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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

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Definitely Not Dating (H.HJ)

Warnings : none i can think of?

Word Count : 1622

Synopsis : all their friends tease them about dating due to how close they were, but they were just friends. or were they?

“Your boyfriend’s here.” My roommate and best friend, Felix, teased after answering the door. Hyunjin was close behind him, chuckling at the joke all our friends made about us.

“Still not dating.” I countered as I stood up from the couch, grabbing my purse. “Where to today?” My words were now directed at Hyunjin who was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I figured we’d go see that play you’re always talking about. There’s a showing downtown tonight.” My eyes lit up when he said that. “I already bought the tickets.” He added with a chuckle.

“Have I ever told you I love you, Hwang Hyunjin?” I asked with a smile, linking my arm with his as we made our way outside and to his car.

“Only everyday.” He countered with a smirk.

“Never mind, I hate you. Ugly.” I unlinked our arms as he opened the door for me, as he always would. As I got in and buckled my seatbelt, I could see Felix in the window, watching us with a teasing grin on his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking, so I flipped him off just as Hyunjin got into the driver’s seat. He looked forward just in time to see Felix return the gesture while sticking his tongue out.

“You two have an odd friendship.” He chuckled as he did up his seatbelt. My phone automatically connected to his car as he usually let me play whatever I wanted to listen to. Our friends would always mention how cute that fact was. Maybe if you had better taste in music, he’d let you play your playlists. I’d always retort, hoping the growing feelings weren’t as obvious as our friends insisted they were.

The next day, I sat at a table in the library with a couple of friends, working on the homework given out that day. My phone, that sat on the table, seemed to vibrate with a text message every few seconds. “Should probably see what they want. It’s probably your boyfriend.” Jeongin teased, nudging me with his shoulder. I rolled my eyes, once again saying that Hyunjin and I weren’t dating.

“It’s probably Felix asking me to pick up something on my way home. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio today.” Hyunjin always threw himself into his dances, barely looking at his phone unless it was to pick a song or pause the music. There was absolutely no way he would be texting me right now. But when I picked it up, I was shocked to see it was him.

We should get dinner tonight.

That restaurant you like has an opening tonight. I’ll make the reservations.

We could go stargazing after.

Why aren’t you answering me?

Oh right, you’re studying with Jeongin and Seungmin. Tell them I said hi!

Let me know when you’re done, I’ll pick you up : )

I couldn’t help but smile at the messages, my stomach doing flips as I thought about how this would be a cute date, if it was a date. Dinner and stargazing. “So, what does Felix want?” The teasing tone coming from Seungmin’s lips told me he knew it wasn’t Felix.

“Hyunjin says hi.” I answered, watching as their faces contorted into teasing grins.

“And?” Jeongin prodded, nudging me with his shoulder again.

“And that he’s making reservations at a restaurant before taking me stargazing.” I mumbled under my breath, hoping they wouldn’t hear me. They did.

Hyunjin stayed true to his word and was outside the library doors when Jeongin, Seungmin, and I exited. His long blond hair tied up in that half pony he always did, his bangs falling across his face. I never was one for long, dyed hair before, preferring men with shorter, dark hair. But Hyunjin pulled off the long blond look so well it was hard not to be drawn to him. “Have fun on your date!” Jeongin teased as the two of them took off in the opposite direction of Hyunjin and I.

“Do you think our friends will ever believe we’re just friends?” Hyunjin joked as he slid his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. I giggled to myself, knowing that if I was an outsider looking in, I would think exactly the way they do. But this is how our friendship has been since high school. We’ve always been touchy with each other, cuddling and holding hands.

“Once we’re married to other people.” I joked, trying not to let the hurt I felt at the very thought of him falling in love with someone else evident in my voice.

We sat across from each other at my favourite restaurant, browsing the menu in silence. Soft chatter from the other patrons, and the soft classical music they played filling the comfortable silence between us. If I’m honest, I’ve only been here one other time. My previous birthday, Hyunjin brought me here. It was the first time we’d been somewhere so fancy, and we were quite underdressed, not knowing the dress code for the restaurant. We laughed about how badly we stuck out among the other patrons, but neither one of us cared. That memory alone made it my favourite place.

Hyunjin held my hand from across the table as we ate, catching each other up on our day as if we hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though I saw him yesterday. We rarely went a day without seeing each other, almost as if we had a need to be by each other’s side whenever possible.

We laid beside each other on the blanket Hyunjin brought, staring up at the night sky sparkling with stars. Soft music played from his phone that was laying in between us. He quietly sung along to the songs, and my heart swelled with joy. I absolutely loved listening to him sing, even though he hates singing in front of people. I’m sure I’m the only person that’s ever heard him, and honestly that should be a crime. His voice was my favourite in the entire world, but maybe I’m biased because I love him.

“We’re friends, right?” I asked, silencing his singing, and bringing his attention from the stars to me. I turned my head to face him, our eyes meeting.

“Of course.” He replied almost immediately.

“But are we just friends?” The question hung in the air longer than the first one, but neither one of us moved, our eyes still locked. The weight of his hand in mind suddenly clearer than it’s ever been before.

“What do you mean?” It was as if the words he meant to say were caught in his throat. I could hear it in the way his voice cracked when he answered.

“Our friends always tease us about dating.” I pointed out.

“That’s what friends do.” He smiled, his thumb now running over my knuckles. My skin burned from his touch, but I loved the feeling.

“We’re always holding hands and cuddling.”

“We’re touchy people.” He shrugged. I didn’t bring up the many times he told our other friends that he didn’t like skin ship. He wasn’t much of a hugger unless it was me. But I didn’t bring that up.

“What about all the fancy dinners? The plays? Movies? Stargazing?” I gestured to what we were doing right now with my free hand, refusing to pull my hand away from his, loving the feeling of his hand in mine. I always have.

“I like spoiling you.” Silence fell upon us again as I tried to think of what else to say. So many more things to point out, but I’m sure he had an explanation for it all. The drawers of my stuff at his place, and the drawer of his stuff at my place. The loving captions on pictures we posted of each other. The heart-shaped necklace he gave me one day, our initials engraved on the back of it. He’d have an explanation for it all, that I’m sure of. But there’s one thing he couldn’t explain away.

“I’m in love with you.” The words rolled off my tongue before I could stop them, as if they were meant to be said in that moment. He could explain all the cute moments and thoughtful gifts, saying it’s just the way our friendship is. That’s just how close we were. But the love I have for him isn’t platonic.

My confession hung in the air like a neon sign, and the confidence I once had began to fade. But before I could take it back, his lips were on mine. The same lips I’ve been dreaming about kissing for years, were now pressed against mine in the sweetest kiss I’ve ever experienced. It was a kiss filled with love and passion. A kiss that couldn’t be explained in a platonic way. “We aren’t just friends.” He whispered after pulling away. “I don’t think we ever were.”

He kissed me again when dropping me off at home that night, whispering a quick I love you before I walked into the house I shared with Felix. “How was your date?” Felix teased when he saw I was home.

“Perfect.” I smiled, watching as his eyes widened at the fact I didn’t bant with him.

“You’re not denying that this was a date?” He questioned, fully emerging from the kitchen, where he was most likely baking brownies.

“Why would I?” I kicked my shoes off and placed my purse on the coffee table before sitting on the couch, still on cloud nine.

“Because you always do? You and Hyunjin are just friends.” I smiled and shook my head.

“Hyunjin and I are definitely dating.”

#stray kids imagine #stray kids au #skz au #skz imagine #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin au #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin

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genshinwritings · 4 years

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Childe x fem!Reader NSFW

Word Count: 6108 Warning: Mature Content 18+, spicy smut A/N: It was so long so I decided to make an own post for this request. I’ve been staring at my screen for the last 7 hours, my brain is dead now, hahah. I don’t own any of those words anymore as soon as I post it--- just joking Enjoy it! ♥

Liyue was a beautiful city to say the least, always crowded with different people, full of culture and there was always something new for you to learn every day. Most people were staying in the city for only a few days, perhaps because of business appointments or just to visit their family which lived there, yet you rarely saw the same face twice. Within only a few days you had gotten to know all the people that lived there or those who were visiting Liyue for a longer time.

You had been assigned to look for a certain person in Liyue but up until now they hadn’t shown up, leaving you with a lot of free time and almost nothing to do. You spent most of your day simply strolling through the city with nothing to do, greeting the different people here and there, before returning to your hotel room the evening.

A few weeks ago you had met Childe, a member of the Fatui. You had been careful around him since the day you found out about his affiliations, not wanting to get too close to him. After spending some time with him you really had to admit that he seemed like a nice and outgoing man which caused you to lower your walls of self defense. He had been staying in the city for a longer time as well and since everyone usually disappeared again after two or three days, the two of you decided to stay in contact, just in case.

You noticed him often waiting in front of the hotel you were staying in and whenever you went out, he would instantly be by your side with his usually flirty grin on his lips. He would make a remark about how destiny keeps pushing you two together, though you knew that it was nothing like that.

Over the past couple weeks he had often asked you to go on a date with him but you had always told him that you’re not interested in a relationship or anything like that, you simply did not have the time for it. He would always smile cheekily and brush it off like you had not said anything at all before taking you somewhere to get some food.

In the end it would always end up the same, before you even have a chance to ask for the bill, the waiter will tell you that your partner already paid for you. Childe will smile cheekily at you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the restaurant.

Whenever you tell him that he should not make anything up in his mind, he will laugh and tell you that he would never do something like that and that it’s you who should be careful not to fall for him. You almost hated yourself for liking this guy; he was a flirty narcissist but at the same time an utterly lovable and romantic man. The way he was talking and acting around you won you over every time.

Childe has always treated you like a princess, causing your feelings for him to grow even stronger, even though you always told yourself that it was a mistake.

Your day started off like any other day, you got up and went out to grab a cup of coffee at the harbour before strolling around and returning back to the hotel in the evening.

A faint smile formed on your lips upon seeing Childe already waiting for you in front of the building as you arrived. “You’re always missing me so much, aren’t you?” You said with a teasing voice while approaching him, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

Ocean colored eyes focused on yours, a cheeky smile forming on Childe’s lips upon hearing your words as he lightly shrugged his shoulders. “Aren’t you sure that you’re not the one who’s missing me all day?” He replied just as teasingly while tilting his head to the side, looking innocently down at you.

He already knew that he was right because of the way your cheeks colored in a light pink and the way you tried to avoid his eyes. “Stupid..” You muttered as you gently nudged his shoulder before sighing defeated, signaling him to follow you as you walked towards the entrance of the hotel.

The lobby was crowded as usual in the evening. Many people would arrive in Liyue in the evening or at night with the ship and look for a place to stay in, mostly resulting in the city being fuller during the night than during daytime. You were happy that you had been staying at this hotel for a while now, you knew all the people who worked there and everybody knew you, it was almost like a second home to you.

When you and Childe reached the elevator you pressed the button for your assigned floor while another sigh left your lips as you leaned back against the wall. “I somehow love Liyue for being so crowded at night but at the same time, I kinda hate it.” You mumbled while looking up at Childe who was standing behind you, leaning back against the wall as well while staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s good when it’s full and crowded, people tend to mind their own business then and won’t get involved with anything else.” He replied calmly while shrugging his shoulders, pushing his hands into the back pockets of his pants.

You never got to know the exact reason why Childe was staying in Liyue, you had never asked him about it but you also got the feeling that if you were honest with yourself you would not want to know about it. Being a member of the Fatui and all, his reason to stay here could never be a good one.

You were startled when a small ‘ping’ signaled you that you had arrived at the tenth floor, the doors of the elevator opening. You went out first, feeling Childe’s presence close behind you as you slowly trotted over to the door of your room, your fingers fumbling around in your pockets as you were looking for the keycard.

“Why are you even here now? Couldn’t find me in town in the afternoon?” You asked Childe playfully as you unlocked the door, gesturing him to walk in first before following him inside.

You kicked the door shut behind you before taking off your jacket and throwing it over the next chair that was standing around.

Childe watched you amusedly as you made your way to the kitchen, taking out two glasses from the counter before placing them in front of you. “Do you want to drink something?” You asked him while holding up a bottle of Dandelion wine, a mischevious smile on your lips. It was the only thing you were able to offer him besides normal water, you were living on your own the whole time and that clearly showed when looking at your belongings and provisions. “It would be a shame to deny that offer.” He laughed lightly as he entered the kitchen behind you, leaning against the counter while watching you pour the glasses of wine.

“Other than that I’m here because… I don’t know. I guess, I thought it would be more fun to spend some time with you rather than sit alone in my hotel room all night. Perhaps I also knew that it was your plan to drink some wine today and perhaps it’s not very gentleman like to let a woman drink on her own.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, laughing at his comment before turning towards him, handing him a glass of wine. His eyes deeply focused on yours.

You could swear that you saw a glint in his eyes, a playful one which was practically begging for you to continue his game. “I see, I see. Since when are you a gentleman though?”

“I’ve always been a gentleman, have I ever done anything to you that would prove me different?”

You took a sip of your wine, gently laughing it off. Indeed he had never done anything that would make him look like an asshole; he was always nice around you and treated you for food, he always made sure that you were feeling good and happy and at night he always made sure to walk you home.

The only not so gentleman like thing that came to your mind was Childe sometimes suggesting you to ‘go and have some fun together’ in the evening or late at night, even though he had never showed any intention of getting closer to you.

You were suspecting before that he was always joking during those moments, but with time passing you noticed him occasionally making remarks like that, intending that he wanted to become more physical with you.

You were absentmindedly sipping on your wine, a small shock running down your spine when Childe’s arm wrapped around your waist. He was guiding you towards the balcony that was connected to your room, opening the glass door before stepping out into the cold night air, pulling you along with him. Underneath you were crowded streets, lots of people passing by while the shoplights illuminated the small town. Liyue had it’s own charm, you had to admit that.

You swirled the wine around in your glass while biting your lower lip, thinking about an accurate response to his question. “I think you somehow are a gentleman but.. at the same time you aren’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking another sip of your wine as you heard Childe’s footsteps behind you. You were expecting him to stand next to you, to watch the people beneath you but instead you were startled when you felt his hot breath at the nape of your neck. Gently he swung his arms around you from behind, one hand holding his glass while he placed his other hand on the railing in front of you.

“Care to explain that..?” Childe spoke with a low voice, faking a confused undertone before pressing a faint kiss to the crook of your neck.

“I’m always courteous when I’m around you, I never do anything you don’t like…”

You could feel his hot breath on your ear, a cold shiver running down your spine as his tongue traced the shell of your ear. “It’s just..” You started to whisper, swallowing your words as he nibbled gently on your earlobe, his addicting scent rising to your nose.

“You are a gentleman..” You started again, taking a careful sip of your wine before continuing to speak. “… but you’re also intimidating, mysterious and somehow a dangerous person.”

“I see..” Childe laughed softly before leaning himself against you, your back pressing against his broad chest while your abdomen pressed against the cold railing. He took a sip of his wine, his other hand slowly wandering to your waist.

