#this comment is not from that it's from a slash oneshot

[blu-s0da]

i love what my writing does to people

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

The Past That Haunts | Din Djarin

Din Djarin x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.

A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍

Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

No one can run from their past forever.

Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.

No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.

And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.

"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.

As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.

With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.

"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.

You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"

He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.

"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."

This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."

"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."

The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.

"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.

"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.

"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"

With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.

"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.

Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.

"Y/N!"

It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.

"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.

The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"

It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.

You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.

"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.

The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.

Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.

"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.

"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.

"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.

"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.

"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.

It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.

"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.

You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.

He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."

You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."

"And nearly got yourself killed."

You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"

Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"

Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.

"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.

"Help me get him to the Crest."

And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.

||| Months Prior

Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.

You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.

Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.

Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.

The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-

"Hey, you!"

The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.

"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.

"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.

Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.

"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."

You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.

Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.

You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.

With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.

As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.

Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-

You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.

This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.

Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.

You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.

A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.

You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-

A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.

Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.

His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.

A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."

"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.

"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"

The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."

It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.

"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"

"Can you hunt?"

He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.

"No, but I-"

"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.

"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"

"Can you fix the ship?"

You were getting frustrated now.

"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"

"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"

It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?

As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.

And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.

"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"

"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.

"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.

The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.

"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"

This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.

"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."

He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."

"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"

"Could you give him back, please?"

"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."

The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.

You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.

Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.

"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"

You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."

"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.

"So you are his father?" You challenged.

The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.

He was going to let you stay.

"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.

"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.

"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.

Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.

"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."

The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.

|||

You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.

He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...

Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.

Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."

You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.

"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.

He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."

You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.

"What is it?"

You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.

"Today...scared me."

The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.

"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.

"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."

He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.

"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."

His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.

"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.

"Din-"

"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.

The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."

The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"

You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him

"There is nothing to forgive, Din."

His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.

"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."

And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.

|||

You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.

The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.

By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"

Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."

The two of you knew better.

"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.

Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.

"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"

Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.

"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.

"You'll see."

Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.

You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.

"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.

You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.

"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."

When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."

"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.

You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"

The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.

"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.

"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.

"Din, what-"

"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.

"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.

You heard him take his helmet off.

"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.

"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."

His skin. His skin was touching yours.

Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.

"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."

His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.

"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"

What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.

You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.

And yet, in the next second, you knew.

Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.

This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.

You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.

As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.

"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.

And then he was gone.

You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.

When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.

|||

In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.

Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.

"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.

"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.

"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.

"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.

"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.

"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"

The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.

"No." Din replies gruffly.

"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.

"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.

"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.

You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.

"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"

"Three."

He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.

"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."

Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.

"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.

Clan of three.

Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.

"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.

"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.

"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.

"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."

"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"

You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."

His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.

Until he clicks open the next puck.

That's when your world comes crashing down.

The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.

Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.

No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.

Din says your name, slow and guarded.

No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.

You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.

But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.

"Y/N, what-"

You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.

You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.

"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.

You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.

"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.

"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."

"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"

You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.

The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.

"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."

"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"

"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"

Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.

Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.

He taught you that move with a blaster.

And now, you've saved his life with it.

You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.

"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.

You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.

Let you go.

||| Din Djarin

When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.

There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.

There was no her.

The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.

This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.

He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...

What the hell happened? How did he-

The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...

Stars

A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.

The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.

The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.

The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.

"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.

"What-"

"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.

"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.

"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.

"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.

"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"

He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.

"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."

Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"

Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"

The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.

"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."

With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.

Felucia.

He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.

And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.

||| You

It was strange, being on the run again.

Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.

And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...

You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?

Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.

That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.

It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.

You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.

The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.

A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.

A tracking fob.

You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.

"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.

Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.

Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.

Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.

"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.

You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-

Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.

"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."

"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.

You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.

The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.

"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.

You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.

Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.

She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.

You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.

You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.

A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.

Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.

"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.

"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.

"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"

"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."

The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.

The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.

You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.

It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.

You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.

And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.

"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."

You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.

You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.

"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.

"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.

"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.

The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.

"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."

It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."

"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.

"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."

You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.

"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"

He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.

That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.

"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.

Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.

The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.

His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.

"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.

Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.

"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.

"I am."

The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.

Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.

"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.

"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.

The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.

Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"

"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.

"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.

"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.

"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."

You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.

"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.

"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."

"You think I can't protect you?"

"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."

"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.

"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."

"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"

His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"

"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."

His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.

"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.

He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.

"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."

You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.

You simply nodded, "Okay."

Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."

There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.

"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"

The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.

You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.

"So this is what you've been doing all this time."

It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.

Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.

"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.

"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."

There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.

You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.

“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.

"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.

"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."

The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.

He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.

Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.

"Don't-"

His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.

Then, it was silent.

Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.

"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"

His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.

"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."

He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.

"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.

You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"

You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.

"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."

His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."

Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.

You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.

"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"

You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.

"He's with Peli, safe and sound."

You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."

Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.

"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.

"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."

His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."

Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."

You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.

"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."

In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.

His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."

Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.

"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.

The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."

Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.

Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.

[hwanchaesong]

"Hardcore"

SugarDaddy!Jongho X F!Reader 

Synopsis: Bodies under the sheets, buddies over the streets

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, cursing, drinking, kind of like forbidden love, university setting, cheating (i do not condone this), friendly banters, oral (m&f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talking, mentions of other sexual activities and hints of public sex, petnames, TXT Beomgyu's special appearance, etc etc mdni!

word count: 7.5k

/ATEEZ Sugar Daddy Oneshots Masterlist/

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"I just saw an insect fly inside your mouth."

You yelped and pursed your lips, turning around in your seat to glare at the boy who spoke behind you, a teasing grin on his face as he proceeded to sit beside you.

"Hello to you too, Beomgyu." you rolled your eyes and continued eating your lunch while your friend laughed at your lack of usual defensiveness whenever he points out your dumb countenance.

He went and picked one of the fries on your plate, your protests falling on deaf ears, "You should give me your food and eat his bulky ass instead." he says, subtly pointing at the man that you were previously gawking at.

Another comment from him that made your blood pressure spike.

"Don't you ever shut up?" you slapped his hand away from your tray, "And no, I will not do that, you dipshit."

Beomgyu raised his hands in defeat, feigned concern gracing his annoyingly charming face, "I was tryna help you."

"What do you want?" you groaned, looking at him and inquiring what his deal is, and like a lightbulb turned on in his head, he finally blurted out a news that you'll surely dread.

"I wanna inform you that we have swimming lessons for PE today." he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, hinting at something which you immediately understood.

This is seriously not happening right now.

Your eyes naturally trailed over to the guy that you're currently interested in, chatting away with the science teacher (Lee Chan) on their table, which conveniently is your physical education teacher.

The previous one was a girl, but she had to take a leave from teaching for a while due to her pregnancy. Then your school just had to hire a hot dude for a substitute.

Choi fucking Jongho.

You weren't interested at first, but he sure as hell caught your attention when one day, he walked in on the gym wearing the tightest short that you had seen a man wear.

His thigh muscles are bulging, threatening to rip the flimsy fabric and you have to mentally kick yourself for staring.

That was the first one.

Strike two happened when a boring discussion about hand grip turned into him breaking an apple in half, a thought running in your mind that made you realize that you're doomed.

"I wish I was that apple."

You want to be that piece of juicy, red fruit just to be what? To be broken in half by his large hands?

Well damn, you're nuts for that one.

It should have been fine, you thinking of that way of your teacher. It's a small fantasy that you could live in for a while and get over it when the time comes.

It should be fine.. but your stupid self just had to say that out loud. Good thing that the whole class was roaring at your teacher's inhumane strength. Too bad, your seatmate slash best friend heard you clearly, and now, he has an item for blackmail against you.

"Whatever," you mumbled, munching on your sandwich, "it's not like we'll be standing close to each other during the whole period."

Beomgyu smiled once more, seeing right through your nonchalant attitude, "You'll never know what will happen."

Yes, you don't know what will happen unless fate or some fucking fairy guided you into some shit. But this-

This! So damn horrendous.

You see, whenever you wish for luck to come to you, it never does, and that's fine! But.. why the fuck do you have to be so unfortunate?

Like, truly miserable as your puppy eyes went down the drain when your sucker of a bestfriend gave you a thumbs up and mouthed the most inappropriate sentence you had ever encountered (you're just dramatic.)

'Go get the apple of your dreams!'

Oh, he's so dead later for putting you into this position. Later because right now, you're currently rummaging through your brain on how to survive the next (possibly the best) events of your life.

"I'm sorry for dragging you here, Ms. L/N." Jongho's voice brought you out of your inner dilemma, making you realize that you're still here, rooted on earth and standing in front of your whole class for the damned swimming classes.

You ain't a good swimmer, but to hell with Beomgyu because the guy pushed you as the offering for the person who wants to try and act as the lead model for the swimming classes.

"No problem, sir." you gave him a tight lipped smile, inhaling through your nose and trying to keep your crazy heart rate steady.

"Thank you." he smiled back, putting his attention back to the class and resuming his discussion about the proper way to dive.

"So here, put your arms in position-"

The instructor began discussing, but you couldn't focus for gods sake.

He's touching your shoulders. His hands are on your back and oh! His fingers guiding your head to tuck your chin. This is absolute heaven and hell at the same time.

Your muscles are all tense from his magnetizing touch, enjoying all of the sensations you're feeling and you are so close to fluttering your eyelids and just let your body drown in sins when suddenly, and annoyingly, you were brought back once more into reality by Jongho.

"Please do the dive for us, Ms. L/N." he gently pushed you, giving you an encouraging smile to which you could only subtly grimace at.

Here goes nothing.

You closed your eyes, held your breath and prayed, wishing for you to look like a mermaid when you enter the water. (Spoiler alert, you looked like a dying fish according to Beomgyu.)

You did your best, as you liked to think, and you really did feel like on top of the earth when Jongho himself went over to you after classes and draped a towel all over you, giving your shoulders a warm squeeze as he complimented you for your performance today.

