#they were kind of unfocused because I was so mad about everything

[florilegia-or-what-you-will]

Idiot Cringe Gawain Failing Upwards For More Than 2 Hours

Okay okay okay. I’m gonna write my very disorganized statement on why I don’t like The Green Knight. I’ve been putting it off because it makes me angry, and I have noticed from past experience trying to write essays about the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation, that when I’m angry, I tend to rant and tangent. I’m going to avoid complaining about stuff that isn’t related to adaptation of the main plot and themes. I’m not going to talk about how annoying I found most of the acting, or how bad I thought the CG was. I’m also not going to nitpick all the little changes that do annoy me, but could be valid in a better movie, like the decision to make everyone in Camelot really old rather than really young. I am going to talk about Gawain’s failure in the book vs. his success in the movie, and I’m not going to edit at all once I’ve written it because I find thinking about this movie exhausting :)

In the original story Gawain is trying so hard, the entire time, to live up to a rigid and unachievable ideal. The story is so good because he doesn’t succeed because he’s only human. That his failure isn’t really a failure, but a part of humanity’s nature, and the fact that Gawain doesn’t take that lesson, and continues to beat himself up for it, is still a unique and interesting story now. I relate to the story as someone with social anxiety and a perfectionist streak. I always feel like I’m playing a game with rules I don’t fully understand.

What is The Green Knight but a really generic coming of age story, and a poorly paced and characterized one at that. It feels like the filmmakers were trying to make up for the weakness of the writing by making the visuals really trippy and the acting really unnatural, but that doesn’t manage to make movie Gawain an interesting character. He’s a mediocre guy who breaks his promises and doesn’t have a strong motivation. He gets into bar fights for no reason, has an extremely annoying manic pixie dream girlfriend (I despise Essel, I think her inclusion was so unnecessary except to make Gawain as boringly heterosexual as possible), immediately gets beat up and left for dead the second he leaves for his journey, actually does commit adultery with Bertilak’s wife, doesn’t manage even a single day of the second game, which was, you know, the main part of the original story, and still gets rewarded at the last minute for doing THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT HE DOES IN THE BOOK. I

’m sorry but I do not like this Gawain. He just sucks. Dev Patel could have played such a good Gawain in a good movie but, alas, this is what I get. I get that I’m kind of a purist. I am of the opinion that if you are going to adapt something, you should:

a) understand what’s good about it

b) only make changes for the sake of the new medium, or if it will improve on the original

That’s obviously not everyone’s idea of a good adaptation, but personally, I’d much rather read a subversive story where Gawain tries really hard to live up to the ideal and fails, and that’s okay, than watch a movie where Gawain runs away from his problems for most of it, refuses to acknowledge his flaws, at the last minute gets a super hetero normative happy ending that he doesn’t deserve and that kind of insults the original story.

[callmehere-iwillappear]

So @remedyturtles wrote a crossover ficlet for cmh and death wish and. well. i accidentally wrote like 900 words of followup. thinking about them so so much

-

After the longest and best (and, okay, only) hug of Leon's afterlife, they end up sitting against the tree. Leon's in the middle, the other two leaning up against him, Sensei's arm around him. He didn't even have to ask. He might cry, if it wouldn't mean he could never show his face here again.

They talk about nothing in particular, joke around in the way only Leos can. Leon makes exactly six jokes about being a ghost, and no one gets mad at him for it. It's the best.

At some point, the other two realize that they've been here a while, and after some discussion, Sensei ends up leaving to go take the front. Which leaves the younger two sitting there in silence, staring up at the stars peeking through the branches of the tree.

"Soooo," Leo says eventually, fidgeting, and Leon tenses up automatically at the tone. "How'd it happen?"

Ah. The elephant in the room. It's not like he hadn't known it was gonna come up eventually. And Leo would've known that he'd known, of course. And he knew that, and Leo knew that he knew that, and – whatever, okay, they both knew everything 'cause they were the same damn person.

Because of that, he knows Leo will drop it if he brushes it off. But it'll still sit there between them until it's finally addressed, or he figures it out through context clues, so. Might as well get it out of the way now.

"Got up close and personal with a kaiju-size wad of overchewed bubblegum," he says with as casual a tone as he can manage. He's not looking Leo in the eyes, but he doesn't have to be to feel the full-body flinch, and.

Yeah.

Considering Sensei is here, Leon had kind of figured the whole almost-apocalypse thing had already happened, but it's… good? It's something. To know for sure. And… judging by Leo's reaction, he'd had a pretty similar experience to Leon. Or. At least partially. From his limited multiverse experience, he's pretty sure most Leos get pulled out after just a few minutes.

… Lucky.

"Sorry," Leo says quietly, thickly, like there's something caught in his throat. "That that happened."

Leon shrugs, because like, what else can you do? Literally nobody would buy it if he tried to say it was okay, so he doesn't say anything and they sit in silence for a while.

"I didn't think –" Leo says finally, choked. Leon can feel how tense he is, how he's practically trembling, and presses up against his side a bit more. It barely seems to help, but Leon's not gonna take offense. Especially considering the conversation topic. He's probably just as tense.

"I didn't think he'd ever actually –" is how Leo eventually finishes the sentence. Kill us is left unsaid, and if Leon wasn't tense before he sure is now.

The phrasing is – what does Leo mean ever? If he was only in there for a few minutes – his head snaps up to stare at Leo, who's unfocused, looking off into the distance like he's somewhere else entirely.

Leon knows from experience that he probably is. He can't get any closer than he has already, but he at least hopes the physical contact can help ground the other him.

"... How long?" he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer. There's a half-hearted shrug from Leo and silence in response, and Leon is starting to think he's not going to answer when –

"I don't know." Leo's voice is haunted. And while Leon could make a joke about how duh, of course it is, he's here… yeah, really not the time. "It was only five minutes for them. I…"

And suddenly Sensei's there, probably having felt the distress from Leo and abandoned the front. Leon thinks. He's still not 100% sure how all this works.

"You want me to tell him?" the older turtle asks gently, and Leo gives a jerky nod.

"You don't have to," Leon says, because like, he gets it. He's an asshole sometimes, but not enough of one to force someone to talk about (or hear about, if Sensei says it) their trauma. Especially when it's so similar to his.

"S'okay," Leo says, nudging his shoulder with his own. He means it, and Leon relaxes, just barely.

"Time was weird there," Sensei says. Carefully, evenly. Like he's reciting something. Like he's had to do this before.

He probably has.

"Leo described it as 'clinging to him'. He… estimated anywhere from two to four weeks, when he first talked about it, but…"

Sensei glances at Leo again. Gets another nod in return.

"It could've been months," he finishes softly.

Oh.

Leon sits there in that knowledge, quietly horrified. He'd known, objectively, that while most Leos had gotten out right away... some hadn't. Just like him. And he'd also known, just by virtue of the multiverse existing, that there'd be other Leos who were in there for months too. Maybe even years.

But it's different to actually hear it.

"Four months," he blurts out suddenly, then winces. "I mean. For me. So. I get it, kind of. And I – I'm sorry you went through that too."

He hesitates, then decides – fuck it, they're already here. It's just the three of them, no one else can see them. So what if he gets a little soft? He knocks his head gently against Leo's, voice quiet.

"... You're not alone."

And if there’s a barely-audible sniffle from beside him, if the other Leo presses just a bit closer like he’s attempting to absorb Leon’s nonexistent warmth – Leon won’t tell anyone.

[hiphop-rap-and-basketball]

Ya lil’ Glasses | LaMelo Ball One Shot

Pairing: LaMelo Ball x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,588

Summary: You and LaMelo Ball both attend UCLA for undergrad. Of course he happens to be that hype kid the class that’s loud with his friends. You both get paired up to do a project together for the class. He’s kind of mean and pokes fun and although he gets on your last nerve, you may or may not find him just a little tiny bit cute. Maybe.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, mentions of sex, female and male anatomy, orgasm control, possibly cliche, M/F.

A/N: damn forgive me it’s been a while since I’ve written smut, butttt I’m on a roll with writing lately soo that’s not stopping me. Let me know what y’all think ;) enjoyyyyy and happy reading

•••

You cannot believe you were paired up with Melo Ball for the most important assignment of this course for the semester. Yeah, it’s UCLA but they really just let any good sports player in and you cared about your education. He did not. All he did was mess around and crack jokes

with his friends in the class. Imagine acting like that in college, couldn’t be you.

When it came down to finally finding a time to work on it together, you could not wait to get it over with.

The first time you met with him for the project was in the common hall. You both settle down in your chairs and you pull out your laptops. As soon as Melo pulled his stuff out, he hopped on his phone.

“Can we just come up with an idea and be done today?” You ask, not really in the mood to ask for his full attention.

He looked at you before clicking his phone off and licking his lips.

“Yeah sorry, sorry, I gotchu.”

You cannot help but roll your eyes. He sits there in silence for a moment and actually starts shooting out ideas. You start writing them down until you finally agree on one.

“I think that’s a pretty good start,” you say, proud you guys at least got something down.

“I think so too. What you doing after this?” He asks, running his hands over his curls.

“Track practice at 4, shower, hopefully dinner after,” you say as you close up your laptop.

“You run track? Running is gross,” he laughs.

“How you gonna say running is gross when all you do is run up and down the court?” You ask, a little too loudly, someone shushes you and you both crouch down and begin whispering.

“Basketball is more than that,” he shot back, “you wouldn’t know.”

“Oh here we go, you all say that,” you respond, flicking your wrist at him.

“You all?? What that mean?” He asks.

“As in all the basketball players,” you laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you let me know when track become a real sport,” he fires back.

“It is!” You slam your fist on the table and he smirks, as if he is happy to get you all riled up.

“Mhmmm,” he replies.

“Over this conversation,” you say, getting up and throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

“When you trying to meet next?” He asks calmly, standing up close in front of you. You were looking up at him now, him being more than a foot taller than you made you feel small.

“I’m free all afternoon Wednesday, my class ends at 12:45p.m.”

“You would know when your class ends, nerd.” He responded.

You cock a brow at his attempt at a roast.

“Shut up,” you responded.

“Wednesday at 2p.m. Your dorm. How’s that sound?” He smiles.

“That works,” you shrug. He smiled at you before walking away. You both go your separate ways.

Wednesday came around quickly. Your head hurts today, so you decided to put your glasses on instead of wearing contacts. Even though you knew that would not help you deal with Melo’s bs. He was extra unfocused today.

“How was your dayyy?” He asked as he walking into your dorm room. He looked huge walking through the door it was kind of funny actually.

“Fine, and yours?” You ask, feeling obligated to do so since he asked you first.

“It was alright, better now that we are here working on our project together bestie,” he jokes, plops himself down on your bed to make himself comfortable. You sat on your desk chair facing him.

You caught up with a couple ideas and worked on some your work, actually getting something done, for now.

You had to show each other your screens, so you awkwardly sat next to him on the bed. He sat up. The two of you now with your backs up against the wall and feet hanging off the bed. You sit in silence for a moment.

“I like ya lil glasses, can I try them on?” He asked, smiled and looking in your direction now.

“N-“ before you could answer, he already swiftly pulled them off your face and put them in his anyway. You roll you eyes.

“Do I look smart?” He asked with the cheesiest smile on his face.

“You look stupid,” you reply coldly, although you secretly kind of liked how they looked on him. They fit his face well.

“I think you’re mad they look better on me,” he replied with a scoff.

“You’re sooo annoying,” you reply. Surprisingly feeling yourself fight a smile. “Can you focus please?”

He does the opposite of focusing, eyes looking around your dorm room for a moment.

“Have you ever had sex with a guy? Are you even straight,” He asked, catching you off guard. You took full offense to his question. Not because of him questioning your sexual orientation, but rather him thinking that was his business.

“That’s a personal question,” you respond quickly.

“Seriously? You have this single dorm all to yourself. You don’t even use it to its full benefits. You know how many girls I’d be bringing over if I lived in a single,” he tossed his pencil up in the air and caught it as he spoke.

“I’m here for my sport and to learn, not everything in college is about seeing how many people you can have sex with, Melo.” You responded, typing away at your computer.

Melo slowly lifted your computer off your lap, placing it on the opposite side of him.

“Hey-“ you reach out your hand to it. The room suddenly feeling a lot smaller than it was now that his face was right next to yours and you had nothing to do to keep your hands busy.

“Have you ever even kissed a guy?” He asked, you loosen up at his tone, which oddly enough seems a bit more sincere now.

“Um, no, no actually I haven’t,” you responded quietly, looking down on your lap.

“I don’t believe that.” He responded. “Stop lyin.”

“It’s true,” you shrug, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, making your heart skip a beat or two, but you’re usual chatterbox brain was too nervous to agree.

“Beauty standards have nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone yet. I simply choose not to settle-“

He cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck with his large hands and pulling you in for a kiss. It lasted for what felt like forever but it was only about 10 seconds. Although you were surprised, you did not want to fight it, and you even found you hands settling on top of his shoulders before he pulled away.

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what in his right mind made him want to do that.

“Anyway, I’m ready to focus now,” he smiled, got up and sat in desk chair you were sitting in first.

You sat there eyes wide, trying to process what just happened.

“Um.. yeah… yeah okay,” you say slowly.

You sat there and decided to not acknowledge what just happened as well. Trying to focus on your work, you could not help by to continue replaying that moment in your head. The kiss on repeat for a while. A couple days even. You saw him in class and he was so nonchalant about it. It started to bother you.

It took everything in you not to ask him about the kiss. Not wanting to seem desperate but at the same time what the fuck. That caught you off guard completely.

The next time you too worked together, you worked in his dorm. His roommate was in there with you guys, engaging in the occasional conversation with the two of you.

This time, you actually cared about how you looked, wearing a little make up and wearing a floral sundress that stopped midway on your thighs.

When you walked up to the door, Melo looked you up and down for a moment before letting you in. He had shorts on with no shirt. His athletic build made your cheeks turn hot and look at the ground quickly.

“Welcome in,” he gestured. You walk in and it looks just as you thought a guys dorm room would look like. A damn mess.

You watched him with his back turned as he stood by his closet of clothes, muscles taut as he pulled a new shirt over his head.

You shuffled to get your stuff of your backpack out before he caught you staring and got to work.

His roommate was cute, and you did not care that you were flirting it up with him right in front of Melo. He kissed you with no explanation. You were determined to figure out why.

“Alright, I’m heading to the gym,” his roomie stated and you smile.

“Have funn,” you reply. You watch him walk out the door, looking down at your lap to flatten your dress then look back up at Melo. His face very clearly annoyed and unamused.

“What?” You smirk, asking in an oh-so innocent tone.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head in response.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “You sound a little pressed.” You push, big smirk on your face as you spoke.

“I’m good,” he replied coldly.

You confidently put your hand on his shoulder and replied. “Okay,” in a sarcastic tone.

He was not fucking with that. He pulled your arm down from his shoulder and pulled you into a kiss, this being your second time feeling his lips on yours. This one was more intense. You remember thinking of his lips and how they felt from the last kiss. Feeling them again made your heart pound with excitement.

“Shut up and don’t make me admit to jealousy,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

His hands gripping the back of your hair and he spoke, eyes bouncing from your eyes and lips.

“Hmmm, I think you just did,” you nod your head and shrug your shoulder. He was not having your sarcastic tone. He pulled you closer to him, this time he was laying down and you were sitting top of his lap. He refused to break the kiss, hands from down your neck to your lower back.

In your mind, you were strategically making sure you were right on top of his dick. His lips felt so good to feel again. You were so lost in the heat of the moment now, as he began using his tongue in your mouth, you let out a small moan for the first time.

He let go of the kiss for a moment and smirked.

“I wanna hear your beautiful moans,” he admitted, voice deep and full of lust.

He flipped you over and now your body was underneath him on his bed. You lied down flat on your back. He hovered himself over you.

Kissing you a couple times more, before kissing his way down your neck and stopping at your breast.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this shit,” he stated sternly.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

“You gon stop giving me that smart mouth,” he replied, smirk on his face before making his way down further. Your heart beating even fast now. He lifted up your dress to find you only in a thong.

He quickly looked up you with a smirk on his face, shook his head and carried on. Yanking your panties off, his lip made their way to your clit like a magnet.

You moaned softly at the pleasure, in fear that someone might hear the two of you.

“What if he comes back?”

“I don’t give a fuck, he could watch,” his voice low and eyes hooded, way too focused at the task at hand to even look at you.

Licking and teasing at your folds, you feel yourself getting closer due to all the tension you had built up since you arrived to his dorm, your mind flashing the sight of him when you walked when he was just no shirt on. His dick print very clear through his shorts.

As you felt yourself getting close to the edge, he stopped, and looked up at you.

“Whyyy,” you groaned put your hands over your face in frustration.

“Because, you was talking all that shit,” he said with one finger in your folds as he rubbed it slowly.

“Please,” you said and his surprised eyes look into yours.

“Nope,” he smirked. Now you were not having it.

You reach down to his shorts and very clearly feel his hard member. You looked up at him with pleading eyes as you began to rub it slowly.

He leaned down and started kissing your neck. You and him both knew he did not want this to stop, and he was fighting with every ounce in his bones not to rip your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

But you knew how to get what you wanted.

“Then it’s my turn,” you smile, pushing him off you and getting down on your knees on the side of his twin sized bed.

Knowing you have never done this before, you were slightly worried you would not be that great at it. You moistened your mouth as you pulled his shorts down, you did not have anything to compare his size to, but you were guessing it was bigger than average.

You admired it for a moment before taking it into your mouth. You heard him suck in his teeth as you took a few licks.

“What’s the matter?” You ask innocently looking up at him through your lashes while you swirled your tongue around the tip.

He bit bottom lip threw his head back, you knew that no answer meant that shit was hitting.

“Keep doing that shit with your tongue,” he groaned quietly.

You keep going at it for a while, and stopped when you felt him starting to thrust into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he groaned as he pulled you on the bed, you watched as he began to slowly push himself inside of you, wincing at the pain, he went slow and you warmed up. He looked so good while he stroked you. You started to feel better and better. He watched you as you took all of him now and proudly.

“I told you to stop talking all that shit,” he groaned.

“I don’t regret it,” you smirk.

“You bout to,” he stated as he began to speed up the pace.

You moaned louder as he continued to thrust into you. You could not believe this moment was actually happening. Him giving into it fed into your pride.

You watching at he admired every ounce of body, gripping and tugging at your soft spots. He held your hips as he picked up the pace.

He pulled out and finished himself off on your stomach. You lay there feeling a mess, he gets a towel and you guys get yourselves together throwing the occasional smirk at each other.

“You look so pretty taking this dick,” he stated, grabbing your neck and kissing you slowly. You smiled into the kiss.

“I’ll do it again,” he confirmed, both hands holding your face as he kissed you hard, tonguing you down.

“Chillll,” you laugh. “Let’s get this damn assignment going already.”

[ikeromantic]

since you still open your request, can I ask for Kyle Ash ikerev. There's not many of his story so I would like to request one after playing his route again. We all know Kyle's love for alcohol, but what if he try to stop drinking alcohol when mc's pregnant with their first child. like one day, mc was thirsty or something and and she saw Kyle's water and drank without knowing it was an alcohol (you can do anything you want for this part, this is just my idea ^^) and like idk what scene next, maybe mc was drunk or she feels sick after that. That's why Kyle refrain himself from alcohol to prevent something like that happening again. (and he maybe eat sweets to help himself from drinking alcohol lol)

P/s : please add on Kyle scene with his baby 🥺 maybe like him telling the baby , he stop drinking alcohol for he/she

Papa Kyle telling the story to his son, with some bonus Edgar and Zero in there too ^_^ Approx. 1500 words. (tw for alcoholism, alchohol)

Kyle felt a smile tug at his lips as his little boy giggled and grasped at his fingers. He’d never figured himself for a father. Never thought he was the kind of man that would enjoy it. “But I do,” he grinned and the baby smiled back.

“You know, little guy, I almost didn’t get to have you.” He dabbed a bit of baby drool off the tyke’s chin. “That’s right. I almost messed the whole thing up.”

The baby’s eyes narrowed as if in doubt, and he stuck his own little fist in his mouth to chew on it. 

“Don’t believe me?” He gestured to his desk. “Well, it all started right there. I’d left a glass of moonshine on my desk to drink after I finished my rounds. Stuff is clear as water but it burns when it goes down. Like a fire. That’s the opposite of water. Sort of.”

His son nodded along as if he understood, so Kyle continued.

“Your mom was pregnant with you. She was as round as a-” he paused and looked around to make sure she wasn’t listening. “She was as round as a balloon! And I could never tell what mood she was going to be in. Crying. Laughing. Shouting. She was all over the place. I couldn’t seem to do anything right, so I was trying to avoid her.”

The baby gave a disapproving gurgle.

“Hey. Don’t judge me until you’ve had a pregnant wife, ok?” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, she came looking for me. But I was doing rounds, so she sat down at my desk. I guess she was thirsty because she picked up my glass of moonshine and downed it in one gulp. Now,” he paused, “I didn’t see that part. But I got back just as she set it down. Her face was bright red!”

His son giggled. 

“Yeah, I thought it was funny too. But then I realized pregnant ladies are absolutely not supposed to drink. Especially not stuff like that. It’s dangerous for them and for the baby. So I rushed over just in time to get a slap.” Kyle popped his cheek lightly, making the baby laugh again.

“Oh she was mad, alright. Shouting about why I left a glass of alcohol on the desk like it was water. And why was I avoiding her. And just . . . everything I’d done wrong. And there was a lot. Your dad had some - some learning to do.” He smiled gently, remembering how much it had hurt to admit he was in the wrong. 

The baby didn’t understand any of that and only smiled at his pained expression, a bit of drool dribbling down his chubby little chin. Kyle dabbed it away with a cloth. 

He remembered the terror that swept through him as Alice stood, her legs shaking, steps wobbling. The unnatural flush in her cheeks and the slight, unfocused glaze in her eyes as she looked from him toward the door. 

“Your mother tried to run away from me but she’d had too much to drink. It’s kinda like watching you wobble around while you hold onto things. Only she wasn’t holding on . . .” In fact, she’d stumbled. Kyle’s reactions were slow from the beers he’d sipped at lunch, and he barely managed to get under her as she fell. 

Kyle cleared his throat. “We fell on the floor right there. And I was so scared.” His throat closed over the words, reducing his voice to a rasping whisper. “I was scared I would lose you. And her.” 

His son made a moue of surprise at his tone. A meaty little fist seized onto his clothes and gave a gentle tug. “Ah bababa!”

“Yes, exactly.” Kyle blinked the dampness from his eyes as his mind recounted the days following the accident. He’d sworn to her that he would not drink again. And he hadn’t, though some days the desire was like an itch under his skin. He reached for his candy bowl and popped a ginger sweet into his mouth out of habit. 

The baby reached for the candy, but not fast enough.

“Sorry little guy. These are still a choking hazard for you. Get a little older and I’ll think about sharing, hm?”

There was a knock at the door. Kyle scooped the baby up and went to answer it. 

Edgar and Zero were in the hall. Both men were out of uniform. Edgar was smiling, as usual, and Zero looked pensive. 

“Did you need something?” Kyle looked from one man to the other. 

Edgar’s smile widened. “We did, in fact. Mind if we come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pushed past into the clinic.

The baby made a lurching grab toward Zero as he followed Edgar in. The Ace caught the little guy gently. 

Kyle let Zero hold his son. “So? What is it? Are you ill? Is the King sick?”

Edgar laughed as if that was funny. “No, no, nothing like that.” He sat down in one of the office chairs and spun around. 

Zero was staring seriously at the gurgling baby as if he understood what all the noise meant. He didn’t seem at all interested in whatever it was that Edgar wanted to tell Kyle.

“Is this meant to be a guessing game?” Kyle crossed his arms, feeling a bit peevish. He was tired from a long day of seeing patients and had a long evening of caring for his son ahead of him. 

“That could be fun.” Edgar shrugged. “But no. I came to fetch you. It’s been too long since you had a night out. So, I thought you and I could head to the tavern. Say our hellos to Oliver and Dalim. Try out some of the new beverages on tap . . .”

Kyle sighed. “I can’t. I have to stay home with my son.” He couldn’t help but feel a certain longing for the kind of evening Edgar proposed. His mouth almost watered thinking about the Oasis. But he’d made a promise. 

“I got you a babysitter.” Edgar motioned to Zero who was even now trying to extricate his hair from the baby’s grasping fingers. “He can watch the tyke until Alice gets back. See how much fun they’re already having?”

“This . . . isn’t fun,” Zero said with all seriousness. The baby disagreed with a giggle. 

Edgar grinned. “At least one of you is enjoying himself anyhow.”

The offer was very tempting. Kyle missed his evening at the tavern, laughing and drinking with friends. The relaxed banter, the warmth of a few drinks in his belly. Why shouldn’t he have one night out? It wasn’t the same as keeping alcohol at home, not at all! So it wasn’t exactly breaking his promise . . . and Alice would understand . . .

Edgar stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s the Kyle I know.” 

“I really shouldn’t,” Kyle said, his eyes lighting on his jacket and boots. 

“Don’t let Edgar bully you.” Zero held the baby at arm’s length now, keeping his grabby hands away from his hair. 

“I’m not bullying anyone! Just making a friendly offer.” Edgar chuckled. 

Kyle’s gaze shifted from his things to the baby. His son had Alice’s eyes. Wide and kind and full of life’s sweetness. And right now, those eyes were watching him. Waiting to see what his father would do. “Sorry Edgar. Like I said. I have plans with my kid tonight.”

Edgar gave a low whistle. “Alice has you firmly under the slipper, my friend. At this rate, I’m going to have to kidnap you to get you out for a good time.”

“I’m not under anything,” Kyle gave a tired sigh. “I gave up drinking and that hasn’t changed. So if you’re going to the tavern, give Oliver and the rest my hello because I won’t be coming.” He felt better, having said it. Better, except for that itch under his skin. The one that promised to go away if he’d have just a sip, a tiny sip, of one little beer. 

Zero grinned. “I told you he would say no.”

“Ah shut up,” Edgar murmured. Then, more loudly, “If that’s what you want, then of course. But the offer is always open.”

“Thanks,” Kyle replied, his voice clipped and short. He motioned toward the door. “You going to get out of my clinic now?”

The baby laughed as Zero spun him in a careful circle. “If it’s ok, I’d like to stay and play with the baby a little longer.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe you can play with him while I get some filing done.”

Edgar sighed. “Neither of you are any fun anymore.” He frowned at the baby speculatively. “Is that your fault?”

“Bluhrububu,” the baby replied, and stuck his whole little hand in his mouth. 

“I suppose that’s some kind of answer.” Edgar waved goodbye and left.

Kyle felt a pang of loss as the door closed behind him, but he knew he’d made the right choice. His beloved Alice was better than any drink, and his son was more important than meeting friends at the bar.

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

What did he say? - Daniel Ricciardo one shot

Update: I just realized it's Carlos' birthday TODAY! I'm so so sorry hahaha I feel like a jerk, but it's just play pretend ok?

Guys, this is based on a dream I had but listen, it’s so weird cause I KNOW this is not like Carlos AT ALL. He’s kind of the vilan in this one... Please don’t be mad if you’re a Carlos fan, it’s just for fun, I swear. I’ll even try to write something with him later to make it up to you guys! Also, I clearly don't know how vacuum works in racing, so again, just humor me and pretend I got it right, ok?

As always, please take the time to let me know what you think, means a lot to me (even if it’s constructive criticism)! And thank you so much to everyone that always does! 💕 Your lovely messages always motivate me to keep writing!

Warnings: angst, jealous Daniel, kind of a dick Carlos (again, sorry! I know he’d never)

.

I was in the “side stage” at the press room for the Austin GP, the first I ever went and of course, the first with Daniel, as his girlfriend. He was answering questions along with Pierre Gasly on stage. There were a few people besides me, including some of the drivers, waiting for their turn to face the press.

"Coco, ¿quién es?" I heard Carlos Sainz whispering to his cousin, nodding his head in my direction.

"No conozco. ¿Creo que es periodista?" his cousin answered looking at me. I just acted like I wasn't listening, or understanding, not sure why though.

"No, si fuera periodista estaría allá fuera, haciendo preguntas" Carlos continued.

"Sí, pero no me parece estar perdida" his cousin commented, they kept whispering but I could hear them very clearly.

"Qué pena, no me importaría darte direcciones" Carlos said with a smirk and I felt really uncomfortable at that, which only made me stay even more frozen in place and wish Daniel came back sooner.

"Si no te conociera, diría que acabas de romper una relación. Ni siquiera puedes ver a una chica alrededor" his cousin said hitting him playfully in the head.

"¿Y te parece esta una chica cualquier? Siempre debes andar con supermodelos, ¿no?" Carlos joked back.

"Vale, tienes razón" his cousin answered him and I was counting the seconds for Daniel to come back now.

"Pero sin duda es nueva aquí. Me recordaría de algo como eso. Tampoco pienso ser americana, ellas no tienen esta-" Just then someone called him.