He enjoyed your clueless reaction, the way you did not do anything to stop him and the way your body shivered against his. The effect he had on you was immense and he certainly knew that, he loved playing little games with you.

You took a deep breath before turning around in his arms, staring up into his sapphire colored eyes. There was this glint inside them, the one that always showed when he was about to make a stupid joke about getting physical, yet it was different this time. He did not say anything, he simply stared down at you before his free hand cupped your cheek gently.

“Are you afraid of me right now?” He asked you huskily, his thumb carefully brushing over your lips while he smirked evilly. Everything inside you was screaming not to give in, that it’s wrong to get to close to him, but your body and the building desire inside you were taking control. There was a faint blush on your cheeks as you tried to avoid his eyes, him quickly reacting to catch your chin between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him.

“I asked you, are you afraid of me?”

Childe leaned in closer to you, slowly tilting his head to the side while his lips hovered right above yours. You could feel his breath on your face as the he spoke, your knees slowly turning weak as you thought about how to frame your answer. “Right now, I could never. There is no reason for me to be afraid.”

He chuckled. “If you knew what I would like to do to you right now, you would be afraid, I’m sure, babe.” The way that petname slipped over his lips made you moan quietly against his mouth. It send a tingly feeling right down to your core, leaving you wanting for more.

Upon hearing that sound Childe withdrew himself from you, gently taking your glass from your hand before moving to place them aside. You felt the heat rushing to your face as he turned back to you, both of his hands gently placed on your waist while he stared down at you.

You could feel your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you tried to avoid his eyes, your hands gripping onto the railing behind you to gain some strength of posture. You faked a small laugh, wanting him to know that you were not this easy to break, even though you certainly craved for him to touch you.

“I don’t think there’s anything that would make me be afraid of you, Sir.” You spoke teasingly, making sure to emphasize the last word. Inhaling deeply you searched for the courage to stare back up at him, a small innocent smile forming on your lips.

Childe couldn’t help but to smile as well, he was seeing right through your schemes, knowing all too well that you were playing all this confidence in front of him. The way your body reacted to him, the way he could easily make you feel bothered and worked up, he knew that he had this effect on you and he would love to play a game with you, especially because he noted that challenging undertone when you addressed his title.

His hands slowly wandered from your waist down to grab your butt firmly in his hands, his body pressing against yours again. His building arousal pressed against your lower abdomen as he leaned slowly closer to whisper in your ear again. “I would love to turn you around right now and rub my cock against that nice perky ass of yours..”

He squeezed your butt again, pressing a small kiss to the shell of your ear. “I would love to bend you over this railing and fuck you hard, til you can’t help but to scream my name anymore, letting all those people down there know it.”

You felt yourself shivering, his words echoing through your body and leaving a trail of desire behind. His words translated to an image in your mind right away, the thought of getting caught looking oh so seductive to you. “There’s still nothing to be afraid of..” You teased him, one of his hands sliding up to your lower back while his other hand cupped your cheek gently again.

He pulled himself from your ear to look at you, his lips brushing gently over yours as he smiled, his face only centimeters apart from yours. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

With those words he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a short kiss, a soft mewl leaving your lips as you did not even have the time to cherish that feeling of his lips on yours when he separated himself from you again.

Your placed your hands shakily on his chest, holding onto the fabric of his grey jacket as he laughed lowly, seeing all your confidence you faked a minute ago leaving your body already. “I want to know how good your lips feel around my cock.. which sounds you make when I fuck your throat relentless. I bet you’re such a good girl but right now you’re just too stubborn.”

You licked your lips at the thought of it, your reaction not staying unnoticed by him as his lifted your chin up with his index finger to make you look at him. “I want to break you..” He whispered lowly before slamming his lips against yours for a sloppy and passionate kiss, his arousal rubbing against your lower body as you pressed yourself against him to intensify the kiss.

The way his tongue skillfully poked your lips apart caused you to moan, your fingers starting to fumble around with the buttons of his jacket. His taste was addicting, the way his tongue caressed yours as he dominated the kiss. Carefully he slung an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding from your chin over your throat down to your chest. You were willing to let yourself fall into pleasure, to give in to him and you knew that if you did not stop him now, there would be no going back anymore.

Childe pulled away from you shortly to take a breath, watching your hands undo the buttons with a grin on his lips. “Eager, aren’t we?”

He let you continue with your actions as he moved to press small kisses on your neck, another small moan leaving your lips as your hands finally found their way to his bare chest. Your fingers ghosted over his well toned muscles, his skin burning underneath your palms.

His breath hitched as your fingers wandered over his chest, towards his broad shoulders, gently pushing the fabric back. You could feel him grin against your neck, his hands letting go of you to help you get rid of his jacket along with his gloves. A small yelp slipped past your lips as Childe bit down on the soft skin at the crook of your neck, his hands slinging around your body again to hold you close.

His warm skin was burning against you and the only thing that was running through your mind was the thought of what his bare form felt like against yours, what it felt like to get touched by him, to get dominated.

Your hands shivered as they went to explore his broad shoulders, his muscles constricting underneath your touch. You couldn’t help but to moan, knowing that all this was still part of his teasing. “Childe..” You murmured but he didn’t react, gently sucking on the skin of your neck. You were sure that he was leaving a hickey, one that you would surely have to hide but at the moment you couldn’t care less.

“Sir..” You spoke with a shaking his voice, his teeth sinking in to your flesh again before he groaned lowly in your ear. “That’s right, call me Sir.” His hands found their way to your butt again, firmly squeezing your rear before he lifted you up against him. A surprised sound left your lips as your legs wrapped around his middle, his eyes focusing on yours as he smirked.

The way he was looking right now was so utterly sexy to you, lusty eyes glancing up at you, his hair slightly messy and his upper body bare. You leaned in to catch his lips in another seductive kiss as Childe slowly walked back inside with you, making sure not to break the kiss. He made his way towards the bed that was placed in middle of the open room, throwing you on the mattress in front of him.

He licked his lips while watching you as you crawled to the edge of the bed, carefully sitting on your knees as you glanced up at him with innocent eyes. “What can I do for you, Sir..?”

Childe gently caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips as he absentmindedly spoke to you. “Open up that pretty mouth of yours.”

The way he spoke, low and huskily send another spark through your body, leaving you hot and bothered while a needy moan left your lips.

You tried rubbing your thighs together to gain some kind of friction as you opened your mouth, complying to his words like a decent girl. “What a good girl you are..” He whispered while holding out his index and middle finger in front of you, his other hand sliding over your cheek. “Now suck them..”

Slowly you leaned forward to wrap your lips around his finger, the light salty taste making you moan. Your tongue swirled around his dry fingers as you slowly started to move your head back and forth, never breaking the eye contact as you tried to take them in as deep as possible. “Oh, aren’t you a good one?”

Childe spoke amused before laughing shortly. The power he had when it came to you gave him an insane pleasure and the way you were complying to his demands left him almost speechless. Though there was still one thing that was bothering him big time. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his voice harsh as he spoke. “Take your clothes off. Now. “

You were shivering in anticipation, wanting to feels his hands on your body again or his fingers in your mouth but you knew that this was only the beginning.

You rubbed your thighs together while slowly grabbing the hem of your shirt, your cheeks flushing in a crimson red shade as you slowly pulled it up and over your head. Childe’s eyes lingered on you, watching your actions oh so carefully as he bit down on his lip.

You were so turned on by him and so was he, his pants becoming immensely uncomfortable as he watched you undoing your bra. You let the piece of fabric slide down from your shoulders, your nipples hardening due to the surrounding cold as you tossed the bra away.

“Fuck..” You heard Childe mumble under his breath as he slowly stepped closer to the bed. He pressed his hands against your shoulders and forcefully pushed you down against the mattress, one of his knees pressing between your legs so you spread them open for him, while his lips hovered above yours.

“You’re wasting so much fucking time.. but it’s so nice to watch. I’ve imagined this before..” He spoke lowly while placing is hand on the side of your breasts, pressing against the skin to make them jiggle in his hands.

“But seeing it in reality is so much better, don’t you think?” His thumbs brushed over your perky nipples, sending a shock right down to your core as a throaty moan slipped past your lips. His lips pressed against yours gently to make you shut up, his hands kneading your soft mounds as his tongue invaded your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to groan softly as he ground his hips against yours firmly, the friction making you feel lightheaded as you instantly wrapped your legs around his middle. Childe pulled away from you, his breathing heavy as he pressed a small kiss to your collarbone before moving to face your breasts.

“So soft.. and beautiful.” He whispered lowly while rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nipple, teasing your other breasts with his tongue. Sensually he swirled his tongue around your hardened bud before sucking it into his mouth, lightly nibbling on it before releasing it again.

Your back arched up, your bare tummy pressing against his chest as you moaned loudly, a light chuckle leaving his lips. He pushed you back down against the mattress with his free hand, biting down on your nipple again while pressing his hips against yours. “Sir…” You muttered incoherently, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as he moved his mouth to suck on your other nipple, nibbling on biting on the skin while his hands keeps pressing you down.

You yelped from the pain upon him becoming harsher with his bites and nibbles, your hips rolling up against his to somehow make him move. “What do you want..” He whispered against your skin, lustful eyes staring at you while he squeezed your chest.

Slowly he scooted up to sensually lick over your lips, a small groan leaving his lips as you darted out your tongue to meet his. You leaned in to kiss him but he was quick to pull away. He sat up in front of you, his hands sliding from your chest to your tummy down to your hips.

Skillfully he undid the button of your pants, smiling satisfied as you raised your hips without a need for his command. He grabbed the hem of your pants and underlying panties, carefully sliding them down your thighs in one go, humming softly as you raised your legs to help him take them off of you.

He watched you hungrily as you spread your legs wide in front of him, a small blush on your cheeks as you glanced into his eyes. “Touch me, Sir..”

You felt the burning desire pool in your stomach as you held your legs up high to give him a better view of your body, your eyes filling with a tint of neediness.

Slowly he reached out, his cold hand wandering down your lower body as you arched your back, moaning as his index finger came in contact with your clit. “Like this..?” He asked teasingly, sliding his fingers through your wet folds before inserting one finger inside you.

“Or do you want me to touch you like this..” Childe pushed his finger in and out of you slowly, a smile on his lips as he leaned down to flick his tongue against your clit. Your back arched as you moaned out his name loudly, your hands grabbing onto the soft fabric underneath you as you tried to scoot away from him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He muttered and grabbed your hips quickly, throwing your legs over his shoulders while looking up at you. He leaned in again, his tongue sliding over your wet slit before he moved his hands closer again, this time inserting two fingers into your wetness.

He sucked on your clit, swirling his tongue around your most sensitive bud while quickly and forcefully thrusting his fingers in and out of you, wet sloppy sounds echoing through the room.

You screamed out in pleasure, tilting your head back as you felt yourself getting close to your release faster than ever. Normally it took you much longer than that to get this riled up but with Childe’s skilled fingers and mouth, it was as easy as sliding down a hole.

You closed your eyes shut, your womanhood clenching around his fingers as he quickly pulled himself away from you, leaving you gaping and gasping for air. Your body was shivering out of pleasure as you tried to somehow gain a relieving friction by rubbing your thighs together but Childe’s firm grip on your thighs was strong.

He moved up from the bed while watching you lustfully, your eyes following his hands as they moved to unbutton his pants.

You were licking your lips eagerly while imagining the size of his cock and the way it would taste like in your mouth, crawling closer to the edge again with shaking legs. “Lay down on the edge, head down..” He grumbled while pushing his pants down to his ankles, quickly kicking them off while watching you.

Your eyes were focused on the bulge in his boxers, the way his member stood proud and tall against the fabric, leaving only a few things to your imagination. You quickly complied and rolled over on your back again, your head placed over the edge of the mattress as you glanced up at Childe while opening your mouth, sticking out your tongue playfully.

“Such a good girl, already opening up..” He muttered while pushing his boxers down to reveal his arousal to you, quickly managing to take them off before stepping closer to you. You licked your lips absentmindedly as you stared at his erected cock, standing proud in a curve, a small drop of precum sliding from the tip down its shaft.

Childe moved closer to you, one of his hands gently placed at the back of your head as he pushed down his cock and inside your mouth. He groaned huskily, the feeling of your lips around his cock being so much better than he had imagined it before.

You tried to relax as he started to move his hips carefully back and forth to thrust in and out of your mouth, all the while staring at you. Your eyes became teary, your hands grabbing onto the soft sheets next to you. “You’re taking my cock in so nicely..” He mumbled while pulling out his cock almost completely from your mouth, chuckling as you quickly gasped for air. “What a good filthy slut you are.”

You moaned against his member as he thrusts himself completely in your mouth again, his movement slowly becoming rougher and harder with every thrust.

The way your throat vibrated against his arousal made him growl, the sounds of you choking on his dick being music to his ears. He quickened his pace, one of his hands slowly making its way to your throat, his fingers tenderly wrapping around your neck.

You mewled softly against his cock as he put pressure on his fingers, the feeling of him choking you sending a tingly feeling through your body. For him it was one of the best things he had ever felt, your mouth around his cock and the way your throat tightens when he chokes you.

You nudged his thighs as you tried to pull away from his touch, the need to breathe in fresh air becoming unbearable. As he released his hand from your throat, he pulled himself out of your mouth once completely, moaning due to the sight of you heavily breathing in front of him, your chest heaving quickly up and down.

The moment he released you you felt more than lightheaded, all the blood rushing back inside your brain as your insides clenched on nothing so hard it hurt. “Please..” You murmured defeated, your words only earning a small laugh from Childe. “Please what..?”

“Please, fuck me, Sir.” You spoke, looking up at him with tears eyes as you slowly crawled to sit on your knees again. The sight of you was more than beautiful to him, the way your lips were plump and swollen, your teary eyes from fucking your throat and the pleads that were leaving your mouth. He could have fallen for you right at that moment.

Gently, he cupped your cheeks in his hands to press a faint kiss to your lips, your body shivering from the excitement. Your skin was on fire, your core so sensitive that it just needed a light touch of his to make you cum right there. One of his hands wandered to your throat again as he pulled you up from the bed, his other hand slinging around your waist as he deepened the kiss while dragging you towards the door of the balcony.

His movements were growing impatient, his grip surely going to leave a mark on your throat tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. When the cold night air hit your bare body, a dry moan left your lips. Childe smiled against your lips before pulling away from the kiss, his hand sliding from your throat up the nape of your neck, before grabbing a handful of your hair, pulling you backwards.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? I think everyone needs to see what a good girl I have right here.” You could feel the cold railing press up against your bare ass, as he yanked your hair back causing you mewl. “Leave that mouth open for me.” He whispered and you complied to him, your hands pressing against his chest as you looked up into his eyes, sticking out your tongue. He caressed your cheek gently before grinning, spitting in your mouth while watching you with lazy eyes.

You swallowed it before a small groan left you, the taste of his saliva being something that was addicting to you.

