon as it arrived. “Anyways, favorite color?”

He rolls his eyes; you can see it in the way he tilts his head to you. Really, he seems to say, how old are we?

“You’re right, you’re right— that’s low brow. I can do better…” You melodramatically tap your chin, eyeing him pensively.

“Okay. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” you nod to his pauldron, “that symbol on your shoulder.”

Tawny fingertips trace absentmindedly over the emblem. “It’s a Mudhorn. It’s-” Mando hesitates, before his hand returns to his lap. “It’s the sigil of my clan.”

You arch your brow. “I didn’t realize you had a clan— is it- is it like, big?” Stars, you sound dumb—and there’s no excuse. You’re not even that drunk. “How- what is a clan, exactly?”

“In Mandalorian culture, your clan is your family. Aliit. Mine, it’s—it’s a clan of two.”

Something in the pit of you stirs, a sickly warmth, pulling at your gut like a rope. You glance over to where the child sleeps, snuggled away in his pram and your lips curl into a smile, hidden behind the bottle you bring to them.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” you say gently, taking another sip.

“We almost didn’t—shouldn’t have.”

His hands tense into his legs—the creak of leather against his thigh plates is audible even from where you sit.

You narrow your eyes curiously. He heaves.

“He was a bounty and I did my job. I turned him in. I went back for him, but—the kid, he saved my life, and I could’ve left him there—I would’ve, before.”

It all comes out like tires grinding through gravel, bruised and roughened. It’s regret, you realize—this is the sound of guilt, frigid and rued, pushing through his modulator. It makes you want to reach out to him, put your hand on his, comfort him, reassure him—something. But you can’t. He’s too far away. He’s on his own sea—untouchable.

You decide it right then and there: you can’t bare that sound, the wracked timbre of it. You hate it. You think you’d do anything to rid the way in constricts his throat—makes him hoarse and clipped, even through the guise of his helmet. It pains you, a visceral stabbing, right to your core. You could go a lifetime without hearing it, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“But you didn’t,” you offer.

“No,” he utters. “No, I didn’t.”

Mando gives you these tortuous, beautiful previews of himself. Like light passing through stained glass, you sneak brief glimpses of the paintings there, the stories and fables and the lessons they teach, until some great cloud drifts past, blotting out the sun, and all goes dark again.

You know this is rare. You know you’ll be home soon. You know to cherish it—to relish what he gives, when he gives it, if he gives it at all.

But—you want more. You’re a simple woman, at the end of all things: all you want is to hold him.

“I think you’re a better man than you let on, Mando.” There’s a knowing twinkle in your eye, a coy lilt to your loosened tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were flirting.

“You don’t know that,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have my suspicions." You're smirking something awful - deadly - as it sears into him.

He grunts, flames licking up his chest. Din has to bite back his grin, making careful it doesn’t shape the sound of his vowels; grateful for the helmet that buffers him, the mask that seals him away into anonymity, into apathy.

If he can convince you, maybe he can convince himself too. Maybe.

“Next question, dala.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

///

Your eyes are blown wide, gawking at him.

“I’m not a medic, Mando—I’m not a fucking surgeon!”

Mando crashes through the Razor Crest, red dollops trailing in pools behind him. He grunts, hand pressed to his side, blood pushing out of the gash that’s torn into him— a canyon down his unplated body, spewing angry and insistent with each spasm of his heart.

With a broad stroke, he sweeps the clutter off the table and onto the floor, spraying across the deck.

“Medkit,” he barks, hoisting himself up to lie, hulking and pained, out on the slab. You scamper to it, ripping it off the wall, and return to his lumbering body. His breathing is labored—he’s forcing it, seething it out.

Mando’s legs bend off the table at an uncomfortable angle and he rasps when you crane them up by his booted ankles – fuck, he’s heavy – to situate a small crate under his feet. They drop with a dulled thud— without muscle, without resistance. The languid weight of a dying man.

You’re stationed beside him, medkit spilled open. “W-What now, what do you need?”

“I need you,” you heard him say, deep and bassy, as he ascended the ramp. With a colossal drum of your heart, you spun around - I need you - a blush stippling your jaw. The pregnant expectation built behind weeks and weeks of stalemates and stolen glances - I need you - all rearing to a head here and now and finally, finally something—until you saw him, doubled over, bracing himself on the wall, a line of blood smearing behind his palm.

“Bacta-“ Mando wheezes, “bacta shot.”

You rifle through the supplies, littering them as you dig through the box.

Sure, you had gotten your first aid certification with the Movement—it was required, and you retook the courses every few cycles. But that was gauze wrappings and mouth-to-mouth and anti-inflammatory tablets—that was not this, and this is fucking surgery. You’re out of your depth—and Mando must be out of his damn mind.

“I nee-“ He inhales sharply, and his body spasms, gripping the ledge of the table like a vice. “My chest plate—take it off.”

He’s told you bits and parcels of the Mandalorian way—of his Creed— and you aren’t under the impression that this would be strictly sanctioned.

“M-Mando, I thought— are you sure?”

“Yes I’m kriffing sure—do it. Just do it,” he snaps. He hates this—he fucking hates this. Soft. Weak—weak weak weak, he’s so fucking weak. Laandur.

You fumble over the armor, uncoordinated as you unclasp it from his cuirass and Mando strangles out a sigh as soon as it leaves him. At last, you fish the shot from the medkit and hold it up to the light, the medicine like venom as it whirls in the tube. It’s uncomfortably large—simply holding it makes you squirm.

“W-What is that?”

Your eyes flit over the needle and then back to the bounty hunter. “What do you mean ‘what is that’? It’s a shot.”

“That’s a lance,” he growls.

“It’s ebacta-”

“It’s green!” he hisses out incredulously.

“It’s all they had!” you bite back, panic skipping through your veins.

You’re practically yelling at each other, the tension winding and coiling tighter and higher as the seconds tick by. You feel each one, tapping along your vertebra like a metronome, keeping time, keeping time, wasting time—all this back and forth is a waste of time and—

You’re nervous—you’re fucking terrified—and Mando doesn’t frequent this position either—this vulnerability. He doesn’t know what to do with it, where he belongs in it. I need you, he said. He hadn’t needed anyone before and now look at him, bare breasted before you, wounded and mewling like roadkill.

You rap the needle with a knuckle, banishing the air pocket, and test the plunger. Droplets of liquid spurt from the tip, and he begins to rile.

“Dala,” he warns.

“Mando,” you mimic.

“Nu draar-”

“Do you want my help or not?” you spit out, and he shrinks, visor trained on the jab, that unnatural chartreuse swirling inside the glass vial. “Okay. Okay, on three.”

“Wait, wait-"

“One..." You try to sound firm - competent - but you’re a fucking mess. Your breathing is erratic, tunic soiled with sweat, and you’re trembling.

“You don’t-“

“Two...”

Mando huffs exasperatedly, “Ah, fuck it-”

“Three.”

You drive the syringe down, stabbing into him. His body seizes—flexing rigid—as soon as the viscous gel is injected, oozing oozing oozing until it’s pumped empty and spent.

And then— nothing.

All that whirlwinded frenzy, that raging tempest, and now silence— dead silence. He lays there motionless, fidgeting ceased, that ungodly needle pitched like a flag pole from his chest.

… Shit.

“Hey,” you touch a hand to his shoulder.

The smug bastard could be having a laugh under that helmet and you’d have no idea. That’s what you tell yourself—that’s what you’d prefer to believe anyways; it’s better than the alternative, better than—than than than fuck—

“Hey, this isn’t funny...” A little rougher now, you jostle him. He doesn’t react.

“… Mando?”

His head lolls to the side.

With a whistle, the room goes mute. Sound and oxygen alike, it all gets vacuumed out, and your senses invert. You can hear every tick of your body: the bone of your jaw as your teeth mash together, the pulse at your wrist, your stammering heart beating beating beating in your inner ear, the bob of your trachea as it grates against your neck.

Kriff. You killed him—you killed the Mandalorian.

Oh Maker, oh shit-

You press down around the puncture site with a wide palm before yanking the syringe out, flinging it away. You’re shaking him now, wrestling with his limp body, and you’re shouting—croaked with worry, with fear.

“Fuck, Mando—Mando!"

The sound is like glass shattering.

He gasps wildly, gulping down air as if he’d been drowned, writhing like the undead from your operating table. You buckle over him, fatigued and slumped, and cry out in blessed relief.

Your instincts, those poor frail nerves, tell you to smack him—but given that he’s bleeding out, you refrain.

“Don’t do that to me!” you exclaim, breathy and strained.

“Don’t do that to you?” Mando retorts, panting. You let out a weak crackle of laughter and he moans. It’s like he’s been hit by a speeder - twice - forward and then reversed over again.

“Maker, what did you give to me?”

“I got it on Vohai. They uhm- they said it was good quality-“

“And you believed them?”

Your mouth twists shyly. “I-I wanted to believe them,” you correct him.

It’s his turn to laugh now, tired and raw. Oh, you sweet little thing.

You swallow, saliva coating your ragged windpipe. “I’m sorry—Maker, I’m so sorry, a-are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, gargled, “but remind me never to have you save my life again.”

That earns him a light slap to his arm. If he’s well enough to dole cheap shots, you figure he’s fit enough to take yours too. He’s spliced open, whole chunks of him missing, and he still has the wherewithal to be an ass.

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.”

///

Regrettably, Mando might have been spot on about the bacta—in fact, you’re starting to question whether it’s really bacta at all.

A delirious grunt ripples through the bounty hunter’s modulator as you cut open his ripped flight suit, careful not to slice him with the vibroblade. His black undershirt is matted to his gaping wound, the blood bubbled over and through the rough material, and you have to peel the fibers out of his coagulating flesh to get to it. You toss the fabric into the bucket next to you with a sloppy, wet plop.

It didn’t even occur to you. You were so swept away by the state of him—by the dizzying carnival of it all as soon as Mando breached the Crest—you didn’t consider the fact that you’d be seeing him. Touching him.

You have to mask your expression when you meet his skin for the first time. He’s golden—he’s golden everywhere—like desert sand dunes sizzling under ripe, afternoon suns—dappled with memories of violence, branded into him.

You’ve never heard him like this. He keeps noising these feverish little nothings— gasping, moaning in a language you don’t recognize—and you do your best to distract him. It’s one of the tenets you recall from your aid training: keep them talking, keep them sharp—engaged.

“Do each of these have a story?” you ask, eyeing the marks that riddle and pucker him.

“Some of them.”

“What about this one here?” You touch a faded ribbon of scarring. It’s older than the others—paler. Your fingertips are cool and he blazes beneath them.

He tries not to twitch. You try not to notice.

“Fell out of a tree when I was a kid—haven’t thought about that in a while,” Mando pants. “B-Broke my wrist, got scraped to shit— my buir, m-my mother, she chewed my ear off.”

“Mm, I bet she did,” you smirk—you can relate to the feeling.

“I-I remember the lines around her eyes. H-Her eyes— they were green, bright green— jade.”

He lets out a wince as you swipe a disinfectant soaked rag over him. You cringe and flash him an apologetic look.

“Sounds beautiful,” you muse, a quiet smile pulling at you as your deft fingers work. “Did you get her pretty eyes too, Mando?”

Something is caught in his throat— a chuckle, or a cough more likely. “No, they’re brown. Just brown.”

Your whole body locks.

Just brown.

Two words - just brown - and suddenly you’re rich— full to the brim with him.