"Sainz, you're up next" Daniel walked out, coming by my side. "Hey" he said to me and I smiled. "They just asked to wait 5 minutes, something about changing the batteries of the mics" he said looking back at Carlos, his cousin, and Kimi, who was going to be pairing with Carlos in the press conference and was just hanging in the corner by himself this whole time.

"Alright, thanks mate" Carlos answered.

"Hey, have you guys met (y/n)? Carlos, Carlos, (y/n)... (y/n), Carlos, Carlos" Daniel made the introductions grinning like a teenager, probably finding it super funny that they had the same first name.

"¡Hola! Mucho gusto en conocerlos, soy (y/n). ¿Como están?" I extended my hand to greet them, feeling much more confident now that I had a 5' 9" Australian by my side. They looked startled at me and then at each other.

“¿Hablas español?” Carlos asked me.

“Sí, y compreendo muy bien también” I told him and my tone made it clear I knew exactly what they were talking about earlier and didn’t like it a bit.

"Carlos, Kimi, they're ready for you" an assistant called.

"Good one kid" Kimi said to me when he walked past us, winking at Daniel. Carlos followed him to the stage and since I didn't want to just stand there in the remains of the awkward situation with Dan and Carlos’ cousin, I just walked in the opposite direction, outside the press room. Not too long after, Daniel walked after me.

"Hey, what was that about?" he asked, still smiling. Boy, he wouldn't be smiling for too long after I told him what that was about.

"What?" I asked, trying not to make a big deal. He reached for my hand, taking it in his.

"You know what. Come on, what happened back there? Did you guys know each other?"

"No!" I have to tell him now, or he'll think I have something to hide. I took a deep breath. "They were talking between themselves before you come out, in Spanish. And I don't think they thought I could understand" he looked at me confused but then it hit him and his expression changed from confusion to rage.

"What did they said?"

"Nothing, it's not a big deal ok? I just wanted to let them know I could understand, so I just said 'hello' in Spanish, that's all" I said, walking away from the place where we were standing and pulling his hand. God knows I didn't want to be there when Carlos walked out, or better, for Daniel to be there.

"I figured that much. But what did he said? Just tell me" Daniel looked at me.

"Let's just go? Please? It's not worth it. What are you going to do? Sucker punch him?"

"Do I need to sucker punch him? Is it that bad?"

"No! Dan, please, let's just go. This is not going to lead us anywhere"

"(y/n)"

"I'll tell you. Promise. Back at the trailer, okay?" I tried to negotiate.

"Fine"

When we stepped back inside his driver's room, Daniel closed the door and looked at me.

"Alright. Spill it"

"Promise me you won't do anything to him"

"Absolutely not. The longer you stall me, the more pissed off I get"

"Okay” I knew I had no choice and honestly, why should I protect him really? I’m just worried about how this might make Daniel feel. “They were wondering who I was, his cousin was teasing him saying he was only interested because he just ended a relationship"

"That's not all" he said and I didn't answer, just looked away, shaking my head. "Alright. I'm sorry you had to hear that. But you can tell me these things ok? I want to protect you baby" He said stepping closer to me and hugging me.

"I don't want you to cause trouble for something stupid"

"Hey!" he said pulling away a bit to look at me. "This is not stupid. Nothing about you is stupid. It's a big deal baby, that’s plain disrespectful. I want you here with me, always. And I want you to feel comfortable here, okay?"

"I feel comfortable now" I said hugging him closer. He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

"Fuckers" he whispered to himself.

"Promise me you won't confront him. He'll deny, or start a fight. Or both. And besides, it’s not so much what he said, it’s more like how they were eyeing me. And I don't want you to get involved in a scandal" I said pulling away and sitting down in a chair. Daniel leaned against the table, looking at me.

"A scandal?" he laughed.

"You do know gossip is the major product of motorsports, right?" I smirked at him.

"Fair enough" he agreed. "Fuck baby, the things I have to deal with for having a goddess as a girlfriend" he was joking now, so the mood seemed lighter, but knowing Daniel, I knew he hadn't completely let that go yet. I just rolled my eyes at him. Hopefully, the events of the weekend would be enough to get his mind out of it.

.

.

Friday and Saturday kept us busy enough so that we didn’t touch the subject anymore, but I could still catch Daniel staring at Carlos here and there. And I could definitely see Carlos staring at me too, which I tried to avoid at all costs, staying out of his visual field. If Daniel saw that, I don’t know if I’d be able to hold him back again.

On Sunday I’d be watching from the garage with Michael and Blake, which was super exciting, to see all the action from the front row. But I didn’t want to disturb Daniel’s routine, so I tried to stay back a little. Yet, he kept coming to steal kisses and joke around. He seemed really relaxed and confident. He was P5 and I took the care to see that Carlos was P8, so I knew they might race each other eventually but I also knew that Dan would be much more preoccupied doing what he does best and overtaking the 4 in front of him to even think about whoever was behind. Everything was going to be fine, no harm done.

“Alright. Time to go” he announced to me. “Kiss for good luck?”

“Good luck. Just go and do what you do best, okay? And try to come back in one piece” I smiled through the kiss and then watched him take his helmet from the table, wink at me, and turn to walk towards his Mclaren. My chest was tight but I could only pray and hope now.

The cars were already outside the garage for some reason, so Dan was walking out when Carlos passed in front of the orange crew. He stopped to greet some of them and that would be fine, except he was not paying any attention to the people he was talking to. He was looking inside the garage like he was looking for something, or rather someone, cause when he saw me he nodded like he was greeting me and checked me out, head to toes. Dan saw it and looked back inside just in time to see me step aside, behind Michael, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Hey... man” Carlos greeted Daniel. And his tone made me sure that it wasn’t even about me anymore. Carlos knew how much it must be bothering Daniel and was clearly using it to try and get him pissed off and unfocused. The thing is, very few things were capable of getting Daniel out of his “all good all ways” vibe, but when they did, you definitely don’t want to be on his way. I’m actually a bit worried about the other drivers now, Carlos included, because Dan just turned back to his machine, like he knew exactly what he was going to do and nothing would stop him, getting inside the car a mere formality. He didn’t even bother to take a second look at Carlos.

“Oh boy” I commented.

“Yeah, I saw it” Michael said to me. “What was that about anyway? I thought they got along fine”. I don’t say anything else, and from that moment on my eyes are glued to the screen in front of us, following any micro movement Daniel makes.

They go for the warm-up lap, which feels like it takes forever, and then, finally, Grid formation. That sign must be broken cause the lights also took hours to change.

3, 2, 1... there they go. Thank god we’re wearing masks, otherwise, my nails and fingertips would be long gone.

The first turn is a sharp one and Daniel had an opening to overtake Perez, the first driver in front of him, we could see it clearly from the drone view, but he didn’t take it. What is he doing?

“What is he doing?” Somebody in the garage voiced my thoughts.

“You had an opening Daniel” the engineer said on the radio.

“All under control. I know what I’m doing. How far are the others behind me?” Daniel answered.

I hoped he wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing but I already knew he was. Being the risk-it-all-idiot he was, Dan was waiting for Carlos to catch up to him. Knowing him, I knew he wanted to race and beat him personally, which was crazy stupid, but wouldn’t take long since Carlos had already overtaken Gasly and Alonso, and was now only a few nanoseconds behind Daniel.

“Come on Dan” I said to myself.

“Come on Daniel” Blake practically yelled at the screen.

I feel like throwing up. He’s gonna get hurt and jeopardize all the work the team put into the weekend just to... to what? I don’t even know. If he gets out of this race alive, I’ll personally kill him.

The race’s still going, no major changes after the first turn. Then suddenly Daniel seems to remember he had a gas pedal, finally getting speed in the big straight and leaving Perez behind. Carlos followed him, seeming to use the vacuum in his favor. Everybody in the garage celebrates, but I’m too focused to cheer along. He’s so close to the podium now. Just keep it up, baby. Carlos is still on his tail.

“Good job mate” the engineer says on the radio. “Watch for Sainz on your right. Bottas’ next”

“Keep me posted on Sainz’s time” it’s all Daniel says.

A couple more laps go and he’s really trying to overtake Bottas, not playing games anymore. Carlos doesn’t seem to try to overtake him even once though, he’s too far behind still.

More laps go by and I can’t standstill. When they’re in the 19th lap, with Max and Hamilton battling each other and taking turns in the lead, Daniel’s voice comes on the radio.

“Let’s be the first to box” I’m not sure what he’s playing at, as it’s still too soon to box, but the team seems to agree.

“Copy that. I’ll let you know when. Let’s get a couple more laps in. Keep this up for now” his engineer answers.

“Understood” Daniel’s voice come through the radio. “How’s Sainz time?”

“At least 1.5 seconds behind you” the engineer informs him.

“Understood” Daniel says.

He’s planning something. Not sure what, and I don’t know if I even could, not knowing much about racing strategies, but it definitely has something to do with Carlos and what happened earlier.

“Ouch!” I hear Michael say and nod towards the screen, making me focus on the race again, and not only on Daniel. Max and Hamilton had touched tires. “They're really going at it, definitely using way more tires than necessary"

"If Dan box before them..." I begin to ask.

"He needs a fast box, gaining speed later and for their box to be slower, but yeah, that's his best shot at them" Michael explains to me.

"Come on baby" I whisper to myself.

Daniel seems to finally get close enough to Bottas, but the Finnish guy won't make it easy for him. Turn 11 on sector 2 will be his best shot now and it's getting closer.

The garage and the radio go silent. Feels like the whole world is holding their breaths while Daniel smoothly overtakes Bottas from his left. And then I almost go deaf with all the cheering around me, it's a podium for Daniel, for now.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to last too long, cause once he comes to the box all the other drivers will pass him. It's just so frustrating.

"Good job mate. Spectacular time. Box now" the engineer informs on the radio.

"Box confirmed. We need to ace this, boys" Daniels says.

Not even a full minute later, I hear his car and see it on the screen. I look outside to see the orange machine with the big 3 in front of it, but I don't even have time to try and take a look at him, cause 2.3 seconds later (or at least that's what the TV tells me) there he goes again. The good news is, only Bottas passed him. The bad news is he almost crashes into Carlos when he comes out of the Pit Lane.

Some of the crew were still celebrating the fast pit stop when they realized what happened. I let out a gasp. They touched tires but Carlos seemed to have managed to get away from Daniel, quickly returning to his side a moment later but struggling to keep it up. Dan, on the other side, seems unbothered. He keeps gaining speed, even though the pit exit is right on the first turn.

"Take it easy now mate, even if Sainz passes you, his time is not enough to stay in front" the engineer informs Daniel, clearly worried that the risk doesn't justify the ends.

"Understood" Daniel responds.

We're on lap 30 now and just as the engineer said, Carlos is a full 2 seconds behind Daniel. Bottas still in front of him (which is frustrating for me because he had just overtaken him before the pit stop), then Hamilton, and finally Max.

"Daniel" the engineer calls him. "How're the tires?"

"All good"

"Good. Ready to race, mate? Hamilton's going to box now"

"Before Bottas?"

"Yes, that's confirmed"

"Understood"

I listen to the conversation between Daniel and the engineer closely, but I can't say I know exactly what the implications are.

"Bottas' going to second, Daniel to third again. Let's hope for a slow pitstop for Hamilton, so when he comes out, he comes in third and races Daniel. That's the best-case scenario, so he needs to gain speed now" Blake explains to me.

"Got it" I confirm to him. "What about Bottas? He should box on the next lap right?"

"Yeah. If Daniel overtakes him still on this lap, the difference will be too big for him to recover after his pit stop. Hopefully" He tells me.

There's a lot of 'hopefullys' and 'best-case scenarios' in this conversation, but I'll take it. I start to silently pray right away, eyes glued to the screen to see exactly what Blake predicted unfold: Hamilton pit stops, Bottas and Daniel are the firsts to go up on the positions, then Carlos, Alonso, and Gasly. The first turn comes again and Dan seises the opportunity to overtake Bottas, who, to his credit, is fighting real hard, but Dan isn't letting him take back his position.

Dan is P2 now. Max is almost 3 seconds in front of him. Hamilton comes out of the pit lane behind Gasly, it should take him long to again his positions.

"Bottas to box on this lap mate" the engineer announces.

"Not worried about Bottas. What about Max?" Daniel answers. A few moments of silence follow.

"Box confirmed for Max on this lap as well. Just get closer to him" the engineer instructs.

"Understood" Daniel answers.

"Come on, baby" I cheer silently again.

"Fuck! He's gonna make it" Michael yells. "Come on Daniel!"

Bottas is 2 seconds behind Daniel, and on the big straight Daniel manages to shorten his time difference to Max to 1.8 seconds. The next thing I know, Max is coming down the pit lane, quickly followed by Bottas. Daniel is P1. I can't believe this. Carlos is P2, but he hasn't boxed yet. Surprisingly enough, Alonso is P3 and, not so surprisingly, Hamilton is already P4 and gaining speed.

"Alonso hasn't boxed yet" Blake comments. That's bad news if we were hoping for him to defend his position against Hamilton. I take a look on the TV and they're showing the conditions of his tires, which to me doesn't mean anything.

"Will he be able to hold him?" I ask Blake.

"Not sure, he's tough though and doesn't want Hamilton to win, that's for sure" Blake answers me.

Then we hear Max passing outside, had almost forgotten about him.

"That took him longer than normal" Michael comments and we look at the screen, his pit stop was 3.6 seconds long. An eternity for the Redbull team. But awesome news for us. Bottas had already left the pit lane, his pit stop was 2.4 seconds long.

The grid is now Daniel, Carlos, Alonso, Hamilton, Bottas, and then Max. Alonso is still holding Hamilton back. Normally, I'd guess Carlos would box soon and maybe even Alonso, but since I know Carlos has some personal motivation against Daniel, I feel like he's going to hold on the longer he can and the same goes for Alonso regarding Hamilton.

We're at the final 10 laps now and nothing has changed, except Carlos is dangerously closer to Daniel now. Alonso still hasn't let Hamilton go by him, repeating the Hungaroring events. I hear the signal of the radio, indicating we're about to hear some communication between Daniel and his engineer, and my chest tightens. It's Daniel's voice that comes on then.

"Something wrong. I'm losing power" Fuck. No.

"Sainz is at your tail. Can you hold on?" the engineer asks.

"I don't know. Fuck. It's just not working. How much's the difference?"

"Less than 1 second"

"Fuck. Why hasn't he boxed yet?"

"His tires are in real bad condition. But I don't think he's going to do it now"

"I'll put some pressure on him"

"Negative. Negative. Stay away"

"Not going to touch him. Pinky promise" Bastard. I can hear the smirk in his voice, even though this is extremely dangerous and insane pressure, Daniel's still having the time of his life.

9 laps to go.

8 laps to go.

Carlos almost overtakes Daniel.

"Engine's not good. Can you do something?" Daniel asks.

"Negative. 7 laps to go mate, just hold it"

"Understood"

On the big straight of the 51st lap, Carlos overtakes Daniel, but then on the next turn, Daniel takes back his position. The sequel of turns that follows is the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever seen in my life, they're so close to each other, and at such a high speed that if they simply touch tires they would fly off the track and everything would be lost to both of them, maybe even their lives.

"Hamilton passed Alonso, mate. Watch out" the engineer informs him, and I look at the screen. Fuck.

"Fuuuuck" Daniel says on the radio.

It's the 52nd lap now, only 4 more to go and Carlos doesn't even signal a pit stop. He's going to try to make the whole race without it.

"Ferrari is not happy with him" Michael laughs a dark laugh. I knew he had a history of being stubborn but this is too much.

"His tires are at less than 10% integrity. How is he still going?" I ask.

There's the big straight again and Carlos falls a bit behind Daniel, but I've watched enough to know that that doesn't necessarily mean a good thing. Just as I predicted, he tries to use Daniel's vacuum to gain more speed and overtake him, Daniel doesn't let him through and get in front of him, making him almost go off track. That would be a "normal" movement, except Hamilton was using Carlos' vacuum in his favor and, when Carlos is forced to change directions, Hamilton hits his back left tire, which makes it blows off and it's a mess from then on.

Daniel is far from the whole ordeal by now, safe and sound, thankfully. But Carlos spins in the track, taking Hamilton with him. They both go off track and Max flies by, followed by Bottas, Charles (where did he come from?), and then Alonso.

"Are they alright?" It's the first thing that comes up to me to ask.

"Fuck! That was crazy. Is everyone ok?" Daniel asks on the radio.

"Positive. Everyone's ok. Keep going, mate. 3 more laps to go" the engineer informs him.

"Who's behind me now? Bottas?" Daniel asks.

"Max. But he's at least 2 seconds behind, we should be fine" I hear the engineer say and it's like I can almost breathe again. Daniel's going to win this thing. He's so close now.

"It wasn't Daniel's fault, was it? Can they punish him in some way for the accident?" I ask Michael.

"Don't know. He was defending his position, but he's been closing in Carlos ever since the begging of the race. Depends on how Ferrari and Mercedes spin this, they'll try anything that favors them" Michael explains to me in a worried tone.

They're in the final lap and Daniel's been clearly losing speed. Something's wrong with the engine. But it's the final lap, just a few more moments, come on baby, you can do it. Max is so close to him though, I wouldn't be surprised if the winner was declared based on the replay of the finishing line. The big straight comes up and Dan has to stay out of Max's front, so as to not give him any advantages.

I can barely see it, but at the same time, I can't take my eyes off the screen.

"Full force now mate, final sector. You can win this" the engineer says on the radio but Daniel doesn't respond. Max is right by his side, he's going to pass him.

There's smoke coming out of his car, the whole thing is going to blow off any second now. Oh my god, please just a few more seconds.

5 turns to go.

4 turns to go.

3 turns to go. Max overtakes him. Shit.

2 turns to go. Daniel wins his place on the podium back.

Final turn. Daniel's in the front, barely. They cross the finish line and the whole garage explores with cheering. There are people running outside to wave at him. I can only smile and hold my own head like it would fall off otherwise. He did it. He fucking did it.

"Woo-hoo! Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!" I can hear Daniel on the radio, screaming his lungs out.

"Good job mate. Spectacular work. First-class, really! Well done!" the engineer cheers on.

The next thing I know, Michael is hugging me and lifting me from the ground just to puck me back down and Blake lift me up again. I can only laugh at their excitement. I'm so happy for Daniel I can barely grasp it!

"Let's go!" Blake puts me down and runs outside the garage. I follow him out, to the place where Daniel is stopping the car, a bunch of smoke coming out and some people with fire extinguishers around it.

He's got his fists up, celebrating. But is still inside the car. Then he takes off the steering wheel and handles it to one of the mechanics waiting outside. He gets out of the car and stands on top of it, smokes still coming out from behind. It's a nice picture. I just hoped he got away from that thing before it explodes, but it's a nice picture, can't deny it.

Then he jumps down and run towards the crew, jumping over them, helmet still on. Everybody is celebrating and cheering, I can only laugh and clap at the scene before me. So much joy and happiness going on, the energy is amazing! Then I can see Daniel looking around, but since his helmet is still on, I have no idea what he's doing. Somebody seems to understand though and they wave at me, calling me to come closer. I approach, but I'm still unsure, don't want to get in the middle of the team's celebration. But Daniel grabs me, pulling me closer and hugging me. I just laugh, can't barely see him with the suit and helmet still on. He's saying something, but I can't understand a thing.

"What?" I laugh at his attempts to communicating with me. He opens his helmet visor and repeats.

"I fucking won baby!" He yells laughing.

"I know! I know! You won Dan! I'm so proud! You're the best baby!"

"I need to get this thing off" he says struggling to get the helmet and the balaclava off, when he finally manages to do it, he jumps over the fence that was separating us and hugs me again, lifting me in the air and kissing me deeply, making everyone around us cheer even louder and I smile against his lips. I wrap my legs around him and he keeps kissing me, only after a few seconds do I pull away to breathe and he touches our foreheads. I laugh again, just enjoying the feeling of pure happiness for him.

"I'm so proud of you. You were so good. This is crazy" I whisper to him.

"Get used to it, cause there's more where it came from" he answers kissing me again.

[maximotts]

♡ 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘵. 𝘪𝘪 ♡ {𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵}

pt. i || pt. iii

a/n: ahaha remember when I said all would be fixed in this part? Turns out I lied. Part 2 was getting way too long and I didn't want this to feel rushed so part 3 will be the final part, but fret not, I'm finalizing part 3 as we speak because I didn't want to leave y'all at another painful cliffhanger. That'll be up right after this one before I go to bed tonight

warnings: angst, another semi-argument, Wanda reading Natasha's thoughts, a gallon of hurt feelings, panic attacks (Wanda)

summary: Natasha can't give Wanda space anymore after an Incident. aka the Secret Softy finally realizes she misses the Small Sunshine

words: 3.1k

masterlist. || navi. || request info/rules. :open

𝘮𝘰𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘬𝘢𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘰𝘺 = 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵

✣ ✣ ✣

It’d been three weeks. Three weeks since she’d seen Wanda, eaten any meals with her, watched her dark hair fall gently over her shoulders as she laughed, or felt her soft hands brush against her fingers for reassurance or in a silent request to be held. Safe to say, Natasha missed Wanda terribly. Even more so, the guilt from how deeply she’d hurt the person she cared about was eating her alive. She saw Wanda’s wounded face almost as frequently as she blinked and she longed to reach out and hug her until it was all better.

She had made attempts. The night of her blow up, Natasha knocked on Wanda’s door for a good five minutes. It was obvious she was in there, sitcom laughter emanating from her television. After a while it was clear she wasn’t ready to talk and Natasha understood; she wouldn’t want to talk to her either. She resigned herself to seeing Wanda at breakfast the next morning, hoping maybe a friendly smile from across the room would let the girl know she wasn’t mad at her. But Wanda was nowhere to be found. Two days of missed meals later and having tripped over a dirty sandwich plate in front of Wanda’s room and Natasha realized she was purposely avoiding even the possibility of having to sit next to the redhead when she ate. Again, Natasha couldn’t blame her.

Now three weeks in, Natasha settled on just walking in. Wanda rarely kept her door locked when she was inside, she and Natasha were the only ones with permanent rooms on the female residence side and there was never an issue with Nat coming in unannounced- until now of course. An hour’s worth of hyping herself up behind her, she took the ten steps next door to where she’d hopefully be able to fix her awful mess. Still she hovered outside, hand outstretched, hovering as she took one last deep breath.

Her hand never reached the doorknob.

Before Natasha could make contact with the metal, a hot spark of red zapped her hand and she jumped back to avoid further attack. “Wa-”

“Don’t even think about it, Natasha Romanoff.” The first time she heard that voice again, she didn’t expect it to sound so dangerous. Natasha expected anger, but she didn’t know Wanda could sound so threatening.

She’d be a fool to try the knob again, it’d only upset her further. Nevertheless, it was important she at least got part of her message out. “I know you’re upset, Wanda. I’m upset with myself too. I was wrong, so wrong. I never should have hurt you like I did, I should have just talked to you. That’s on me. I want to prove to you I’m sorry, maybe even earn your trust back eventually? Whenever you’re ready.” Natasha sighed, twisting her still tingling hand in the other. “I miss you, but I ruined us. Not you. I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Unbeknownst to Natasha, Wanda had wandered closer to the door as soon as she noticed the other pacing outside of her doorway. She wasn’t ready to talk to her; she couldn’t find a way to face her yet without fear of looking like she was coming crawling back without having heard an apology, but before she could think too hard on it, Natasha was speaking. Her heart grew heavy with the weight of Natasha’s words. She wasn’t one for feelings or true emotions and although fairly clumsily uttered, Wanda knew sincerity when she heard it. Swayed as her heart was to run into the arms of the woman she missed for the past week, her brain instantly reminded her of other words.

You still want her after she told you how clingy you are? She’s right. You are pathetic.

The ache was back, stinging just as sharp as the day she’d first heard. She couldn’t yet.

Wanda’s back hit the wall, sinking to the floor with her knees huddled close to her chest. She knew Natasha had just been angry when she lashed out, that she wouldn’t typically be so public with her outbursts, much less direct them towards her, but there were some true feelings within those poison laced words and Wanda didn’t want to have that conversation yet.

“Well.. you know where to find me.” Wanda hated how sad Natasha sounded; she must’ve been tearing herself apart. She despised not being able to fix things. Soft footsteps told Wanda she was fully alone again and although that should have let her relax, she groaned with how empty she felt once more.

✣ ✣ ✣

Another week went by with no exchanged words and Natasha was beginning to give up hope. She’d ruined everything between them seemingly irreparably; asking any of her teammates yielded a non-committal response, none of them were spending tons of time with her either. She’d given up on knocking, having only met silence or words of warning. All she could do was wait.

For Wanda’s part, she felt like she was going to burst. Her skin felt like it was on fire, nervous energy sparking right under the surface. She’d closed herself off to everyone, opening herself up to Natasha was a mistake, it must have been. Her last words to her had been apologetic and kind, but the hurtful ones still lingered and she felt stuck. It was tearing her apart. Even more so, today’s training left her disoriented- earthquake simulation. As the fake ground shook under her and buildings fell, Wanda was spiraled back to childhood and more recently, Sokovia, and although she played it off as nothing with others, as soon as she was back in the safety of her room she fell apart.

Before she would seek out Natasha, whisper her worries against her skin from under the safety of a warm blanket. She couldn’t do that now, couldn’t ask such a thing from Natasha after what she said and after near radio silence for a month. Wanda huddled in her own bed, tired eyes staring longingly at the wall separating her and Natasha’s room. The person she wanted -needed- was so close, but so far. “You’re fine. You’ve dealt with this alone before.”

✣ ✣ ✣

Natasha couldn’t sleep. Not for lack of exhaustion; she’d been training longer these days in hopes of catching more glimpses of Wanda, just to make sure she looked okay. It was working and thankfully from what she could see, Wanda was alright. The past few days were different though; she looked more tired, dragging along more and more, and now today she’d survived the earthquake simulator. To anyone else, Wanda looked like her normal self, quiet and to herself, but Natasha saw the girl’s hands shake, watched her stance go slack in a way she’d warned Wanda against many times. Afterwards, Wanda was off to her usual seclusion before Natasha could reach her from across the room so she settled for giving Bruce a stern talking to instead. He should’ve known better than to shove Wanda in that simulation, especially by herself.

She left a properly admonished Bruce, heading in the direction of Wanda’s room. Arguments be damned, she wouldn’t let Wanda explode alone, even if she hated her for intruding after. If her repeated self-reassurance weren’t enough to convince her by the time she reached her destination, the moans and whines from within set her mind. Natasha hovered again, weighing the consequences, but Wanda let out such a sob that she couldn’t ignore. “Wanda? Can I come in please?” Her hand landed safely on the door, an improvement from last time.

“It’s just me, I wanted to check on you after training.” No response, but no rejection either. She turned the knob, grateful Wanda seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Whether it was a mistake or a silent hope for Natasha’s intervention, she didn’t know, but she would use the opportunity. She could barely find Wanda in the dark room, but her eyes settled on the small form in the middle of her large bed and Natasha was by her side in an instant.

“Wanda? Sweetheart, hey, it’s me. What’s wrong?” Her eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide with fear. Natasha longed to scoop her up, but she couldn’t startle her; she didn’t even know if she’d want her there once she realized who she was. Still, it hurt so deeply to have let her get this bad; she could’ve helped if Wanda trusted her enough to reach out. Natasha waited for what felt like hours until Wanda noticed her, crouching by a bed was rough on her tired knees, but she’d stay like that forever if need be. When Wanda finally made eye contact, she only stared at the redhead, as if figuring out whether the woman in front of her was real or not. She took a daring step, holding her hand out to Wanda, keeping it in her eyeline as long as she could until her palm reached her head. Her thumb moved, ever so softly, over her scalp as a test. Anything she could do to soothe her. “I’m here, Wands.”

If Natasha weren’t so strong, Wanda would’ve knocked her over. She’d thrown her full weight onto her in an instant, clinging to Natasha for dear life while her lower half still hung from the bed. There were so many things tearing at her, so much emotion she needed to unload, but she was too overwhelmed. Natasha had come to her. Had ignored their month of silence and hurt feelings to try to aid her and it left her stunned. “Tash- Natasha.. I-I’m so sorry..”

“Ah, no none of that,” Natasha stood with a grunt, taking Wanda with her to set them both on the bed. She navigated her way to the top of the bed in the dark, only stopping when her back hit the headboard, letting Wanda hold onto her, “This is my fault, I’m sorry. I should have been here for you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, burying herself as far into the crook of her neck as deep as she could. “No. I should’ve been able to handle training today. You were right, I can’t do anything myself. I’m weak and pathetic and..” Sobs took over any chance of coherent words, shaking against the warm body she’d missed so much. Part of her screamed to move away, to suck up her tears and prove to Natasha she was just fine on her own. But she couldn’t pretend. She was fine on her own, she could handle it, but she needed the comfort of someone she trusted too. Someone she could relay her thoughts too instead of bottling them all inside until they got the best of her.