A small action that turned you on so much and made your legs shake. “Such a good girl.. Now to the fun.” He said, his voice almost sounding like he threat as he grabbed you by your hips, forcefully turning you around and pressing you against the railing.

You could see the crowded streets underneath you, lots of people passing by which could possibly see you but your rational mind had left you long ago. “Sir, please give it to me..” You moaned out, not caring about your surroundings in any kind of way as you felt him move up behind you, his arousal pressing against your ass.

His hands moved to your butt again as he massaged each cheek, jiggling them around with his cock placed between them. “It’s really sad.. I’ve also imagined what it’s like to fuck that sweet little ass of yours.” Childe leaned closer so he could whisper in your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating. “But I guess, I’ll leave that for the next time.”

With those words his hands grabbed onto your hips, carefully positioning himself at your entrance before eagerly pushing himself inside you.”Fuck.” You hissed loudly, your hands holding tightly onto the railing as his cock stretched your insides, your mind feeling hazy.

A low groan left his lips as he stayed still inside you for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your tight pussy around him, clenching him with so much need and desire, leaving him wanting for more. He pulled himself out completely, his eyes focused on his cock as he slammed himself back inside, repeating this action at a quick pace.

“Sir, please, fuck me good.” You almost screamed out, biting your lips hard to suppress any more sounds, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing above the heads of the passengers.

You could feel him chuckle beside your ear, his hand finding its way to your throat again as he pulled your back up against his chest, quickly thrusting himself in and out of you at a merciless pace. “Let me hear your beautiful voice.” He moaned out, his free hand wandering down between your legs to rub your sensitive clit.

Several filthy sounds slipped past your lips, your eyes widening due to the immense pleasure. “Childe.. “ You moaned out, your hips moving back against his to meet his thrusts, a hot burning feeling slowly building up in your abdomen.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, breathing heavily as Childe pushed roughly in and out of you. A small scream left your lips as you grabbed onto the hand that rested between your legs, your nails digging into his skin as you walls clenched around his cock.

Childe was swearing next to your ear, his pace not dying down as you came hard around his cock, feeling his own pleasure building up inside him. “Shit..You’re so beautifully tight.” He moaned, not even thinking about giving you a minute to calm yourself down from your orgasm.

His hand continued rubbing your clit, the over stimulation sending almost sending you over the edge right again.

Childe’s fingers slowly tightened around your throat, his pace slowing for a few seconds as you felt like you were about to pass out. He slammed himself back inside you as he felt his own orgasm slowly building up. “Cum for me again, babe.” He whispered huskily, releasing your throat from his grip, the blood rushing back into your brain, the pleasure inside you burning hot as you came a second time.

The way your walls clenched so wonderfully tight around his cock drove Childe crazy, his thrusts becoming harder again, his breathing uneven as he bit harshly down on your shoulder.

Another loud moan left your lips as Childe pulled himself out of you, his fingers wrapping around his cock as he pumped his shaft quickly up and down. A loud groan left his throat as he came over your ass, gently slapping his cock against your skin, coating it with his cum.

“You’re incredible..” He muttered as he came down from his height, your body shivering and your legs weak as you leaned over the railing, trying to catch your breath.

He laughed softly while watching you, gently caressing your side while still panting slightly. “Shall I take you back inside?”

#childe x reader #childe #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact childe #childe headcanons #childe scenario #genshin impact scenario #childe smut #genshin childe #here you go yo thirsty peeps #i will disappear now hahaa

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years

Text

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!! (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names , @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up.

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew.

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture.

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love.

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames.

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in.

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him.

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though.

“That would be nice,” He said softly.

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24.

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces.

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway.

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower.

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights.

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it.

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around.

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though.

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head.

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers.

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive.

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death.

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be.

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep.

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

“What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask.

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape.

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away.

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--”

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins.

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid.

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away.

“Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed.

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that?

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top.

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside.

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.”

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made.

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it.

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun.

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet.

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways.

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it.

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine.

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back.

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad.

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet.

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear.

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do.

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him.

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face.

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime.

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen fanfiction #xmen

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spenciegoob · 4 years

Text

Cracked Mirror

A/N: hi, I continued to see a bunch of “season 2 Spencer would be so scared of season 12 Spencer, so I decided why not write them meeting? let’s do it, baby super angsty :P it took everything in me to not tag ‘how it should’ve gone’ but basically this is ‘how it should've gone.’

Summary: Spencer Reid? Meet a very much older Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Season 15 Spencer & Season 2 Spencer

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: no ship, mentions of drug addiction, drug abuse, Tobias Hankel, Maeve, mentions of Jeid

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

_____

Spencer 15:

The smell was always the first thing I noticed when I woke up from a restless sleep. It meant I was alive, that the terrors that danced across my eyelids like a ballad of the doomed were not real. I never believed in the Higher Power, but if there was an Evil Spirit, it possessed my mind the second my guard fluctuated.

The smell, however, the one made up of stiff air that paralyzed you and blood you weren’t sure was yours, that smell meant I got to live another day.

It also meant I could still die.

But now I woke up in a startle because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I escaped this place before, I made it out. Did my only indicator of life just turn into my own personal Hell? Was I finally gone, seconds ago hoping for rest only to come to the conclusion that I would never get the chance?

I was back in a gray jumpsuit, and what scared me the most was how quickly I got up to make my bed.

“Reid, you have a visitor.”

Spencer 2:

They say every person in their career has a moment that changes the way they view their job forever, and I would’ve liked to continue to believe I had mine already, when I put away the first unsub that didn’t deserve the life they were unfortunately gifted to live out. I know I couldn’t sleep much after.

But now that I hurry past empty cells and recreation rooms on my way to a stone box with a killer, I changed my mind.

This was my moment.

I had to keep up with Hotch, and I wish it was because I was scared of getting lost, but it wasn't. If I lose Hotch, I’m afraid I’ll lose my life.

We just had to reach the interrogation room, and we’ll be fine. We just have to talk to... to who?

Who are we here to see? Why am I here?

“Hotch.” The older man stopped his fast pace to turn to me exasperated. I would have that expression too if someone stopped me in a place like this, but here I am, feet stuck to ground like a fear-inducing glue because I can’t remember why I’m here.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

“Why am I here?” Hotch didn’t get angry, or confused at my question. Instead, Hotch’s face turned into something that was a prized rarity at other times, but right now, it ran my blood cold.

He nodded at me, his face visibly relaxing with understanding, and kindness spreading from his eyes into mine.

“You have someone here you need to see.”

And then he just continued the path we were on until we reached a metal door with a window not large enough to see who was waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t get too close, giving myself a 5 foot head start in case I needed to run, but Hotch would never put me in a position like that, right?

He would never use me as a pawn in a game of life or death.

“Whenever you’re ready.” By the time all the questions flooded through my head like a tsunami that made it to the tip of my tongue, Hotch was gone.

The invisible magnetic field between myself and the door was a force backed up by science. I felt the way it tugged me forward, like negative and positive electrons charming me with the song of the buzzer unlocking it.

When I was ready, he said. Would I ever be ready for the feeling that washed over me? I felt the weight of the world rest on my shoulders, stuck in an ocean made entirely of resin, slowly hardening around me to keep me trapped.

But I still grasped the cool metal doorknob, and I wish I took a deep breath before entering. It was the wrong call on my part, because I walked in and all the oxygen left my lungs in a flash.

The air in the room felt different. It hung with the purpose of imprisoning those who dare breathe it into their lungs. Enchantment and intoxication were meant to hold beauty and grace, leading the charmed to a fulfillment in life worth living.

But the eyes of Medusa were in the room with me, and I was stupid enough to turn to stone.

“Who are you?” How could I ask that? I knew the answer by looking into his eyes. I say his, because they weren’t mine. Sure, they had the same hazel color, and the same round, boyish shape, but they looked so dull. Sadness, the kind that moves mountains and starts wars, was buried deep in the beholder, casting a shadow over his soul.

I didn’t stare for very long. I couldn’t.

“You know who I am.” His voice was worse. “I know why I’m here. Sit down.”

“I- I just... Absolutely not! This is- this, I- I can’t. I have to get out of here.” Insanity! It had to be. I was staring at a person I didn’t know, yet knew every little detail about, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Sit down before you panic.” There was no point in lying and saying I was fine, he knew it would be a lie. We weren’t just profilers.

So I sat, taking my time to round the table and pull the chair farther back to establish a far enough distance between us. He did the same. Of course he did.

“Answer my question,” I whispered, looking down at the place where the leg of the table met the top.

“There are far better questions to ask me.” He was right, there were more pressing matters at hand, but how do you ask someone what landed them in a jumpsuit when you were terrified of the answer?

“Did- is time travel a thing?” The second the question left my mouth, I realized how absurd it was, but so was staring into the cracked funhouse mirror I was currently stuck in front of.

“Come on, we don’t have much time, and that’s what you want to ask me? Dig deeper.” Is this how Morgan feels when I’m always right?

How could I dig deeper when it all went so far that the only thing consuming my soul was a bottomless black hole? The memories flashing from projectors all around me as I sank further until eventually my oxygen ran out. Going deeper meant letting the weight of my heart push against my chest like a rock thrown into the depths of the ocean, but I suppose he would follow me.

“What happened?” I looked up to see him take a deep breath, leaning back in the chair with careful contemplation. There was something more though, something that lingered the second we met eyes.

Jealousy. There was nothing of myself to be jealous about, however.

“We made too many mistakes.” We. Only one of us was in the jumpsuit. There had to be some way to avoid that, right?

“God, this is insane!” I promptly shouted, standing up frantically. “You’re the prisoner here, not me, okay? I didn’t do anything. You did. How am I even here? What is happening, I don’t understand.” At the end of my yelling, I was so far out of breath that I had to lean against the wall. “What is this?”

“Tobias Hankel.” No no no, it can’t be. Am I dead?

“Sit down.” I listened immediately this time, too exasperated to care about being cautious about it.

“You’re with him right now, and from what I can tell, you’re probably in a drug-induced dream.” My head shot up at the mention of Tobias’s coping mechanism for myself. “When you wake up, I don’t expect you to hold onto hope, but for that quick second you let go, don’t feel guilty about it. It will eat you alive if you do.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m right, and you need to listen to everything I’m telling you.” I was never one to make demands like this.

“And if I do? Will it stop me from becoming you?”

“No, probably not.” Before I had the chance to get angry again, I watched the way his eyes started to glisten with tears. I watched him crack a little bit more, adding to the already gaping slashes across his heart. How many more until he breaks?

“Leave them in his pocket,” he continued after taking a grounding deep breath. “You don’t need it.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretly, I knew what he was meant, because after this nightmare ended I would be back in a far worse one silently begging to return to this interrogation room.

There were so many thoughts running through my head that it was hard to focus on just one. Plus, I wasn’t really getting any context here.

“I don’t think I can give you many details. I don’t even know if we’ll remember this, or how I got here, but we don’t have much time. There are so many things you need to know.”

“I know practically everything.”

“No you don’t, kid. You know nothing.” He suddenly stood up, walking over to the wall on our left, leaning a hand against it and hanging his head. “When you feel like something is wrong with him, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell Hotch, request time off, do whatever you have to do. Just, go visit him.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know.” There was so much guilt in his voice that I felt it in my chest. It was like a hole was drilled into me, leaving my heart exposed to vultures who wouldn’t hesitate to rip pieces from me.

“What about my mom? Do I... you know?”

“No, you don’t, but promise me something.” He turned to look at me again, hazel meeting hazel. “On days that she’s lucid, tell her everything. Tell her what you ate for breakfast, and that one time Morgan fell trying to kick a door open. Tell her about the dark parts, about how much you love her. Tell her everything.”

“Oh God is she-”

“No. I don’t think I should be telling you that, but no. Don’t think like that.” As if remembering something, he rushed back over to sit down, pulling his chair in and leaning over the table. “Stop running every negative outcome of every situation in your head. Be careful, but don’t be so careful it becomes reckless. That’s how people get hurt, including you.”

“Is that what happened to you? Is that how you ended up here?”

“No. I’m innocent, always was. I ended up in here because I let myself get blinded by a fantasy I had no business dreaming about. There’s going to be times for you to have dreams bigger than yourself, but the second they start to become nightmares, you have to pull yourself back. Don’t get trapped, kid.”

“You know, Morgan calls me ‘kid’. I don’t really know if I like it or not.”

“You’ll come to love it, but with Morgan, don’t push him away. He’s one of the only few people in this world that won’t scrutinize or judge you, and you need to be honest with him.”

“Why?” After asking, I immediately regretted it, because his answer was the one I’ve been dreading the most.

“Because things are going to hurt you, and it’s okay to ask for help every once in a while.”

“What things? Tell me,” I begged, rushing my words and internally cringing at how desperate I sound, but I needed to know. I needed to know the truth.

“When you fall in love, tell her.” He casted his eyes downward, staring at his hands rough and calloused from the years, kind of like Hotch.

“Is it... is it JJ?”

“No,” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head softly. “You’ll learn one day the difference between being in love with someone, and just simply loving them.”

I couldn’t help the disappointment spread through me for a second, but I quickly gained my composure when I remembered I’m sitting across a profiler.

“This is too much.” My brain was starting to hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” A question crossed my mind causing my hands to stop their fidgeting for just a moment, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and my hands resumed. He caught it though. Of course he did.

“What was that thought?”

“My d-” I cleared my throat before continuing. “William. Did he ever...?” I let the words fade out, hoping that he would understand where I was going. He did. Of course he did.

“No.” He took a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching tightly. “He didn’t.”

“Oh.” While I was disappointed, he looked angry. As sick and twisted as it was, I wish I was more like him. Even with the despairing look in his eyes that came with agonizing memories, he was the man everyone expected me to be.

He looked at me as if he also wished the roles were reversed. Of course he did.

The edges of the room slowly started to get fuzzy, my vision blurring for a second. “You’re waking up.”

“Can- can I ask you something?” Even though I was terrified of the answer.

“Of course.”

“When did it all go wrong?” He let out a long sigh before running his hands down his face.

“I can’t tell you the exact moment, because even I’m not sure. I can tell you that even when it doesn’t feel like it, you’re alive. You survived, and on some days that’s all that’s going to matter.”

“Do you smell that?” Please say yes, because the smell of burning fish hearts and livers was burning my nostrils and clouding my head.

“Wake up, Spencer. It’s okay.”

“Wait!”

Spencer 15:

My eyes shot open only to be met with blinding lights that seared my pupils. The beeping coming from the machine next to me was the second thing I noticed, and the third was a very alarmed Penelope.

“What happened?” My voice was raspy, and my throat burned intensely.

“You don’t remember? Spencer, you collapsed.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Logically, I knew I probably sustained a head injury from the explosion, but when I tried to think beyond that, my brain got fuzzy.

“Are you okay? You know, besides the whole passing out thing?”

“Y-yeah, I just.” I stopped talking. Just what? Penelope hummed curiously for me to continue, but I couldn’t.

