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nothomegal · 1 year ago

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"Flashing warnings"

Pyramid Head x GN Reader

Summary: you've been with the executioner for quite some time, enough for you to have your own special bond. You were his, and that fact alone was enough for the whole Silent Hill to avoid you, well aware of what they'll find out if they mess around. However, this little rule is unknown for any unfortunate newcomers that get trapped in this cursed town, and today you've met one of these newcomers... One would think, seeing monsters avoiding you like fire should be enough proof to do the same, but... Eh, some people are way too stubborn and blind.

Warnings: typical violence and gore, (Y/N) getting mistreated by meanies >:(

Word count: 2.9k

(Y/N) been sitting on this old matress for quite some time, they've already tried any possible sitting position yet non made the book they're reading more interesting.

Pyramid Head, or how they began to call him, 'Pyra', left to hunt and punish whatever soul putrid enough to get his attention. He's been gone a good amount of hours and they haven't heard a single sound of his in the distance, no metal scraping against the concrete at the distance or any screams of agony from his victim, nothing. How many hours it been? Three? Five? It's tough to tell, specially when this town knows no day/night cycles and it's always foggy. Even though they're not sure how long it been, they can tell it's the longest Pyra's been gone.

They switch into a laying position as they begin to think about what to do now. They could totaly go out and take a walk if they wanted, but they're concerned they'll end up bumping into the people Pyra is hunting. No, they won't get punished but they don't want to witness a literal slaughter neither, and whenever something (literaly anything) dares to interact with (Y/N), the pyramid headed beast seems to go wild of fury.

This is some very serious issolation, but (Y/N) became fine with it and Pyra is not as bad of a company as he initialy was. Feel him close to them, his big palm resting against their body as a reminder that he's there, the random noises that come out his helmet whenever he seems content or wants to get their attention... To be honest, these little things became more than enough at this point, and it's not like they've used to be the most social butterfly anyways. And even if they were... Well, arguing with Pyra is useless, he never budges, and if (Y/N) starts to get unreasonable or the argument goes nowhere, he simply brushes his togue across their face, purpously waiting for the moment their open their mouth. And ta-da! Argument solved since (Y/N) is too shocked and flustered to continue and Pyra simply let's out a deep and amused rumble.

(Y/N) chuckles to themselves at this memory, when it happened the first time the face they made was probably priceless, and the way Pyra allowed them to hide their face in his chest so the shame goes away... Sigh, they hope he returns soon.

The hairs on the back of their neck stood up when they began to hear the sound of numerous people run and hurriedly yellsomething to each other. (Y/N) of course panics a bit, and to avoid any possible interaction with the group of people they sneak into the corner of the room near the door, so if anyone of the group peeks inside they won't notice (Y/N) right away. It also seems like the people are running away from something, something that is not Pyra because of the lack of known bulky footsteps and scraping sounds.

Unfortunately, their little plan went town the drain when the group of around five man bursted through the old door and attempted to close it, while the creature outside of it was desperately slaming itself against the wooden surface. (Y/N) turned completely still as they shrunk in their place, internally hoping that due to the intense moment these people wouln't notice then and would simply brush off their form as some inanimate object.

Unfortunately, one of the men did noticed them.

—"Hey Dave, there's another one hidin' over he-"—

The man couldn't finish the sentence as the creature from the other side managed to burst through the door, throwing the men on the ground in the process. Some of them stumble back, others pull out their weapons and point at the creature, who resulted to be a monster known as ‘Slurper’, take a guess why it's called that. Not the most difficult creature to deal with but definitely the trickiest, it’s very fast and definitely can handle or dodge some shots and hits from the group.

The monster crawls inside of the room, it’s elongated face making some slurping noises as drool and blood drips from its mouth. But the beast suddenly freezes mid-step, and very slowly and subtly turns it’s head towards (Y/N), making the men look at them as well. The monster suddenly lets out a whine, similar to that of a dog, and practically runs away at high speed, completely terrified.

The group stare at the door in shock, their mouth gaping a bit. (Y/N) remains stiff, their knees pressed to their chest as they think what to do now. The answer comes when one of the man, who seems to be the leader, stands up and starts walking towards them, his expression indescifrable, but his gaze definitely holding malice.

So (Y/N) jumps to their feet as fast as they could and make a run through the doorway and down the hallway. They can hear the group yell something as they chase them, their voices angry and irritated, which only motivated them to keep running since it’s now clear that these people weren’t kind at all.

Things turn significantly worse when they get grabbed by the back of their clothes and then tackled down on the floor, the impact was rough and quite painful which made (Y/N) release a pained whine. The man above them grabs a good chunk of their hair and presses their head agains the dirty and cold floor as he looks at them.

—“The fuck was that? How did you do it?!”— he exclaims strictly, his tone demanding.

—“D-Did what?… S-Scaring the- the monster th-thing?”— you nervously reply, your voice a bit shaky. —“I-It’s not really me, it’s the being tha-that ‘owns’ me.”—

(Y/N) knew they sound like they’re crazy, like they’re out of their mind, but it’s the best way they can explain their unusual situation. It is true, the executioner practically owns them, he has the power to claim and to keep them with him, to keep anyone and anything away from something his, to keep them eternally by his side, his and no one else's.

As expected, the man on top of them only scrunched his face with confusion and disgust, definitely thinking that (Y/N) is just another crazy ex-resident of this hellish town.

—“Yeah… Right.”— he slowly says.

—“Mathew, do you still have the tape? Bring it.”—

A clear sound of a duct tape being unwrapped made them shiver, uh-oh, they’re in a big-time problem. They attempt to wiggle out and keep running, but the man above them slams their head agains the floor.

—“Keep it still bitch, we just want to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.”— he grumbles angrily and slams your head again.

(Y/N) could feel blood start dripping from their nose. Being forced to calm down since these men clearly aren't fooling around and are not afraid to hurt them if they need, they relax and allow another one to tape their wrists together behind their back, as well as their ankles.

—“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, the executioner will not have mercy…”— you comment, not even bothering to elaborate, knowing that these people are dead meat already.

—“Pff, executioner. If you’re of his property, then why were you in that room just chillin’ all by yourself?”— another man asks.

—“Because he can allow himself to do it, and because any smart creature knows to not fuck around me because of what they’ll found out.”— you say, your tone a bit sassier by the end.

—“Any smart creature, huh?”— the man that was on top of you suddenly grabs you by the throat. —“In my understanding, a smart creature will learn to shut the fuck up, I could easily cut your tongue off right now if I wanted but not sure if that will affect whatever effect you have on the monsters, so I'll give you one last chance to remain quiet, understood? You farm animal.”—

The grip on (Y/N)‘s throat was tight and it was hard to breathe, the male’s eyes were dark and cold, no hesitation in them as he said these threats, definetely not the first time he makes them. Believing his words, (Y/N) nods hurriedly as the lack of oxygen began to affect them. The man grins and let go of them roughly, basically throwing their body on the floor.

—“Aight, who’s going to carry their ass?”—

The men discuss for a short moment, until agreeing that the biggest one of them should do it. Ones everything was sorted out and (Y/N) was being manhandled in his grasp, the group resumed their walking.

The men were shocked, some of them even got smug, at the way the creatures avoided them now. What’s that? A monster does have guts to attack? A single sound or movement from (Y/N) was enough to set the creature from fight into flight. Each time something run away, the men would laugh and cackle loudly, clearly feeling like they've beat the system and are some sort of untouchable beings.

Silly bastards, they don’t know what awaits them.

It’s unclear how long they’ve been roaming around, but it was long enough for the group to get lost, again, and decide to take a rest. The man carrying (Y/N) carelessly (throws) puts them on the ground, face first, as the rest settle down as well. Non of the five bothered to talk or acknowledge (Y/N), though sometimes they would throw some random questions at them, but of course they'd never been able to finish the answer since one of the five would end up rudly interrupting them.

At some point (Y/N) began to ignore them, aware that they're nothing but a gag to these people. The youngest of the group seemed a bit pissed at being ignored, so he stands up and walks towards (Y/N)'s lying form, who was still paying no mind, and out of nowhere kicks them hard on their stomach, making the air inside of them leave in a violent exhale.

—"You talk and look at us when we speak to you."—

They say nothing, still trying to regain their breath. The man above them sighs and rolls his eyes before crouching down and grabbing them by their hair, to posteriorly pull them to their knees.

—"Listen sugar, just because you scare away the crap that lives here, it means shit to us. You're fuckin' helpless and at our mercy, so you do and act as told and when is told, understood?"—

Before (Y/N) could do anything, a sudden deafening roar resonated through the whole building and from an unknown direction. The noise similar to some huge unknown beast fiercely howling through something metallic. A shiver of anticipation ran through (Y/N)’s spine, Pyra must’ve found their drops of blood and figured out what happened, and now he’s on his way to take them back.

The other five noticeably tensed up and frantically looked around, as if trying to locate the creature through the walls...

Walls.

(Y/N)'s gaze was already focused on one of he walls, knowing that their lover would't waste his time in searching for an entrance. The man, who's still holding them by their hair, slowly drags his gaze to the same wall.

—"Guys..."— he says uneasily.

—"Yes, we heard that too, dumbass."— one of the other four hisses back.

—"No, guys, get away from the fuckin- "—

A loud crashing sound resonated behind the mentioned surface, followed by the well known heavy footsteps and scraping of metal. The other four quickly get behind the fifth and (Y/N), who was currently having the brightest grin on their face, relieved that he came for them.

—"{The fuck was that?!}"— one of the males yells half whispers to you.

—"That?"— you let a little hum as you close your eyes and look away so the dust doesn't get directly into your face. —"That is the reason why everything in here avoids me."— you say with the calmest tone possible.

—"Wha- "—

Another loud crash and a huge wave of dust cut off his question completely. While the dust was still on the air, the previous heavy footsteps were quickly approaching, making the floor shake with each step. When the men saw the silhouette of this massive unknown creature they paniced, since it showed no hits of stopping, quite the opposite actually. The one, that been holding (Y/N), pushes them roughly forward without thinking, actin on some desperate instinct.

—"Here! Take them instead!"—

The five were ready to run, but got stopped by their own shock when the monster reached out and caught (Y/N) before they fall on the ground. It was still hard to see what exactly the beast did, due to the still thick layer of dust, but the sudden loud and deep metallic growl that the beast let out was enough for them to defrost and set into running. They don't get too far though, since their legs get suddenly caught and tangled into a bunch of rusty wires and thorns coming out of the floor, whick held them still and cut their soft flesh with the mildest movement.

A small chill jolted through (Y/N) at the sight of the mysterious thorns. They knew it was Pyra's doing, he rarely used that hability of his and they learned that he only uses it when he's trully pissed. And he wasn't just that, he was livid. The sight of bruises on (Y/N)'s neck from the previous grab really railed the monster up, just how dares that filty mortal touch and mark something his? Only he has the privilege to touch (Y/N), to hold them, to look at them, to hear their voice and all the things they say in that calm and sweet tone they always use when they're happy... Just how dare they attempt to take all of this away from him? The executioner.

The monster tears the tape off (Y/N)'s wrists and ankles before putting them down, his movements a bit rough due his agitation yet he did his best to keep it under control.

He then rises to his full height, sword in hand, and slowly walks towards the group. The closer he got, the more desperate the man acted, pulling their legs out of the sharp wire-mess just for it to tangle around their limb even tighter.

The beast's first target was the youngest one, the one who had the guts to hold (Y/N) by their hair and threaten them, Pyra really didn't like that one.

The male has no time to even inhale to start begging, as the monster simply cuts him in half with his sword. (Y/N) of course didn't want to see the gore that is about to happen, so they carefuly and quietly leave the room through the hole their beast of a man made durning his enrance. The last thing they've seen before leaving was Pyra practically tearing one of the man up apart like paper, going specially slow to inflict even more pain.

(Y/N) is unsure how long it took Pyra to finish them, they simply remained sitted on the floor with their legs pressed against their chest and covering their ears to silence the screams and the wet gory sounds of muscles and bones breaking. They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly pulled up by a pair of large arms and is pressed agains a broad torso. Pyra held (Y/N) in this posessive embrace for quite a while, the mildes movement from them would make the beast growl and press them even closer.

(Y/N) however, still attempted to soothe their lover by gently nuzzling agains his chest and rub it with their hand.

—"I am so sorry..."— you apologize, though you both knew it wasn't really your fault. —"I was just hanging out in that room we've been before, and... And these people entered there while running away from another beast, and- "—

They couldn't finish the explanation since Pyra suddenly shoved their face further into his chest, muffing the rest of their little rant. The action, which embarassed (Y/N) a bit, also made them understand that their lover doesn't need any excuses or explanations, he's content to have them back and unharmed. They sigh softly and eventually relax in his grasp and going practically rag doll, in response and after some time, Pyra's body also relaxed a bit, yet his grip on (Y/N) remained strong and firm like iron, refusing to let go.

—"Pyra."— you manage to move yout head just enough to say it.

A low grumble resonated from his helmet and chest, though it didn't sound hostile, more like his version of 'hhmm?'.

—"I love you, thank you for being around."— you say honestly, as you move just enough to reach his neck area and kiss the little skin exposed between his clothes and helmet.

The little sweet gesture was answered with a low purr as Pyra's large hands roam around their body for a bit, caressing and feeling each curve through their clothes. The touches weren't suggestive surprisingly, which meant that this affection was genuine and not the product of his monstrous lust towards them.

They both stay like this for a while longer, (Y/N) saying and whispering things in a soft tone that Pyra absolutely adored to hear, and he kept holding them against himself, pawing their body time to time just to feel them more. Their warmth, their pulse, their breathing...

To feel them.

To feel them being all H̸̫̥͙̮͍̮͋͑Ḯ̴͓̦̻͈̜͍̇̃͋͠S̴͖̘̍̓̉̑.

#nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #gn reader #slasher x reader

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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months ago

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Just a thought came to mind! How do you feel about Raphael, Haarlep, Rolan, and Zevlor being spanked by you (with consent of course!)? I'm curious :3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭*✩‧₊ When Love Gets A Little Cheeky

⊹ D’awh this is so adorably cute!!! They all have nice booties so yes!!! Let’s smack some bg3 ass!!!!

⊹ Content: Smacking Some Ham ♡ ♡ ♡ - Cheeky - Cute - Teasing

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Zevlor

Watching Zevlor do just about anything is like a treat for your eyes. The way his muscles ripple beneath the white fabric of his linen shirt when he does anything, it’s hard not to drool a little. But right now, as he bends to grab the cloth he dropped, you suddenly notice just how fine his backside is…

You’re sitting there, legs crossed, completely entranced. Your body seems to have a mind of its own as you quietly get up and make your way over to him, hands tucked behind your back, cheeks flushed with a mischievous grin. Just as he straightens up, your hand playfully lands a cheeky smack on his rear!

Zevlor’s reaction was so priceless, so cute as his tail shoots straight up, spinning around, utterly bewildered at the sudden violation of his privacy. His eyes meet your beautiful face, which is lit up with the biggest, most innocent smile and blush.

You giggle, “Sorry! I just couldn’t resist! It’s just so nice and it was just staring at me!” Your lashes flutter, laughing, and gaze up at him with the same sweet expression.

It takes him a moment but soon his body relaxes, the look of confusion on his face replaced with that sweet and kind smile of his, that smile that always makes you fall for him over and over again, “You should wane on the side of caution, my dear. One might think that you were flirting with me.” His tail slinked up around your waist to pull you closer, making you giggle again.

You rest your hands on his chest, giving it a playful rub, eyes twinkling as you reply, “Gasp! Flirt with a hellspawn? Never!” You bite your lip with a cheeky grin, leaning into him, fingers toying with his shirt buttons.

Zevlor chuckles, “Well then, I suppose it is I who should wane on the side of caution in such a situation. The look you're giving me suggests I might have a succubus in my arms.” He leans down to capture your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck as his tail holds you close.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Haarlep

Sneaking up on Haarlep? Yeah, that wasn’t really your strong suit. Even now, as you watch the creature sprawled out on your bed, lying in his stomach with that tempting ass of his in the perfect position to be played with- just begging to be smacked...

But Haarlep, being the ever tease he was, just laid there, his eyes closed as he played along with your games. The incubus is always so eager to see what you’re planning.

You try, oh how you try so quietly to sneak up on your incubus, standing beside the bedside where he lounges, eyes locked on that irresistible ass. Just as you think you’ve finally did it- that you finally were able to land the perfect blow, your hand coming down- his tail snakes around your wrist… And with a swift tug, you’re forced to fall onto his back.

“Now, now, what have we here~? What mischief are you up to, my little dove?” That voice, that sultry whisper that always sends a delicious shiver down your spine, “Up to no good again, I see? Whatever shall I do about this~?” As his tail releases your wrist, it swoops down deliver a smack to your own ass, “Looks like I’ll have to teach you a lesson or two~”

Deep down, you knew it would end up like this, but honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way~

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Raphael

Lounging in the House of Hope, you watched your devil as he paced around, examining his latest contract. The parchment was so insignificant compared to that handsome smirk playing on his lips, how his tail swayed, and you couldn’t help but admire how his pants hugged his rear just right.

You felt so incredibly lucky to be in his presence, grateful he decided to keep you around so that you could enjoy the view of such eye candy.

As he approached where you were soaking in his healing bath, he lowered the contracts so that he could glance down at you with a dark chuckle, “Enjoying yourself, mous?”

You tilted your head with a playful smile, “would be better if I had a certain devil I knew in here with me~” you replied, lifting your leg out of the tub in a teasing manner.

“In due time.” he murmured, beginning to walk away.