Before she knew it, Natasha felt tears rolling down her cheeks as well. She hated crying, couldn’t stand being so outwardly vulnerable with someone else, but if Wanda could be with her then she owed her the same trust. Toned arms pulled the small woman trembling against her closer, pressing frantic kisses to the crown of her head, anything to show her apologies. “You’re not weak for your emotions, detka. It’s one of the strongest things you could do to allow yourself to open yourself up and trust me.. I should have given you that same trust and been honest from the start.” Natasha cradled Wanda’s head to her chest, rocking her as sweetly as she could. She knew she was holding her a fraction too tight, but she couldn’t help it. Reassuring fingers brushed through long brunette hair, keeping her as close as possible.

“Can you forgive me?” The muffled voice from below temporarily shook Natasha from her waterfall of revelations and she remembered why they were in this situation.

“Moya sladkaya detka, you were forgiven weeks ago. You were trying to help me and yes, we need to talk about how I deal with the aftermath of long missions because I do sometimes need time to myself, but nothing, nothing you did warranted how I hurt you.” Wanda froze and for a moment Natasha was scared she would pull away, but she nodded slowly. “Can you forgive me?”

That was a loaded question. Wanda fought to clear her thoughts, organize them in any way that could possibly make sense. She wanted so badly to simply accept and stay in Natasha’s arms. It wasn’t that she thought Natasha was lying to her; she truly believed she was sorry for what she did, but that didn’t mean those words didn’t still swirl through her head everyday since she’d first uttered them. It was hard to think so close to her. Wanda pried herself away from Natasha, not missing the way Natasha kept hold on her hips as if letting go meant she’d lose her forever. “I want to forgive you, Natasha.”

It hurt, but it was fair. She didn’t expect an easy apology and didn't deserve one either. “There’s a but coming, right?” Wanda couldn’t meet her eyes; she only avoided eye contact when she had more to say and was biding her time. “You don’t have to forgive me, Wanda. I’m willing to do whatever you need to make you feel safe again, no matter how long it takes.” And she meant it. Natasha would put in the work for Wanda, she was more than worth it.

She knew what she needed. It was the only way she could think of easing her mind. Still, Wanda promised she wouldn’t do it again unless she had to, but… she had to. “I need to feel you.” A hesitant ring-clad hand reached out, tapping Natasha’s temple to finish the thought she couldn’t speak. “Nothing traumatic, nothing too deeply buried.. hopefully, at least.” Rarely was it hard for Wanda to search out thoughts in someone about a particular person who crossed their mind regularly. She hoped it was more than wishful thinking that Natasha had her in her thoughts with some frequency. “Please, Tash… I need to know you feel more for me than just ‘clingy, weak puppy.’”

Natasha opened her mouth to retort, to try to take her harsh words back, but she knew it wouldn’t help. The thought of Wanda searching through her mind again scared her still. Last time left her shaken for weeks, months, after what she’d dug up, but back then Wanda was looking to hurt her and damn, she was great at it. She had to trust she wouldn’t do that now. Trust was so hard. A promise was a promise, though. Natasha took Wanda’s free hand in both of hers, a lifeline to hold while she gave herself to the woman she cared so much for. “Okay.. be gentle?”

Wanda let out a chuckle; Natasha’s sensitive side was so very cute. “I would never be anything but, dorogoy.” Natasha nodded, swallowing her fears with reassurance. Wanda was only ever kind to her, too much at times; Steve and Sam never missed an opportunity to poke fun at Natasha when in the early days Wanda was practically exploding with nerves around the redhead. Eventually they figured out it was less that Wanda thought Natasha was going to beat the pulp out of her and more that she wished the older woman would crush her with her thighs- but the two men waited for Natasha to figure that one out on her own.

“Go ahead, Wands. Just be quick about it, alright? I don’t want to spill all my secrets right now.” Wanda agreed with a quiet hum, shaking her head and straightening her spine before moving her fingers alongside Natasha’s head. It reminded her of the first time they’d officially met; a bittersweet memory of how stunning she felt her then enemy was, but bringing her trauma to the surface before those steadfast blue eyes caught sight of her. Now though, Wanda was careful. Only going deep enough to look at Natasha’s memories and thoughts about her. How surprised she was that Wanda was as powerful as she was. Her instant and ongoing distrust of her when she and her brother came to aid the Avengers in Sokovia. Natasha’s annoyance at her stolen red jacket, with an added and apparently shocking sense of possessiveness brought on by seeing her in her clothing. Interesting. Wanda would note that little fact for the future.

Red ringed eyes shone in the darkness, both locked onto Natasha’s and staring far past her. She wanted to be open and honest, that was the whole point. Consequently Wanda let Natasha see what she was seeing and with every twinge of irritation her past self felt towards Wanda and her initial attempts to gain trust with her new team, specifically with herself, her current self cringed at her behavior. But slowly things shifted. Resentment shifted to reluctant endearment, then care and protection and finally into where she longed for Wanda’s calming presence when she was stressed or wanted a confidant. The weight of vulnerability felt like being flayed alive and despite the hand Natasha held using one finger to stroke reassuringly at her palm, she squirmed as they approached that night Natasha came home a month ago.

“You’re fighting me.” The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed, pushing harder at the memory Natasha was keeping away from her. “Stop it.”

Red curls shook as Natasha hung her head; she didn’t want to live through it again. Every night it haunted her. She should’ve just talked to her, given her credit for being one of the most understanding people she’s ever met, having her see it again would just push Wanda further away- “I can still hear your thoughts, Natasha.” Her racing concerns rang loud in Wanda’s own brain, blocking out any hope of unlocking that dreaded outburst until she could get her to calm down. “Trust me, please. You have to let me in.” True, Wanda could forcibly rip the memory from her with ease. It would take such little effort, but she wouldn’t- couldn’t. She needed Natasha to let her see, allow herself to be this forthcoming with Wanda. That would speak louder than anything.

It took everything in Natasha to take her next breath, “Okay, do it.” Wanda breathed a sigh of relief, Natasha’s agreement giving her hope of progress. She slipped her hand from Natasha’s warm grasp, ignoring the small sad noise she was sure Natasha didn’t want to talk about. Instead her hand went to the back of Natasha’s head and brought it forward to rest on her shoulder, her nose promptly burying itself in the crook of Wanda’s neck. Her gentle floral scent settled Natasha’s worries; it’d been too long since she was allowed so close. “I trust you.”

[zukkaoru]

hello all! today is the one year anniversary of me posting plum blossom aka my first oneshot to cross not only the 10k word mark but also the 20k word mark. it's also still holding it's spot as my most popular fic by both hits and kudos and it genuinely stuns me that something that started out as a silly little idea i had right after watching boiling rock is still getting reads and kudos

so anyways, to celebrate one year and to thank everyone who has read and left kudos/comments on it, may i offer you a little snippet from the Sokka POV rewrite i started shortly after posting plum blossom and never ended up finishing?👀💞

(it starts during the white lotus meeting when toph takes zuko to talk to jeong-jeong)

“Gossip doesn’t suit you,” Pakku states. His voice is steady, but underlined with a harshness Sokka doesn’t like. “It doesn’t do well to talk about the Fire Lord behind his back.”

“He’s my nephew,” Iroh replies in the same calm but also somehow harsh tone. “I would not ask you to refrain from ever speaking of your family when they are elsewhere.” Iroh sips his tea.

He and Pakku stare at each other in silence until Jeong-Jeong returns, trailed by Zuko and Toph. Jeong-Jeong and Zuko both look shaken up while Toph looks proud of herself.

“Thanks for letting us interrupt the Old Man Meeting!” Toph says.

Sokka tries to meet Zuko’s gaze, but his eyes are unfocused, almost glazed over. As Toph shoves him out the door, Sokka jumps up and follows them. Pakku tries to pretest, but Piandao silences him.

“Wait, Zuko!”

Zuko tenses, but once his eyes focus on Sokka, he relaxes.

“I just wanted to say bye.”

Zuko smiles. “Oh. Right. Sorry for showing up unannounced - Toph kind of neglected to mention you might be here.” He steps closer, and Sokka knows that means he wants to hug Sokka. Sokka, of course, obliges and pulls Zuko into a hug. Zuko’s breathing is shaky, but that’s to be expected with how off he’s looked since he and Toph first showed up. There’s something bothering him, but Sokka doesn’t want to pry. Not yet, at least. Not right now.

Instead, he just whispers, “I know we just saw each other a few days ago, but I’ve missed you.”

Zuko’s arms tighten around Sokka. “I missed you too.”

--

Sokka is studying the swords hanging on Piandao’s wall while he waits for Pakku to finish discussing whatever with Jeong-Jeong, when Toph bursts in through the door. She looks frantic beyond belief, and almost like she’s been crying.

“Are Sokka and Iroh still here?”

Sokka’s blood runs cold. Something is very, very, wrong.

Sokka feels a firm hand on his shoulder, which he realizes belongs to Iroh. “What is it, Toph?”

“It’s Zuko.”

“What?” Sokka cries. He doesn’t even care about what everyone else will think at this point. Toph never calls anyone by their actual names. Zuko is always ‘Sparky’ or ‘Fire Lord Hotman’ if she wants to mix it up. “Toph, what happened?!”

Toph shakes her head. “Not here.”

Sokka can’t get out of the house fast enough, but Toph waits until she, Sokka, and Iroh are seated outside and she’s sure no one else is listening in before she speaks.

“He passed out,” she starts. “He wanted to visit Azula--” she must feel Sokka tense, because she quickly adds, “it wasn’t Azula’s fault, though! He was really persistent on visiting her once we left the meeting, though, and you know how he gets. But anyways, he passed out while he was talking to her, and he--” Toph seems to have an internal battle with herself for a moment. “He’s fine now. That’s what the doctors told me. But I really think you two should stay in the palace, or at least the Fire Nation, so he can talk to you once he wakes up. ...I think he has some really important things he wants to say to both of you.”

Iroh nods. “I do believe that would be best. Sokka, I am sure Pakku will inform your family of your change of plans.”

Sokka comprehends what Iroh says, but he can’t figure out how to respond. His voice isn’t quite working, and he doesn’t even know if he can nod. The only thing he can think is Zuko.

“Snoozles, come on,” Toph says.

“Your eyes are red,” is what he ends up telling her.

“My eyes are white,” she snaps. “I’m blind.”

“No. You were crying. What happened, Toph?!” It takes everything in Sokka to not reach forward and grip Toph’s shirt. She would just throw rocks at his head or something if he tried that.

“I told you! He passed out!”

“TOPH.”

“Fine!” She crosses her arms. “Fine. It’s kind of, sort of, possible he passed out because he couldn’t breathe. I don’t-- he just--”

“Couldn’t breathe?” Sokka feels like he can’t breathe. “Couldn’t breathe?” he stands up. “Will they let me see him?”

--

Toph must realize that there’s no way Sokka will sleep unless he can at least see Zuko, so she all but barges them into the hospital where Azula was put and the doctors point them towards an infirmary room. It’s empty except for the bed Zuko’s lying in and a waterbender standing at his side. As soon as the door opens, the waterbender looks up. She starts, rearranges Zuko’s blankets, and then makes her way out of the room. She drops something in the trash can on her way out.

Sokka rushes over to Zuko.

He’s lying on his back, and his face is paler than it should be, but he’s breathing. Sokka can see his chest clearly rising and falling, though it does seem a bit unsteady.

“What aren’t you guys telling me?” Sokka asks. He doesn’t look back at Toph and Iroh; just keeps staring at Zuko. Like if he looks away, Zuko’s breathing will stop.

“It’s not our place to say.” Toph’s words echo Iroh’s from earlier. There’s something going on with Zuko, something that both Toph and Iroh know about.

And Sokka won’t lie, it kind of stings that Zuko hasn’t told him. He just spent several days in the Fire Nation, and there were plenty of instances where the two of them were alone with each other. Zuko should know he can tell Sokka anything.

But Zuko isn’t good at talking about himself. Sokka knows this. Iroh and Toph tend to find things out, whether you tell them or not. Toph has her seismic senses to alert her when anyone’s heartbeat is even slightly off and Iroh might as well be able to read minds with how he figures things out about people. So Sokka shouldn’t be hurt, but he still wants to know why Zuko didn’t talk to him.

Sokka reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair out of Zuko’s face.

--

+ bonus: after zuko confesses

And it makes sense now, why Zuko didn’t turn to Sokka. And why Iroh and Toph were so adamant about not telling Sokka the full truth. He can’t even be mad, really, because there’s nothing to be mad or hurt about. Except maybe Ozai raising Zuko to think he was worthless, but Sokka can dwell on that later. And if he accidentally wanders into the prison where Ozai is being held captive and accidentally punches him in the face, that is absolutely nobody’s business at all.

“What are you thinking?” Zuko asks. He’s rubbing his thumb over the back of Sokka’s hand.

“About how a lot of things suddenly make a lot of sense.” Sokka leans forward and presses his forehead against Zuko’s. “Also about how I really want to kiss you again.”

Zuko doesn’t say anything; he just tilts his head enough so he can press his lips against Sokka’s. Sokka sighs into the kiss and he feels Zuko smile. Sokka brings a hand up to Zuko’s hair, running his fingers through it. He could honestly stay like this forever.

[cutesy-pink]

I have racked my brain and i present you with another Musical!MC unintentionaly making chaos. (My target this time is the Heartslabyul, along with Chenya)

Musical!MC do this because there is a bet and Musical!MC need that money!!! (I personally think the bet involve MC sing a spicy song at the Heartslabyul dorm or at the Unbirthday Party or making Riddle red mad or singing that spicy song in front of Riddle, you can take your pick)

Do you know 'Queen of Hearts' by Luz? If you don't know, please check it out on youtube first.

Warning : the lyrics are spicy, in other words explicit. (I myself forgot about how non-children-friendly it is. Surprisingly there is a parental warning for the translated one)

So MC is singing this when Chenya happen to be sneaking into NRC to steal a cake, in front of our Heartslabyul bois and maybe the dorm's students too. (I want to rake in as many victim as possible)

Imagine this chaos where Musical!MC singing the spicy song along with their sexy expression and body gesture👄😈. (I won't write the lyrics, but i'll give some desc of what MC will do. I write it in a messy order okay. They always give 110% effort for every performance, can't accept less than perfect. The show must go on!!!!)

In the middle of singing, Musical!MC saw there is Chenya with his grin and all, so Musical!MC just approach him and trace his grin with their index fingers (like swipe their finger on his lip). Using that same finger, they place it on their own lips while giving seductive smile/smirk. (Ohohoho... Chenya, your body reappeared there. You need to be invisible if you want the cake.)

For Trey, Musical!MC just walk confidently with a lil sway at the hips towards him and moving their face really near at his face as if Musical!MC would kiss him, without losing their seductive smirk for the performance, but at the last second, Musical!MC pull his hat down between their and Trey's face, blocking that kiss. After that daring move, Musical!MC just turn their body around, leaving a red wide-eyed Trey behind, like the vixen role they are playing. But they do turn their head toward Trey, and giving him their seductive alluring smile with a finger touching their plump lips. (TREY! SNAP OUT OF IT! The cake will fall!!!!)

For Cater, Musical!MC just sit beside him and caress upwards of his arm with the tip of their fingers, (so like a ghost of touch, which probably can send down some shiver down the person back) when reaching his shoulder they caress/glide down and momentarily pause at the chest. Musical!MC who just see Cater with a side glance, fully turn their head to stare right into his eyes with their half-lidded eyes, still not forgeting their seductive smile. And their fingertips resume to glide down till their fingertip reach his thigh, which then they tap at the rhytmn of their singing. Musical!MC retract their arm back to themself before giving that Vil pose but, the smile is more alluring than his, it also give a different vibe. (Wow~ Cater, the fact that you are unfocused in recording is surprising😏)

For Ace, they just dance around him, then suddenly Musical!MC lean on him like inviting him to embrace them from behind. Before he can do that, they turn to look at him painting helplessness on their face like begging for help. Ace who is still flustered get another surprised, Musical!MC quickly go behind him, make him sit on of the chairs, encircle their arms around his shoulders and embrace him, their helpless face, which is beside Ace's face, turned into a mischiveous grin. (Oh dear, oh my, no smartass backtalk, Ace? Fufufufu...)

For Deuce, Musical!MC circles Deuce like a predator locking it prey and the gaze they give Deuce is also like one but more... passionate. Picking a rose that is for decoration, they step in front of him and the only thing that prevent both of them for kissing is that red rose, Musical!MC really doesn't let him to break their eye contact, not that he can, he is too bewitched by them. And then, they take Deuce hand and guide them to touch their exposed shoulder as if to seduce. They proceed to give a space between them, and let go of his hand, Musical!MC touch his face to make him see only them as if saying just give your heart to me. (Okay, i know that i said there will be no lyrics. But i need to make a point. Also, DEUCE!! DON'T GRIP THE TEAPOT TOO HARD OR IT WILL BREAK!!!)

For Riddle, Musical!MC bow before him, take his hand and kiss his hand, put one of their hand on their chest, like they would swear their loyalty and love to him. Even their expression is on point. If Musical!MC is a vixen who promised fake love to the others, it's the opposite for Riddle, they act like a loyal knight who only give their hearts to Riddle. But they still give that seductive smile to him and present him a tart as if they present their heart to him.

On the ending of performance, they present themself as if they are the Queen of Hearts from their song and act as if they are the leader of a banquet of madness. For the finishing number, Musical!MC give their seductive grin like a villain(ess) who won the war of love.

And also, in that middle of the performance, Musical!MC give a lot of seductive dance moves. The one that i want to highlight is where Musical!MC take off their jacket so that their shoulder is EXPOSED!!! They definitely do THAT shoulder moves from the dance cover.

I rest my case, Your Majesty. MUAHAHAHAHA... (not proofread, so it will be kind of messy)

Everything is a lil’ nsfw so beware to those brave enough to read lmao.

ESRGEONWINGNVEWIUH THIS IS PERFECT-

ESPECIALLY THE PART FOR RIDDLE AND CATER OMG-

Anon, I love you, thank you for bringing us this delicious food.

Imagine the next day after this whole fiasco the next time they bump into any of the heartslaybyul bois or even chenya they just smirk and do the ‘shh’ gesture while winking, and the boi just becomes flustered lmao. And to make it worse, MC would tease them with inside jokes throughout the day. Like if Ace gets splashed with water MC just leans close to whisper “You’re already this soaked, aren’t you?” and Ace almost tripped from both the water and MC’s words. Or when Trey starts to bake MC would remark “Oh my, a feast despite of even the lack of a birthday” And Trey almost dropped the cake batter if he didn’t recover sooner. Or like, let’s say that MC was roaming around the forest with Deuce or Chenya, and they managed to grab a hold of some honey. They shout out his name and go “If you want this nectar, then lick the dirt off my lap and show your sincerity.” and would cackle at their flustered face.

Even better, what they were caught slippin?

Like, after a dorm meeting Riddle was mumbling some lyrics and Leona overheard, causing to choke and sputter, while also looking at the other non-human dorm leaders to see if what he said was legit. Or Ace accidentally singing the chorus and Jade overherd, causing him to laugh and remark at how lewd the lyrics are. Both end up flustered and embarrased lol.

In short: Musical!MC being sneaky little menace they are and making everyone in the situation very flustered.

[slightlymore]

no, thank you

part of the Pride Universe

jaemin x fem reader

others: haechan (mentioned in jaemin's thoughts but not present in the real plot)

genre: smut with plot, roommates au, mentions of university (jaemin is a med student), angst, fluff, very +18 tho

warnings: very! rough! smut! (brat taming, oral, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, denial, slight degradation, restriction, manhandling, bath tub is one of the locations), short mentions of mlm (jaemin x haechan fwb in the past), yn comes off rude in the beginning but it's necessary for character development, yn has an anxiety attack, angsty 

words: 11.3K

this is kinda good if I say so myself, yall have to read 👁️ if you don't like mlm or memberxmember I promise it's just a short bit of fluff/angst connecting it to Cute~ and that's all lol, the plot is very jaeminxreader centered 

Jaemin has been told that he can't say no to people. Yes, he will come to the party. Yes, he can help with the moving out. Yes, he can help you with Anatomy. Yes, that kind of anatomy as well. 

The only time Jaemin would say no is when people would ask if he’s busy or tired. No, I’m fine. No, everything is alright. 

"Do you ever sleep, Jaemin?" Haechan asked once. 

His soft and sleepy voice made Jaemin smile. He wrapped the boy’s waist even tighter, tugging Haechan’s body against his. 

“Of course I do.” Haechan chuckled. “When?” “When you’re not here”, the other whispered. “Lies. You’re studying when I’m not here. Look at what kind of service I’m doing. Fucking you so that you can just lie in bed and fall asleep.” Jaemin smiled again and ghosted Haechan’s forehead with his lips ready to place a kiss on the other’s warm skin. He stopped himself before doing so. “Yeah, thank you for your service.”

But since Haechan started to date some guy, there was no one to force him into bed and make Jaemin rest. 

The boy would drift off to unconsciousness for a little while every night, head pressed into his med school books, mind full of notions and caffeine. He would stay like that for an indefinite amount of time, not enough to fully fall asleep but enough to being shaken to the core when he would wake up, batting his eyelashes as his unfocused gaze tried to make sense of his surroundings. Then he would get up slowly from his uncomfortable chair and drag his feet to the kitchen to make his nth cup of coffee for the night.

Jaemin has never had a roommate and it was probably because of Haechan. Said boy wouldn’t have cared less if someone was in the other room, listening to their moans, but Jaemin didn’t like that. Instead, he loved it when Haechan would pull up to his doorstep unannounced, eyes either wide with tears or tight with lust. Because the choice was Jaemin. It was always Jaemin. Haechan needed him and Jaemin loved it. He couldn’t have other distractions. No flatmates knocking on the door and complaining. Just him and Haechan, on his bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counters, against the entrance door, on the floor, in the shower. Jaemin didn’t know, but it wasn’t just him doing Haechan a favour, maybe quite the opposite. Because Jaemin has been also told that he doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t let people know about his needs, or whatever. But Haechan was aware of that. It took Jaemin a little while to notice it, especially since the other was already gone, but more often than not, Haechan would just show up for no apparent reason. “Nothing happened,” he would say, “I was just horny.” But Haechan would come for him. Because that’s how Haechan was. He could see people very well and he could see Jaemin when he needed something, or when he was exhausted and needed a simple hug, or when he didn’t sleep in days or having eaten nothing more than a single cup of instant noodles. They were friends with benefits but the benefits sometimes were just lying beside each other and talk, or order in some food while watching a movie. Sometimes they would just kiss for a long time, during nights where Haechan felt weaker, and those were Jaemin’s favourite nights. “You should sleep now,” the older would whisper against his lips and Jaemin would reply with a short-breathed yeah, in a second, before letting his tongue inside the other’s mouth slowly for another hour or so. Some people might have said that Jaemin was in love, but the boy had no idea himself whether that was the case or not and he didn’t want to think about that. Jaemin didn’t like thinking at all. But he loved it when others did and he loved to think about their thoughts instead of his own. He wanted to know people’s reasons and why they behaved in a certain manner so that he could understand himself without actively trying to.

“So, what do you think?” Jaemin was standing proud in the middle of his spot-free living room, hands on his hips, like a housewife expecting compliments from her housewive friends. 

“Could be better,” you mumbled, biting your nails, barely looking around.

When you found Jaemin’s pretty written paper renting a room on the university notice board, you did assume he was a girl. 

“What could be better?” he smiled at you. 

You stared back, sensing sarcasm but upon seeing the boy’s genuine expression you realized how naive he was. 

“I don’t know. The roommate maybe?” you rolled your eyes and walked towards your assigned room, dragging your suitcase carelessly on the nice wooden floor. “I’m staying, by the way,” you yelled after closing your door with your foot with a loud bang.

____

You have been told a lot of stuff during your life. Selfish, rude, uncaring, insensitive. 

It would make you angry. 

You would yell back that it’s not true making people step back and add some more adjectives that you wouldn’t want to use while describing yourself in class. 

You fought that back a lot, crying secretly under your covers, terrorized of being alone by yourself, afraid of being alone with such a bad person. 

You fought and fought until one day you just stared back at those people. 

So what? you found yourself thinking. Perhaps I am. Yeah. I am selfish and I don’t give a shit. So what about that? What are you all going to do? 

And when you ignored people, they started to ignore you as well. 

And slowly, everyone knew that no, you would not help them with their homework, no, you didn’t want to go to their stupid party, no, you didn’t give a shit about their new college charity event. 

And you didn’t give a single fuck about Jaemin’s rules.

“So, you can actually do whatever you want, really. The only things I ask of you is-,” he tried to speak to you the first morning of you living together.

You turned your music loudly on purpose the previous night as you settled in. You wanted to see the boy come knocking on your door and finally throw away his polite mask as everyone does around you after a few minutes of knowing you. Because you’re rude and it’s better for them to just know that from the start. 

The thing you hated the most was people giving you a little hope, that maybe you’re likeable and they wouldn’t turn their backs on you. Yet, you’ve quickly realized that it is impossible. Not with you. Not since you’re such a horrible person.

“Yeah, I don’t care,” you replied, one of Jaemin’s red apples between your teeth, a little juice glistening on your lips after you bit down. They were prettily on display in the middle of the kitchen island with a little vase of fresh flowers kept them company on the right.

The boy looked at your mouth for a second before locking eyes with you. “Okay,” he simply replied grabbing an apple himself. “I’m glad you like apples. I was afraid they would go to waste-,” but he didn’t complete the sentence, one hand suspended in the air, eyes wide as you let the piece of apple you were munching on fall on the ground as well as the fruit you were holding. 

“These apples are actually disgusting,” you commented then you both listened to the sound the apple made as it rolled into the living room and stopped as it met the soft rug.

That was it. 

It wasn’t your fault that this boy had more patience than your previous flatmates and you had to go stronger on him. 

Kick me out? Are you going to kick me out now? Come on. Kick me out.

But Jaemin didn’t look mad. 

After the initial confusion, he just put his apple back on top of the others and grabbed a paper towel. He knelt in front of you as you stood there with crossed arms and picked up your half munched bite of fruit and threw it away. Then he walked the few steps separating the kitchen island to the living room and picked up the apple as well, giving it the same journey towards the trash. 

You scoffed. 

Jaemin still didn’t say anything and grabbed a pan out of the cabinets. “I’m making pancakes,” he announced calmly. “I don’t like pancakes,” you acted like a kid but the feeling gripping at your throat was something new and you didn’t know how to behave. 

This Jaemin guy made you angrier than other people. 

Jaemin turned around to face you. “What do you like, Y/N?” 

You stared back for a few seconds at his neutral and unbothered face, then shoulder bumped him as you walked away. Grabbing your backpack from the ground you just slammed the entrance door on your way out.

You knew you were annoying. You also hated yourself just like everyone hated you. But you couldn’t help it. It has happened before. You let yourself believe that maybe you were kind and sweet, that you had a caring heart, that people would like you.  Yet, soon after, they would finally realize that you weren’t like that at all. That you were a monster trying to put on an act. So you liked the idea of people seeing the worst you could be first, so they could just leave if they couldn’t handle it. 

And no one could. Yet this Jaemin dude didn't budge.

You came home late that day and you noticed the way Jaemin turned off his music as he heard you enter your room. 

God, you hated him. 

And the morning after he was already in the kitchen, hair wet on his forehead, a white towel around his neck. 

He smiled like an angel. 

"Eggs and bacon?" 

You ignored him. 

And the morning after again. "Fruit?" Door slam. 

And another morning again. "Maybe cappuccino and croissants?" he wondered. Again. 

"Porridge?" "Okay! Okay. Fuck. Okay", you finally replied. 

It was the weekend and you had no excuse to dramatically leave the apartment as you did the previous days when you had to go to class. You were standing in the same spot in front of the kitchen island as the first day when you made a fool out of yourself by spitting out a piece of an apple. 

"I'm fine with whatever,” you added quietly. "Toast?" Jaemin raised his eyes from underneath his fringe before his hand could throw the locks back revealing the forehead. 

You shrugged. 

He smiled excitedly and got busy around the cabinets, the scent of his aftershave intimidating you. 

Walking around him silently you sat up on the kitchen stools, placing your hands on the marble and looked down, uneasy. It was alright if Jaemin was kind now then would start hate you afterwards. You could rest for a little bit, right? You could just put down your shield and breathe. It’s not like you would become friends if the made you breakfast. 

"How did the week go? You guys have many exams?" Jaemin's voice slightly startled you. 

Looking up you saw that he was already looking at you, two white plates in front of him with two pieces of hot toast. You stared back for a second then looked at the way his hands spread jam on the bread. 

"It was alright," you found yourself speaking. 

How was yours? You probably should have asked. But you didn't care and you were afraid to randomly engage in more than a few words long conversations. 

"Here," Jaemin placed the food in front of you then he licked his thumb. Thank you, you should have said. But Jaemin didn't look bothered. 

After a few moments of silence during which you couldn't bring yourself to start eating, Jaemin sighed like a British person would while slapping their knees when announcing they should go. 

"Alright. I'll eat in my room. I have a lot of stuff to do,” he announced and left with the plate. You stared at his back as he lazily dragged his feet towards the corridor and when you heard his door close you finally tasted the toast.

