#(so thats what the part with everything filling w water was about)

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (pt.68)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.

Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,

W/c: 13.4k

A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! there is a little section near the end where the chapter will prompt you to click on a link to play kate bush 😂 if you feel like you'll be distracted by music in the background you don't need to push it- thats just the song that i always heard playing in my head whenever i heard that part playing.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Hobi is sitting on the edge of the nest sipping at his ice water when you come back into the nest room. Someone has drawn all of the heavy curtains over the windows and they pool on the floor at the rim of the room. The plastic pulled up too. The evidence folded and put away for later burning. Like a bad memory or a piece of clothing that doesn't fit right. Shoved in the back of the closet.

The rage and fear and panic are harder to put away. The conviction is not so easy to hide. You can’t put it down the same way that people file their taxes or their children's old scribbles.

You- like a child, have not been able to color between the lines. You- like a child, are messy.

You can’t stop yourself from walking over to him. Drawn to him where he sits nursing his injuries like a moth to a flame. You feel every heartbeat spent in his presence; every breath shared sticky like smoke in your lungs. Every second is savored and every second burns.

You want to ask him if he’s alright, but questions like that seem very pointless now.

Hobi’s not alright- but he will be. He will be okay forever if you do what you have to do. Now that you’ve decided it’s all you can think about. You rarely ever get to know that your last day with someone will be your last day, and now because you know- you look at him a little harder. A little longer.

You wonder what he’ll look like in 10 years and in 20. If he’ll get crow’s feet from smiling so much. If the salt water he loves so much will eventually grow into his features and make him look like something ancient.

You wonder if one day he'll get so many freckles that the tops of his shoulders will be permanently a shade deeper than the rest of his skin- Or if Seokjin’s sunscreen will spare him from the simple pleasure of looking like your favorite thing. Hoseok has always been one part sunshine one part everything else.

He looks pale right now. It hasn't been summer in months and you won't get to see him get all freckly and sun-kissed again.

Growing old is a privilege (you don’t want to grow old) and you’re reminded of that every time you look at his throat and see the bruises there (you wish you and Hobi could stay as you are- like this, in this house- both alive and healing- forever) but you can’t.

You can’t.

You touch his shoulder softly and his head jerks up, body going tense and then slack when he sees it's just you.

It’s quiet up here. The others are just downstairs and they’re making a lot of noise. Hoseok turns, setting his glass of water down on the floor, leaning into your hand in the same movement. It would be cute if he didn’t have black bruises crisscrossing his throat and blood in the whites of his eyes. In truth, every blink only convinces you that this is what you have to do. This is what you need to do.

You know that at any moment the pack is going to come looking for you. That they’ll all come and fill the room with their soothing noises and sweet concern. You're not too worried about finding the right time to slip away. Moonbyul’s given you 24 hours after all.

We didn’t get enough time, did we? I’d have liked more.

Hobi tries to speak and you shush him, he makes a frustrated hum of a noise. You sit down next to him when he tugs you, hand vicelike on your wrist. Your heart is beating really fast. You wonder if he can hear it or at least smell your distress. The whole house is a tangle of distressed scents; your rain, Yoongi’s ocean, Hoseok’s burnt caramel. burning burning burning. It disguises your scent. Hoseok can’t smell how you’re panicking.

You smile at him, and Hobi tries to speak again. unsuccessfully.

“Here your phone-” but Hoseok doesn’t reach for it, he doesn’t reach for anything but you. Pulling you closer to him. His thumb pressed to the pulse point of your wrist, where your skin becomes thin and sensitive. Pulling you until your thigh lines up against his.

The nest up here is the only place in the house that smells somewhat normal, still soaked with your sleepy muted scents from a few days ago (How long will it be until your scent fades from the house?) You take a deep shaky breath, trying to savor it. Hoseok bites his lower lip.

Hoseok starts on your thigh. His hand squeezes it once and then he starts to write. It’s slow going. He can only write one letter at a time but-

“D-O-N-T”

His eyes are positively boring into yours as your breath hitches and you start. “Hobi I-” he repeats it again, writing it out faster. You grab his hand squeezing it. But he pulls it out of your grasp.

“N-O”

You huff, frustrated and close to tears but stealing yourself not to show him your true feelings. How hard this is. You duck in low, kissing over one of the bruises on his neck. He jerks back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. And part of you is just begging him to let it go. You’re half sitting in his lap now all so that he can write out his distress on both your thighs.

“Alright- just stop.” You can hear the rest of the pack on the stairs. It’s getting late, they’ve done all of the cleaning they can manage for today. You can hear Yoongi on the stairway talking to Jin:

“Maybe we should just burn the railing, there’s definitely a bullet or two in it still.”

Jin’s reply is near hissed, utterly scandalized in the way that only Jin can sound. “It is mahogany Yoongi.”

Hobi writes on your thigh, a single tear trailing down his nose. He’s usually a little bit better at keeping himself together but the stress of the day wore him through. Polished all of his usually stubborn edges like the ocean polishes sea glass. He’s too tired to properly argue. Letter by letter as he goes.

“P-R-O-M-I-S-E M-E,” he writes across your thigh.

You have maybe a second before they’re upon you. You have to be convincing. Have to, or else Hobi might tell. You don’t think he’ll get in your way. You don’t want to think about what you’ll have to do if he does.

You dart forward, pressing your lips to his in a way that you don’t really feel, in a way that has him pushing you a little off of him. Trying to reassure him in the only way you know how.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying and he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. His fingertips skimming soft across your jaw and your lips. Pressing at the corner of your sad smile like he can peel the fake expression away from your face and have you tell the truth for once.

“I promise, okay? I promise.”