But patience wasn’t on your agenda today, not at all. Feeling a bit bratty and craving his attention, you decided to make a move. With haste, you stepped out of the water, careful not to slip as you dashed up to him, delivering a playful smack to his ass.

You watched as his shoulders tensed and his tail froze mid sway. As he turned to face you, his little mouse, you flashed him a toothy grin, stuck your tongue out, and scampered back to the bath, read for the cat and mouse game you knew he enjoyed so much~

Peeking out from the water, you watch him observiently.

“My, my, how Ill mannered of you, little mouse.” He mused, snapping his fingers to make the contract vanish. In an instant, he also disappeared only to appear behind you, pressing against your backside, his body pinning you against the edge of the bath. His large hand cupping your ass possessively.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Rolan

Rolan was always the serious type, nose buried in his scrolls and potions. Even now as you visited him in his tower, he’s all about his work. You let out a dramatic sigh, plopping yourself onto his desk, watching him with nothing but boredom in your eyes.

Hopping off his wooden desk, you lean against him, your chest brushing up against his arm as you grin wide at him. Rolan barely spares you a glance, sighing, “Can I help you with something?”

“Just watchin!~” You chirp, wiggling your hips before slipping behind him. He’s so absorbed in his potion and scroll. Leaning back, your hands come up to frame his cute little butt like a camera lens.

“So adorable~” You whisper under your breath.

“What was tha-?”

Your hand suddenly claps down somewhat hard on his ass, causing Rolan to let out a cry, and the potion in his hands to go everywhere. He doesn’t have to turn around so you can see his reaction. From how he suddenly froze and his whole body tensed up, you can tell that the poor tiefling is stunned.

You bite back a laugh, a small squeak coming from your mouth as you cover your mouth. Rolan, on the other hand, lets out a strangled noise from his throat as he slowly turns his head towards you. His eyes are narrowed, and the tips of his ears an even brighter red.

A smirk graces your lips as you reach up to tap his nose, “Oops! There was a fly there~” you wink.

Rolan sighs heavily, his face falling into his hands as he shakes his head.

He swore you were going to be the death of him.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur’s gate 3 #raphael bg3 #zevlor #haarlep #Rolan #bg3 raphael #zevlor bg3 #raphael the cambion #haarlep the incubus #rolan bg3 #tav #bg3 x reader #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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ppersonna · 4 years ago

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swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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myuni-moon · 3 years ago

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#burning up

—synopsis: diluc's body has always been warm. yet when it comes to you, he can't help but feel the lick of fire as his skin burns up. he can't help but want more of the pain as the inferno readies to swallow him whole.

—warnings: yandere content, yandere cult stuff, sagau, mentions of fire and being burned, religious imagery

the flames of his vision have never bothered him. even as the fire just barely singes the tips of his fingers during battle, it has never once burnt diluc. he supposes that perhaps it was a natural tolerance against heat, a tolerance amplified by the help of the gift given to him by teyvat's beloved creator; however, he knows that it's something much more than that.

there is an inferno within him, a fiery passion unmatched by any simple flare. the devotion that blazes within his body and soul fans it into something that turns anything in its way to ash. though it has left diluc's enemies reduced to nothing but dust, he has never once felt the heat.

it all changes when he sees you for the first time in all your glory.

the dawn of a new day awaits your presence, as does diluc as he stands still in front of the doors to your abode. his crimson hair contrasts against the gold and marble of the walls and floor; the young aristocrat stands out even more, clothed in the usual dark colors of his closet.

the outside world still sleeps, all the while diluc catches his reflection on the surface of one of the countless priceless decorations on the wall. the man eyes himself, scrutinizing his own being for not wearing anything lighter, wear something that wouldn't make him look so dreary in front of his own god— but it was too late for that. he would rather repent later with offerings of ash than risking your disappointment for being just the slightest bit late.

diluc taps his chin at a thought. he'd have to ask for your preferred palette of colors from the other worshippers serving you within your temple. would you like something with neutral colors? maybe something light and refreshing would be something you found favorable? or would you perhaps rather prefer the dark and dreary like he did?

in the midst of his deep pondering, zhongli's voice reverberates from behind the stone door. it has diluc jumping in his place, then stilling and tensing as he hears his name being uttered by the former archon. he doesn't even need to see you know that you're already sitting on your throne in the other room; he can already feel it with the way his hands become clammy and the pang of fire hits his chest softly. nervousness permeates from him, soaking his entire being like oil. it makes him into a pyre, ready to be set ablaze at any moment.

the click of the mechanism tells him that he's about to see you. adrenaline rushes to his head, but it's still nervousness that makes his right hand shake as it settles on his left breast. the intricately carved door opens with the creak of stone as diluc casts his gaze upon the ground, eyes shy to gaze upon your form.

diluc takes a quick glance at the room which he enters. the room is round, a representation of how the world revolves around you— something venti had been insistent on during the building of your abode. fire lights up his surroundings as water flows from the walls into indents on the floor; its flow is calm, almost as if unmoving if he didn't hear the gentle splash of the water as it twists around. crystals and gems of every kind litter the circumference, along with other treasures that had been offered to you. the curtains made from the silk flowers that the people had exclusively grown for you are drawn up to reveal a red line upon the horizon.

your throne rests at the very center of it all, but diluc can't look at you. it's dangerous, he thinks. if he were to even try, he feels as if he'd be like a moth drawn to a flame.

"diluc," you say his name softly. "won't you look at me, diluc?"

you coax sweetly, similar to a siren's song to a sailor in dangerous waters. it's a call of death— a doom that diluc knows would destroy him from the inside-out— but it was also a serene release where your most gentle of affections would welcome him. still, it was an end.

the sun climbs its way up the sky, above the clouds lining the horizon. the background only dots with hues of yellow and orange, still swallowed by the blue and purple of the night. he can feel your burning stare into his head, as he lowers his body in front of you. the freezing tiles under him feel like a reprieve as his body temperature shoots up. diluc hears you call his name again, and he swears that it feels like he's being burned alive.

heat overtakes him completely, and he enters a state similar to a fever dream. his fingertips tingle, his eyelids feel heavy, and the weight of your presence weighs down on him. diluc hears the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, fast and pumping with the ferocity of a scorching forest. he doesn't even hear the sound of your steps as your feet bring you to him.

it's your touch that sears him first when your hand grazes his cheeks when not even the tip of burning metal could burn him. your nails ghost over his lips, and diluc swears that you're brandishing your claim over him even when you've barely touched him. the man lets out a shaky breath, and he prepares himself for the oncoming heatwave stemming from his stomach.

your body radiates warmth like the sun the closer you stick to him. he's melting like candle wax to a flame, self-restraint from becoming nothing but a mess of devotion and obsession slowly dripping into nothing. you whittle him away, even more so when you whisper into his skin, breath making the room hotter and hotter. steam clouds his head.

you know exactly what you're doing to him, can see it in the glint of faux innocence in your eyes. it allures him into the threshes of the underworld, a devil's silver tongue coaxing him into sin. in the moment of weakness, he wonders if he could escape the underworld-like heat he's trapped in. if he just took one look, would a heretic such as he ever escape the gates of hell and enter the clouds of heaven? would there be salvation for him if he gave into temptation?

it isn't long until he gives in, and his eyes finally lock with yours. sweat beads his forehead, and his body makes no change to cool itself down at all― it only gets warmer.

dawn breaks through, casting you in the honeyed filter of the morning. diluc freezes despite the bubbling of blood under his skin. his lips go dry, pain erupting all across his body as his heart starts to thirst for you once more; half-lidded eyes stare at you with fervor. his love for you scorches him, leaving him aching with a want that suffocates his lungs. diluc's throat tightens. it hurts, he thinks, but he wants more.

the more it hurts, the more he wants it― hands burning to keep you in his grasp, knowing that you aren't some force from an unknown plane of existence.

stop, he thinks at the back of his head. "please don't stop."

stop, he pleads in a murmured prayer. "don't stop."

stop, he desperately cries from the deepest depths of his soul―

"don't ever stop."

he gives into the fever, lets his body burn up and devotion swallows him whole. as his breath is stolen by the unending sea of flames within his soul, he suffocates under the blinding intensity of need.

#gi.diluc #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x reader

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darlincollins · 2 years ago

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"it's your god-forsaken right to be loved" part 1

thanks so much to @colloquialcolival for the amazing prompt from the post list! could not get the idea of david and darlin' role swap out of my head so! 'confronted by your pack alpha' but switched around a bit~

content warnings for quinn, as well as brief mentions of character injury, violence, and character death

"What the actual fuck, David?"

He'd hardly had time to open the door before his alpha had shouldered their way in and taken a long moment to catalogue his various injuries, still healing after the fight with the two vampires.

He opened his mouth to answer, but they were already waving a hand at him dismissively and swiping on their phone with the other.

"What are you doing?"

"Asking Sam to come over. You look like you got run over by a motorcycle gang."

"I don't need your boyfriend-"

"Hey," they snarled, instantly on the defensive. "Watch it." A deep breath, and their hackles lowered. "When he gets here, you're going to sit on this gross bloody couch," they said in a decidedly calmer tone, pointing at the couch in question, "and get healed, and be, if not polite, at least not a complete jackass. Got it?"

David crossed his arms stubbornly. It might have been a more powerful gesture had his tender ribs not whined in protest, but he was sure he kept enough of a straight face to not give away the game. Even so, his alpha's eyes snapped suspiciously to his chest before they looked him in the eyes again. "I said, got it?" That dangerous edge was creeping into their voice again.

"Fine," he muttered. Got to pick which hills you die on, right? And conceding a battle which would result in his injuries lessening so he could be back in good shape for the next hunt seemed like a small price to pay.

"Delightful," they said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now then. Would you care to explain why it appears the nightmare fucking sadist freak you assured me had been taken into custody over a year and a half ago is in fact roaming the streets freely and attacking unempowered undergrads for fun?"

Well, shit. "I-"

"Or maybe you could start by telling me why I received the rare honor of a text from you last week in which you said you were still out of state, only to later find out you were apparently fucking curbstombed by two vampires that you went after BY YOURSELF, and then to discover when I chatted with your landlord who is definitely a drug dealer that you've actually been here for a couple of months!"

"You talked to my landlord?"

They glared darkly at him. "Is that really the response you're going with right now? Yes, I did. Charming guy, by the way. Had an honest to god trenchcoat full of illegal pill baggies."

David shrugged, again ignoring the stab of pain in his ribcage. The building manager was definitely a suspicious character, but the rent was cheap and the fact that he didn't ask questions was almost priceless. Ordinarily, the man never even would have answered the questions of anyone inquiring after one of his tenants, but he understood that even to an unempowered person, an alpha's direct request was difficult to ignore.

"Hey," they interrupted his train of thought, clapping gently in front of his face. "Earth to David."

"What?"

"Um, the pile of shit you've been dealing with? The insanity you've been hiding and lying about to all of us? The multiple questions I just asked you?"

"Yeah? What about them?" David snapped. He really wasn't in the mood for an interrogation from the pissed off alpha of the pack he'd never really belonged to except in name.

They groaned, rubbing their face in their hands. "Okay. This isn't working."

"Clearly. Why are you even here? Pretty sure the Department doesn't know about those vampires, and Quinn's hardly going to go after an entire werewolf pack with no provocation."

The other shifter looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Wh- are you serious? You look like death. You fought two vampires by yourself, and I'm real sure you're not taking the time to rest and recover from that shit. You're on some kind of solo manhunt against the guy who almost killed you and your friend, like, not even two years ago. Is it really out of the realm of possibility I might be a little concerned for your safety?"

Seriously? Why would they be? It's not like they were close friends or ever had been. It's not like he'd ever done anything for them except ask them to pick him up from the Department healing ward after Quinn, when he was battered and beaten nearly into the ground. Ask them to clean up his mess, even when he knew they were still struggling to figure out how to be an alpha. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

They groaned. "Look. I know that- I know I wasn't good at... being... there for you before. Or anyone. I picked Asher to be my beta because I knew I sucked with people, and having him there to pick up the slack was good after- when my dad died. But it also meant I didn't have to deal with my flaws, or learn how to be better. I leaned on him too much, and that's my fault. So... I get why maybe you couldn't tell me before. And why you left. But I- I'm here now. I promise. I'm not gonna let you down again. So... don't do this by yourself, okay?"

Now it was David's turn to stare at the other wolf. Be there for him? Let him down? What the hell were they talking about? And less pressing but equally mystifying, when had they gotten so talkative? They really hadn't been close before, but had tended to gravitate towards each other at pack events when their social batteries had run out to sit in vaguely sullen silence. But did they seriously think he'd left, or gotten so distant, because of them? He knew what it felt like to lose people. He'd never faulted them for needing to adjust to their new role, or for having growing pains after losing their dad. "I didn't-" he sighed. "None of this happened because of you. It was my mistake. My bad decisions. I'm going to fix it."

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" the alpha said, sounding annoyed. "You don't have to do this by yourself. And honestly, you shouldn't. I've heard some stuff about this Quinn guy, and he sounds both super evil and super dangerous. You could die."

David started a shrug, remembered his probably/definitely broken ribs, and instead lifted one shoulder casually.

"Are you serious? I just said you could die and you're fucking shrugging at me? I'm seriously gonna throw something at you."

"I thought you said I needed to sit down and get healed, but now you're threatening to throw stuff at me?"

They folded their arms, shooting him a dark look. "Don't get smart with me while you're actively leaking blood, dumbass. I see that very obvious stain on your shirt. And quit changing the subject. You have a death wish. Which I guess is your prerogative, except you're also part of my pack, so unfortunately for you, I'd rather you didn't die in a ditch somewhere. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything about Quinn so that we can keep the pack informed and prepared. You're going to start coming to the pack meetings again, because I'm pretty sure some people are starting to think you're an urban legend I made up and that's-"

"Hold on," David interjected, heartbeat picking up. "I'm not doing any of that." He'd lied in the first damned place because he knew that every single person in the pack was too stubborn for their own good. Too loyal to basically anyone who crossed their path, no matter if they deserved it or not. They'd never let Quinn go if they thought he was still out there, because they didn't know when to give up. Sure, Quinn would never be so stupid as to attack the strongest werewolf pack in Dahlia outright. But if they started hunting him, there were people connected to the wolves that he could hurt. Asher's mate. His alpha's mate had newblood progeny, already tormented by the monster himself. Any of the pups or pack elders. They'd all be in danger, and it would be David's fault. "It's in your best interest for me to stay gone."

"Mm, okay, first of all, don't tell me what's in my best interest. Secondly, I don't know if this is like, some vigilante thing or you really think everyone is going to just sit on our hands while you try to "keep us safe" in the event Quinn decides to pull something-"

"Exactly. If he finds out you're targeting him-"

"BUT," they said sternly, "like I said. You're a part of this pack too. So Quinn already declared war on us, and that means we're going to help you finish this."

It was unbelievable. Would they seriously condemn the entire pack to possibly dying at the hands of a sadistic vampire just because he was technically still attached to them in name? "Then maybe I shouldn't be in the pack anymore."

They looked horrified. "What?" A wolf requesting to be removed from a pack was almost unheard of. Spending so long tangled in the magic of other shifters had a way of connecting one's threads to their packmates'. That bond never fully went away even if you moved to the other side of the world. But if you really left, were exiled, those threads linking you to your people snapped and never healed. David would never be able to truly join another pack again. It would be worth it, to know that everyone was safe. It would be worth it.

"Just kick me out. Then I won't be your problem anymore."

The alpha seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged. "No."

"What?"

"No. You don't get to drop off the face of the earth to satisfy your guilt, or to 'protect' people at the expense of your own life. Once we get things fixed with Quinn, if you really still want to leave the pack for good... we can talk about it then." They looked a little unhappy about it. "But in the meantime, you're doing this with our help, or I swear I'll assign a pack member to shadow you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and I'll tell them their only job is to not lose sight of you and to just keep talking and talking and-"

"Jesus. Fine, okay?" He'd figure out a way out of this eventually, or maybe they'd realize it wasn't a cause worth pursuing.

"Great. There's a pack meeting later at the den, 9 PM. Are you coming yourself, or am I driving you there?"

He growled. "I said I'd do what you wanted, right?"

They smirked, looking far too pleased with themself. "Indeed, and you were so pleasant about it too."

David had expected them to leave after they'd gotten their way, but instead they kept standing there, looking around his apartment. "Was there something else, or..."

"We're waiting for Sam, remember? You still look like you were trampled by a herd of elephants, and I'm pretty sure the second I leave you're going to do some stupid shit that makes it worse."

"So you're just going to stand here until-"

"Yep. Do you have any food? Actually, when was the last time you ate?"

He glared at them. "Seriously? You're lecturing me about good eating practices? Didn't you once try to make apple pie by microwaving a slice of bread with apple slices and Splenda on top?"

"That was a long time ago," they said dismissively, walking over to his fridge. "Besides, I've been fully lectured out of that by now." The glow from the refrigerator lit up their face as they peered inside. "Huh. This looks like the plant section at Home Depot. Where's your actual food?"

"Actual food?"

"Like, substantial food. Carbohydrates. Protein. Starches."

"What the fuck?"

They shrugged. "It's cool, man. We'll get you some pizza or a cheeseburger or something."

A knock at the door startled them both, though David's alpha recovered faster. "That must be Sam. Remember what I told you. Sit-"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, following them to the door. "Sit, get healed, and be polite, or at least not a jackass. I got it."

#redacted asmr #redacted darlin #redacted david #maywrites

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thatbritishactor · 3 years ago

Text

In Between Breaths (Part 9)

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader

Summary : Literature College Professor Benjamin Greene moves to the US after his divorce with Julia. Heartbroken, he’s given up on the idea of love. Everything changes when he meets you.

Warnings: Cursing. This fic might contain smut in the future.