"Great job out there, make sure to dry yourself completely so you won't get sick, yeah?" then he smiled, walking away from you before he saw your blushing face while stammering out a proper response.

He touched you. Again. Heck, he even commended you.

And he smiled at you. Again. That's like, three times now? Yeah? Right.

Oh man, looks like you're gonna go home with some delulu thoughts.. and with a wet something down there.

---------------------------------------------------

"You like that baby?" his deep voice resonated in your ears, his chest vibrating against your back as he pounded into your behind like you are nothing but his fuck toy.

You moaned at the feeling of his girth inside you, not satisfied with your lack of response, he went and pulled your hair, earning himself a delightful yelp from you.

"I asked you a question, doll."

"Y-yes, sir." you uttered a response, scalp stinging from his hair pulling but the sensation still managed to add to the pleasure.

"That's my good doll." he smirked, his thrusts getting erratic each second. "Since you're so good, I'll let you take all my cum inside, yeah?"

"Oh god-" you moaned out loud, loving the way he talks dirty to you, "Yes, please.. I-I want it all." you begged, tears already pooling at the corner of your eyes.

"Fuck-! I'm coming!"

"Jong-"

Three knocks and a yelling Beomgyu was all it took for your dream to be taken away. Right at the fucking climax.

"C'mon Y/N! Open up, stop sleeping all the time!"

"Ugh!" you groaned, jolting up with anger and shouting right back at the boy in front of your bedroom door.

"Why the fuck are you here?!"

Beomgyu snickers and invites himself into your sanctuary as soon as you opened your door, sitting on your spotless pink carpet and bringing some snacks and a suspicious piece of paper.

You raised an eyebrow, still slightly irritated that your wet dream was disrupted but curious at what storm your friend is brewing.

"Look." he says, showing you a poster along with tickets, "A guy named Yeonjun gave me this!"

"What the fuck is that and who the hell is Yeonjun?"

"A nice senior that I met in the frat!" he happily answered your questions despite the rude tone that you used. "Let's go and check this bar, I heard that they serve a lot of good shit."

"No thanks." you sassily replied, walking over your bed and sitting down on the soft sheets.

He rolled his eyes at your snappy attitude, plopping down on your bed as well, "Don't be such a killjoy!" he whined, "Besides, don't you want to find a hot guy and get laid? I know you haven't gotten a good fuck for like... I don't know? Months?"

You paused, contemplating the offer because yes.

It has been a while since you went out and had some fun. Maybe, you can blame it on that fact, that it was the reason why you're so frustrated.

Why you think and dream about him a lot.

Maybe, you do deserve a little treat after all the hard work that you're exerting for college.

"You actually made sense," you stood up and pat Beomgyu's fluffy hair, "that's nice."

He pouts and swats your hand away, "So, you in?" he excitedly asked.

"Yeah." you let out a little laugh at his childish antics when you finally agreed, pumping his fist in the air with a 'whoosh' coming out of his mouth, "It's a good way to let out some steam."

That is how you found yourself in your skimpiest outfit and hottest hair and make-up you could manage, dancing in some club named Hybe.

The place is classy to be honest. Glaring lights of different spectrum that shines through the mosaic tiles, blaring music from the most popular djs out there, and the fucking fancy drinks that they serve.

Yeah, you could let out some steam, like Beomgyu said.

But how do you do that exactly?

You sighed and excused yourself from the man that you're grinding with on the dance floor, giving some lame excuse of running out of social battery, to which he returned with a genuine smile and telling you to rest.

'What a good boy.' you think, returning to your booth and sitting down with a sigh before gulping down a glass of cocktail, eyes scanning the area with dismay.

Maybe this is a mistake, you couldn't get him out of your head and no matter how many handsome men come your way, they do not turn you on like how he does.

You groaned, burying your face on your hand when an eerily familiar voice resonated from behind you.

"Now, why is a gorgeous lady like you is alone?"

You turned around, eyes blinking slowly like a sleepy cat because surely, this is a dream. Right? Because how come that the Choi Jongho himself, is standing in front of you in all of his sexy glory.

"Oh." you both said at the same time, an awkward silence ensued that he broke himself.

"I.. uh, okay I'm sorry I didn't know."

A hobbling reason on his part but it is true.

In his defense, Jongho doesn't have any idea that it was you, he couldn't see your face directly because of the dim lighting, but he sure as hell can see your sexy as fuck figure that has been dancing away in the club for a few hours now.

He was so, so enamored that he thought, 'Hey, maybe I should go talk to her and get some good fuck tonight.' when he saw you walk back to your table.

He did not expect a familiar face to pop up, nonetheless, his student.

A student that he had been crushing on ever since he saw the way your boobs jiggle during a volleyball class. Or the way your ass looks great when doing the squats. Or your hot skin on his palms during the swimming lessons.

Still, he knows it's wrong for him to make a move on you, his moral compass going strong and the rational part of him kicks him in the shin when he sees your surprised face at his attempt at flirting.

He was about to go back after apologizing, really, but you just had to cripple his remaining sanity.

"Wait!" you unconsciously called out for him when he was about to leave, clutching the cuff of his suit and you paused, closing your eyes and praying to the gods out there to split open the floor right now and swallow you whole.

What the fuck are you doing? Damn, what will he think of you now?

Some kind of desperate slut?

"Yes?" he turned back around, an inquiring look on his face that made you think that maybe, just maybe, you could bag him, even just for tonight.

Yeah, you are a desperate slut. Only for him, though.

"You could.. stay?" you mumbled, wincing at how timid you sounded.

"What? Didn't quite catch that." he leaned down to better hear you, allowing you to inhale his manly, musky scent.

"I, uh.. uhm. I said, you could stay." you repeated, voice louder than before but for some reason, he still couldn't hear it.

"C'mon princess, speak up. Can't hear what you're tryna say."

What a menace. He did hear you perfectly and clearly, he just wants you to say it again. With more clarity, with more confidence. He kind of wants you to beg.

"Stay." you finally blurted out, finding some conviction when he called you princess, because who on earth would do that? It kind of gave you the impression that he is testing the waters with you, like an interim check whether he could spend the remaining time of his night with you.

"Please." you added, releasing his cuff with a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

He smirked, breaking the nonchalant countenance and taking a seat beside you, his arm automatically flying on your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

"That wasn't so hard now, is it?" he whispered against your ear, his hot breath in contrast with the cold atmosphere in the club tickled you just enough to leave goosebumps on your skin. Before you could retort, he removed his arm, placing it on the table and waving a waiter to serve more alcohol.

You tried to hide your disappointment at the loss of contact, humming of approval when he asked you if you wanted to drink more.

Soon, you find yourself in a buzzing state, hazy mind, lips numb and swollen from the constant biting of the man you're with.

"God, you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this." he panted against your mouth, his rough hand squeezing your breasts through your thin dress.

"Jongho." you whined, lifting your back from the mattress, "Tell me then, how long?" you taunted, brushing your nose with his.

"Ever since I saw you." he admitted, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, trailing down your neck and attacking your sweet spot once he heard you moan from the surprise contact.

Your hands flew to his hair, "Tell me more."

Jongho groaned, loving how submissive yet demanding you are.

"I wanted to kiss you." he punctuated it with a peck, "Then I wanted to touch you." he continued, deft fingers trailing down your body until he reached your bottom, cupping your heat in his large hand, "Then I wanted to take you as mine. Claim you," his hand went inside your dress, pinching your inner thigh that made you squeak, "fuck you until you're crying."

If there is one thing that you're wishing for right now is that for time to stop. You don't want this night to end.

The man that you're pining since the start of the semester is basically confessing his desire for you, and you sure as hell is eating all that up. You didn't have to know whether his words were true or not, because you'll stupidly believe him. It shows how much you like him.

No need to worry though, everything that he's saying is the realest, deepest feelings and thoughts of you.

Jongho had already noticed you from the start. The way you talk politely, the hidden sass that only shows when you're bickering with your friends, your effort and dedication in your chosen course (which he really admires). And of course, the way you look at him like you wanted him to break you.

He saw it all, he felt it all.

And he loved it.

He loved the attention from you.

Who wouldn't? Anyone would be lucky to have you. The popular, intelligent, kind and pretty girl of the university.

But you didn't have to know such details on why he's so charmed by you. What's important is that you are on his bed, and that he's about to rock your world.

"Do it." you said with finality, gripping his hair to stare right into his eyes, "Do whatever you want to me."

That was all it took for him to go feral, ripping your dress (no bra, to his delight) and delving right into your soft chest. Your protests fell on deaf ears, because you really liked that dress, but then you couldn't complain anymore when he reassured you that he'll just buy you a new, better one.

You moan when he bites between the valley of your breast, groping your right mound while he busied his mouth with sucking on your nipple.

You are hyper aware of his electrifying touch. You feel everything. From his tongue flicking on your bud, the tugging of his fingers on your nipple, and the slithering hand down your navel that reached your panties.

"What's this?" he mumbles against your boobs, circling his fingers on the wet patch of the flimsy fabric, "Didn't take you for a lace girl." he snickers, making you slap his shoulders.

"Shut up." you whine, then you realize that he's still completely clothed. "Shut up and remove this." you ordered,  pulling the silk tie of his expensive looking suit.

"Aren't you a feisty one?" he raised an eyebrow, lifting himself from you when he felt like he's left enough marks on your chest area.

"I like that attitude," he says, removing the tie from his neck, "but I don't tolerate it, especially if my doll knows that she's not the one in charge here, yes?"

You gasped when he clutched your tiny wrists using only one hand, binding your hands together using the tie and connecting it to the bed post, rendering you immovable.

"Wha-!" you tried protesting, but he shushed you once more by pushing your panties inside your mouth.

Since when did he remove your underwear?

"Chin up, princess. Watch the show." he speaks in a deep, dark voice. Basically imploring you to glue your eyes on him as he started stripping himself.