Hoseok is not convinced. He doesn’t believe you all the way. But the pack is up here before he has a chance to write out anything more. Yoongi appears in the doorway, smelling of soap and bleach, a bit of it turning the corner of his shirt yellow where it should be black. His eyes cautious but so loving it takes your breath away a little. He treads softly over to the two of you; like he's worried about spooking you.

The moment between you and Hobi passes when Yoongi's hand curls over the back of your neck and you tilt your face up at him. And he interprets the glassiness there as something else. something more sensitive and more like omegaspace than what it is. you falling through space and time, you dying and drowning infront of him.

He probably thinks Hoseok was just comforting you.

Yoongi’s hand settles softly on the ball of Hoseok’s shoulder too. an equally as tender touch. Long fingers splaying against his collar bones, cradling a bruise there forming. Asking softly, eyes all dark with the anguish and apology of it-

“Do you think either of you can stomach dinner?”

As always, you say you can hot because you want to, but because you know it will make him happy to see you eat. You might not get many more opportunities to make Yoongi happy- you should take this one and savor it.

Yoongi loses that vaguely wounded look in his eyes with every bite you lift to your mouth. His scent sublimating into something sweeter as the night darkens and quiets.

You can tell Hoseok is not convinced of your promises when he stays glued to your side through the whole of dinner. Almost stubborn with how he resists Yoongi’s prodding and Namjoon's. Changing out the cool dressings on his throat and shaking his head at Namjoon’s suggestion that he sleep propped up against the back wall of the nest, where it’s safest. Eyes tracking your movements as you get up and brush your teeth.

His focus remains solely on you, even when Jungkook carries Tae out of the bathroom and places her among the softest things in the nest. When Noodle squirms his way out from under the bed and tries to worm himself in between his legs. Nudging under his elbow with his pink nose.

He wraps himself around you as you get ready for bed. An arm slung protectively around your waist to pull you flush against his front where you couldn’t squirm away without him feeling it and waking up.

It feels like buying time even though you're too distracted to properly enjoy it- the way they try to cheer you up. Everything that they do to try and make things better feels far away like a photograph- a memory just out of reach- the colors a little off.

Jungkook needily wraps himself around Tae and croons soft reassurance into her ear about how pretty her hair looks, how soft her pajamas make her. And would she like some of her skincare routine? Jungkook will do it for her, will pat it across her cheeks, and won't drag it under her eyes to preserve the state of her wrinkles.

Tae answers all his requests with a simple shake of her head. Eyes still frighteningly blank, that 1000-yard stare that you've all seen on your faces at one point or another, that you see in the reflective surface of Namjoon's phone in the nest, discarded and not charged.

Tae's scent is something awful- none of her usual roses and all cinnamon. Does Tae smell more like her old self because that version of her was always afraid? Or was being a boy the first thing she hated and that's why she smells like boy tae now?

You hate it. You can tell the others hate it too. Yoongi drags her close to scent her silly. cheek and neck going all pink from how hard he scents her, and then scents you, and then goes back again.

Jungkook can do little more than cuddle Tae with Jimin, his big hands smooth down her thighs, while Jimin brushes her hair gently- careful not to let the bristles brush her scalp. He's learned how to take care of her over the last few months and he's the gentlest when it comes to detangling. Not like you- who's so used to ripping through your hair without thought.

Up and down their hands go as Jin fluffs the nest around you all. Making the edges of it higher, and more protective of the fragile pups at the center (like fluffy duvets could ever block bullets. In his dreams- Jin’s love is enough to keep you all safe).

Yoongi and Namjoon are only too happy to oblige him with the nest-making and the general fussing. But in between Jin’s request for a hairdryer and another cold cloth for your hands. You catch them watching the door like they half expect some new threat to appear.

Certain things are harder to ignore; like Yoongi sitting on the edge of the nest with a gun balanced across his thigh. Or the heavy thud of a fresh box of bullets, rattling in their acrylic case when Jimin sets them down on the floor. The red shotgun casings lined up in pretty lines- just like Tae’s lipsticks downstairs.

You ask for one of Hobi's sweatshirts and Yoongi puts the gun away to go and give it to you. Hoseok fingers the edge of your shirt stroking over the meat of your hip idly. But every inch of him is taught like he’s going to have to grab you and hold you down. You lace your hand with his and turn to give him a look.

Yoongi’s back with a sweatshirt but it’s Jin who demands to dress you- to guide your fragile and freshly wrapped hands through the holes. Jin pulls it down around your hips with a soft huff before he gets distracted looking at the bruises on your back and side. From getting thrown back into the wall and from an errant elbow. Every time you twist even a little bit- they ache.

A tub of soothing cream that the pack usually uses for the more wanted kind of bruises sits open on the edge of the nest.

The pack moves about in pairs, here and there. Going down to the ground floor in sets of two. Unwilling to let anyone out of sight. There are guns everywhere, Jimin must have let loose his hidden stash of them. A shotgun leans up against the bathroom door. A handgun with an extended stock is always close at hand. There's a larger plan lingering here. You hear it in Jin's soft reassurances. Said hushed over your heads.

"Witness protection isn't as bad as you think it is Yoongi-"

"It won't work- don't you think we know how it works? That won't be safe enough."

"We have at least a few hours, we don't need to make any decisions now."

Jungkook’s scared voice, “Are we really going to have the leave? The house and everything?” A pause. A look is shared between Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Jimin's eyes remain focused on Tae.

“Maybe bunny, we have to wait and see.”

“Do we have a carrying case for Noodle?”

“I think it’s in…” Yoongi trails off, but Namjoon answers for him.

“Yeah, it’s in the basement.”

They set about keeping watch for the night. those of you that aren't nursing wounds that is- mainly Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon- Guns remain at the ready and loaded. Jimin will go first, Yoongi second, and Namjoon last.