“I think I got a second chance.” No matter how vague it was, how little she knew of what that truly meant, Penelope beamed with joy at my answer, and I smiled right back.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” And when she left, I stared up at the ceiling, hoping that the scared kid I used to be took my advice.

____

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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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sanjisock · 3 years

Text

more than words

50 words; 50 sentences

ao3

#01 - Motion

A spinning kick, a swing of blade — the two meet and hit but don’t hurt, and Nami sighs exasperatedly at such a pathetic display of a mating dance.

#02 - Cool

Zoro stands his ground as his enemy — finally, finally — falls unceremoniously on his back, unconscious, and Sanji thinks for a moment that the sight of Zoro — wild and victorious and ready to take on the world — looks kind of, maybe, slightly cool.

#03 - Young

Brook sees the two — dying to die for each other, the weight of their friends’ lives pulling down their shoulders — and he thinks too many people forget how young they still are.

#04 - Last

The Cook is the last person Zoro would consider lending a hand in a fight — “who would want to work together with that dumbass anyway,” he lies whenever anyone asks, and doesn’t admit that it’s because he trusts Sanji’s ability to stand his ground, wholly and fully.

#05 - Wrong

Sanji knows Zoro, like him, understands better than most — that this nakama thing isn’t just something you’d die for, but something you’d kill for, too.

#06 - Gentle

Sanji manages to catch Kitetsu before it rolls off from the deck during a storm, and in that moment, Zoro knows, from the reverent way he regards the swords in his hands, that this isn’t the first time the Cook has wielded one.

#07 - One

“Calm down, Marimo,” Sanji says with a dismissive wave of his hand when Zoro asks about the sword a few days later, “I’m not about to take your place as the ship’s swordsman; a cook doesn’t use his hands to fight, and I had a terrible teacher anyways.”

#08 - Thousand

“I’m worth two thousand men,” Zoro grumpily says, almost sulking, and Nami can’t resist patting his head like she would to a little boy pulling the pigtail of a girl he has a crush on.

#09 - King

You’re like the prince of Dumbass Kingdom, Zoro says, and it takes Sanji everything in him not to blurt out, Dumbass Kingdom sounds about right; wait ‘till you see the fucking king.

#10 - Learn

Watching Sanji converse fluently with a couple of tourists in a Northern language, Zoro wonders when he will ever stop learning something new about Sanji — or if he ever will, at all.

#11 - Blur

When Zoro finally comes to, the wounds from Bartholomeow Kuma is muted by Chopper’s medicine, a dull throb at the back of his consciousness; but the sharp pain against his heart feels raw still, visceral and razor-sharp, tucked alongside the ache of Sanji’s sacrifice.

#12 - Wait

“Wait,” he manages to croak out before Sanji flees the room, the word spilling out unbidden; he isn’t quite sure why, but he knows that he wants the Cook to stay.

#13 - Change

“Have some fucking decency ,” Sanji yells, throwing a shirt at Zoro’s direction; the brute has been walking around the ship bare-chested like an eyesore ever since they entered the summer island, and Sanji is just trying to do everyone a favor — and definitely not because there’s a different kind of heat pooling at the pit of his stomach.

#14 - Command

Robin watches the two in amusement — Zoro could have easily refused to be Sanji’s pack mule, and she can hear him grumbling about it still; and yet, here they are, once again, together at the island’s marketplace.

#15 - Hold

Sanji is rough around the edges, bristling at the slightest touch; Zoro knows he needs to be gentle, but he doesn’t quite remember the last time he held something that isn’t a hilt of a sword, without meaning to hurt . It’s a learning curve.

#16 - Need

Sanji knows Zoro is a dumbass, but it takes a special kind of stupid to think he would never be good enough for Sanji, when he’s all that Sanji has ever needed.

#17 - Vision

Zoro never regrets losing his eye, but he wishes, sometimes, he could still take in the sight of Sanji with an unimpaired vision, just to see more of him.

#18 - Attention

“You’re starting a fight, Marimo?” Sanji growls, voice low and dangerous, and Zoro thinks, yes, yes, anything to get you to look at me.

#19 - Soul

He loves the kid like a brother, but sometimes Zoro hates how Luffy can easily see past his gruff words and feigned ignorance; the way Luffy only needs to take one look at him to guess, “you’re worried about Sanji, aren’t you?”

#20 - Picture

He carries around everyone’s bounty posters, Sanji tells himself, and tries not to think too hard about how the only one he kept in his breast pocket is Zoro’s, folded neatly against his heart.

#21 - Fool

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done so far,” Sanji says when they part, lips still tingling from their earlier kiss, because Zoro’s love is fierce and consuming and Sanji knows, ever since he was just a kid with the iron mask, that he doesn’t deserve any of this.

#22 - Mad

“Don’t you ever say that kind of shit again,” Zoro snarls, slamming the wall beside Sanji’s head, his voice trembling with a kind of anger Sanji has never seen him with before — frustrated, desperate. “You’re important to me, Cook.”

#23 - Child

Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji tells himself every day, the voice ringing in his ears; you stopped being a child deserving of a dream the moment you chained Zeff down to the ground.

#24 - Now

Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji wants to tell himself, but the voice stutters, drowned out by the sight of the kid bleeding on the deck of Baratie — he’s a swordsman, too, acknowledged by none other than Dracule Mihawk himself — but a kid still, throwing himself headfirst towards the case of his dreams, steps unweighted by regrets.

#25 - Shadow

Zoro doesn’t know which is worse — Sanji, forever running away from the shadow his brothers cast; or Zoro, chasing after someone who is no longer around to leave behind a shadow anymore.

#26 - Goodbye

After Whole Cake Island, there’s a period of time where Zoro would follow Sanji around the ship like a lost puppy, unwilling to let the Cook out of his sight; Usopp definitely didn’t expect Zoro to have such a cute side, and crouches over his new invention to hide his smile.

#27 - Hide

“We’re not doing that here,” Sanji hisses, and forces himself not to laugh at the pout on Zoro’s face; the galley might be secluded enough, but they’re still on the enemy ship’s galley.

#28 - Fortune

It is annoying, the way Sanji keeps reminding Zoro that he could have collected Mihawk’s bounty and lived the rest of his life in wealth; especially when Zoro would trade any riches in the world just to stay by the Cook’s side.

#29 - Safe

It catches Zoro off guard when Sanji starts talking about his mother; it’s a short anecdote, a single happy memory, but Zoro can tell by the way Sanji tells it — guarded and hesitant, like he wants to keep the words close and safe — that he has never shared it with anyone else before.

#30 - Ghost

Usopp starts shaking like a leaf as soon as they enter the abandoned, dilapidated house, and Sanji gently tells him, sometimes the worst ghost is the one you create yourself; Zoro feels the weight of Wado on his hip, and agrees.

#31 - Book

“I don’t need this,” Zoro grumbles with a blush, pushing the book back into Nami’s hands, trying hard to ignore Nami’s laughter and the words ROMANCE FOR DUMMIES emblazoned on the book’s jacket.

#32 - Eye

Shusui sinks into the man’s stomach, all the way to the hilt, and Zoro thinks of the way Sanji curled into himself as the man landed a lucky hit on the cook’s hand. An eye for an eye.

#33 - Never

“This is my first time,” Zoro whispers, head ducking away as he feels his face flush at the admission; but Sanji’s hand rests on his cheek, encouraging, and he can feel the curve of Sanji’s smile as their lips meet and Sanji replies, “it’s mine, too.”

#34 - Sing

Luffy cheers when Zoro and Sanji comes into view, and he lets them take on the next batch of enemies; a good fight is always fun, but watching Zoro and Sanji fight is even more so — like watching a dance that only those two know the melody to.

#35 - Sudden

“What, are we supposed to be surprised?” Nami says, barely looking up from the map she’s working on; Sanji sputters, face redder than the tomatoes he served during breakfast, and Nami feels almost bad for him.

#36 - Stop

“But we — Zoro and I — how did you know?” Sanji asks, and promptly stops asking questions when he realizes the rest of the crew aren’t surprised either; who could blame them, when his and Zoro’s sexual tension can be seen from a mile away.

#37 - Time

Sanji knows they have to break apart soon, just to breathe, but right now all he cares about is to taste as much of Zoro as possible — he has waited two years for this, and it has been two years too long.

#38 - Wash

They have their fair share of fighting — and how, considering the amount of repairs Usopp has to do for Merry just from their petty fights alone — but what the crew doesn’t know is that they also have this thing, this quiet thing, just him and the Cook and a stack of dirty plates between them.

#39 - Torn

“In retrospect,” Robin observes, “dressing up our dear cook in a maid uniform would not only lower the enemy’s firepower, but also ours, considering how distracted our swordsman has clearly become.”

#40 - History

“Why do you keep him around, mister?” The kid asks, pointing at the old swordsman with three swords and an eye scar by the peer; Sanji laughs, pats the kid on the head, and says, almost wistfully — “you can say we have some history.”

#41 - Power

Sanji tugs at Zoro’s sleeve, and Zoro follows suit despite his complaints — Sanji thinks, distantly, how much of an honor it is, to have so much control over such a powerful man.

#42 - Bother

“I didn’t have enough time to make this three-tier ice cream cake for our lovely Nami-san and Robin-chan because you distracted me!” Sanji says with a hard jab of a finger against Zoro’s chest, and Zoro thinks, good .

#43 - God

Zoro does not believe in gods, but there’s a hymn of a noise when Zoro presses his lips against the crook of Sanji’s neck, the hallelujah of the world breaking apart as their bodies move together, and he thinks, close enough .

#44 - Wall

Zoro slams his fist into the wall of Polar Tang, and is taken aback by the depth of his own frustration; he knows Luffy and the others will get Sanji back from Big Mom’s place, but it unsettles him still, the way Sanji hides himself under layers of pretenses when Zoro has bared so much of himself to the Cook in return.

#45 - Naked

“What the fuck was that for , Mosshead?!” Sanji shrieks, justifiably furious, leg raised and on fire after Zoro sliced his tray into two without preamble; Zoro can’t exactly tell the Cook he did it because he was too surprised at the sight of Sanji in a swimming trunk and nothing else.

#46 - Drive

Why Zoro , people sometimes ask, but the answer is easy to Sanji — nobody drives him crazy the way Zoro does, and is that not what true love feels like?

#47 - Harm

Zoro knows Sanji will be furious ; but as he faces Kuma, knowing at least the Cook is out of harm’s way, he knows he would do this a hundred times over, a thousand times over, a million times over.

#48 - Precious

Sanji is sitting by the corner of the infirmary, face pale with red-rimmed eyes, and Zoro thinks he’s never had that, before — people who would weep for him, knowing that he is more than dried scars and calloused skin.

#49 - Hunger

This thing we have is dangerous, Sanji tells him, but Zoro doesn’t care — he already has a craving, the same way he needs a booze when it’s been too long, except he thinks that this vice will surely kill him.

#50 - Believe

This isn’t faith; this is the truth, Zoro’s truth, the same way he knows he will become the Greatest — Sanji will find that elusive sea of his, and Zoro will stay with him until it is the last thing he can do.

#opfanfic #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years

Text

Companions React (+Maxson): Sole Comes Out As FtM

Note: I used he/him pronouns in this since the request was for a trans male Sole. However, if this was a misstep on my behalf (I am fully aware pronouns don’t equal gender so I may be wrong to assume all or most trans men use he/him pronouns), or if any part of this was handled poorly, please let me know so I can educate myself and come back and edit this. Thank you!

Cait:

Aggressively casual in response

“Ah, alright. What’s your real name so I don’t fuck up and call ya by your dead one?”

Honestly… doesn’t really react otherwise. She rolls with it quite easily and doesn’t feel the need for conversation unless it’s to make Sole more comfortable and for him to understand that she supports him fully.

Not good with emotions, though, so her support is gruff and short

She does her best

Very willing to beat the shit out of anyone who tries anything

Curie:

Enthusiastically supportive

“Oh, that’s wonderful monsieur! Congratulations!”

Beaming and gives Sole a big hug

Just wants him to know he’s always loved and accepted with her and isn’t afraid to ramble to make sure that gets through

Very conscious about what might make Sole dysphoric and is very adept about casually navigating around that stuff (ie subtly taking care of things that might be upsetting if she can)

Danse:

Easily summarized as “A little confused, but he’s got the spirit”

“Ah, congratulations Soldier.” A long pause. “I’m not quite sure what that entails.”

Fully on board once he gets the memo, just needs some guidance on what makes Sole most comfortable

Sole may find him practicing his name and pronouns over and over to himself- “This is Sole, he’s our best soldier.” or “Sole is the ideal recruit for this mission; he’ll know exactly how to handle it.”- when he thinks Sole can’t hear him.

Listens very attentively whenever Sole explains an aspect of his identity/transition to him

Just wants to make sure Sole’s happy

Deacon:

Also extremely casual

“Oh, nice Boss!” and goes for a high five

(I hc Deacon as nonbinary and genderqueer/agender) Quite knowledgeable already, so he doesn’t need much explanation other than personal preferences for things

Cuts in to quietly and politely remind people when other Railroad members slip up on pronouns/name.

Gage:

Confused and short about it but willing to learn

Also not one for many words so he just nods in response and does his best

May not vocally be enthusiastic like Curie but Sole’s overboss nameplate switches from their deadname to his real name overnight after he finds out

Doesn’t make a big show of it but he’s very quietly and behind-the-scenes supportive

Once again, unless someone tries some shit. Then he’s willing to break some bones.

Hancock:

“Damn, Sunshine. Now I’m not the handsome half anymore. I’m alright with bein’ the pretty one, though.”

Semi-casual, though he does ask a few questions to make sure he’s got the information he needs to make sure Sole is happy and he handles everything correctly

Gets very excited about the idea of matching uniforms

Plops his hat on Sole’s head and pats him on the back

Asks if they wanna get high in celebration

Haylen:

Quiet as Sole explains and then nods and mulls it over to make sure she’s understood everything correctly

Asks a few questions but doesn’t need much information other than Sole explaining what he needs to feel comfortable (real name, pronouns, etc)

After their conversation is over she stands and glances around before inviting him to tea

Tries to use it as a signal that nothing’s changed between them other than her getting to watch him become more comfortable with himself

MacCready:

“Oh… okay. Do we need to get you new clothes or are you okay with borrowing mine for now?”

Catches on pretty damn quickly, though his father instincts kick in and he becomes a bit over-worried

“This won’t give you dysphoria, right? I wanted to buy you new shirts as a surprise but I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

Frets that he might do something upsetting, but isn’t overbearing about it

Checks in to make sure he’s been handling everything correctly and hasn’t done anything to upset Sole every now and then

Maxson:

“Of course, Soldier. I’ll let them know to correct your paperwork and holotags immediately.”

Requests they stay for lunch so Sole can explain what this means in regards to changes around the ship and how he refers to him

Asks him how he wants to tell the others in the Brotherhood and how he can help Sole with that

Doesn’t show much emotion and is mostly business-like other than:

“Know that you have my support, Soldier. If you have any issues let me know and they will be resolved immediately.”