_____

A scared cat. An angry and scared cat.

This was the first thing Jaemin thought when he saw you. 

Honestly, he almost lost it on the first day but kept it in together when he saw the way your hands trembled while being confronted. Then all of his anger died. 

No, I don't care, you told him yet you didn't turn up your music loudly again after the first night and you never bothered him. It was almost as if you weren't even there. 

What a nicely crafted facade, Jaemin would think, hands behind his head, a pencil between his lips, an open manual on his chest, eyes directed towards an indefinite point on his ceiling. 

It was very late at night. His phone buzzed once and the boy stared at the "apartment empty, wanna come?" text. 

Yeah, he could use some of that. 

And he would have been at his friend's place by now if a weird noise wouldn't have stopped him from putting on his shoes. 

It was coming from your room, a small choked sound, barely audible that Jaemin wouldn't have heard it in other circumstances. He walked the corridor slowly until gently stopping in front of you door, a slight blush covering his cheeks. Could it be-? 

But no. 

Jaemin heard a fair share of whimpering girls before and you definitely weren't enjoying yourself. So he knocked, suddenly worried. "Y/N?" You didn't reply, only a little whimper being caught by Jaemin's ears. "Y/N, is everything alright?" He waited, face almost pressed on the cool wood. Another choking sound and "I'm coming in, now,” he announced and you couldn't stop him. 

Sat on your bed, wet cheeks from crying and irregular breaths, you looked up like a scared deer, sliding back when Jaemin walked towards you. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered with a calm voice, hands in front of himself as he sat down in front of you. 

"Don't touch me. Go away," you flinched, hiding your face from his gaze. 

Jaemin had a reassuring face when he spoke again. "I won't touch you if you don’t want me to."

"Go away. Leave me alone," you repeated with a feeble voice, arms pulling your knees to your chest. 

Jaemin looked at you for a few moments, your baby blue pyjama and irregular breath, then he gently sat down on the bed in front of you and crossed his legs. 

"Do you take medicine?" he asked softly. You shook your head. "Okay. Then, will you look at me?" You sobbed and furtively raised your eyes to meet his for a short moment before looking away. "It's alright. You're doing great." Jaemin's voice was low, articulating every word slowly and he didn't move. "It's scary, I know. But there's no danger now. I'm protecting you." His eyes were trained on your face and you finally let yourself stare back fully. 

"Imitate me," he spoke again, breathing in and out slowly. A little sob escaped your lips before you could do the same. 

"Good. You're doing amazing. Slowly," he cooed and you did just that for an indeterminate amount of times, the silence engulfig you both until you looked down and saw your fingers wrapped around Jaemin's hands. 

You let them go surprised but your palms liked how soothing touching another human’s skin felt. 

His was soft and warm, and you concentrated on the way the heat spread to your cold hands, holding them again timidly. 

Then you let yourself fall on the pillows, eyes looking up at the ceiling, the sobs getting more time between each other. 

Jaemin remained still for a moment, as if unsure what to do, then he slowly moved to the side, walking on all fours until resting on the bed beside you. 

A little stronger whine shook your frame again though and he slightly rolled over, rising on his elbow the other hand above your body. 

"I'm-- going to touch your diaphragm. Is this alright?" 

You bit your lower lip then nodded. 

"Okay, breathe in again, keep it for one second, then release slowly."

You inhaled, staring at Jaemin's big eyes as if looking for approval. His hand ghosted your stomach until finally resting on your body right underneath your bust. 

"That's right," he spoke softly. "Now, again.” 

You repeated the exercise, feeling Jaemin's warm palm through the clothes every time your rib cage expanded. 

"Again," he breathed in with you, keeping it, then releasing it. 

After a while your mind felt like white, blood fully oxygenated, Jaemin’s non-invading and calming presence actually making you feel better.

Yet your heartbeat couldn't stop beating and Jaemin could feel it. 

"Again," his low voice made your arms skin shiver with goosebumps, your breathing getting irregular instead of steady. 

"Focus on my hand and your breath," he said but his gaze falling on your slightly open lips wasn't helping you focus at all. 

He blinked and looked up into your eyes again. 

It was even worse. "Jaemin, I'm fine now.” 

The boy blinked a few times and retrieved his hand slowly. 

Your breath calmed down and Jaemin took it for a good sign since he returned to his side of the bed. 

It became silent so suddenly that you could hear Jaemin swallow. 

Thank you? Thank you for being here? Or, thank you for helping me out. Sorry for slapping your hand away? Is this what you should have said, right?

“Then, I’ll be going now,” his soft voice disrupted the silence and your bed creaked in the darkness as he presumably got up. 

No, wait, wait. 

"Why do I become like this at night?" you whispered instead. 

Jaemin’s silhouette against your dark blue windows moved around and lied on the bed again, this time on his stomach, bust raised on his elbows, eyes probably on the shadows of your face. 

"It's because the front part of your brain gets quieter and gives space to the other parts of your brain where feelings are."

"Why do you always have a good answer to everything?" 

You heard Jaemin's breath form a light chuckle. 

"Many people told me that before."

"Okay, right."

"No, wait, I meant that- I'm not bragging, sorry--it came out very weirdly." 

You smiled, the dark and sudden sleepiness making you care less about keeping up your cold image. 

"You want to be a psychiatrist?" "I don't know."

You turned on your side, hands pressed under your face, knees buckled until almost touching his hips. "Why is that?" 

Jaemin sighed. "I don't know if I'm good at helping people." 

The laugh you let out took both of you by surprise. "Are you joking?" 

The boy exhumed perplexed energy even if you couldn’t see him properly. 

"You're a human matt with weird gigantic patience. You'll help people alright." "A human mat?" Jaemin raised his eyebrow at you but you still noticed the amused twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, you have no self-esteem,” you went on. "I have self-esteem," the other protested. "If you did, you wouldn’t let people treat you like that."

Jaemin let the clock on your wall fill the silence with its ticks for a little while. 

"Like what?" he whispered. 

You rolled on your back, unable to look at him anymore. "Like how I treat you." 

"So you're aware of that." 

"So you're aware of that as well but choose to ignore it instead of fighting back?" 

Jaemin rolled on his back as well, hand rising to his forehead and ruffling his fringe. 

You stared at the way the strands fell back exposing his forehead then you looked at his furrowed eyebrows and finally at his lips when he opened them to speak. "What's the point in fighting back?" 

A car roared outside your open window, giving you more time to collect your thoughts. 

"What's the point in being stupidly kind like that?" you finally spoke up. Your voice was a little whisper as if you secretly wanted Jaemin to not hear you. But he did. 

"So I can live by my principles." "And are you happy?" 

Ah. 

Shit. 

Jaemin was at a loss of words. 

"Isn't it better to just be yourself and do whatever the fuck you want?" you went on. "Like you?" he finally spoke up. "Yeah." "But you're not doing what you want.”

It was your turn to have no words to choose from. 

"You're not yourself, are you?" he asked. "I am," but your voice didn't seem convincing even to your ears. "People are not going to like you more if you behave as you do," you added. "And what should I do to make people like me?" Jaemin inquired. "Nothing. Just be yourself."

Jaemin sat up slowly and briefly looked out of the window. 

"Then you should follow this advice as well. Stop putting on this act."

You didn't sleep the whole night after Jaemin slowly exited your room.

_____

The next day you already left when Jaemin got up and walked to the kitchen. 

He heard you leave actually. He couldn't sleep the whole night either. 

Are you happy? Are you yourself?

No. After turning and rolling on his bed Jaemin got to the conclusion that he wasn't happy or himself at all. 

Not all the time at least. 

Because most of the times he did care about people, but he could also point out times when he did too much for no reason, getting back nothing but a bittersweet taste on his tongue. 

When he came back home after class, an intense sweet fragrance welcomed him first as he stepped inside. With the back turned at him and wearing his black apron, you were frantically looking for something in the kitchen cabinets. 

Jaemin indulged in looking at you for a little while, a fizzy feeling inside his chest, small happiness created by moments like finding money in an old jacket, a little surprise you didn’t need but that made your day better. 

How would it feel to behave like you? Would Jaemin be able to do it? 

At first, Jaemin wondered why you were like that, but after the previous night, he hit his head with an imaginary palm, feeling stupid for not realizing it earlier. 

You were just like him. 

Hiding something in front of people. 

He cleared his throat and smiled when you jolted with a little scream. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Yeah, you were hiding the little girl he saw crying on her bed and he was hiding the needy little boy that so desperately wanted to be loved. 

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he let his bag fall on the floor as he sat on the kitchen stools in front of you. “Are those cookies?” he indicated the oven with his chin. 

You adjusted your clothes as if suddenly realizing how embarrassing it was to wear an apron. 

“Why ask obvious questions?” 

Jaemin’s smile widened until showing his teeth and you felt like either fight him or run away from his eyes. What a weirdo, you thought. It was almost as if he was enjoying your moodiness. 

“Are you looking for something?” he asked again. You crossed your arms on your chest and Jaemin thought that seizing you in the act of being domestic was something that highly embarrassed you. 

He loved it. 

“No.” The boy rested his head on one arm, tilting his head to the side, already knowing what you were trying to do before. “Shall we decorate the cookies together? I can make the icing. The colouring is in the other cabinet.” 

You turned around and stared at the only place you didn’t look before. “I wasn’t trying to decorate them,” you lied. 

Jaemin lifted his hands as if innocent. “Never said that,” then smiled as you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” he walked around you to retrieve the decorations and you felt your breath hitch when he had to press himself on your back. “Because the cookies have to cool down first,” Jaemin explained. 

You didn’t reply and untied your apron, suddenly regretting your decision to remain in the kitchen instead of hiding in your room. 

“Watch a movie with me, please?” 

The “no” was already on the tip of your tongue but then you heard the “please” and your eyes moved to Jaemin’s face by themselves. His hands were pressing into the isle, shoulders raised as if he was trying to lift himself, the evident nervousness in his expression making you feel at a loss of words. 

You didn’t expect Jaemin to be shy. Why was he shy? To ask you to watch a movie with him? That made him shy? 

“Okay.” 

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

You almost laughed at how surprised he was and you had to admit that seeing him run around the kitchen to get to the living room was pretty adorable. 

A little sigh, as if a warning, left your lungs when you walked towards the couch. You were probably doing a mistake, but Jaemin - God - Jaemin was so kind. 

Watching his back as he was sat down on his knees in front of the tv, so eager to spend some time with you, even if it was fake, even if he didn’t really care, made your heart swell up. No one has behaved like that before. Maybe it was alright. 

“Okay, but I choose the movie,” you extended the hand and Jaemin got up, placing the remote controller on your palm. His smile never left his lips as you shuffled the options. “What about this?” Jaemin read the description with squinty eyes. "Oh, I don't like happy endings." You looked at him. "Why is that?" 

The boy remained quiet for a moment. 

"I think it's because you relate a lot to a sad story and it describes your life so well that you get mesmerized in it. You finally feel understood. Others are going through the same struggles. But then they get a happy ending and- you don't.”

Jaemin’s fingers played with one of the threads of his shorts and you blinked at his unexpected words. 

“It becomes a reminder of how your life could go if you were lucky like them. But you're not. That's when you can't relate anymore and it becomes even sadder. Instead of being a sort of relief, the happy ending is another punch in the gut, since I'll never be able to experience something like that,” he smiled after the last phrase as if he had just said that the best colour to decorate the cookies was blue. 

Suddenly it felt as if the reality was altered. 

Jaemin's face was a concentrated mask, trying to read other movies descriptions and you desperately wanted to touch it with your fingertips. 

But you touched the back of his hand instead and Jaemin looked down at his thigh before looking up. 

You didn’t know what expression you had on but the boy was so good at understanding people that you could have had a blank face and he would have known what you were feeling. 

He smiled warmly at you and held your hand, squeezing it a little bit. 

“I’m fine.” “It’s alright to be weak,” you almost talked on top of him. “Or to have desires.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a fish and you both jolted when the ding of the oven told that the cookies were baked. 

The boy reluctantly let your hand go when you got up and walked towards the kitchen. 

The smell was incredible and despite the weird saddened energy of the room, you both smiled at each other when locking eyes.

_____

Jaemin got used to your love language very quickly. 

After cookies, came breakfast, and after that, it was the turn of a small gadget you found at the flea market. 

“It’s so ugly that the first person I thought of was you.”

You still kept the insulting wall but Jaemin loved that part of you as well. 

He ate your gratitude made of sweets and desserts, and looked at it in bed, rolling the little bald man made of wood on his palm. 

A night Jaemin would think a lot about, was when you were hammered, bodies spread on the living room floor, eyes closed, soft music in the background to make the ambience less awkward. But you didn’t care about awkwardness as soon enough, the only thing your dizzy heads could think of was nothing at all. 

With a wavering hand, Jaemin felt around him, searching for the bottle of “you’ve never tasted such good cognac before, I’m sure” cognac that Haechan sent him.

 And the “Oh, perhaps I’m getting engaged :P”.

Jaemin stared at the note for a long time then stared at the bottle of amber liquid, his hands gripping it hard. 

You took it from his hands before he could unreasonably smash it on the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

The bottle was put down on the kitchen counter and Jaemin looked at it first then at your concerned eyes, as you’ve started to do more often lately. 

Jaemin didn’t know what expression he had on but whatever it was, it made you take a few steps towards him when he didn’t reply. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out after a little while, trying to put on his normal smile. But when you wrapped his waist with your arms he didn’t stop the tears falling silently on his cheeks. 

He did not sob, nor wail. Jaemin just stood there, arms unable to hug you back. And when you dragged him by the hand, the bottle under your arm, making him sit down on the floor, he just obliged. 

“Let’s drink to that.” 

And Jaemin didn’t know if you meant his broken heart or Haechan’s happiness but he nodded and took a sip of the sweet drink. The bottle travelled back and forth between you until you couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Lying down, the sun setting, the same few songs playing on a loop since no one had the energy to change the playlist, Jaemin couldn’t find the bottle anymore so he just grabbed your hand instead. 

You didn’t say anything and intertwined your fingers with his, mind circling the spot Jaemin’s thumb was circling on your skin. 

"I feel like people love me for how I make them feel.”

The boy’s voice was hoarse and it made your chest tingle. 

You listened, squeezing his hand as to invite him to go on. 

“I know everything about them. I know how to make them feel good. I listen and I love. I love a lot.” 

“You do.”

Jaemin swallowed hard. 

You didn’t have to look to know that his cheeks were wet again. 

“I tried to be perfect. So I could be loved back.”

“You don’t have to do that. You just got an example of that not working very well anyway.”

A sniff. 

“I know. But the little amount I still get now, would it be there if I didn’t try as hard as I’m trying right now? Would people care about me if I wasn't perfect? Would they love me if I didn't do what they need me to? Honestly, I'm terrified to find out.” 

You sighed and let his hand go, rolling on your stomach and lifting your bust on our forearms to be able to look at Jaemin. 

The boy opened his reddened eyes and tilted his head to the side to meet your gaze. 

“If you try so hard and still get so little, you don’t need that love.” 

Jaemin blinked once, listening to your soothing voice, the evening breeze lightly swooshing his hair spread around his head. 

“As you said, they probably still love you for how you make them feel and not for how you are,” and Jaemin visibly flinched at the hard truth. “But,” you grabbed his hand again, not wanting to let him despair, “there are also people that love you because of who you are, even if you confuse them with those that love you for what you do. And I’m sure Haechan is one of them, it just didn’t go well.” “It didn’t have to go well. It has never been something that could go. It’s just my fault that-” but you shushed him pulling at his hand as to make him stop talking. “You can still admit that he hurt you. He didn’t do it on purpose but it’s not your fault either. And it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about you. Sometimes you can try very hard and people would still not care in the same way that you do, and it’s alright. It’s not you. It’s them.” 

Jaemin kept his eyes closed as you talked, his chest rising with deep breaths and you placed a hand on it just like he did to you before. 

“Do you like me?” 

His question took you by surprise. 

“You can say no. I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot of pressure on you right now-” “I do.” 

The boy opened his eyes, staring at you from underneath his long lashes. “Why?” 

You stared down at your intertwined fingers. The truth was that you also liked him for how he made you feel. He never snapped, he accepted you, he tried hard to get to you and it was something that you’ve never experienced before. But what does that also mean about him? 

“Because you’re a beautiful human being.” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“You’re kind and patient and so sweet. And I know that it looks as if I’m saying only the stuff that has to do with me, like, you’re kind with me, and patient with me and sweet with me. But honestly, I would have liked you even if you were like that with other people and not with me.”

You looked up at his face and bit your lower lip. “Also, would you not like me if I understood you the way you understand others? Would that be only loving the way I make you feel? Would that be a bad thing?” “It’s a bad thing only if you were kind to me only to be loved back when in reality you’re not.” “Yeah. And you’re not doing that, are you? You think you’re not deserving of love without trying to be kind but you’re naturally like that, Jaemin. You’re just unhealthily pushing yourself sometimes. It’s not like you’d stop being kind if you stopped trying. Because you’re already kind. And people will love you the same.”  

The boy didn’t add anything to that. 

He pulled you by the hand until you softly landed on his chest and wrapped your body with his arms. 

You could feel his quick heartbeat under your chest and he probably could feel yours. His warm breath caressed your forehead until you fell asleep. 

_____

The day after, Jaemin was the usual boy. 

His teeth were the first thing you saw when you woke up with a groan.  “Good morning.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes focus on the background. “What the hell am I doing in your bed?” 

Jaemin giggled and tugged your body against his, making you realize that he has been hugging you the whole time. 

“Let me go!” you tried to escape but Jaemin didn’t budge. 

“We’re just cuddling,” his muffled voice on the sweatshirt you were wearing sounded whiny and sleepy. 

“Why are we cuddling? What the fuck happened last night?” 

Your body stiffened when Jaemin threw a leg on your hips like a koala. 

“Nothing. We got drunk and cried, then we fell asleep on the floor.” 

You waited. 

“And then I woke up and took ourselves on my bed where we cuddled some more until falling asleep again.” 

You waited some more. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Jaemin.” The boy raised his face from your shoulder to show you his innocent puppy eyes. “Like what?” “Like why I have nothing on besides your hoodie.” 

Jaemin’s face lit up in a bright smile and he hid his face into you again as if shy. 

“You were thirsty and drank water from the tap.” 

“And?” you were losing all of your patience while your cheeks heated up. 

“And your clothes got all wet.”

“Jaemin, for fuck’s sake, talk normally. Did you undress me?” 

The boy shook his head. “You took them off by yourself,” he paused. “While trying to give me a lap dance.” 

You choked on air and tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jaemin’s koala arms prevented you from doing so. 

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. 

“But you just took your clothes off and fell on me. Nothing happened. I forced you to wear my hoodie. Then you wanted to cuddle and we fell asleep as you kept saying how pretty my eyelashes are.” 

Oh my God. 

“And that’s it?” you asked with a little voice. 

Jaemin looked at you again and his face was so close that you felt as if on fire, the thought of being naked in front of him and doing stuff you couldn’t remember at all. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” 

You hit him on the forehead and as he giggled, hands pressing on the spot, you could free yourself and run away in your room.

It was something you would have never imagined, the feeling between your legs.

 You breathed in and out, trying to calm yourself, but your skin still remembered where Jaemin’s hands were placed just seconds ago. And his breath on your neck. And your eyes couldn’t get rid of his sunlit chocolate eyes. 

Oh, fuck. 

This shouldn’t have happened. 

You didn’t predict this happening at all and it made you go crazy just like the heat spreading through your body as your hand slipped down your stomach. You didn’t think. Your mind was blank and your fingers moved on their own, teeth biting your lower lip, knees buckling until your frame slipped on the door and meeting the floor. Legs open and back pressed onto the hard wood, you closed your eyes and gasped, hoping that Jaemin’s hangover ears could not hear you.

_____

Jaemin loved how things started to go between you. Bad mannered and moody, you still snapped at him but didn’t run away when he would laugh and pull you into his arms. 

Perhaps Jaemin was making a mistake. The same mistake all over again. 

Perhaps he was giving and giving, thinking the other party felt the same, but he didn’t care anymore. That’s how he was. He wasn’t trying. He felt like hugging you and kissing your forehead just to hear your scream, loving the little smile blooming on your lips when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

He bathed into your silent affection and soon your affection became something else he wouldn’t have expected. 

“I think you should stay at home.” 

Jaemin adjusted his raincoat with furrowed eyebrows. You were standing near the wall of the corridor and watched him about to go out in the pouring rain. 

“Jaemin. There’s a storm outside. Your friend can just call a tow truck or something.” 

The boy has been in a rare bad mood for a little while that day and when he heard that his friend got a flat tire his mood didn’t get any better. And now, with you looking at him as if he was doing something wrong when his conscience was telling him it was the right choice made him unreasonable angry. Because he knew that he should probably listen to you. 

“I know.” 

You huffed. “Then tell him to go fuck himself and stay home.” Jaemin let his shoe fall down on the floor annoyed. “Why do you care so much suddenly?” and while saying it he was already regretting it but was unable to stop. “You’ve hated me since day one and now you care about my well-being?” 

You tightened your lips. “I don’t hate you. I thought-- you understood.” 

Your vulnerability made Jaemin close his eyes for a second. “Fuck, I do. I always do. I understand everyone and I hate it.” 

Sudden lighting made his face spectral and you took a step back. 

“Just stop being a human mat and stop doing stuff you don’t want to do. We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?” 

If the boy was cooling down, that phrase took it all out of the window. 

“You think it’s easy? Why don’t you stop saying no to everything and start being kinder then? We’ve talked about that as well. You can’t do it either.” 

“I bet I can go one day with saying yes to everything but you can’t go a day by saying no or doing what you want instead of what other people want,” you dared him. 

Jaemin scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I would want to see that.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest determined. “Okay. Starting from this moment I’m going to say yes. What about you? Are you going to refuse people and do what you want? I don’t think so.” 

Jaemin stared at you for a split second and his expression became one you’ve never seen him wear before. With a fluid movement, he filled the space between you until your faces were a breath away from each other. “I want to fuck you. How about that?” 

You almost gasped as you stared at his dark eyes, the storm outside the window giving him an even more dangerous aura. 

Gulping down, your mind started to run and search for an appropriate answer, but it wasn’t necessary as your lips betrayed you by forming a quiet “okay, deal.”

Jaemin’s pupils trembled as if he was surprised himself, yet his hands were quick, stripping him of his raincoat, letting it fall to his feet. 

“The safe word is,” he whispered slowly, “forest.”

You swallowed again, feeling your throat suddenly dry, then you chuckled trying to mask your nervousness. 

“Okay, but forest? Really? That’s very stupid-,” but you couldn't complete your shaky sentence as you found yourself dragged towards the bedroom and knocked on the bed in a second, ass up in the air with Jaemin’s hands on it. “Stupid?” he asked irritated. “Start fucking counting.”   You shivered even though your blood felt like boiling. Not in a thousand years, you would have expected Jaemin to manhandle you like that. 

Spank. 

A little yelp, more because of the surprise than the actual pain since your thick jeans didn’t really allow for much friction, escaped your lips. “One.” Your voice was trembling. “Good girl,” Jaemin’s voice was almost a deep whisper. 

Spank. 

“T-two,” you stuttered as Jaemin increased the force. 

Spank. 

You whined. “Three.” “God, I’ve wanted to do this the first time you left your dirty stuff in the sink and refused to clean up.”

Spank. 

“F-four. So you’re actually able to feel human emotions such as anger, huh?” you chuckled breathlessly. 

Spank. You moaned and your panties started to get too wet and hot for your liking. 