Jin tries but Namjoon nudges at his chest and growls in a way that has all of your ears perking up. The pack alpha’s commands can’t easily be ignored. Jungkook tries too to convince them too but even Hoseok shakes his head at him. No one is under any illusions of how fragile this peace is.

No one asks Namjoon to leave the Christmas lights on- but he doesn’t shut them off all the way- leaving just one string lit as a bit of a nightlight. None of you are quite brave enough to risk the darkness.

Hoseok stays close by, his hand clutching your wrist more often than not. Even when the pack settles in for sleep. He wraps his arm around your waist and settles in behind you, caging you in.

(Hoseok’s arms are not the prettiest cage you’ve ever been in but they are the cage you’ve liked the most. You think you’ll miss his arms and his hands. They’re so pretty and long, you lean down and kiss one where it’s gripping the nest and he makes a small noise in surprise that quickly gets swallowed by the hungry quiet.)

The quiet is very hungry, every brush of fabric against skin, every slight movement of the pack sets you a bit on edge. You think it will be hard to sleep- wound up as you are.

You don’t think you're even tired until your head hits the pillow and you have to struggle to stay awake. You want to stay up and listen to the sound of your pack, their soft and measured breathing, the sound of kisses shared above your head, the feel and safety of being in the nest. You want to commit the rhythm of them to memory.

Hoseok’s soft rasping breath on the nape of your neck evens out the more that his swelling goes down. It goes from hissing to more of a squeak as the night settles. Tae shakes through her aforementioned panic attack with all of you piled around her. You get your hand on her ankle at least.

Yoongi and Jimin’s shushing is the only punctuating sound in the half-light. Because what can you say besides sweet nothings when you know she has a perfectly valid reason to fear falling asleep?

You savor every little twitch of their trauma-worn bodies as you flit in and out of an uneasy sleep. Every slight sigh and hand on you rousing you. Jungkook, brushing his fingers through your hair. Hobi, pressed along your back like a second skin shifting and trying to tilt his neck to a more comfortable angle.

You get too hot with Hobi wrapped around you like that, eventually tugging at his sweatshirt that you wear and almost purring when kind gentle hands help detangle you from it with a soothing little shush sound so that you hardly have to wake. Yoongi, around midnight.

Yoongi’s thin but strong fingers rub a soothing touch along your jaw. Soothing away a small sad noise you make that has him curling around your front. The sound of Namjoon's low voice as he says something to your mate and then takes his place at the helm of the nest to stand guard.

“It’s okay pup, I’m here- I’m not going to let anything happen to you- not now- not ever.”

It’s unfortunate, but Namjoon can’t let Tae sleep for more than half an hour before checking her pupillary responses, making sure that her brain isn’t swelling. Concussions are no joke and Namjoon does not take chances with his prettiest alpha. He sends her back off to dreamland with a comforting scent mark and a soothing grumble. After the 5th hour when the risks turn nominal, he decides to just let her sleep.

But Hoseok doesn’t sleep, he can’t really. The pain keeps him awake and what with the way that his neck is injured he can’t find a comfortable position. He shifts and settles the whole night. Keeping you close with that arm around your waist every time you squirm so much as an inch away.

He’s restless until Namjoon gets up to get one of Jimin’s painkillers.

He’s resistant even then, half asleep still fighting. Trying to move away and shaking his head at Namjoon. Namjoon mistakes his unwillingness for simple fussiness and not for fear. If Hobi falls asleep it will be substantially easier to slip away- you watch from below as Namjoon props hobi up and pinches his jaw to make him open his mouth, encouraging the alpha to show his tongue with a prod of those gentle hands. His eyes are barely open, exhausted as he is.

“I know it hurts to swallow Hobi but you’ve got too.” Regardless of his shaken head, Namjoon insistently nudges his mouth with it. Soothing his gag with a stroke of his thumb down Hoseok’s Addams apple. A kiss to his lips for being good.

“This will help the swelling go down, you’ll be okay by morning.”

It’s minutes before they take effect. Slowly- Hoseok’s arm melts away from your stomach. His grip on you slackens from the drugs and his breath evens out. You say a quiet goodbye to him in your head and turn around to face him and kiss his forehead.

At least the last time you touch, it’s soft like that. At least the last time you touch him- it’s gentle.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon trade-off. A gun shared between the two of them. Perched on the edge of the nest. Eyes on the vacant stairway Infront of them. Listening for every creek and whisper met with a held breath and hand tightening around the gun. Waiting for the violence that you can all feel coming.

You won’t let it hit them; you won’t let it into this house again. Not while you’re still breathing.

When you're sure that Hobi is asleep you roll onto your back and stare up at the Christmas lights twinkling in the dark. You remember watching Jungkook hang them for you. You remember. You'll always try to remember; you promise yourself right then and there that you'll never let the memory slip away. No matter what happens.

You look over at Kookie, face so peaceful in sleep, a pillow hugged to his chest belly down in the nest, cheek squished close to the top of Yoongi's head on your other side. His back rising and falling.

Jungkook has always been a pretty omega. You reach over to him to stroke down the stiff bridge of his nose, to commit his face to memory. When you turn back to Hobi, you do the same, touching across the heart shape of his mouth, the subtle roundness in his cheeks everything. You look around at all of them- your pack, sleeping softly- sleeping safely. Namjoon's wide back, his shoulders that could hold the world up. Unaware that you're watching him.

You’ll remember all of it, every car ride, every trip to the beach. Every joke and jab. You’ll store each of the memories like a found thing in your pocket. A piece of seashell or sea glass.