And fuck, if it doesn't feels like a gift. Like he gathered something precious and laid it in your arms and said here, you can have this now. We can share. Sometimes you forget that there’s a man under all those layers; a man— a warm blooded, tanned skin, brown eyed man. You hadn’t often wondered what the Mandalorian was hiding under his armor—he was so finite, so unmovable, the mask he wore became him. He was beskar - indistinguishably - through and through.

But that was before. And now you’re blinded with him— with all the details you cannot unsee.

“S-She was the last person to take care of me—like this.”

It comes over you so suddenly, you’re taken aback by it: that knee-jerking gut wrench. And not because there’s heartbreak in his voice, but because there isn’t. Because he’s had to be so invulnerable—so unyielding and invincible for so long—that he doesn’t even realize what he’s without.

And you, if only for a silly, naïve moment, wish you could give it back to him. Every little ounce of goodness that he’s been deprived of—to dip into his time stream, and rewrite.

To plant but a seed of it there, even if you don’t stay long enough to see it’s harvest.

“Tell me more about her,” you say.

And beyond expectation, beyond reason, he does.

///|||///

This—this is wrong.

He feels pulpy - soggy - wrong. He’s more liquid than he should be—there’s nothing solid about him now. He’s swept away in the tide of it—this green current charging through him and he let’s go - what is there to hold onto anyways? - floating belly up on his back.

Din spills—like the aperture split into his side, he gushes. Whatever dam he’s forged around himself, the beskar and duracrete there, cracks.

The stream trickles until he floods and like any good story, he starts from the beginning.

He tells you of home—his first home. Aq Vetina.

You’re plucking spikes and nettle from his side, and he barely feels it—all he has is this sinking, unending wet—and they hit the tray with dull plunks, punctuated and staccatoed.

He tells you of the adobe dwellings and the domes and columns. Marketplace canopies and caravan bazaars.

plunk

The oak trees, the willow bark, the spires he’d climb until the sun set.

plunk

The tall mountains and the dry, rubbled earth. Of the nameless neighbor children he played with, kicking a ball through the dirt. Red robes trailing, fraying.

plunk

His mother. The shawl she wore. The copper of his father’s ring. The herbs she grew by the light from their kitchen window. How he held her hand while they sat by the fire.

plunk

His tongue doesn’t belong to him—it wags numb and supple. He’s lost his sense of direction, unbound by north or south, and these words are simply happening to him. They keep happening and happening and escaping and—

It’s not just the off-bacta speaking for him, making him pliant. He wants this. He wants to bend—he wants to bend for you.

And now there’s no stopping it—there’s no breaking this, no halting it's downhill momentum. Din describes the attack, the heat of the fire as his town - his world - burned down, of his parents concealing him—a child, abandoned and bunkered away in a cellar to live or die with or without them— being rescued by the Death Watch and raised as a Mandalorian himself.

Your bandaging has long since finished, but you remain, hovering over him as you listen—listen as the jigsawed shards of his life stitch themselves together. Like a moth to a flame, you are drawn in and in and in, until you’re butted against the wick of it. Inseparable.

When the well of his words runs dry, neither of you go to move. Pin-drop silence envelops you. Your hands still on his chest, palms like a weighted quilt—warming him, securing him. He feels-

He feels safe.

“Mando,” you murmur, and the epithet has never sounded so fucking sacred, whispered from you like a prayer. You cripple him; the web of concern along your brow, the sheen in your eyes, the breathy part of your lips.

His throat has gone dry and he shakes his head left right, beskar grating against the makeshift gurney. Mando. No. No, that’s not right—that’s not who he is, that’s not who he wants you to know.

He draws his hand up—it’s so fucking heavy, he can barely lift it—but he tries, he tries, he wants to. You’re right here, you’re touching his chest and you’re healing his body—his mind too, if he’d only let you—and if he could just get to you. If he could just lace his fingers with yours—would you let him? Should you?

“M-My name-"

A warbled wail from the kid’s alcove rips through the cradling hush, and you both react immediately, lurching up to tend to the child. Din forgets—he hears his foundling and his reason leaves him—and he flinches with a grimace. You urge him down, steadying him with a pointed look.

“Rest.”

It’s a command, there’s no question to it, and it’s teeming with all of these unrecognizable concepts— care and assurance, worry and compassion. So impossible to disobey in the way that gentle things are—too soft and too right to say no to. He relents - gives - helmet thudding when it connects back with the table.

Din, he pleads, desperate for you to read his mind. Like a mantra, his subconscious rambles it on a drug addled figure-eight, coming around only to repeat itself again, infinite and wanting. Din Din Din-

Only when the child’s cries muffle into hiccups and his hiccups slur into coos does he let his exhaustion get the better of him. There was too much—it was an assault from all fronts. The blood loss, the drugs, his life like a monsoon as it crushed him open. And all it took was a wound, a brush with his mortality, for him to surrender it to you.

He turns his head, searching for you through the blur of his vision. You’re there in the doorway, rocking his boy in your arms, haloed with light.

I need you, he said. I need you I need you I need you I need-

Din’s eyes shut.

He doesn’t dream. He sleeps like the dead, blissful and undisturbed.

///

You spend hours scrubbing the deck on all fours, spine hunched and aching, cleaning scarlet off silver steel. It got everywhere, the splatter of it—even on the surfaces Mando didn’t come in contact with. The smell of blood, that nickel musk, it lingers long after its welcome—long after the stain of it, the stain of him, has vanished from the Crest. From your skin.

At some point during the night you nod off next to him, curled over a crate, and when you wake Mando is gone—presumably back to his quarters but gone all the same. All traces of him gone - expunged - and the ship feels hollow and gaping— a sterile Mando shaped hole in his absence. You follow his lead, retreating to your bed for a few more hours of sleep.

The next morning doesn’t go as you’d like.

You weren’t sure if he would remember any of it—of what he confided, of what he almost confessed— but by the way the tension ferments between you, you can only assume he does.

They go through their routines, stilted as they are.

He’s up early— unnecessarily early. Mando goes to the cockpit to rouse the ship, plugging in the coordinates from his tracking fob to chase after the escaped bounty. Thrusters set. Repulorlifts and auxiliary engines engaged. Deflector shield generator on. Weapons check. Atmospheric pressure regulator switched.

He’s slower, you note— his movements are crawled—with only half the feline agility he typically possesses and you want to tell him to sit, to take a break—to get off his damn feet and to let you help him—that it’s okay if he rests. That he can take time for himself. That it doesn’t make him any less of a Mandalorian—any less of a man.

But, you can’t.

And so the day is pulled taut like this—a bowed string ready to snap, chalked full of false starts and tinny stoicism. A sharp, intentional air of avoidance with every action. They were out of step, out of sync, and it reminds you of the first days you’d spent on the Razor Crest, orbiting each other—planets apart.

Because he’s shared too much. You knocked, Din answered. He opened the door and he let you past and now he has nowhere left to go but inwards. He’s cornered with no exit strategy - no option - but to close back up again and furl in on himself like a fern in the dark. Curling - evaporating - until he’s nothing but armor—nothing but mirrored edges and metal plates.

But—

you still made his breakfast and he still washed your dishes—and maybe that is enough.

///

You pass each other in the corridor, as you have done before.

You smile gently—soft as sin— and it breaks him, like it always does.

You have a hand on the rung of the ladder when he calls your name, and you turn to him, bright eyed.

“Thank you,” he rasps, “I never thanked you.”

He’s so strikingly sincere— standing there, arms dangling stiff by his sides. He looks different now, somehow— different, but the same. Fuller, bigger—smaller, too.

Human, you realize.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “Of course, Mando-“

“Din.”

You forget to breath. Time forgets to move.

“My name is Din.”

///

Din. Din Djarin.

It takes you almost a week to say it—to even utter the syllable aloud—and you only ever risk it when he’s gone on a hunt and you know you’re alone.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” you hear him say, the fabricated echo of his voice in your skull. He’s got two fingers in you—you can envision them now, clear and potent, the golden hide of them—and he moves slow as he takes you right to the edge, dancing dastardly along that cliff side before retracting himself and backing off. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking; you can feel it in his fingertips, how they mock you—how they scorch into you and leer.

Even in your fantasy, he’s a prick.

“You like it when I make you cum on this filthy fucking cot?”

You keen into your hand, whimpering into your bitten raw lips. The scene is playing on without you now, writing itself. All you can do is lay here and take it, succumb to it, starved and desperate and vile as you thrash on your bedroll.

You rove your palm over your chest—

He snakes up your shirt, twisting your nipple until it’s peaked and perked under him, until you yelp with that muddled jolt of pleasure and pain. He’s lazy and fitfully unhurried, each movement sauntered and proud. He’s coaxing it out of you, this orgasm, as he kneels over you, your vision flooded with the cold menace of his beskar. Finally, tortuously, he traces his thumb over your clit, toying with you in small circles until you’re shaking—vibrating, every molecule of you—like you’re going to burst, incinerate there in your bed. He’s urgent now, demanding, and thrusting into your swollen cunt and the pressure mounting in your heat swells until, until, oh my st-

You fuck your fingers until they prune, drenched with the thought of him teasing you, stuffing you full with anything he’ll give you; his hands, his cock—Maker, his tongue. You let it roll around your mouth when you touch yourself like this in the dark belly of the ship—heels digging into your thin mattress, knees steepled together—and you’re panting, wanton and velvet, before a fist shoots up to muffle the moaned name wafting from your lips like smoke.

“Din”

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #mando x female oc #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x female oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin smut #King of Cups #pedro pascal #fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #slow burn #smut

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darthwheezely · 4 years ago

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let me - f.w.

Summary: Fred will always choose you, even if you don’t know and wouldn’t choose him back. Even in the worst of times, Fred would do anything to let you know how much he loves you.

This is based off my recent break up which was supremely awful and I’m going to be picking up the pieces for...a while. This is kind of self-indulgent, I’m sorry about that!

people that might like this: @whiz-bangs78 @monoscandal @gcdric @theweasleyslut @thehufflepuffwife @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn @oh-for-merlins-sake @slytherinsunrise @lupinsclassroom @durmstrange

Warnings: angst, but slightly fluffy??? mentions of cheating and light homophobia it’ll be ok basically lol and cussing and bullying...oops? PROLLY FUCKING AWFUL WRITING PLZ I TRIED IM JUST EMO RN SKSKWKWJWKKSK

It wasn’t that Fred Weasley hated your boyfriend, it was actually that he had really liked him. Kind of really enjoyed his company. Even went as far to say that he considered him a friend.

And because of that, he told himself, he wasn’t able to see exactly what was happening.

Everyone had known that you and Sam Tuckson had broken up, to be honest, drama at Hogwarts was dulling and unfortunately for you, you and your relationship had fallen prey to the lull of gossip.

Sam Tuckson had basically slid his way into your life at the beginning of fifth year, and to you he was everything you had wanted. The Hufflepuff Keeper was tall, tanned, smiled, and laughed like everything that came to him (including you) was easy, and something in that carefree sense of a walk and talk he had was more than enough to satiate your feelings. You were for all intents and purposes madly in love with him, and everything up until your break up five days ago led you to believe he was as well.

To say Fred had been a little jealous at first was taking it a bit lightly. It didn’t take a whole lot to figure out that Fred had been pining for you since second year, and to make matters worse? He was your best friend. For the first couple of months or so in your new relationship, he found himself at night silently wishing and pretending he was Sam, not needing to steal glances across tables in the Great Hall, being able to hold onto your hand a little longer than he was allowed, and to finally be able to taste your lips on his whenever you wanted him to.