No five could come out of your lips as Jaemin grabbed your arms and rolled you over on your back. His eyes were full of fire and you felt your core tingle as he got on the bed as well, kneeling between your open legs, resting his weight on his hands pressed on each side of your head. “I’m going to stuff you up so hard. Let’s see if you’ll be able to talk back again, princess.” You were about to chuckle, pretending that his words didn’t affect you, but you lost it at the pet name. A little gasp left your lips in the form of a single breath and Jaemin got even closer as if catching it. “Oh, you like it? You want to be called like that?” he teased you. You gulped nervously and nodded. “Then I won’t do it,” he whispered, mouths almost touching. You raised your head to connect his lips with yours but Jaemin pulled away with a laugh until you couldn’t reach him anymore. Then he got closer again when you rested your head down. “Wanna kiss me?” his voice caressed your ears just the way one of his hands started to draw little circles down your neck. You turned your head to the side, giving him more space. “Hm?” he asked while the tip of his tongue traced the outline of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Yeah, wanna kiss you,” you replied, remembering the dare, even though, you realized with deep shame, you would have answered positively anyways. Jaemin’s soft chuckle added to the sensation growing between your legs and you would have rubbed them together if Jaemin’s bust weren’t there, so close to your core yet so far away. “Ask me nicely,” he ordered. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him, trying to flirt back, maybe making Jaemin weak the way he was making you feel. But the boy’s smile never flattered. “Do you not want to kiss me?” you fluttered your eyelashes. Jaemin shook his head. “No.” “I want to kiss you so badly though,” you tried again. “Sounds like a you problem.” “Okay, so you’re not actually able to feel human emotions,” you dropped the sugary tone. “This is pretty human in my book,” he lowered his hips grinding on you, his hard cock making you jolt even through the layers of clothes. “I have to do what I want right? Then I want to fuck you until there’s no trace of that attitude left, but on my terms,” and you would have replied if Jaemin didn’t rise on his knees again, looking at you sprawled in front of him like a full meal and if his hands didn’t go to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants and roughly dragging them down. Your legs fell on the bed like dead weight after the jeans were thrown somewhere in the room. Jaemin got between them again but not to do what you hoped he would. Instead, he reached on the shelves behind you and you recognized the sound before seeing the object: a pair of shiny metal handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight and Jaemin chuckled. “You want me to tie you up?” you tried to joke, knowing damn well that they weren’t for his wrists. Jaemin ignored your useless question and handcuffed you, tugging at the chain connecting your hands, making you whine as he hooked it to a nail above your head. You looked up, blaming yourself for not noticing it sooner and shivered at the sudden realization that Jaemin had probably done it very often. A little fear of what he might do to you crept in the back of your mind but instead of spreading panic through your body, it spread a wave of pleasure, collecting itself in a single pulsating point between your legs. “Tell me the truth. It’s the first time you’re not the one tied to the bed, right?” you teased him. “No, but it does look like it’s your first time, isn’t it, love?” his eyes were sweet and kind, the usual look Jaemin would give you in the morning or before going to bed, yet it changed in a second as he calmly slipped his fingers on your hips, getting under your panties and dragging them down your thighs. He twirled them around his finger a few times, the tip of his tongue moisturizing his dry lips as he drank in the view of your spread legs. “You’re not taking off this?” you tried to drift his attention to your face instead, shimming your bust as to indicate what you were talking about, suddenly very shy of you being so exposed to him and definitely not used to the look on his face. But Jaemin didn’t budge. He still stared where he wanted, as if almost caressing you with his gaze as he replied. “It would be a shame. That’s my hoodie, isn’t it? Tell me,” he got closer, hovering over you, finally looking at you in the eyes, making you regret that he wasn’t looking away as before, “does it still have my perfume on? Were you thinking about me today just as you touched yourself that time while wearing it?” he purred and chuckled at your shocked expression. “This apartment has very thin walls, angel. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you my little secret as well, yeah?” You nodded breathlessly. “I was fucking my fist to your pretty moans as well, thinking about your sweet lips wrapped around my cock,” he rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, making you open your mouth as if about to kiss you, then smirked. “What about you? Were you thinking about this-” he let his hand fall from your face down your body until reaching between your legs, touching your wet core with two fingers, dragging them up and down slowly. You jolted, inhaling sharply at the feeling, eyes unable to stay open. “-or maybe this?” his voice was a whisper as his fingertips circled your clit, snapping a whine out of you. His shiny necklace was dangling in front of your face, then it laid on your chest as he got closer and pressed his lips on your neck, sucking your skin in, playing with it with his tongue. “Was it perhaps this?” he spoke again as he easily slipped his middle finger inside of you. The wet sounds of him pumping your pussy made you even more aroused and it probably had the same effect on Jaemin since a little low growl roared in his chest. He slipped another finger in. “Do you hear it? So wet and all for me,” his hot breath ghosted your ear. “Jaemin, please,” you mumbled, the building up sensation keeping you on the edge but not enough to grow to what your gut needed. Jaemin raised his bust and sat down on his heels with a cocky smile, looking at the way his fingers disappeared inside you, glistening with your juices. “You’re in no position to ask for anything, angel,” he reminded you calmly. “But I appreciate the please. Now, let’s learn to say thank you as well, shall we?” You whined, rocking your hips against his hand, urging him to go faster. The boy raised an eyebrow at your eagerness and let himself down on his elbows between your legs. “Do you want to feel my tongue?” “Yes, yes, please,” you replied, all of your pride out of the window. “Like this?” he licked your inner thigh. You protested and it only made Jaemin more amused. “Sorry, like this?” he drew a line on one of your lips, so close yet so far. “Jaemin, I’ll fucking make you pay,” you spoke through your teeth and Jaemin clicked his tongue as if disappointed, retrieving his fingers from you and leaving you all empty. “No, no, no,” you wailed, eyes wide staring at him. “What was that? Did I hear some-” he cupped his ear with one hand in a playful act, “-attitude?” “Shit, Jaemin, you said you’re going to fuck the attitude out of me, yet here you are, not doing anything to me.” Jaemin’s smile disappeared in a second leaving space for a dark expression. Usually, he would have continued to smile, but this Jaemin was a different person. “Oh, be careful what you wish for, angel,” he whispered and dove into your core, not leaving you a single second to breathe in properly. You moaned hard feeling his quick tongue, curling your toes and tugging at the handcuffs keeping your arms painfully above your head. “Oh oh- fuck me,” and he did it, lapping at your wetness, fingers shoved back inside of you, quick to find your sweet spot thanks to your increasing moans guiding his movements. His name on your whiny lips probably made him insane since he started to move even quicker, so quick to make you arch your back, not stopping even when you started to uncontrollably shake, coming all over his tongue. Your legs tried to get together but Jaemin didn’t agree with that, slapping your thighs away his with free hand and diving back in, sucking on your clit as if nothing happened. You cried out and mumbled something about stopping but Jaemin didn’t accept anything besides the safe word. Deaf to your protests, he ravaged you until hearing your loud whimpers again, this time shaking so hard that the bed frame moved with you, your wrists hurting as you tugged at the handcuffs again. Only then Jaemin lifted himself on his knees again, breathless, your juices wetting his lips and chin, a thin layer of sweat matting his fringe to the forehead. “How are we feeling, baby?” he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and undressed himself, revealing one of the best bodies you’ve seen in real life. Unable to speak, still coming down from your high, you just stared at him, fucked numb, and he still didn’t even put his cock to good use yet. “Good,” Jaemin seemed satisfied as he caressed his abs, going down to the waistband of his grey sweats with a slow movement. He teased you like that for a second, loving the way your eyes were trained on his hard one. “You want it?” he asked with a smirk, palming it and outlining its form. “Yes,” you managed to say. Jaemin clicked his tongue. “You’re back to speaking now. Better do something about it,” he commented and took off his bottoms alongside his boxers. In a single movement, your legs were around his waist and the tip of his cock was tasting your entrance. Jaemin moved it up and down with his hand, spreading your abundant juices on it, making you almost whimper with expectation before finally filling you up slowly with a deep grunt. And you felt every centimetre of it, stretching you out, making the air leave your lungs in the same moment until you felt it hit far inside where no cock has possibly touched before. “Shit-” Jaemin whispered as you moaned, slowly making more space inside your tight walls by swiftly rolling his hips. He didn’t need to keep the pace low for a long time though as you quickly adjusted to his girth, high pitched pleasure whimpers leaving your rough throat instead of pained ones. Jaemin swore again, thrusting every time faster, grabbing your legs and putting them on his shoulders, hitting it from a better angle. "Louder, baby. I want to hear your moans." You bit your lower lip, the remnants of your brattiness lingering on your tongue. "Then make me moan, Jaemin-," and in that second you realized that you've fucked up. Jaemin descended in a breath, making your thighs touch your chest, one of his hands deeply pressed into the pillow, the other tightened around your throat. He was quick. Oh, he was so quick you felt like you were about to go blind. "Like this? Huh?" the creak of the bed and the slapping of the skin almost covering his teeth spoken questions. When you came you felt your eyes roll back and Jaemin finally let you inhale, oxygenating your fucked out brain. Little pleas slipped your trembling lips, imitating your shaking muscles. But Jaemin didn't stop until you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside of you, making you clench hard around him, finally hearing his choked moans as well. His hips moved and moved until you begged. “Jaemin, Jaem- I can’t, I can’t take this anymore." “You know what to say, angel. A single word and I’ll stop,” he reminded you. You bit your lower lip, staring at him in the eyes. “Oh, so you like it that much, huh? Like - a - little - slut," he accompanied each of his last four words with a deep thrust. "Your tight little pussy can’t take it anymore but you still want it, isn’t that right, princess? You like to be used like this, just as I please. You’re filled up so much that it’s dripping out, baby. Would you let me use your other pretty holes as well?” “Fuck, Jaemin, you’re driving me crazy,” you whined, a few warm tears collecting to the sides of your eyes. “Oh, my baby is crying because it’s that good? Do you love it? You want more of my cock, right?” he cooed sweetly. “Yes, yes, please,” you squirmed underneath him. “No,” he shook his head amused slipping out of your hot pussy, slapping your clit with his tip. You jolted and tugged at the handcuffs. Jaemin smiled and jerked his cock between your legs. "Oh, fuck," his voice darkened as his fingers wrapped his glistening cock, fucking himself while looking at your abused pussy. He was so hot, with strands of wet hair to hide his eyes, open red lips to let out deep grunts and his abs flinching when his thumb would press into the tip of his cock that a little whine escaped your lips. "Give it to me." Jaemin looked up at your begging face with a smirk, hand not slowing down at all. "Where do you want it?" You let your tongue out and you could visibly see the moment during which Jaemin forced a moan down his throat. In a second your arms were down and you sighed relieved as he silently unlocked the handcuffs. But you didn't live that pleasurable moment for long that your bruised wrists were grabbed again to make you stand up on your knees in front of him. Jaemin looked at your face for a short while, almost tenderly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, before he gripped your head and forced your on all fours, his other hand keeping his cock aligned to your face. You whimpered at the sudden movement but opened your mouth, looking up at Jaemin, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. And he did just that. A choked moan vibrated up his length as he thrust on your tongue, making you taste yourself and his cum at once. Jaemin hummed once then whined, stopping the air inside his nose as if choking before releasing it with through his open mouth and it was so sexy that you desired to listen to his sounds forever. And they got louder as you bobbed your head, his hands loosely gripping your face before palming your shoulders and back, going further until reaching your ass and grabbing it, kneading your soft flesh, shoving himself even further inside your throat. Overstimulated, it took him less time to cum the second time and you loved it how briefly at your mercy he was when you let his cock out, a little string of saliva connecting your tongue to his tip, jerking him off until feeling his seed paint your face. "So fucking hot, fuck-," he groaned, staring down at your expression until you milked him all up. 

Both breathless you just looked at each other until a little smile broke on your lips. He followed suit and chuckled, one trembling hand searching for his t-shirt to clean you up. 

"Wait," he said when you sat up,  putting one finger to your cheek and sucking it clean. 

"Delicious," you raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, I bet," Jaemin replied sarcastic one hand sliding on your jaw while the other cleaned up your cheeks. You closed your eyes with a smile and waited for him to be done, not expecting the little peck he places on your lips. 

When you opened your eyes surprised, Jaemin continued to pat your skin as if nothing happened. 

"What was that?" you inquired. 

The boy blinked at you innocently. "You had something on your lips."

Your smile grew. "And it's all off now? I think there's some left. Wanna check?" 

Jaemin let the t-shirt go on the side in that instant and kissed you deeply, almost making you fall on your back. It was soft and careful, yet so intense that if you wouldn't have felt so spent it would have turned you on again. And maybe you still could go on for a while because when Jaemin tilted your head to the side and circled your tongue with his, you could have sworn that the heat between your legs came back stronger than ever. 

"Wait here," he whispered on your skin and got up, letting you admire the back view until he disappeared outside the room. 

With a deep sigh, you let yourself fall on the bed again, stretching your sore muscles, the realization that you've just had some mad sex slowly creeping in. 

When Jaemin came back you were almost drifting to sleep, lulled by the sound of the rain. 

"Come." A little whine rolled out of your lips as you opened your eyes again. Jaemin smiled looking at you for a few moments before sliding his arms under your knees and waist. 

"Jaemin, wait, no-," you jolted awake but not being able to do anything besides wrapping your arms around his neck. "You can't carry me-," but he shushed you and in a few moments you were already in the bathroom, the hot water still filling the bathtub. 

He put you down and held your waist when you realized your legs were still wobbly and helped you step inside the soapy water. When he followed suit, placing himself behind you and pulling you towards him, you felt your cheeks on fire. 

"You alright?" he whispered, hands already trained on your body, massaging your body softly. 

You nodded and inhaled sharply as he traced your bust with two fingers, going down between your legs. "Jaemin-," your thighs closed around his wrist while your face pressed on his bicep to your left. 

His soft chuckle brushed against your temple. "I'm not doing anything. Just cleaning you out," he had the courage to say. When you arched your back he retrieved his hand and grabbed a soft loofah. With gentle and careful strokes, he passed it on your skin starting from the chest and shoulders then going down on your torso, giving a little bit too much attention to your breasts. Too turned on but also embarrassed about him washing you up, you could just stare at the way the bubbly water dripped on your skin and when he ordered you to turn around, you couldn't bear to look at him in the eyes. Hands on our ankles, as you rested your back to the other side of the tub, he worked your legs up slowly, enjoying the view and your shy expression maybe too much. 

"You're so beautiful," he commented in a low, playful tone and you felt like asking him to get you off for the nth time that night. 

Perhaps it showed on your face or maybe he could read minds, but when he reached your inner thighs, he let he loofah float and touched you with his fingers, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. 

"The bet is off now. You can insult me just like before," he smirked while his fingers made their way between your aching folds. 

The breath you inhaled was shaky and you had to press your forehead against his, your hands restless on his wet shoulders. 

"I wasn't like that because of the bet," you confessed and Jaemin's pupils visibly trembled while his lips curved in a little smile. "And I'm not like this now because of it either."

A low sound vibrated in Jaemin's chest before he whispered against your open mouth. 

"So you saying that you're actually a good girl?" 

You nodded, unable to speak as the boy's fingers picked up the pace on your clit. 

"I know," he placed a peck on the corner of your mouth, "you're such a good girl," a peck on your jaw, "especially for me" a peck on your neck. 

You exhaled with a whine and let your head fall back, digging your nails into his skin, finally being able to touch him as you've wanted to do before. Jaemin took the opportunity to let his lips descend to your nipples, sucking them inside the warmth of his mouth, twirling the buds with his wet tongue until it was unbearable for you to not moan his name uncontrollably. 

Your body was all mush when you came again with an almost scream, pulling his head against your chest until his fingertips left your throbbing clit and traced your thigh, going around it and palming your ass. When you finally unclenched your arms from around his neck, he looked up from between the swell of your breasts with a soft giggle. 

"Sorry," you mumbled but he shook his head, a kind of adoration in his eyes that you've never seen before. 

"I loved it-," he started but stopped abruptly afterwards, as if not wanting to let the words aching on his tongue to roll freely. 

You sat down deeper on his thighs until your eyes were at the same level. 

"And?" you touched his chest slowly, fingers still trembling from the high. 

He swallowed, mind running at an incredibly high speed reflected in his suddenly troubled eyes. 

"And I think that-- fuck, I might love you as well." 

Oh. 

It made your whole body shake again. 

Jaemin noticed and you wondered what kind of expression you had on to make him look so worried all of a sudden. 

"Is it too much? Too soon?" he cupped your face with one hand.  

You couldn't look him in the eyes. "I don't know-- I just-" 

Jaemin shushed you. "It's alright. You don't have to do or say anything."

You shook your head and raised your gaze. "I just- I really want to let myself go and believe it."

The boy stayed silent for a moment as if wondering what his next words should be and you hated it. Nights and nights of talking freely with him made you understand how refreshing it was to be yourself and not walk on eggshells around people. And you knew that Jaemin felt the same. Seeing him now, delicate fingers on your skin as if afraid to break you, made your heart ache.  

"You care too much, Jaemin. Don't worry about me like this. We've talked about it."

Jaemin briefly licked his lower lip. "How can I not care about you when no one has cared about you before?" 

And you choked on the amount of tears that suddenly made your vision blurry.  

The boy pulled you towards him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder. "I know," he talked with a shaky voice, "I know I'm too kind and all that stuff and everything you've said is true, I need to change for my own sake, but-," his arms held you even more tightly, "not when it comes to you. I want to be like that with you. And I'm going to change, yes, I'll say no and refuse to do things people ask of me if this is what you want."

His words didn't make your sobs slow down but you raised your face and touched his cheeks. 

"Then I want you to care about yourself the way you care about me, Jaemin." 

"I care about myself now, because you care about me." 

You chuckled. "That's still doing stuff for other people." Jaemin smiled and stroked your under eye with his thumbs. "It's not for other people. It's for you. Because I love you, Y/N." 

You bit your lower lip as a new tide of tears announced their way. 

“I never said I care about you though,” your lower lip trembled after you let it go. “You don’t have to say it.” “I hate you.” “Yeah,” he kissed your lips. “And I don’t like cuddles and I don’t like breakfast.” “Yeah,” he kissed you again. 

And again. 

Until you didn’t let him go anymore and he was sure of being loved back. 

[theoreticslut]

"Why do they hate me so much?”

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley (*might change)

requested: no

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of cheating, SFW

A/N: i’m attempting an enemies to lovers kind of story, but i’m not sure if it’ll really come across as that. if you haven’t noticed i kinda just write and whatever comes out, comes out. As i mentioned above the pairing of the story might change as I’m still working on it. right now its heading in the direction of both the twins, but that’s not how i originally wanted it to go, so we’ll see. I hope you guys like what I have so far, I do want to make this into  a small series so if you have any comments and/or suggestions please let me know - i would love hearing your thoughts! Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog

 ^ let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

“You pig-headed prats!” You holler, huffing as the infamous weasley twins ‘successfully’ pull off another prank, you as their target yet again.

“Oi, sweetheart. That’s a bit harsh for such a pretty lady.” Fred smirks.

“Shove off, weasley.” You hiss as you push through the two who were standing in front of you.

If you spent another minute near them you feared you’d find yourself in detention for a month. The two redheads had a way of thoroughly getting under your skin.

You’re not entirely sure what you’d done to them, but for the better part of two years now you had been the butt of many of their pranks. You’ve had everything from an itching charm put on your robes to mini fireworks exploding out of your books to the most recent of having your wand tampered with to cover you in slime instead of whatever spell you were trying to cast.

Besides that, the two had been beyond irritating to talk to. You could always find them laughing and joking with others, but they seemed much kinder than they were to you. That’s not to say that they were rude or mean to you in anyway, but their jokes and smart replies were definitely not what you needed after having been pranked.

“Y/n! Ohhh, what happened?” Your friend hermione called as you entered the common room, immediately sensing how pissed you were.

“The twins happened.” You grumble, gritting your teeth.

“I don’t know why they keep pranking you! I’ve talked them multiple times about it and I thought they had finally gotten it through their heads that it wasn’t funny.”

“Don’t worry about it, hermione. I think they were just born bloody annoying. It’s what they do and they know they’re good at it, so why stop? It’s not like we plan to be friends or anything any time soon anyway.” You huff, making your way up to your dorm.

“I know, y/n. I know. Just....let me talk to them again. I’ll make sure they stop. It’s not fair to you. Even harry and Ron get annoyed at them for it.”

“You don’t have to do that, ‘mione. I’ll just...start ignoring them, maybe that’ll get them to stop. They’re not worth my time of day anyway.”

“Alright, y/n. Well, let’s get you cleaned up. You are going to need help getting this out of your hair.”

~.~

“You two need to stop this prank thing against y/n. I’ve told you over and over, it’s not funny anymore. Do you know that it took at least five washings to get that slime out of her hair? Five!”

“Oh stop harping us, hermione. It’s not like we’re hurting her any.” Fred says, dismissing her disapproval.

“You’re not hurting her, but you’re certainly annoying all of us.” Ron says through a mouthful of breakfast.

“Why should we stop? It’s fun and honestly pretty great to get a rise out of her.” George smiles.

“Don’t you think she wonders why she’s being targeted? She is our friend, too, and you hardly prank any of us. Don’t you think she might feel a bit frustrated? Don’t you think she wonders why you two have such a vendetta against her?” Hermione pushes, becoming annoyed herself with them.

“We’ll bring it in a bit, but we’re not stopping. She’s just too easy to prank.” Fred finally offers.

“I wish you would stop completely. It’s honestly not fair to her in the slightest.” Hermione sighs, giving up for the time being.

The twins are stubborn and she knows she better take what they give her for now before they revoke their compromise to bring it back completely.

~.~

You groan to yourself as you listen to Professor Binns drone on about history. This was by far your least favourite class, even more so when you’ve had the week you’ve had.

It started monday when you woke up to a surprise visit from Aunt Flo to which you were very unprepared for. You had been meaning to get some more pads and tampons but had been so busy it had left your mind. Not only did it inconveniently arrive, it was also being a major witch this month. As soon as it hit you felt you were going to be sick. The amount of nausea you felt on top of how crampy and achy you were. You honestly felt like you had been run over by the hogwarts express.

Tuesday you had been surprised by a last minute exam that Snape decided to give out. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, except this really was not your week and hadn’t been able to remember the potions you were being quizzed on. You had just barely passed when you normally received the higher marks that snape rarely gave out.

Wednesday you had just had a very rough day. Everything you had tried to do backfired and you ended up creating more hassle for the professors and your friends than would normally be expected. You spent the day just feeling completely useless, which continued into thursday.

Then, so far today, you woke up late and forgot your tie which earned a deduction of house points. You had spilled a bunch of ingredients in potions which earned even more deducted house points and complete embarrassment. You felt completely disgusting today even though you’ve showered and still looked put together. And most recently, just after lunch you had found your boyfriend has been cheating on you.

To put it lightly, this was just a really bad day at the end of a very rough week. The only thing you’ve been able to be grateful for is that the twins have seemingly stopped pranking you.

They still made smart remarks that you were trying your best to ignore, but for the time being you haven’t found yourself in the middle of one of their pranks.

You’re not sure why, but at least you haven’t had to deal with them on top of everything else this week.

You had managed to get all the way through to dinner where you sat very tiredly. Hermione knew you’ve been having a rough week as you were roommates, but she wasn’t sure what exactly had been happening. You hadn’t been wanting to talk about it. Harry and Ron, however, could tell you were in no mood for anything else even without knowing you’ve had a rough week.

Unfortunately, the twins did not get the memo that this was not your best week and had decided today was the day they’d prank you after leaving you alone for a couple weeks. 

they had been planning out how to do so for a few days now and were proud of what they had come with. therefore, It came as quite a surprise to the both of them when you broke out crying after setting a smoke bomb to go off when you lifted your fork.

The food had just been revealed to start dinner when you picked up your fork to grab a piece of ham from the platter in front of you.

Before you could realize what happened, the smoke bomb went off, completely covering you in soot and catching the attention of many of the students in the great hall.

Without being able to hold it in, you had started crying as Fred and George were laughing.

“What have I ever done to you? I’ve tried being nice and it always blows up in my face, quite literally right now.” You sigh, choking on your tears as you stand up from the table to leave.

Fred and George stop laughing when they hear you, their smiles dropping when they realize you had been crying. They watch as you hurry off, hoping to Merlin this encounter wasn’t being listened to and watched by everyone.

“Look what you two have done now! I told you to knock it off with all these pranks. You can’t ever listen though, can you Fred. George.” Hermione states, fuming at the red-headed twins as she gets up and follows after you.

“Oh bloody hell.” They both sigh in unison, slumping into the table.

“Bloody hell is right.” Ron says. “You really don’t want Hermione mad at you.”

“We’re not worried about hermione, mate.” Fred says, keeping his eyes on the door that y/n had left through.

“We just wanted to get her to smile.” George sighs sadly.

~.~

“Y/n!” Hermione calls as she catches up with you in the hall back to the common room.

“Please go, hermione.” You sniffle, wiping at your eyes.

“I’m not leaving my best friend out here crying all alone.” She huffs, crossing her arms as she looks at you.

“I know you had a bad week, but what’s happened? It must’ve been real bad if you break out crying like this, y/n.” She says after a minute or two.

“I’m just so tired, ‘mione.” You cry, shrinking into yourself in front of her.

you felt pathetic yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop crying. you had been hiding it away all week and you just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Tell me what’s happened.” She urges, pulling you into a hug, her heart breaking for you. she cared for her friends more than anything, but it really broke her seeing you so upset. you were usually such a literal ray of sunshine to everyone around you, that it was painful to see you carrying so much pain.

“I’m so tired and achy and nauseous. All because I’m a bloody woman. I’ve been so unfocused that I’ve lost us so many house points. Well, more than I ever have,” you sob as hermione leads you over to a bench by the window.

“I practically failed that exam snape gave us this week and I made such a mess of his ingredients. He was so furious, hermione.” you whisper, your terrified eyes meeting hers as you recall the way he fumed over your mishap.

“I was so embarrassed. I’ve never done that terribly in his class.” you mumble.

“I’ve been nothing but a hassle to everyone around me this week and I just - I feel so bloody disgusting. It’s honestly no surprise I found my boyfriend cheating on me.” You sigh, crying more.

“He did what?!” Hermione gasped, sighing as you cry harder.

“He’s been cheating on me, ‘mione. For like two months at least! I feel so dumb and used. I really liked him, ‘mione, and he just....he just used me!”

“Take a breath, y/n. We don’t need you getting sick.” hermione urges, noticing how you’re choking for air through your sobs.

“A-and now I’m covered in soot all because the twins have something against me. I don’t know what I could have done! Why do they hate me so much?” You cry.

Fred and George frown as they hear you recount your week, having left dinner to come after you and apologize. They truly had no idea. If they did they wouldn’t have set up that smoke bomb.

“We really messed up, Fred.” George sighs, not being able to take his eyes off you as you cry in hermione’s arms.

“Yeah, we have. Come on, let’s go apologize and try to fix this.”

They make their way over to you and hermione who shoots daggers at them.

“Y/n, we’re sorry. We-“

“Would you two get out of here? You’re some of the last people she wants to see right now.” Hermione states, knowing that the twins are beyond sorry and just want to make sure you’re all right, but taking your emotional needs as her priority.

she knew that they had a bit of a crush on you even though they had never said a thing on the topic. it wasn’t hard to miss, however, when she noticed how often they’d stare at you from across the room, smiling dumbly to themselves and zoning out. it was quite adorable, actually, but she did wonder how they ever thought pranking you was the way to your heart.

“We didn’t know you’ve had such a bad week.” Fred sighs, ignoring hermione.

You start crying harder at the mention of your week. You just wanted it to end. you wanted to curl up in your bed, tucked tightly into the blankets and listen to some comforting sad songs while you cry.

“Fred, George, go back to dinner. I’m taking y/n to our room. She needs to be left alone for awhile.” hermione orders, helping you to stand even though you don’t want to. all your energy has been drained from your body so even lifting an arm to wipe at your tears felt like it was the most difficult task in the world.

The twins sigh, but nod, knowing it’s the truth. Having them around wouldn’t help anything, but they felt so guilty. they just wanted you to understand that they don’t hate you, but rather the complete opposite.

They had never wanted to upset you when they started pranking you. In fact they both saw you as a friend and had a bit of a crush on you that they couldn’t understand. Sure you were beautiful, beyond kind, and a little bit of a fireball, but you were just a girl. neither of them were quite sure when they had started feeling and thinking it, but even though they tried to tell themselves that you were, they knew deep down you weren’t just some girl.

They really aren’t the greatest with their feelings though, especially when their beyond confused with them, and decided pranking you was the best way to show that they liked you. They never prank you to be mean, they just want to make you laugh and see you smile.

~.~

Hermione had gotten you into bed after having you shower and change into some comfy clothes.

She had left to go get herself some dinner and promised she’d be back soon to see how you were holding up.

You had told her not to worry about bringing anything back for you. Instead you were just going to curl up and go to sleep.

You heard a knock on your door and sighed. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone, even hermione. You hummed out however to notify the person on the other side of the door that you were listening.

You hear your door creak open a bit and hear some footsteps enter.

“Y/n? Uh, Fred and I brought you some dinner. Hermione said you didn’t want anything, but you can’t just not eat.” You hear George say, cautiously stepping over to your bed. his voice was filled with concern which you thought odd, but couldn’t care enough to think about too long.

You hear Fred shut the door but you don’t bother looking at either of them. You’re far too numb to care at this moment.

“Y/n?” George asks after not getting a response. he didn’t think you were sleeping, but he wasn’t sure.

“Thanks. Just, set it on my trunk. Or my night table. I’m not really hungry right now.” You mumble, still not bothering to look at either of them.

“H-how are you holding up?” Fred asks, fidgeting in his place.

“Why do you care? You’ve never cared before. Either of you.”

Both the twins sigh, looking at the other with guilt written all over their faces. they’re well aware how they come across to you, but it was truly a complete misunderstanding.

“We know we made you the target of our pranks more often than not, but we weren’t trying to be mean. We just, we really wanted to make you smile. Make you laugh.” Fred sighs.

“Did quite a job at it, huh?” You ask, still staring straight ahead. You don’t have the energy to turn to look at them. And truthfully, you didn’t really want to.

“We-we’re sorry. We had no idea how bad of a week you’ve had. We, uh, we heard you tell hermione everything.” George states, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t matter that it was this week.” you deadpan, “It’s the fact that I’ve never once enjoyed your pranks on me. It was pretty obvious, so why would you continue?” You ask, getting a bit irritated at the two twins.

“Well, uh. I-I don’t know. We’re dumb.” Fred answers.

“No, you’re not. You both are so brilliant that I’ve been jealous of you at times, but you just don’t care about school. You’d rather use all your brilliance on tormenting poor classmates or make a girl cry than apply yourselves to classes.”

You knew you weren’t being fair, but you were fed up with everything. You wanted to be left alone. you couldn’t handle socializing, much less able to handle these two trying to make up for what they’d done for years only after you broke down crying.

“No, we never wanted to make you cry. Merlin we feel so guilty that we did.” Fred tries to argue, but is promptly cut off.

“So you really don’t care, do you? You’re just trying to make yourselves feel better.” You say, finally looking over at them, a fire blazing behind your eyes. Both of them look like deer caught in headlights, not sure whether to stay put or run and in which direction if they did.

You watch as Fred gulps nervously as George opens and closes his mouth trying to find the words to not make things worse.

Even though they can’t meet your eyes, mainly because they’re scared of the anger within them, they notice just how awful you look. Not in the sense that you’re unattractive, because Merlin even now you were gorgeous, but awful in the sense of how absolutely heartbroken you look. It truly looks like your soul has been ripped from your body and your heart crushed to pieces.

Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, your nose red from blowing it into the rough tissues on your bedside table, tear tracks etched into your cheeks almost looking like spilled ink that had run across a piece of parchment.

They can see how tired you are, and how much sadness you’re still holding in. They wish more than anything that they could comfort you, but you were making it very clear that you didn’t want them here.

“Can you please just go? I don’t really feel like keeping company.” You sigh, turning back away from them.

They both nod, even though you can’t see them. Turning to walk away, they stop to look over your form once again. They’ve never seen you so heartbroken and it scared them. You had been a light in their lives, happiness radiating from inside you  constantly spreading warm that reached deep into their souls. it hurt seeing that light extinguished.

“We’re really sorry, y/n. For everything.” George sighs, him and fred leaving you to yourself.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Yay Prompts! :D Congratulations again Katie! It was really hard to choose between them, but I decided on 12. “It reminded me of you.” for Obi-Wan and Anakin during the early years of their Padawan & Master time. (maybe with Obi-Wan bringing something back from a mission?) Thank you! <3

Ahhh thank you for the prompt! I love it! // from these prompts

So this is the spiritual sequel to this ficlet, but you don't need to read it to understand it. Here ya go!

---

It is the middle of the night on Coruscant and Obi-Wan is wide awake.

For once, he is not being kept awake by his own thoughts or anxieties. This time around, Obi-Wan is awake because his ship has just landed in the temple hangar after returning from Alderaan where the time is currently mid-day. Obi-Wan’s body believes it is time to go get a mid-day meal, but he resists the urge. He knows he needs to get adjusted to Coruscant time sooner rather than later — especially with a rambunctious padawan on his hands.

Obi-Wan smiles at the thought of seeing Anakin. They’ve been apart for two weeks now, and while Anakin has gotten more used to Obi-Wan going on solo missions every now and then, he still didn’t like it. Whenever Obi-Wan returned from his missions alone, Anakin tended to act even clingier than normal for a few days. Not that Obi-Wan minded too much.

He missed Anakin too.

He hopes Anakin isn’t too angry with him. Obi-Wan was supposed to be back at the temple in the afternoon, but he had slept through his alarms on Alderaan — his body exhausted from two weeks of travel and negotiations and pretending like he enjoyed the company of the politicians around him. Still, he can’t help but feel a little bad about his tardiness.

A spring bounds itself to Obi-Wan’s steps and he rolls his eyes at his own energy. Of course the one time he’s well-rested, he’s adjusted to the wrong time zone. A group of nocturnal Jedi conversing together in the hallway stare at him as he passes them by. He offers them a wave and ignores their questioning stares.

Despite his unexpected energy, he is relieved when he gets to his apartment. While Obi-Wan loves to travel beyond the smog-saturated atmosphere of Coruscant, he is always most content within the walls of the temple.