You’ll take Jungkook’s laughter and store it- a memory to use when you need to remember that it’s okay to be young for a minute more. When you need to look after yourself you’ll remember how Jin did it and follow his example. And when you need to rest and be soft you'll remember yoongi. You’ll remember Tae like a tube of lipstick and see her every day in the color pink. And Jimin-

Jimin has a hard time sleeping. Even when Namjoon takes the last shift. He sleeps with one hand on a gun, spaced protectively in front of Tae. His bad arm unfolded from his sling. Putting his body between her and the staircase. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the knowledge of that when he glances back, just to check and make sure that Tae and Hobi are still breathing. You hide your open eyes from him when he turns, going extra still and feigning sleep.

Namjoon tamps down on his instincts; the last thing he wants is for his scent to go sour and possibly rouse them. But in the quiet, Namjoon's mind has too much room to fan out and overanalyze. Panic is a particularly alluring drug, his mind festers in it. Rolling around in bad ideas the way that Noodle would roll around in a puddle of catnip.

If he got the pack together, put you all in cars, and drove you far far away from here would that be enough to keep you all safe from harm? Or would that only be temporary? Is temporary safety worse when you know what you have to come back to? Or should he just try to talk to these people, barter with them something. Would money be enough? How much wouldn't Namjoon give? 

You are dreadfully similar to him. Only his planning stays in its infancy stage. 

It isn’t all silent. Noises punctuate the night here and there. Namjoon is so on edge that he all but snaps his teeth at the shadows. An alpha on alert.

Namjoon’s ears perk up at every car that dares to drive by your narrow street, the neighbor two houses to the left who leaves for work in the city at 4:05 every morning, right on time. Noodle and the sound of his scrabbly little paws on the stairs, zooming up and down them until Namjoon gets up to scruff him too. 

Your freaking cat does not like Namjoon on a normal day, he's only ever loved you and Hobi and tolerated Tae and Jungkook- condemning all the rest to hisses and claws, but Noodle settles with Namjoon's hand on the back of his neck. "See, that wasn't too hard was it?"

Noodle gives one last half-hearted hiss as Namjoon places him gently in the nest where he stays put after curled up around Tae’s head like a fluffy little hat. Purring and licking at her forehead. All but taunting Namjoon with his yellow eyes. Flinty and knowing in the darkness. Bushy tail flailing every time the alpha glances back.

You think you’re being quiet when you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Untangling Hobi’s arm from around your waist and pulling yourself to the edge of the bed. He's out cold from the painkillers. Barely even stirring. 

Noodle stirs however, darting from the nest with a small murr sound as if to say, "see- she's awake so why can't I be?" Tail raised high as he prances to the doorway. 

You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.

You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep. 

“I was just getting a glass of water.”

Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow. Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air. 

Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.

Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Instead, he checks the wounds on your hands and verifies that they’re clotting. The margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with only gentle scolding). He presses a kiss to the bandages after they're re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.

Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scarred.

Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every breath he breathes, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. You can give him one more minute). He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.

“Joonie?” You ask.

Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there with a quiet happy growl.

Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you and how far you've come. He nuzzles, resisting the temptation to bite and nip with a breath let out through clenched teeth.

Namjoon feels your quiet laugh against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.

“What are you doing alpha?” 

“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.

“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tighten on your waist. fingers pressing to either side of your spine, thumbs sitting on the soft bones of your hips. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “Maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? Or something? Would that be fun? Would you like that?” 

You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and imploring like a child. 

You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this?

It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend getaway. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack. It hits you with such a profound heartache when you think it that you half expect to look down and see your white tank top speckled with blood. The ache so keen and visceral but- 

Namjoon would be a good father. 

He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard, and even if it’s hard you do it together.

If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.

You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach. 

Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button. 

You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. You'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of your wreckage is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you. 

You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?

You can't resist asking Namjoon for more, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the world's hurts (or to keep you in). 

“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”

Namjoon rests his chin on your belly button and looks up at you. Completely unaware of the longing tearing its way through you, of what you’re thinking about. Not just one trip or one year, but ten or twenty or thirty. 

“Maybe south, to see the cherry blossoms?”

“We couldn’t go, not without Tae- cuz of the pink, and Hobi- cuz of the flowers”

Namjoon nods, agreeing. “Yeah- she does really like anything that’s pink.” There is a Tae-shaped smile on his face, you can feel it stretching your lips too. But he shakes it off, head bowed before you. Eyes closed against the image. 

“Still, somewhere safe and quiet just for us, just for you and I to take a deep breath and-” Namjoon trails off, looking up at you. His eyes sparkle with the idea of it, all the little moments he’s picturing.

A private morning where he wakes up to just you. Where you hog his warm spot and his pillow in the chilly spring air. Your cold toes pressed to his shins with nothing to do but appreciate each other and take your loving slow and intentional. Your body and his body and all the space and laughter that you want in between. An idyllic picture of two young people quietly in love. Gently in it.

After almost losing all of it, he wants the chance to properly appreciate you one-on-one. The others too- but they’re asleep, and sleeping vessels cannot reply to Namjoon’s daydreams. You are the only one awake.

(In Namjoon's fantasy, he'll give each of his packmates a different trip. every one of them even if it's just the ones he's recently almost lost that have him thinking of these particular plans.

Hobi would want just a day trip. Namjoon knows the alpha doesn’t really like to be separated from the pack for all that long, a few hours sure. Maybe to some vintage stores that he’s been eyeing to the city or the botanical garden.

Seokjin he’d take somewhere grand and big and full of adventure, maybe to 6 Flags or something. Jin likes to be reminded that he’s allowed to be a kid again, that he doesn’t always have to look after everyone all the time. That he has Namjoon to lean on.

Tae, he’d take somewhere gilded just as she is, like teatime at the Ritz- or maybe abroad to the castle of Versailles. The hall of mirrors and a million pictures of Tae in pretty dresses, twirling. In Namjoon’s head- he watches her turn and flutter slowly like a top. Spinning and spinning).