For the first time, he wasn’t your number one boy anymore and it killed him - but the only thing able to bring him back was the joy Sam brought you day after day. It was starting to eat at him past month 2, and with that brought George:

“Freddie. Mate,” he sighed looking at his older twin. Fred hadn’t left bed at all that day and knew he wouldn’t leave it for another day unless he did the inevitable-

“-you have to either tell her or wait. She misses us...she misses you.”

“I know, Georgie.” He looked at George, longing for peace evident in his angular frame. Fred nodded and sighed, sitting up.

“I know.”

Fred had made it his personal mission to befriend your boyfriend, and while it was painstakingly murderous for the first week or so - he eventually became to warm up to the Hufflepuff boy, even going as far as hanging out with him and letting him in on pranks with George when he wanted. Honestly? The guy was starting to grow on him, the idea of a friend of his dating you seemed to lessen the emotional blow of knowing it wasn’t him, and he felt himself over time starting to possibly lighten his own load on you.

And then the rumors started to fly around.

Fred had been walking to Transfiguration and had rounded the corner-

“I heard he’d been slipping it to Astoria and Daphne!”

Who the hell are they talking about?

“Nah, he doesn’t like Slytherin girls-“

“But have you heard about him with Slytherin boys!” They snickered loudly.

Fred continued to walk, the high pitched giggles of the younger Ravenclaw girlsinging in his ears.

After class he made his way to the Great Hall for lunch when a gaggle of Hufflepuff ladies crossed in front, (they always take so damn long when they’re in a line across, he thought)

“Anyway, I heard he hates her guts now.”

“Sam could never hate her! They were together for soooo long you know.”

His heart stopped. No. No they couldn’t be talking about-

“It’s because she’s frigid that’s what I heard.”

“Y/N? Frigid? Please have you seen her with him, she acted like a slut around him! Disgusting really.” She wrinkled her nose.

He felt his knuckles whiten and a lump in his throat begin to rise.

“I heard he’d been doing it the whole time!” The last one said as they hitched a left to the courtyard.

Fred hadn’t ever known what it’s like to be frozen or paralyzed with anger, but he learned it then.

You were sitting in your navy and golden dorm, the only sanctity and safety you felt surrounded by the colors you knew so well. You hadn’t felt the strength to go the Great Hall for anything today, not after breakfast. Not after you waltzed in after what felt like a normal morning and heard tinny laughs and stifled giggles from the Hufflepuff table.

You’d been made the fool by the boy you loved. And there was nothing at this point that could get you past that realization now.

You’d heard the rumors in the hallway. You’d heard them when Pansy Parkinson sat next to you in Potions and whispered in your ear, “maybe just dip yourself in amortentia next time. Might last longer.” You’d seen the way Sam Tuckson, Hufflepuff Golden Boy, looked over at you with nothing but pity in his eyes before he trudged to the Ravenclaw table, looked at the ground and murmured-

“I’m sorry it ended like this. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to love you sometimes.”

And scurried back to his own seat.

You hadn’t had the strength to find the twins. You could barely find the strength to move from your bed, to get more tissues. You simply didn’t have it. And then.

There was a knock on your door.

“Please, Cho, not right now, okay?” You croaked, turned away from the door. You could barely hear the door creak open to see your best friend’s head creeping from the other side.

“Knock, knock, princess.” He said softly, showing your turned frame a small smile.

“Can I come in? Please?” You nodded. Fred came through, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. He looked at you curled up in your bed with your uniform still on. Your favorite throw blanket draped over you as you laid on top of the covers and all he could think of was how.

How did he let this happen?

“Freddie, you couldn’t have known.” Fred blinked realizing he had spoken out loud and froze in place.

“Yes, actually I could have”

“Fred-”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” he almost growled it, it was so low that you could barely register it was him saying it. You turned him to look at him then, pulling your knees to a criss cross applesauce position. He clenched his jaw feeling tears and the lump in his throat finally erupting.

“See, Y/N, I’ve always been there to protect you. It’s never been a job, or a chore, because I’ve been so blindingly in love with you ever since you hurled a bezoar at me in Potions when we were 12.” You choked out a small giggle at that, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked up at you then tears on his face.

“I know this isn’t fair. Because this is a really shit time to be selfish and tell you how much I love you, but I was his friend, Y/N. I willingly sat and enjoyed his company and I could’ve seen what he was doing to you because I’m a guy I should know what guys do and quite frankly? You deserve so much” he swallowed and readjusted his jaw again feeling more tears as he watched you crying to, wanting to stop but something in him told him this was it he couldn’t hold in it he couldn’t-

“-so, so much more. Than me. Than him. Jesus, than everyone. And, love, I am...so sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner. Please know our friendship wasn’t a lie and we never have to discuss this ever I just...you’re so bloody fucking perfect and knowing I watched him do that to you without knowing I just-”

“Freddie.” You held out your arms. It was his turn for him to choke then as his knees buckled and fell towards you on the bed.

You couldn’t be mad at him or angry or upset. You weren’t. You were just,,,

“Fred, I need time.” You whispered against his shoulder, his body engulfing yours in a tango of arms and legs and breaths that only you two knew this well.

“Angel, I didn’t mean to make it seem-” he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I know you weren’t asking me of anything, Fred. I love you I just...I need time. For a lot of things.” He swallowed and nodded moving to get off the bed and give you the space you needed. However, you pulled him back.

“I love you, Freddie. That isn’t changing.” And out of force his arms seemed tighter as he breathed out, meeting your forehead.

“And I’d wait every second of everyday to hear you say it again.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years ago

Note

Yeah, here I am once again. Appearing after the chaos I created 😂 but OMG WE HAVE ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT?? AND THEN THERE COMES THE ANGST?? I'M READY😎

I'm glad to inform you I finished the homework and I have only two assignments and two exams left that I will today :)) It was like:

Me: Maybe I should do this tomorrow??

Brain: But what about Dani?? And the chapter??

Me: Fuck, you are right, I need to do this :(

But anyways, here I am:

"He had been woken up by music, by love, by violence and by nightmares. And out of all those times, out of all those centuries, this was easily his favourite way to wake up." just the beginning and I'm having lots of feels🥺🥺

“Happy anniversary,” Magnus grinned against the other man’s mouth. “Happy anniversary,” Alec whispered. Fifteen years.Fifteen years since Alec Lightwood loved one man so much that he had changed the world for him." 15 YEARS? HRJWKDJDJ LOVE THEM💙

"Magnus understood why his son was acting all over the place. The boy was supposed to take up the position of Consul after Alec" *singing "Oh baby, no baby, you got it all wrong baby" *

"Next thing he knew, Alec was on top of him. His mouth was on Magnus. Where, exactly, Magnus didn’t notice – or care. He liked Alec everywhere." OH WELL, THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY! 😏

"Not the kind of banging he had hoped to start the day with to be honest." OH god😂😂 I love this man. He is the bane of my existence!” (I just- The puns are killing me 😂)

“It might be karma, darling,” (He got a point. Karma is a bitch)

“Since when do you have a problem with excessive glitter?” (Yeah Alec, Your excuses are getting worst 😂)

"You better do it, or I will tell everyone about your secret" YOU LITTLE SHIT!

"That child is the reincarnation of Christopher Lightwood!” 😂😂 i literally scared my dog cause I laughed so hard!!

"There were whispers and rumours all over the shadow world that Angel Raziel had given up on Alec’s Clave." OH THE FUCK NO!! I SWEAR I WILL THROW SOME HANDS AT HEAVEN!! "Because if Magnus found out Raziel was the one causing all this pain for Alec, he would march up to heaven and set the bastard on fire himself." FUCK YEAH. I'M COMING WITH YOU!! 🔪 🔪

“Livia Blackthorn had been listening through the Idris wards to gather pieces of information that might be crucial for Alec’s Council.” I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT WAS LIVVY!!

Selena is Ragnor’s favorite!!! I LOVE IT

“The shadowhunter was a good influence on him. Magnus hoped Alec would see it sooner rather than later.”😂😂 You love him Alec and you know it!!

“She walked over to Magnus and hugged him tightly. And he sensed it immediately. The second heartbeat.” What?? WHAT??? I ALMOST SCREAMED. OMG. OMG

“Magnus stared at the necklace. The necklace he had bought in the 19th century for Camille. The necklace that had ended up in the hands of Will Herondale and then his sister. The necklace that had belonged to the Lightwood family for generations.” OMG SHE IS GIVING HIM THE LIGHTWOOD NECKLACE!!! THAT THING LITERALLY COMPLETE THE CIRCLE. BELONGED TO MAGNUS, CAMILLE, WILL, CECILY, ALL THE LIGHTWOODS AND THE MAGNU’S SON!!

I'm freaking out now because Izzy doesn't know??? Or maybe she does???And it's waiting to tell them?? I feel like a worried parent!!!

“But he knew it was all part of growing up. He would never pressure them to talk about their feelings or force them to make themselves vulnerable. All he could do was be there for them when they were ready to let it all out. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Magnus asked. He tried. Just in case.” What do I see here? Parenting doing right💙💙

“If you want love, you must be willing to accept the vulnerability that comes with it.” I just. This man gives the best advice ever!!

“I’ll try,” Rafael promised. “I don’t like lying.” “I know,” Magnus smiled. “So much like your dad.” But Alec did lie though. Magnus pushed the thought away. (Why is this such a rollercoaster??)

“His children were so much like his husband that sometimes it made Magnus wonder if they needed him at all. It was a ridiculous thought of course. But it stilled swam around his head. Sometimes a part of him thought it would be better if Alec had been the one to stay back and Magnus was the one to leave. The kids would be better off with Alec, his mind said. He always knew what to do with them.” IT'S NOT OK TO MAKE ME CRY WHEN I HAVE AN EXAM IN 3 MINUTES!!

Back from my exam 😂😂 And don’t worry. Just got one mistake :))

“Max of course was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. His regular look. But just below the pearl necklace wrapped around his neck was the Lightwood necklace.” YES. MAX WEARING THE LIGHTWOOD NECKLACE!!

“Alec walked out of their bedroom a moment later, and Magnus quite literally felt his heart stutter. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of loving and Alec still made his heart stutter.” They are the reason I believe in love💙💙

“If Magnus wasn’t wrong, he could see the thin layer of kohl under Alec’s blue eyes. Alec rarely enjoyed wearing makeup. But he rarely enjoyed saying no to children too. Magnus threw Rafael a grateful smile and the boy winked back.” Magnus and Rafael getting Alec to wear makeup is my will to live 😂😂

“The words died on Alec’s lips when his eyes fell on Magnus. The man sighed as he stared at Magnus. Fifteen years. Fifteen years and Magnus still took Alec’s breath away.” Jagcydwjendieu I’m emo

What?” Magnus asked coyly. “Is it too much?” “You know damn well it’s not,” Alec hissed and pulled Magnus towards him. “You look perfect. How do you look so perfect?” “Because I am standing next to you,” Magnus smiled.( They bad/perfect flirting it's just *chef kiss*)

“Bapak is a good looking one in the family,” Rafael pointed out. “You are the chaotic one and I am the smart one.” “What am I then?” Alec asked dryly. “A sack of potatoes?” “You’re the sexy one,” Magnus grinned. “A sexy sack of potatoes.” (THAT FAMILY IS KILLING ME IN THE GOOD WAY💙💙)

Magnus nudged Rafael on the back. The boy sighed and walked to his brother. “Come,” he took Max’s hand and led him to his bedroom. “Let’s find you something nice to wear, okay?” Max mumbled again but followed Rafael anyway. (I just can’t with all the love this family has!!!)

“Nope,” Alec said. “They are stuck with me.” “And you’re stuck with me,” Magnus replied. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Magnus,” Alec randomly speaks poetry… And he says he is not good with words??