Quietly, he waves open the front door and takes soft steps through the foyer. With a flick of his wrist, a lamp switches on, bathing the entire living room in a warm glow and revealing golden hair peeking out of a bundle of blankets.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan questions in surprise. “What are you doing on the couch? It’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you sleeping in your own room?”

Anakin blinks at him tiredly. The childish part of Obi-Wan that still remains can’t help but feel some sort of smug satisfaction at being the one to wake up Anakin for once. Normally, Anakin is the one hell-bent on keeping Obi-Wan awake. But the feeling does not last when he gets a closer look at his padawan. Flushed cheeks, unfocused gaze, sweat-soaked hair. Obi-Wan kneels down next to Anakin.

“Hey,” Obi-Wan says gently. “Are you feeling okay?”

Anakin shakes his head no.

Obi-Wan grimaces. “You should be resting in your room. What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you. You’re late.”

Guilt swells in Obi-Wan’s chest. He rests his hand on Anakin’s forehead and winces at the heat.

“That’s a pretty bad fever,” Obi-Wan murmurs more to himself than to Anakin. He moves his hand down to cup Anakin’s cheek and the boy leans into the touch. “I thought Master Plo was supposed to be checking on you twice a day?”

“He was. He came by this morning. I felt fine this morning.”

“And not this afternoon?”

“You were supposed to be here this afternoon,” Anakin states, blinking big puppy dog eyes up at him. The sticky feeling of guilt intensifies.

“Why didn’t you call for Master Plo? He would have come back and helped you.”

“I thought you were coming.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan sighs. “And I’m really sorry. But I’m here now okay? I can take care of you now.”

Anakin nods. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan gets up and starts rooting around the kitchen. “I should make you some soup. When was the last time you ate? I bet you haven’t eaten today. Oh Force we have nothing here. Okay, okay let me go find you something, and then we can—”

“Master,” Anakin says, cutting him off from his ramblings. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start thinking out loud.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says sheepishly. “Well, have you eaten?”

“I ate this morning.”

“That was a long time ago,” Obi-Wan says. “I think.”

“Don’t care. Not hungry. Don’t feel good.”

“You might feel better with something in your stomach,” Obi-Wan suggests.

“Don’t think so. And isn’t it the middle of the night? No one eats in the middle of the night. It’s not a meal time.”

“Time is made up.”

“What?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. Maybe now is not the best time to bring up his existential musings. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m still on Alderaan time. It’s throwing me off.”

Anakin narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “I don’t want any soup,” he declares.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Fine. But I’m making ginger tea and you will drink it.”

“Ugh,” Anakin grimaces. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

Obi-Wan begins making the tea, his hands going through the motions on their own accord while his thoughts linger on Anakin. He was only a few hours late. Still. Guilt continues to coil around him like a snake. Obi-Wan can feel Anakin’s distress still clinging to his Force presence. He was probably scared and he was definitely disappointed. Obi-Wan frowns at the thought.

The high-pitched whistle from the kettle makes him shake those thoughts away. He brews the tea and returns to the couch to find Anakin half-asleep and shivering.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Let’s get you to your actual bed. It will be warmer there.”

Anakin nods but makes no move to get up.

“Come on, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, setting the tea down on the side table. He pulls the blankets off of Anakin and he shivers even more.

Obi-Wan guides Anakin to his bedroom and he slides into bed. Obi-Wan starts to pull the blankets up over him, but the Anakin pulls them away on his own. “I can do it,” he says sharply.

“Oh, can you now?” Obi-Wan says with a raised eyebrow.

Anakin huffs in reply, already tangling himself up in the sheets.

“Are you still mad at me?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin gives a petulant nod and it takes everything in Obi-Wan to smother his laughter.

“That’s too bad. I got you something while I was gone.”

Anakin perks up slightly. “You got me something?”

“Mhmm,” Obi-Wan hums. “But since you’re so mad at me, I know you probably won’t want to accept any gifts from me, so I’ll just hold onto it.”

“Wait,” Anakin says, sitting up. “I’m not that mad.”

“Oh really?” Obi-Wan teases. “You can forgive me for all my transgressions?”

“Some of them,” Anakin says tentatively.

“I guess that will have to do for now, huh?” Obi-Wan says as he digs through his robe.

Anakin nods his assent and watches Obi-Wan with bright eyes.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago when you brought home that loth cat?”

Anakin perks up even more. “Did you get me a loth cat?”

Obi-Wan cringes. He probably shouldn’t have led with that. “Kind of,” he says.

Obi-Wan presents the stuffed loth cat he picked up on Alderaan to Anakin and the boy’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Master!” Anakin says, giddy with excitement at the prospect of being given a gift. He probably hasn’t received too many gifts in his life, Obi-Wan thinks a little sadly.

“You’re most welcome, Anakin.”

“Why did you get this for me?” he asks, his eyes not leaving the stuffed animal.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan falters. “I saw it and it reminded me of you.”

Anakin pulls his eyes away from the loth cat to give Obi-Wan a disbelieving look. “Really?”

“Really.”

At that, Anakin jumps forward and throws his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan smiles at the reaction, but worry creeps back in when he can feel the heat still emanating from Anakin’s body.

“I’m glad you like it,” Obi-Wan says. “But I think this is enough excitement for one night. You need to get some sleep if you want that fever to go down.”

“I’m not tired.”

Obi-Wan sees the lie for what it is, but he indulges him anyway.

“Well then, why don’t you lay down, and maybe you’ll start to feel tired?”

“I don’t think I will, Master,” Anakin says, even as he starts to settle back into bed. He lets Obi-Wan pull the blankets over him this time. The stuffed loth cat is held tightly in his arms.

“Wait here then. I’ll go get you your tea.”

Anakin groans. “I don’t want it.”

“It will make you fall asleep,” Obi-Wan insists. He ignores Anakin’s protests as he ducks out of the room and finds his way back to the living room where he left the tea.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan groans to himself as he notices for the first time all the droid parts littering the floor and the coffee table. He takes a moment to straighten everything out before grabbing the mug of tea and heading back to Anakin’s room.

“Now, I know you don’t like it, but I promise it will—” Obi-Wan cuts himself off when his eyes land on the form of his Padawan. His breaths have evened out and his eyes are closed. The blankets are pulled up to his shoulders and the stuffed loth cat is nestled under his chin.

Obi-Wan stands in the doorway, smiling softly and sipping on lukewarm tea.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 26: Prove It

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: violence

SUMMARY: “Nova!” Din cries again, and you squint and try to push yourself up and out of the dirt, but you’re wounded and you’re so damn tired. You mean to just take a beat and then hurl yourself up off the ground again, but you get stormed with another hit, and you realize they’ve hit you with tranquilizers again, and it just seems so much easier to surrender. Whoever they’re working for, whoever’s after you, they can take this win as long as you get to fall into this sleep on the way there. Hazily, feeling deprived of your oxygen, you think about Din, and you weakly look up for him, where he’s fighting off the rest of the battalion that wants to spill both of your blood all over Takodana’s ground.

“Run,” you manage, weakly, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the beskar like a laser beam.

His face, still helmeted, still covered, is in front of yours, crystallized, just for a second, but it’s enough. “There’s not a fucking chance,” he says, voice convicted through the modulator, “that I am ever leaving you again.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!! this chapter is...so much. such a wild ride. such a rollercoaster. it's 10k+ words, and almost all of it was written in a single sitting because it just would not stop coming out. my fellow happiness and fluff lovers, we are finally (close) to the other side! with that, i'll stop spoiling the chapter until you can read ;) more notes, as always, at the end!!!

*

You kiss him. For what feels like hours, you kiss him. He doesn’t push you more than is tongue parting your lips, the hungry way that he sinks up against you, apologetic and raw. Din knows that you’re in control. You know you’re in control. Everything has been flipped on its head, and you hate it, you hate it, you don’t want to wield power over anyone, let alone the man you love, even if he has broken your heart clean through, so when you pull away, he doesn’t follow you.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whisper again, through the silence. He sighs, but not with exasperation.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I ever will.”

Din’s quiet. You open your eyes, just a flutter of your eyelashes, really, and when you look at him, he’s not staring at you. He’s on his knees, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, like he’s asking for repentance. Or praying. Or begging, but he’s so silent in his grief it startles you. “If you don’t,” he whispers, finally, “I understand. But please don’t—”

“Leave you?” you interrupt. It’s not nearly as bitter as you thought it would be. “Don’t worry,” you continue, quieter, “that’s not my move.”

He winces. “Nova—”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” you say, earnestly, “really, I’m not, but y—you need to know how much it hurt me. You broke my trust. You gave me family again, a real family, and then you just took it away. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But it doesn’t matter, because you did.”

“I know,” Din manages, his eyes opening slowly and catching on yours. “I know, and I think I’ll be sorry about that forever. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, I mean that.”

Because he’s so genuine about it, so honest, it makes you want to get mad and challenge him. But there’s a peace to his penance, his atonement, and it just makes you stare.

“Even if I leave you somewhere,” you say, “you’ll follow me. Right?”

His gaze is complicated. “Yes,” he says, finally. “I’m not letting you get hurt again because of a mistake I made.”

“Din,” you start, and he holds up a gloved hand. You’re so tired. Sotired. You don’t want to fight anymore. It’s exhausting. Trying to grieve and stay angry and constantly be on the run—it’s killing you. Your shoulders ache. The scar carved in your stomach hurts late at night, and even though it’s probably phantom pain—hurting because everywhere else hurts too—that added jaggedness makes it almost unbearable. So you just let it go with the air out of your mouth, just staring at him.

“I’m tied to you,” he repeats.

“You keep saying that,” you enunciate. “What do you mean?”

“Mandalorians choose their families,” Din mutters, “I chose you. That doesn’t go away—that feeling, that tie—even in death.”

“Does it go away when you leave your fiancé in the same place that you started your life with her?” you ask, but it’s tiredly, with no daggers.

Din stares at you. There’s something hidden behind his eyes, something hungry and forlorn and deep and yours. “Not for me,” he says finally, and his gaze lingers on you for just a little too long.

But before anything, you’re saved by the bell again.

“Rebel girl,” a familiar voice floats through the comm, “come in whenever you’re ready.”

You breathe, for what feels like the first time in years, a sigh of relief. “Wedge,” you manage, slinging the helmet back on to talk to him semi-privately. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice—”

“I’ve been trying for days,” he says, and you sink back into the pilot’s seat. “Your frequency was jammed up.”

“Ran into a few Empire ships,” you say, glancing at Din, who’s standing there, half in the shadows, trying to make sense of who you’re talking to. “I got sick of them trying to radio me. Plus, I didn’t want to call you first and send any more your way. How’s the base?”

“She’s shot,” Wedge admits, voice tinny, presumably from turning away to inspect the wreckage of the structure on Hoth, “but she’s standing. No fatalities. They were more interested in you than they were with us, so they just volleyed over a bunch of blasts and then went into warp. No one was seriously hurt,” Wedge repeats, “so let out that breath you’re holding.”

You do. “I’m so glad you’re all okay,” you breathe. “Um, Wedge?” You pause, looking over at Din for a fraction of a second before you barrel on, “did—did you hear from Luke again at all?”

Wedge sighs. “No,” he says quietly. “I’m afraid, honestly. I know Luke can hold his own against a lot worse than Moff Gideon, but—”

“He’s alive, and fine,” you cut him off, all in one breath. “I didn’t see him, uh, but my fiancé did.” At this, Din turns toward you. Just slightly, almost imperceptible, but you notice. “He took my kid. Grogu. Luke took him off to teach him, I think, protect him.”

“Thank the Maker,” Wedge says. It sounds sarcastic, coming out of his mouth, but you know he’s being serious. “And you? Were you able to find your family?”

Din can’t hear the other end of your conversation, not after you put the helmet back on. “Yes,” you breathe, finally, “yeah, I did.”

“I hope you know,” Wedge says, sighing, and there’s that fatherly edge in his voice again, “that if you’re ever in a tight spot, or a bad situation, or, you know, facing up against the dregs of the Empire, I want you to call me. We’re here to help you. And I owe you a favor.”

“Well,” you say, chancing another look over at Din, who is pretending to be preoccupied with the space outside, but he keeps sneaking glances over at you, “I could cash that favor in now, if you’re willing. Do you know where the safest place in the galaxy is for a Mandalorian who can kill troopers without lifting a finger and a Force-sensitive Rebel pilot that has ticked off the rest of the surviving Empire? We need to lay low for a few days. Figure out what the next plan is.”

“Well,” Wedge sighs again, “honestly, the safest place would be with Luke.”

Your heart clenches, staring up at Din. That’s not an option, not after he had to let Grogu go, not after what he just went through. This part of his life—Grogu’s—needs to be his. “That’s not an option,” you repeat out loud, finally, closing your eyes. “Not now, at least. I’d go back to Dantooine, but I really don’t want anyone dangerous following me into the shelter I stayed at.”

“Coruscant,” he says, and you shake your head vehemently, even though he can’t see it. “Joke. Not a good one, sorry. I didn’t mean that. Does it need to be in the Outer Rim?”

“No,” you say, honestly. “Preferably, yes, but if it means no Empire thugs on our backs, we’ll go pretty much anywhere.”

Wedge is quiet. For a minute, you think that the connection just completely cut out and you’re listening to nothing, and then he breathes again. “I can give you the names of some planets. A lot of them are deserted or at least desolate enough. The others are much busier. I don’t think any planet like Dantooine, with cities in places and completely untouched in others, is safe right now. You need to either blend in completely or stay out of sight at all. At least for a few weeks, you need to stay quiet and lay low.”

“I thought,” you manage, your voice lower, “that with Gideon preoccupied, the threats would stop. Not stop, maybe—that seems foolish to assume when it comes to me—but at least that people would slow down. Stop chasing me.”

Wedge sighs. “You’re good,” he says, simply. “Too good. And I mean that as a compliment, as in you won’t kill people unless it’s in self-defense, and I also mean it in the way you run instead of attacking. You play the offensive when everyone’s expecting you not to. You’re kind and you’re giving and even if you didn’t have a target on your back, they’d be looking to exploit you. From Luke’s message…” he trails off and sighs again, and a shadow obscures your vision, and you look up at Din, silently standing over you, “it seems like there’s more danger than we bargained for. You just might be at the center of it.”

You close your eyes, rubbing them until you see stars. You’re so tired. Again, all of the exhaustion in the galaxy seems to be hanging even heavier on your shoulders, and you have to press down on the knots with your thumbs to get them to budge even a little bit. “I’m tired,” you admit, out loud. Din bends down, and you kick your chair to spin a bit away from him. “But don’t you—or the rest of the Alliance—dare to step in now. I can handle Gideon’s men, and I can handle the other troopers. You all need to stay safe and strategize. I’ll call you from whatever planet we end up on next, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“You,” Wedge says, “are wise beyond your years, rebel girl.”

You sigh, finally looking up at Din. His helmet’s still off, and it’s nearly impossible for you to tear your eyes away from his heartbreakingly handsome face. “I know. Tell me if Luke says anything, and stay safe.”

“The planets,” Wedge interjects softly. You had completely forgotten you had asked for them at all. Your breath catches in your throat. “Malastare, maybe. Naator, which is largely a peaceful planet—”

“I’ve been there,” you interrupt, your heart aching for Naator’s serenity, the hope and love it gave you. It feels like a lifetime ago. “Anywhere else?”

“Wasskah,” Wedge answers, finally. “It’s completely remote these days. One of our pilots flew out there a few weeks ago, and reported no signs of life except for animals. If you want deserted, there’s your answer. I know you aren’t itching to return to Coruscant, especially considering how easy it was to be spotted the last time you were back there, but somewhere busy and metropolitan might be the place to go.”

Your heart sinks. None of these sound like very viable options, due to Din’s past and your own emotional connections to them, but you don’t want to tell Wedge that he’s been unhelpful. Saying a quick gratitude seems like the nicest way to exit the conversation, and it’s just starting to bubble up on your tongue when Wedge speaks again.

“I’ve heard,” he says, and his voice sounds distant. Not like he’s moved away from the microphone of the comm, but like he’s lost somewhere in a memory, “about Takodana. From Luke, and just through the grapevine. It’s supposed to be a refuge, almost, and there’s people from all over. Most seem to be runaways or like they’re trying to start a new life, so I don’t think anyone will pay you excessive mind if you don’t look too long at them either.”

You breathe a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you, Wedge. That’s perfect. We’ll head there. Thank you, seriously,” you repeat, looking up at Din. He’s turned away from you, staring at the space around you. You swallow. “Stay safe, please. And don’t you dare rush into battle without me.”

Wedge’s laugh crackles around the comm. “Take it easy, rebel girl. I mean it.” And then he’s gone.

You turn back, slightly, looking at Din. “Wedge—my friend—he suggested we head to Takodana. It’s supposed to be a safe place for refugees, and no one will look twice at us.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Hey,” you say, a little louder, the toe of your boot knocking into the beskar. “We have a safe place to go.”

“I’m going to put you in danger,” Din says, lowly, “you’re right about that, too.”

You sigh. “I’m the danger. Remember? I’m the one the Empire dregs are after, not you. You’re gonna follow me anyway,” you say, but it comes out softer around the edges than you intended, “might as well save on fuel and travel in Kicker.”

Din cocks his head. It looks silly without his helmet, and even more endearing. Your heart clenches. “Kicker?”

You smile, something small and in the shape of a half-moon. “Kicker, yeah, my ship. She doesn’t like to do anything unless you pound on the dashboard, especially with a swift kick. She’s a rebel, like me.”

Din stares at you, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I—how did you get her?”

You stare back. “You left me, I went to Hoth, Wedge gave me the ship. I earned her, really, with maintenance and rewiring and anything else they needed, and she was too much of a junker for anyone to seriously use her. But I made her fly, and they let me keep her.”

Din looks across the expanse of the cockpit. It’s not like the Crest was. There isn’t as much liminal space in the windows, the starship skinnier and longer rather than deeper and wider, and you’ve filled this place up with so much warmth. You picked up a string of lights back on one of the planets you passed through, and you’ve hung them up. The blankets are a mixture of the ones you picked up from the base on Hoth, old clothes you’ve nested, and the one that Din wrapped up for you on Yavin. His eyes catch on that one especially, and you try not to internalize it. “You hate being a mechanic,” he says, his voice quiet.

Despite everything, you laugh. “True,” you offer, looking over the complicated dashboard. “I’d choose to do pretty much anything over trying to fix something. But it turns out, I’m actually kind of good at it. Who knew?”

A small smile spreads across his face. “I—fuck, Nova, I missed you.”

It’s out so fast that you don’t know how to react. You want to make him work for it, but again, you’re so tired. You blink, and then admit it. “I missed you, too.”

The moment lingers. It’s not interrupted like it has been before, no one immediately showing up on your trail. It lasts for a few seconds too long, and you’re afraid you might just give in if this lasts for much longer, and then Kicker, the strange savior she is, starts bleeping.

“Damn it,” you sigh, poring over the dashboard. “What’s wrong now? You have fuel, we haven’t had to use the blasters recently, we’re not nearing any ships—” you get caught off guard when she screams even louder, a long, high-pitched shriek, and then, like it’s simply time, she stops. You stare, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Okay, Kick,” you mutter, “fair play.”

Din looks at you. “Do we need to…do anything?”

You stare out at the open expanse of space. It doesn’t seem crushing anymore, volatile, hungry, You’ve forgotten how it felt to have someone out here in the blinking blackness with you, how less lonely it makes you feel. You swallow. “No,” you manage, faintly. “She’ll scream like that sometimes. If something major happens, we’ll know.”

Din seems to be satisfied with that answer. He makes his way back to the copilot’s chair, relegated to your usual spot. The role reversal doesn’t feel strange anymore—you in charge of the starship, of your destination, of your relationship—but the complete flip-flopping of it makes a tiny smile break across your face. You don’t know exactly where Takodana is, but you know how to get close, so you punch in the coordinates for the Mid Rim and slowly slide Kicker into warp. It’s quiet out here, just the slight shaking of the ship’s faulty stabilizer, and the way that space sounds when you’re hurtling through it, and you fold yourself up on your chair, perching. This has always been your favorite part—well, second favorite, after getting out of a blaster fight up here completely unscathed—just focusing on the space and the way it bends and pushes you through it, like it’s meant for you. Like you belong here.

Din doesn’t say anything. You can feel his gaze on the back of your head, where half of your hair is hanging out of your braid and dancing around your face. His want to push it behind your ears is kinetic, something you can sense all the way back here.

“What?” you ask finally, your voice low and quiet.

“Nothing,” Din murmurs back. You don’t dare to turn around. It’s agonizing, but you don’t. You just sit there, eyes focused on the weird blueness of warp, trying to predict what Din’s going to say before he speaks again, because, at this point, you know that regardless of him being a man of few words, he has more to speak. “I just—it’s nothing.”

And somehow, you know. “You miss him.” Your voice is small. Din sighs, in the acknowledging way that he does, and you know he’s talking about Grogu. “I do too,” you say, voice still quiet. “A lot. So much. Did he…did he seem happy? Going off with Luke? Like it’s what he wanted?”

Din’s quiet. You exhale through your nose, biting down on your lip to steel yourself, and then you swivel around in the pilot’s chair. He’s staring at you, a slight hunch in his shoulders. He looks smaller, more unsure. Even fully dressed in his beskar, save for his helmet, he looks defeated. You try not to let your eyes roam, but you can’t help yourself. He’s hunched over, like he’s wounded. He is. You are. It’s exhausting, feeling this way, being so close and still so alienated. You want to forgive him, especially when he looks like this, but there’s some small, bleeding part of you that can’t let the feeling he gave when he left you—heartbreak, betrayal—go. It lives on, hungry, even when every other cell in your body is screaming at you to forgive him, to go over, to press your lips to his and let it roam.

But you don’t. You can’t. It feels immovable, so you just sit, aching, in the silence.

“I think,” Din says, finally, his words slow, like he’s choosing them very carefully, “that he needed to go. I don’t know if he wanted to; he was miserable after we—I—left you on Dantooine, and when he got stolen, the look in his eyes when I saved him just…” Din fades out, quiets. “He wanted to be home. With me. With you. But when Luke showed up, something shifted. I can’t talk to the kid—Grogu—like you can. But I know him, and I know he knew this was what he was waiting for.”

You swallow, around tears. “Did—did Luke have anyone else with him?”

“His droid,” Din offers, jaw clenching. “And he mentioned something in passing about Grogu not being the only kid he was training, but that was it.”

“Wedge,” you start, staring at your cuticles, “think that with Luke is the only safe place. Especially me, since I’m Force sensitive , and it seems like every menacing person in this galaxy is after me. I don’t know why. Did—when you spoke to Gideon, did he say why they wanted Grogu?”

Din shakes his head. “Cara and I,” he says, finally, “we—we had to go through some unsavory means to find out where Gideon even was. One of their scientists says they needed something from the kid, something in his blood. I—microbes, or something? It started with an M. I stopped listening when he told me they wanted to harvest something from Grogu, because I just wanted to shoot and drop him on the spot.”

“Midichlorians,” you say, voice distant. “That’s what they wanted to harvest.”

Din startles. “That’s it,” he says, and your eyes focus on the hairs that make up his mustache, how groomed they are, how much stock he took in trying to make himself presentable before he found you on Tatooine, without his helmet, without anything. “How do you know that?”

“I…don’t know,” you answer finally, your tone still faraway. “I just do, somehow, that he has them. Anyone with the Force has them, I—I guess. I’m not sure if it’s something that can be harvested, but if that’s what they were after, that’s why Gideon didn’t care if he took me or Grogu.”

Din sighs, low and heavy. “Nova, I—”

“Why?” you interrupt, fingers flailing around your neck, closing around nothing.

“Why what?”

“Why did they want the midichlorians?” you say instead. “Were they for Gideon? Were they for—for someone else?”

Din squints, as if he’s trying to remember. “I don’t think they were for Gideon,” he says, voice low, strange, strained. “But I—I have no idea. The dark troopers they have now, they’re indestructible. It’s insane. One alone nearly pulverized me. Until the Jedi—Luke—showed up, we were all lost. Something is coming, Nova,” he interrupts himself, “something big and dark. I didn’t realize it before, when Gideon was just after us, but I see it now. They’re gearing up for something big.”

“Yeah,” you say, sliding your thumbnail between your teeth, “yeah, I came to that same conclusion when I was on Dantooine.”

Din’s gaze finds his gloved hands, and then, without warning, he starts yanking them off. “I need you to know—” he starts, and then Kicker throws you out of warp. It takes a few seconds for you to find your bearings, to turn yourself right side up, and when you’ve gotten the ship under control, Din’s mouth is closed, and your heart is hammering with the possibility of what it could have been, but you’re too afraid to ask. You throw your focus entirely into calibrating the dashboard, making sure that Takodana is set in the ship’s nav system. For a while, that’s all you do, until you slowly breach the atmosphere, turning your radio on in case you have to signify that you’re arriving, a refugee, as a friendly person and not an enemy. No calls come in, but you coast slowly, glancing around at the ground. There’s a forest, but when you pull out of it, you see a giant lake and a town that looks like it’s functional as more of a city, everything slapped together with random materials, rooms and whole buildings built on the backs of others. It gives you that same eclectic feeling that Dantooine did, and the same sense of community that Naator gave you. You swallow, roughly, past the lump in your throat, and head to the other side for a landing strip, anywhere you can park Kicker out of the way.

Once you’re docked, in a landing bay just as strangely populated as Takodana’s main metropolitan area, you swaddle yourself up in a cloak and the lightweight trousers you got back planets ago, a light tank top over the top, blaster strapped to your thigh. Everything you’re dressed in is simple, inconspicuous. You tuck your hair back behind your ears before you pull the large swath of fabric up over your head, trying to look as unrecognizable as possible. Your fresher is small and doesn’t have the best mirror, so you just try your best to look as normal and unnoticeable as you can.

Din, on the other hand, looks even more conspicuous without his helmet on. You look at him, watching carefully, as he climbs down the ladder and heads towards the gangplank.

“Wait,” you say, softly, grabbing his helmet off the floor. “Wear this, Din. Please.”

It’s the first time you haven’t said his name in anger, so he whips back around and stares at you.

“I can’t,” he repeats, voice troubled. “I—I took it off,”

“On Tatooine,” you remind him, emphasizing the planet’s name, “to a nearly empty cantina in the dark.”

“Not just on Tatooine,” Din says darkly. “When we were trying to save Grogu, we went undercover to Morak, trying to track down Gideon’s whereabouts. I was accompanied by…someone I used to work with. I had to take the helmet off to log into the system, because it required a face scan. Mayfeld—the accomplice—saw it, and so did everyone else in the mess hall before it ended in the shootout.”

“Did—Mayfeld—did he say he was going to blast your face anywhere?”

Din shakes his head. “No. He told me he’d forget all about it.”

“And I’m assuming,” you continue, shifting your weight back on your other leg, so you can put more emphasis on holding the helmet in the air, “that everyone else who saw you died in the shootout. Right? So that’s what, five people, maybe?”

“No,” Din says again. “I—I had to take it off for the kid, to show him my face. Before I left him, I wanted to give him a way to recognize me in the future. So the Jedi saw it, and Cara, and Bo-Katan, and Koska, and Fennec, and Gideon—”

“Bo-Katan,” you say evenly, “is the ruler of Mandalore, and she shows her face all the time.”

“About that—”

“Listen,” you cut in, sighing, wriggling the helmet at him to catch his eyes, “I know your Way is different. But that wasn’t the first time you broke the Creed. You broke it for me first,” you remind him, raising your eyebrow. “You broke it for me first, and you put it back on after. You can wear it again, Din,” you tack on softly, your gaze traveling over his face like you’re hungry, before you can control yourself.

He just looks at you, and then, right when you’re working up a big speech, he takes it out of your hands and slides it over his head. You feel him hesitate, but the second the helmet hisses back into place, you see his stature change, see the way he carries himself, assured and strong. You nod, pulling your makeshift hood up over your own head, and when the first blast of pleasant air hits you, you breathe a sigh of relief.

In the last month—since you were abandoned by your family and chased across the galaxy by anyone willing to hurt you—you haven’t let your guard drop, not once. You were reckless, and a little careless, but you got so frightened of being found, of being discovered, that you’ve been on the run, subconsciously and consciously. But now, on this planet, with Din back by your side, you feel like you can exhale. Not much—your breath still catches horribly in your chest—but enough to not constantly have your thumb on your blaster, your head whipping around to check behind you.

It feels like it did before. In this one small way, if nothing else.

You walk. Din walks. Neither of you say very much to each other, just trying to move as quickly as you can to the town center, casting glances sideways at the people you pass to ensure they aren’t calling after you, or mentally putting the bounty back on your head. Almost no one even acknowledges you, and the people that do give you small smiles before they tuck their heads back on, clearly as anxious to stay unnoticed as you are.