Type: The Slowest of Burns, Dark/light Academia, Professor/TA.

Words: 2,900

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

In Between Breaths Playlist

My Masterlist

Your heart slamming against your ribs, you try to tame the wild thoughts surging through your mind. Benjamin has kissed you. You subtly shake your head, disbelief washing over you: it has finally happened. After months of quiet longing, hoping, and waiting, Benjamin has finally kissed you.

It replays endlessly in your mind, stuck in a loop: the feeling of his hands cupping your face, the touch gentle yet firm. The way his lips have brushed against yours, the sensation tender, languid and promising. You remember his breath on your face, the scent of his skin, the feeling of his short hair brushing against your fingertips.

You feel heat spread in your chest and all the way to your core, and you bite your lower lip, trying to focus on the movie, but fail miserably. Today’s been the best day you’ve had since… Narrowing your eyes, you try to remember the last time you’ve felt like this, but quickly find that no memory compares to the pure feeling of joy that coursed through your veins today.

You remember walking around the store, feeling light and utterly content, bouncing on your feet, Benjamin’s eyes on you. Every once in a while, you caught him looking at you, a beautiful smile on his face, and it made your heart beat faster, and sucked the air out of your lungs.

Benjamin makes you feel safe, at ease, content. The day has gone fast: every single moment more precious and delicious than the last. You’ve felt comfortable, appeased, and even when you’ve finally sat down to study, Benjamin’s presence had reassured you. Sure, his proximity could be distracting, but knowing that he was there, a few feet away, somehow brought peace in your heart; quieting your racing mind, and easing your anxieties.

You can’t pick a favorite moment about today: every minute spent in Benjamin’s company makes sense, as if you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You glance at him, admiring his beautiful profile: the darkness of his eyes, the tv screen reflecting in the deep, obsidian pools, the fair shape of his nose, the edges of his jaw, and the tentative outline of his lips.

You sigh, unbelieving that you’re lucky enough to be sitting on his couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your hand resting on his chest. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body, the steady beating of his heart beneath your palm, hear his quiet breathing, and smell his comforting and now familiar cologne. You wish you could snuggle even closer to him: burying your nose into his neck. If Benjamin allowed, you would gladly spread hundreds of kisses across his jaw, his face, his eyelids, his lips. Instead, you try to relax and focus because he needs time.

“We should take things slow.” His voice still rings in your ears, and you close your eyes, releasing a discreet sigh. He’s worth being patient, and you’ve told him so. You remember the relief in his eyes, and it had made your heart clench in your chest. Benjamin had suffered, terribly so, and you could feel that he wanted to be cautious.

It’s something you understand, you’ve been hurt before, although you’ve never felt this way about anyone. You thought you had been in love before, now you know that you had been fooling yourself. The way you feel about him is so much deeper, more beautiful, and priceless than anything you’ve felt before. You’ve realized that you’d never do anything that could make him pull away, because you need him now, as much as you need air, food or water.

Sure, there are complications. He needs time, probably space, and your father might not be happy about you the two of you going out. But it doesn’t matter. You’d fight anything that comes between you.

Benjamin suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts, his soft voice addressing you.

“Are you tired?”

You blink a few times, looking up, finding him already peering at you. You notice that end credits of the movie are rolling in the background.

“Y- yeah” you reply, oddly out of breath, and your stomach clenches in anticipation.

Will he sleep on the couch again tonight? The thought has been torturing you ever since he’s agreed to you sleeping here. You’d give anything to share a bed with him, but it might not be in his plans currently. He pulled away after one simple kiss and asked you to be patient. He might not be ready to sleep next to you, God forbid sleep with you. The thought drives heat into your cheeks, and you lower your gaze, ashamed of the images flocking into your mind.

“Let’s go to bed” he says in low voice, almost in a whisper.

“Okay” you reply in the say tone, your voice coming out breathlessly.

You slide your hand off his chest, and he smiles, standing on his feet and presenting his hand to you. You grab his palm, your heartbeat accelerating.

Does he mean…?

He guides you into the bedroom, and you let him, hope spreading through your every nerve. You watch him as you reach the bed, and everything in you screams at you to kiss him. He’s never looked more beautiful, the dim light in the room enhancing every angle of his face.

Silence settles in the room and swells, and you let a shaky breath out as he slowly leans down, his soft lips finding yours. The contact immediately sets your body aflame, and you sigh against him, your arms looping around his neck. Benjamin kisses you leisurely, making you slump against him, your body feeling heavy and giddy at the same time.

“Benjamin…” you breathe, breaking the kiss, and he leans back to stare into your eyes. The depth and intensity of his dark irises tears a shiver out of you, and you brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Are you sure?” you ask, and he sighs, placing a hand over your face.

“Let’s just… not think for a second, okay?” he replies, and you nod against his hand.

“Sounds good” you answer, and he kisses you again, his lips capturing you in a heartfelt, passionate embrace.

His hand grabs your face, angling the kiss and deepening it. His hand slips against your back, bringing you closer to him. You let him set the pace, kissing for a while, and find yourself breathless after a few minutes. Benjamin’s hands drift from your back to your face, and he offers you a smile before he speaks.

“Would be alright if we lied together?” he asks, and you nod, blinking slowly.

“Sure, Benjamin” you reply, your mind racing at the implications. You decide to let him guide you, because he’s the one who needs time, and you don’t want to pressure him.

You walk backwards until your knees meet the bed and you sit on it, looking up at him. He walks around the bed and joins you before he settles on it, his head resting against the pillow, an arm placed behind his neck. You scoot over, lying beside him.

You stare at each other for a while, and you can’t hear anything but the beating of your heart in your ears. Benjamin’s hand finds your face, and he gently strokes your cheek, a tender look in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful” he murmurs, and you sigh before you answer.

“So are, you, Benjamin.”

You watch Benjamin’s expression change, from uncertainty to realization, your heartbeat accelerating, and heat spreading on your cheeks. He surprises you when he leans in, his lips finding yours again, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, as he balances his weight on top of you. You let him kiss you, sliding your hands in his hair, bringing him closer to you. Heat spreads through your whole body, a feeling of need and urgency quickly taking over you. You need him closer, craving the feeling of his naked skin against yours, and his hands on your body.

As if he’s heard your thoughts, Benjamin roams his hands over your body, his fingers grabbing your hips, his grip firm on you. You moan against his lips, desire taking the best of you, and he responds with a low growling coming from the back of his throat.

He slides a hand underneath your top, and you feel his fingers hovering above your stomach, sending shivers through your whole body. Before you can think, you reach for his sweater, pulling at it, and he leans back, letting you slide it above his head. You tug at his shirt, bringing back to you, and the kisses get hungrier and frantic as his hands explore your torso, grabbing the flesh of your hips, stroking your ribs, before they find your breasts. You pant against him, and when you open back your eyes, you find dark obsidian irises appraising you. Benjamin kisses you again, crashing hips lips against yours, covering your body with his. You marvel at the feeling of his weight on top of you, opening your legs and wrapping them around his waist to bringing him even closer. You start to grind against him, eager to get some friction, when he suddenly pulls back. You open back your eyes, lost in fiery haze of passion, and shoot him a surprised look.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and you grin, repressing a laugh.

“I feel like I’m the one who should ask you that question.” Benjamin chuckles, setting his head back and briefly closing his eyes.

“I just… I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret” he replies in a hoarse voice.

“Trust me, Benjamin, I want this.”

As he seems to ponder on your words, you watch volatile emotions flicker in his eyes, from need, to fear, then a deep desire, and you lie still, transfixed by his dark and intense gaze.

“What is it?” you ask, desperate to know what he’s thinking.

He tears himself off you to lie on his back next to you, and you immediately miss the feeling of his body pressed against yours. Repressing a frustrated groan, you shift on your side to gaze at him, admiring his beautiful profile. He’s staring at the ceiling, and feelings of doubt and insecurity quickly take over your mind, dissipating the haze of passion you previously felt. Are you a bad kisser? Doesn’t he want you as much as you crave him? Anxiety swells into your chest, and when you speak next, your voice sounds broken.

“Do you want me leave?”

He shoots you a surprised look and you hold his gaze, eager to find some reassurance.

“No, I don’t want that.” He shifts on his side as well, reaching for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, and you let a shaky sigh out, not relieved in the slightest.

“Then what’s wrong?”

You carefully search his expression, and he gently squeezes your hand.

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

You lick your lips, lowering your gaze, letting disappointment wash over you. He’s not ready yet.

“I’m sorry, I know this must be frustrating” he says, and you hear tones of guilt in his voice.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine Benjamin, I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” You quote his own words back to him and let the hurt swallow you whole. What is it about you that doesn’t make him trust you?

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… Last time I was in a relationship… when it ended, it hurt so badly. I thought I’d never get over it.”

You welcome his admission, your heart breaking in your chest. You hate to know that Benjamin suffered this badly. You discover that you’d be willing to do anything to spare him any pain, and nod against the pillow, giving him a soft smile.

“I understand, Benjamin, it’s fine.”

He briefly closes his eyes, and you ponder on your next question, wondering if you’re crossing a line or not.

“How old was she?” The words hang in the air, and you watch Benjamin’s eyes darken, immediately regretting your question.

“She was older than me, twice my age, actually.”

Surprise washes over you as you stare at him. “How long were you together?”

Benjamin shifts on his back, escaping your gaze, and you reach to grab his hand, wanting to appease him.

“Almost a year” he replies, and you blink a few times, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

“We don’t have to talk about it” you offer “If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, I just… I haven’t talked about it in a while.” You hear the strain in his voice, and struggle not to let curiosity get the best of you, questions jostling in your mind.

“Why?”

Benjamin’s eyes find yours again, and you spot insecurity in his gaze. “Because it was too painful” he admits, and jealousy creeps its way into your heart. Who was this woman, and why had he suffered this way? He must have loved her intensely, otherwise he wouldn’t have crossed an ocean to escape his heartbreak.

“I understand, Benjamin”, you reply, and you let him decide if he wants to continue the conversation.

“She was… she was kind, caring, beautiful… But many people judged our relationship, especially her children.”

You gaze at him, amazed that he’s finally opening up to you, and don’t answer, still eager to give him the choice to delve into the conversation or not.

“They thought I was after her money, that I was ill intentioned. They were suspicious, and made everything difficult.”

“I’m so sorry” you offer, and you truly mean it. It must have been terrible to be judged that way. How could anyone believe that Benjamin was anything but sweet? He’s never shown any sign of wickedness. Sure, he could be mysterious, and aloof, but you don’t believe that Benjamin is a bad person, quite the contrary.

“It’s fine, it’s in the past now” he looks back at you, smiling softly, and you lower your gaze, wondering what to say next. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

The question leaves you breathless, and you struggle to find an answer. “I thought I had, but… I don’t think so anymore.” You answer truthfully. Benjamin’s eyes are still fixed on you, and you wonder what he’s thinking.

“What made you change your mind?”

Lowering your eyes on the bed, you ask yourself whether you should answer him or not, because it might be way too soon to admit these kinds of feelings in the early stages of your relationship. Then again, you are falling for him, and it wouldn’t be fair to lie to him. Feeling unsure and nervous, you answer him, still avoiding his gaze.

“Well, the way I feel about you now. It’s very new, I had never experienced anything like this before.”

Your admission is greeted with silence, and you glance up, finding his dark eyes again. The emotion in them makes your insides clench: the depth of his stare takes your breath away, longing and desire appearing clearly in his stormy irises. When he kisses you again, you feel every bit of restraint gone in his touch, and relax under him, letting him completely devour you. You quickly find out that Benjamin must be a passionate lover: he kisses you possessively, and you find yourself aching and desperate to feel more of him. Before you completely lose your reason, you find the strength to pull yourself out of his embrace and take a quick breath.

“We should stop.” You pant, and he rests his forehead against yours, nodding.

“Yeah.”

You close your eyes, amazed by your own self-control. You briefly wonder how long you’ll have to wait until you can finally explore the physical side of your relationship with him but push the thought aside. It’s doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with him.

“Let’s go to sleep, okay?” Benjamin suggests, and you nod, giving him another peck on the lips.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” you ask, eager to change the subject and avoid the dangerous territories you just explored. He smiles and tears himself off you, before getting up and searching his dresser. He retrieves a grey shirt and gives it to you, before undressing. You get on your feet, averting your eyes and refusing to stare at him, knowing your self-control is feeble. You undress, taking your skirt and tights off, before reaching for your top. Benjamin moves around the bed while you slide his shirt on, and remove your bra from under it. When you glance back at him, he’s already under the covers, and your eyes wander over his torso, detailing his slim but muscular figure: his skin looks smooth, and you’re dying to let your fingers wander over his pecs, all the way to his stomach. Instead, you lie down, in front of him, and his hand reaches for your arm, slowly stroking your skin up and down. You release a contented sigh, shivers prickling on your skin, and Benjamin kisses you one last time before he reaches for the light on the nightstand.

Finding yourselves in the dark, you blush intensely, listening to the sound of his breathing. Moonlight enters the room, and you glance at his face, detailing the way the light kisses his features.

“Goodnight” he whispers, and his voice is low and promising. You shift on your other side, knowing that you won’t be able to drift off if you have the possibility of watching him. He keeps tracing patterns on your arm, and you fall try to fall asleep, letting the wine you drank and the intense emotions you felt get the best of you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hi !!! You must hate me by now, huh ? I know I know, but part of me still hesitates to include SMUT or not in this fic... Cause their relationship is so sweet and romantic. I might include smut but as a stand alone, so readers can decide if they wanna read it or not. Sounds good ?

Please tell me what you thought about this part ? i’m an insecure writer and I need reassurance !

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

IBB taglist

@nothingbettertosay81

@tooconspicuous

@logan-deloss

@russosbitch

@katedrexel

@crowssixof

@mgghotbimbo

@hagarsays

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@to-stars-and-back

@leah2002

@musicalggirl

#ben barnes #benjamin greene #benjamin greene x reader #benjamin greene x you #gold digger #my fics #in between breaths

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amphxtrite · 3 years ago

Text

pietro maximoff x fem! reader

warnings: being picked up, tooth-rotting fluff (literally)

summary: pietro goes on his first camping trip.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: thank you to @sweetandsunny for the writing prompts that helped me write this!! ly sunny <3

translations: printsessa- princess, krasivaya- beautiful, milashka- cutie, dorogoy- darling.

———————————————————————————

“Finally Friday.” You yawn to yourself as you collapse onto your bed, after a long week of helping out the team and training, it was time to kick back, relax and-

“Hello Printsessa!”

Oh right, you smirk to yourself, peaking one eye open to see your speedster boyfriend standing at your doorway, a giddy smile on his face.

“Hey Piet.” You murmur, allowing yourself a small smirk as his eyes bounce back and forth from the spot in bed beside you and your eyes, subtly asking for permission.

“Oh alright, come here.” You giggle, opening your arms and immediately feeling Pietro’s body next to your and his arms around your torso.

A content sigh leaves his lips.

“Dorogoy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and snuggling himself closer to your chest.

You smile to yourself and press a peck to Pietro’s blonde hair as fatigue takes over your form.

Now it was time to-

“Okay! If the clothes are off, put them back on, if the lips are locked, unlock them because dad’s here!” A voice suddenly yells, catching both you and Pietro off guard.

You yelp, and sit up suddenly to see your father covering his eyes and standing by the door he just kicked open.

“Ugh, open your eyes dad, we aren’t doing anything.” You groan, falling back down.

“Yes Clint, we were only sleeping!” Pietro chimes, suddenly across the room from you.

“Well it doesn’t matter, get your bag kid, we're going camping!” Clint cheers, throwing his fists in the air.

“And speedy can come too, why not.” Clint shrugs, causing Pietro’s eyes to widen. “I-I don’t want to intrude-”

“Dad, it’s Friday, we’ve been working all week, can’t we go another time?” You plead, finally sitting up.

“Sorry kiddo, but it’s Barton weekend number one, and your siblings and you agreed you would get the first weekend.” The archer smirks, looking at his daughter.

You glance at your calendar and sure enough the yearly event posted on the date was ‘weekend with dad.’

The little voice in your head cheers sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll get packed.” You murmur, standing and grabbing your overnight bag from the floor.

“That’s the spirit!” Clint whoops.

“I should probably-”

Clint’s smile drops.

“Not so fast blondie, get your bags packed, you’re going.” Your father says sternly, patting the Avenger on the back on his way out of the room.

“You better listen, last time I told him no he didn’t make me waffles for six months.” You shudder.

Pietro’s jaw drops, “not the waffles.”

A blue blue went out and back into your room as Pietro returns with a bag slung over his shoulder and wearing clothes a little more suited for the wilderness.

You laugh and shake your head.

“Mind helping me Pietro?” You suggest.

“Of course, milashka.” He grins, pecking you on the forehead as he begins helping you, at a normal pace.

“So tell me again where we’re going, dad.” You question, readjusting your bag straps again as you walk further into the dense forest in front of you.

“A new spot I found while hiking the other day, great place to see the stars…” Your father responds, almost nervously.

“Oh no, I know that voice.” You groan, rolling your eyes as Pietro looks at you confused.

“What is it?” Sokovian asks.

“We’re lost.” You respond plainly, popping the ‘t.’

“We are not lost.” Clint sighs, moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“He brought us out here to die.” You shrug sarcastically.

“You brought us here to die?!” Pietro squeaks, misunderstanding the joke.

“Well, obviously.” Your dad jokes back, not knowing about Pietro’s state.

The platinum blonde man begins murmuring a silent prayer as you and your father continue to banter.

“Let future campers see us as a warning to halt before considering being active.” You sigh dramatically.