“Selena was wearing a blue crop top with the words “MIND YOUR OWN UTEREUS” written in gold. David was in a simple sky-blue t-shirt, the colour of Max’s magic.” OK BUT THEM?? THEY’RE BEAUTIFUL

“Max hadn't changed his clothes. But he was wearing a blue leather jacket that belonged to Rafael. He looked happy about it.” I said it once and I will say it again. They are the definition of siblings

NO!! IT'S TIME FOR THE TOAST. I’M GOING TO CRY!!

"To Alec and Magnus - for being themselves and inspiring everyone else to do the same." CHEERS TO THAT BRO!!

“Isabelle,” Magnus called gently. “Let’s go easy on the champagne tonight, yes?” YES IZZY. I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU AND YOU NEED TO REST AND BE PROTECTED OK? OK

“The argument of “who gave the best gift” had started when Jace and Izzy had gotten drunk on vodka. It didn’t help that Alec had gotten drunk as well. All three Lightwood siblings had then proceeded to have an argument about who had the best spouse. The whole night had been drunken chaos. “

“So, Magnus had let his husband be that 18-year-old boy again. The boy who got drunk and fought with his siblings and sang songs about Magnus’ pretty eyes” 💙💙💙💙 This is just to pure

Ok, I feel like this is the chapter of the snippet from a long time ago. The one of Alec and Magnus in the closet while Mavid were talking, but I’m not sure

Why couldn’t this boy just cause chaos during his travel year like the rest of them? Why did he actually study and do his research as recommended?😂😂LMAOO

“Magnus didn’t know why. But the room suddenly felt rather hot. Poor David noticed his discomfort and came to his rescue. But unfortunately, the rescue attempt only made it worse” David, I love you with all my entire heart, but seriously??

DANI, NO! We have already been through this!! I have trauma out of this!!

OK, ok. It could have been worst

“But the time for talking was done. They were living it now.” I SWEAR I’M NOT CRYING!!

“Afraid of what?” Magnus asked. “I’m afraid you won’t find me attractive,” Alec said so quietly that Magnus barely heard it (MY HEART!!)

“But death is so much better than this. It’s so much better than waiting for the day you look at me and I no longer see that spark in your eyes.” THIS. THIS WAS THE DEAD OF ME

Fuck, i have an exam in 5 minutes and now I’m crying

Finally out of the exam 😂 This teacher literally asks us a question from the guidebook and if it's not 100% what it said there, then we fail

But going back to this HOLY SHIT I LOVE MAGNUS!!

“Did something say something to you?” Jace demanded, standing up angrily. “Because I swear by the angel-” “Nobody said anything, Jace!” Alec rolled his eyes. “I own a mirror!” “And is this mirror broken or something?” Isabelle asked incredulously. “Alec, honestly!” (I BELIEVE IN LIGHTWOOD SIBLINGS SUPREMACY!!)

“Yeah, man!” Simon nodded. “You are objectively good looking.” “Objectively good looking?” Jace snorted. “Excuse you, but my parabatai is smoking hot! He is a freaking prize, okay? If we had a magazine for hot shadowhunters, you would be on the cover page. Every single issue.” “Okay, that’s enough!” Alec interrupted. “Magnus, are you happy? Now all my friends have told me I am pretty.” “I said smoking hot,” Jace corrected. (*Sighs* I fucking love parabatai)

“Dad, I don’t know why you are so worried,” Max said in a bored tone. “You’re a total DILF.” David choked on his champagne and Jace patted him on the back. I’m dying jajdhuwejdjkew😂😂

“It means Dashing and Irresistible Looking Father” Singing again *Oh baby, no baby, you got it all wrong baby* Idk when this turned from Alec feeling self conscious to Thirsting Over Alec Lightwood-Bane but I’m here for it. Seriously. My mom is in front of me. She thinks and doing homework. And I’m just trying to keep a straight face (so hard) This is not working. I’m about to scream😂😂

2I can’t understand how you could look at yourself and not see what I see.”

“They stared at the picture on Max’s wall. The picture of Max and Rafael grinning ear to ear when they had visited Peru to piss Magnus off.” THOSE LIL SHITS!

tiEvery me they call each other baby my skin clears and i have three more years of life

“No,” Magnus managed a smile. “Sometimes things are just sad. So, you need to let yourself be sad.” 💙💙

“It’s Max!” Alec said. “We have to hide!" “Hide? This is our home!” (OH BOY😂😂)

I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAVE THE SCENE!! “When I die, I will love you from my grave,” David said now. “I will love you from heaven.” WHY DO THEY ALL SPEAK POETRY?

Don’t let him go, Magnus whispered to Max inside his heart. Don’t ever let him get away.” MAVID IS JUST SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!

“He wondered how strong a person must be to not give up on guardian angels and the idea of heaven after being dragged through hell by his demon of a father.” My boy is strong af

“I don’t believe in angels or heaven,” Alec said then. “But I feel blessed to be loved by you too.” Magnus smiled against Alec’s neck. “Stop stealing David’s dialogues.”💙💙 I have said this to much but I love them

“For the rest of the night, they danced and laughed and drank and smiled. Of course, there was the sadness of time hanging over their heads. But they ignored it. They focused on the love in front of them.” These lines are just amazing

“And sorry,” David said quickly. “I apologize if I said something out of turn before. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble-” BOY COULD YOU STOP BEING PERFECT??

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it matters who you brought the necklace for,” David said, his blue eyes on Magnus. “Everything you do is out of love, Mr. Lightwood-Bane. And I think that’s beautiful.” EVEN MAGNUS STAY SPEECHLESS!!

“That’s not what I meant,” Jace shook his head. “David and Max. A shadowhunter and a warlock. They are together. They are happy. That’s cause of you, Alec. You and Magnus did that.” Magnus smiled at this husband. “Listen to your parabatai. He gets wise so very rarely.” YES THEY DID. I’M SO FUCKING PROUD!

“But he did it now. For Alec. Because Alexander Lightwood always has been and always will be his only exception.” The Malec feelings I’m getting from this are to much

“Magnus smiled. “How do I look?” “Immaculate,” Alec whispered. In the mirror, Magnus could see himself. His dark hair was woven with strands of gray. He had wrinkles on his face, just around the eyes. When Magnus smiled, his eyes crinkled.” OMG OMG!! I’M CRYING

“Magnus took Alec’s hand in his and put it over his heart. “Promise me you will stop smoking.” THANK YOU MAGNUS. LITERALLY THANK YOU!!

“I don’t care how they look at me. I care how you look at me," Alec smiled softly. "Because I only ever look back at you, Magnus.” Alec says these things like they aren’t worth a museum

I would never tell you what to do with your body, Alexander. But-” “Well, you tell me sometimes,” Alec snickered against his mouth. “Stop making jokes to avoid serious conversations,” Magnus slapped his husband on the arm. “That’s my thing.”😂😂

“Magnus stayed awake that night. He stayed awake and told his brain to cherish every single memory from tonight. That’s how Magnus spent every night. He would stay awake and ask his mind to remember.” THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE I ACTUALLY FORGET ITS NOT CANON

“And then he dreamt.In his dream, he saw them again. But they weren’t smiling this time.” :) Seriously?? SERIOUSLY? I’M SO DONE, YET I’M STILL HERE??

Ugh this was so beautiful i just can- I closed Tumblr so I didn’t get spoiled 😂 Amazing as always and I’m just going to have Malec feels for the rest of the day.

P.s. I was listening to One Last Time by LP and got even more emo 💙💙

This whole thing me so emo wtf 😭😭😭

I love your reactions so much 🥺🥺🥺

Also you reading fanfiction minutes before the exam is such a big dick move istg never change bro 😎

#lbaf

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franeridart · 4 years ago

Text

Anon said: Would you draw SukuFushi? (Sukuna x Fushiguro)

maybe? *thinking face* if I ever got an idea for it, why not. I find sukuna’s obsession with fushiguro entertaining so I don’t count fanarts for it as impossible haha

Anon said: I looked and I couldn't find if you've answered this already, so apologies if you did, but how do you draw your faces? I always struggle with face shape and yours are always super good with really expressive features! Anyway, thanks so much I love your art <3

HMMMMMMMM how do I do that indeed, the basics are honestly what you’d find on any basic tutorial about drawing a face (circle, cross in the middle of it, build the face around that - I really still can’t avoid that step and probably never will). As for the expressions, to be honest with you my way of going about them is thinking them up in emoji/kaomoji form first and then go from there. Emojis and kaomojis have to simplify expressions to the max since it’s such a simple format, right? But they’re still super expressive and convey exactly what they’re trying to say with one single glance, so using them as some kind of reference sheet has helped me a lot in figuring out what’s essential to express what I’m trying to say - still working on it though! I’m rarely satisfied with my expressions, they really do make or break a drawing don’t they............ you never stop learning, I guess!

Anon said: Ahhhhhhh I just spent like hrs scrolling thru ur oc tag and they’re all amazing I love them so much but I keep confusing the everloving SHIT out of myself cuz I too have a child who is Leo and he’s literally so different from ur Leo lol. Anyway tho ur art is amazing and it honestly just makes me so happy so ty and hope have a good day!!

OHHHHHHHHHHHH MY LEO! It’d been forever since I’ve last drawn him, I kind of miss him............... glad you like my stuff, by the way! Especially about you liking my ocs, that means the world to me!

Anon said: hi there !!! i was wondering if i had ur permission to ur ur itafushi art in one of my edits ! i wanted to be sure before using it <3 total respect if its a no !! thankyouuuu

Sorry but I’d prefer if you didn’t do that!

Anon said:THERES A OCTOPATH TRAVELER LIGHT NOVEL AND ITS SO COOL BUT ITS ONLY IN JAPANEESE ! ;^;There's four stories with centered around pairs of characters and alfion is one of them !Idk if itll be transleted but i hope itll be cuz it sound awesome

OH I KNOW!!!!!!! I saw the art for the alfion one a while back, it looks so soft!!!! ;;;;; 8path is kinda niche as a game though, so who knows.............. let’s cross our fingers!!

Anon said: hello, i am here to recc Skeletons by New Years Day because i think it might fit a few of your ships<3

Thanks anon now I’m emo ;;;;;

Anon said: bakubro gives the best hugs. kirishima is the only one who knows this. everyone is absolutely incredulous when the question "who gives the best hugs" goes around and kirishima answers bakugo. (bakugo thinks kirishima is the best but he benefits from kirishima bodily hugging him and he's biased)

Definitely!! He’s strong and warm after all, bet hugging him would feel the best.... the only one who shall ever know is kiri though, as I bet his hugs are only that nice when he really likes the person he’s hugging hahaha

Anon said: Hi! Just wanted to say that I absolutely love your JJK art! The colors and style are absolutely stunning.

Thank you so much!!!!!!! I feel like I’m mostly drawing for myself lately ngl hahaha so knowing you like it means a lot!!

Anon said: Hi!! This isn't a request I just really like your art! I found you from Pinterest on a kiribaku thing you drew! Your art is so cool! I wish I could draw like that!!! I'll keep looking for new art you've made :D

Aw pinterest.......................... glad you could find your way back here though!! And thank you!!

Anon said: This happened a while ago, but i wanted to say it anyway. I remember when I started watching jujutsu kaisen and I was looking for content arter finishing the first 10 episodes in less than a day and I found your first jujutsu kaisen post (it was posted that dame day) and i was like ???? One of my favorite artists got into jk at the same time than me!!! I just thought it was a neat coincedence to share! I really love your art too, you're amazing!! Happy New Year!!