Nick:

“Sounds good, kid. What do I call you from now on?”

Checks in emotionally after Sole’s explanation to make sure that 1. No one’s been an ass and 2. He’s doing okay mentally

Lowkey has extra conversations with Ellie so they both can practice Sole’s name and pronouns

Piper:

Doesn’t need much of an explanation and catches on quite easily

She and Nat also practice Sole’s name and pronouns together when Sole’s not around

Nat helps her make a new honorary-journalist’s hat for him with his real name

Preston:

Needs a more in depth discussion; it’s not like he’s never met a trans man, but it was never a discussed thing. It was “Yup. He’s a dude.” and moving on.

Asks some questions to better understand Sole’s experiences

More serious and calm.

“You’ve always got my support, General.”

X6-88:

Literally no reaction

Switches name and pronouns easily and doesn’t blink about it

Can come across cold in his response- “Yes, sir.” and moves on

It’s not a topic of conversation to him to be honest, he makes the changes to make sure Sole’s comfortable, but doesn’t have a Preston or Curie type response

Unless Sole expresses discomfort about his casual handling of it, he doesn’t react much

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 headcanons #Cait #Curie #Paladin Danse #Deacon #Gage #Hancock #Scribe Haylen #RJ MacCready #Elder Maxson #nick valentine #Preston Garvey #X6-88

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

the shapes in the silence (11)

new chapter at the behest of one of my patrons! hope you enjoy! >:)

warnings: terrible coping mechanisms, antagonistic but not "evil" deceit, semi-vivid panic attack, suicidal implications/thoughts, arguing, an antagonistic and also genuinely evil cliffhanger, take care for realsies

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side.

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways.

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash.

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?”

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either.

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out your key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown.

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric.

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.”

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool.

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan.

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded.

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind now, Roman?”

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes.

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to grow!”

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is, why is this happening to us all of the sudden? It’s certainly not something we’ve had to deal with before.”

There was a terse silence.

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.”

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?”

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.”

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug.

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!”

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if his host recognized him?

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.”

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.”

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!”

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman.

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba.

Right in front of his host’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.”

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?”

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most.

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his host’s face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him.

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, his host was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need.

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his host’s chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why.

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.”

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!”

No, no no no. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come.

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless--

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?”

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit.

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that liar daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about himself and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off.

“Like I care about your newest pet project,” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.”

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?”

“Not just some way. All the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes.

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…”

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.”

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!”

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained.

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s Anxiety.”

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?”

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.”

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out.

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye.

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated.

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.”

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for your plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come home.”

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.”

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs.

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go?

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense.

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the solution remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent.

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap.

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously.

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows.

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken.

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred.

Then, there was only Puff.

#sanders sides #tiny dragon virgil #g/t #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts thomas #ts janus #writing #my writing #tsits #the shapes in the silence #mind the warnings #again for clarity this is Absolutely not the last chapter #or even close to it #ask to tag #lets hope the next chapter is a quicker process hm? *ominous evil wink*

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Hey Goldy, i'm positive Yoongi isn't straight and has been fairly open about it from the early years. So do u think that Yoongi could've influenced Jikook (especially Jimin cuz he is very close to him) in any sort of way on their journey?

Jimin is VERY close to Yoongi

Thank you so much for this statement😭

I feel seen and heard🤧

Not a lot of Jokers out here appreciate Yoonmin's bond😭😭😭😭

The disrespect! How dare they!

In reality, Yoonmin is one of the best ships that reflects the hyung dongsaeng dynamic perfectly in BTS in my opinion- Jinkook and Yoonkook, NamTae are heavy contenders I'd say but Yoonmin is right up there with them. Love Jihope too- if they could cut down on the flirting chilee.

No JHOPE I don't want you to call Jimin sexy or look at him like you want to gobble him with a glass of Sprite- it's weird😭😭😭

But also don't stop

From Suga 'bullying' Jimin, teasing him, praising him, mentoring him, the bickering- he is the biggest PJM right next to JK and Namjoon. I said what I said.

So thank you for this. I literally cried.

Feel so good to hear someone say that.

I'm having an existential crisis at the moment and Yoonmin is what is getting me through it at the moment.

People need to stop invalidating the members' bond. Seriously. Not cool. They all have beautiful dynamics real or not.

But he's gay? 🤔

You believe Suga is gay??

Damn.

He's queer and has been pretty open about it from the beginning???

A lot of people assume that about him actually. I think it's interesting.

Did he influence Jikook, Jimin in anyway...

If by influence you mean support then yes. I think he was and has been very supportive of Jimin and JK individually and has helped them embrace and make sense of certain aspects of themselves.

I think he's more understanding than most of the challenges and difficulties of being young and uncertain of who you are growing up under public scrutiny and in a highly hostile environment.

I think he is wise beyond his age and I have a ton of love and respect for him as both a person and an artist.

I love 'People' so much...

I think the most Iconic thing he's said so far to me is this totally woke, fanservice questioning and ridiculing statement:

'I didn't want to wear the maid outfit. I was surprised when they said it's for the fans. We don't have any interest in seeing girls wear men's clothes so why does the fans want us to wear women's clothes?'

It's weird. Fanservice is weird.

My least favorite moment of his is when he admonished JK not to say things like he'd want a tattoo when he grows up because the fans wouldn't like that.

I found that very contradictory for someone who's life motto is nevermind- or is it I don't give a shit?😏

Find it equally triggering whenever he teases JK about crying too much or being a cry baby as if it's wrong for men to cry. There's nothing wrong with shedding tears. Men cry too.

Then the bit about him not wanting tattoos or just a dot on his toe or feet or something because he has things he might want to do post BTS that having a tattoo would just be an inconvenience... quite conservative I'd say.

He don't give a fuck but then he gives a fuck?

Mans gotta be a realist or I'd chalk up these inconsistencies in his values to the clash between his Persona and his real self.

To be fair, he's not the only one. That conflict plays out in almost every member's outlook.

I see Yoongi as that one person who'd say to a person, go for it but end that advice with a caveat such as, 'but understand people will hate you for it' or some truth along those lies.

He places consequences right next to desire and as long as the person is not oblivious to and can bare the consequences of their actions, decisions and choices then I think he'd ask them to go for it and stand in their truth.

That much I know is his value and I can see how that might have impacted both JM and JK. But rather than encourage them to take risks, I think he pushes them to seize opportunities and put themselves outside- there's a difference there. Their not one and the same.

More than anyone in BTS, I think he understands the gravity of being queer, closeted or being in a relationship with a bandmate in the industry they work in.

I think he is much mature enough to understand the consequences of over attachment and risks of detachment and that too plays out in the way Jikook carry themselves around in the group.

Other than that, I think he minds his business most times.

Do I think he is open minded about conversations on sexuality? Absolutely.

But that's as far as I can go on the topic.

I do not believe he is queer and I'm not convinced in anyway he is pansexual or bisexual either- don't quote his song lyrics to me I already know. Lol.

Boy or girl my tongue will send you to hongkong....

And then his interviews about what he finds attractive in women??

'... it's not limited to boys or girls?'

Lolololololololol

I think that bit was heavily misconstrued.

'I'M NOT GAY'

This was his response when he was asked to talk about moments his heart skipped because of JHOPE. Similar to moments when the members had said their they almost fell for a band mate perhaps.

Other translations of that statement he made in the interview was, 'since we are both men, how can my heart throb for a man' and then he laughs it off.

Knowing Suga, I think he probably meant that in the most ridiculing, most mocking way possible- these interviewers be asking some stupid questions sometimes.

But imagine Suga saying that with two gay members sitting right next to him in that interview and how these members would feel hearing him say that about homosexuality.

One thing about BTS, if they be making loud openly 'woke' statements, take a shovel to their past- it's usually because they've messed up somewhere and are simply acting conscious of the things they say that can come across as problematic. In my opinion.

They do learn and grow from their mistakes. That's one thing I love about BTS.

They've all had their problematic moments as I keep saying.

To me, this interview moment would be one of such said problematic moments if not one very homophobic moment of Suga's- if the translations were right I mean. chileee. Lemme shut up. Lol.

And before anyone says but JK said the same thing too...

JK had a 'fear' of coming across as Gay in his early years. Part of the reason he wanted JM on the west of his east when the cameras came around- in my opinion.

He'd stutter when similar 'gay' questions were thrown his way- prompting Jimin to ask him straight away not to answer said question when an interviewer asked him.

You pair that with some of the members describing him as 'wanting to be manly' or appear like a manly man and it's not hard to figure out what was going on with him.

He'd pause and look at JM funny when JM would describe their relationship as in between friends and romance...

Jimin had to tell him to relax and that it was normal for men to say 'love' to men without it being weird or gay.

He knew gayism was a thing. He simply didn't want to be viewed as one- either because of his own repressed homosexual desires, in which case that would be internalized homophobia or he really really didn't like being thought of as gay- homophobia.

Suga's is different.

He either genuinely didn't know gay was a thing or that some men's heart actually beat for other men- seems to me he thought the idea of a man's heart skipping for another man absurd or impossible- or dude thought he was being a smart pants with that remark. Lol.

Baring his age in mind at the time of the interview, that in anyway reflects his ideals or assumptions about sexuality. That heterosexuality is D norm. That straight is all he can be or should be thought of as- He clearly hasn't read the blogs. He's in for a rude awakening.

If JK had this ideology about sexuality I think he would have been able to hide his sexuality better and not freak out each time people made jokes about it💀

Suga's said explicitly he is attracted to gal's who wear headphones, doesn't like gals who play hard to get- said he'd kick em if they didn't quit playing hard to get (misogynistic and abusive lyrics there but it's hiphop- let's not talk about that) finds it ridiculous that men should wear female clothes, thinks 'men' shouldn't cry.... all the making of a fine gay man😃

Should we chalk it up to internalized homophobia then??

I wouldn't.

A very dedicated Sope shipper will tell you, he said what he said to cover the fact he is gay so there's that. Lol.

I'm just not convinced Suga is part of the community but I think he is open minded now, leans less into his conservative values and more towards progressive values and thoughts.

I don't think he in any way shape or form 'influenced' Jikook to be gay or to do the gay if that's what you were asking.

But I do respect your opinion on Suga. I think we are all free to assume whatever we want in this case.

I might be wrong about him. You might be wrong about him or we could all be right. We will never know.

Thanks for the ask.

Wasn't comfortable answering it though. Lol.

I don't like when I have to watch what I say.

Sigh.

Signed,

GOLDY

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justreadingfics · 5 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Prologue)

Series Summary: You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings (for the entire series): +18 only, smut, casual sex, Bucky is a whore, boytoy!Bucky and proud, acquaintances to fuck buddies to maybe lovers, fluff, eventual angst, mention to past relationship, break-up.

A/N: I was going to write something for Looking for a Heartbeat universe, but this idea came up and I was so excited. This is me trying my hand at romantic comedy. It’ll be very smutty but there’ll be angst eventually because it’s me. This version of Bucky is different from everything I’ve written before, but I think this is one of the beauties of this character. He’s so nuanced and layered, there’s always a new version of him to be explored. I hope you guys like it and stick with me. I’m planning 10 chapters, but the number may change. The link to the my masterlist is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. @lesqui you’re a Rockstar.

When Natasha bursts into his apartment - like she’s done many many times before- holding up a big cup of coffee, the first thing that hits her is the smell lingering in the air, making her whole face scrunch up. The whole apartment stinks of a fucking orgy and she doesn’t even get to act surprised or outraged. This is what it’s been like. Ever since Bucky started to get better, changing from the brooding shadow that had first arrived to regaining his self-confidence, he’s been spending it and his whole package of super soldier stamina like that. A new night a new girl. Or two… she realizes when she spots the pair of different underwear over his couch as she makes her way to his bedroom. Three? She shoots an eyebrow high at the sight of a third one hanging around the doorknob.

She would die before touching the damn thing and, because she’s also always up for a little show, she decides to use one of her signature moves to make herself into his bedroom. A powerful kick to the door is enough to have the effect she wanted : three different tones of high-pitched screams and a low groan fills the room.

Natasha doesn’t need to say anything. Just her steady, impassive demeanor while still in her Black Widow uniform from the last mission is enough to make the trio of naked bodies move. They shoot themselves out of the bed and scramble to pick up pieces of clothes from the floor.

“Ugh, sorry, sweethearts.” Bucky’s voice is groggy with sleep and muffled by the pillow, “Thanks for last night, though, it was amazing.” He raises his thumb up but remains lying on his stomach, his very naked behind exposed, completely unphased by Natasha’s presence.

The girls rush past her without even daring to glance at the Avenger. Well, except for the owner of the underwear on the doorknob, who gives her much more than a glance in the shape of a shameless once over and a lustful wink before grabbing the piece of lacey and fleeing, putting it on along with her dress on her way.

With an exaggerated yawn, Bucky catches Natasha’s attention again and she steps into his room as he rolls over and sits on the mattress. At least he has the decency to pull a sheet to cover his front before he stretches his arm to the air letting out a second yawn, “What is it this time?” This is definitely not the first time a scenario like that has taken place, to Natasha’s exasperation.

“Crowded around here, huh?” Walking over to him with a judging brow up, she hands him the coffee, which he promptly accepts, “Do you even know their names?”

“Sofia, Olivia, and Amanda,” he answers simply before taking a sip from the coffee, “The one checking you out was Amanda, she’s nice, I think you’d like her, and you’ve seen them before here, just not the three of them together.” He smirks, raising a feigned innocent gaze from his cup to her.

Natasha chooses to ignore the answer in favor of letting a huff out, “We - and by we I mean Fury - missed you at the debriefing.” She glances around, trying to find a place she could sit without accidently making contact with any kind of… fluids. Spotting the armchair nearby, she shoots a questioning look at Bucky.

He presses his lips in a guilty fine line and shrugs, “I think you’re safe standing up.”

“You’re gross, you know that right?” She grimaces, crossing her arms in front of her. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? We got here around one am from the mission.”

He shakes his head dismissively, “You know I have my ways and I needed to shake the stress off. Too much energy to spend.”

“I can see that,” She laughs, “I mean…Three?

“You were there. It was a hard mission.” The corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he grins back at her.

“That it was,” she agrees, letting some air out in a puff, “And that’s why I’m here now. You weren’t picking your goddamn phone and Fury wants to debrief with you before he signs the reports.”

“Ugh,” Bucky rolls his eyes, blowing some steam out of his cup of coffee, “that guy... what a huge pain in the ass, right?”

Natasha catches the playful tone and shakes her head, holding back the smile, “You won’t make me bad talk him, you know that.”

She can’t keep the smile suppressed any longer when he lets his head fall back and laughs. Carefree and contagious. It took him a while to get there, but now? Laughters, giggles, and jokes are a part of who Bucky Barnes is. For that, she’s thankful.

“Alright, just give me a minute,” he concedes, bringing his coffee back to his lips.

Watching him, her face turns a bit more serious. “How long will you keep this up, huh?” she asks, bringing her hands to her hips.