“Yes, and may they tell stories of us around the campfires and how great we were.” Clint continues.

Pietro’s brows were furrowed now, very confused by what was going on.

“I cannot tell if you two are being sarcastic or if we are really lost.” He mutters.

You look back over at your boyfriend and the look on his face was priceless, you begin bursting into a fit of laughter, your dad following shortly behind after he catches a glimpse of the mix of concern, fear and confusion slapped onto Pietro’s face

“O-Oh my gosh.” You laugh, placing your hand on Pietro’s arm. “You poor thing, you thought we were serious?” You coo, moving your hands up to Pietro’s cheeks as if he were the most innocent being alive. “Oh you’re adorable.”

“It’s a tradition for the kids, I gotta keep them on their toes.” Clint winks, patting Pietro on the back. “I almost had you this year.” The older Avenger sighs, placing his hand on your head and rustling your hair around.

“In your dreams old man, I saw it a mile away.” You smirk, rolling your eyes and joining your fingers with Pietro’s.

“Okay, okay. The site’s this way, come on.” Your father says, pointing in the direction you could hear rushing water from.

You nod and pull your boyfriend along beside you.

“You’ll get used to it Piet, my sibling’s and I were fooled every year until we started seeing the pattern.” You sigh, reminiscing in your memories of being scared to death as a kid.

“I can see why.” Pietro mutters, still slightly baffled at what had just happened.

Your lips pull even further up into a wide smile and you squeeze Pietro’s hand reassuringly.

“I’ll make sure dad doesn’t do that again, now hurry up, the sun’s setting and we haven’t even pitched our tent.” You laugh, pulling Pietro into a jog and catching up with your dad.

“That’ll do it.” Clint chuckles, stepping back and admiring his tent.

“Mines up too, dad!” You call, unzipping your tent and throwing your sleeping bag inside.

“How about you Pietro, how’s it-”

“Um, a little help?” A weak voice chimes from nearby.

You and your father turn around to see a mess of a tent behind you, beams sticking all over the place and a flustered Pietro standing in front of it, covering whatever he could.

“I-I’ve never been camping, I have only ever seen it on television.” He confesses, crossing his arms.

“Awe Pietro!” You coo, walking over to the pouting Sokovian and wrapping your arms around him.

“Here, hold this part up- Dad, you wanna get in on this?” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Clint chuckles, jogging over and holding up the other half of Pietro’s tent as you begin feeding the thin pole through the thin material, with all three of you, the tent went up quickly and as you stood back to admire your work Pietro giddily runs up and scoops you into his arms.

“You are amazing, krasivaya! absolutely amazing!” He beams, spinning you in circles.

“Hey Piet! I’m getting dizzy!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders and silently praying he’d never put you down.

“Alright you two, stop it before I throw up.” Your father sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing a marshmallow, managing to nail it right on your forehead.

To your dismay, Pietro places you back on the ground and takes your hand as he walks over to the small fire Clint had gotten started.

You sit on one of the chairs set up and accept a small stick and a marshmallow from your dad.

You smirk and stab the fluffy white treat onto the end of your twig and place it above the fire.

Pietro follows your lead and loses focus as the flames seem to swallow his marshmallow whole.

You skillfully pull your marshmallow out as it turns a perfect golden brown, but Pietro isn’t so lucky.

He lifts his stick from the fire to find a small bonfire on the end, and his marshmallow begins to burn.

“Oh- Pietro blow it out!” You rush.

“Right.” He squeals, taking a deep breath and ridding of the fire, leaving him with a charred blob.

“Aw it’s okay Pietro, you can just-.”

The blonde doesn’t let you finish and instead places the whole marshmallow into his mouth.

“-throw it into the fire…”

Pietro’s face contorts from neutral, to disgust, to glee in seconds. His eyebrows raise in surprise and his feet tap happily.

“It’s delicious! a little bitter at first but the rest is perfect!” Pietro muses, quickly snagging the bag of soft treats from your dad’s lap and sticking a bunch onto the end of his stick.

You smile at Pietro’s childlike glee and place your own marshmallow into your mouth, savouring the sweet crust and melts inside in your mouth as your boyfriend ate his like a sweet, sticky kebab.

The sky turns dark and you teach Pietro to make the perfect marshmallow, tell him scary stories and make shadow puppets with the fire’s light just like your dad would do with you when you were young. Clint had grown tired of your couple's antics quickly and retired to his tent earlier, leaving you and Pietro alone.

“Piet, you’ve still got bits of marshmallow on your face.” You laugh, wiping the remnants of sticky sugar out of his goatee and off his nose. Pietro looks down at you lovingly and notices a tiny bit of marshmallow on your bottom lip, without hesitation, his fingers move to your chin and he tilts your head up to let your eyes meet.

Leaning down, your lips meet in a sweet kiss. The taste of marshmallow and charcoal bring smiles to both of your faces as Pietro deepens the kiss. The fire crackles quietly beside you as Pietro’s hands move to your back to pull you closer. Your fingers find their way into his soft hair, tugging ever so gently.

You both part for breath, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breaths.

“You had some marshmallow on your lip, dorogoy.” Pietro smiles sheepishly.

“You don’t say?” You giggle, pressing kisses onto the edges of Pietro’s mouth.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you bask in each other’s warmth, Pietro’s hands sliding up and down your arms and your fingers tangling themselves in his wavy locks.

“Thank you Printsessa, this has been one of the best nights of my life.” Pietro sighs with a grin.

“One of them?” You joke, leaning into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Oh tsvesti, do you think I’ll ever forget the night we first met? Or our first kiss?” Pietro fires back playfully, wrapping his arms around your tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, you got me Pie.” You sigh, cuddling closer into him.

“I know, zefir.” Pietro smirks.

“Wait, what does that one mean?” You ask, smiling at the new nickname.

“It means marshmallow, Printsessa. I think it’s very fitting for you.” He smiles, evidently very proud of himself.

You laugh lightly and nod.

“It’s perfect.”

#pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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cryptiql · 3 years ago

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riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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pumpkin-stars · 3 years ago

Text

Temptation

Thief!Marcus Pike/Fem!Reader

Kinktober Day 6: Deep throat

Word Count: 1635

Warnings/Content: Deep throating, more backstory than necessary, Marcus is the thief, devil/angel vibes, corruption role-play?, ‘punishment’ but not really, dom!Marcus is still a sweetie, gagging/spit.

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There were so many paintings and sculptures held in the Bureau’s processing and archive departments. So many priceless examples of human creativity hidden away where nobody could see them.

Nobody but him and his team, anyway.

Marcus knew it was necessary - to stop the genuine art from going back to people’s homes and galleries before trials, so the thieves wouldn’t know that some part of their operations had been compromised before they could be apprehended…

But it still hurt to think of so many paintings hidden from view. Existing unappreciated in only-just-acceptable conditions for preservation.

Working as the head of the Art Crimes Division had led him to you. A forger. Your work had almost fooled him once or twice, regularly fooled rich people with more money than sense or knowledge of the pieces they were buying.

And to see how easy it was for you to create such fantastic copies of the world’s most magnificent artworks… to learn how you did it… He was fascinated. Sure, they were forgeries, but they were still masterpieces.

He’d taken you into the archives - handcuffed and under his watchful gaze the whole time - and you’d shared his views, lamenting that the art stored there deserved to be on display, it deserved to be appreciated, not locked in storage.

The painting you’d been accused of forging had turned out to be genuine, and despite him knowing for certain that you’d forged many more, he’d let you go.