But none of that is quite your style. You don't really crave outings or adrenaline or gilded things. Your wants are much more simple maybe- because you've always known how priceless quiet and peace is. Gentleness is all you've ever really wanted- not excitement or acclaim or ego.

“A little cabin somewhere in the mountains, a spot for just us. We wouldn’t even have to do anything, A staycation. A night or two.” As the world spins on, you are who Namjoon craves to be still with.

You swallow hard, lingering, still half leaning over him still. Letting him nose at your jaw and purr.

“That would be so nice Joonie."

You swallow, throat thick with something. You lean forward pressing a kiss- too brief, to his lips, Namjoon’s lips part and he breathes gently. You blink back the glassiness in your eye and hope that Namjoon dismisses it as the light from the moon streaming through one of the skylights. All white and black. Wrenching you through something that feels like film. You commit the feel of him and the sound of his voice to memory and then pull back.

“I really need to get a glass of water.”

Namjoon shifts to get up, to come with you, but you just laugh at him and push at his shoulder, he flops back onto the bed.

“I can go on my own Joonie.” He grumbles but stays put. Nosing at the goosebumps on your arms and leaning to retrieve Hobi’s sweatshirt from where you left it in the nest. It smells like sleeping pups and Jin. Milky and soft and safe. Namjoon’s body shivers happily when he sees you put it on.

You squirm out from between his legs. His palm stays wrapped around the tips of your fingers. They slide out of his a little, and then all the way.

“It’s not safe.” You heave a tired sigh, what he thinks is a tired sigh but is actually you trying your hardest not to cry. You lean over him to grab the gun from where it’s rested against the nesting barrier. Getting your phone while you’re at it and sliding it into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

“Is that better?” Namjoon grumbles but still lets you go. Sitting there on the edge of your nest and guarding the others. You look back at him from the top of the stairs and smile.

The house is quiet, with no creeks on the stairs and no winds blowing across the roof. No sound at all in the house beyond your quiet footsteps that Namjoon listens to as you go down the stairs.

Feeling every second of your distance like the sluggish beat of his heart, thump thump thump. Namjoon looks back to look at his pack. Their bodies curled and resting, so gentle in sleep. After a few minutes, there are footsteps on the stairs, small soft ones.

Thump.

“They’re so beautiful” Namjoon comments to you. Waiting for reply.

The silence gnashes its teeth, still hungry.

When Namjoon turns back, it’s not you standing at the top of the stairs- just Noodle with his tail raised high. His yellow eyes glow almost florescent in the darkness, meowing and hissing so loud it might wake the others.

“Noodle, quiet.” The cat just doesn’t quit, batting at Namjoon’s ankles, claws and all. “Noodle- hush.” He scoops up the fussy cat, but Namjoon’s only reward is some claws to his forearms and some more squirming.

Downstairs, he hears a sound that makes him pause. Instincts going from at peace to on edge.

Thump

The front door opens and closes softly with a soft click of the metal doorknob.

Thump

Namjoon goes to the top of the stairs, holding Noodle in his arms before the cat squirms and falls to the floor with a thud. “Pup?” he calls, hushed. You don’t respond. Only silence greets him, sated at last.

Thump, breath, thud.

Namjoon waits a moment, listening for a response that doesn't come before he goes down the stairs, Noodle nearly trips him on the way down, hissing and pacing back and forth in front of the door. The ground floor of the house is completely absent of you- absent of anyone friend or foe. The room is soaked in the blue darkness of morning that is not quite dawn. The white countertops are unassuming and the plates stay in their places.

Thud.

The couch still has its dark spot from where Jin cleaned it. The tangerines are safely in the bowl back on the counter shining like several small suns or planets. Everything is empty empty empty.

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

Namjoon checks the shoe rack. Your sneakers are missing, the same ones that match Hobi's and usually sit side by side with his. The spot where they should be empty.

Thud

Your wallet is missing from the bowl just inside the door.

Thud

Namjoon looks out onto the street and finds it empty.

Thud thud thud

Namjoon does not panic, Namjoon does not head out onto the street and chase you down- maybe he should have. He should have done any number of things. The sun is just barely rising turning the sky into that honey blue-green color and Namjoon just stands there and stares.

Namjoon is frozen. What kind of alpha is he- why kind of alpha freezes instead of fights or flights?

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

A few minutes pass and something must tip off the packmates upstairs- either the empty nest or the sound of Noodle yowling and quite literally trying to bite Yoongi's ear off.

The next thing Namjoon is aware of is Yoongi is on the stairs, looking pissed off, looking terrified. almost falling down them with the speed at which he descends.

He takes the stairs down two at a time, colliding with Namjoon at the bottom of them. He looks like a puffed-up cat, hair wild and eyes equally as glaring as Noodles when he shakes Namjoon, just a little. “Where is she? Namjoon? Where did she go? Where is my mate!?"

Is it Yoongi's scent- acrid and angry- that knocks him out of his stupor? Or is it the top of his ruffled head almost colliding with the bottom of Namjoon’s jaw when the beta shakes him again.

Namjoon stutters, panic making him inarticulate. So scared he repeats it twice. "I don't know- I don't know, I- she said she was just getting a glass of water. I swear-"

Yoongi's fists tangle in the front of Namjoon's shirt. He sounds sick with it. Voice twisting in pitch.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her- you weren't supposed to let her out of your fucking sight.”

There are other people on the stairs, roused by the sound of raised voices. A lone light flicked on sends everyone into yellow chiaroscuro. Namjoon is still staring at the street, heart thundering quicker than your footsteps as you run. The streetlights wink out behind you as you go. Fleeing with the night and bowing under the weight of oncoming daylight. Running as fast as your body can carry you.

Could he catch up if he started running now?