Finally, you arrive on the steps of a giant building that you assume is the cantina. When you walk through the heavy doors, it is indeed in part a cantina, but it also looks like a restaurant, a safe haven, a store, like all of these things are halved and then stitched together. The band is playing a lively tune—more jazzy and jangly than the ones in the cantina on Tatooine—and people are constantly roaming. You find a small table tucked off to the side, and lead Din over there. It’s secluded, and you shift so he can have his back to the bench, his gaze to the room, like always. You don’t even realize you’ve done it until he relaxes, just slightly, and you hide your smile in the palm of your hand over your mouth, gazing out at the people.

There are more aliens than there are humans, species from all over the galaxy, some you’ve never seen before, others you’ve never even heard of. They’re captivating, loud, entertaining. You feel like you could spend weeks in this exact spot and not get bored. Eventually, a server droid comes over and you order a small dish of porridge and the biggest pitcher of water they offer. Din declines anything, but you make him order water, too, and then the droid is gone, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I should find us shelter,” Din says lowly, “a place to stay.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I just figured we’d stay in Kicker,” you say, happily accepting the water the droid brings. “The small fee that the docking station has would be less than any housing we find here, and I have plenty of blankets.”

Din stares at you. Even under the helmet, you can tell. “I have credits,” he whispers, quiet enough that you have to strain to understand what he’s saying underneath the modulator. “We can—stay at a hotel, or something, an inn—”

You blink at him. “One bed or two?”

He balks at you, cocking his head. “Well—”

“I’m messing with you,” you say, grin spreading across your face before you can stop yourself. “No shared bed until I forgive you.”

“Ah,” Din manages, and you can tell you’ve ruffled him. You let the smile linger on your face as he leans back, away from the closeness. “So there’s hope for forgiveness?”

“I never said that,” you answer, diplomatically, looking back over at the crowd, but you have to force your tongue to stop curling into the word yes.

Days pass. A handful, three, or five, but you’re not sure. Din still sleeps downstairs, and you stay snuggled up in your nest of blankets, telling yourself why you can’t go down there, why you’re holding your resolve. Conversation comes easier. Sometimes, you go out walking by your own, and from the best of your ability, you can’t catch him tracking you. Takodana is beautiful—green and lush, and the lake stretches on forever. You go in up to your thighs one night, the water cold but refreshing, and if you close your eyes to a squint, you can pretend you’re on Yavin.

The cantina stays loud and busy, and the people here are kind. Most keep to themselves, but the mingling conversations at meals gives you that social interaction that being on base did, and even though you’re not actively being a Rebel right now, you can feel the energy. Din talks to you, you talk to Din. You find out that the owner of the cantina—town hall, center, whatever it is—is tiny. She’s named Maz, and she sees through everyone’s bullshit. You hear men three times her size try to lie about their gambling or their spending, and she calls them out every time. Her eyes—small but hugely magnified by her glasses—are knowing, wise. Older than you think she is, but you can’t exactly figure out what age she might be. She’s only looked at you a few times, but when she does, you feel her gaze see through some veil you didn’t even realize was there.

One night, you take your food to go sit by the lake. Din follows, at a distance, but you sigh and beckon him to sit with you. There’s a large boulder, and he sits there, facing you, to quickly scarf down his food before anyone can come by, even though it seems like he’s more lenient with who can see him these days. You sit there with him, quiet but strangely comfortable, even after everything. When the sun slips over the horizon, you stand, suggesting a walk through the woods close to where the treeline is. Din doesn’t follow you, so you go alone, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk away. You try not to think of it as metaphorical.

It’s peaceful, serene. On Takodana, the sun takes a while to set. The planet isn’t huge, but it’s not tiny, either, and you know there’s likely more to it than what you’re seeing, especially since Wedge recommended it. The greenery is everywhere, like it was on Kashyyyk, but it’s much less forest than it is a light cover of trees, and you can see through the gaps of the leaves towards other small towns clustered around the major metropolis. It’s not desolate, and it’s not the city build like the one on Coruscant. You walk, your legs aching a little under the rocks and hills, but you’re not in a hurry to really get anywhere, and for once, you’re not running from something. There’s a darker grove of trees up on top of this small mound, so you crack your neck and breathe through your mouth and start to climb it.

Almost immediately, you feel it. It’s the same exact sense of fear and foreboding that encircled you, white and freezing, on Dagobah. That same kind of dark, sacred energy, the feeling of something horrible happening here. Maybe in the past, maybe in the future—you can’t tell. It’s hazy and slick and heavy, and you want to get down the hill, to run back towards where the light is still coasting over the horizon, to find Din, but you can’t. It’s like your legs are frozen in place, like everything you are right now is simply frozen. You try to yell, and it comes out horrible and strangled, and before you can stop it, you’re hurled straight into a vision.

It’s dark. So dark, and then there’s the ignition of a lightsaber blade. You try to pull yourself away from it, unnoticed, but then the tall, dark figure in a mask much more foreboding then Din’s lunges at you. Evil, you think, skittering backwards, watching as the saber lights red and dangerous, flame coming out both sides at the hilt. You hate it. You hate him. It’s a weird feeling, something dangerous and scary in the pit of your stomach, because you don’t know who it is. Who this is. And it’s not a hatred or a fear you feel now, either—it’s something you know you’ll feel later. Which means whatever—whoever—this is, they’re not here yet.

But it’s still terrifying. His voice is loud and booming, full with venom. He’s menacing and scary and big, and he lunges at you again, and when you roll away, the vision changes. It’s not the tall, dark figure anymore—it’s Grogu. It’s Grogu with Luke, and it’s so vivid you can reach out and almost touch him, and then another child moves forward. His ears protrude out from under a mop of black, dark hair, and even though he’s alongside Grogu, giggling and laughing with Luke, there’s something off about his energy. You can feel it. Grogu can feel it too, you can just tell, and you’d be willing to bet the few credits you have that Luke, alongside the two of you, notices it too.

The vision changes again. It’s you, and Din, and you’re in a building. It’s not anywhere you’ve ever been, you don’t think, but it seems strikingly familiar. All the terror, the white and hot kind of panic you felt a second ago, is gone. There’s something fearful in the pit of your stomach, still, but you look over at him, and something quiets. “Are you sure?” he asks, and it’s low, and his voice doesn’t seem like it’s coming from him, like there’s something in the way of you being able to really see him, and you feel yourself nodding. It feels like something in you is unhinging, releasing, being wiped clean. Then, out of nowhere, you’re being hurtled out of the vision, and you roll off to the side, legs kicking wildly until you find solid ground, like everything has been knocked clean out of you, the air, your breath, everything. You scraped your ankle on one of the rocks, but you’re otherwise unscathed, so you take a few huge breaths to replace the rest of the lost air in your lungs, trying to get back to baseline.

You still feel it, how dangerous and awful the energy is, even after being hauled out of your vision. You shiver, just a little, and then slowly start making your way back to camp, trying to figure if you should check the landing bay for Kicker first before you make your way all the way back to the lake, but you hear shouting—loud and violent enough to somehow know it isn’t from the overspill of people in the canina—and your fight-or-flight kicks in, and you’re running. This time, though, you’re running towards the fight instead of away from it, and when you get close enough, you spot the troopers.

They’re wearing that slightly altered armor, like the ones back on Ryloth, and that alone makes your blood seep cold through your veins. This time, you need to strategize. That tranquilizing dart was no joke, and if you’re not careful, you have no doubts that they’ll try to knock you out again. Usually, stormtroopers are terrible shots—these ones, though, these seem ruthless and calculated, and you’re good at evading, and they got you anyway.

You crouch behind a few buildings, eyes chained to where the battle is. You’re tired. Of everything—arguing with Din, keeping people an arm’s length away, trying to make sure that you stay alive at all seconds because there’s a permanent target on your back—but especially from this. Fighting. You close your eyes for a second, trying to let everything run out of you backwards, the molecules that make up your body rising and rushing. You aren’t intending for this to simply be the Force talking, but you feel it swirl up inside you, tangible and real even in its fluidity. In the flash right before you feel fortified enough to go out and start fighting, you see something. Yavin. It’s Yavin. Not the Yavin you just visited a few months back, not the Yavin that greeted you with its greenness and desolation when you were there, but the Yavin it was. Simultaneously, you see yourself flying in the X-wings, hopping across the stone plates in between the grassy knolls, hurtling underwater on the sandy beach, opening your eyes to the current, and, right before it ends, you see your parents’ faces.

And you are every bit their daughter, so you do what you have to, and when your eyes open to the scene again, you’re fighting.

The troopers are clad in white, but their armor seems to be more streamlined. You take down the first few with your mind instead of a weapon, targeting the ones on the edges so that anyone in the thick of it isn’t aware of the ones that are dropping like flies. In and out, you dart, trying to be quick and efficient, jumping from shadow to shadow to stay hidden. You’re not the best at this part, the precision it takes to be undetected and ruthless, but the makeshift hood you have draped over the upper half of your body helps, all the fabric you’re wearing loosely fitted and easy to contort yourself in. You take breathers as you pull troopers to the ground, kicking up a spray of the dusty, red earth to obscure the people you’re dropping, and then disappearing back into the night until the battle rises up against you again.

It’s not like doing barrel rolls in Kicker, and it’s not like faking out TIE fighters in space, but you’re getting the hang of it. You’re faster and more intentional with every one you pull down with the Force, reserving stunner blasts only for when you know you’re about to be spotted.

And then you see him. In the middle of the skirmish, as always, is the glint of Mandalorian beskar. You sigh, allowing yourself to rest for a split second, just watching as Din takes down troopers with his bullets and blasts, no mercy, no mourning. He’s outnumbered twenty to one, and it’s like he has a fully-fledged army in that suit of armor. You’d bet, under the helmet, he’s not even breaking a sweat. And somehow, despite it all, despite everything, you smile. This isn’t the man that left you on Dantooine. This isn’t the man who doesn’t know how to apologize for breaking your heart because his own is just as fractured. This is the man who rescued you on Nevarro, the man who put gunshots into every thug who’s touched you without your consent, the man who calls you the purest thing in the galaxy right before dropping anyone who tries to corrupt you, the man who broke every single one of his rules for you.

So you do what you do best. You make momentary peace with all your hurt, all your grudges, and you run. You run into the flames, into the intensity, making your presence known. And instead of running away, you stand in the heart of the circle, and you challenge the troopers to come at you instead.

Din’s yelling at you to get back, the troopers are attacking you with double the force they were expelling on him, but everything in your mind is vivid and clear. You take down a handful of them with a nod of your head, the glint of intent in your eyes. Finally, the troopers on the very edges of the battle are starting to wake up, so you dive under the legs of others and shoot your blaster to stun. The girl whose hand shakes when holding a gun is long gone. You���re intentioned, measured. You’re barely even exerting any energy, because they’re doing it all for you. All you need to do is evade, to tuck and roll, and you’re so good at playing the offensive that when you have the high ground, no one is expecting it.

“Nova,” Din calls, and you somersault towards him so the two of you can battle back-to-back with the more ferocious troopers that are still standing. You tuck and roll and lose your hood, but you don’t need to be incognito anymore. Your name means to shine. So you do.

For a second—a fleeting, glittering second—the two of you have dropped an entire regiment. You look over your shoulder, just for a moment, and you can tell you meet Din’s brown eyes underneath his visor, and something in you quiets. There’s no uneven ground right now, there’s no tallies. It’s just the two of you doing what you’ve always done best—protecting each other in the heat of the moment, communicating through knowledge alone.

And then the second ship comes in. The second regiment, the relief, they’re more hardened and even more bloodthirsty. You feel your weight in your knees when you stagger forward, thumbing your blaster in one hand, holding out your palm of your other one, dominant and resolute. It’s harder, this fight, because the twenty-five new soldiers are even more ruthless. You get shot. Once, and then twice, and they’re both flesh wounds, but they’re on both of your arms, so your dexterity is broken, beaten down. You fall to the dust, once, then twice.

“Nova!” Din cries again, and you squint and try to push yourself up and out of the dirt, but you’re wounded and you’re so damn tired. You mean to just take a beat and then hurl yourself up off the ground again, but you get stormed with another hit, and you realize they’ve hit you with tranquilizers again, and it just seems so much easier to surrender. Whoever they’re working for, whoever’s after you, they can take this win as long as you get to fall into this sleep on the way there. Hazily, feeling deprived of your oxygen, you think about Din, and you weakly look up for him, where he’s fighting off the rest of the battalion that wants to spill both of your blood all over Takodana’s ground.

“Run,” you manage, weakly, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the beskar like a laser beam.

His face, still helmeted, still covered, is in front of yours, crystallized, just for a second, but it’s enough. “There’s not a fucking chance,” he says, voice convicted through the modulator, “that I am ever leaving you again.”

You want to protest, want him to get out of there safely, want to tell him that okay, yeah, you’re going back on your word, but you forgive him, because if you’re going to be dragged away by some sort of evil entity even worse than Moff Gideon, you want your big bad bounty hunter boyfriend to come after you and slaughter anyone who lays a finger on you, but you can’t get your mouth to move.

Din’s helmeted face bobs down again, and you open your eyes to the visor. You’re horizontal, and so is he, and then he’s pressing his face against your forehead, just like he always did, in absence of his mouth on yours, of an apology, of a saving grace.

“I—” he starts, and then he’s up and fighting again, and you can’t tell if you blacked out or not, but your body is getting kicked and prodded, and you feel like you’re being lifted into the air, but you can’t tell, everything is swimming, unfamiliar hands all over you, and one trooper’s hand curls around your neck, the other one tangled in your braid, forcing your head backwards. You’re thrown back down on the ground, knees slamming into the dust, and when they try to get you to look upward, you train your vision on the stars instead.

This isn’t how you thought it was end. You register all the weapons in the vicinity slowly be trained on you and Din, who’s also held hostage by the other troopers, and when you focus your eyes past him, you see the open gateway to the hills everywhere, and you realize, somehow, when everyone’s attention was on you, Din let everyone in the town escape. You’d be willing to bet not a single one of them were harmed, because his big body of beskar intervened and obliterated every single menace.

And you love him. Maker, you love him, and the thought alone makes something tangible and horrible bubble up behind your eyes. You’re so angry at him, still so exhausted, still so hurt, but you’re either about to have your throat slit by stormtroopers or be forcibly taken to someone who wants to break you limb from limb and drain your blood for your Force sensitivity, so you need to say it. You need to tell Din you love him, even if you don’t forgive him yet.

“It would be merciful to kill you right here,” the trooper in front of you croons. Your vision is still blurry from the tranquilizer and the grip he has on your throat, but you set your jaw and put as much menace in your eyes as you possibly can. “But you’ve made this very hard on us, and I want to drag it out until our master gets to have his way with you.”

He says your real name, the one on the bounty puck, and you grin. “What?” he growls, and you spit blood out of your mouth, look up at the full moon, and suddenly, you’re fortified. Your eyes close, and this time, you don’t see your parents. You don’t see your life flashing in front of you. You see Luke Skywalker taking down the dark troopers. You see yourself holding off Moff Gideon with your own two hands.

And then you see Din with the Darksaber.

It’s a catalyst. And, still, everything suddenly clicks into place. Din wasn’t holding a higher frequency vibroblade way back on Ryloth when he found you. His helmet was off, showing his face to everyone. That’s what he meant when you first landed, here, why he started to tell you about Bo-Katan.

“Before you torture me and send me off to whoever your boss is,” you say, strained, every atom in your body summoning the Darksaber to fly out of Din’s restrained hand and into yours, “you should really make the effort to get my name right.”

“Stun her,” the trooper in front of you spits at the one with his hand tangled in your braid, and you take the moment to square your shoulders, flex your wrist.

“My name,” you whisper, “is Novalise Djarin. And I’m not scared of you, or the darkness you bring.”

The trooper in front of you grabs your throat again, dragging you upwards. Din is yelling in the background, and you can see him struggling against the six men that are trying to contain him, but you close your eyes and call for the saber, silently and clearly.

And the second you’re upright, it does. It flies through the air, metal and wicked, and when it lands in your hand, you ignite the blade. It goes through your cuffs first, then into the arm of the man who’s holding your hair. It’s sudden and violent, and you’re unrestrained as you drop him. The one in front of you is still holding your throat, and you want to drive the blade right into his heart, but you stomp on his foot and send him howling to the ground as you move the saber around, slicing at limbs and fingers and shins, the dangerous flicker of the blade powerful and right in your hands. You don’t kill a single one of them, even though you want to, because Wedge was right. You’re too good to end someone’s life when you can make them regret laying a finger on you for the rest of your days. And because Din was right, too—you are the purest thing in the galaxy. And all the men with their blades and their threats and their fists fight with the darkness that you’ve never let touch you.

Once all of the other troopers are wounded on the ground, you drag the one who threaten you, who closed his hand around your throat, up against the building. You pin him there with the Force alone, and you look in his eyes as he’s choking for the air you’re depriving him of. “You tell your boss,” you say, evenly, calmly, even though the exhaustion is pulling you down, even though the corners of your eyes are still blurred and deprived of oxygen, “that the next time he wants me, he can come after me his own damn self.”

With that, you release him. You stride over to Din, pulling him off the ground with one hand, heart hammering, breath heavy and thick in your throat, your lungs, and you observe the fifty men the two of you dropped.

“Also,” you call out, just to anyone who’s listening, because you’ve earned your right to leave them with something shiny and intentional after they tried to drown out your spark, “my name means light. Think of that the next time when you try to come for me after dark.” You drag Din to his feet, and you’re not even sure if any of the troopers are conscious after you sliced through sinew and bone, but you’re pretty damn proud of yourself. In the window the cantina, you see Maz Kenata, who didn’t flee alongside the rest of her town. Her eyes, magnified by the ginormous inspecting glasses she wears, are trained on you. You smile, saluting her, and she returns it. It feels huge, something cosmic, but she turns away in the silence as you’re trying to catch your breath.

Din slips out of your grasp. You’re still observing the scene, and you pour out the rest of your water canteen on the small fires that are still burning in the wind as you feel him head towards the ground, but he’s not passing out. He falls to his knees, the same position he was in when he pulled his helmet off back on Yavin, and before you realize what’s happening, his fingers are under the rim of the helmet, and he pulls it clean off.

Your breath—just finally replenished—drops away again.

“What are you doing—” you start, and then he yanks off his gloves again, just like he did back on Kicker, and every word that was on the tip of your tongue evaporates into the thin air.

“Let me prove it,” Din says, low and urgent.

You stare at him. “Prove what?”

“Prove that I’ll never leave you again,” he says, and you blink, trying to search for any kind of insincerity in his voice, his face, his words. There isn’t any. “Novalise, I love you.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence.

“I love you,” Din interrupts, his voice low and clear. “I’m not just saying that. I love you. I’m in love with you. I—Nova, you told me to wait to tell you until you saved me, but you’ve saved me every single day. Even when I didn’t deserve it. I should have told you ages ago. I love you.”

You’re sure no one’s listening, so you say his real name. “Din—”

“I love you,” he repeats, his grip tightening on yours, and you fall to your knees in front of him, grinning despite it all, and you press your forehead into his. “I love you, and I’m never leaving you again.”

“I still don’t forgive you,” you say, “but I want you to prove it. All of it. And I have conditions.”

Din nods. “Anything.”

“First—” you start, but then a trooper screams and rises up with a giant gun in his hand, and Din pulls his helmet back on, lunging in front of you. The beskar absorbs the blow, but he’s out of every weapon, so you spin forward, pulling the Darksaber out of your belt and running towards the trooper, slicing his blaster clean in half. When you make it back to Din, he’s on his feet, and the two of you run towards Kicker as the rest of the battalion starts waking up, injured, wounded, hurt, but still determined. You push her into warp as quick as you can, racking your brain for where the hell some semblance of safety is on this galaxy, but you just go and go and go until you’re far enough away from Takodana, far enough away from the people that just tried—and nearly succeeded—to kill you. You sit in the chair, exhausted until Din drags you onto the floor as gently as he can, with alcohol and bacta patches at the ready, and you let him clean and bandage you up, both of you wordless, both of you thinking everything. Your heart aches in your chest, with that cosmic connection, with something more, with everything you’ve missed the last months. You’re breathing again, even with your lungs this depleted.

“Novay’lain,” Din says, breaking through the quiet, “It’s Mando’a.”

You startle, so used to your shared silence, looking over at him. You can’t get over seeing his face in the light, the contours of it, the bump in his nose, his glorious cheeks. Everything about him—it looks exactly like how you remembered him, how you missed him, the man you love. “What?” Your voice comes out cracked, half silent.

“You were right,” Din whispers, voice hollow. “You told the truth back there. The word, unconjugated, means to shine.”

You swallow. “Why didn’t you—?”

“I didn’t know,” Din interrupts, and you swing your whole body around to face him, “I only know fragments of the language, Nova, enough to recognize the speech.”

You stare at him, messy hair hanging in your eyes. Everything around you is blurry and unfocused. All you can see is him, his gorgeous face, the lines written all over it. You don’t have it in you to be mad anymore. You haven’t had it in you since when he first left. All you want to do is hold him, to rush back into his arms and forgive him. It hurts. It still aches, pulses somewhere down deep and brutal, knowing he proposed to you, he showed his face to you, and then he left you. And you know it wasn’t what he wanted, that it tore him apart to do it, but you don’t forget that kind of pain, and it’s still such a beacon inside you. “What does Novalise mean?” you ask, voice quiet, echoing his question back on the Crest, back before he showed you the place he used to call home.

“To radiate,” Din breathes, and you cock your head at him, slowly moving through the momentum to press yourself up against the wall he’s leaned on, enough to reach out and touch him if you wanted to, “to shine in silence.” It’s a mirror image to where you sat together back on the Crest, but this time it’s different. It’s yours. You have all the power here, and all you can do is stare.

“I was right?”

He looks right at you, those dazzling brown eyes, and you feel your heart strike you straight through. “You were always right. About everything.”

“Din—”

“I can’t give you anything,” he interrupts. “I can’t—I’ve shown my face to people, I’ve lost the kid, the Crest, you.” His face looks so much more sheltered here than it was when he showed up maskless on Tatooine, unsure and turbulent with being exposed to the light. “You tried to warn me about it, all of it, and I didn’t listen. And—I thought I’d felt loss before,” Din whispers, and you try your best to not let the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes fall down your face, “but when I lost you and I lost the baby in one massive, ridiculous fuckup, that was worse. Than anything. I mean it, Nova, whatever your conditions are for me to prove that I’ll never leave you again, I’ll abide by them. I’ll do anything for you.”

You swallow, trying to close the gap between you two, but he lifts up a gloved hand, palm flat against your chest. You feel the absence of where your mother’s necklace used to be, and you close your eyes against his resistance.

“I don’t deserve you,” he repeats, guttural. There’s no light behind his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t—”

“It’s not about deserving,” you whisper, ignoring the way his hands fall dead and flat you. “I lied. I—it’s not about being right, and it’s not about deserving.” He shakes his head at against you. “When did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed into a ridge in the middle of your forehead, “when did you know when you loved me?”

“When you told me your name,” Din says, voice still so fucked and hollowed out.

“My name is Mando’a, Din,” you say, the timbre of your voice wavering. “My name is Mando’a, and your name means noise, and we make each other quiet. I knew it the second I met you, I felt it. There’s no one else. It’s you and me.”

“Novalise,” he starts, and when you try to protest, you have no choice but to talk over him.

“It’s not about deserving,” you say, voice stronger, “it’s about belonging. I belong to you. I know you. Whatever bad you’ve done, whatever mistakes I’ve made, we’ve already been punished for them. I still don’t forgive you, but I’ll let you spend the rest of our lives making it up to me.”

“Nova—”

You get up on your knees, chancing out your hands long enough to poise them in the air around his face. Din makes eye contact with you, and you move forward into touching his face. His eyes close.

“Keep them closed,” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard, and he nods, just once. You kiss him, sure this time. And with Din’s lips on yours, with forgiveness the next thing on your mind, you’re energized. All the exhaustion, all the hurt, it’s all slipping away as you kiss the man you love, the man that loves you. It’s like everything led you back here.

*

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*

AAAAAAAAAHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! trying to keep Din and Nova apart these past few chapters was such a huge feat, and attempting to do justice to both of their emotions, feelings, and heartbreaks was so difficult to do when all i wanted was for them to kiss and make up!!!! ultimately, though, i think we've earned the reunion that comes around this chapter, and i'm so excited to share it with all of you!!! <3 we are indeed slowly nearing the end of SM, but i promise, the sequel will be coming almost immediately after! i have this last arc planned, so i'm pretty sure we'll at least have two or three more full chapters, but whenever the last one comes, i will let you know! thank you all so much for everything, for loving my story, for coming with me on this journey!!

CHAPTER 27 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JUNE 26TH!!!

xoxo, amelie

[kumqu4t]

In (Gold) Sickness and In Health

Pairing: Human Female!Reader/Thorin

Request: @anjhope1 requested a human reader with Thorin for the prompt: “I’m done. We’re done.”

Brief Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies and Thorin’s actions under the Gold Sickness, you wonder if things between you and Thorin will ever be repaired.

Warnings: Violence and injuries

A/N: Gold sick Thorin is a gold mine (pun intended) for angst. Thanks to @anjhope1 for being so so patient and kind!!! I’ve never really written anything other than headcannons and I really enjoyed this!! I have a long list of fic ideas that I hope to write after school ends and this really got the ball rolling! :D

 @fromthedeskoftheraven (who inspired me to actually start writing <333)

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 “Thorin?” You called into the seemingly empty castle. Your voice echoed hauntingly. No response. You turned the corner and ventured into the treasury, though a part of you hoped you would not find him there. It was the only place he ever seemed to be, and not for good reason. You followed the sound of digging and hushed whispers. There you found Thorin talking to himself in furious murmurs, his voice tinged with hysteria. He seemed to be digging through the millions of glimmering treasures, bringing each item close to his face for a thorough inspection, and then scoffing angrily and throwing it over his shoulder at the discovery that it was not, in fact, the Arkenstone. You approached him quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip worriedly. You were soon only a few steps behind him, his back to you, yet he made no notice of you.

“Thorin?” He didn’t even flinch. You, about fed up with all of this, put your hand on one of his shoulders and lightly shook it. He whirled around instantly, a mad expression on his face that only eased slightly when he saw you.

 “Ah, (Y/n). How have you been?” He asked absentmindedly, his gaze still stuck on the gem in his hand. 

“Well, I’ve been better I suppose. Things are not looking good out there Thorin. I worry.” You made sure to keep your voice as non-confrontational as possible, because if you were being honest, you were a bit afraid of Thorin at the moment. You weren’t sure if you even recognized the dwarf in front of you. He finally raised his eyes to look at you. His lips curved into a slightly mad smile, one that showed altogether too many teeth. “You have nothing to worry about, my love. Once I have the Arkenstone, everything will be taken care of. The world will finally put itself to rights.” His eyes seemed to reflect the very gold covering the floor. You frowned at this response. 

“Thorin, I know finding the Arkenstone is important to you, but I don’t know if it is the… greatest concern at the moment. The people of Laketown need our assistance, and there is talk of an orcish army heading our way.” Thorin’s head snapped up, and he took an intimidating step forward. You were almost nose to nose.

“Finding the Arkenstone is my one and only concern, as it should be yours,” he snarled. “Are you not on my side? Do you not want to see me as King?” You took a tentative step back. 

“Of course I’m on your side, Thorin. I only want what is best for you.” Your voice turned stern. “But a King should be generous and fair, should know when to help others. 

“A King,” he growled, “is measured only by the amount of wealth he has. If I don’t have the Arkenstone, I have nothing but these pathetic jewels.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your stomach churned at hearing the words he spoke. This was not Thorin. The man you knew and loved, who once spoke so passionately of honor and loyalty. Your sadness and grief were soon overpowered by anger. Not only does he speak such horrid, greedy words, but he would dare be so dismissive and uncaring towards his own beloved? 

“You have nothing?” You asked in disbelief, your voice hard. “What about me? Your wife, remember? What do I mean to you? We have spent almost no time with each other since Laketown, I am surprised you even remember my name,” you said bitterly. Thorin’s eyes seemed to lighten a few shades. But it was still not your Thorin. And his next words only proved that. 

“I have not forgotten about you amralime. I will have you. Seated on a throne next to mine. Adorned in precious jewels and fine cloths. My most prized possession.” 

You suddenly lost all of your fear. Fists clenched tight at your sides, you spat out, “I am not a thing to be had! I am my own person.” 

“You are my wife!” He roared back, “You will do as I say, and you will like it!” Your lip curled in disgust and dismay at this.

“Is that really what you think marriage means?!” Your tone, while still angry, held a hint of desperation, as if you were hoping Thorin would apologize for whatever sick joke this seemed to be. But alas, that did not happen. He only stayed silent, his eyes unfocused. Whatever clarity they had gained earlier had once again vanished. 

The harsh silence created a lump in your throat. You swallowed once, and in a shaky voice said, “Well, then. I am afraid I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know who I am looking at. Who even are you? This is not the Thorin I know and love, not the Thorin I married!” 