It’s!!!!!!!!!!!! a pretty dang neat coincidence for me too, since it’s always nice to know at least some of my followers are still into the stuff I make hahahaha

Anon said: i think a lot abt ur art and how ive been seeing u since middle school and now im graduating highschool and we're still in the same fandoms, i hope this doesnt make u feel old but rather VERY cherished qwq

No anon this makes me feel amazing you’ve been around so long!!!!!!! I can’t believe you’re still here with my thank you so much for that!!!!!! I think I’m gonna cry a little here.......... ;;;

Anon said: Hi! I love your art so much!! 🥰 Have you read a KiriBaku fic called The Pit??

Probably not, haven’t been reading krbk fics in a while by now! I’ll add it to my for-later list, thank you so much for the rec!!

Anon said: can u believe that (sans sero) the entire bakusquad can be put into some form of punk/goth fashion? the realization was a galaxy brain moment for me. also realizing that tokoyami, kirishima, and tamaki are all varying levels of goth/emo (some more concerning than others)

Sero’s the hippie friend every punk friend group needs, he balances things out and that’s why he’s very cherished and necessary!!!!

Anon said: your bakugo drawings convinced me to finally start stretching my ears and tbh i'm extremely excited (i've had off and on thoughts of stretching my ears (again) before this so it's not as impulsive as it sounds haha)

Anon that’s so cool!!!!!!! I love gauges so much.....................glad I could give you the last push for it!!

Anon said: uhhhh, i love the style of that top left goge drawing dude!!

THANK YOU I LOVE DRAWING IN THAT STYLE THIS ASK MEANS THE UNIVERSE TO ME

Anon said: i sent the dragon!kiri and bakugo tug-of-waring over a piece of meat and honestly your response is exactly what i thought

Great minds!!!!!!! hahaha

#fran answers #*posts this pretending most of these asks aren't over a month old*#whassup

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starlypenguins · 4 years ago

Text

And then we reached the final day

Honestly going into this, I was pretty scared considering this is the first time I’ve ever participated in anything like this, but now that it’s the last day I realize how stupid that fear was

This was honestly the most fun I’ve had participating in something, probably because it’s ibvs week and if it wasn’t for ibvs I wouldn’t have all the amazing friends I have now

So I now present to you my second favourite piece of writing that I did for this week

Ibvs week day 7: Dress up

Ibvs belongs to @onebizarrekai

---

“Drew remind me why you thought this was a good idea,” Nevin said.

Currently he was wearing Drew’s clothes. For some reason, the boy had wanted them to dress up as each other for the day in hopes of confusing everyone.

“Because it’s fun!” Drew said, trying to make his hair look like Nevins. “Besides, I want to see if anyone can tell that we switched.”

“Everyone will be able to tell,” Nevin said. “Also you are doing the hair thing totally wrong.”

“It’s not my fault you constantly need to make your hair look all special!” Drew said, a little annoyed with how his brother constantly styled his hair. “Seriously why can’t you just embrace the floof?”

“Because it's annoying,” Nevin answered. “I don’t get how you expect me to survive like this all day.”

“Oh come on it won’t be that bad,” Drew said, turning his attention back to his hair.

“Says the person who’s been complaining about how I style my hair,” Nevin said.

“That’s because it’s impossible to perfect!” Drew said, putting the straightener down. “Also can you please style it for me, I give up.”

“Fine, we’re going to be late for school if I let you do it anyways,” Nevin said, walking over to Drew and grabbing the straightener.

“Thanks.”

---

Edward was confused to say the least. He could’ve sworn the emo kid had shrunk by like, an inch.

He also noticed that the sunshine boy was acting all negative.

Of course the reasonable thing in this situation would’ve been to talk to the twins, but this was Edward, so instead he was watching them from a distance.

“So have you finally moved on from stalking me and have turned to the twins?” A voice said from behind Edward, almost making him jump.

He turned around to see Isaac staring at him.

“I’m not stalking them, they’re just acting different!” Edward said defensively. “Also I was never stalking you!”

“Whatever makes you feel better about being weird,” Isaac said, earning himself a glare from Edward. “Anyways what do you mean, those two have been acting normal all day.”

“Have you seriously not noticed?” Edward asked. Isaac shook his head in response.

“The Nightmare kid shrank! And he’s been acting all positive!” he pointed out. “Not to mention sunshine boy has been really angry.”

“Okay I can’t tell if you don’t know them well enough or you’re just really stupid,” Isaac said. “Actually, it’s probably both.”

“Well if you know so much why don’t you explain what’s going on,” Edward said, getting annoyed with the artist.

“They switched outfits idiot, they’re just dressing up as each other to confuse everyone,” Isaac explained.

Edward looked back over at the twins and examined them a bit more.

“Huh you’re right,” he said as Isaac resisted the urge to facepalm. “Wait but how did you know?”

“I talked to Drew earlier,” Isaac answered. “Also those two are terrible at acting like each other.”

“Okay you have a point there,” Edward said.

“Exactly, now stop being weird and go bother someone else,” Isaac said, walking off.

“I’m not being weird!” Edward said to him, but Isaac was already gone.

---

“Hey Chris.”

Chris looked up to see Drew standing in front of him.

“Oh uh, hi,” Chris said, confused as to why Drew was there, but didn’t question it.

Little did he know, it was actually Nevin.

“You know, I’m ready for this day to be over already,” Nevin said.

“Well someone’s in a bad mood,” Chris said.

“Well Drew had this idea of us dressing up as each other and now I’m stuck wearing this all day!” Nevin complained,

“Oh, that doesn’t sound fun for you,” Chris said, laughing nervously.

Nevin looked up at Chris and laughed.

“Dude did you actually think I was Drew?” he asked.

“You guys look really similar okay!” Chris said.

“You know I really thought you would be able to tell the difference between us,” Nevin said.

“Sorry,” Chris said, looking down again. This was pretty embarrassing for him to say the least.

“Eh it’s fine, if it makes you feel better only one person has been able to tell the difference today,” Nevin said.

“Wait seriously?” Chris asked, a little surprised about that.

“Yeah, it was Isaac,” Nevin answered. “But hey, we managed to confuse Quinton, so that makes this a tiny bit better.”

“So you’re doing this all day?” Chris asked, getting a nod from Nevin in response.

“Yeah, but the moment we get home I am getting my hands on a hair straightener,” he said.

“Why do you hate your fluffy hair so much?” Chris asked. “I mean it looks nice so I don’t get why you wouldn’t like it.”

“Because it’s annoying, it gets all over the place and then my hair looks like a birds nest,” Nevin explained.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad!” Chris said.

“Oh it is,” Nevin said.

“Why did you even agree to this anyways?” Chris asked.

“I didn’t do it willingly, if I hadn’t let Drew pull off this plan then he wouldn’t stop bothering me about it,” Nevin answered.

“Ah, well you’ll make it through the day,” Chris said reassuringly. “Hopefully.”

“Yeah, worst case scenario I sneak out of school and switch back to my normal outfit,” Nevin said.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t do that,” Chris said. “Anyways I have to get to class, so I’ll see you at lunch!”

“Alright, bye Chris,” Nevin said as Chris ran off to class.

He let out a sigh and walked off as well. Today was going to be a long day.

#ibvsweek2021 #ibvs #drew jovel #nevin jovel #isaac beamer #edward quinton #chris jackson #once again we have everyone except barry-#I would put this under a cut due to how long this is #but tumblr mobile will not allow me to #honestly this week went by faster then I thought it would #it also made me forget to do ibvstopia-#but we don’t talk about that #this one was originally intended to be a short fic #but then fast forward to 45 minutes later and we ended up with a 900 word fic

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redxblueihateloveyou · 3 years ago

Note

1/2 "Explore the fuck was that" Xiaoge is not Xiaoge and talking is not the problem here. It's literally everything thats the problem. Also like you I've also read all the books, but failed to put into words why Xiao Yu Liang's and Huang Jun Jie's Qilings didn't give me any divergence from the original character despite the changes, while others did and pretty drastically. I thought it was a bit irrational on my part, but you just sorted it all out so effortlessly I'm a bit jealous

Lol I said the exact same thing, the talking and the phone was not a problem as some say, he has a phone in the book too at some point and talks more than you'd actually think, it's just that literally nothing about him is Zhang Qiling. Literally not one vibe or even tiny feeling. I don't know how that happened honestly.

AAAAAAAAA I saw the smile comments too lmao. I was like who's gonna tell them. Not only he smiles, he's full on laughing in the 2nd book already, when Wu Xie is using his spit as a lotion lmao. And Wu Xie was so happy about, he was like "I saw him smile before, but it was always so bitter and cold, this was the first time he smiled genuinely, he just needs to spend more time with him, we'll get him there" T_T Before that his smiling was legit a bit scary tho, sometimes brash, like when he told him about the stairs and he went "oh really?" haha

I thought about it and I honestly have no idea about the reference point for some people. I think maybe they go from that first adaptation? Maybe they think it's how he is in the book? Idk. It just weirds me out that I feel like some created some their own picture in their head and then judge everything from there throwing "thats ooc" left and right. Like this "Xiao Ge doesn't smile thing". Maybe it's because of the "Poker-face" thing, but do they know that "Men You Ping" doesn't actually mean that, it was just the closest thing you could come up with with english alternative to keep the nickname short (like I doubt it would read well if he kept calling him a bottle xD). Like according to Wu Xie since the very first book, his hubby can't even lie, so he's definitely not a poker face at all. He also gets pissed pretty easily and he likes to fool around sometimes too (like troll Wu Xie and Fatty obviously).

He's also not emo and not the "mysterious hero from some romance", not a stone and not a zooty. I don't know where this all came from tbh.

I can really debate 24/7 about this, but they're 100% Qilings, just slightly changed and softened accordingly to what they'd be like at this point of their relationship, if he did write it in (and I'm like pretty sure I'm right about this). It's the way they behave, how they act in certain situations, how they're with Wu Xie, how they're with other people, the right amount of sass and being done with everything, just the overall picture, the "you're an idiot, but you're my whole world". But also you know, that strange feeling that Wu Xie describes, like "when he's there, everything is suddenly alright" lol (just the magical safety vibe esp in SOP). I literally don't know how ppl who read the whole thing watched them and thought "thats not right". It's the fucking overall feeling of.. yes, i'm watching Zhang Qiling.

Just change the book's impending doom of tragical "you're my whole world, but I can't stay and there's no way for this to work" to "we actually have a future and I want to stay in our home with you" and that's basically Yuliang's and Junjie's versions (one on the way, one fully there by the end). But even if for some reason you can't accept this, I still don't get how some could hate it, cause overall they still have basically everything they need. Unlike others who are way off in my opinion, bc of the weird templates they are.

And about "Explore the fuck was that" (lol I'm gonna use this title from now on) seriously, no offense to this creation and everyone who liked it (no judging here for real, everyone likes what they like), I'm not gonna heavily diss anyone or anything, I don't really care for the thing, just telling the truth. No one who's participated in this thing have a fucking idea about the characters they're playing or writing about.

I mean, as a fan many things that were adapted from books, I already do not care for minor divergence or even bigger once, if it makes sense and you see the care and understanding of the characters, but sadly here it felt like no one cared. Like for example honestly if someone asked me what would you choose "watching wu xie and xiao ge but not 100% sticking to the plot" or "loosely watching the plot, but it's not wu xie and xiao ge", I'm gonna pick the first option.

And some will say that's it's only the writers/directors mistakes for not explaining or guiding actors etc, but to be honest it's not completely true, bc as we know many actors if they really care before taking on the role actually try to do a research about the character and read the material to understand what they're playing. Especially if it's such iconic characters of a franchise Сhina's been going crazy over for like a decade.