With the back of his hand, he wipes a bit of coffee that slips from the corner of his mouth “What?” His forehead crinkles as his attention is focused on cleaning himself.

“This lifestyle of yours…” Natasha waves a hand around the room and over himself, “Don’t you ever want to… I don’t know… settle down for one woman or something like that?”

The confused expression that shifts Bucky’s face as he looks back at her is almost comical. “Why in the world would I do that?” He puts the cup of coffee on the nightstand, before standing up, wrapping the sheet around his waist. “This is so much fun, no strings attached… just good old exchange of fluids, enjoying one another’s bodies… and the next morning we’re off with our lives.” Ignoring the disapproval look on Natasha, he grins down at her, before passing by her to walk towards his closet.

“I know this might be a good deal for you, but what about the women you bring down here, is this fair with them?” Natasha insists.

“Ok, now listen,” Bucky turns back to her, pulling an underwear from the drawer, “All the girls I hook up with want the exact same thing I want, “ He leans down to put on the underwear under the sheet covering his lower half, before letting the white fabric pull down on the floor. “They’re here for the sex just as much as I am.” He turns back to the closet, fumbling with his clothes.

“Aren’t you going to take a shower?”

“Fury needs me asap.” He deadpans, before continuing while putting on his jeans, “Not once I took advantage of anyone, I guarantee you that. I´m not fooling them, they’re not fooling me. It’s a fair deal. Perfect to be honest, pleasant, I mean very pleasant to both sides…” He smirks before raising his gaze filled with mischief from where he’s buckling his belt to her, “You damn well know how good it- I can be…”

Her eyes roll at his smirk and she crosses her arms in front of her again. “That ship has sailed, Barnes.” It was just one time months ago and she knows she will never hear the end of it.

“Just saying…” Bucky shrugs, tying his hair back into a low bun, keeping the half smile on his lips, “Whenever you need to shake the stress off again, you can always count on me.” He winks.

“Yeah, right, go take a fucking shower and then we can talk.” Natasha grabs a pillow from his bed and throws at him. “Ok, I get it, I’m not an expert here and probably not the right person to be telling you this, but don’t you feel like you’re missing things? Or maybe that you’re hiding from something?” she suggests, walking past his bed to come closer to him.

“Nat, I swear… I’m not hiding from anything, there’s no hidden feelings or fears or anything like that… It’s just sex.” He states, sounding a bit more thoughtful with his friend’s worries , putting on a white t-shirt as she’s now just a few steps away from him. “People usually make a big deal about it, but that’s it. Sex is just sex. It’s fun and a fucking amazing experience to share with someone. And that’s it. Me and the women I spend time with are very sure about that. No worry.” As he finishes dressing himself up, he places both hands on Natasha’s shoulders.

She aims a deadly glare at where he touches her, “I honestly can’t decide if you’re a pig or a genius, but right now take your unwashed hands off of me.”

Bucky laughs, squeezing and shaking her shoulders halfheartedly, “I took a shower before I went to sleep, calm your damn titties.” He removes his hands anyway before placing a kiss on top of her head, gaining a hiss in exchange, “And a genius, of course.”

“All right,” Natasha says after glancing at her watch, “Nine. I still need a shower myself and at least a nap before Y/N drops by for lunch. You go see Fury now.” She commands, tapping his shoulder and already moving past him to the door.

“Oh, Y/n? From the tech department?” The peak of interest on his voice behind her doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha, “It’s been a while since I last saw her, how’s she? Still with that boyfriend of hers? What’s his name again?”