He unbuttons his crisp, dress shirt sensually, sliding the clothing to his shoulders and my god, were you blown away.

You do know that he's sculpted, given that his muscles are almost always bulging from his outfits back at school, but to see him in this natural state of bareness registered something in you... he is ripped as fuck.

"Hngg." you twisted around the bed, trying to free yourself from the restraints to no avail. You wanted to touch him, make contact with his skin because watching is not enough. You need to feel him on your palm.

"What," he chuckles, tossing his shirt somewhere in the room and continues his mini strip show, "wanna have a taste of this?" he jeered, reaching for his belt and unfastening it too slowly for your liking.

You nodded your head fervently, batting your eyelashes at him in an attempt to make him give in and let you do as you please. He shook his head, removing his pants and undergarments in one go before proceeding to grab your jaw, not giving you a second to fully admire his naked body.. or his ginormous length.

"I did remember telling you to be patient, princess." he snickers at your fallen expression when you realize that you wouldn't be able to touch him as soon as possible, "Let's make a deal, yeah?"

Your eyes lightened up with hope, and in his point of view, you're so damn adorable despite the humiliating position that you're in.

"If you don't cum within five minutes of me eating you out," he finally utters, slotting himself in between your legs and dipping his fingers into your core, taking a swift sniff of how good you smell, "then you'll be free."

You gulped, not having enough conviction that you won't cum in five minutes because it's been too long. It's been a while since a man touched you, and you're afraid that one swipe of his tongue will immediately edge you. But for fucks sake, you have to try in order to get what you want.

You nodded again, making eye contact with him with determination, a proud smile on his face before going down town on you without much of a warning. Giving your sopping core a long lick, easily finding your bundle of nerves and sucking on it.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to cum. You tell yourself not to give in, even if his tongue traces all the shapes in your clit, even if his wet appendage goes deep into your cunt, even if the slurping noises are making you crazy.

"Ah fuck this." he cursed, inserting two of his fingers inside and curling them mercilessly, hitting all the right spots.

"Go ahead and cum, princess. Lemme taste you." he mumbles against your clit, sending nice vibrations that add to the pleasure, "Don't worry, I'll remove the tie later." he convinces you, not wanting to do the deal anymore because you're too irresistible. Giving oral like a madman is not sufficient, he needed to feel your insides as well, to give him an idea on how tight you are.

"Cum on my tongue, baby."

You writhed around the mattress, gushing around his tongue and fingers. Complaining when he didn't stop swiping his tongue on your pussy, the overstimulation getting to you.

"Sorry, sorry. Here let me." he laughs, showing his gummy smile that doesn't match the situation but still, the lights outside the house that shines through the window were adequate to let you see his amazing visuals.

He untied your wrists and got rid of the gag, giving you an apologetic smile as he rubs your red skin, probably from the harsh pulling that you did. "Got carried away." he explains, making you giggle at his sudden cute attitude, leaning up and giving him a quick peck.

"It's okay." you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on you, "Besides, we have better things to do." pushing the innuendo behind your sentence by lifting your hips, grinding against his hardness.

He hissed at the sensation, "You really do know how to rile me up." he smirks, finally positioning himself, sliding his cock in between your folds to gather some slick, "Hope you don't regret this in the morning."

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, I won- Ah!" you wailed when he went inside you in one go, immediately thrusting in an animalistic pace without letting you adjust first.

He hits the right spot when he shifts his hips a bit, the tip of his cock brushing on your g-spot so perfectly, "Oh god! Right there! Jong-" he cuts you off again, sliding his hand on your neck and choking you, shaking his head in disappointment.

"That's not how you should call me, Ms. L/N." he whispers in your ear in a condescending tone, and in a state of lust with the pressure of his hand on your neck, everything that is happening around you seems to arouse you more.

"S-sir," you panted, your nails scratching his back when he slowed down his pace, waiting for you to finish your sentence, "please don't slow down. Fuck me harder."

Jongho took a deep breath, how could he even resist you and say no when you're this pretty under him?

"That's my good girl." he grunts, pistoning inside you and holding your hips in a bruising grip, your angelic moans motivates him to do more.

The embarrassing loud squelches and skin slapping from where the both of you are connected echoed through your ears, stupefying you even more from the lewdness that surrounds the four corners of the room. Each thrust of his hits the perfect spot inside you, and your sensitivity makes you feel even the prominent vein on his thick length.

You chanted his name, Sir Jongho, as he liked to be called, signalling him that you're close, as if you, clenching around his cock still isn't enough to give him the sign.

"Close?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, sweat falling from his forehead down to your cheeks, further pounding into you with much force if that's even possible when you gave him the green light, not having the proper ability to speak.

"Go ahead, baby. Cum." he egged you on, leaning down to suck on your neck while his hand went to your clit and rubbed it harshly, pushing his cock back and forth with vigor, making it his mission to turn you into a mess.

"God, Jongho!" you howled, cupping his face and kissing him deeply, and that's what made you cum, the intimacy of the contact. Your lips on his in a chaotic, open mouthed kiss where your teeth clashed and tongued meshed around with each other.

He groaned against your mouth, releasing his seeds in your gummy walls when he felt your insides wrap around him tightly. As much as he wanted to prolong the intercourse, the pleasure was too much to handle.

That's how good you felt, he guesses.

A few minutes of silence, with only your heavy breathings can be heard passed, coming down from your highs. You felt his weight on you, but you were too spent to care. His warmth lulls you into dreamland, then everything is black.

---------------------------------------------------

You stirred around the bed, feeling icky and sore, and when you went to hug what you assumed was a pillow, you were mortified.

Since when did your pillow, an inanimate object, have the capacity to hug you back?

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a different ceiling, and surely this is not the scent that you are accustomed to.

Again, since when did your room smelled like wood and spices? You recalled it, crystal clear, that cherry blossoms and vanilla are your go to scents.

Then you hear someone's breathing, the mortifying reality draws near when you decided to turn your head from the figure beside you.

Shit.

You bit your lip, panicking but you ultimately opted to be rational for once in your life, trying to calm yourself and rethink what the heck happened last night.

You remember begging him to stay with you at the booth, drinking shot after shot until you were wasted out of your mind.

"Alright, I think we need to get you home." Jongho chuckles, stopping you from downing the cocktail. Sensing that you had enough alcohol for the night.

"Noo!" you whined, reaching for the glass in his hand, "And I don't wanna go home yet!" you cried out, clinging into his arm.

Who knew you were this childish when you're drunk, he ain't complaining though, Jongho thinks that you're like a lovely, sweet piece of candy in this state.

"Come on, princess." dropping a wad of cash on the table (payment and tip) and helping you get up.

It was bearable for the most part, you were like a feather in his arms, light and airy, but the hardest part of the short journey to his car was your incessant mewling and your very obvious actions of seducing him.

"Oh wow!" you exclaimed, drunkenly looking around his luxurious vehicle, "You're fucking rich." you tittered at the newfound information, touching the leather covering of the seat, "You're hot, handsome, sexy, and rich? What a catch."

Jongho's posture stiffened, avoiding your sultry gaze by taking a deep breath to calm his libido down, inserting his keys and getting ready to drive.

"Thanks." he says without much emotion, "Now tell me your address so you can rest."

"Ugh." you rolled your eyes, leaning over to his side and you didn't miss the way he ogled at your exposed legs and cleavage, "I told you I don't wanna go home yet."

"Then what do you want to do?" he sighs, running a hand through his hair (which you find really attractive), exasperated at the situation. Seriously, you're making this difficult for him.

You gripped his face and forced him to look at you, his eyes widening at your daring initiative to make a move on him. His adam apple moved when he took a gulp, and that made you fancy him more.

"I want to kiss you," you admitted, hands moving down to his chest, his eyes wandering on your lips, "then I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

There goes his sanity, crashing his mouth on top of yours in a heated lip lock, lifting you up easily and placing you on his lap. Despite the cramped space, you two managed to fit, and it only made the scene hotter.

"Let's continue this at my place, yeah?" he asked, moving away from you and returning to his previous position in the driver's seat.

You were in Choi Jongho's car. You made out with him. He took you to his place. You fucked each other... and now you wanted to slap yourself because of your stupidity. How could you even let yourself make a mistake, goodness, you really need to control your horny ass.

Then you made up your mind, yep. You'll escape then act like nothing happened. Yeah, that's a great idea! Genius.

You moved like a turtle, attempting to wiggle away but you were stopped by his strong arms, pulling you flush on his chest.

"Finally you're awake." his gruff voice in the morning stirred something inside you and for the second time, you had to remind yourself to not let your hormones dictate your actions.

"I'm sorry!" you don't know what you're apologizing for, but you do know that whatever you did and said last night was inappropriate, given that he was the one who talked to you first, it was you who persuaded him to have sex with you.

"I'll leave for now then I will pay for the drinks last n-" he puts a finger on your lips, shushing you as he puts a strand of your stray hair behind your ear.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for your drinks at the bar from now on. I'll even let you do your fantasies on me. Just do me a favor angel," you stared into his orbs, sleepy yet warm, "keep this between us."

And that is how you find yourself every weekend on the bar (that he, surprisingly, owns), wearing the dresses he bought you, drinking free alcoholic beverages and at the end of it all, your limbs are entangled with his. Passionate 'lovemaking' as he liked to call it.

You love the thrill of this forbidden romance.

Sneaking kisses behind closed doors, hugging each other goodbye whenever he insists to drives you home, sucking him under the table while he did his best to talk to a student that needs his help, then fucking you on the said table, right on top of the papers he's checking.

He made you happy, and you know you make him happy as well, you can see it in his eyes. But it was more evident on you, as Beomgyu pointed out how 'bright' you are that the shift kind of scares him.

You only brushed it off with a smile, telling him that you're only taking care of yourself. Even if you badly want to tell him the whole story, you suppressed it, keeping your promise with Jongho intact as to not ruin both of your reputations. Besides, only a few months left before your original PE teacher returns, then you can let loose. Announce the blossoming relationship with Jongho without any care in the world.