Like how the hell happened that Zhu Yilong for example while playing embodied all the Wu Xie's traits througout the whole book series from behaving exactly like young Wu Xie did in certain needed parts to going to the cold, strategic and rational old self in others, I mean, they could've just go with the "Restart" one, where not much happens and he could've played just that. But literally each time he did something, I was like "yeah, that's my boo". And that wasn't the part of this exact book, it was part of Wu Xie. Like the way he behaved, acted in some previous situations that you know its him. That's happening only when the actor knows who he's portraying.

Or Yuliang knowing and loving and feeling the character he plays, because he wanted to know and cared.

It's just strange to me, bc if they're not making it for the fans, then for whom do they even make it? For themselves? It's really stupid no matter how you look at it. Like your success depends on it, so what's the point in sinking your own ship I will never get.

I also do not get how could they just fail literally everything. Like casting was a miss already, but good acting and chemistry and putting character's soul in it could've make it great still, but they have literally none of anything, it's just fascinating to me. I just don't think I ever seen something like that, it's kinda funny.

But this is like once again just my opinion. Like everyone is free to think what they think, but maybe just stop yelling "OOC" without knowing the original character, cause maybe it's not really OOC. Like book Xiao Ge is not exactly what many ppl claim him to be really.

#answered #anonymous #zhang qiling #daomu biji #dmbj #lost tomb #wu xie #explore what the fuck was that lmfaaaao #pingxie #ultimate note #heavenly palace #explore with the note #lost tomb reboot

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peppersonironi · 4 years ago

Text

Duke Thomas/The Signal Fic Recs

This is for @capttain-emo who saw me reblog this wonderful rec list by @stories-from-the-batcave , and asked if I knew any more. (I highly recommend those, btw, I love all the fics on that list! Yes, that includes the one I wrote in there) Duke Thomas is my favorite Batfam member, so I have a bunch! Unfortunately, there isn’t as much Duke content out there as I’d hope - people just don’t seem to like him as much for some reason? It’s sad. So, there are gonna be a couple here written by me. Rest assured, I have way more Duke content on the way - including a WIP coming out this week! (Ao3 linked out at the top of my blog)

I love recommending Fics, so hit me up in my inbox if there’s a trope or character or relationship (platonic or not) that you’d really love to read! I also write fan fiction, and my requests are always open!

1. Siblings: The Truth of the Matter by Me!

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & his siblings

Duke had a strange family. Two of his siblings had been raised from birth to be assassins. One was born in a circus. One had been a crime lord for a time. Yet another was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company by the age of seventeen. All of them dressed up in spandex every night to punch bad guys.

So when he was woken up by icy water being splashed in his face, tied to a chair in nothing but his boxers, he wasn't surprised. Now, that's not to say he wasn't worried. Duke was definitely worried. Especially since it was these two.

AKA Duke gets tied up and questioned by his siblings, all while drugged with Truth Serum!

2. Bliss by Me!

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Damian

Duke walks in on a sleeping assassin child in need of comfort, and takes a chance. Brotherly bonding ensues!

3. An ever growing family of birds and bats by alicecrow6

Rating: General Audiences/Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Damian

a series of Batkids Age Reversal fics where Damian comes first, then Harper, then Duke and so on.

4. look at me, all the things I can do by Aelig

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Cass, Duke & Bruce

"Duke took a bite of his toast, gaze still on Bruce. His foster father was sipping at his coffee, eyebrows frowning. To an outsider, you would think he was reading the morning news on his tablet, like always; Duke knew better. Bruce's look was a little away from the screen, his lips downward.

It was almost funny, to watch Bruce internally panic."

OR: It's the morning, and Duke is going back to school for the first time since his injury.

5. The Batchair(s) Issue by NightFlier

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen w/ background ships Relationships: Duke & Cass, Duke & Steph, Steph/Cass Trio & Batfam

Duke Thomas feels like an outsider, and not just because he's part of the new Outsiders team roster. He's the newest member of the legendary Batclan and hasn't yet formed the close bonds that the others share. Not to mention, he's the only active Meta on the team. As if it wasn't hard enough to relate with people with such colorful, unique backgrounds.

But it's okay! Duke has a plan and it'll probably work for a while before crashing & burning. BatShenanigans ahead.

6. All That Glitters is Gold (Unfortunately) by IndefiniteIceCube

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Tim, Duke & Steph

The world is gold and Duke can't breathe.

He can't breathe.

He was sitting in AP World History just a minute ago.

Was it a minute ago? It seemed like a minute ago but it could have been hours because all he can focus on is that he can’t breathe. His lungs won’t fill and- and he’s trying he swears but he just. can’t. breathe.

And the gold—

-----

Duke's powers emerge.

It doesn't go well.

7. Be the Light that Helps Others See by Ace_Corvid @ace-corvid

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam

Duke didn't really know what to expect from movie nights with the Bats.

He could only assume they approached this with the same determined intensity as they approached everything else. They were all so extra it was like their gauge for normal was completely broke. He wasn't really prepared for this.

And yet here he was. Surrounded.

(Alternatively; Batkid's have a movie night.)

8. I've Made a Million Mistakes by Sohotthateveryonedied

“Y’all need Jethuth.”

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam

“Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.”

“I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.”

“Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.”

“Y’all need Jethuth.”

9. Children (All of Them) by TheFalconWarrior

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam

In which Tim is not stupid but Jason might just be, Damian is furious, Dick kind of feels like he should be doing…something, Steph is ecstatic, and Duke wonders how long he can survive.

10. In the Dark of the Night by Aelig

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Jason, Batfam

"Duke was woken up by someone sliding into his bed. Someone big judging by how the mattress shifted.

Because Duke was a well-trained vigilante, his first reflex was obviously to kick whoever was being creepy right now and push them out of his bed.

It was only when the someone landed on the floor with a yelp that Duke realized that he was at Wayne Manor, which was incredibly secure – normally. He could recognize the voice, too."

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: none

OR: The Batfam and their way to deal with nightmares.

11. Welcome to the Family by angstyelephant

In which Duke Thomas goes back to the beginning.

12. Family-- by incorrectbatfam

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & batfam

“Your assignment over the weekend is to write a poem about your family.”

13. I'm Still Climbing(Even When the Rest Have Fallen) by anidear

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Dick, Duke & Damian

After his first exposure to the Fear Toxin, Dick checks in on Duke.

14. The cat and the newcomer by Fleur_de_Violette

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Alfred the Cat

Duke always found people talking to their pets about their problems silly. And yet here he was.

15. Duke-napped by NightOwl1600

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Bruce, Duke & batfam

The others don’t really bother Duke with his business. They all care about him, he knows, but outside of the vigilante business, they don’t really care to ask aside from the typical “How was school?” or “Can you buy me some chilidogs after you’re done with whatever you’re doing?” So he’s a bit concerned if they’ll even notice when he’s been kidnapped as Duke Thomas, Bruce Wayne’s newest ward. But he’s not about to panic; as the others seem to be so determined that traumatizing new experiences are part of Bat-initiation.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family freaks out because “Did anyone go over the do’s and don’ts of getting kidnapped with Duke?!”

16. Nightmare/Hallucination by FearfulKitten @fearfulkittenwrites

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Jason

Duke found himself staring at the ceiling again. His heart was no longer racing, but he wouldn’t exactly say that he was calm either. This is the moment after the end of a race you lost, when all of the adrenaline is starting to wear off and the hopelessness sets in. That’s it. You’re out of the competition, buddy.

Except that this isn’t a race, and Duke hasn’t just lost his spot for the finals. He had simply lost sleep.

17. Jason Todd, Big Brother Part 8792 by Gemini_00

Rating: General Audiences Category: Other Relationships: Duke & Jason, Duke & Damian

Robin and the Signal sneak along the Outlaws mission in order to steal a bazooka and hang out with Kori. Jason has to deal with two little brothers and feeding a team of outlaws. He's putting this on Bruce's credit

18. "What's wrong? What's happening?" By FearfulKitten @fearfulkittenwrites

Rating: General Audiences Category: Other Relationships: Duke & Tim

Duke runs into trouble during his daytime patrol, and ends up needing some back up. The resident over-productive insomniac bat picks up the call.

(A little bit of and Duke interaction for a nice tumblr Anon :) I hope you like it!)

19. Nightmares by FearfulKitten @fearfulkittenwrites

Rating: Teen Category: Other Relationships: Duke & Dick

Filling the nightmare square on my bingo card with the help of an anon on tumblr who asked for a fic where Duke has a nightmare and asks for the help of one of the older batboys!

"Duke checked the time again. Two minutes had passed.

Time was ticking too slowly. He was tired, but sitting alone in the dark was definitely not a good idea right now.

He’d have to ask for help."

20. Brothers in Arms by TheFalconWarrior

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam

...possibly against each other. Batkid prank wars are the worst.

Duke is learning. Tim is evil. So is Damian. Dick is embarrassing. Jason is dramatic. Steph is brave. Babs is all-knowing. Cass wants in. Alfred is a little amused, and Bruce is so. Tired.

21. First rule of Robin, right? By ALzzza

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Damian,Duke & Dick

"Nothing’s going to hurt you—you got that, nothing.”

Duke doesn’t have anything better to do but it’s not like that matters. Hell, he’d drop everything and run—always in time to catch this little bird.

Or, Damian’s Been Having Nightmares, Duke To The Rescue—Dick Always With The Reassurance

22. Duke's Diary by fiery_day

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam,Duke & Dick

This is a couple of journal entries by Duke as he learns to become Signal. He relates his thoughts on the batfamily and aspects of the vigilante life he now leads.

23. Significance of a Gala by nxttime

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Batfam,Duke & Jason, Duke & Tim

This year’s Wayne Gala would be Duke’s first, and he had no clue how to feel about it.

25. The cloud that looks after each other by Batmango

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Bruce, Duke & Goliath

Duke wakes up the Bat cave after a fight with the Joker.

For MashpotatoeQueen5 as a thanks for using so many of my prompt in the excellent January Jot-Downs.

Prompt: a hurt comfort after an injury/illness? Or just cuddles. I love me some cuddles.

26. The One You’ll Know By by Redrikki

Rating: Teen Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Bruce, Bruce & Alfred

After losing his memory, Bruce asked Alfred not to tell him about his vigilante life, but he's beginning to think his butler left a few other things out. Like, say, his kids.

27. Duke Thomas Hates Bullies by Gemini_00

Rating: Unrated Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Steph, Duke & Tim, Duke & Bruce, Duke & Damian

Everyone loves that Duke Thomas isn't like all those other crazy Waynes. Everyone loves that the Signal isn't trying to get himself killed. Duke may not see Bruce as his dad, but he is definitely part of the bat family. and nobody is going to bully his family. Or, Duke Thomas Kicks Ass.

28. batman is dancing to fortnight and this might as well happen because vigilante life is already so *Goddamn* weird (Duke Thomas: A Memoir) by MashpotatoeQueen5

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Bruce, Duke & Batfam

You may not have time to unpack all that, but Duke Thomas does.

(He doesn't get it either.)

(He loves his new crazy family nonetheless.)

29. In a World Where You Can Be Anything, Be Kind by RedHoodie1723

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Bruce, Duke & Batfam

Day Six of Batfam Week 2020: Take Your Child To Work Day

It was Duke's first time visiting Wayne Enterprises, and he couldn't help but be intrigued by the Martha Wayne Foundation.

30. You’re My Brother by blackpercy

Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Relationships: Duke & Dick

Duke's missing his parents a lot and Dick comes in to help his little brother.