It's Jungkook, his dark hair pushed up at the side where it rested against the nest, who asks, “What happened?What’s going on?”

Tae’s eyes dart between Yoongi and Namjoon, her pink silk dressing gown wrapped tight around her shoulders. “Where’s the pup?”

"Yeah Namjoon, where the fuck is my mate??" Yoongi grits his teeth, shaking Namjoon so hard it almost knocks him off his feet and sends him careening a little into the narrow dresser table that the pack keeps by the door for gloves and mittens and keys and wallets.

“I don’t know, I don’t-"

Jungkook and Tae have just spilled out from the stairs into the entryway when Yoongi’s hands hit his shoulders, pushing and then digging into Namjoon’s skin. He’s shaking so hard he can hardly speak.

“You were supposed to be watching her. You were supposed to make sure she was safe-”

“Yoongi- hey- Stop” Tae’s not shaking anymore when gets her hands on his shoulders pulling him away from namjoon where he simmers. Jin is still asleep upstairs. Hasn’t been roused by all the tense voices. Too tired from yesterday- from staying up to scrub blood with Yoongi.

Jungkook skitters to the door as Jimin and hobi descend the steps. nearly bouncing on his heels as he opens the front door letting in a gush of cold air. “What are we waiting for? lets go."

Yoongi's face crumples. “I don’t get it, where did she go- why would she have-”

Hoseok swallows but talks softly, the swelling’s gone down enough even though the bruises look a million times worst in the sunlight streaming through the window. It’s not even 6am yet. His soft hiss is gentle, but the pack pauses to hear it.

“A deal- I think she made a deal.”

It's the first words he’s been able to speak since the attack. Vocal cords straining with every word. Everyone quiets to listen to Hobi. Jimin’s got the shotgun in his hands. He leans it up against the doorway. The heavy thunk punctuates the shocked quiet- but hobi continues.

“When the man was here- she tried to barter our lives with hers." Everyone looks to Tae. And her eyes lower to the floor.

“She did say that but I didn’t think she was serious, I just thought-”

The conversation is a flurry, everyone talking over each other as conversation explodes. Yoongi's face twists from devastated to enraged. “Jesus fucking Christ- that stupid stupid-”

Jungkook clings to Jimin's t-shirt, “What are we going to do? Hyung- what should we-”

Jimin hasn't spoken a word yet, and softly draws Jungkook's hands away from his shirt. “Where would she even have even gone?"

“Did someone pick her up?” Hobi’s words seem to ring out, even though his voice is so fragile.

Namjoon shakes his head. “No- I was listening, I didn’t hear any car in the road- not for like the whole hour.”

“So, you were listening enough to hear the street but not to stop her from literally walking away from us, great. Good to know Namjoon.”

“Yoongi that is like- the opposite of helpful.”

“There's still the matter of where would she have gone. She didn't take a car-” Hoseok looks up in Tae’s direction. She sees the realization light across his face.

“Hobi?”

But Hoseok ignores her, lurching to the small cabinet by the front door; the pack’s drop-off points for their keys, their wallets and your fuzzy little purse from your first ever date with jimin and tae as well as a good slice of Tae’s collection of little red pocketbooks. They keep their things this way because Namjoon loses his keys at least once a month a nd having a communal spot always helps the general disorder of having 8 people live in one house.

Hoseok scrambles not for your wallet but for his.

He reaches for his wallet. Opening it and searching but-

The train ticket is gone.

Your train ticket- the one that you gave Hobi for safekeeping so many months ago is missing from where he usually keeps it in the last slot. Right next to that folded poem of Tae's and an old gift card. In its place is just a simple folded note, a new piece of paper that hasn’t been worn soft at the edges yet. Torn from the same pad of paper that Jin writes the grocery list on. Hoseok’s hands shake as they fish it out. 5 words that aren’t nearly enough.

I’m sorry, I love you.

You’d never told him that- that you loved him. Not after you’d had sex and he’d confessed. Not in the tangle of moments that followed with Jimin bloody and the pack breaking. You’d never spilled your heart to him that way. In the back of his head, he realizes that there just hadn’t been time.

This is the first time you’ve told Hoseok you love him and maybe the last. Hoseok’s heart beats quick. She loves me. Thump. She loves me. Thump. She loves-

Hoseok shoots off like a bullet out the open door, thundering across the porch slats. Too fast for the rest of the sleepy pack to properly anticipate and follow. Peering out after him, a little sluggish and a lot shocked. His socks skid and slip as he tries to arrest his momentum and almost falls as He doubles back for his shoes.

The rest of the pack stares down at him blankly as he tugs them on, sprawled there on the floor just outside the door. Hands shaking too much for bunny-eared loops. He doesn’t even bother to lace them before he’s lunging for his car keys in the bowl too. Nearly knocking over the table in his haste.

“The train station- she’s going to the train station.” He gasps.

The words you shared that night ring in his head, playing on repeat. Like a record that’s been scratched too many times. He’s replayed those moments too many times. He’s not sure if he remembers it correctly.

“Give me one chance, let me try to convince you to stay and if I can’t- then I’ll let you go, and I won’t tell Yoongi what train you took.”

The countless times you’d joked with him after that, the moment so light that Hoseok didn’t notice the weight behind them.

“You still got that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

Hoseok never thought that you’d use it. He thought that the ticket would have stayed frayed and pretty in his wallet until you framed it or something. Until you could look back on it and laugh and say things like “remember that night? Remember how it used to be before we loved each other?”

“No, I don’t, can you remind me?”

This is not that, this is not the future that Hoseok had imagined for the two of you. This abject terror. Suddenly Hoseok is unmoored, suddenly he is falling. Usually, you can see the end from a mile away. Is it worse if you lose the person you love because of circumstance or because they decide to leave on their own? Hoseok never thought you'd actually do it.