---------------------------------------------------

"No."

One word. It only took him one word to stain your proposal and plant a seed of doubt in your brain.

"What?" you scoffed, crossing your arms in disbelief, "What do you mean no? Are you ashamed of me?" you accused, hurt at his blatant rejection at the idea of becoming official after his contract in your university.

"No, of course not baby, listen to me," he cupped your face gently, "I'm sorry, we'll talk about this tomorrow, alright? I'm kind of stressed right now because of all the work." he smiles, giving the crown of your head a peck.

You sighed and held his hands that are still on your face, rubbing your thumb on his skin, "Okay." you resigned, trusting him with all your heart.

Come next day and everything shattered. Your trust, your heart, your world.. cluttered on his palms.

You were casually humming a tune you've heard on spotify, a pep in your steps as you walked leisurely to Jongho's office, ready to continue the conversation with him from yesterday.

Then you were frozen in your position as you heard the topic from the principal's office by accident. You weren't a nosy person, but hearing his name sparked a troubling curiosity within you.

"Mr. Choi, we really appreciate you. I was even thinking of making you a regular here." your principal speaks, but his next words brought a ringing sound in your ears, messing with you, mentally and emotionally.

"Too bad, you're about to be married soon, and abroad too!"

You heard Jongho chuckle, but that's not all, a honeyed voice laughed as well. A woman's voice.

You couldn't help but take a peek inside, and there he was, the man that you have feelings for, with a girl beside him.

A prettier, sexier, older girl. Someone who looks like she got her shit together.

Someone who is better than you in all aspects.

"Actually, me and my fiancé thought of getting married here," the lady placed her hand on Jongho's chest, leaning her head on his left shoulder, "but he insisted on getting married in Paris! Isn't he a romantic one?"

She giggled like a goddamned witch (that's all in your head because right now, you're full of hatred), and then, at that moment, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Why he wanted to keep your relationship a secret.

Why wasn't he keen on taking the title as your boyfriend.

Because you are not the main, not the original, you are the other girl.

The other girl that everyone despised. The one that you read on tiktok and stories, the home wrecker.

On this occasion, you kind of also loathed yourself. Only there to make him satisfied, to keep him company. You're convenient, but right now, you're thrown out of the picture because his one and only is here.

You've had enough of this bullshit.

You were about to turn around, ready to drown yourself in sadness and self-pity, but then you made eye contact with him. His eyes widened, dread obvious in his features. Despite the tears making your eyes glassy, you willed yourself to stand up against his betrayal, giving him a hard glare as if telling him, 'I hope you're happy, you traitor, don't show yourself in front of me ever again.'

Then you walked away, your back straightened and with your chin up. Certainly, you are not about to ruin yourself, not like this.

On the other hand, Jongho was quick to excuse himself from the meeting, giving some lame excuse and running after you, seeing you walking down an empty hallway.

'Perfect.' he thought, speeding towards your direction, catching you by your wrist and turning you around so suddenly that it gave you a whiplash. Upon meeting his worried face, you immediately pushed him away, the anger in your face that once held love for him squeezed at his heart.

"Y/N, let me explain. I-"

"Shut the fuck up." you rudely cut him off, balling your fist on your sides to prevent yourself from doing something that you'll regret.

"Please, give me a chance to explain." he pleads, but the more you hear his voice, the more it makes you feel worse.

Honestly, you just want to go home and cry. Pathetic, definitely, but you couldn't care less, you had to get these negative feelings out of your system.

"Didn't you hear me?" your voice shakes, but you continue regardless, you are about to give him a piece of your mind.

"I said shut up. It's not worth it, you're not worth it."

A look of hurt flashed on his visage and it somehow sparked something in your pride because that's good, you want your words to pierce through him like a knife. You want to give him pain as well.

"Don't say that, Y/N, I-" he starts bargaining again, to which you blocked again with a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh, I'll say what I want to say. Don't tell me what to do, Sir Jongho." you specifically emphasized the petname that you would usually use inside the bedroom to give him  a sense of what he had done.

"Will you please just let me say something?!" he whisper yelled, frustrated at your attitude.

You raised an eyebrow, the audacity of this man to act like a hotshot when he's the one in the wrong here.

"The floor's all yours then. Talk." you challenged him, only for him to turn silent, gaping like a fish in front of you because really, he went here without any prior thoughts.

"What are you waiting for?!" you yelled, raising your hands in defeat, worn out from this dumb confrontation.

What is he even gonna say though?

That he's sorry you caught him? He's sorry for hurting you and all that shit.

He knew what he was doing, he's not a kid, but he went through it all for the sake of adventure. You are a territory he trespassed, and he's about to pay the consequences.

"I really did like you. This," he pointed between you and him, "it's real."

He hung his head low, not having it in him to face you.

Real your ass.

"You like me?" you asked, hating the way he earnestly nodded his head, "If you really did like me, then you wouldn't make me do this." you stepped towards his figure, the eerily calm tone you're using doesn't sit well with him.

"If you like me, then you would've been honest with me." you jarringly shoved him.

"If you like me, then you should have not given me any hope that I have a chance with you."

Another shove.

"If you like me, then why the fuck do you have to put me in this position?!" you sobbed, giving him a last miserable shove. He accepted all of it, unmoving on his spot on the floor, watching you break down.

"You like me... but you love her. Right?"

"I do."

Well, that was a slap on your face. Of course he loves her, enough to break your heart. Enough to not choose you.

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry."

"No, you're not." you looked at him one last time, "Being guilty doesn't mean that you're sorry."

Then you're gone, leaving him in the hallway while he's having an internal battle with himself.

---------------------------------------------------

"Dude , what the fuck?" Beomgyu scrunches his nose, watching you mope around for the past few weeks. He picked up a used shirt from your floor, grimacing when something sticky adhered on his fingers.

"Go away." your muffled voice sounded from under your sheets, making him sigh in defeat and sitting down on your bed. He sets his hand on your foot that was sticking out of your blanket, giving it a tender massage.

"You know, you need to help yourself in order to move on." his soothing tone smoothens the scowl on your features, lifting your blanket from your body and facing your bestfriend.

"I know that." you mumbled sadly, "I know that.. but it's easier said than done."

After your 'break-up' with Jongho, you two went your separate ways.

You did all that you can to avoid him, the PE classes were hell and most of the time, you pretended to be sick so you won't have to attend the lessons and see his face. His presence alone made you want to throw up.

When he's gone for good, there was a moment of desperation within you, wishing that he'll call you. Hoping that maybe, he'll realize that you're the one for him. Praying that he'll choose you instead, that he'll come back to you, begging for one more chance.

All of those went down the drain when you stalked his social media, photos and videos of his extravagant wedding all over the feed, and you couldn't help but cry.

That girl in the gorgeous, white dress could've been you. It should've been you, the one he's saying his vows to, promising to protect with all his might. It would've been you, the one he will love until he's grey and old.

Although you know, right from the start, it was never you.

The denial stage was better than the acceptance stage, this shit is by far the worst you have ever gone through.

Like they all say, facts do really hurt.

You're trying your best to heal, but the insecurities are gnawing at you. Unanswered questions kept you up all night, the dark bags under your eyes are the tell tale sign of it.

You blinked when Beomgyu sighs again, bringing you out of your stupor.

"Come on up." he says, pulling you up suddenly, throwing a hoodie on your face, "Let's go somewhere."

You groaned, "No." you muttered under your breath, proceeding to lie back on the comfort of your bed to no avail, since Beomgyu, being the stronger one, dragged you down with him until you were out of the house.

"My god!" you protested, pulling away from him with a half-hearted angry glare, "You can't just drag me like that!"

"I can and I will!" he yelled back, glaring at you with the same amount of heat that you're radiating.

"And why is that?" you raised your eyebrows, putting your arms on your hips like a mom demanding an explanation.

“Because I care.” he whispers, and you completely hear it. You did think that your ears are playing some kind of game, but then Beomgyu repeated the sentence with more conviction. 

“Beomgyu.. I, what do you mean by that?” 

“You don’t need to think too much about it.” he started to voice out his thoughts, which was a bombshell since your friend, in spite of his stubbornness and motor mouth, rarely displays what he really feels, “I’m just tired of seeing you like this, you know?” he looks into your eyes, waiting if you’ll retort or something, but when he sees that you’re waiting for him to finish, he goes ahead and takes the opportunity to speak.

“It’s not like you to mope around because of some guy who can’t treat you right. I know, it’s difficult but I can’t stand seeing you so hopeless.. I, this is not the Y/N that I know and love.” 

Your breathing hitched, ‘Is he?’ 

Beomgyu took your hand in his, the familiar coziness of his skin against yours somehow gave you a sense of solace, a feeling that he always brought with him whenever he’s with you.

“You’re not alone, alright? So let’s go get some ice cream, my treat.” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but beam back, pouncing at him so suddenly that he almost stumbled back. Thankfully, his balance and core are great, so no one was hurt at the collision.

“Thank you.” you mumbled, giving some space and intertwining your fingers with his, “I appreciate this so much.”

His eyes softened, the bright yet soft orange hue of the sunset cascades on his side profile, further highlighting his charms (how on earth are you only noticing this now is another mystery for you to solve.) 

“I appreciate you too,” his eyes crinkled, a mischievous glint on his brown orbs as he disconnected your hands and ran away from you, “only after you shower though.” he shouts, laughing like a maniac.

You were left dumbfounded, of course he’ll find a way to ruin such a sweet moment. 

Still, it wouldn’t be as fun as he didn’t. So you chased after him, ready to punch him in the gut for the playful remark he threw at you. 

“Beomgyu you dick! Come back here!”