His mouth opened in outrage, prepared to no doubt yell back, but you continued before he could get a word in. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore,” you started. You grabbed your marriage bead- elegantly and thoughtfully crafted by Thorin, and once so tenderly braided into your hair- and harshly ripped it out. You definitely pulled out quite a few hairs along with it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

You curled your shaking hand around the small bead, and spoke. “I’m done. We’re done.” In a fit of intense anger and disappointment, you chucked your bead straight at Thorin’s head. You instantly ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction, fearing his reaction. You figured he did not see that coming, and was frozen in shock and confusion for a moment.

As you sprinted down the vast empty hallways, you heard Thorin’s enraged roar in the distance. You ran and ran and ran. You quickly gathered your belongings when you passed the room you had been staying in, and made your way out of the mountain. You said goodbye to none of the company. You ran and you didn’t look back. You squinted your eyes, trying to find your way in what was left of the daylight. 

Tears ran in rivers down your face, and they didn’t stop. Not when you found Bard in Laketown. Not when you reunited with Bilbo and approved his plan. Not when you came across a small room to spend the night in. 

You slid down the wall of the room, sobs tearing at your throat, as you looked at the split pieces of hair that once secured your marriage bead. How could everything have gone so wrong so fast? Smaug was dead. The mountain was reclaimed. Everything was supposed to be back to normal. You were supposed to be living happily in Erebor with Thorin. 

But you weren’t.

You screamed into the night, “Why? Why?” Why did things have to happen like this? Why did Thorin have to be struck with the Gold Sickness after everything he had been through? Why did you two not gain happiness and peace? Did you not deserve that? 

There was no answer. The universe was silent. 

You were not only angry with Thorin. You were angry at yourself. Were you a coward for reacting the way you did? Did you give up too easily, running right when things got hard? Maybe you were a coward, but you simply couldn’t stand to see Thorin like that any longer. It made you sick to your stomach and tore at your heart. 

With a wet laugh, you thought back to your wedding, which took place only about a month earlier. It is odd how things can change so much in so little time. That day had been the happiest of your life. Now here you were, at your lowest, with not even your husband to comfort you. 

The company had been staying in Laketown for the time being. After a much needed relaxing night (free of the stress of orc attacks), you awoke blearily to Thorin’s smiling face. His rough hands tenderly cradled your face.

“Will you marry me?” He asked it in such a soft tone, and you were still so tired, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a strange, albeit wonderful, dream. After clarification that it was not, in fact, a dream, and a discussion with Thorin, you two decided to get married that very night. After all, you two were each other’s Ones. Why should you not? You were crazy in love, and you two hadn’t known contentment like you did during this resting period of the quest. There was also the lingering fear that one, or both of you wouldn’t survive for much longer. 

After your affirmative response to Thorin’s question, tears of joy were shed by both of you. That day was full of warm, fuzzy feelings (and frantic planning by Dori and Balin, who despite being quite pleased with the decision, were extremely frazzled with the short amount of time left to prepare). You didn’t have an expensive, ornate dress (you borrowed one of Sigrid’s). There wasn’t a huge crowd. Just the company (plus Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain- Sigrid and Tilda because they wanted to experience the romantic declaration of love and commitment, and Bain because, in his words, his sisters “forced him to come”). 

But it was perfect. It was all you could have wanted. Kíli, ever the jokester, insisted on being the “flower girl.” Fíli was the bead bearer (like a ring bearer, but with beads, because you and Thorin wanted to do it the dwarrow way). Balin was the justice of the peace. Bombur made a wonderful cake, especially considering the lack of resources.

It was a magical day. Your wildest dream had finally become a reality.

You remembered the vows from your wedding. You remembered the promise you made on that day. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’ You couldn’t help but snort at the unfortunate irony of that. 

You wondered what Thorin was thinking right now. Was the gold sickness still plaguing his mind? Or was he too thinking back to your wedding day, to the broken promises left between you two? 

You crawled into bed and tried to calm your thoughts, to no avail. You laid your head on the flat pillow, feeling oddly numb. You let your eyes flutter shut, a lone tear escaping to trail down your now puffy face. 

No sleep was had that night. 

 ———————————————

 Around you, the battlefield raged. You had arisen early in the morning, for the orcish army was no longer just a rumor, but a promise. A promise of war. The knowledge of the bloodshed the future held electrified you, helping you to use your fear and anger to aid your fight. You wielded your sword with ferocity and confidence, a scowl on your face as you quickly swiped at the blood that dribbled down the side of your face. Your head swiveled at every sound as you frantically looked to see if you recognized any faces around you. 

You plunged your sword into an approaching orc, making a face at the horrid squelch it produced as you pulled out your blade. You ran across the battlefield, swiftly killing any orcs that dared get in your way.

What you saw in the far distance, through squinted eyes, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

You saw Thorin, fighting Azog on the ice. 

You watched as the pale orc fell off of the chunk of ice he stood on, and into the murky abyss. You prayed to all of the Valar that he was dead. But fate was not on your side. You watched in horror as a knife plunged upwards from below the ice and impaled Thorin’s right foot. 

You heard his guttural roar of pain, and your body moved into action. You ran as fast as you could, your chest and legs burning. But you were still too far away. Everything now seemed to be happening in slow motion. You could still hear the echo of Thorin’s cry in your head. 

Suddenly, Azog jumped out of the water and landed on his feet. Thorin was on his back blocking each strike from Azog to the best of his ability. All that you heard was the sharp clang of metal against metal and your own blood roaring in your ears. 

You felt something harden within you. You were no longer afraid. You had only one job, and that was to save Thorin. Azog’s blade was now only inches away from Thorin’s chest. Thorin grit his teeth and gasped deeply, using every bit of his strength in an effort to block the attack. 

You were sprinting straight towards Azog’s back. You had absolutely no plan. Common sense and battle strategy had officially left the building. Yet your rage towards Azog, who had already taken so much from Thorin, fueled your fight. 

You propelled yourself up, in a strange burst of strength, and clawed your way up Azog’s back, clinging to him. He grunted and twisted his head around. But before he could do anything more, you drove your sword into his back with all of your might. 

Azog’s roar seemed to shake the very ground he stood on. Your hands, slick with sweat, burned as they tightly grasped the hilt of your sword. Your heart sped up as you tried to pull your weapon out to strike once again, but it was stuck. Azog turned, his face now pulled into a sickly sneer, and he slashed at your shoulder with his sword. You hissed in pain, and jerked yourself away. You saw Thorin breathing deeply and attempting to get up out of the corner of your eye. 

Go, you screamed at him in your head. Go, my love. Leave and get to safety. 

Seeing Thorin in pain, thanks to Azog, filled you with a boiling rage. It filled you up from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head- a fiery, molten lava swirling inside of you. 

Your lips twisted into a ferocious snarl as your hands tightened on the hilt of your sword. You twisted the sword further into Azog’s wound, plunging it deeper into his mangled flesh. As you twisted one last time, you pulled it out with a hard gasp. Azog’s stinking, black blood splattered your neck and arms.

You still clung to the pale orc’s back and shoulders, your nails digging into his scarred skin. He thrashed and blindly slashed at you, but you held tight still. You kept your mind sharp, blocking and ducking to avoid his stabs. Reaching your hand into your bloodstained tunic, you hurriedly patted yourself down, frantically searching, until your hand was greeted by your hidden blade. 

You grabbed the hilt of the sharp knife and whipped it out. You positioned yourself so that your feet were pressing into Azog’s back. You drew your arm back and threw the blade, with masterful precision, into the back of Azog’s neck. He roared once again, his head spasming, and made to grab you. 

Unfortunately, this time, you were unable to avoid his grasp. His sharp nails dug into your neck as he grabbed you and pulled your body off of his back. He held you in front of him with only his right hand, the blade at the end of his metal arm pointed at your throat. You felt the pressure building on your throat, and a low buzzing noise started to take over. The blade dug painfully into your flesh, and you felt it begin to break the skin. All of your previous confidence had vanished. You were now at the mercy of the pale orc. 

Azog gave a sickening smile, his pointed teeth glistening with blood. He issued a raspy chuckle that chilled you to your core. Time seemed to slow down once again as he drove the blade of his arm into your side. You gave a sharp intake of breath, as if you could not fathom what was happening, before you let loose an ear-splitting yell of pain. Your voice crumbled and cracked as you screamed until your vocal cords were weak. In the back of your subconscious, you registered a voice, desperately screaming your name. You struggled uselessly, trying to escape the pain. The blade felt hot, as if your insides were being lit on fire and seared open. You wondered for a moment why he did not completely skewer you, and quickly rid himself of your bothersome presence, until it hit you. He wanted your death to be agonizing. Slow and painful. You felt the blade being slowly pushed deeper in, creating a sickening puncturing sensation, and you could do nothing. It must have been almost halfway through you at this point. He tightened his other hand around your throat, and you saw spots floating at the edges of your line of vision. 

You were dancing at the edge of oblivion, barely holding onto consciousness, when you felt your hand which dangled at your side, still clutching your sword. A glimmer of hope sparked inside you. With a guttural cry of pain, you used your last bit of strength. Your arm elongated at your side and rose before you swiftly cleaved Azog’s head from his shoulders. Your face was promptly sprayed with his blood and innards, before his hold on your neck loosened, his grasp slack. His severed head hit the ground with a satisfying klunk, his eyes glazed over. His body collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, bringing you down with him. 

You gave a low groan of pain at the impact. Azog’s arm, still impaled in the side of your torso, left the two of you attached. You slowly took your sword, whimpering softly at the painful stretching the motion caused, and sawed off the small bit of flesh that attatched the metalwork to his body. You were left sitting on the ice, a blade sticking out of you, as a ringing filled your ears. You heard your name being called, and a blurry figure made its way into your field of vision. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who it was. Once your vision cleared, you breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

Thorin was here. 

He hobbled over to you, his wounded foot dragging behind him. He lowered himself to the ice slowly. He looked at you with such sorrow as he scooted closer and cupped your face. His warm hands grounded you to reality. You felt every callous on them as he softly ran his fingers along the sides of your face, his touch only a whisper. 

“Ghivashel,” he started, his voice cracking. “I-

“No,” you interrupted, your voice hoarse from the abuse it had endured. You gave a pathetic cough and said once more in a slightly stronger voice, “No. Not right now.”

Tears ran down his face, their clean tracks a stark contrast to the dirtied skin it ran down. “I am so sorry. So very sorry. I cannot even begin to apologize for all I have-“

You reached forward and put your finger against Thorin’s lips. You gave a soft smile. “I know,” you replied. You brushed his hair out of his face gently. “We have much to discuss. Many things have been left unsaid.” You gazed into his warm blue eyes, “But right now, just be here. Be here with me, my love.”

Thorin’s lips quivered slightly as he gave a sad smile of agreement. He gently positioned you so that your head was resting in his lap. You gazed up into his face. The soft cloth of his tunic tickled the back of your neck. The warmth of his body was much more comforting compared to the harsh cold of the ice you both lie on. The pain would have been almost unbearable, but Thorin’s presence was like a balm to both your soul and body. He took on a tinge of panic as his eyes locked onto the blade sticking out of your side. Knowing he should not simply pull the weapon out, he quickly tore fabric from his body and wrapped your side with it, securing the sword into place, so it wouldn’t move and cause more damage. You reached out and grasped his hand, your fingers shaking slightly as they ran over his bloodied knuckles. 

“Thorin,” you rasped. “You are here.”

“Aye,” he replied softly, his eyes glistening in the light. 

“My bead,” you begged. Thorin looked confused for a moment, before understanding lit up his eyes. He pulled out your marriage bead, that you had thrown at him not long ago, from inside his tunic. He had evidently kept it on himself. He took your hair into his hands, and quickly wove a small braid into your hair, placing the bead at the end of it. He moved aside his own hair, showing you his marriage bead that still lie in his own braid. You gave a watery smile as you clutched at his hand.

After a pause, you spoke. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

“Always,” he replied, his voice strong. “My wife,” he added after a moment, the word an unspoken promise. My husband, you thought warmly. He ducked his head down to meet your own, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, his hand cradling the back of your neck. You responded in kind, deepening the kiss. You felt as if the part of yourself that had broken earlier had been sewn back together. You were whole again. You let out a soft sigh of contentment as Thorin pressed his forehead gently to rest on your own, his eyelids fluttering shut in the moment.

The King slid himself down, so that he too was laying down. Your head rested on his chest. His large hand rubbed soothing circles gently on your back as you breathed shakily in and out. You gazed out over the ice and saw eagles flying in the distance. You gave a grin of relief and squeezed Thorin’s hand. Healers were rapidly bustling about, gathering the wounded and tending to them. You had no doubt that you and Thorin would receive the help you required soon. 

But for now, you were here. And he was here. You were together at last, once again. Your hands intertwined in each other’s, your head tucked under his chin as he planted soft kisses on your head and murmured soothing words into your hair.

“My King,” you said softly, petting the soft hair of his beard as your hand ran over his jaw.

“My Queen,” he responded, his voice full of emotion, as he pulled you into one more kiss, your bodies melding closer together.

The eagles were coming. And all was well.

 ——————————————

  A/N 2: I hope you guys liked that! I am very new to writing, so I know I have lots of room for improvement, but I really enjoyed writing this. By the way, I do not picture Thorin and the reader dying at the end, but it is kind of a vague ending, so if you want to imagine that happening, no problem! (It would be quite tragically romantic, them dying in each other’s arms). Though personally, I like to imagine that they both eventually recover from their injuries and everyone lives happily ever after in Erebor with their beloved King and Queen under the mountain! :)

[bnhaworld]

What about a bakugou scenario where he broke up with reader a week before their graduation dance because of all that “i’m gonna be number one and i don’t need any distractions” talk but he does love her. And at the dance he sees her walk in and she looks really pretty. Then he sees she came with Iida or someone like that! Hehe sorry I love angst and drama

Pain? You got it! I hope y’all enjoy! -Calamari

Unfocused Eyes // Katsuku Bakugo x Reader

In which Katsuki chooses being a hero over being your hero.

“Don’t joke like that ‘Suki. I.. It isn’t funny..” Your laughs came out broken but the salty tears pricking your eyes were unmistakably hot with anger. You knew he was serious. You knew that he-

“I can’t afford to have a distraction, ________, you’re a liability.” He spoke with such profuse bluntness that it felt as though it were a dull knife slicing its way into your chest. “It’s not you. So don’t think it is.” 

Though his face remained stoic, his eyes were away from yours- something you had come to recognize as guilty after all these years of being by his side..

Years.. huh..

“Is that all I’ve ever been to you?!” Your words were dripping with anger, but most of all, unyielding pain as your fists shook at your side. You stared at him, pleading with your eyes that he would take it back, that you would wake up- anything to show you this wasn’t serious.

He can’t be..

“I..It’s been good while we had each other.. it’s time for me to move on. I’m going to be the number one hero and I can’t.. I can’t just..” He stared at you shakily, and after a moment of being able to complete the sentence, he stood up and shook his head. He was oddly calm about this, but the constant quaking left you sadistically hoping he was in as much pain as you were.

After a moment, he simply walks away.

It had been a long, excruciating week post-break up. You were torn apart limyb by limb, and so close to the graduation dance, too. Only more salt in the wound. 

Time is the greatest healer, and you had little to none to put yourself together before the dance. But with the support of your friends, you managed. Surprisingly well, at that.

Oddly enough, Tenya had been your greatest support through out it all. He had quickly caught on to your downfall, and as class president, had set himself up as the person to support you fully. There was comfort in him, though, he was oddly skilled at comforting you. He even went as far as to offer to take you to the dance-! 

The dance came, of course, Tenya had been nice enough to not only pick you up, but to get you personally fitted into a dress of your ideals and designs. He was very detailed in making sure to try and make this night as good as he could.

When you finally arrived, something of relief hit you. You were oddly calm, a little less distraught. You were waved over by Ochako and Mina.

“Hey, T.. Tenya?” You glanced up at him and he gave you a knowing smile. He nodded and motioned toward the girls.

“Go ahead, _______! This night is about you. So.. enjoy yourself!”

And with a grateful smile you giddily skipped over to the girls.

That was when he saw you.

Katsuki was propped up against a wall, surrounded by his boys. Eijiro and Denki were happily conversating but it was Hanta that spoke up.

“Is.. Is that _______? She looks so nice!” He commented. Almost instantly, he received a smack on the shoulder by Eijiro, and a shush from Denki. The three of them began to bicker amongst themselves.

Katsuki’s eyes lifted up and when they landed on you he felt himself shatter. He made no movement, no change in expression.. but his crimson eyes darkened with a twinge of anger. He tried to pry his eyes from you but his gaze was unwavering despite his own inner protests.

His heart panged at the sight of you so.. calm. Seeing you happily interact with your friends made him feel like an even bigger asshole than he already had. He stared at you with narrowed eyes.

He felt.. disgusted with himself. He pushed himself off the wall, and the chatter of the trio around him seemed to hush as all eyes returned to him.

“..Bakugo?” It was Eijiro that sliced through the silence but his words fell on deaf ears.

Katsuki felt his heart drop into the deepest pit in his stomach. In the midst of the bickering and his own fury, he hadn’t heard the song shift to a slow song. He failed to move, failed to do anything but watch in repressed agony as Tenya cut through the crowd to find you.

He felt as though his heart broke tenfold when you took his out stretched hand.

He watched as though it were in slow motion to him, the horror taking place before him. Little sparks decorated the ends of his hands, his lowered eyes welling up. He gulped down at the lump growing in his throat but with no avail as he forced himself to watch.

Everything played in his head. Every moment you had ever smiled with him, laughed with him, held him, every moment you said his name played in his mind like a broken record player, forcing him to relive everything he had given up.

It felt like forever had passed as he watched you dance with Tenya. The tears in his eyes had long since spilled over, and the weight in his heart pulled him apart and almost every angle. When the song came to a close and both you and Tenya parted, he watched you with enough intensity for your eyes to snap toward him.

Your eyes drilled into his, and it felt as though anger rushed over you in that moment. Your intensity matched his, and though his was pure blue, yours were filled with anger. 

Tenya’s eyes flickered between you and Katsuki, and in a quiet, calm voice, he spoke, “Perhaps.. speak to him?” 

And though the words were well meaning, you found the anger built in your chest spill over in one loud huff as you rushed outside. Your eyes were spilling over with hot tears that seemed to have no end. The breeze was like a slap to the face when you finally made it outside, the wind constantly bombarding your wet cheeks.

 You couldn’t let him see you like this, you couldn’t let him be a distraction. If you were just a distraction to him, he had to be the same to you. You had to turn off your feelings, you can’t let him know he hurt you because he doesn’t deserve to know he hurt you. He can’t know. He c-

“_________.”

You tensed up instantly but you didn’t turn toward him in any way. You stood up straight, but you permitted the silence to thicken as though you were hoping for a wall to sprout between the two of you.

“________, look at me.”

“Why should I?” Out of unbridled anger, you snapped toward him, ready to scream at him with all the pain holed up in your heavy chest.. but when you looked at him, a layer of it shed away to make room for the sudden pit of rue that sprouted in you.

He looked just as torn apart as you did. He looked like you had that day. Hands balled at his sides, and body shaking with unwavering emotion. This time, though, his eyes were locked on to yours.

You harshly bit down on the need to show him kindness and summoned within you a hissing fury.

“What.. do you want..?” You asked, staring him down. You waited for a response.. anything, something for you to come at him for.

He sputtered on his own words, struggling to string together words. He hadn’t expected himself to chase after you, but his body had suddenly decided you were a necessity, and he would have hated himself if he hadn’t come after you.

“I miss you..” The words came out just as broken as he looked, voice cracked and shaky. 

You didn’t know why, but this angered you further. Your hiss became a cry out as you almost hurt your throat with the way you screamed, 

“You’re the one that LEFT!” 

Katsuki flinched and his mouth opened to protest but you had unhinged yourself and you were quick to continue to scream.

“You left me, Bakugo!” Your fists were shaking at your side and you wished with every part of you that you would stop talking and just hear him out but the words continued to pour. “You were the one that made the choice! You decided I couldn’t be there, that I wasn’t enough, that I was going to HOLD YOU BACK? Was that all I’ve been doing this whole time? Have I been..” You laughed in sour disbelief. “Have I been nothing but a weight to you..?”

Your question had come out quieter than the screaming had. It was though you had parted the silence in the air and replaced it with sadness. You stood there, quietly hiccuping and sobbing to yourself as you stared at Katsuki, almost daring him to say something to you.

He says nothing, though. He takes a step toward you and you almost take a step back but you don’t. You hiccup.

Katsuki stands in front of you, his expression almost mirroring yours in terms of tears as he silently wraps his arms around you. He buries his face in your shoulders, but you only tense up in his arms.

“I’m sorry, _______. I made a mistake.. I need you..” His voice is thick with remorse as he clutches on to you with such desperation that you had no choice but to know he was telling the truth. Your eyes widened for a moment but they quickly shut as you desperately tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, get off of me!” You sobbed louder than before, pushing and shoving. You wanted to forgive him, but you wanted to be angry at him and though every part of you wanted to just tell him it’s okay but it wasn’t okay, you hadn’t been mad enough you h-

His grip on you tightened. He hated himself so much, hearing you so broken pained him so much. He had never wanted to hurt you this badly.

“I love you. I’m so sorry.. I.. I love you so much..” 

You grew limp for a moment in his arms. And for a moment you said nothing. But after a moment, you couldn’t help it. You just gripped onto his back with matching desperation, hiccuping and sobbing.

“I hate you... I.. I love you so much b..but I hate you..!” You murmured between hiccups.

“It’s okay.. I love you, too, ________.. I really.. really do..” He whispered back, quietly rubbing your back. 

He wasn’t going to let you go. Not for a while. It’s what he should have done from the very beginning. And he was going to be sure that you knew just how much you meant to him..

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.”  Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

[writingssummit]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

song listened to while writing this: line without a hook.

an aone x g/n reader

content: aone and tackling new feelings towards reader, fluff.

warnings: small amount of angst if you squint.

word count: 1.6k words

a/n: i heard this song play on spotify at like 2am, felt compelled to write for either aone or asahi, and went with our kind, gentle giant <3 it’s slightly different from the actual meaning, but the song was just what made this idea pop into my head. i started but fell asleep at 3 LOL, so I finished it up just now :> i hope you enjoy !

aone isn’t good at expressing himself, and he doesn’t often speak. settling for stiff hand movements or staring, bowing, you get the gist. respectfully silent.

you’re both friends, mostly by chance, because you ended up being seated next to him in class.

you were the talker, he listened.

you’d even walk with him to his practices and just ramble on and on about whatever interested you that day.

you’d even stay during those practices if his coach allowed it.

it was at a point where koganegawa asked aone if you both were together.

now, he’s inexperienced with love, very very inexperienced. 

so when he was asked this, he froze in his spot. thrown off, if you will. like, baby doesn’t know how to respond.

but there’s obviously something there.

your friendship with the very tall middle blocker was something unexpected and unlikely, those around you both could never really wrap their heads around the idea. the height difference for one, why weren’t you intimidated? and it had all started with a seating arrangement.

you both were complete opposites. while aone preferred to stay quiet, you liked to talk. you filled the silence between you both, which was just fine with him. if anything, he was somewhat used to it, since he was around koganegawa a lot. not to mention he was friends with a certain #10.

“and it’s amazing to think he did it like that! don’t you think, aone?” you hold a fist in the air, clenching it for dramatic effect. he gave a small nod, and you grinned. “i thought so. say, you have practice again today, right? do you think i could stay and watch? it’s always so cool to see you block the balls like this!” you mimic the blocking motions you occasionally saw when they were in their gym. while you knew little of the game, the plays and games were intriguing enough to you to hold your interest. you even started to pick up on a few things here and there. not to mention that aone was also there. it was force of habit at this point, you were almost always around with him.

a quick glance down at you was all you needed. despite his intense looks, you had a vague understanding of what they meant. you had to be somewhat able to read him if you were to have communication of sorts. you felt your heart swell with happiness. all that was left was to get his coach’s permission, and then you could spectate again!

“haven’t you been neglecting your club?”

you cringe at coach oiwake’s question, fingers twitching as you stood by the entrance with your white haired friend. 

“w-well..you see-”

. . .

“fine.” 

“thank you so much!” you thanked the coach profusely, you thought for sure that he would’ve just sent you well on your way.

koganegawa was already inside the gym at that point, like many of his other teammates, noticing that you had come again. he slapped aone on the back with a face that could only be described as his signature look.

“l/n-chan is back again, huh? this is the third time this week, right? right? that’s a lot!” aone only looked back at you, who was settling down off to the side to watch them all, and then back at his friend.

“is it..? a lot.” he didn’t think much about it, but it was true. you did stay longer just to be here, and quite frequently, too. his coach had also mentioned that you were skipping club.

“mm, yeah! l/n keeps missing their own club, i heard. weird, right? i know we’re cool but that’s what games are for!” the energetic boy clenched and un-clenched his fists at shoulder height, sparkling. he paused, and then there was a shift in his energy. he gave aone a side eye, something new to him. 

“is l/n your s/o? is that why they’re always here? that would make a lot of sense!” 

and that was when aone froze up.

completely empty, besides the new thought that just entered his brain. he flushed unbeknownst to him, causing his own teammates to freak out. aone never blushed, this was strange for those witnessing.

and this continued throughout practice.

aone was unfocused, head empty at that point. every time he tried to shake it off, he was back at square one not long after. he was constantly apologizing to the people he was teaming with, all while you watched, oblivious to whatever was going on inside of your friend’s head.

because even though he seemed to be off today, aone was always talented in your eyes. always would be. he might’ve read those blocks wrong here and there today, but everybody makes mistakes. 

by the time practice was over for the day, it was late. you were dozing off against the wall, snoring a little because you had gotten a little tired after the day. 

which left somebody to have to wake you up. 

and aone of course did it himself. you woke up, blinking lazily when you felt a gentle nudge at your shoulder. you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, and smiled softly when you saw it was him.

“aone, is it over?”

“Mm.”

“ahhh, dang. i missed a lot. let’s get going then, if you’re all ready.” you get yourself up with the help of his hands, patting them in appreciation once you were standing.

nothing went unnoticed by aone anymore when it came to you now. koganegawa’s words were on loop whenever he just so much as looked in your general direction. he would catch himself looking away now when you looked back at him, too nervous to hold any form of eye-contact. which was very much unlike him.

you thought that he was mad at you, which made you nervous in return.

a week or so went by, and then another.

now you were quiet when you walked with him to practice.

and he didn’t know why. 

it was when he saw you talking to futakuchi with that beautiful smile of yours that he felt something even newer than whatever he was feeling around you.

he had locked onto you both, watching as you laughed at whatever his teammate was saying, and blinked when he felt a hard clap on his shoulder. it was once again koganegawa.

“mm, what’re you looking at??” he glanced over, and then pursed his lips. “ohh, i see.”

aone broke his stare away from you both, looking sulky somehow.

“jealousy?? from aone??” koganegawa was shook, to say the least. aone had a visible question mark above his head. is that what this was? must be. he didn’t like how it felt at all.

another revelation for aone, but he didn’t do anything about it.

more time went by as the two of you started to drift apart, you of course still went to practices to watch, but you had stopped going to aone as soon as they had finished up. you went to futakuchi.

he must not be good enough, if you stopped talking so much around him. he missed it, he missed being able to listen to you talk about anything and everything. 

and you didn’t even know that the reason he’s been so off around you was because he liked you too. it had never even crossed your mind as a possibility with a good ending, because you were sure there was no way that he just happened to return the same feelings.

withdrawing just made it hurt, on both ends. 

the miscommunication was getting to be troublesome, because aone wasn’t playing his best, distracted by who and when you were watching, the sadness he felt when you weren’t talking next to him, and his teammates noticed. who wouldn’t?

and you were the reason, the team knew that. it was obvious to them even before this awkward time period.

on a particular day, you were talking with futakuchi again, he was just recalling some of the plays and rules, it was a bit easier to ask him instead of aone, because he wasn’t as quiet. which wasn’t any issue, you liked him no matter how much he spoke. but this was convenient at the time for you.

you wanted to understand it more, maybe if you knew more about volleyball, aone wouldn’t look away anymore. maybe he would say more.

but he stopped midsentence and looked behind you, his face plain. with a sigh, he waved a hand. “alright l/n, looks like somebody wants to talk with you. we can continue later, yeah?” you tilt your head, but nod. 

“oh, okay-”

you felt a hand on your arm, and you turned to look over your shoulder. and there aone was.

“aone? what’s up?” you ask nervously. he had approached you this time, instead of the other way around. a welcome thing, but it kept you on your toes.

he stared you down, and you sweatdropped.

“. . .”

“I like you.”

your soul left your body right then and there. it was gone. what?? huh? your body felt a rush of relief and anxiety leave it, because oh my god, he just said that to you. 

“l/n.” he looked off to the side, and you finally realized what that was all about. he didn’t hate you.

“you don’t hate me? oh thank god, i thought you hated me, you stopped looking at me and i got so worried, i-”

“never would.” he coughed into his fist, a small tint of pink dusted across his cheeks. your eyes soften, and you hold you hands up, making grabby hands at his face. he blinked, and then leaned down towards them.

you held his face gently, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before planting a small kiss on his nose.

“i like you too, aone.”