“Eddie. And no, they’ve broken up actually,” she answers, already opening the door to leave his apartment, “But don’t even think about it,” She warns, already sensing the smirk on his lips without even looking back at him, “She would never take one of your deals.” Natasha shuts the door before he could say anything else.

~~~

“Fuckbucket! Bumhole, son of motherfucker arseclowns! Goddamit nutsack!” The line of curses being spat out of your mouth is followed by you grabbing the bottle of tabasco and dropping almost half of its content over the plate of linguine in front of you.

Natasha says nothing, chewing her own pasta slowly as she stares you down, wondering how that combination of words could be the one to come up to your head when you wanted to swear. The small bistro is crowded and a few heads turn in your direction following your little – and kinda cute, if she’s going to be honest- outburst.

“Sorry…” Glancing around you seem to notice the brief but unwanted attention as your voice shrinks and your shoulders drop. “I asked for it fucking spicy, though,” you add in a mumble, only stressing the new curse, bringing a fork of linguine inside your mouth. You sigh, seeming finally pleased with the level of spice in it.

“Ok…” Nat drags the word as her eyes drop at the glass of wine in front of you. The second one already, “Bad day, I assume?”

A guttural and frustrated groan slips out of you as you swallow your food and take a long sip from the wine, “I’m just… ugh, everything sucks these days.” You place back the glass on the table a little more forcefully than it should be expected, your eyes following the move of your hand.

“Something at work?” Nat asks, “Do I need to talk to Tony?” She tilts her head, a hint of exasperation on her words.

“No, no. Of course not.” You wave a dismissive hand, “That lunatic is the best boss I could ever have asked for.” A quick but honest smile forms in your lips.

“Alright…” Natasha accepts, “Eddie, then?” She tries again.

“No… sort of. I don’t know.” You sigh, now playing with the food in your plate as your jaw tightens.

“Talk…” Natasha orders, putting down her fork beside her plate and brushing her hands together, swallowing the food in her mouth. “Have you been seeing him at work? It’s been a while since I last saw him in the Tower.” She leans her head on her joined hands as she rests her elbows over the table, giving you her full attention.

“He’s been promoted to a leadership position at SHIELD’s tech department, that’s why you haven’t seen him.” You respond, still playing with your food, “I haven’t seen him either, not ever since we broke up, but I guess splitting up is doing wonders for him.” You bite your cheek.

“How long has it been already, three months?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“You miss him.” Natasha affirms rather than asks, a sweet comprehensive tone on her words as she crosses her forearms over the table, leaning forward. You two haven’t had the time to properly talk about your breakup, given Nat’s mission schedules and your own job, which can be a pain in the ass when it comes to work-hours.

“Of course, I do,” you say, looking up to the ceiling and shaking your head before moving your gaze to her again, “It’s like… I never saw it coming. Almost ten years of relationship… when he said he needed to talk I thought he was going to propose.” You scoff, covering your face with both hands in pure disbelief in yourself, “But instead he said he wanted a new path for his life. What the hell does that mean?” You raise your voice along with your arms to each side of you.

“I hate to say this, dear.” Natasha grabs her glass of water and takes a sip before resuming, “But you know I’m not one to sugarcoat the truth and it probably means he’s fucking someone else…sorry.” She shrugs, knowing she could be sounding a little harsh, but she’s aware sometimes harshness is the right medicine.

“Well, at least someone is getting fucked,” you mutter under your breath, while rolling the pasta in your fork to shove it your mouth.

The slipped comment sets off Natasha curiosity instantly and she just eyes you for a second before urging, “Well, elaborate.”

“Ugh… Jesus.” You grunt before taking in a deep breath, “You know, I do miss him in my life, but God… what has been killing me right now is,” you lean forward, getting closer to Nat as she mimics you, “I’m so fucking horny.” You whisper as Natasha’s eyes grow round at your admission. You had never said anything like that to her before, you two are close friends but you’re always so reserved about your private life, “It’s been almost a year.”

“A year?” She whispers loudly, but lowers her voice as you quickly shush her, mortified someone would hear you two, “But…”

“Yeah, I know the break up was three months ago, but it doesn’t mean I was getting any before that,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice.

“Oh, honey…” Natasha tilts her head, trying to convey empathy towards you rather than judgement.

“I know, right?” You smile sadly, leaning backwards in your chair, “How was I even surprised when things went south? I don’t even know what happened, to be honest. We just… stopped.” You shrug a shoulder, grabbing your fork to play with it absentmindedly, staring down at it, “And I was ok with it. At least I think I was,” You look back at Nat, who’s just listening to you attentively, “I guess I thought at least I had everything else. I don’t know...” You shake your head in a sign of disapproval of yourself, “But after we broke up?” Once again you lean over to whisper, “That’s all I think about. Almost everyone I see ends up in a fantasy of mine. Things I never even dreamed about wanting… I eat a fucking strawberry and suddenly I’m turned on.” Your desperation is visible in your big, round eyes and audible in your rapid speech.

“Why don’t you go out, meet someone, then?” Natasha tries to hold back her laugh out of respect for you.

“Ugh,” you wave her off, glancing to the side with a grimace, “Too much work. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready for anything else.” You shake your head, “I just want to fuck.” You add in a grunt, shaking your legs in a very bratty way.

“Oh, wow,” Nat leans back to her seat, “I never saw this coming.”

“Can I tell you something?” You say, after studying Nat. When she nods and leans closer to you again, you continue, keeping your voice low, “Eddie was the only one I ever been with.”

Natasha chokes on nothing and quickly grabs her cup of water, gulping in down to the last drop, “How the hell did this happen?” she yelps.

“Well, back in highschool I wasn’t really ready, and then in college I met Eddie.” You shrug, curling your lips down, “We’ve been together ever since. But after he broke up with me, that was one of the first things on my mind, the thought repeating itself like a parrot in my head. That I had never been with another man.”

“Hell, sis,” Nat exhales, “I’m starting to understand your situation now.”

“Ugh, Nat, seriously, I just need someone to fuck me senseless.” You tighten your teeth and make a grabbing gesture with your hands, “Just some primal, animalistic sex, I need someone, anyone who can take me properly. No strings attached…Nothing else, I’m tired of everything else.” You shut your eyes, shaking your head, before looking around you. Satisfied no one is staring or listening, you once again bends closer to Nat across the table, “Even thought about hiring a goddamn escort, but I just bought the condo with Eddie, and, until we figure this out, I’m broke as fuck.”

Nat’s jaw drops. She’s speechless, utterly speechless. As you look back at her, a bit of shame but also expectancy gleaming in your eyes, a thought pops into Natasha’s mind. The universe must be playing with her, and that’s what she finally says to you. “Holy shit, the universe must be putting on a fucking joke on me.”

“Why?” You squint at her, “What do you mean?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. She ponders the thought for a moment. It might not be a bad idea, actually. Shaking some steam off, having a different and lighter experience with someone else, a little bit of fun… that might be exactly what you’re needing, and who could be more perfect for that? At least he’s someone Natasha trusts. She sure hopes so. “Are you serious about all of that? You’re really just looking for sex and nothing else?” Natasha checks.

“Dead serious.” It’s your straight up answer.

“Ok,” She decides, nodding once, “I may regret this sooner than I think but I might have the perfect guy for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky fluff #fluff #boytoy!bucky #future smut #it's a deal #justreadingfics #new bucky series

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gotmeringinghellsbells · 3 years

Text

Blue to Purple

Trigger Warning: Talk of suicide and depression.

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Characters: Sebastian/Jesse (Oc)

A/N: I’ve fallen into this game so hard. Before work, after work, all day on days off. This is a very addicting game.

Description: During another depression spell, Jesse confides his recent causes of stress in his husband who assures him everything is fine.

Sebastian looked over from the kitchen sink as he heard the door of the house open and close. He was a bit confused to see his husband home so early. Jesse generally would search for him to give him a kiss or hug, if not just a wave whenever he reentered the cottage; but something seemed off.

Behind the gothic farmer, a curious German Shepherd followed slowly before jumping on the bed after staring at it a moment. Putting the soapy sponge down, Sebastian washed his hands before looking to investigate what was happening. He made his way across the living room into the shared bedroom to see Yoshi laying on his side of the bed, being eaten slightly by a blanket monster.

The dog glanced at his new daddy before pressing his snoot back into his first daddy. "No, you stay," Jesse's voice groaned. Sebastian chuckled before walking around to his husband's side of the bed. "Alright, what's going on?" The emo gently rubbed the blanket covered back as he sipped his morning coffee. There was silence before a thumbs up snaked out from under the covers. This, in turn, freed their first son of the farm, as Yoshi ran across Jesse to greet Sebastian happily.

The smaller giggled before gently petting the dog and kissing his head. "Yosh, can you get down?" The dog cocked it's head. This was his bed. Why was he being asked to get down? Sebastian was a bit scared of the dog but respected Jesse's rules about the fur baby. What was Jess' was Yoshi's.

Sebastian sighed before patting his leg. "Come on." Jesse groaned as Yoshi jumped off of him and earned some praising pats. With the dog down, Sebastian moved to lay on top of the lump of seemingly depression. "One of those days," Sebastian asked softly as he gently rubbed the head part of the lump. Jesse shrugged before peeking out carefully as to not make him fall.

Jesse shrugged before moving a hand out to gently rub the face of his lover. They mad eyes contact. Sebastian's purple eyes widened a bit before falling slightly he noticed how bagged, blood shot, and puffy his husband's turquoise one's were. "Were you.... crying?" Jesse paused a moment before turning his head with a small frown. "I'm fine Sebby. Do what you gotta do today, okay? I just want to rest for a few hours."

Sebastian frowned before moving the hand off his cheek. He moved off the lump before setting the coffee on the night stand. "Keeping secrets," Sebastian asked with slight disappointment in his tone. "I'm just tired Seb. Night," Jesse sighed as he curled up in the messy blankets. The emo crossed his arms and nudged the lump of sadness. "You were crying," he accused. "Your eyes always get lighter and brighter when you cry. It's not just tired. What's wrong?"

Specific observation. Jesse shook his head. Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Jesse come on. I can't help if you can't tell me," he reasoned softly. "Hun, I'm aright," Jesse assured sweetly. He looked so tired. Had he been over working himself? Sebastian frowned. "Is there anything I can do while you rest," he asked. "Unless you know how to work the mayonnaise machines," Jesse sighed.

Sebastian frowned. He didn't. "The crops were harvested and watered via sprinklers. Animals petted and fed. Eggs collected and put in the mayonnaise machines, milk gathered and wool gathered. Yoshi's water bowl is filled and that's basically it." Sebastian frowned even more.

"Do you need help around the farm? I could take on some chores. " Jesse shook his head. "No, you work on your coding. I got it baby, promise." Sebastian wasn't convinced. "Are you stressed?" Jesse sighed. "Seb, please let me sleep." Sebastian felt a bit hurt by that and moved to walk around d to his side of the bed. He noticed a bare foot poking out of the blankets and swiped at it on his way over.

Jesse jerked his foot away with a squeak before peeking out from the covers as Sebastian giggled and finished coming around. That was a sign to put his foot back. "Don't, " Jesse pouted. Sebastian frowned again before sighing. Still in his pajamas, he crawled back into bed and scooted so his butt was against the other.

He wanted to be spooned.

Jesse sighed, guilt hitting him for his rather unnecessarily mean behavior. "Sorry," the farmer muttered as he moved up to do his duty. Sebastian shook his head as he took Jesse's arm and held it lovingly around him. "Nothing to apologize for." Jesse grunted in response as he moved to bury his face in the other's hair.

Sebastian made a bit of a face. "Jesse, please," Sebastian pushed. "I heard you muttering last night. What's going on?" The goth nuzzle closer before saying something into the dark locks. "Honey," he sighed, "you need to move out of my hair." "Just a nightmare. Don't worry about it." Sebastian gently kicked at his leg.

"Jesse," Sebastian huffed. The farmer was quiet a moment before sighing. "I keep having bad dreams. The mumbling in my sleep you've been commenting on is a result of stress dreaming." Sebastian huffed. "I knew it. Why don't you give me some chores around the farm? That would be less stressful, right?"

Jesse gently kissed the back of his husband's neck. "Your sweet. But that's not the source. Coming here from the city, from a stable 9 to 5 was a huge toll that I didn't realize until I got off the bus my first day. I left behind help, I left behind stability, and I was left to a sinking ship." Sebastian blinked. He had never heard this before. He heard about the financial struggles during the first two seasons of Jesse's first year in Pelican Town but nothing more in regards to his move.

Jesse started to play with the fingers that held his hand on the other's torso. "Sinking ship?" Jesse hummed in conformation. "Your mom never mentioned it to you? The cottage was old and quite.... well.... wasn't very well taken care of. The farm was over run by rocks, trees, and weeds galore. I was give some old tools and left with 500 gold to my name to make something of the place or risk poverty."

Sebastian was quiet. He didn't know about these things. They talked on a daily, even before dating and marriage. How hadn't he heard this before? "So I've been stressed about money. I have plans but then the resources don't play out and nature isn't always in my favor and things fall apart. But that's the farm g life. You take risks and gamble your income in hopes of a better income." Sebastian was quiet. He gently rolled over and snuggle into the other's chest.

"Why haven't you mentioned this before?" Jesse kissed his head lovingly. "I don't know, honestly. Guess me joking about how broke I was and just wallowing in my now worsened depression with you got me by it. Not like I can really get my meds up here." Sebastian pushed him a bit. "Harvey," he started, but was cut off. "He's very expensive. No, I will be fine."

The smaller pouted before sighing. He reached up to feel the long, black locks of hair. Jesse merely pouted before his eyes watered again. "I'm just scared to loose it all. After all, I bonded with each of those animals. They're like my kids. I couldn't think of having to sell them.

"Yoshi was a stray whodunit found lingering by my farm. I don't know if I could get him off the farm if I were to fail. If I had to move back with my mom, he'd be miserable. Cramped in a small apartment? Yeah right." He paused as he notice Sebastian look a bit confused. "I don't think I could force you into such instability like that Sebastian. I know you didn't feel you know.... at your parents but it would be better than being stuck with Yoshi and I as we fall back at my mom's place."

"No. I wouldn't be leaving you! What the hell Jesse?" He gently slapped at his boyfriend's arm. "What you come up here, then plan to ditch me if you can't stay?" Jesse frowned, he hadn't thought of it that way. "I'd find a job and help us back on our feet. Regardless of how cramped it is and full of people, as long as I'm with you I can handle the city. I can handle wherever we end up." He pressed his face in the built chest as he finished, hugging the other slightly.

Jesse felt tears well in his eyes. "Guess that brings us to issue three then. Finances, farm fears," he sighed. "I.... I feel like I ripped you away from your family." Sebastian froze. "Come again?" He didn't want to look up. "We new each other two seasons before I asked you out. Then we dated for like half of that fall, all of winter, and most of the following year's spring. Then I asked you to marry me.

"Just.... I was so in love with you. I could relate so much to you. Your just so sweet, dorky, nerdy, considerate, just.... your amazing and.... I feel like I rushed it with you. We've only known each other for a year and two season yet.... here we are. I just... I don't know. Between you, our farm, I just feel like I've.... just rushed everything for progress.

"I don't think I've done anything right." Sebastian felt his eyes water before he glanced up. "Are you.... questioning our marriage?" Years of just wallowing in self pity, depression, suicidal thoughts, never fitting in, never feeling like family to his family. This was really hitting hard. "Ah, no, no, no! Sebby no, I'm not.” Jesse panicked as he moved to wipe the tears away and gently kissed each, delicate eye lid. Sebastian blush a bit before being pulled into a tight, loving hug.

"You seem so happy now and I know you love it here. I'm just.... I feel I've messed up as a person is all. I'm so happy with this marriage and I know your in better health now. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worded it like that. Same with excluding you from moving worst case scenario. Just.... city and three room apartments with two tiny bathrooms.

"I just didn't want you to feel caged in." Sebastian frowned before nuzzling into the other. "I like to feel small. A cage is something that can be used to contain something, but also protects it from the outside world. It's a misrepresented safety." There was a moment of silence before Jesse kissed the purple hair sprouting off his chest.

"I love you. I'm sorry." Sebastian shook his head. "Your an idiot," he sighed before leaning up to steal a true kiss from the other's lips. Jesse kissed back softly before they separated with small smiles. "Are... you good? I mean I said a lot and," Sebastian cut him off. He poked his forehead. "Is the farm failing?" Jesse shook his head. "Are we financially burdened?" Another shake. "Do you love me?" A nod. "You understand we're together through thick and thin?" Jesse paused before nodding.

"I accepted your proposal. I accepted your initial confession of love. I reciprocated it. I was so excited when you proposed, to be with you on you, 'sinking ship’. I love you, don't just brush me off like that next time your thinking of future plans. It really hurts. But if there's anything you need help with, ask me. Even if it's going into town and applying for a job."

Jesse kissed his head again. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I didn't mean it like that. Your right." Sebastian sighed before nuzzling into the taller gently. "I love you, I really do." Sebastian sighed. "I know you do, your just dumb," he laughed as he hugged him tighter. He was trying to get the taller to drop the subject. Jesse soon found himself giggling as opposed to whimpering as a finger traced gently down his ribs.

"Shehebby," he squealed as he shifted slightly, still holding the other. "Yes," Sebastian asked as me moved his finger up and down the ribs, scratching now and then. Jesse squirmed, giggling all the while. "Oh gosh it tickles," he snorted out, wiggling his feet. "Ah, it tickle, it tickles!" He was curling and really starting to wiggle his feet as he giggled softly. His stomach filled with butterflies and his chest felt lighter. As he gained muscle, his body had become quite .ore sensitive. What would normally only slightly tickle was now really leaving lingering sensation down his side.

"I'm hardly doing anything," Sebastian teased as gently added another finger. Jesse squeaked, holding him closer as his legs failed about. "Nhahahao! Oh gosh! S-Sebby please! Hehehhe!" Sebastian felt his own face heat up from the reaction. He stopped momentarily to sit on the other's waist; this would then warn a large blush followed by a shy look. "What are you doing," Jesse asked softly as he wiggled his feet a bit in preparation.

Both knew if he really wanted to. He could over power the smaller; but both knee, he would never do that. "I think you need to relax huh? Too mush stress isn't good for you." He was smiling gently, eyes looking over the taller fondly. Jesse felt his heart explode with butterflies from the delicate gaze. "Maybe some.... physical therapy will help?" Sebastian paused before cringing with a snort. "Sorry, I'm not very good at these.... things. Just... too dumb and sappy. Just, I'm going to tickle you." Jesse squealed just from the word. "No, Sebby," he whined before really giggling as fingers gently traced his forming pecs.

"Yes, Sebby. You need to smile more~." Jesse giggled, gently holding the other's arms as a brace. "Oh man, that's really sensitive! Mmmm!" Black hair was strewn about the pillow case as Jesse pressed hard into it. Sebastian giggled, giggled. "I would hope," he replied happily before moving to scratch around the soft forming bumps. "Eek! Hahahahha! Mmmm! Pfff! hehehe!" Jesse was such a gentle giant with him. It made Sebastian's heart swirl as he watched this man who could easily apprehend him just take the gentle, playful torment.

He never used his strength to his advantage or slight height difference. He was always so caring and sweet to Sebastian. Maybe a bit secretive and forceful now and then but never anything bad. When Sebastian was depressed, Jesse would just reply "same" before inviting himself to join the other in bed and cuddle him with a "but your not dying today." He would randomly bring him Jesse and his favorite foods, he was just.... an overall sweet guy.

He was covered in tattoos Sebastian loved to trace and rehear the stories behind, piercings that he'd have to free Jesse from when they'd get stuck in something, and had many scars; each with their own story too. They were similar yet different. But Sebastian was in love.

"Ah! Not the armpit! Eek! Nahaho please!" Jesse started snorting and gasping as he laughed hysterically and rolled around. His husband merely rode the bucking bronco with a smile as he tried to get through clamped arms to the gold spot. "No? Not going to let me in? That's alright, your thighs seem more appealing." Jesse froze as he felt the hands leave him. No. Not the thighs!

He gently took Sebastian's hand and smiled with residual giggles slipping out. He looked so tired yet so happy. "Oh no you don't." He gently moved Sebastian down, now hovering over him. "I made you nearly cry today. What kind of a husband would I be if I didn't cheer you up?" Sebastian blushed before feeling his stomach now flip with butterflies. "No, that's alright," Sebastian giggled out. God the anticipation could be the worst part.

"No, no it isn't. I love you and I need to make this right. I see you smile everyday now, laugh at our animals antics. But the laughter is never long lived. Don't tell me our home is starting to bore you." Sebastian shook his head vigorously.

"Oh no, Jesse please!" Jesse merely snorted before kissing each eye lid softly. "And where was my mercy?" Sebastian squeaked, squirming around slightly now. Jesse knew all of his weak spots having tickled him many times before, this was going to be hell!

"Coochie, coochie, coo," Jesse whispered into Sebastian's ear as fingers started to move gently under the cloth covering his love's torso. Sebastian immediately burst into a giggling fit, unable to suppress his laughter when disgustingly cringe worthy things are whispered into his ear. "H-Hey! Ahahaha! I wen-honey! Hehe he! Too much!" Jesse giggled as he let up, switched to just tracing with a single finger.