And that’s it for the list! I hope you enjoy these thirty works! Once again, send me an ask if you have requests for fics, recs, or if you have general questions!

#duke thomas #the signal #batfam #duke fic recs #batfam fic recs #fanfiction recs #dc comics #batman comics #fanfiction #request

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

For Forever (2/2)

read on ao3

***

When Max had walked into the sheriff’s station to find Michael behind a cell, Michael had fully expected the resigned sigh.

“Seriously?” he asked. “I thought you were done with this.”

“Long got in my way.”

Max faltered. “Michael, tell me you didn’t actually throw Forrest into a window.”

Michael’s eye twitched at the idea, and the corner of his lips tugged upward in a smirk. “No,” he said, and Max’s shoulders slumped. “No, but his cousin is just as much fun to toss over a pool table.”

Max leaned against a desk, his arms crossed. A moment of silence, then, “You want to talk about it?”

“I was having a drink and he bumped into me,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Not much to talk about.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Max said quietly.

Michael’s smirk turned smaller. He knew exactly what his brother meant. Didn’t mean he had to answer.

“You look worse than yesterday, did you see Alex or something?”

Michael’s heart gave a traitorous thump in his chest at the mere mention of Alex’s name. “Saw him. We chatted.”

Max looked concerned. “About what?”

“Why does it matter?”

Max leveled him with his dark eyes. “About what, Michael?”

Michael swallowed, and sniffed, looking away. It seemed different now, talking to Max. Ever since he’d almost lost him, he realized how badly he’d needed him. He was good at that; being the genius when it was too late for it to matter anymore.

“He ended things.”

Max’s brows pinched together. “I – I’m confused, doesn’t that happen a lot between you guys? Just go see him again and tell him –”

“No,” Michael said, more edge in his voice than he’d intended. He dialed it back. “No. He ended everything. Says he can’t trust me after Maria, says he knows he’s just my – my backup, and he’s fine with it! He’s happy, even! Relieved!Isn’t that great? Now there’s nothing holding him back from following Forrest to New York or Europe, or wherever gay emo poets go to be at one with the earth or whatever.”

Max said nothing for a moment. Then, “So he’s just done.”

Michael nodded once, a lump in his throat. “He’s just done.”

Max tilted his head. “Are you?”

“What?”

He stood. “Alex always fought like hell for you, even when you didn’t deserve it.”

“I get it, okay?” Michael said through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I’m no good for him. He’s better off without me.”

“No,” Max said fiercely, coming up to the bars. “Not even close, brother. You broke Alex’s heart, you have to fix it. He’s done his fighting, now it’s your turn.”

Michael shook his head. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“He thinks he’s your second choice, right?” Max said. “That’s what he doesn’t want. Look –” he crouched down so that he and Michael, who was slumped against the bench, were on the same eye level. “You love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Michael said without hesitation. Max chuckled, like the answer was obvious.

“Then show him,” he said. “Tell him every minute. Don’t let Forrest take him away from you.”

Michael swallowed, and tried for a light tone that he didn’t feel, “You’re saying I shouldthrow him out the window?”

Max sighed, raising a brow at him. “Did Wyatt Long even hit you?”

“Sure,” Michael grinned. “Rednecks really don’t like it when you imply they’re sleeping with their tractor buddies.”

Michael felt ridiculous. Max had bailed him out of his cell no more than two hours ago, and he was sure that this bordered on stalking and would land him back in one. He couldn’t help it.

He’d just barely gone back to his trailer to get a quick shower, and he’d gotten a text from Isobel. She must have spoken to Max, because the whole message had consisted of a single picture of Alex’s profile as he leaned against the counter at the Crashdown, clearly unaware his photo was being taken, and the words; This is your chance, he’s alone.

Michael had never driven so dangerously. He’d parked in front of the diner, and paused. He thought he’d imagined it in the picture Isobel had sent, but it had been clear to him, even through the glass, that Alex was tired.

He was leaning too heavily on his left leg, as if just touching the ground with his other side pained him. His fingers were rubbing into his thigh, and his smile was tight until he sat down, his eyes fluttering with no small amount of relief.

Michael couldn’t find it in him to go inside, watching Alex carefully from the outside, considering the way he seemed too tired to even eat. Michael wondered if he would be welcome to sit beside Alex now, to hold him and take care of him like he wanted to.

Then a hand tapped his shoulder, and he looked over his shoulder to find a very unimpressed Isobel.

“Are you kidding me?” she greeted. “He is ten feet away from you, just go up to him.”

Michael swatted at her peering over his shoulder like she was a fly. “You don’t get it,” he told her, returning his gaze to Alex. “Something’s wrong with him.”

She flicked his ear.

“Ow, Isobel!”

“Then go ask him!” she demanded. “Be his knight in shining armor!”

“I can’t just ask –”

“Would you have done it if it was DeLuca?” she said, and Michael felt as if she’d just shot him.

“That’s different,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s –”

“Yeah, I know,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Lower stakes. Thing is, little brother –”

“We’re all the same age,” Michael said.

“—The higher the stakes, the more you have to risk,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Do you want him back or not?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Don’t ask me that. You know what the answer is.”

Isobel’s eyes softened. “Then go get him. While you still have him alone. Or do you plan to wait until Forrest shows up and does your job?”

Michael swallowed and looked back at Alex. He had his cheek rested on his palm, his brows pinched as if uncomfortable. Michael tilted his hat down and exhaled slowly as he forced one foot in front of the other.

He didn’t check to see Isobel’s reaction as he opened the diner door and stood a moment, staring at Alex in his booth, seemingly completely inattentive to whoever had just walked in. When Michael sat down across from him, he realized why.

“Took you long enough,” Alex said first. “I thought you would spend the rest of the day watching me from behind your truck.”

Michael ducked his head, his tongue in his cheek. “So you knew. Of course you knew. There’s usually not much you don’t.”

Alex slumped further down in his seat, rubbing his eyes as his milkshake sat untouched. “Not today, Guerin, okay? I get it, you’re very macho, you don’t need anybody, good for you. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

Michael’s smirk turned pursed. Was this really what Alex thought he would say? Some line about how much better off he was now that they weren’t together? Had he expected Michael to give up on them this quickly? The thought almost broke Michael’s heart.

“Does it hurt?” he asked instead of all of that. “Your leg.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Michael scoffed, his smirk bitter. “But you’ll tell Long, right?”

“Forrest is signing some papers at the hospital,” Alex said coldly, “because apparently, someone put Wyatt in a neck brace.”

“Damn,” Michael didn’t back down under Alex’s glare. “Was that all? I could’ve sworn I broke a rib or two.”

Alex leaned forward. “You didn’t have to start something with him, Guerin. I don’t like Wyatt Long any more than you do, but you walked into that fight.”

Michael huffed a hollow chuckle. “Yeah? That what you think?”

“No,” Alex said angrily, all pretense of indifference gone. “What I think is that you are just upset that you want something you can’t have. If I wasn’t with Forrest, the only injury his cousin would be suffering right now would be a hangover.”

“So you care this much about Wyatt Long?”

“I don’t give a crap about Wyatt, I care about you!” he snapped, and Michael fell silent, his smirk fallen away.

Some people had looked over, and Alex ran a trembling hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his words were quiet, all the frustration and fury and fear evident in the way even his voice shook. “You were so pissed off that I wanted someone else that you went and picked a fight with the town nutjob!” He shook his head. “Is that what it’ll take to keep you safe now? Stay with you until you get tired of me?”

Michael flinched. “Don’t – don’t say that –”

“Why not?” he demanded. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? You only want me around when I keep my mouth shut, when nothing is serious. As soon as I try to get close to you, you go running off to someone else. That’s what you want to force me into?”

“You love me,” Michael said, finding his voice. “If I never know anything else, I’ll always know that. You love me, Alex, and I love you, and we’re supposed to be together.”

“I already told you,” Alex said through grit teeth. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

He pushed himself up and out of the booth. Michael’s hands curled to fists, and Alex got as far as the counter before Michael was out of his seat.

He turned Alex around by the arm and pinned him against the counter, startling both Alex and a waitress.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’ve always been mine.” He raised a hand, gently tracing Alex’s jaw with his fingers, following raptly with his eyes. Alex’s weight, Michael made sure, wasn’t on his bad leg.

“Ever since we were seventeen,” he murmured. “In the decade that came after that. And in the next decade, and the next one, you’re mine, Alex. So you want to date Forrest Long? Go right ahead. Because I’m coming back for you, Private, and I’m going to spend every waking second making up for my stupid mistake. I can’t be you. I can’t be the knight in shining armor you were. I can’t pretend I’m not so in love with you that it feels like it’ll kill me, and I’m sorry I can’t do it, baby. I wish I was as strong as you, but I’m not.”

Alex searched Michael’s face with wide, glassy eyes. “I –”

Michael leaned in, doing what he’d needed to do since the gala, and pressed his nose to Alex’s soft hair, breathing him in. When he spoke, his lips brushed the shell of Alex’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp that had Michael tightening his grip on Alex’s waist until there was no space between their bodies at all.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”

He leaned back, his heart feeling like it was racing a million miles a second as he cupped Alex’s jaw and brushed his cheek with his thumb. He pressed their foreheads together, and took one last deep breath that he knew would have to last him until the next time they saw each other.

“Go home,” Michael murmured into the space between their lips. “Take the prosthetic off and get some rest.”

He brushed away Alex’s tear and forced himself to let go. Without waiting for Alex’s reaction, Michael turned and left the Crashdown, well aware that there were a few eyes on him, but he couldn’t stop moving. He had to prove what Alex meant to him, what he’d always meant to him. He had work to do.

***

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ahwait-no-yes · 4 years ago

Text

🍬Candy Kingdom🍭

Make sure to look at the designs JJ made! (With some of mine!) It’s under the tag Candy Kingdom!

- 6 -

After basically chasing Ouma around for what felt like hours, he finally caught up to him and managed to slow him down. While Shuichi was struggling to breathe properly, Kokichi kept going on about how he could keep running for hours on end without getting tired. Though, he ended up helping him breathe properly once he realized he was still wheezing.

“Saihara-chan, you okay now?” He asked, his voice softer than usual. Shuichi nodded, glancing at the other boy. “Good!” Kokichi jumped up and grabbed his hand. “Well c'mon! We can’t sit here all day!” He grinned again, squeezing his hand a little too tightly.

“Just,” he paused, taking a few deep breaths, “No more running around, okay?” Shuichi asked warily, squeezing back without a second thought.

Kokichi pouted, gently kicking Saihara’s ankle. “Why? Are you already tired? Are you Saihara-chan? Huh?” He asked, getting closer to his face.

“Yes, I’m tired. I don’t know how you aren’t,” He murmured, gently pushing him away. Ouma stuck his tongue out at him, letting go of his hand.

“It’s because I spend all my time running away from the guards!”

“Really?” Saihara asked, astonishment seeping into his voice. “Yep! I cause allll sorts of trouble just to inconvenience them!” He chirped, placing a hand on his chest.

“All by yourself?” He tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Kokichi stared at him for a moment before smiling and poking his cheek.

“Welll, I have an organization with 10,000 members! So you can imagine how much help I can get.”

“Is that a lie?“

Kokichi stared at him for a moment before laughing. "Wow! Saihara-chan’s catching on quick!” He chirped, a sly grin on his face. “That’s good,” He murmured, fondly smiling at the other boy. He just giggled and skipped away, leaving Saihara to chase after him again.