Hoseok thought your promise last night meant something. Later when he’s not so scared he’ll remember that he’s angry about that.

The rest of the pack explodes too. Jungkook doesn’t bother to put on his shoes- just heaves Hobi up by his shoulders and pushes him towards his car. Yoongi snatches both of their pairs from the floor and joins them. Cold feet on the small pea-gravel driveway. Jimin darts forward wrenching off his arm sling regardless of Namjoon’s protests.

“I’ll drive” Jimin doesn’t have to wrestle with Hoseok’s keys for long. Even with his hands numb Jimin is still the best driver. He won’t pull corners or care about hitting curbs. He reeves it with a roaring purr while the rest get in and looks at Tae in the rearview mirror. Standing on the porch looking breakable and not all there still. Her eyes on his have that same peculiar weight, the same weight that makes Jimin’s blood sing with purpose.

If there was ever someone that Tae needed, it was you. Not Jimin. He will haul you back from the edge of hell if he needs to, for her. because this is not the ending that you and tae deserve. Jimin will tear you from hell. Teeth and sin and all.

Jungkook has barely shut the door before Jimin peals out, reversing until the tires screech against the asphalt and leave dark lines in their wake. Tire tracks, strings of fate, shoelaces. He shoots off down the street and out of sight, knocking over a trash bin with a clang and leaving Tae and Namjoon back on the porch.

Hoseok knows the name of the station you were most likely to go to but not how to get to it. It's an 15 minute walk, maybe a 10 minute run and it's already been 8 since you left. Jimin points his car in the direction of the main road while he pulls it up on his cell phone.

With every sharp turn Yoongi and Jungkook slosh in the back seat and hit into each other. Some early morning commuter honks his horn at Jimin but he doesn’t even see them. The scenery flickering by and the asphalt melting away underneath the wheels of Hoseok’s red car. The small grey towns melt away, Break lights bleeding less than they should. The engine stutters and engages but no one cares about the uneven acceleration. Hoseok would total this car in a heartbeat if it meant getting you in time.

At the straightaway Jungkook stoops to slip his feet into his shoes, Yoongi holding his shoulder. The phone in between them slides on the leather seat, spitting out its electronic voice, overly cheerful.

"Re-routing!"

“Wait Minnie- go left.”

“Fuck!” Jimin makes the turn just barely, sparks skittering and burning out as he goes over one of those tiny reflective dividers. Hoseok curses every pothole for damaging their momentum and slowing them down.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that it’s this station that she'd go to?” Hoseok’s heart is thundering in his ears, beating furious and fast.

“Almost positive.” Yoongi holds onto the back of Hoseok’s chair to keep himself in place.

“We have to get to her before she gets to the city. Can’t you go any faster?” Jimin jerks the wheel around a flashy BMW. Almost hitting them with how close he gets. Jimin lets the speedometer answer Yoongi's question. Pushing 60 in a 35 and then 70.

Your note is crumpled tight in Hoseok's fist, a tiny bit of yellow paper that he unfolds and looks at before shoving deep within the confines of his jacket.

Yoongi is not looking at hoseok when he says his next sentence. Hoseok's not even thinking about his old pack, he's just thinking about the fact that you love him and he never got to hear you say it. Not when Yoongi pulls himself almost between his and Jimin’s seat and repeats the same to Jimin again, the same only different.

Thud.

“We have to get to her before Moonbyul does, if she gets to her- I don't know what I'll be able to do Minnie- even with the power that I have Moonbyul still has more-”

Hobi’s flinch is visceral, jerking like he's shocked.

He turns around to look at Yoongi as Jimin blows through a stop sign and then a red light. Jungkook winces and doesn’t say anything. Pushing Yoongi’s shoes across the seat. “Hyung- you should get ready to run.”

Hoseok and Yoongi look at each other. Hoseok's turned almost all the way around in his seat to stare at Yoongi- more specifically Yoongi’s mouth. He’s not sure if Jimin’s painkillers would make him hallucinate but that’s the only logical reason his brain can come up with after hearing that name- her name- come out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“What?"

Jimin's voice is deathly quiet. "Hoseok- turn the fuck around. If I get into an accident at this speed you will die if you're not facing forward to the airbag."

Hoseok turns back to face the road. Jimin grips the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Thank you.”

The sunlight is just cresting the tops of the trees. Dotting the scenery blue and yellow. Hoseok’s ears are ringing with her name.

Yoongi pulls himself closer to Hoseok, hands still gripping the headrest, the only thing that keeps him from bobbing and moving with the movement of the car. Eyes locked on Hoseok's face in the rearview mirror.

"I said something- I said something and you're having a thought."

"I fucking hope so-" Jungkook's quip goes unnoticed. Unnoticed through the volley of honking horns as the red car tares through the street. By some miracle, they haven’t passed a cop car yet.

Hoseok looks in the rearview mirror, at Yoongi’s face. Biting his lower lip. “It’s nothing just that name.”

Hoseok looks at Yoongi and all he can think about is how he'd never said- he'd never told Yoongi their names. Saying them or even thinking them reminds Hoseok too much of his own begging. What kind of alpha begs for an omega to hurt them- to stay?

Yoongi just about puts himself in the front seat of the car as Jimin breaks hard to navigate around a tractor-trailer. Riding on the shoulder, the rumble strips vibrating all of them hard and roaring just like Hoseok’s blood thundering through his ears.

“Moonbyul? Moon Byul-yi? You know it?”

Hoseok shivers, the reaction of his body route, unavoidable. Jarring. Trauma builds itself into your bones whether you like it or not. Triggers are not so much a part of you as they are a light switch that makes the worst parts of you turn on.