---------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@hyuckilstan @gwenchwana @minkiflwr @bloomingsann @btsreader12 @hwadump @songmingisthighs @isaluvvs @minkysmilk @jngwyz @fairygirl18 @jcngh0-hq @justyoonsworld @v-lvs-yungi

a/n: last one down! tysm for all the people who read and supported this set of fics (even if i slowed down in the middle) i really, really appreciate you all!! thank you for all the feedbacks and comments!! 💜💜

NEXT UP! ATEEZ MINISODE SERIES!

[butterfluffy]

Hi first request here but could you pleas do a prt 2 on Daki like reader but with Mihawk,Shanks,Zoro and Doflamingo but on Doffy’s part she’s a bit cold and sinister like Daki or somethin along the lines. Thank you very much!

“demoness”

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· various!op characters' thoughts on their s/o who is a demon like daki from kny!

⠀⠀➧ fluff? | d. mihawk, shanks, r. zoro, d. doflamingo (separate)  x f!daki!reader | multi-character/oneshot

⠀⠀➧ warnings — none, bit of violence and swearing though. mistakes may be present too.. so do ignore them, thanks!

⠀⠀➧ requests are open! do send some requests for me to write!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: first part with other characs here.

DRACULE MIHAWK

“beauty, strength, abilities... tell me, what is it that you don't have, my love?”

for mihawk, you have everything. and there is no thing on earth that you don't have. you're perfect for him.

strength is something mihawk admires, and you happened to be strong, so he's amazed every time you showcase your strength.

mihawk is also very intrigued by every bit of you, fascinated on your abilities that are non-human at all.

this master swordsman will bow down before you, his demoness, just to show how much he loves and looks up to you.

SHANKS

“you're one hell of an amazing woman, am i even worthy of you?”

shanks, a fucking emperor, suddenly becomes insecure of himself, thinking that he doesn't deserve you.

your amazing in all places, and he knows it very well. and you do, too, for he reminds you about it every single day.

shanks also couldn't help it but have his jaw drop to the floor and his eyes sparkle like a child's every time you show what you're capable of.

low-key wishes he could regenerate limbs like how you do, since he kinda wants his arm back, lmao.

RORONOA ZORO

“hey, little miss demon. quit being cooler than me, will ya?”

zoro feels threatened. you're too cool, and he's a little jealous. moss head doesn't want you to overshadow him, hAha.

he hesitantly admits that you are very, very cool. and to him, you are someone he looks up to.

also loves how you don't need to be protected, because you're capable of doing it yourself. ofc, he loves you too.

a little weirded out by the demon abilities and stuff though.

DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO

“fufu, we're such a match, right? the heavenly demon, and then hell's demoness..!”

he's evil, you're evil. he acts like a demon, you're a demon. now, tell me. isn't this such a perfect match?

doffy lets you be. want to kill? torture someone? sure, go ahead. he'll even join you if he feels bored.

let your demon show, and he falls in love with you even deeper, deeper than the pits of hell where he will surely fall into.

doffy is a fucking sadist, and he messes with you sometimes by giving you cuts and slashing your limb off just to see you regenerate.

© butterfluffy 2023

⠀⠀ʚїɞ · likes, comments, reblogs, and/or feedbacks are highly appreciated!

[hearts-hunger]

Welcome to the 2023 GVF Fic Writers Halloween Event! Prompts are below the cut, but first, some info about this very spooky affair.

٭ The rules are simple: pick a prompt from the list below and write a fic about it! The prompts range from particularly Halloween-y to just general autumnal vibes, and you're welcome to riff off any of them in any way you choose. On your post, please note which prompt (or prompts) you picked for your fic!

٭ This event is open to all GVF writers, whether you're a seasoned vet or a first-time writer! If you're a reader, show your love for GVF writers by liking their fics, reblogging them, and commenting in the reblog or even just in the tags. All fics from this event will be reblogged by me and added to a masterlist that will be linked in my bio!

٭ Fics can be written for any and all pairings — x reader, slash, platonic, x oc, multi, whatever you like! It's also open to any length fics (blurbs, oneshots, series) and all genres, from vampire sexy to candy sweet to scary movie spooky and everything in between. Please make sure to clearly tag any potential triggers in your fic — we want this event to be accessible and fun for everyone. Please also use a readmore in any fics that are longer than blurb length, just to keep the dash tidy.

٭ Absolutely no negativity will be tolerated, whether from readers, writers, or anyone else. This is a community-building event, and if you're not here to have fun and be kind to others, don't be here at all.

٭ Tag your fics with #gvfhalloweenfics. To make sure I don't miss your fic, please tag me (@hearts-hunger) so I can reblog your fic and add it to the masterlist!

٭ The deadline is technically October 31st, but I'm happy to add fics to the masterlist any time before or after Halloween if your creative energy is grooving or lagging. You can also write as many fics as you want!

٭ Now that I've talked your ear off, let me say one last thing before we get to the prompts: my asks (with anon) and dms are always open for any questions about this event! Please reblog this post to get the word out, and tag any writers you think might be interested! Happy writing, and happy Halloween!

1. carnival haunted house 2. real haunted house 3. pumpkin patch 4. apple orchard 5. scary movie night 6. campfire ghost stories 7. baking halloween treats 8. carving pumpkins 9. trick or treating 10. decorating for halloween 11. making costumes 12. putting on halloween makeup 13. halloween bar crawl 14. ghost hunting 15. monster/ghost/witch au 16. county fair 17. halloween party 18. exploring a graveyard 19. adopting a black cat 20. playing with a ouija board 21. buying halloween decor 22. dark magic 23. a walk through the woods 24. cosy coffee date 25. camping trip 26. hay ride 27. local oktoberfest 28. cabin vacation 29. halloween/autumn wedding 30. starting a new halloween tradition 31. fic based on a halloween song

[seenoversundown]

Helloooooo GVF Fic writers! Let’s get romantic with some Valentine’s Day writing 😍🫦 Prompts are below but the important stuff first! ((This is inspired by @hearts-hunger Halloween event 🫶🏻)) ❤️The Rules🩷

🩷Pick a prompt from the list below and write about it! The prompts range from sweet to a little spicy, but you’re welcome to adjust the spice level on any of the prompts. (Measure with your heart) On your post, please note which prompt (or prompts) you picked for your fic!

❤️This event is open to all GVF writers. (Even if you’ve never attempted to write before, feel free to join in!) If you’re a reader, show your love for GVF writers by liking their fics, reblogging them, and commenting in the reblog or even just in the tags. All fics from this event will be reblogged by me and added to a masterlist that will be linked in my bio!

🩷Fics can be written for any kind of pairings — x reader, slash, platonic, x oc, multi, whatever floats your boat! Any length fic is allowed (blurbs, oneshots, series) and all genres are welcomed! (From toothachingly sweet fluff to white knuckle gripping your bedsheets smut) 

❤️Please make sure to clearly tag any potential triggers in your fic — we want this event to be accessible and fun for everyone. Please also use the ‘keep reading’ in any fics that are longer than blurb length!

🩷Please be kind and respectful! This is simply to have fun and spread love. Don’t hate on others work just because you don’t care for it! Just scroll on my friend! 

❤️Tag your fics with #gvfvalentines — To be safe and so I don’t miss your fic, please tag me (@seenoversundown) so I can reblog your fic and add it to the masterlist!

🩷The deadline is February 14th, but I’ll be more than happy to add fics to the masterlist any time before or after Valentine’s Day if you post sooner rather than later! (But later is better than never💕)

• Picnic

• Bowling

• Cooking (together / for the other person / a class)

• Movie Night

• Spa Day / Night

• Wine Tasting

• Go out to a fancy dinner

• Scavenger Hunt

• Watch the sun rise / set

• Go dancing

• DIY Boudoir Photo Shoot

• Facetime date (if they're apart)

• Write each other love notes!

• Play Truth or Dare ( Could be spicy 😉 )

• …any romantic-Valentines Day inspired theme 🩷🤭 (feel free to tag me and I’ll reblog if it’s on theme honestly!)

tag your favorite writers or reblog to spread the word!

[timeofjuly]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @floofanflurr <3 I am always happy to yap about my fics! I'll pop this below the cut 'cause it's kinda long.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Eight under the timeofjuly account, and a few others scattered around other usernames and the anonymous collection.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 124,470 words, which is kinda crazy to look back on since I only started in August of last year.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Undertale at the moment, but I've written for a few other fandoms in the past.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Resisting the Current

Trick or Heat

Wishbone

Parallel Circuits

And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Always, though it sometimes takes me a little to get around to it. My favourite thing about writing fanfic is the sense of community that you build, so I love getting to chat about the fic in the comments. I always have a million and one thoughts that didn't make it to the page that I'm desperate to share. I also like to say thank you when people go out of their way to comment, because I really appreciate it. As a reader, I know I get super excited when an author replies to my comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to go with a few of the RtC 'verse oneshots for this. I think Resolutions from Parallel Circuits ends on a pretty angsty note, particularly compared to the seemingly upbeat start. From Silver String, there will be no answer is pretty bleak and so is on my way home. I'm quite proud of how they both end, actually - I think they're my two strongest endings in the lot.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Any of the smut, probably? They're all set in happy established relationships and end on a cutesy note.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not for a very long time, no! I remember, many many years ago, posting my very first fic on fanfic.net lol and getting a very nasty review about how the reader didn't know the main pairing in the fic was m/m (slash back then, what a blast from the past) even though it was very clearly indicated in the summary and the AN at the start. It goes to show people have been bad at curating their own reading experiences by minding the tags and summaries since forever.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! Mostly established relationship stuff under this username so far.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not super into cross-universe crossovers, but, same as @floofanflurr, I really like playing around with cross fic crossovers. I'm (slowly) writing a crack dialogue-only oneshot where the reader inserts of Wishbone and RtC are stuck together in a broken elevator lol. It's been a fun challenge! It's very very hard to put two characters who are normally referred to in the second person in the same scene, lemme tell you, which is why I ended up choosing to go dialogue only.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not, but I'd be open to it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nothing that I've posted! @marty-parties and I have been messing around with an underfell papyrus/reader fic, though! I also used to rp all the time, which I'd count as cowriting. I miss it very much, even though I used to get super easily overwhelmed by it.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