And a few months later, he found you again. This time with a proposition, not a warrant.

~~~

Swapping one painting for an identical one is a lot easier than movies make it out to be, especially when they’re in Federal custody and you’re one of five people who have free and unrestricted access to them.

But it doesn’t pose much of a challenge. And does mean that after a while, after getting a little greedy, you need more walls to hang the landscapes on, and you need spare funds to pay for a forger’s services.

Marcus developed a lot of second-hand experience with theft over the years. He knew what to avoid doing, what to ensure happened, how the police and FBI worked to investigate. His knowledge of various security systems, and your knowledge of who had what and where made you an excellent team.

Before long, you’d moved into a mansion together, the walls full of stolen masterpieces - the entire East Wing dedicated to your own private collection.

You’d diversified after a while, seeking the thrill of a new challenge, taking sculptures and jewellery and anything shiny that caught your eyes.

He quit his job - hung up his gun and his badge, and the two of you spent your days laughing and fucking in the grand halls of your home, draped in gems of every colour.

He’d abandoned his morals, sold his soul to the devil, and regretted not a single second. Especially now, as he relaxes on a chaise lounge, bowtie undone after another successful night, his black robe with gold and blue flowers over his shoulders, a glass of wine within reach, Saxon crown perched on his curls as he smirks at you.

You stand before him, modelling the night’s haul - a sapphire ring, diamond bracelet and earrings, an ornate silver tiara, and a ruby necklace that sits perfectly around your neck, covers your chest, and dangles so perfectly between your tits. Your dress is discarded on the floor behind you and you spin for him, displaying yourself to his darkening gaze.

“Tell me,” he muses as you step closer, “Would you steal from the devil?”

You smile, “That all depends, Marcus, on what the punishment would be if I was caught.”

He reaches for his wine with one hand, gesturing you ever closer with the other, “Would you like to find out?”

You sink to the floor in front of him, drawing the glass to your lips and taking a sip before leaning into him, kissing him, sharing the alcohol with him as he licks into your mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls away, cupping your cheek with his big palm, holding you with the same delicate touch that cradles the finest jewels in your vaults. “My beautiful angel.”

You smirk, and have to point out, “I’m the one who corrupted you, Marc.”

He shrugs, “Play into the fantasy, sweetheart, just this once?”

You lean up again, kissing him, tasting his smile, and when you pull back to kneel before him, you hold his crown in your hands. “What’s my punishment then, Diablo?”

He grins, sits up properly so you’re between his legs. He takes the crown from you and sets it on the bust behind the chaise, and turns back to you, undoing his fly as his face loses all traces of jest. “I’m going to fuck your throat, Angel. And you’re not gonna touch yourself until I’m done.”

The words go right to your pussy, the wind knocked out of you by such a blunt delivery, a statement of fact rather than any of his usual suggestion - he always, always makes sure you're okay with things before doing them, and you know he’d never do this without your agreement, but unlike other times, his tone doesn’t seem to give you space to argue.

Lucky for him, you don’t want to argue.

“Here?” You smile at him.

“Well there's no point wasting time going all the way across the house to the bedroom,” he shrugs, “Besides, I don’t think you deserve the comfort of a carpet under your knees. This is meant to be a punishment, after all.”

His face softens briefly - just long enough for you to smile at him, nodding your consent. Then his eyes burn into you, their warm brown hidden by the darkness of his dilated pupils. He stands, slipping his pants down to his ankles, boxers following, baring himself to you before lounging back, giving you space to move closer.

“Get to it, Angel.”

You reach for him, resting your hands on his thighs for a moment as he pulls the small bottle of lube from his robe’s pocket - always prepared. You coat your palms with it, stroking him to full hardness, saliva pooling in your mouth in anticipation of getting to reward him for a good night's work even as he ‘punishes' you for the exact same acts.

You can’t decide if you want to look at his cock or his eyes more, but the decision is taken from you suddenly, Marcus’s hand finding your chin and making you look up at him, “I said I was going to fuck your throat.” He reminds you, as if you could forget. “Your hands aren't your throat, Angel.”

“I’m sorry, Diablo.”

“Hmm,” He eyes you, “such a pretty voice. Perhaps I’ll steal it from you? Bruise your throat so you can’t even beg forgiveness…”

“Marcus-“ you whimper.

His brows twitch, checking it’s okay. Your lips turn upward and he smirks - devilishly - “That’s not my name, Angel.”

You swallow hard, and have just enough time to take a deep breath before he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls your mouth over his cock, letting you take your time to suck and lick at him, but keeping you quiet. Your hands move to his knees, bracing yourself against him, ready to give the signal if you need a break or to stop, and you start to bob your head, Marcus’s hand just holding you, not directing you anymore. Not yet.

“Fuck, Angel,” he gasps as you work your way down his length, “You could make anyone a sinner with that mouth.”

You moan around him, and his hand pushes lightly, encouraging you to take more of him, another inch, and another, all the way down until your nose meets the thatch of curls at his base, your senses filled with Him. The smell of his sweat-slick skin, the salty taste of his cock, the sound of his rapid breaths and jagged groans. The feel of him pushing - pulsing - down your throat, your eyes watering as he goes as far as you can comfortably take and then some…

You gag, the sound filling the air as your body rejects the intrusion, but he keeps you still, holding you steady, forcing you to breathe through your nose as his hand pets at your head, soothing and encouraging.

“That’s it, Angel, that’s it. So fucking good, you feel so good on my cock—“

You squeeze his knees, just once, and it's enough for him to pull you up, let you off his cock, though you remain connected - a string of saliva from your lips to his tip - as you gasp for breath.

“Okay?” Marcus asks. You nod, and he waits until you shift forward again before pushing you back down, only taking half his length before he still you. “Keep still, Angel. No touching.”

You hum, run your tongue over the parts of him available to you.

His hands move to your cheeks, keeping you in place, and he starts to move his hips, bucking up into your waiting mouth, fucking your face and your throat - as promised - your gags and groans harmonising with his grunts and gasps, the slap of his balls against his skin and your chin a pulsing baseline to your melody.

All too soon, the crescendo.

Marcus pushing all the way in, his balls drawing up, letting out a strangled cry of your name as he shoots his load straight down your throat, collapsing onto the chaise as his body turns to jelly.

“Thank you, Angel.” He smiles.

You catch your breath, wipe the spit from your chin, attempt to thank him in return. But you can only croak a few wordless syllables.

Taglist: @elegantduckturtle @goldielocks2004 @honestly-shite @irrelevantbutembarrassing @jitterbugs927 @littlemisspascal @mypedrom @pedrostories @princessxkenobi @salome-c @the-little-ewok @what-iwish-you-knew @yours-truly-r

#marcus pike/reader #Marcus pike x reader #Marcus pike/you #Marcus pike x you #the thief #Marcus pike #the thief/reader #the thief/you #the thief x reader #the thief x you #thief/reader #thief x reader #stuffiwrote #tppkinktober2021 #kinktober

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outarizaki · 4 years ago

Text

Lovesick. — Levi Ackerman.

SYNOPSIS: In a world infested with mindless, horrendous human-chomping titans, you’d never expected that Levi taking care of you was how you’d go out.

WC: 2.3k

PAIRING: Levi Ackerman x Reader

GENRE: Fluff

A/N: this is my first time writing for levi/aot in general and just overall my first time in a long time from doing creative writing i hope you guys like it!

In truth, Winter has never been your most favorite time of the year.

After all, those delicious hot meals, thick blankets, and cozy naps by the fireplace always came with a price for you every single year, wherein the same chilly weather that granted you those several pleasures only betrayed you and bit you in the ass annually, reeling you in again and again for recurring nightmarish sicknesses.

For as long as you remember, you’ve never fared well with such drastic change in weather. Ever since you were a little girl, your fevers were sky high enough to make your mother lose at least a year off her life with every time they checked your temperature around the dreaded season.

Thus even now, as a distinguished and mighty cadet in the Scout Regiment, there you lay, thrashing in wrinkled sheets with a spiking fever of 103° Fahrenheit.

It was quite an unraveling series of events. Perhaps you should have let it be known much earlier to your squad and superiors.

Maybe they would have taken your sudden, voracious collapse against a blushing Jean in the mess hall a little less seriously.

You could still recall those same goofy shrieks of surprise from your squad members with a grin. The look on Connie’s face was absolutely priceless.

But as you stared up at the ceiling, sweat beading at your hairline and mouth clammy with dehydration, your mind could only render and wring out the possible reactions that could have emitted from your Captain Levi.

Ever since you joined the squad, you’d been naturally drawn and fond of him. His cold demeanor seemed to be just a thin layer between a complex personality, and as much as you hated to admit, you desperately, secretly wanted to claw underneath that sheen.

It started with one sleepless night in which you brought yourself to the kitchen to rid yourself of your heavy mind with a book, only to find your captain sitting idly with a cup of tea.

You remembered the first encounter, how you babbled apologies like some sort of nitwit and he scowled and waved you off, uttering an, “it’s not like I own the damn room, quit being an idiot and do what you need,” before you dejectedly nodded and took a seat with a book just some feet away from him.

The insomnia seemed to grow only more and more, and a few more awkward nightly greetings later, it became a routine. He slowly began to acknowledge you, humming short replies and holding small talks every now and then.

Then on the field and during training he mindlessly complimented you. In his own way, of course.

A grumble of, “you didn’t get killed,” or, “you didn’t look like complete shit out there,” were some hearty examples of that.

Time went on as you began to loosen up even more around the squad, shamelessly poking fun at your members and joking around with them constantly. Even berating the Captain every now and then with snarky remarks that earned hesitant chuckles and gasps from your team, and even sometimes, if you looked really closely, a smirk from the Captain himself.

So with your poor little heart, ready to yearn, there was a spark of fondness towards him. One you wish would smother before it fanned out even more.

Damn him.

You wondered what he had thought when he saw you faint atop of Jean, that poor boy. How ridiculous you must have looked. How humiliating it must have been.

“God, I could die,” you groan aloud and fling your body on your side, hands coming to grasp at the roots of your scalp.

“That is quite an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

That voice. Speak of the devil.

Instantly, you spring up to meet his gunmetal gaze, hissing at the speed that caused your brain to seemingly rattle in your head with fatigue.

He tsks his tongue, brows furrowing together in an unamused manner as he walks towards the table across your bed. You swallow gently, gaze averting to the tray he holds with a small teapot, one teacup, and liquid medicine. You grimace.

“Oi...” Levi begins without looking back at you. You look to his stature expectantly. “You look like shit,” he says, finally twisting his torso to lock with your gaze.

A breathy, sarcastic laugh escapes your lips.

“Gee, you have such a way with words, Captain Suave,” you croak out with a roll of your eyes before easing your posture, allowing yourself to slouch.

“Don’t call me that.”

With his back faced to you once more, Levi feigns an aggravated grumble, yet the ghost of a grin still resides on his face. You watch in silence as he begins to move around the things on the tray.

You take your time to drink in the sight. His raven undercut, bangs slightly covering his handsome face, his white button-up rolled up at the sleeves showing off his veiny forearms, his black pants and leather shoes, the look of faint concentration on his sculpted face as he pours the contents of the teapot into the cup... and God, his hands. So slender and delicate, his fingers nice and long and—

Shit. What are you doing?

You take a deep breath and compose yourself in time before he turns at you again, bored look on his face as he approaches you with a cup of tea and the tiny bottle of medicine.

“Never thought I’d have to babysit one of my most promising Cadets,” Levi drawls out, handing you the teacup. Your fingers graze against his as you accept it, breath hitching in your throat slightly.

You fight off the gooey feeling by occupying yourself with his crude words.

Scoffing, you take a small sip of your tea, only to frown at the feeling of hotness. Levi’s brow arches in question.

“Who said you had to, Captain?” You say softly. “You’re busy. Why didn’t you ask Sasha to come instead? She would have brought me some good food, too.”

“Stolen you food, you mean. And what? You don’t like my tea?” He husks out, to which you perk up in realization.

Quickly, you shake your head to deny his question. “The tea is lovely. But I’m pretty sure my body is hotter than that teapot, and quite frankly the warmth feels suffocating,” you preach.

“Plus, you’re busy. And I look — indecent. You said it yourself,” you whisper the last part shyly, gulping down another sip of tea.

Levi feels taken aback. Surely you hadn’t taken offense to his comment, right? Brat, he thinks to himself.

“Tea is good for when you’re sick. You’re nauseated. Did you expect us to give you some sweet or cold crap while you have a fever?” He says sharply, squinting slightly.

You chuckle a bit at that.

Waving your hand, you grumble. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you roll your eyes.

“Quit rolling your eyes at me.”

“Quit giving me a reason to.”

“Oh, you want me to give you a reason to roll your eyes back, Cadet?”

Your gaze widens and you feel yourself choke on your tea.

Your arm bolts to set your cup onto the nightstand and you glare up at him. You swear you see the faintest hint of amusement glint in those stupid grey eyes of his.

Suddenly, you’re feeling a little too hot. And you’re sure it’s not your fever.

Levi raises his brows, unimpressed as he leans forward. Slowly, he brings his hand to your forehead and presses his cold fingers against you. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, holding in your breath.

“You’re burning up.”

Wow, I wonder why.

“Yea? Tell me about it. I’m literally feeling all of it as we speak, old man.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation, straightening his back before jolting his arm at you with the bottle expectantly. “You’re better off holding your tongue, Cadet. Now take your medicine.”

Your face scrunches up. He narrows his eyes as you cross your arms and look elsewhere.

“L/N.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“No! It tastes gross.”

His eye twitches at your defiance.

“God, this is like talking to a little kid. Take it or I swear-“

“No.”

“Take the damn medicine. And that’s an order, Cadet.”

You look up at him with a scowl. Hesitantly, you take the bottle before unscrewing it, taking your sweet time until finally you down it reluctantly.

Meanwhile, your Captain stands with his arms crossed, albeit satisfied that you finally listened.

Once it goes down your throat, you gag slightly.

“God, this shit is vile-“

“Language.”

“It’s worse than what we usually take! What is this?”

“Higher grade medicine. I had to ask Erwin and a few of the nurses for even just that small dosage, you damn brat. I need you back on your feet ASAP.”

You blink. He went through trouble just to get you medicine? A fond grin starts to stretch on your lips.

“Thank y-“

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to keep my Cadets at their best,” he practically half-lies through his teeth.

Oh. Right.

You nod, that fluttery feeling slightly dampening at his words. Of course. You’re just a young woman in his squad. His subordinate.

Levi notices. He doesn’t say anything.

“Now get some rest. I’ll clean up your room. It’s filth in here,” He scrunches his nose.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m sick, smarta- I mean, Captain,” you slur drowsily as you plop down onto the pillows. Whatever you took, it was strong.

The look on his face affirms he didn’t take lightly to your potential word vomit, though he allows to let it slide, much to your favor.

Levi groans, tidying up the teacups and the pile of clothes by the baskets, as well as the used bedsheets. He stops to think what in the hell he’s doing, going out of his way to care for one soldier.

He chalks it up to it simply being a better option than the inevitable mountains of paperwork he has to face later. That was it. Right?

A moderate amount of time had passed until he was satisfied with what he’d done. Levi’s eyes avert to your tiny figure on the bed. Laying flat on your back, arms sprawled beside your head, a dreamy smile on your lips.

The man walks up beside your bed. When you suddenly shift your head towards him, he startles a bit.

A breathy, twinkly giggle leaves your mouth as you look up at him. Levi swears he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

You pout playfully, pointing an accusatory finger up at him. “Stalker. Are you here to watch me sleep?” You say almost so incoherently, Levi isn’t sure you’re speaking a language.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at your change of demeanor. So out of character, even for you.

The pout on your lips soon curves into a sleepy grin of your own, and your eyes gloss over with something that makes your Captain’s breath hitch in his throat.

Such gentle, comforting fondness.

When you urge him to get closer, he obliges, slightly bending over your figure despite the rouge in his cheeks. Levi holds his breath as you reach up, fingers threading through his bangs to pull them back.

“You’re pretty when you smile, you know?” You whisper gently, the smile never fading from your obviously far-gone face. “Such a handsome boy.”

Heat rises even more to Levi’s face and he gulps thickly as he watches your arms begin to drop, eyelids following soon after.

A delighted, snoozing hum releases from your throat, and only then does Levi allow himself to breathe.

His eyes glance over you once more.

Soft cheeks, pretty eyes, long eyelashes. The tank top on your torso still allowing you to look like the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. The unruly bed-head hair that sat messily, yet still appearing soft to the touch, making him want to rake his fingers through. Your soft lips, still stuck in that smile. Your flushed face.

Levi sighs dreamily and defeatedly. He brings his hand up to pat at the top of your head.

“Shitty girl,” he says underneath his breath, voice cracking like that of a young boy with an unwavering crush. “You look — decent.”

His brows knit together even more as he thinks it over, finally sighing gently.

“You’re much prettier, Y/N,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

Levi then exits your room, his face still hot with fluster, hands shoved into his pockets, and the giddy feeling in his heart still reigning supreme.

And at the corner of the hall reside the Levi Squad members, spying from afar.

“You owe me your next lunch, Connie. I told you they liked each other!”

“Shut up before he hears you!” Jean scolds quietly.

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind them unexpectedly.

They all freeze. Their blood turns cold. Armin is sure he’s as good as dead.

“Give me fifty laps outside. All of you. Now.”

“Not bad after feeling shitty for so long,” Levi nods at you as you return from combat training for the day.

You smile brightly, eyes twinkling as you catch your breath.

“Mhm. All because of you. Thanks for-“

“Don’t thank me.”

“I said,” you say firmly. “Thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”

Levi can only sigh and nod. “Sure.”

You beam at that, beginning to stride past him, before stopping midway.

“Oh, and Captain?” You begin.

He grunts in response, slightly turning your way with that same stoic expression.

“For the record,” you hum sweetly. “I think you’re the prettiest.”

And with that you walk away with a proud smirk, leaving Humanity’s Strongest with a pounding heart and the reddest cheeks mankind has ever seen.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #levi scenario #aot scenarios #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman fluff #aot fanfiction

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honeytae · 4 years ago

Note

could i request something fluffy with joon like an ice cream date and when the reader orders mint chocolate chip namjoon just doesnt shut up about it lol

Are you telling me I have to choose between you and mint choco?

okay so i absolutely loved this idea lmao. i’m sorry it took a while for me to get this posted, but i really hope you like this, anon!! here we have a grumpy tired joon in the studio so the reader takes him out for a little break and..you know the rest :) thank you for sending me this adorable scenario <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.1k

“Ugh, no.”

At Namjoon’s sudden groan, you glanced over from the opposite side of the studio as he tapped the pad of his pointer finger around the mouse, rapidly moving things around on the monitor in front of him.

Frowning, you placed your phone down onto the coffee table, pushing yourself off the loveseat you’d been reclining on to investigate.

Fingers plucking at your shirt to readjust it from where it had shifted around in your position, you walked across the room to where the man sat, sneaking up behind him to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you folded your fingers over his arm, appendages soothingly rubbing at his bicep as he let out a deep sigh.

You felt Namjoon’s shoulders ease even just the slightest at your touch, tension draining from the muscles as you set your chin atop his head to peer at his computer screen.

“I just don’t know why I can’t make this chorus work.” He sighed, and your heart twisted at his saddened tone.

He sounded genuinely disappointed in himself, something you despised and wanted to wash away immediately.

“You’ll make it work, Joonie. I know you will.” You pressed a kiss to the side of his head, the man letting out another breath as he dejectedly sunk back into his mesh chair.

Feeling the need to step in, you guided his hands off the desk and away from the monitor, smoothing over his long appendages with tender circles of your own.

“I think you need a little break.” You proposed, the man grunting a bit in protest before huffing a breath out past his lips, letting you rub at his stiffened shoulder with a stretch of his neck to give you easier access to the sore spot.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, “you deserve a break. You up for a drive?” You offered, the man shaking his head, palm placing itself onto the back of your hand as he soothed his fingers over your skin graciously.

“I’d love to babe, but I can’t.” He frowned, an expression visible to you by the reflection of his face in the fading computer screen in front of him.

“How about a walk?” You offered, adding when you sensed his hesitation, “Just fifteen minutes?”

You could see him internally debating his options before he seemed to pull the plug, nodding slowly before he began inching his chair back from the desk.