Luckily, Kokichi skidded to a stop once he arrived in front of a large shop. Shuichi was still a bit out of breath, though he tried to not show it. He had a feeling the other would tease him about being unathletic. It wasn’t exactly his fault. He would often get in trouble for running in the castle, and after a few lectures he gave up. Though, it did bring up some fond memories of playing tag with his older sister. (And being chased around by her while he screamed in pure fear. He obviously didn’t enjoy it as much as she did, but he was glad he had more memories with her. They didn’t talk as much once they got older, after all.)

Kokichi suddenly yanked him forward and dragged him into the shop. Saihara let the other boy drag him around aimlessly, not knowing where he would go. He was pretty much never allowed outside the grounds of the palace, seeing as his father would always worry he would get hurt or lost. At some point, they let him explore a bit with a guard following him around. He didn’t end up doing much though, he got too nervous around them due to their serious personality and just asked to go back home.

When he stopped day dreaming he noticed Kokichi glanced around him before grabbing something and slipping it into his pocket. After that, he went back to looking around, easily playing it off. After a second, Shuichi whispered to him, “Why’d you do that?” From what he saw, it wasn’t anything valuable. It was just a small bag of some sort of cookies, and it didn’t look too expensive. Ouma could’ve just asked Saihara to buy it for him.

Kokichi just grinned at him and pressed a finger to his lips, obviously telling the other to keep quiet about it. Shuichi just looked away, a nervous smile on his face. He quietly giggled, grabbing his arm and dragging him to another isle. After roaming around for a few minutes, they ended up leaving empty handed. After walking away from the store, he pulled the bag out of his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand, grinning.

“I could’ve bought it for you,” Saihara muttered, a small frown on his face.

“Yeah, but my many subordinates can only eat food that wasn’t paid for! It’s a tragedy, really,” Kokichi had tears in the corners of his eyes and sloppily wiped them away. “I’m sure that’s a lie. Ouma-kun, you shouldn’t do that. You could get into lots of trouble,” He stated. He made sure to be polite but firm, knowing Ouma could easily change the direction of the conversation if he wanted to.

“Jeez, you sound like a guard Saihara-chan,” he rolled his eyes, beginning to twirl a strand of his hair.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Shuichi quietly sighed, gently covering his mouth.

“Well, you don’t need to! I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself, promise!” Kokichi’s voice was playful as usual, but he had a certain edge in his eyes, telling Saihara to drop the topic.

“If you say so,” Shuichi pulled at his sleeve, feeling the tension he created. He was worried that they would continue walking in silence, though his worries quickly diminished when Ouma spoke up again. “Saihara-chan! You should meet more of friends!” He said in lighthearted tone, grinning at him. “Your friends are very..” Shuichi paused for a second, making a few hand gestures. “Unique.”

“Oh? Does Saihara-chan not like my friends?” Kokichi feigned a shocked expression, barely supressing a grin.

“It’s not that! They’re just very different from people I know,” Shuichi nervously laughed and looked away.

“What kind of people are you used to then?” He asked, tilting his head. Saihara paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “They’re very serious and formal.”

He expected the other to question it, but Kokichi just nodded and continued walking. It was quiet except for the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. They were starting to become uncomfortable at this point, he was almost constantly wearing them and was walking around a lot more than usual. He was usually in his room reading detective novels.

It reminded him of his uncle, that was part of the reason he read them so often. He couldn’t remember his face anymore, the last time he saw him was so long ago. He was a detective, and he influenced Shuichi a lot. So much in fact, that he told his parents he wanted to be a detective like him. When they heard that, they swiftly took him away from his uncle, and he hasn’t seen him since.

He doesn’t tell his parents much after that.

“Hey, Saihara-chan, you’re spacing out again,” Kokichi had a small pout on his face. He assumed he had snapped in front of his face, seeing as his hand was directly in front of him.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Shuichi would always have to apologize when he did that at home, so it became a habit at this point.

“It’s okay! I’m used to it by now!” He giggled mischievously, poking Shuichi’s chest.

Before Saihara could even think of a response to that, the other clapped his hands and smiled at him. “Anyhow, we’re gonna go meet up with a few more friends! Then we can do whatever your emo heart desires!” Kokichi chirped, rocking back and forth on his feet. Shuichi decided not to protest and just nodded, causing the other to cheer and drag him somewhere else.

Ouma was holding onto his hand again and was speed walking somewhere. He was swinging their arms back and forth. He was talking about his organization and how he could order them to do anything at the blink of an eye. It went on like this for a few minutes, until he arrived in front of a group of small houses.

Kokichi let go of his hand and started banging his fist on the door. Shuichi was going to say something at first, but decided against it. A string of curses was heard before the door swung open, revealing someone with purple hair that stuck up. (He still wasn’t exactly sure how that worked.)

He looked like he was about to yell at Ouma, but his agitated expression quickly disappeared when he noticed someone was standing beside him. “Hiya Momota-chan! I brought a friend with me this time!” Kokichi grabbed Saihara by his shoulders and gently shook him, earning a confused look from the other boy.

“Hey! Name’s Kaito Momota! Sorry you had to deal with him for a while,” He stated, motioning towards an offended-looking Kokichi. “Don’t act like I’m a pest! It hurts my feelings, you bully!” He started wailing, drawing attention to them all.

“C'mon, you’re causing a scene!” Kaito complained, flicking his forehead. That only caused Ouma to scream and cry even louder.

“Ouma kun, please stop crying,” Shuichi murmured, gently nudging the other boy.

“Finally someone asks nicely. I was gonna pass out from dehydration because of all of those precious tears lost,” He complained, looking at his nails. Kaito just sighed and turned towards Saihara a welcoming smile on his face.

“I never got your name, what was it?”

“Oh! My name’s Shuichi Saihara,” He said sheepishly, feeling a bit embarrassed he had forgotten to say his name.

“It’s nice to meet ya Saihara!” He exclaimed, patting (more like hitting,) Saihara’s back. Kokichi stared at Momota for a second before trying to walk past him. Kaito let him, but not before saying, “You’re supposed to ask before coming inside, dumbass.”

Kaito moved to the side and let Shuichi walk in. He was surprised to see the house was filled with talking people, who he assumed were friends and family. He quickly followed Ouma, not eager on being alone. Kokichi looked over his shoulder and grabbed his arm, grinning at him. He pushed him into the kitchen, which only had a few people in. Ouma tossed Saihara a bag of sweets before grabbing one for himself.

“Isn’t Momota-chan nice? He stocks his pantry full of sweets for me, you know!” Kokichi stated, chewing on a piece of candy. “But that’s a lie. They’re still tasty though,” He giggled to himself. Shuichi just fidgeted with the small bag, moving closer to the other boy. Ouma gently nudged him, tilting his head. “Oh, I’m just not a huge fan of sweets,” Saihara murmured, nervously laughing.

“Really?” Kokichi tilted his head. “Yeah, so you can have it,” He murmured, motioning to the bag of candy. “If you say so!” He chirped, snatching the bag from him and slipping it into his pocket. Saihara chuckled at the other, covering his mouth. Kaito strolled into the kitchen, perking up at the sight of the two boys.

“Hey, Saihara!” He waved at them, an energetic smile on his face. “So, you new around here? Small town, practically know everyone here,” He stated, giving a thumbs up. Before Shuichi could start panicking, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I live pretty far, I just got lost and ended up here,” Kokichi stared at him for a second before grinning. “Yep! I found poor Saihara-chan all alone! If it weren’t for me he’d probably be dead!” He exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand on his chest.

“I’m sure he would’ve been fine without your help Ouma,” Kaito stated, a small frown on his face. “C'mon you dont have to be so mean to me!” He whined, tears in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not being mean!” He exclaimed, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Yes you are! Isn’t he being cruel Saihara-chan?!” Kokichi turned towards Saihara, a small pout on his face.

Shuichi was quiet for a moment, genuinely thinking it over. “Well, I don’t think Momota’s intention was to be rude. Though, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to get out safely without your help,” Kokichi was quiet for a moment before sighing dramatically, deflating.

“I guess. I’m still right though,” He murmured, crossing his arms.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” was all Kaito said, a fond smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know I sleep soundly on a mattress filled with the softest stuff around,” Kokichi stated. Before Momota could even respond to that, he continued, “My organization with over 10,000 members only give me the best!” Kokichi pressed a finger to his lips, a mischievous expression on his face.

“That’s gotta be a lie,” Kaito muttered, looking a bit agitated.

“Maybe you’d know if you were, you know, less stupid.”

“You shouldn’t call people stupid Ouma-kun,” Saihara chided, hearing him whine. Kokichi just pouted and started messing with a colorful bandaid on his finger, seemingly looking bored.

“How come you never listen to me when I tell you that?” Kaito asked, frowning.

“Because I don’t listen to idiots,” Shuichi lightly glared at the other, gently nudging him.

“Stop calling me that! It hurts my feelings, you know!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Kokichi muttered, but not before kicking Momota in the ankle. “I appreciate it,” Kaito said sarcastically, being able to tell he was lying. Still, he ruffled Ouma’s hair, earning a surprised squawk and a slap on the hand. Shuichi quietly giggled, causing Kokichi to half-heartedly glare at him. “The sun’s setting, do you two wanna stay here for the night? I don’t need you two getting in trouble for staying out past curfew.”

“Curfew? What’re you talking about?” Saihara asked, slightly tilting his head. “Yeah, they made that a rule recently because of crime rates or whatever. It sucks, but we don’t really get a say in it,” Kaito sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Usually I would say no, but because Saihara-chan is such a rule follower, I don’t see why not,” Kokichi stated, obviously thinking of when he took that practically worthless bag of cookies.

Shuichi quietly sighed, gently pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re fine with us staying, I’d appreciate it,” Kaito pat his shoulder, a smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it! You can make up for it by training with me tomorrow morning!” Kokichi grinned at Saihara, shaking his arm excitedly. “It’s mostly just some simple work outs. Trust me, it’ll help at some point! Especially if you’re chasing him for whatever reason,” Kaito motioned to Ouma and grimaced, seeming to remember something.

“You’re just salty about the fact I came up with a genius prank,” Kokichi sing songed, grabbing a blanket off the couch.

“Said prank was taping firecrackers to my toilet seat,” Kaito muttered, loudly sighing.

“He what?” Shuichi turned towards a grinning Ouma. “It was hilarious! Not only did he chase me around for like, ten minutes, he also-”

He was cut off by Kaito throwing a pillow at him. “You’re sleeping on the couch for that. Ouma, show him the guest room, I am not going to bed angry. Goodnight you two,” Kaito disappeared into his room.

“Well, follow me Saihara chan!” Kokichi dropped his stack of pillows and blankets onto the couch and lead Saihara to another room. “This is where you’ll sleep. Maybe forever if I decide to kill you!”

Shuichi quietly laughed, feeling fatigue settle in. “Whatever you say Ouma-kun,” he said, yawning into his hand.

“Hey! You should be more scared, you know,” Kokichi’s voice was quieter than before.

“Maybe, but I’m tired and just want to sleep right now,” Saihara lazily pat the other boy’s head. Kokichi just pouted and crossed his arms. “Since I’m so nice, I guess you can go to sleep. Night Saihara chan!”

Shuichi closed the door and laid down, finally letting exhaustion take over.

—

And of course, he woke up tightly wrapped in blankets with a small note that read, “I decided not to kill you, maybe next time Saihara-chan!” -D.A

i cant draw but this chapter was so adorable ohmg the serotonin,,

5 | 6 | 7

Read it on AO3!

#Candy Kingdom #dream anon #saiouma #oumasai #ouma kokichi #saihara shuichi #ouma #kokichi #saihara #shuichi #danganronpa v3 #i love this update sm #its just SO GOOD AA #and so cute;;;#thanku d.a #JJ tries to draw #submission

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