This is such a tough question. I'll pretty much read anything if I vibe with the ship dynamics (pining and unrequited love my beloved, I will read you anywhere no matter the ship or fandom), but I went through my bookmarks to actually get the stats on this. I used to be super into the mcu (I completely lost interest after endgame) so tony/steve and tony/steve/bucky were the most common ships. I have no clue what my favourite ship would be now, though.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Never say never, but I really want to write this horrortale isekai fic I've had bouncing around in my brain. I've fully plotted it out and it's set to only be five chapters, but I'm really struggling to actually write the thing. I have started it, though, so we'll see.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterisation, I think. And even though I mostly gravitate towards writing angsty stuff, I think humour and comedic timing is a strength of mine too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Physical description and settings, 100%. I don't really picture anything in my head when I write, which means all that physical description doesn't make its way onto the page, and when it does, I'm just going off vibes. Particularly with setting - I have zero idea what the locations in any of my fics look like lol. Like, the house in RtC? No clue. Zero.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Really cool! I love it when people do this and I get to translate it, it's like a nice surprise.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, I think? It's all scrubbed from the internet now though.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Wishbone. I am so attached to the Second Mage and Sans and Rus, you have no idea. Particularly Flint, I just adore them. Don't get me wrong, I love the electrician and Quinn and all of my ocs, but I have a special place in my heart for reader inserts who are nasty and hurting and lash out and aren't always the kind, considerate, emotionally stable person in the relationship, forever supporting others. I read something years ago that said to consider how your character is inclined to react to things, both good and bad, and how for lots of people, it's not in our nature to instinctively respond to things with kindness and openness. In fiction, we often expect our POV characters to deal with situations with emotional maturity that we ourselves, along with the majority of irl people, don't have. I think this rings true even more for reader inserts. It's fun to flip this on its head in Wishbone - what if instead of acting with an uncommon kindness, you do the opposite? You get to be flawed. You get to have the murky motives. You get to hurt and in turn you hurt others, and that hurting has real consequences on you and the people around you. This is also a great way to create angst lol - in the non-fell version of Wishbone, where everyone is generally just less of an asshole and therefore makes kinder choices, a lot of the events in the fic just wouldn't happen.

No pressure tag to @covfefeships and anyone else who'd like to do this!

[padfootastic]

hi! i've no idea how i came to your page but i realised i'd read two of your one-shots in ao3 before and had adored them (you'll probably get comments from me in future, btw) and i just wanted to say thank you for your writing and thank you for your prongsfoot<3

i've been very critical of this sort of new, cool and aloof and martyred version of remus lupin for quite a while now (honestly, where did all those traits come from?!) and gosh, you're so eloquent when talking about him!!!

i was wondering what your thoughts were on regulus black? because i think he's getting the same sort of royalty treatment as remus does by making him sort of-- er, perfect? i mean. i've seen so much recently of him basically saving the world single-handedly and i-- ugh. and james is always just there, like a useless idiot? it makes me irrationally angry, and this is coming from someone who enjoys jegulus quite a bit. my problem is that i don't know if this rejection i feel against those two comes from a place of genuine dislike of them or from a place of wishing sirius and james were not done so dirty.

anyway, again, thank you for your writing. it's truly beautiful. hope you have a great day!

omg hello 🥺 i’ve periodically opened tumblr, giggling like a loon, and logging off multiple times just to see this ask,,,,thank u sm , ur way too kind <3 and ur comment on ao3!!! i was just,,,,yeah,,,no words. thank u.

ooooooh i remember being asked something similar a while ago and i took the safe route and basically went ‘remus lupin-ification of regulus’ iirc. that still stands. but but. i’ve also got another answer here! all hail tumblr’s search system today!

i still basically stand by all of it, but adding onto the jegulus + sirius bits of it:

annoys tf outta me when regulus is turned into a victim and like sirius damned him to hell when he left . i have thoughts about the way both of them were treated (which,,,another time,,,this post is already getting too long lol) but i imagine the day sirius left to be a Good One for reg bc he thinks he’ll have his parents undivided attention now. i also think regulus is severely defanged in a lot of characterisations, as if he wasn’t a baby DE, as if he wasn’t a slytherin from the house of black, as if he wasn’t walmart sirius black. like man i’m almost offended on his behalf. i’m sure his shaking his lil fist up at us from wherever he is.

with jegulus…okay, i’ve only read a couple oneshots but that doesn’t mean i haven’t tried. i genuinely went thru so many fics trying to get something, anything to stick and i think the problem is me. fully. completely. without doubt. i just can’t deal with a situation where j&s aren’t each others no.1, or at the very least, equivalent to that. that’s where my issues w wolfstar started, same w this. jegulus also has the added horror of ‘james and reg sneaking behind sirius’ back’ which is just,,,,gosh,,,,i have So Many Thoughts ab that. all personal opinions, but still. they’re strong. it fucks me up just thinking about it. i also think the ship tries wayyyy too hard to fit the ‘best friend’s brother’ trope and ends up sacrificing characterisation for it. which,,,again,,,that’s fine but it’s all the ‘oh this is how it was!’ that gets to me. and then james :/// he gives off such weird energy lol. jegulus gives me drarry vibes, and james is treated almost exactly as harry is in a lot of those. reg also gets the saviour treatment, like draco, and both of their fuckery is toned down until they’re almost normal, like they never did any reprehensible shit. j&r, and d&h are placed on the same moral equivalence and it’s just a bit. hmm. okay. (my issue with this is how it leaks into the writing and suddenly i’m made to sympathise with draco bc harry slashed him w sectumsempra, but we conveniently forget he was gonna use an unforgivable, ykno?) so overall it just feels…pushing reg up and pulling james down to get them on equal footing. very similar to wolfstar lbr.

anyway. that’s a ramble and a half lmao.

also!! ‘a place of genuine dislike of them or from a place of wishing sirius and james were not done so dirty’ in my mind, both of these occupy a similar plane of existence. so very valid. for me, personally, hating remrem started as the latter and i eventually realised it’s also the former lol i was just mad a how sirius is bastardised to justify his ~deification and it eventually moved on to ‘wow i just. do not like him’. damn.

[heartkaji]

hi mars i love your writing so much 🥺🥺 i’m thinking of starting a blog because of you so do you have any writing tips?

HI BABYYY i’m so glad i could inspire you to start writing i’m so happy to hear that💞💞 here’s a few for you ml 💘

read what you want to write. obviously you have to choose HOW you want to write first. in my case i wanted my writing to be similar to poetry since i love poems. there are diff types of poetry but prose poetry is my favorite so i decided on making my works based on that. once you’ve decided how you wanna write, read as many works as you can that basically embody that.

make it your own : if you’re using another author’s work as inspiration you might end up developing a writing style that’s pretty much identical to theirs. it’s harder to notice in writing so i’ll use art as an example: have you ever seen someone’s art and thought it was by a particular artist, only to find out it was someone else who drew it ? if your work looks like something the author you’re getting inspo from could’ve written, you’re doing it wrong 🙏 if you’re using pinterest or tumblr as inspo sources chances are your inspiration is a small or unpublished writer so you really don’t want your work sounding similar to theirs. making your work a little more unique by mixing inspo from different sources is a great help.

to add more on the last point, try making your own signature phrases !! for example, ppl have told me they know a work is mine once they see phrases like ‘blood drenched cheeks’ (as opposed to blushing or flushed cheeks) ‘blood crept up his throat’ (to show nervousness) etc etc. you can see these exact phrases in almost EVERY fic i’ve ever written. idk about them being entirely unique but if people are associating certain phrases with you, you are definitely on the right path to making a writing style that’s uniquely yours 💯 another thing i do is i use slashes in place of dashes, commas, semicolons etc and ‘&’ instead of ‘and’. it’s used in poetry sometimes but pretty uncommon in fic writing. my use of these symbols in writing has also been pointed out on here so i know i’m doing it right 🙏

decide how you want your works to SOUND. what vibe do you want your writing to give ? i like to write with the intention of making my fics sound ‘melancholically romantic’. i’d say my bakugo fic, kinich drabble and old kaji oneshot are works of mine that do well to capture this vibe. i like my works to have a somewhat ‘gloomy’ air as opposed to bright and happy, and i make the romance on a more steamy side, not innocent and cute at all. decide what tone or vibe you want your work to give off and use language and setting accordingly !!

PROOFREAD. this is really basic advice but i NEED to spell it out because gosh, the amount of fics i see that say ‘not proofread’ on the daily ?? anytime i see that in the authors note i scroll immediately. if you couldn’t put effort into making your fic readable, why would i give it a read ? please anon, use grammarly if you have to. i personally don’t use it because i write things ‘grammatically incorrectly’ for the sake of sounding poetic sometimes so having grammarly trying to correct what is perfectly fine in my eyes can get annoying. that said i reread my fics like ten times before i post, and i reread it at different times as well, not just reading it over and over again in one sitting. having stuff like spelling errors in my fics is just so embarassing to me, i prefer to avoid that at all costs 🙏

lastly, WRITE WHAT YOU LIKE. tumblr sucks when it comes to giving feedback. it makes me miss wattpad where everyone spammed comments but hey what can you do ? don’t let lack of engagement discourage you from writing the way YOU want to. i’ve written fics in really thick prose and some of those don’t get as many reactions, but does it make me consider changing my writing style ? NO. everything i post on here is first for myself before anyone else. it should be the same way for you too nonnie. the moment you become focused on writing what will get you the most likes and reblogs rather than what you actually want to, you become a content creator, not a writer. write as you like and own it ‼️

[cookies3038]

ABSENCE (BRENDON URIE X RYAN ROSS)

TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .

Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!

Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.

Word Count: 6753

Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.

Also put any one shot requests you have here:

If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them here:

Also! Credits to one of my best friends called Ash!!! My platonic soulmate :p They helped me with the story line, especially the angst :3

—————-

Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.

Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.

He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.

As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.

Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.

Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.

He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.

“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.

“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.

“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.

They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.

“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.

“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.

“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.

“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.

He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.

“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.

“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.

“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.

“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”

“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.

“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.

The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.

Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.

“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”

“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.

“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.

“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.

“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.

“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.

They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.

“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.

“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.

“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.

‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’

He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.

Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?

From Ryan:

I left a note, sorry.

His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.

Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Three hours later.

It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”

“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.

Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.

Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.

“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.

“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.

“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.

“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.

“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.

“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.

“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.

After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”

“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.

“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.

Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.

“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.

They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”

“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.

“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.

They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.

“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.

“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.

A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.

“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.

-

The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.

They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”

“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”

“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.

“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.

Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.

“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.

“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”

“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.

Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.

Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.

“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.

Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.

“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.

“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.

“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.

A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.

“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.

The bus was due in 3 minutes.

Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.

His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.

Shit.

He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?

The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.

Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.

His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.

~ Flashback ~

“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.

“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.

In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.

~ End of flashback ~

Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.

The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.

Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.

“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.

Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.

He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.

Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.

“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.

Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.

After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.

To Brendon:

Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-

Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.

“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”

No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.

“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.

She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.

Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.

Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.

“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.

Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”

“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.

“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”

Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”

“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.

“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.

“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.

They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.

“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.

Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.

“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.

“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.

“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.

Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.

He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.

The blade.

Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.

However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.

More pain.

This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.

Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?

Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.

Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.

A knock came from the old, creaky door.

“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.

“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.

“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.

Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.

“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.

No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.

“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.

He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.

He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!

Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.

Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.

“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.

“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.

Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.

Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.

“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?

“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.

Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.

Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.

“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.

Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.

“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.

Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.

“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.

“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.

“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”

—

A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p

[goldendiie]

My dream rn is to be to Sherdoc what you are to Sargemore

How did you get here

Like, other than the obvious, if you had to take your most comedic guess at how you got here, what would you say

i sold my soul to the devil so then i could have internet fame by writing sarge/fillmore fanfic. slash jay.

anyway, since i have a tendency to ramble, i’ll put a serious answer under the cut. i’m going to call this G’s Path to Accidental Internet Success.

1. i joined the fandom in 2016, when i was 14. as such, i bothered literally EVERYONE and tried to make as many friends as i could. i ended up with a pretty solid group of mutuals (most—if not all— of which are now deactivated. rip.) .

2. start asking for writing requests. the stuff i started out with was always in the 50-300 words ballpark (like drabbles). the main key here is to (a) have Exactly One Thing you write about (aka sargemore), and a handful of people that are willing to engage with you on that.

some cars fandom history for you: around this time (2018-ish), we had this anon “spam” (i hate to call them that, because we are now good friends) who would send many, many, many asks into my inbox about sarge and potatoes. i was able to turn some of their asks into legitimate oneshots, or take them a little farther than they likely expected. (see: wishes, as the sun sets, or anything else i posted in the summer of 2018). i guess what you can take away from this is that ANYTHING can be turned into writing if you are deranged enough.

it was also around this time that i bought the sargemore backstory comic off of ebay, and then spent an INCREDIBLE amount of time immersing myself in sixties history to write the third blink. i started posting that in june of 2019, and it went through the beginning of january of 2021 (covid fucked up my schedule). in that time, the fic gained a pretty decent following, a lot of whom usually still turns up for anything that i post on ao3.

so, number 3: if you put a lot of passion and time and effort into your work, people will notice! if you construct a good narrative arc for your characters, and do things that people aren’t expecting, they’ll stick around. a consistent posting schedule always helps too; think of it as tuning in to your favorite television show once a week, back in the old days of cable. i know i’m not one to talk about that (we all know i haven’t posted in like six months… yikes), but i’m telling you. it helps.

4. never shut the hell up about what you’re writing. i mean, seriously. you see the shit that i post about my AU. be obnoxious. have fun. start a discussion about your characters, or the narrative. in my case, i do this easily by creating a historical discussion through the use of sarge/fillmore as figures analogous to different political beliefs.

(actually. my ploy all along was to educate you guys. i can’t tell you how many comments i’ve gotten that are people saying “i wasn’t expecting to LEARN anything from a cars fanfic, but….”)

i think that’s all. i hate to say that a great deal of this is circumstantial, because i started in a height of the fandom in 2017, and the Potato Anon summer gave me a lot to work with, and i’ve been doing the same kind of thing for almost seven years now. but i think that you could still swing it. there’s enough people in the fandom that you could definitely attract the audience you want for your writing. i’ll be proud to be a part of it!

TLDR: have friends that want to engage with your writing, stay (mostly) consistent, and create a discussion about your “content.” and, most importantly— be passionate, be real, and HAVE FUN. none of this is worth it if you aren’t enjoying it.

[lostxmelody]

Not really a question but i’d just like to express that i’m a huge can of your fic, i’ve read it since chapter 1 and have been sucked in ever since. majority of the 0309 content made by fans often have them terribly mischaracterize making lots of people end up hating the ship instead cause all they think the fans are capable of doing are creating terrible stuff of them and just set a bad impression on the ship even when is just supposed to be a silly pairing cause milgram doesnt run on romance!! T__T including me i used to like (not like it too much) to say the least though i tried to be more open to it cause i was starving on fan content and just went on ahead on ao3 and said “fuck it i’m reading a fic of them” to which i did .. some of the fics are questionable though when i found yours i just knew it would be good from the start. The way you characterized Fuuta and his experience with his crime was just ODBAJhsjsjd /pos. The way you potrayed Mikoto’s social life, ideals and personality is so so close to his canon one if not that its quite exactly the same!! (to how i imagined it atleast) its refreshing to see people characterize him as someone that isnt a ‘big top hottie thats overly flirty and is an asshole and doesnt care about anyone’s feelings’ and the way you really showed and expanded the dynamic they’d have together (in an au) atleast was just well done, you elaborated it well in the fic. most of the people i’ve seen just makes them grumpy x sunshine, etc etc tropes not that its bad but i think they’d have more to if than just that especially with their crimes and ideals involved and how they view life. if you’d open a twitter account i’d totally support you like hell, big time i’d love to hear more about your thoughts on 0309, Mikoto / Milgram in general and maybe give your fic more attention it deserves one way or another <33 chapters are already 8/10 done! i cant believe its nearly done aswell. i’m not huge into shipping but i love the way you write the characters (even the side! Yuno + Mahiru + Shidou’s characterization is so good) pleaase give yourself more credit as a good writer in the milgram fandom!! i know you’re a busy person anyway (you seem like one) though i just wanna say thank you for taking the time to write life’s reflection and the other oneshot you wrote. Take care of yourself :D<333

thank you so much!! i havent delved much into other milgram fanfics, in this case talking specifically about 0309 because i know from past experiences in different fandoms that whenever i did that i'd become so worried about my own characterization that i just ended up dropping the entire idea and never writing it again.

writing a slash pairing the milgram fandom is a bit... i guess probably frowned upon, depending on who you ask. it's not meant to be a shipping scene but where theres a will theres a way lol. ive become really fascinated by their made-up dynamic. mikoto and fuuta have barely any canon interactions and whenever they did-- it was obvious that they don't even like the other. why ship that? well i can't provide an answer for everyone, but for me it's just because i like reading about two broken people healing and why not add a tinge of almost-enemies to lovers in there? lol

its funny you mention a twitter because i did make one about a month ago but immediately abandoned it because i didn't plan on using it... i guess i could though! i just end up overthinking everything i post but it would be nice to engage a little more with like-minded (read: 0309 truthers /hj) people

you can find that here! (barebones rn... but feel free to interact or whatever and i'll make it look better eventually)

thanks again for such a sweet comment!

[uozlulu]

Uozlulu's 2023 Year in Writing Fanfiction

For my post about my faves and recs, go here

This year I wrote 12 fics but I also transferred all my old fics from FF.net that were worth keeping before closing that account. Since I backdated the old fics, the 2023 fics and stats are fics I wrote in 2023.

Overall AO3 stats (and 2023 stats)

Works - 148 (12)

User Subscriptions - 34 (4)

Kudos - 5,212 (312)

Comment Threads - 268 (29)

Bookmarks - 1,126 (67)

Subscriptions - 194 (3)

Word Count - 740,203 (59,061)

Hits - 88,642 (3,720)

Under the cut are the twelve fics I wrote in 2023 plus links to them on both AO3 and Tumblr, my top 5 fics sorted by hits, kudos,  comment threads, bookmarks, subscriptions, and word count

2023 Fanfics

The Mortal and the Vampires - Interview with the Vampire (AMC) - A mortal met two vampires in a gay bar in San Francisco one night fifty years ago. If they were kind, the vampires would have screwed him and left him be, but Armand and Louis chose Daniel, and that was at times as much of a curse as the dark gift Daniel once sought. A kind of modern fairytale set within the universe of the AMC show. - PG-13 - 11,315 words (oneshot) - Fairytale/Fantasy/Slash/Vampire - Armand/Louis/Daniel, Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis, Louis/Daniel (Tumblr read more link)

And There He Was as He Always Was - ACD Sherlock Holmes - Written for the first line prompt, “[Watson] shrugged off a pang of worry as he slipped into Baker Street that night.” - PG - 291 words (oneshot) - Gen - Sherlock Holmes & John Watson (Tumblr read more link)

May You Get What You Desire Is a Curse upon the Dead - IwtV (AMC) - Daniel wants the creature with the glowing eyes and sharp fangs. Armand wants the mortal shaped by life. Mortality forces their hands. - PG-13 - 9,615 words (oneshot) - Drama/Horror/Romance/Slash/Vampire - Armand/Daniel (Tumblr read more link)

We Have Thieves - IwtV (AMC) - In which thieves come to Night Island and Armand makes the most of it. - PG-13 - 3,447 words (oneshot) - Crack/Heist/Horror/Slash/Supernatural - Armand/Daniel (Tumblr read more link)