Cheering internally, you walked over to grab his coat from where he’d slung it over the back of the couch upon his arrival hours ago, offering it to him with a smile as he thanked you.

While it always took a bit of persuasion to get Namjoon out during his funks, you had learned over your time with him that he would eventually cave; although a bit stubborn, deep down he knew he needed a break from continuously racking his brain for all the right words.

And it always helped; a little bit of fresh air and non-work related conversation went a long way, his head typically clearing up within a half hour so that he could head back to his desk with fresh ideas.

“Oh, it stopped raining.”

Those were the first words out of his mouth as you both exited the building, peering up at the hazy clouds, eyes squinted at the sun appearing from behind them.

“Did that ruin your romantic fantasy of kissing me in the rain?” You flirted, alluding to the slightly disappointed tone in his voice, the man biting down on his bottom lip to contain his shy smile before he shook his head, turning toward you to pull you into his chest.

“I don’t need rain to kiss you.” He laughed, cradling your jaw in his palm as he brought his lips down to yours, tilting his head to deepen the action only slightly before pulling back with a dimpled grin.

“Romantic enough for you?” He raised his eyebrows, quiet laugh escaping his mouth when you only pulled him back for more.

Leaving chaste kisses on your bottom and top lip, butterflies erupted in your chest when he slid his palm against yours, locking his fingers around your hand as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Yeah.” You exhaled, Namjoon chuckling quietly at your sudden flustered demeanor, smiling fondly as he watched you try to regain control of yourself with a clearing of your throat, nodding your head toward the direction of the sidewalk as you gently tugged him along beside you.

You easily recovered from the moment of weakness, confidently leading him down the street with soft hums escaping your throat as his fingers gripped yours.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face when he noticed the tune of what you were singing; it was the song he’d been working on all day, bits and pieces most likely leaking out of his headphones as he worked only a few feet from you.

Smiling down at your joint hands swinging between your bodies, the sounds surrounding you completely disappeared, only your boyfriend’s soft yet sturdy hold on your appendages registering in your brain. It was just so him.

“Is that an ice cream booth?” He suddenly asked, squinting at a small sign in the distance as you lifted your head, effectively snapped out of your daze as you giggled at him.

Pulling Namjoon by his hand, you took initiative and led the way to the little ice cream shop, the man clumsily stumbling after you with a wide grin.

Wrapping an arm around your waist as you paused to stand in the back of the line, Namjoon set his chin on your head, swaying you side to side absentmindedly as his eyes scanned the list of flavors available.

“What are you getting, babe?” He asked, you humming in response with a slight shrug.

“I’m not sure yet. What are you getting?” You set your head down onto his shoulder to peer up at his face, eyes tracing his features as he blinked at the blackboard menu straight ahead of him.

“Rocky road, I think.” He answered, seemingly debating it in his head for a moment before nodding to himself, satisfied with his decision as he stepped forward to bring you both to the front of the line.

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you guys today?” The man in the vendor smiled, Namjoon giving his order with a polite nod before the man turned his attention to you.

“And what can I get for you?” He smiled kindly, causing you to step forward a bit to see the choices.

“Um,” you squinted at the menu, looking back at the man with a small grin, “mint choco, please.”

Shifting your gaze back to your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his expression, eyes widened and mouth agape in shock.

You had heard him debating his friends on mint chocolate before, expressing his open hatred for the flavor with a passion. And you’d always managed to keep quiet, only sitting back and listening with an amused smile on your face as they bantered back and forth about the topic.

But how could you not take the opportunity to mess with him when it was presented in scribbled green chalk right in front of you?

After all, you never saw a problem with mint chocolate anything. And the look on his face was fucking priceless.

The man continued staring at you in disbelief as you doubled over in front of him, clutching your sides as you wheezed at his face of genuine betrayal at the mere thought of you ordering his least favorite ice cream flavor.

“Wha- how could you?” He asked, smile lifting his lips a tad as you broke out in more giggles at his question.

“It’s good, baby.” You finally caught your breath enough to say, defending your choice as the man shot you another look of disapproval, his eyes widening further at your words.

“It’s good? It’s practically toothpaste!” He said, exasperated as he watched the man come back up to the counter with a rocky road cone in one hand, a green mint chocolate chip one in the other.

Thanking him, you took both of them in your hands, handing your boyfriend’s order over to him with a sly grin.

Walking out of the shop, you nearly snorted at the look on Namjoon’s face as you raised the cone to your mouth, his grimace evitable even from the obscured sight of him from the corner of your eye.

“Mm,” you hummed upon the ice cream meeting your tastebuds, Namjoon rolling his eyes at your exaggerated reaction with a sigh as he paused his steps and lowered himself down onto the bench beside the sidewalk.

“I cannot believe you dragged me out of the studio just to betray me like this.” He sighed, making you laugh again as you settled down beside him, easily melting into his embrace when his arm habitually fell around your shoulders.

“You like me.” You poked and prodded at his chest with your pointer finger along with the childish words, watching your boyfriend’s lips twitch a bit before he regained composure.

“I don’t know, babe. This might be a dealbreaker.” He teased, you humming in response as you licked at the pastel green ice cream once again, Namjoon pulling a scowl as he watched.

“Are you telling me I have to choose between you and mint choco?” You asked after swallowing the sweet cream, chewing on the small chocolate chip left on your tongue.

“I’m telling you that I’m very content in my rocky road bubble over here.” He smirked, raising his chocolate cone in front of his face for emphasis before glancing down at you.

“Good for you. I’m very content in my mint choco bubble, so take that.” You shot back, an amused grin on Namjoon’s face at the banter before he shook his head.

“I cannot believe you’re on that side of this argument.” He sighed, eyebrows pulled together as he watched your tongue swipe at the scoop of ice cream yet again.

“I like being on my side, personally.” You sassily shrugged a shoulder, smirking as your boyfriend scoffed at your smugness.

“The wrong side.” He muttered under his breath, chuckling when you jokingly widened your eyes at him. His dark eyes held contact with your own as a smile slowly filled his cheeks, causing your expression to do the same at the infectious dimples appearing by his mouth.

Squinting at him, you tried to place the source of his sudden change in demeanor, wiping at your lips with the back of your hand for any misplaced chocolate before pulling it away from your face to inspect your skin, clean of any chocolate chip remnants.

“What?” You questioned him, the man chuckling a breath out through his nose as he swept a piece of hair that had been moved out of place by the wind back behind your ear.

“I just can’t believe your one flaw is liking mint choco.” He responded to your confusion, smile widening when you laughed at his words.

“Yeah, and yours is being a mint choco hater.” You joked, your shoe scuffing against the cement as you kicked your foot out in front of you.

He chuckled in response, bringing the softening ice cream cone back up to his mouth again. When he pulled it away, you noticed a dark spot of chocolate gathered at the corner of his lip.

Giggling slightly at the sight, you brought your thumb up to swipe at his skin, the man’s eyes locking with your own as your hand fell back to your lap. The world around you seemed to fade away completely as you began leaning into each other, you throwing caution to the wind by pulling him in by the chin to meet his lips.

It didn’t seem to matter that your mouth definitely tasted like the mint chocolate ice cream you’d been licking at only moments before, Namjoon’s tongue swiping across your bottom lip as if you didn’t taste like something he wholeheartedly despised - or at least claimed to.

You smirked against him as his hand came up to secure the back of your head so that you couldn’t pull away, deepening the kiss with a push of his tongue into your mouth, pulling back to grin at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought mint choco was a dealbreaker, Joonie.” You said, tone smug as you watched the man lift his own ice cream cone to his mouth, effectively hiding his shy grin as he tongued at the chocolate swirls.

“For you, I may be willing to see past it.”

#bts #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts member x reader #bts fluff #kim namjoon fanfiction #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #writing #fanfiction #x reader #fluff

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alicemitch09writes · 4 years ago

Text

first love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: You never forget your first love.

author’s notes: This is what prompted the many angst fics to come in my repertoire. I’ll just to slowly transfer some of my one-shots that are reader inserts here on tumblr.

twenty one pilot’s cover of ‘can’t help falling in love’ really helped me in the writing of this fic. It’s a favorite of mine I keep going back to when writing fics. Reader is a musician, who plays the ukulele and violin and at the time when I wrote this (back in 2017), I was learning to play the uke, mostly for fun.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

Wise men say, only fools rush in

But I can't help, falling in love with you

They moved to Tokyo when she was 8.

And at a young age, she was pretty much a timid and shy girl, always hiding behind her parents whenever in the presence of new people, especially when she was being introduced. She wasn't very good with socializing, always wary and scared that she'd make a horrible impression. And of people, in general. People were generally scary, especially those she was unfamiliar with. She found solace in music, due to her father's influence, who was a music instructor at a university. "When words fail, music speaks." He'd tell her as they played 'Heart and Soul' together on the piano, her mother taking a video of them from the side. And a little while later, by some miracle, she made friends with the local kids �� Tetsurou and Kenma. The two were an odd pair, given Tetsurou's loud and mischievous demeanor being a total contrast to Kenma's quiet and well-behaved and aloofness. Still, they were the best friends she could ever have.

Years passed, and the three were inseparable.

Over time, the two proved to be more trouble than they were worth – Tetsurou, with his never-ending schemes and provocation abilities, and Kenma, with his indifference to the world so long as he was playing his games.

Nothing's changed much of her, other than her ability to keep the dynamic duo grounded. Also, she had her flair for music. Still, she was terribly shy. Though she has a voice, she chose to stick to the background, wanting to be out of the limelight.

Tetsurou would scold her, saying that it was a waste because she had a good singing voice. In which, would make her blush. Kenma would say the same thing even without looking up from his game console. But Tetsurou's words resounded, her heart beating like a drum.

Shall I stay, would it be a sin?

If I can't help, falling in love with you

It was the clichest thing to happen – she fell in love with her childhood friend.

She fell for Tetsurou.

For all his cockiness, his mischievousness, his peculiar affinity with cats (ironic that they attended Nekoma), and his atrocious bed hair – she loved it all.

Of course, she'd never tell him.

She doesn't have the heart to.

Neither will she tell Kenma, being the perceptive boy he was.

Plus, she'd have to go against a throng of his admirers (who made up of about half of the female population, by the way). There was no way she had a chance. And besides, who was she to him but his ever dependable, timid and adorable best friend?

When he bought her a ukulele on her 16th birthday – he knew she had wanted to try to play it for the longest time, she knew that it was simply out of friendship.

For a while, she became the volleyball team's manager. And for a while, she was able to play it cool with her feelings. This was okay, she thought, its better like this.

"This is my best friend, (Last Name) (Name)." he says, wrapping his arms around her neck as he hugged her from behind, introducing her to two players from Fukurodani.

The shorter of the two – Akaashi Keiji, smiles. "Nice to meet you, (Last name)-san."

"Oh! She's so cute!" says the loud boy – Bokuto Koutarou. "Are you sure she's not your girlfriend?"

Tetsurou laughed, chin digging into her head. "I've known her forever, that'll be weird."

"Kuroo, you're hugging her too tight." Kenma says with a frown.

Best friend.

That's all she'll ever be to him.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes, this love was meant to be

It was rare to find Tetsurou at his lowest since he was usually contented with whatever happened. But they lost, unable to secure a spot at nationals.

So when she found him all by himself at the gym, she knew he needed to be cheered up.

Taking her ukulele from her bag, she started playing. Tetsurou looked up just as she started singing. "You with the sad eyes don't be discouraged, oh I realize" she kneeled in front of him, watching him with careful eyes. "It's hard to take courage, in a world full of people; you can lose sight of it all, the darkness inside you, can make you feel so small."

She continued singing to him, feeling her heart beat faster with every line. It was so hard seeing this down, it was so unlike him. He rested his head on his folded arms, eyes closed as she sang. He always loved hearing her sing.

"And I see your true colors shining through," she wished her words reached him. "I see your true colors, and that's why I love you."

For a moment, she choked up. Not intending to say those words out loud, but they were part of the song, and the way she sang it with so much emotion that the look Tetsurou was giving her made her nervous. His golden eyes stared deep into her (eye color) – filled with so much emotion, but she focused on confusion, probably at why she had stopped.

Regaining her composure, she continued. "So don't be afraid to let them show, your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow."

Tetsurou cracked a smile, reaching out to ruffle her hair playfully. "When did you get so cheesy?"

"And when did you become this uncool?" she teased back, slapping his hand away. "Are you feeling better now?"

Sighing, he leaned his back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "A little, but thanks for coming after me."

"It's not the end of the world," she tells him kindly. "and after all, there's next year. Right, captain?"

The look on his face was priceless – clearly not expecting that. But their senpai had already decided, Kai and Morisuke were on it too, as was Coach Nekomata – before it broke into a grin.

His grin was the biggest she's ever seen.

Take my hand; take my whole life, too

'Cause I can't help, falling in love with you

Tetsurou got mad at her, saying painful words to her face.

Furiously, he turned to face her. She took a step back in surprise, clutching her ukulele to her chest. Then her instrument slipped from her hand, landing on the ground with a loud crack. The words coming out from his mouth were hard to bear, and she could just stand there taking it all in.

He didn't mean it really, but the stress and frustrations were just getting to him. She knew that.

"You know nothing. I never want to see your face again." He seethed.

When all was said and done, he up and left.

It felt as though the life was sucked out of her. She couldn't feel anything, she felt too numb to move. It only came as a surprise that she was still there when she found herself sitting on the ground, rocks digging into her skin.

Picking up her ukulele from the ground, she was surprised to find that it was still in one piece. Except for the scratches on the surface, and crack on the rim of the saddle boards. Funny, they seemed like an allegory.

Despite it all, the pain in her heart and Tetsurou's harsh treatment towards her, she found herself smiling. Hot tears streamed down her face, teeth digging unto her lower lip as if to keep her sobs in.

But the pain of it all was too much, she was only human.

Hugging her instrument to her chest, she allowed herself to cry, sobbing loudly, body shaking violently as her heart broke into smithereens.

She heard that they had made it to the semi-finals, being one of the top four schools, which shouldn't be a surprise. Actually, it was secondhand information from Kenma. Right after what happened with Tetsurou, she decided to cut ties with anything associated with him, which was basically everything – the volleyball club, Kenma.

It was something she had to – no, something she wanted to do.

No matter how much it killed her.

"Hey, let's make a little bet. If I win, you go out on a date with me."

"And if I win?"

"You won't ever see me again."

Gentle strums silenced out the lull machines, the dripping of liquids. Faint scents of flowers and fruits hid the overly sanitized room, with walls too white and dull.

"But I can't help," her voice was quiet, low, eyes transfixed to her fingers on each string on her ukulele. "falling in love," a lone tear slips down her face, though a smile graced her lips. "with you."

In front of her, the television displayed the live coverage of the nationals - Nekoma won against Fukorodani, and then lost to Karasuno.

She smiled, hugging her ukulele as tears slipped freely.

The memory of the bet they made when they were younger came to mind, making her smile. That was such a long time ago, Tetsurou probably forgot all about that just as he forgot all about her.

"Don't worry, you won."

Now you won't ever see me again.

He was surprised when they came back to school, she wasn't there. She was the first person he looked for since she was absent during the whole finals match. But she wasn't anywhere to be found – not in the library, the music room, the club room.

He had a promise to keep, and an apology to make up.

So it came as a surprise to him when his classmates' expressions turned grim at the mention of her name. Some had begun to cry, some looked away, nothing was making sense.

But one word was clear to him – cancer.

He turned to his best friend, who met his gaze. For the first time in his life, he saw anger in those usually stoic eyes. He knew then that he knew, he always knew. There was also pain, pain for his best friend's condition. And for (Name)'s sake, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Without a word, he ran, as fast as he can, ignoring the calls from his classmates, teachers, teammates. He had to get to her. He had to apologize; he didn't mean what he said. He wanted to see her, hold her, tell her he was stupid and an idiot-

But he was already too late.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #nekoma #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #hq fic #hq angst fic #angst fic #alicemitch09 writes

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beskarberry · 4 years ago

Text

Star-crossed

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 11

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.k oh no

Content warnings: Major angst, nightmares, premonitions, auditory hallucinations, unsavory parental figures, paranoia, domestic disputes, child endangerment, violence. No smut in this one, the only thing getting fucked in this chapter are our feelings.

A/N: This one hurt to write, there were definitely some tears shed while putting this together this so fair warning do not expect this one to end well. :(

High above the metal decking of the engine room, you were elbow deep in an exhaust port, clearing away the slag to replace one of the durasteel plates that had started to warp from the excess heat. You were singing, as you always did when you worked; a vulgar, brassy shanty that was almost louder than the reciprocating scraper in your hands. You spat and wiped a wayward chunk of grease from your mouth, the taste of it oily and burnt. No matter how many times you’d been taught the lesson of ‘keep your mouth closed’ you couldn’t help it. Whenever you worked, you sang.

Raucous as a mudhorn in heat and louder than a full grown krayt, your songs were a favorite of your unit, and the chief of engineering would often come stand a while and listen; though the moment he was caught eavesdropping he would scold you for not working harder. Tough love is what he called it. He was yelling at you now from far below at the base of the hyperdrive engine, and you pushed your goggles up your grime-smeared face to see him.

Bilgerat! Get’cher ass down ‘ere, posthaste!

Yessir!

Now you were standing in front of the chief, though there was another man standing there too. Tall, thin and pale with eyes like a dead fish and a tight, steelset jaw. You didn’t recognize him, but he looked important, his lapel shining with the badge of a high-ranking officer.

You there, girl, sing.

Sir?

Don’t argue with me, child, I heard you from three decks over. Sing.

Being watched made you nervous, but you did as you were ordered. You sang something, maybe everything, either way the stranger watched you, no, judged you, his eyes never leaving your face. The dead-eyed man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but you had already stopped watching him, caught in your song, powerless against the siren song that was your own voice.

It always felt so good to let loose, your voice could set your soul free, and yet it also felt like it was pulling something in. Something greater than yourself, flowing through you, connecting you to every living thing that ever was or ever will be. Your boots were firmly stuck aboard the starship called the Wyvern’s Tongue, but your songs carried your heart to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to worlds beyond your durasteel home.

The humming is what woke Din up, though he hadn’t slept much through the night anyway, too suspicious of the artifact he had found aboard his ship. Fully armored, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall of the borrowed quarters he had stood guard over his tiny clan, dozing in and out of restless sleep.

He lifted his helmeted head to zero in on the noise you were making. It was one he was familiar with, you often hummed in your sleep, it was something he loved about you. The warm, wavering sound coming from the floor where you had made a nest of quilts for yourself was comforting, but tonight something about it seemed off.

He watched you sleep, noticing the way that your fingers twitched and your legs kicked behind you slightly. It wasn’t like you to be so energetic, so distressed. Clutched to your chest the foundling purred softly, but you didn’t seem to hear him. Your hums turned to whimpers, making the Mandalorian’s blood run cold.

She’s having a nightmare.

She’s perfect. I’ll take her.

But sir, she’s m’best bilgie. How’ll I-

Is that insubordination I hear, Chief Wellers?

N-no Cap’n Forescythe. She’s all yours.

Good. Come along, little sparrow, your talents are being wasted here.

You remember being so scared, looking to your chief for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Though you’d lived aboard the Wyvern’s Tongue since she had left Corellia’s port you’d never actually met the captain. The starcruiser was well over a thousand meters long and home to hundreds of crewmates, putting bilgerats far below the captain’s sphere of influence. What did he want from you?