Sebastian calmed down significantly, covering his face as a wide smile was forced upon his lips. His feet wiggled as his hips turned from side to side. "Aw, is my darling husband too sensitive for even one, little finger? Is he? Man you are adorable," Jesse squealed out the last part. Sebastian's face was bright red from the teasing, his body going into affection and attention overload.

"Coochie, coochie, coo~! Ah, tickle, tickle, tickle my adorable Sebby~!" Sebastian shrieked from the teasing as he treated from freedom. Jesse paused to lift the pajama shirt up more to repeat the pale torso in all it's glory. Sebastian peeked out through his fingers, eyes watering and face radiating heat from his blush. He merely whimpered from the new child before giggling softly as fingers moved up towards his underarms, before moving back down again.

"Honey," he squealed as he gently tried to catch the intruding hands. Jesse merely giggled before lifting and arm overhead, causing Sebastian to panic. "Wa- wait! No pinning! Honey please, not there!" Sebastian was shyly trying to hide himself away as his husband slowly released his grip. "Really? Because last I knew, you pinned me by sitting on me, and didn't complain when I did the same," Jesse teased as he gently traced the underarm.

Sebastian shrieked before kicking his legs and shaking his head while covering his mouth. "T-This is unfair," he snorted out. "Oh? But I let go of your arm, pumpkin. There shouldn't be any issues now." Pumpkin? Rare as it was it made Sebastian melt. "Your killing me," he whined between giggles in response. "With love," Jesse reminded before slowly taking his arm back and re lowering the arm that was gripping the head boards to keep from closing. After a few moments of recovering, Sebastian noticed the lack of after care..... which meant.... oh no.

He dared to peek up, blushing more as he saw the other looking at him with such loving eyes. God they were both so gross and sappy since marriage. "Honey, what are you doing," Sebastian giggle out nervously. Jesse said nothing, just moved down a bit to sit on Sebastian's thighs. Wait.... why would he- no!

"Ah darling no!" Sebastian shrieked as he launched up to stop the other. Not the knees, please, not the knees, he giggled as he held Jesse's hands. "I... I can't! It's too ticklish!" The taller blushed before giggling a bit. "All the more reason to just gently trace it," was Jesse's reply. "Or fetch that duck feather out of the sell bin and just gently flick it here and there under your sensitive knees. Just dusting, crease cutting, feathering~?" Sebastian was as red as a tomato as he resisted the urge to cover his face. Once he let go. He knew it was game over.

"Or maybe.... we could play that game again? I know how much to enjoy thus~. I could just gently strike at your soles and toes while we play DnD again? A stock punishment? The feather u got today would really have you giggling." Nope, he couldn't do this. "Don't talk about it like that," Sebastian whimpered.

"Why? I like it too. It's relaxing, it's fun, it feels nice." That was really the only bonding he had with his mom that he could remember though. Demetrius never really bothered with him aside from telling him what to do and he was jealous of Maru so that only left his mom. She would tickle him to tears as a boy and young teen.

"Yeah but, you make it sound perverted," Sebastian huffed. "Oh, my bad," Jesse replied as he gently slipped his hand away. "Huh? Wait no! Jesse," Sebastian argued before freezing as a small squeeze was delivered to the under side of his knee. Oh no.

He glanced nervously at the other who smiled lovingly and did it again. A squeak. Sebastian was holding himself now, shaking his head. "Truce," he asked shyly. Jesse paused before sighing and giving a nod. If the other really didn't want to be tickled to death. He wouldn't force him.... at the moment. He moved to hold the smaller who quickly leaned into him. The flustered man quickly gave into the hold and went back to hiding his face in his husband. "Your so mean," he sighed as he started to calm down.

"Rude! I am not," Jesse replied as he gently tickled Sebastian's back. The giggles started up again as Sebastian fell into the other's chest. "Jess, stop it," he squealed. Jesse did before giggling himself and gently kissing his lover's head. "You know what sounds really good?" Sebastian peeked up from his chest like a kitten. "Hm?" "A power nap." Sebastian smiled before nuzzling in close to be held closer. "I love you," he hummed. "I love you too, Sebby."

#stardew valley #stardew valley tickle #sebastian #farmer oc #tickling #ticklish #tickle fight #domestic fluff

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Note

You're asked to choose one and only one or DC's future stops existing immediately. your choices:

1. Jason Todd the anti-hero who seldom works with only a couple of the bats he doesn't hate, for example Dick and Cass VS. Jason Todd who came back with healed body but broken spirit, folded back into the Gotham gang and learns to be part of the society again.

2. Tim Drake who makes all of his mistakes as canon but realizes he's been wrong and apologizes to people VS. Tim Drake back in his first iteration, a cute little brother character who is a reader insert and a fun teenager.

3. JayKyle VS DickKyle.

4. Jason Todd with a sword VS. Damian Wayne with a sword.

5. Chris Kent VS. Jon kent.

Okay but which DC future? Its omniversal future? Its hypertime future? Its multiversal future? Its Elseworlds future? Its dark multiverse future? Mwahahaha your threat is useless because the sheer wtf of DC's continuities, timelines and conflicting declarations of what to even call their multiomnihyperverse makes it impossible to target simply A future! DC's overly unnecessarily complicated nature renders it functionally immortal and impossible to ever truly destroy, take that Darkseid.

I mean. But anyway. Whatevs:

1) I honestly do prefer the idea of Jason someday fully reuniting/reintigrating into the Batfam as a whole, because fuck it, the found family I'm here for is the one where they actually act like a family....I just think it takes actual work to get to that point and I get irey when people are like we're here! We found it! And its like meanwhile, abusive dynamics still abound. Mmm. No thank you. But even though I've been on a huge Jason and Dick and Cass kick for like, forever, I do still aim for him having a dynamic of his own with the rest of the family.

Like the thing is, I hate playing the favorites card in families, and I think the emphasis on so and so being Bruce's favorite child or so and so being this kid's favorite sibling, etc, like it really does feel like to the detriment of the whole family, because once you start validating the idea of favorites, ESPECIALLY in a found family that is CONTINUOUSLY growing....I think you're kinda shooting yourself in the foot because you're kinda creating a situation where either no future new additions to the family can EVER be Bruce or one of the kids' 'favorite' or else you're innately positing that said fave status is conditional and even a current fave of Bruce or a sibling can be bumped down the ladder by the addition of a later arrival....

Which is LITERALLY the entire essence of the eternal conflict between Dick and Damian and Tim fans. Its not even that Damian is Dick's favorite, allegedly, its that prior to Damian's very EXISTENCE, fans felt comfortable declaring Tim unilaterally to be Dick's 'favorite'.....and then all it took was the addition of a single family member who had specific NEEDS in regards to Dick's attention and focus, largely because of his age and needing a legal guardian while Tim was old enough to literally jet set around the world on his own.....and like, everything went up in flames in large corners of fandom.

So I'm just like, death to the fave family member myth, its just incredibly counter productive to the idea of found family as a whole especially when it usually only exists to prop up a preferred character as better than others via the proof of see, these other characters say he's their fave or whatever...but also like, its not even necessary?

Because the thing is, you can have Jason reintegrated into the whole family overall, and still prioritize your personal narrative FOCUS on characters you like more than others, like say Dick and Cass.....because of course its natural for even people in the same family to have entirely different DYNAMICS with different family members....and these dynamics don't have to come with a ranking system in order to prioritize which ones you just focus on more in a story. Because its not necessarily that Dick has to be Jason's fave brother, y'know, just for Jason to prefer spending time with Dick simply because he's more comfortable with him due to knowing him longer or being more secure in the idea that Dick doesn't judge him based on their greater shared history.

This doesn't mean that Jason doesn't care for his other siblings, that he can't have strong dynamics with them as well, its just about finding a reason for why these two specifically might be in a story without the others that doesn't demand putting a definitive ranking on which one Jason considers his FAVE. Just like Damian doesn't have to be Dick's FAVE just for them to have the super close canon relationship they have, even relative to the other siblings, because there's everything needed in canon already to establish that the mere fact of Dick essentially RAISING Damian for a year, and being the first one in the family to really take a chance on Damian, like, this lends itself naturally to them maybe more naturally gravitating towards each other than other siblings due to comfort level and familiarity, etc, but it doesn't have to be like....oh but yeah, I just like Damian more than you, Tim, y'know?

So my answer on this one is a total cop out of both, both is good. Jason totally reintegrated back into the family, but with dynamics that still lend themselves fairly easily towards story lineups where its just him running missions with Dick or Duke or any other one or two specific family members even if for no other reason than they gel together best in the field, y'know?

2) Hmm. I honestly really do love and miss 90s Tim Drake and just....don't see him in a lot of what I read these days. I'm like no, why did he have to go, he was doing so well! BUT I'm also on a big accountability kick, and like, I'm so steeped in fics where Dick GROVELS for forgiveness for every little slight he's ever done real or imagined, with every character but Tim in particular, so its like.....I'm not gonna lie, I really have a preference these days for seeing stuff where its literally anyone actually owning up to shit they've done to Dick and apologizing or groveling or making it to HIM, like, completely unconditionally. In the same manner we usually see Dick apologizing, glossing over any reasons he might have had for doing what he did or feeling the way he did, and saying oh it doesn't matter, putting the entirety of his focus on what HE did and why it was wrong no matter what and he's sorry.....that's what I would kill to see from more fics, just in reverse.

Because so often even in the all too rare fics where we DO see other characters apologizing to Dick for shit, its watered down with Dick volunteering that oh he messed up too, it was a two way street, and its like no! This is Pettiness Hours! I want the unconditional apologies! Give me the groveling! From anyone, I don't care at this point, lol, just show me characters actually PUTTING IN THE WORK to make it up to Dick for harm they've caused him, even if completely unintentionally or via neglecting his feelings or considering the repercussions their actions or words would have on him. Aaaaaaand, frankly, Tim's a good place to start there, because of how one sided all the takes on their conflicts have been for so many years. I mean, if people need a place to start, Batman and Robin Eternal gets enough praise it can't be pretended that people in fandom don't know that story exists, so how about some stories where Tim says he's fucking sorry for punching Dick in issue #4 or #5 of that one, and it was uncalled for and he was clearly just looking for an excuse to unleash some more of his resentment and upset for the Spyral/Forever Evil stuff, and family deciding that its totally okay to punch Dick whenever they're mad at him and need to work off some aggression so they can then finally forgive him (for now) is a trend that needs to die in a fire post-haste? I mean just as an example.

But the thing that kills me about fanfic trends is like....the sameness of so much of it. There's SO much room for variety and diverse takes, and like....I don't actually hate Tim! I'm just cranky because of the imbalanced nature of most content out there for literal years at this point. Push the pendulum BACK in the other direction, create some balance by showing the flip side of things.....and that leaves a lot more room for me and others of like minds to then be more amenable to - and even interested in - other stories that don't scratch this particular itch, but don't need to, because other stories are doing the scratching by then, y'know?

And THEN like, at that point, I would be ALL FOR more stories that are just callbacks to classic 90s Tim who I adore, with his skateboarding and his EARNESTNESS and his go-get-em spirit and also the gumption. All the gumption. I like that Tim. I do miss that Tim. But like, for the moment, like, I want accountable Tim because I am tiiiiiiiired of groveling Dick and tbh at this point its not enough for me to just see people move past putting Dick in that position and just have mutually respective and doting brothers Dick and Tim having adventures together......nah, first I want some reciprocation. Ngl. Gimme the apologies for actual mistakes actually made.

3) DickKyle. Easy question, c'mon, you gotta know that. LOL. ;)

But yeah, I've been shipping these two off their like, two shared pages from way back in the Obsidian Age story years before Jason even returned, let alone was in Countdown together with Kyle, so like, its no contest. I don't mind JayKyle, I certainly prefer it to JayRoy tbh, but there's not a ton of appeal in it for me, particularly in how its usually depicted, because like....the entire basis of JayKyle is that they DO have stories together and spent a whole year worth of weekly issues traveling the multiverse together in Countdown.....but there's like, practically no trace of their actual dynamics from that series or any specifics of literally any issue from that entire comic in most fics I’ve read, so its like.....idk, it tends to come across as more generic, not in the sense that it cant still be interesting, but more in the sense that it feels like just someone paired with Jason just because history between them EXISTS without any interest in exploring what that history actually IS....and at that point, its like, well there's no reason TO prioritize that ship over DickKyle for me personally, when like, I have a shit ton of headcanon reasons for why those two in a pairing specifically. *Shrugs* My logic. Its not for everyone, but it works for me.

4) Jason with a sword or Damian with a sword? I don't understand the question. Both. Both is good. All the characters should have swords. Swords are awesome.

5) Chris Kent vs Jon Kent - oof. I adore Jon, I really do. I love his dynamic with Damian, I love a lot of their specific stories, the parallels between them as friends and Bruce and Clark as friends....its all very bien. But I gotta give this one to Chris, because I'm always gonna have a soft spot for him because I'm a sucker for all abused kid heroes, and I just miss that funky little dude so much. There's so many stories we didn't get with him and were just ripe for the picking, but nooooo, DC's like lol you can't have nice things, here we just rebooted the entire multiverse and now Clark and Lois never adopted the son of Clark's worst Kryptonian rival and raised him with tender love and care awww does that make you sad, were you invested in him, WELL TOO BAD, HE'S GONE NOW AND BASICALLY NEVER EXISTED, NOW GIVE US YOUR MONEY ANYWAY MWAHAHAHAHAH.

Yeah. I'm still not over that. Probably will never be tbh, so I with great grudge-bearing do affirm that I'm gonna go with Chris on this one and like, he is a Priority for me and I'm still very keen on the idea of him and Duke being besties for random reasons that might not make sense to anyone but me, but eh, whatever.

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stars-trash-18 · 4 years

Text

Adventures of Mando and his emotional GF

I’m so sorry for everything being posted as late as it is but depression is a bitch and I managed to kick her out long enough to write this. I’m surprised I got as many notes as I have been on this story but I forget we go feral for men in masks who are absolute units.

I everything spaced the way it is because my eyes can’t read large paragraphs close together, it bleeds together, so sorry if it’s annoying and maybe a little wrong in writing terms, also I hid a reference in this chapter-

Mando hired you for the sole purpose of keeping his antique flying, yet here you are sitting in the co-pilot’s seat rewiring the nav system while the child is in a crawl space doing your job of trying to get the control panel working. , “Mando tell me again why you put a literal toddler into the wall to do a job you pay me to do, correction did pay me to do,” you stated, using the space tape to keep a lever from going in the wrong direction.

Mando gumbled something before trying the panel again, “because he’s the only one small enough to fit, he has less of a chance of getting stuck and causing more problems,” he seethed. You knew he was more angry at the beeping panel than you, but you still glared at him for the tone he took with you. Before you could say anything he left the seat and went to check the child. “Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes on the board, don’t let them touch their opposite charges and will electrocute you,”. Was this man seriously explaining electrical engineering to a toddler, a toddler you didn’t know if he was color-blind or not?

“Mando my dear I don’t think the child knows his colors yet much less basic electrical engineering, now stop acting like my dad trying to teach me and let the person with an actual degree do it,” as soon as the words left your mouth you heard the tell tale sound of somebody being slightly electrocuted and smoke puffing out. Without even thinking you jumped out of your seat and shoved the tin can away to pull the child towards you in a motherly embrace, cradling him into your chest as you rocked him slightly. More for your sake than his since he was giggling. Mando just stared at you, you thought because you were crazy, but really because he had never loved you more than in that moment.

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Mando set course for Nevarro while you prepared what was left of the broth, when Mando finally came down you turned your back to him so he could eat, he started to take his helmet off just enough to let his mouth stick out so long as you sat back to back during meals. You loved that you finally trusted each other enough to eat your meals together instead of in separate rooms like you used to. Even though you tried to get him to use a straw but he was a stubborn mudhorn, much like the signet on his shoulder and around your neck.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Mando, “Cyar’ika why do you never call me Din, you know it’s my birth name but you still call me mando?” he asked quietly, you almost missed it. The question startled you at first but it made you soften realising he sounded a little insecure, you entwined your fingers in his before answering.

“Your true name was revealed against your wish, the man who destroyed your people revealed it without your consent, so I don’t say it since you never gave me consent to say it, because where i’m from we have a public name and a true name, the true name is only revealed to partners and family and that requires consent,” you paused to take a breath, his hand squeezed your tightly as encouragement, “so until you give me consent to use your true name i’ll call you by your nickname,” you finished.

The silence between you two was thick and heavy but a chuckle sliced through it like a hot blade, “Cyar’ika I had no idea but you had permission to use it the moment the I gave you that signet necklace, in Mandalorian culture the signet is a sort of family crest, so we’re technically family.” He explained, nervousness tingling near the end at the mention of family. It took a minute for it to dawn on you that in a sense you were married.

“Din Djarin did we get married without my knowledge!” you shrieked, shocking both of you with the use of his full name rolling off your tongue. To Din it was music to his ears, but to you it was so much more. On your home planet, from what you remembered from your short 14 years there, saying somebody's true name for the first time was often in a loving manner, not to scold like you just did, and was a moment of great emotion for both parties. But Mando, Din you had to mentally correct yourself, just turned around and hugged you with his melodic laugh ringing in your ears.

“No cyar’ika we did not, I would have made sure you knew and proposed, Aliit ori’shya tal’din, family is more than blood so we aren’t married but you are my clan,” he explained resting his chin on your shoulder. “You mentioned earlier your father, would you mind telling me about him?” he asked patiently, giving you the option to close him out. Din had told you about his parents once and it moved you to tears, you had wanted to talk about your parents but you never thought of a good time.

You took a deep breathe before starting, “ my father was a flight engineer and my mother was a diplomat, they met on one of her diplomatic trips to Naboo and had me before the clone wars,” you gripped onto Din’s hand before continuing, “I only knew my parents for a few short years before my mother died during the Siege of Mandalore when her ship was mistaken for a Republican transporter, and my father died shortly after I turned twelve and a ship’s engine blew,” you muttered, as you had spoken Din pulled you into a tighter embrace, placing the child into your lap so you could stroke his ears.

“From what I remember my mother taught me various things of diplomacy like how to blend in or stand out, to notice weaknesses or strengths, and how to negotiate deals,” you laughed remembering one of her anecdotes she’d say in her haughty voice, “everything is negotiable nova, if they say it isn’t then they want something you have, she’d always tell me during these lessons,” you remarked before continuing, “my father was who I spent more time with, we’d always run off into my mother’s ship and take everything apart so I could put it back together, our hands n faces covered in grease and our hair always frizzy from the many times I electrocuted myself or going to the junk yard so I could learn how to repurpose parts from one ship to another.” you began to tear up remembering your parents and how they taught you how to survive in their own ways,how your mother always fretted over your clothing whenever a festival happened in town, your father cooking enough to feed an army so your mother would have a taste of home on her work trips, and how they always called you their little supernova.

Before Din could say anything the alert that you had arrived at Nevarro went off, making you both jump up to prepare for landing, already knowing you’d have to strap yourselves down for the rough landing.

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When you both touched down and were greeted by Cara and Greef, who promptly took the child from your arms like a grandfather would, You reluctantly let other engineers go near the ship, a weird feeling settling in your stomach but dissipating when Din took your hand. The man never showed PDA until recently, and you weren’t complaining the least bit being as touch-starved as you were, and promptly made your way into town.

“Mando what the hell happened to your ship,” Cara asked once they were out of the child’s earshot, said child’s eyes caught something in the market and Greef excitedly showed him the stall, you giggled at the question hearing Mando give his signature sigh.

“Had a run in with the Republic,” he answered briskly, causing you to hit his arm before turning to Cara.

“More like Mando wouldn’t stop getting holes blown in the ship, then when we thought it couldn’t get worse he sunk us in a harbor where I threatened to let haunt him if I died,” you stated matter of factly, before continuing on with your tour of the town. You prayed it was going to be a relaxing trip, but you would find out in 10 minutes that it was anything but and that you were about to regret your choice of going to college for engineering.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #x reader #star wars x reader #din being a dad #emotional #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #baby yoda

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