Weakness - Black Clover - An exploration of Asta’s fear as seen through six nightmares at different points in his life. - PG-13 - 2,931 words (oneshot) - Gen/Horror/Nightmare (Tumblr read more link)

The Gifts We Give - IwtV (AMC) - Claudia arrives in Paris and finds herself drawn to the doll maker living across the street. The feeling is mutual. - PG-13 - 1,956 words (oneshot) - Femslash/Horror/Romance/Vampire - Claudia/Madeleine (Tumblr read more link)

Trapped in a Meme - Supernatural - Dean and Castiel are trapped in a meme. The consequences for breaking it are dire. - PG (not counting language) - 685 words (oneshot) - Crack/Meme/Slash - Destiel (Tumblr read more link)

The Grief We Face - IwtV (AMC) - In 1950’s Paris, Louis finds an apparition waiting for him in a courtyard behind Théâtre des Vampires. In modern Dubai, a similar apparition still haunts him. - PG-13 - 1,605 words (oneshot) - Drama/Horror/Slash/Vampire - Armand/Louis, Louis/Lestat (Tumblr read more link)

The Roles We Act - IwtV (AMC) - Daniel explores the Théâtre des Vampires album and learns new details. - R - 2,348 words (oneshot) - Dark/Horror/Slash/Vampire - Armand/Daniel (Tumblr read more link)

The Connection We Share - IwtV (AMC) - Louis and Lestat reunite in modern Dubai. - PG - 1,130 words (oneshot) - Romance/Slash/Vampire - Louis/Lestat (Tumblr read more link)

Swallow My Fang at Night Island - IwtV (AMC) - Human AU. It's the dawn of a new millennium. Daniel is newly divorced, almost fifty, and dealing with his daughters' troubles at school. Armand is one of his daughter's teachers. The instant they meet, Armand decides Daniel will be his and Daniel finds himself equally intrigued despite his better judgement. - E - 12,318 words (oneshot) - AU/Drama/Romance/Slash - Armand/Daniel (main), Louis/Lestat (background) - (Tumblr read more link)

The Vibration of Unraveling Strings - IwtV (AMC)/The Queen of the Damned (The Vampire Chronicles) - Throughout time and space, multiple universes coexist, vibrating beside each other. Sometimes through reflections, nearby universes glimpse one another. Armand and Daniel head towards Daniel’s transformation in two separate universes coexisting through their own reflections. - R - 11,147 words (7 chapters) - AU/Crossover/Drama/Fantasy/Prompt/Romance/Slash/Vampire - Armand/Daniel (Tumblr read more link)

Top 5 Fics by Hit Count

Our Soulmate Academia - Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia) - Soulmate AU that spans pre-series to post-series- PG-13 (maybe pushing R because of violence), - 199,381 words (17 chapters) - TodoBaku (main), IzuOchaIida (secondary), plus other tertiary pairings - 13,310 hits

Best Laid Plans - Banana Fish - Ash ends up on the plane to Japan with Eiji and Ibe, thus beginning an AU manga ending where Ash adjusts to life in Japan and Ash and Eiji adjust to life with each other without constant threat - R - 90,409 words (11 chapters) - Ash/Eiji (main) - 5,935 hits

Crush - Supernatural/Teen Wolf (MTV) - Stiles runs into Dean, who he has a one-sided crush on ever since Sam and Dean saved him from a ghost a few years ago. Meanwhile Dean is dealing with plot points from season seven of SPN - PG-13 - 2,218 words (oneshot) - one=sided crush, other background pairings mentioned - 5,763 hits

Pain - Banana Fish - Eiji finds the plane ticket before Ash can tell him about it (prompt fic AU, mangaverse) - PG-13 - 5,500~ words (oneshot) - Ash/Eiji (main) - 2,838 hits

The Bridge - BBC Sherlock - AU in which John meets Jim first because Sherlock never became a consulting detective - PG-13 - 6,784 words (oneshot) - Joh/Jim (Johniarty (main)) - 2,832 hits

Top 5 Fics by Kudos

Our Soulmate Academia - 357 kudos

Pain - 281 kudos

Crush - 258 kudos

A Gift - Daredevil (Netflix)/Avengers (MCU) - Matt runs into Clint and receives something he left behind - PG - 825 words (oneshot) - Gen - 220 kudos

Best Laid Plans - 203 kudos

Top 5 Fics by Comment Threads

Our Soulmate Academia - 57 comment threads (116 comments)

Best Laid Plans - 50 comment threads (106 comments)

Pain - 10 comment threads (25 comments)

The Land Across the Sea - Black Clover/Boruto - While the Black Bulls and Golden Dawn are recovering from an AU ending to the war with Spade (because I wrote this before the arc ended), Boruto washes ashore during a tsunami. This prompts Julius to send portions of both squads back to the Land of Fire to escort Boruto home and establish diplomatic ties - PG - 44,655 words (7 chapters) - mostly gen (it’d have been weird if I left Finesse out of things) - 10 comment threads (21 comments)

The World Would Be Empty Without You - Black Clover - Yami and Vangeance keep bringing each other back from the dead - PG - 5,276 words (oneshot) Yami/Vangeance (main) - 8 comment threads (17 comments)

Top 5 Fics by Bookmarks 

Our Soulmate Academia - 206 bookmarks

Best Laid Plans - 114 bookmarks

Pain - 48 bookmarks

Promises and Oaths - Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi (Kakuriyo Bed and Breakfast) - Prequel fic exploring how Oodanna handled Shirou’s request the night Shirou made it - PG - 2,254  (oneshot) - Gen - 41 bookmarks

Names and Promises - Black Clover - Soulmate mark AU where Asta and Yuno are soulmates with their names on their wrists - G - 2,353 (oneshot) - Gen - 34 bookmarks

Top 5 Fics by Subscriptions

Our Hero Academia - 71 subsscriptions

Best Laid Plans - 21 subscriptions

The Land Across the Sea - 10 subscriptions

Pain - 9 subscriptions

…save… - Boku no Hero Academia  (My Hero Academia) - Shirakumo slowly but surely gains consciousness and makes a request of Aizawa that some of Aizawa’s students also intend to pursue - PG-13 - 12,016 words (oneshot) - Aizawa/Yamada (EraserMic (main)) - 8 subscriptions

Top 5 Fics by Word Count

Our Soulmate Academia - 199,381 words

Best Laid Plans - 90,409 words

The Land Across the Sea - 44, 655

Displacement - Naruto - When Hell is full, Gaara must prove himself in the mortal world to gain a spot in Heaven - PG-13 - 22,000~ words (6 chapters) - Gaara/Hinata - 22,000~ words

Her Ninja Way - Naruto - Hinata is betrothed to Gaara - PG - 21,000~ words (6 chapters) - Gaara/Hinta - 21,000~ words

[beautouslysandy]

Omg we should def rock out together once you learn how to play! I guess I'm just that good at guessing. There was some other stuff, but I figured the message was long enough. Anyway, for the ask game ; 💋🤍💌

- your most favoritist anon, Slash j.

hahaha that would be fun!! i guess you are!

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer? honestly it depends on the comment…if it’s a question then yes it would be nice for the writer to reply but if it’s a big account then it’s understandable if they don’t reply. if i am just praising there work then no, i am simply just complimenting there work and there really is no point in responding. (i only do it because i like to!)

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

hmm this is a hard one because i haven’t ever thought about this. it’s probably either my new to town series (that was my first work on here and it was all over the place) or my only steve randle one, because the ‘cars and cupcakes’ (steve randle x reader) wasn’t really as good as the rest of my work for me personally. i probably didn’t answer this question correctly haha

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

oooo, i have a outerbanks series coming up and oh my gosh i am so excited to share it with you guys! i have only partly written the first chapter but i am loving it all ready. it’s been a while since i have watched the series (watched the third season when it first came out) also i kinda of like doing my own thing and not including things in the show just the characters and stuff. anyways, it has me super excited! i don’t want to spill to much. other than that i have a lot of oneshots in the work and progress state!

hope i answered these questions properly haha! 🫶🫶

[ryanross5eva]

ABSENCE [RYAN ROSS X BRENDON URIE]

TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .

Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!

Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.

Word Count: 6753

Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.

Also put any one shot requests into the comments.

If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them in the comments.

—————-

Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.

Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.

He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.

As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.

Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.

Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.

He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.

“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.

“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.

“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.

They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.

“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.

“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.

“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.

“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.

He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.

“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.

“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.

“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.

“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”

“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.

“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.

The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.

Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.

“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”

“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.

“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.

“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.

“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.

“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.

They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.

“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.

“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.

“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.

‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’

He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.

Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?

From Ryan:

I left a note, sorry.

His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.

Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Three hours later.

It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”

“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.

Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.

Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.

“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.

“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.

“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.

“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.

“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.

“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.

“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.

After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”

“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.

“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.

Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.

“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.

They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”

“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.

“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.

They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.

“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.

“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.

A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.

“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.

-

The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.

They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”

“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”

“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.

“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.

Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.

“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.

“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”

“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.

Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.

Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.

“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.

Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.

“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.

“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.

“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.

A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.

“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.

The bus was due in 3 minutes.

Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.

His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.

Shit.

He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?

The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.

Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.

His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.

~ Flashback ~

“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.

“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.

In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.

~ End of flashback ~

Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.

The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.

Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.

“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.

Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.

He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.

Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.

“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.

Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.

After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.

To Brendon:

Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-

Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.

“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”

No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.

“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.

She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.

Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.

Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.

“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.

Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”

“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.

“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”

Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”

“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.

“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.

“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.

They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.

“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.

Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.

“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.

“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.

“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.

Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.

He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.

The blade.

Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.

However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.

More pain.

This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.

Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?

Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.

Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.

A knock came from the old, creaky door.

“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.

“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.

“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.

Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.

“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.

No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.

“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.

He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.

He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!

Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.

Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.

“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.

“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.

Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.

Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.

“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?

“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.

Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.

Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.

“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.

Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.

“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.

Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.

“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.

“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.

“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”

—

A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p