Each step you took in your dream you got taller, your strides lengthening as you grew from a gangly teenager to a young woman. You were at the bridge now, being sat in a stiff but comfortable chair. You were taught to relay orders, delegate operations, interpret incoming transmissions and their origins. It was a station high above your birthright, but you were never one to turn down a challenge, and you bullied your way to excellence; much to your captain’s pride.

Captain Forescythe was usually described as a cold, unforgiving man, but he treated you remarkably well for a boat-brat dug up from the scuppers, much to the disdain of his fellow officers. He told you that you were a natural talent, gifted by the Maker with a voice so strong, so beautiful, almost like he revered you for it. Much like the ship's namesake, the Wyvern’s captain lorded over you like treasure, jealousy guarding you like a priceless jewel.

The captain’s precious little pet.

Sing, my little Sparrow.

Unable to spectate any longer, Din crawled over to you, brushing an armored hand over your sweat-streaked face. “Mesh’la? Are you alright? Wake up cyare, you’re having a nightmare.”

Wake up.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Once where a beautiful, peaceful world had once been there was now only dust. The Death Star your ship was escorting had succeeded in her mission, and you had been graciously allowed to watch as the mechanical moon obliterated a billion lives as one would exterminate a nest of roaches. Around you your crew cheered, hooray for the Empire! Death to the Resistance! But you couldn’t hear them.

You heard screaming.

Clawing at your ears and squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to make it stop. As if millions of voices were funneling directly into your skull.

You ran. Ran through the labyrinthian hallways, ran as fast as you could to your quarters. Even your blankets would not protect you, the wailing only growing louder.

Murderers! Monsters! You killed us! Why? Why why why!

You ran from your tiny room, backpack slung over your shoulder, filled with what few things you owned. Ran all the way to the hangar. You’d worked on interceptors a thousand times before when your hands were still small, when you could weasel your way into the narrowest of spaces and prove yourself worthy of not getting jettisoned. Knife in hand you unlocked the security protocols easier than picking your teeth, and the hangar fell away beneath you.

Turning back one last time to glance at the artificial home you had known for so long you saw a figure standing there. Was it the captain? Had he come to stop you? Stop his precious Sparrow from flying away?

No. They were blue, flickering in and out of corporeality. Their face took up your entire mindscape now, their features ever changing, like you were looking at more than one face at a time. The eldritch being’s eyes bored through yours, shifting rapidly from those of a man to those of a child to those of an elder, a hundred lives all demanding to be seen at once. Their mouth did not move when it spoke.

“i̴͊̎t̴'s̸̉͋ ̵͋c̸͑ȏ̸̕m̸͐͛i̸̽͘n̷̾͂ǵ̵”

You sucked air like your lungs had never known oxygen, nearly launching the foundling into orbit as you bolted upright. Beskar burdened arms coiled around you the next second, and you stung your knuckles on his armor trying to fight him off in your panic.

“Ger’off’a me! It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Cyare! Stop! You’re having a nightmare, it’s ok I’ve got you!” Battleborne muscles held you tight against a cold plate of steel while you thrashed until you were coherent. Husband. You let your body relax against your oathsworn and wept, deep, heaving sobs that tore your throat apart and crackled your ribs. Soft shushing noises came through Din’s modulator next to your ear, but the cold metal of his armor brought you little comfort.

“I-I’m s-s-sor-ry.” You stuttered into the fabric of his cowl, the roughhewn cloth soaked with tears. Strong fingers carded through your dampish hair, still not dried all the way from your shower only a few hours ago. Din pressed his palm against the back of your head, burying you in the crook of his shoulder where he could protect you from whatever had scared you. The yellowed tips of his gloves bumped against your unburdened ear cuffs with each pass of his hand, but the leather scraping the metal couldn’t drown out the whispers that still oozed from your thoughts.

Why why why why why why...

“It’s alright, cyar’ika, I’m here. Grogu’s here.” Without tearing your eyes away from the safe haven of his cloak you groped blindly for the baby, finding the disheveled youngling and pulling him in tight. “Can you tell me what happened?” Din asked, his modulated voice soft with worry. You shook your head against your partner. “Alright, that’s ok.”

-ỉ̶t'̸͑̋́̂s̸ ̵̝͕̏̀͠͝c̷̬͙̃̽͌̑̊o̷̅͑̓̈́m̴̧͓͈̭̃͂́̽͌͑ǐ̶̓̕n̷̓̋̚g̵͕͙͎͊̀͊̽!̶̑̀-

You gasped and pulled away from your husband’s comfort, eyes wider than moons, pupils shrunken to pinpoints. Gloved hands found your face, cupping your cheeks and trying to get you to look into his hidden honeywells that were searching your eyes. Unblinking, you looked right through him.

“Can you hear that?” You whispered, your voice far, far away.

“Hear what?”

-I̴̭̊̚͘͘T̷́̽̕S̴̔̅̈́ ̸̋C̸̀͋Ỏ̸̉̄͝M̸̐͂I̶N̷̽͗̈̌G̵͓̎̈̊̀͛͘͠!̶!̷̤̏-

“That!” you shrieked, making both your boys jump. You clawed at your ears, though you knew that wouldn’t help, the voices were coming from inside. “I-I have.. I have to go! I have to go now!” You tried to spring up off the floor, but your arm was caught in the iron grip you knew and trusted, keeping you at your knees. “I have to warn Alewyn!”

“Cyar’ika what are you talking about? Warn her about what?”

The phantom voice wailed again, and you doubled over from the force of it, sending a fresh wave of tears down your face. Din was getting scared now, his eyes wide with worry behind the visor, his throat bobbing around dry swallows. You’d never woken up like this before, so distraught and inconsolable, and it was making him feel helpless. He couldn’t put binders on your emotions, grapple with your fears, slay your inner demons.

“Let go!” You roared and flew from his grasp, tripping over your faceplate and the pile of quilts as you blasted out the door, sprinting down the Sunskate’s curving corridors towards the bridge with your foundling stuffed under your arm. Haunting voices chased you through the halls, making you deaf to the armored thunder that was following dutifully behind.

You charged through the bulkhead to the bridge, nearly busting the durasteel door off its hinges when you flew through it, skittering to a halt in front of the viewport. With wild eyes you searched the void, ignoring the concerned questions that were being asked of you. Where is it where is it where is it?! From corner to corner you scanned, locking your red-rimmed eyes on every flicker, every spark.

Nothing.

Nothing for miles.

Slowly you became aware of those around you, the soft leather gloves of your mate pulling on your face and the warm but worried voice of the Sunskate’s captain.

“Cyare?”

“Tra’laar?”

“Patu?”

Your legs gave out under you and you let yourself be caught in the steelbound arms of your husband, the two of you sinking to the floor with the foundling still locked to your chest. Terror replaced itself with scalding embarrassment, making you bury your unblinking eyes in the foundling’s forgiving tummy. Your eyelids wouldn’t close no matter how hard you willed them to, because they knew that somewhere, out there,

Was a dragon.

“What’s wrong with her? Did you do something to upset her?!” Alewyn hissed, becoming defensive of her ill-begotten rescue.

“No! She had a nightmare, I think. Cyar’ika whatever it is, it’s not real. There’s nothing out there, come back to me, please.” Mando’s loving pleas and careful touches went unrecognized, no matter how diligent they were.

What finally drew you back to reality was the gentle pat pat pat of fat baby paws on your face. You turned your wilted gaze to the foundling, the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable only growing stronger and more painful. “I-I’m s-sorry, Goober, you s-sh-sh-shouldn’t have to see me like-”

Pap.

Baby beans smacked you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes, making you furrow your brow. “What are you- oh.” Your eyes slid closed, and a warm peacefulness breezed through you, exorcising the whispering voices between your ears. You took a deep, somewhat stuttered breath and let go, feeling whatever weird baby magic the foundling possessed flow through you. The night terror faded to the back of your mind, dissipating like mist until it evaporated entirely from your thoughts.

“Thank you…” You whispered, nuzzling the baby’s chubby belly. Heart rate steady and breath even, you leaned back against the man who was still holding you up. Din rested the edge of his helmet on the top of your head and hummed, a low, brassy tone, sounding relieved. Where his hands were wrapped around your sides you felt the slow roll of his palms, warm and protective. “I’m sorry, Mando, Alewyn, I don’t know what came over me...”

“S’all right, missy, t’ain’t the first time I’ve seen someone go wailin’ through the halls. We all have our burdens to bear.” Alewyn combed a dainty hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “Good thing them boys’ve gotcha though.” She glanced between the visor of the Mandalorian that was coiled so defensively around you and the little green baby you held so dearly. “I can tell they love ya.”

You nodded sheepishly and let Din help you to your feet, his hands never leaving you lest you waver. Angrily you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to cover your shame as the three of you walked back to your room. When the bedroom door closed behind you, you went straight for the porthole window, cautiously searching the stars again.

“What are you looking for?” Din asked hesitantly, “What… what were you dreaming about?”

“Um. I had a dream we were… under attack.” You lied, your eyes still locked to the void. If you could help it, the secrets of your past would someday die with you, though by the sounds of the whispers you had heard not even death could keep its mouth closed.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare, I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do for you?” Din the ever-thoughtful asked, draping a quilt over your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from where you had been sleeping on it, the weight of it reassuring on your back. You shook your head. He glanced at the back of one vambrace, “We’re still another hour from the station, why don’t we get our things packed and back on the Crest? Would that be ok?”

It was better than going back to sleep, you didn’t trust your own thoughts not to terrorize you again, and you nodded enthusiastically. Din didn’t allow you to lift a finger while he zoomed around the little room, collecting your armor and laundry and then you, scooping you and the foundling up in his arms.

“Put me down, tinman, I’m not helpless!” you chided with a weak little laugh.

“There’s my girl. Nope, I’m carrying you. Deal with it.”

You sighed in a heavy, mocking tone, covering your face with your mask like a shy child while he proudly tromped back to the hangar to where your immobile home lay. Once you were all lifted up the half-hanging ramp you dropped graclessly onto a crate with a huff. You were beat, but it felt nice to be back in your ship, the familiarity adding to whatever calming effect the foundling had used. The little green terror was drowsy in your arms, spent from using his wild baby powers to vanquish your demons. You kissed his wrinkly little head and swaddled him in the quilt Din had accidentally stolen for you.

Tinman was digging through the larder, looking for something for breakfast and found a pack of biscuits to give you. Though the suspicious item he still carried in his pocket had kept him sleepless, the need to care for his loved ones overrode every other instinct, making him forget it for the time being. You weren’t hungry, if anything you were nauseous from your night terror, but Din was insistent; and you nibbled on a bright blue macaroon, splitting bites with the sleepy baby.

Eventually a soft beeping chimed from the Mandalorian’s vambrace, stationfall in fifteen minutes. Outside the ship you heard a holler, and you strode to the ramp to find Alewyn and Lilah, ready to bid thee farewell.

”Alright, so!” Alewyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Here’s the dealy-o. The Sunskate can’t actually… dock with the station. M’good ole dad’s still got hunters on the loose, never know when they’ll turn up, eh?” She laughed. “Your ship’s gonna have’ta dock on’er own, but Lilah’s patchwork should hold ya together long ‘nough for the service droids’ta pick ya up.”

You ignored the loud, audible groan from behind you. “I think we can manage that.” You started to hop down off the ramp, but the spry Togruta was already climbing up into the Crest, barreling you over. Alewyn the Affectionate squeezed your ribs so hard you felt the air leave your lungs, making you grunt ugly. One of her nimble hands disappeared from you into her many secret pockets, then snuck into one of yours, leaving a sizable weight of credits behind. “Wynnie!” you hissed against her montral, “Not again!”

“S’least I can do, since we nearly ripped that old bucket’a shit in half and you spared another spacer from the slab.” She held you out at arms length, bobbling her montrals at you with an arrogant grin. “Take care’a yerself, missy. And you too, Mando! Be good to this woman’n’er son or so help me!” The princess raised a fist at him that turned into an outstretched hand. He shook it hesitantly, but the lavender lady reeled him in, and you giggled at his hover-hands while she squeezed the life out of him.

Lilah helped her wife down from the ramp, and the two of them waved before hefting the ramp closed, sealing you inside with your crew. You dashed up the ladder to the cockpit, looking for a horn to honk but there wasn’t one, giving you another item to add to your mental grocery list. Din followed you up with Grogu in tow, taking his seat in the captain’s chair.

The Sunskate’s hangar jaws slid open slowly, pulling a blue force field over the stretch of stars. Far ahead you could just barely make out the shiny little dot where the station was, glittering just a little brighter than the stars themselves. With the cockpit door tightly sealed, Din carefully started up the old gunship, and on instinct you covered Grogu’s ears to protect him from the inevitable backfire.

The Razor Crest sputtered to life and slowly floated out of the hangar door, relying more on inertia than propulsion to get her towards the station. Out the window you saw the enormous rayship that had carried you here bank away from you, the starlight glittering briefly on her copper-colored belly before her propulsion engines flared back to life, and soon enough she was nothing more than a comet streaking through the void.

Din fussed with the radio transponder, opening up a hailing frequency that would alert the attention of the station droids, and it wasn’t long before a large transport unit was making its way to you. The automatic taxi magnetized itself to the roof of the Crest, easing the strain off of your damaged engines.

A robotic voice beeped through the comms: “THANK YOU FOR CHOS-ING EL-GON AU-TO-MA-TED SER-VI-CES. SMILE-Y FACE. CO-MEN-CING TRANS-PORT TO HAN-GAR SEV-EN-TEEN FOR EV-AL-U-A-TION AND RE-PAIR. HAVE A NICE DAY. SMILE-Y FACE”

Din groaned, his fists creaking on the steering wheel. “Why’s it gotta be droids…”

You shrugged in your chair. “Elgon’s old as dirt, prob’ly older than the Crest. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything on it that wasn’t animatronic.”

“Great.”

Ahead of you, the station dominated your viewport, humming with a myriad of activity. A neutral starport, Elgon boasted service to any and all as long as they had coin in their pockets, regardless of their commendations or crimes. You’d been to the old outpost many a time, both on your own and while you still wore a uniform, and excitedly you remembered a particular sweets shop that used to operate in the center.

Your service droid was nearly at the station now, approaching a large closed hangar with the number seventeen painted on it in orange Basic. You playfully kicked at the side of the pilots’ seat where Din’s butt was unguarded by the arm rests. “You excited to get fixed up, bucket boy?”

He nodded, he was ready to get back on the trail towards the last bounty. The thought of hunting again reminded him of the Imp device in his pocket that still mystified him, reigniting buried suspicions. I should ask her about it, maybe she knows what it is. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you while you were showering, or when you were getting ready to sleep, so being the polite riddur he decided he would bring it up with you in the morning.

Din reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the mechanical spider, ready to pull it into the light when the hangar doors opened.

Revealing a blizzard of white duraplast.

“Oh fuck.” Your collective hearts went through the decking at the sight before you. There, swarming the station proper were dozens of Imperial stormtroopers, their eggheads covering the hangar like dirty snow. “Get down!” you hissed at Din who was already two steps ahead of you, sliding out of the pilots seat and under the dashboard. You tore the faceplate off of your crown and stuffed it into his hands along with Grogu and caged your two boys in with your knees, determined to keep anything mando-factured out of sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Din spat, slamming his fist on the floor. “This station is supposed to be neutral territory! We need to turn around, we can not stay here!”

Under you the Crest swayed gently in the droid’s grasp before being lowered onto a maintenance skiff, the hoversled bouncing slightly from the weight of your ship. Desperately you threw levers and pushed switches, trying to get the Crest to restart, but her engines were long gone, the turbines spinning almost mockingly slow. You weren’t going anywhere.

The comms light lit up on the dashboard with a soft chime, and on reflex you went to answer it when Din grabbed your leg. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made ‘what-choice-do-we-have’ hands at him, “Dude we are fucked unless I answer them, I-I speak their language, I can get us through.”

“Yeah? So do I.” He hissed from the floor, smacking the side of his thigh where his firearm hung.

“-Ksst!- hush! I’m handling this.” You straightened your shoulders and set your jaw straight before flipping on the receiver.

The holoprojector lit up in front of you with a tiny stormtrooper. “Identify yourself.”

“TK number SPW dash seven-zero-four-two, engaged in dogfight planetside and in need of repairs.”

“Why isn’t your ship running a beacon, soldier?”

“It's pre-empire surplus, it doesn’t have one.”

“What are you doing flying around in such a relic?” The stationmaster said with a bite of suspicion.

“...Budget cuts.”

They chuckled. ”No kidding. Alright then, what’s your designation?”

Shit, uh... “Prisoner transport unit.”

“Roger. Stand-by for transportation to engineering bay and prepare for inspection.”

The trooper winked out of existence, and you started to sigh with relief when the hand on your boot yanked you down to the ground.

“Prisoner transport unit?!” He rasped once you were at visor level with him on the floor. “Could you have come up with something else?!”

Unwillingly, your lips curled back and bared your teeth at his hateful tone. “There’s a shitload of guns and a goddamn carbonite freezer down in the hold, we’re not exactly delivering cookies. We need to get you two hidden before we get to the mechanics, come on!”

Din watched you drop through the ladder hatch with his heart in his throat, the fluttering organ violently trying to break out of his ribs. The Maker must think this is hilarious. After everything I’ve done to keep this kid away from the Imps we’re just going to go knocking on their fucking door. Everything was stacked against him. He was tired from lack of sleep, he was scared for the safety of his clan, and to top it all off he was becoming more distrustful of the microchip by the second; the mounting tension he emanated filling the cockpit like carbonite fog.

Maybe it’s a tracking device?

That… might make sense. Elgon station was out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, why else would a shitload of Imps be here if not to capture him and his crew? To take his son? Through the night he had grown suspicious of the item he had found, and a nagging thought had seeded itself in his frontal lobe, one that he refused to give audience.

What if it came from her?

No, that’s stupid. That’s your riddur, she’s obviously not an Imp. He reasoned, slowly soldier-crawling his way to the hatch with his son and your armor in tow. It must have been in the coral already, or come from one of the pirates, maybe they planted it here. But if that’s the case then we’ve been handed right over into a trap. He lept down the ladder with Grogu squashed under his arm, watching you fly around the cabin looking for an acceptable hiding spot for your foundling and a full grown Mandalorian.

Time started to move in slow motion as it usually did for him when he was sizing up quarry. What did her puck say, before I decided not to turn her in? He ran through his mental rolodex, digging for your file. Ex hunter. Guild dissenter. Bribed out of high-profile bounty. Now that he had met the high-profiler for himself he really couldn’t blame you, though it was suspicious that you had returned from the bridge one bounty short after speaking with Alewyn in private.

Alewyn. Princess-turned-pirate, a renegade royal that had made a name for herself literally ripping ships down from the sky. Hunter ships in particular. Awful convenient for her to be right in our line of travel to a station full of Imps out in the middle of fuckall nowhere. He froze, his visor locked to your frantic form. As if…

As if she was waiting for us.

The corners of his lips bared his teeth to no-one behind his visor as the distrust he had sown in his own heart dug its claws in deep. This has been a trap from the beginning! She’s been playing the long con since Tatooine. In his other hand he held your betrothal gift, the beskar faceplate that he had presented to you when you swore your vows. It reflected his own visor back to him, the hazy lighting of the cabin shimmering on the mudhorn embossed on the brow. No… that’s not it… that’s not true, she loves you…

Right…?

Or… so she says. His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you.

He’d caught you so easily on that dirtball of a planet, too easily for a hunter of your stature. You’d practically tossed yourself into the arms of a complete stranger, assumed the role of the child’s caregiver without question. Agreed to marry him after barely a month.

Grogu made a sniffling noise under Din’s arm, gaining both of his buir’s attentions. His nebulous eyes were beginning to moisten, threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. Instantly you ran to your baby’s defense. “Hey buddy boy, what’s wrong?” You carefully took the baby from Din, hugging him to your chest and making the tiniest sob bubble out of his nose. “No no no it’s ok, please don’t cry sweetheart!”

“He’s scared.” Din growled in a manner not at all comforting. You glared at the indomitable mountain of metal, offended that he would use such a tone in front of his own son. “He knows when there’s a threat nearby.” Under you the Crest wobbled slightly, signaling the start of her trek to the engineering bay. Tick tock.

“Fuck! Can you get in a storage crate?” you asked frantically, bouncing Grogu on your hip to get him to quiet down. The baby could sense the mounting anxiety radiating off of his buir, and was getting himself spun up into a fresh panic. His cries devolved into sobs, making the hull echo with despair. “Shh.. it’s ok! Baby boy please, we can’t do this right now!”

“Too obvious.”

“Ok, the sleeping cubby? The lockers? C’mon Mando work with me!”

“They’ll tear this ship apart the second it hits the bay. There’s no hiding. That’s it, we’re done for.” Din tossed up his hands and made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, some kind of strained laugh, the husk of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You knew that sound, it was the sound of acceptance, of defeat.

Like fuck you were giving up. You made to retaliate when something past his shoulder caught your eyes. Expecting you to fight with him he stopped his pacing and glared at you, then followed your eyes to the carbonite freezer. He whipped back around, gawking at you like you’d grown a second head. “Oh fuck no.”

“We are out of options!” you nearly screamed, “I can’t just cuff you, there’s no guarantee that they won't take you and Beans hostage, freezing you would be safer. I-it would only be for an hour or two, tops, just to pass inspection! That thing can unfreeze, right?”

“That is not the point!” Din bellowed, “You are suggesting not only to freeze me but to freeze him as well?” Din jabbed a finger at the baby, a rush of emotions threatening to boil his bucket right off his head. He widened his shoulders, broadening himself so large that he seemed to encompass the entire ship, glossy black eye turning dark and hateful on you. He couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself any longer. “You… has this been your plan all along?”

You balked, “Plan? Plan for what? The hell are you-”

He threw your beskar on the floor and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the wall opposite the freezer and making Grogu scream out in terror. Mando’s visor took up your entire field of view, reflecting with your own wild eyes. “Your plan to capture us!” He barked, the malice overflowing like an erupting volcano. “You told that Imp that this was a prisoner transport unit. We don’t have any prisoners on this ship unless you’ve had them since the beginning.”

“Are you out of your fucking bucket?!” You spat back at him, “You think I want to put you in carbonite?! Put my son in carbonite?! There’s nowhere else on this ship to hide you!”

“How convenient.” The joints in your shoulders popped from the force he was applying to them, his weight nearly fusing you with the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” Over you the lights began to flicker, though neither of you saw it with your eyes locked on each other; yours filled with pain and anger, his visor pinning you down as if you were quarry.

At the sound of your pain the tension on your shoulder bones eased slightly, but not enough to let you free of the wall. Scalding shame burnt its way across his face, bitter and stinging. He was hurting you, the one thing he swore never to do to you again, the very first oath he had promised.

You chewed the side of your cheek, trying to steady your words. “Din. I love you. I love Grogu! I lied to that Imp to protect you. I don’t want those rotten eggs to have you, how could you even think that of me?”

She lies. One thing that Din knew about you was that you were unquestionably good at was putting on a ruse, able to sweet-talk quarry or lure droids to their deaths. But the way you took to the comms was different, how you were able to use the Imps own terminology against them, even how you spoke to the pirates before you were ‘rescued’ was delivered with flawless diction. It was too perfect, too natural...

As if that was your real voice.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” He growled, digging armored claws into the flesh of your shoulders, making you suck air through your teeth. Defensively you coiled your arms around Grogu, burying his wrinkly little head against your chest where he would be safe from the man you thought you trusted. Fire cascaded out from under Din's helmet, trying to burn you at the stake. “You told me once that I don’t know you.” His helmet tilted like a serpent poising to strike, words dripping with venom. “But I should have known an Imp when I saw one.”

“I am not an Imp!! That’s not who I am any MORE!” Bulbs exploded around you at your words, glass and sparks raining down from above. The strength of your thundering roar broke the delicate machinery in Din’s helmet, causing his audio intake to screech with feedback. Immediately his hands left your shoulders and went to his ears, trying to protect himself from the horrible noise.

The let-up was all the invitation you needed, and you dropped yourself low; catapulting into Din’s chest plate like a linebacker and knocking him into the freezer. You kicked your faceplate between his boots, thrust Grogu into his arms and punched the activator on the wall, tears flowing hotly down your face. As the fog billowed outward Mando wrapped himself around the foundling, as though his impenetrable armor could protect the child from the nightmare of being frozen alive.

Horrified, you watched as the two creatures you loved most were consumed by the mist, leaving a dark block in its wake that bore their likeness. The metal was already ice cold to the touch when you ran your hand over the glaring curve of your husband's visor, and down to the terrified, tear-streaked face of your baby.

Choked sobs tore at the back of your throat, trying to drown you with guilt. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry my loves, I… I did what I had to do. You weren’t given time to process your grief, nearly jumping out of your skin when plasticast fists rapped on the access door with authoritarian vigor. Composing yourself to the best of your abilities, you stuck your finger down the barrel of your blaster, scraping off the dark residue and smearing it under your eyes to hide your welted cheeks.

Glass crunched under your boots as you made your way through the dismembered cabin to the wall panel, punching the buttons with shaky hands. The ramp chuggered and stopped halfway down, but it was down far enough for you to make visor contact with the platoon of troopers who were demanding your attention. Their armor was clean, freshly moulded and recently polished. These weren’t just the Empire’s soggy leftovers, these were new recruits.

Disgracefully hopping down from the ramp among a scurry of pit droids you puffed up your chest and squared your shoulders as you had seen your partner do whenever he was intimidating quarry. You crossed your arms behind your back in parade rest, watching as a painted trooper strode up to you, his rifle pointed at the floor near your feet.

“Stand aside, we have orders to search this ship.”

“Whose orders?”

“Elgon Station is under the Imperial jurisdiction of Admiral Forescythe, no ships in or out without search.”

You felt all the blood in your body evaporate at the name. Forescythe. Shit balls of hell, that fucking bastard is still alive?!

“Is that really necessary?”

The rifle in his hand rose just slightly. “You got something to hide?”

“No, sir.” you said sweetly, hoping politeness would buy you brownie points.

“Stand aside then.” The trooper barked, gesturing to your ship with the barrel of his rifle. You jumped when the heavy access ramp hit the ground, turning to glare daggers at the droid that had unfastened the damaged hydraulics. The stormtrooper marched past you up the ramp, inspecting the interior of the cabin as he went. As predicted, he nudged the lids of the supply crates open, pointing his gun at any would-be threats. Another pair of eggheads followed inside, rudely stomping through the Crest’s belly like they owned the place.

The painted trooper made loud, gross sniffing noises. “Smells like carbonite in here, your freezer might be leaking, better get that checked out…” He trailed off when he clocked the machine and its contents, taking big strides towards it. “Lookit that, Is that an actual mando? I didn’t even think they were real, I’ve only ever heard stories.” He gestured to you with his gun, “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked coldly.

“How’d you catch him? And his... weird dog?” The trooper tapped harshly on the solidified metal that covered your foundling's eyeball, making your blood pyroclast through your veins, but you remained composed.

“I’m more dangerous than I look.” You seethed, digging your nails into the skin of your arms behind your back. And you’re about to find out just how fucking dangerous if you don’t back off!

One of the unpainted soldiers piped up. “Do you think this is the one they’ve been looking for? The one the Admiral was talking about?”

“Could be, I’ll radio the Wyvern when it makes stationfall, should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours.” Cotton seemed to grow in your mouth at his words, making it impossible to swallow. No, it can't be.

-ī̶̱̩͋t's̴̈̅ ̵̛̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷ŏ̷̐̓͑ṁ̸͌̋̾̕in̵̨͎̩̠̼͂͜g̷͑̔.-

Shut up. The commander jabbed his rifle at you. “I heard someone say that mandos never take their helmets off, we should unfreeze it and see what it looks like.”

“No.” You barked, making the soldiers flinch. Haha. “He’s very dangerous, even under the effects of hibernation sickness he can still be quite lethal.”

“There’s three of us and only one of it.” A rifle was pointed your way, “Thaw it out.”

Like hell. “Alright, then I won’t have to be the one to explain to the Admiral why a Mandalorian is loose in the station, or dead. I’ve heard he’s a reasonable man.”

The three troopers looked at each other with questioning glances, suddenly unsure. That seemed enough to deter them, and you waited while the troopers barked orders at the repair droids, ordering them to get your ship fixed up. A battalion of robots swarmed the Razor Crest inside and out, almost making you thankful Mando wasn’t there to blast them full of holes. The greasy robots would make quick work of the damage, and hopefully have you out of the station before the Wyvern arrived.

The Wyvern. You wanted to curl in a ball and die. Of all the bullshit the galaxy had to offer it had decided that you deserved a double helping of unwanted nostalgia. Not only was the Wyvern’s Tongue still operational she would be bringing with her good old Admiral Forscythe, though last time you saw him he was just a captain.

Your captain.

And he was on his way.

To this station.

To your ship.

To you.

Oh fuck.

Immediately you turned to your partner for reassurance, only to meet his frozen stare. You wanted to release him, let him carry you safely away from this place, but you weren’t out of the woods yet; so you were both going to have to wait. You’d never been frozen, thank the Maker, but you’d heard stories. How being frozen is like being trapped alive, trying to breathe but not being able to move your lungs. Still being conscious but feeling your blood stop in your veins. A living death.

A waking nightmare.

Repair droids swarmed your ship’s interior like a hive of bees, but they were making quick work of the damage and would hopefully be gone soon. Shaky legs carried you back over to the carbonite freezer, and you leaned heavily on the block of frozen metal, stretching your arms around it in an attempted hug. I wish you were here, my love, but it will be over soon.

You pressed a kiss to both of your boy’s faces and slumped to the floor, leaning on the bandoliered boots behind you. Between the wide open ramp and the droids working on the stardrive you were too exposed to unfreeze your family, and the thought of having to wait even a minute longer made the edges of your eyes threaten to spill anew.

Stars above you wanted this to be over. The back of your throat tasted like bile, and the plasma residue smeared under your eyes was starting to burn. You needed to get away, to blast off into space with your boys and put your draconian past behind you before the literal beast reared her ugly head.

But… now he knows. You groaned into your knees, digging claws into your own hair. He knows! You fucking asshat now he knows! Your greatest, vilest secret had been spilled, and you were going to have to find a way to live with the consequences. He... he’ll understand. Bilgerats are practically foundlings, I just need to explain myself better. Yeah! That’s it! I didn’t have the chance to explain myself. He’ll forgive me… right?

Time seemed to crawl, languid and slow, forcing you to wallow in your own guilt. You cautiously eyed the platoons of troopers that would often march past, trying to glare daggers through their shiny white buckets, but they paid you no mind. The hours ticked by, making you more and more anxious by the second. You had no way of knowing how soon the Wyvern would arrive, could be hours, could be minutes. Could be seconds.

-į̶̱̩̄͋ͅt'̶̡̳̰̝̇s̴̈̅ ̵̧̛̺̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷̄͋͛̚oṁ̸͌̋̾́̈́̕͝i̸̇̏-

I’m aware! You snapped at your thoughts, pissed that they were still present long after Grogu had purged them from your mind. I must be going crazy, it’s the guilt. It has to be the guilt. You rubbed at your temples, trying to dispel the mounting tension in your skull. When you opened your eyes a sweeper droid was clearing away the glass shards from the floor, and you cocked your brows at it as it went by. When did the lights burn out?

Eventually the interior repairs were completed to the fullest, and the moment the ramp hydraulics were functional again you slammed the door shut and booked it back to the freezer controls.You turned a pair of knobs on the side of the carbonite block and took a step back. The metal that covered your beloved crewmates turned red, then bright gold, sloughing off in luminous waves.

You jumped to catch Din and the foundling before they hit the ground, his strength lost from the effects of hibernation sickness, nearly causing him to melt onto the floor along with the aurelius sludge pooling at your feet. In your ear you heard both of your boys taking desperate, broken breaths; and you rubbed at Din’s dorsal plate, encouraging him to fill his lungs.

As a unit you sank down to the floor where the child practically rolled into your lap. His enormous eyes were squinty and blinking, making you think that he may be temporarily blinded. “Hey booger, it’s ok, can you hear me?” Grogu made a sad little noise, but that meant he could at least still hear. “There ya go, that’s it, nice’n slow. Y’ok?” The child looked up at you with a twisted expression, then immediately yarked bright blue all over your shirt. “You know what, I deserved that, thanks.”

Din’s modulated cough grated in your ear. “How… long?”

“Couple hours, but the repairs are finished, we can get the fuck outta here now. Are you alright? You gonna barf?” He started to shake his head no, but the shaking might have been his downfall because you felt him start to heave. “Not in the bucket not in the bucket! Come on, up! Heeere we go…” You gently set Grogu down on the floor and bullied yourself up under Din’s arm, dragging him as fast as you could to the fresher. You barely got the beskar out of the way in time for your partner to empty his stomach. “That’s it, let it all out, I gotcha.”

Din hung on to the sides of the fresher like his life depended on it, shaking violently with every hurl, and there wasn’t much else you could do but hold on. He released one armored claw from the side of the fresher to reach back and find you, but when you tried to hold his hand to comfort him he pulled his fingers from your grasp. Again you tried, but this time he didn’t just let go, he pushed you away, and you heard him mumble something into the fresher bowl.

“-..a...tor-”

“What’d you say?”

“Traitor!!!” Din spat, curling back around at you with viciously bared teeth, eyes wild and bloodshot. You backpedaled away from the fuming warrior that was half crawling half leaping towards you, making weak throws that were slowly gaining in strength. “You fucking traitor! I should have known! I should have known from the very fucking start!” You’d never seen him angry without the helmet, and it terrified you. He terrified you.

You put up your hands defensively, backing away from him. “Please! Let me explain! It wasn’t-”

“I don’t listen to Imps!” He swung at you and missed, but his agility was quickly returning. You wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.

“Damn it Din, fucking listen-” Ignoring you, he groped for the gun on his belt, and you were barely able to grab your armor in time from the freezer to block his reckless shots. You crouched over Grogu, using your body and the face plate as a shield against the assaulting Mandalorian. “Din! Stop! Please! You’re going to hurt our son!”

“Our?!” He hissed, snarling around the word. “That is MY son! Get away from him!” Din grabbed the beskar mask and tried to pull it from you, yanking you up from the floor. “MY son does not belong to you, this does not belong to you! Who do you think you are?!”

“Who am I?! I’m your wife!”

He stopped trying to wrestle the lovingly-chosen armor away from you, meeting your eyes with his own darkened gaze. His earthly irises flickered fast between both of your own pupils, searching your face for something, some kind of reminder. A reminder that he loves you. The muscles on the side of his jaw clenched and rippled, chewing on the words he was looking for.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse, but certain, as if there would never be a greater truth than the one he breathed into being.

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness in his tone stabbed icicles in your veins and froze your mouth closed, rendering you speechless. His hateful gaze looked down to the mask still in your hands, twisting into a pained expression. “Did… did this mean anything to you?”

“Din… please…” you begged, you voice barely above a whisper, “It means everything to me, you mean everything to me!” Behind you Grogu was already starting to cry again, making the situation even worse. “I love you! I did what I did to protect you, to protect Grogu! I didn’t want those Imp bastards to take you. Can’t you see that?”

The Mandalorian laughed, miasmatic and sickly, infected with distrust. “Isn’t that just like an Imp, lying right up til the very end.” He let go of the beskar as if it was unclean, then turned swiftly around on his heel, striding to the fresher to grab his helmet from where it had been discarded on the floor. He picked it up and looked into it’s visor, almost like he was debating whether or not he could put it back on. It sank over his head with a hiss of it’s latches, amplifying his dominating presence tenfold.

You pressed on, balling your fists in determination. “It shouldn’t matter who I used to be, just who I am now. I don’t know anything about your past, all I know is who you are now, I know that you are my… ner rid-oor…”

He was on you in a flash. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue as well, Mando’a is sacred, I should have never taught it to you.” In one swift motion he grabbed the offensive beskar from your useless fingers and threw it somewhere behind him, the iron clanging ugly against the durasteel decking. He dug behind his chestplate and found the lucky talismans you had given him as a sign of your affection, a sign that he now decided should have been a big red flag, shoving them into your empty hands.

“You have dishonored me.”

The Mandalorian bent to pick the crying youngling up off the floor, carrying him over to the bed you had all shared. He didn’t turn around to face you when he spoke again. “Get out.”

His frigid words had you frozen in place, frozen in time. He’s leaving you. Your mind was racing, your heart flooding with sadness and grief. Words abandoned you, giving you only a whisper of your silver tongue.

“Din.. I-I didn’t have a choi-”

“GET OUT!!!” He ripped your backpack off the wall and flung it at you, making you reel from the impact. The ramp opened behind you, and you were suddenly being shoved out the door, rolling backwards out of the Crest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the krayt teeth so hard that the edges cut your palms while you banged on the rising wall of steel.

From behind the closing door you heard a sound, faint but desperate, nearly inaudible over your own pounding heartbeat. It sounded distinctly like a baby’s cry.

“Bubu!”

-SLAM!-

The access ramp sealed shut, and a shiny silver dome appeared in the rounded transparisteel viewport where Mando was taking his seat at the controls. Imps began swarming you while the old gunship’s engines flared to life, burning like a newly risen phoenix. Poorly-aimed blaster fire ricocheted off the ship’s hull while her landing gear tucked itself up, and soon the home you had grown to know and love was blasting towards the hangar exit without you.

The Razor Crest slid through the magcon field, the backs of her engines turning bright blue as her stardrive kicked into gear, rocketing her into warp speed just as an enormous star cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, dwarfing the station with her size. As prideful and arrogant as the Empire she sailed for, she took up the starfield with the domineering presence of a ship that had once served as the Death Star’s loyal guard dog.

It could be no other than the Wyvern’s Tongue.

-ȉ̴͗t̴'̴s̶̛̓͝͠ he̷̍̂r̶̔ë̷́.-

If you had a single coherent thought left to your name you would have made a series of snide remarks to the completely useless voice that whispered in your ears. You would have fought back against the stormtroopers that were roughly grabbing you and forcing you down under the barrels of their guns. You would have ran through the station and commandeered one of the other ships that had come in for repairs and blasted off to somewhere, anywhere else.

If you weren’t so grief-stricken, so heart-broken, so lost, you would have hurled literal dragonfire at the man who was approaching you now.

The troop commander spoke first. “Sir, this one allowed the mando to esca-”

“Get her up. Now.” You were hauled back up to your feet, but your eyes stayed on the forcefield that was draped over the stars, just waiting for the Razor to come back around.

To come back for you.

Your view became blocked by a tall, thin man in an Imperial uniform, his lapel shining with an even bigger emblem of authority than the last time you had seen it. His soulless eyes bored right into yours, and you knew instantly by the look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten his favorite communications officer. “Sparrow? Is that you?”

The long abandoned nickname stung like needles in your ears, reeling you violently into the present. The admiral cupped your chin and brought your eyes up, forcing you to see him and stop pretending that he wasn’t real; that he was an apparition brought to life by your wailing night terrors. “It is. My little Sparrow has flown back to me.”

The stormtrooper braved an interruption, “Sir, the mando-”

Admiral Forescythe silenced him with a wave of his hand, “No matter, the universe has brought me something even better than whatever Moff Gideon had been after.” The glare on the Admirals face turned to a sickly smile “Pray tell, little bird, won’t you sing me a song? I’ve so missed your lovely voice.”

You shook your head from his hand and pointed to the electromagnetic cuffs that still hung from the backs of your ears, the last remainder of the beloved faceplate you had been gifted. “Hull breach, tone deaf.” was all the excuse you could muster. A stiff leather glove rose up to brush over the Mandalorian steel, and you fought every animalistic urge to go batshit ballistic, rip the admiral limb from limb.

“What a pity, but at least you can still speak.” He was standing too close now, and the disgust you felt for the man who practically raised you made your flesh boil under his gaze. His gloved hand slid down from your ear and grabbed at the bottom of your jaw, forcing your head to tilt while he inspected the bitemarks Din had put on your neck when he still loved you. “At least you haven’t been lonely, good thing I had you chipped when I did. Shame on you for letting someone defile you in such a manner, were you still on my ship I would have had them jettisoned.”

The Admiral raked his eyes over your disheveled form, from your marked flesh to your blackened eyes and your blue-stained shirt, his face twisting in disgust. “Whatever life you have been living clearly doesn’t suit you, it’s high time you cease this reckless behavior and come back to where you belong.” He bent down and picked your backpack up off the floor where it had fallen, slinging one ratty strap over his neatly-pressed shoulder; then extended a hand to you. “Are you ready to come home now, my little Sparrow?”

You blinked a few times at the question, your heart becoming as cold as stone. Home? The Wyvern was not your home anymore, and the admiral was not your family. But the home you knew, the family you loved was now lightyears away, far far away from where you were now; and they weren’t coming back.

Din wasn’t coming back.

That left only one place left for you to go.

Back... home.

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