"Yeah- I do. It’s the name of my ex-pack omega.” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be distracted, and he almost gets into an accident for his troubles. They’re silent for a second, Yoongi and Jimin look at each other.

“It could be the same name.”

Yoongi scrambles for his phone on the seat right as Jimin makes a turn and it goes flying. He finds it underneath Hoseok’s seat, hands slippery with sweat on it.

“Hang on, I think I have a picture of her somewhere.”

Yoongi scrolls all the way to the back in his phone. Switches to Instagram, going back and back and back through time, and then he's sticking it in Hoseok's face.

Seeing her face feels like Yoongi’s slapped him. Her face is on Yoongi's phone. Why is her face on Yoongi’s phone? Her hair is longer than it was when they dated, she must not have cut it since. But it's definitely her.

Hoseok feels like he's spinning, it's been so long since he's seen her face but it's definitely the one from his nightmares, the one he sees grinning and crooning false praises that have stuck to Hoseok's soul like glue. The face that he sees behind his eyes and sees in every criticizing comment only on his bad days. She's standing shoulder to shoulder with Yoongi, both of them in black suits along with a man that looks enough like Yoongi for him to guess that that's his brother, your ex-husband.

Your abuser and his and Yoongi in between them. Hoseok can only hear ringing in his ears, he knows he sounds accusatory when he snaps. "How the fuck do you know my ex-pack omega?"

“She’s my cousin. Are you sure that's her?”

Hoseok feels like he’s spinning. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I thought you said your old pack was all omega’s?” Yoongi knows Hoseok’s lore, knows it like he knows the back of his hand. He looks up, hair falling across his face. Hoseok frowns jabbing his finger at the phone.

“I did. She’s an omega.”

The dissonance hits him and Yoongi almost wants to disagree but then-

Hoseok watches the lightbulb go off, Yoongi’s eyes widening imperceptibly as he paws at the phone and Hoseok’s hand. The car sickness lurches in his stomach as he turns to look back at Yoongi, and the g force hits him as Jimin takes another turn Impossibly fast. The seatbelt across Hobi’s chest engages with a click, digging into his skin and the bruises on his neck with a painful jerk.

“Are you sure? Hoseok- you have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

This is all a game of leverage. A game of who knows what secret and what gets exchanged for whom. Yoongi spent most of last night wondering about Moonbyul's motivation, and now he knows why.

Hoseok is holding onto Yoongi’s phone, they’re hands gripping it together. “Is this who she’s going too? The one who tried to kill us? Is-” Hoseok has to swallow to get the words out right. “Is Moonbyul the one trying to take her?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok shivers, eyes darkening, scent spiraling wildly. His muscles trembling as he thinks about it. You and Moonbyul.

Yoongi pulls himself around Jimin’s headrest. Hand on his throat, digging into his scent gland. He doesn't have time to explain to them.

Only alphas can lead the family, only alphas can rule. If Moonbyul isn't one- that calls into question the legitimacy of her rule. The families would never stand to see an omega on the throne, she'd be ousted, probably killed for daring to lie. The families would tear her apart piece by piece and Yoongi would let them.

If Moonbyul is the person who hurt Hobi- and now she's going after you- that's two people that Yoongi loves that she's directly hurt. Yoongi is thinking all sorts of dangerous things. But they have to get to you first.

If Moonbyul isn't an alpha then Yoongi's just found his leverage and maybe the whole reason why the pack was targeted in the first place.

A packmate for a secret. Yoongi imagines the worst-case scenario; Don't tell and I won't hurt her. Don’t tell anyone and she lives.

How long had she stewed and festered- knowing that Hoseok was out there- knowing that he knew the secret that could lead to her undoing. Maybe she thought his knowing would never come back to bite her, and had intended on tying up the loose end later. Maybe she didn't know Hoseok had found his way into Yoongi's arms until after the old Don and Beta had died. She probably thought that they’d never put it together- at least not until it was too late.

Whatever her reasons, this has gone on long enough.

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Hoseok’s body is taught like a spring-loaded and ready to burst. His voice a near growl.

“Jimin, I need you to drive.”

~-~

Tae and Namjoon are left standing there on the porch. Namjoon left staring after them as they hurl away from the house. Running his hands through his hair hard. Thinking of what to do until-

Tae tugs on his sleeve, “Your phone- Joonie- you should call her.”

“Right- fuck-” Namjoon goes and gets it, and comes back to stand with Tae on the porch. “Come on- come on pick up.” Namjoon paces back and forth on the front porch, the snowmelt from the roof drips out an uneven rhythm onto the railing. the cold spray hitting his stress-warm skin.

Tae stands by the door. Frozen, a statue of Namjoon’s distress. Inside, Namjoon hears a voice. Jin coming down the stairs, probably roused by the sound of the car screeching out of the driveway and down the road.

“Tae? Where is everybody?”

“Pup’s being stupid. The others left to go get her before she’s like- really really stupid.”

Jin freezes in the doorway, fist rubbing his eye. He sounds smaller and younger than Namjoon’s ever heard him. “Am I having a bad dream?” namjoon's pacing stutters and then starts up again. Jin doesn't need him right now, Jin he can help later.

Tae takes Jin's hand and leads him to the outdoor furniture. The cushions have to be damp but they sit anyway. Tae pulls her knees under her and rests her cheek on Jin's shoulder. “That’s what I thought too at first.”

Namjoon almost sobs when he hears it- the click of the dial tone and a single breath. He can hear the thud of the train in the background, the hiss of pressure against the scratchy speaker.

“Pup? oh thank god, stay where you are- the others are-”

“Namjoon? Joonie stop- I didn’t pick up so that you could convince me to come back. I only picked up because I never said goodbye.”

Namjoon freezes, and he feels like the snowmelt from the roof has just dripped down his back. Growing frigid more with each word. If there was ever a question on if you’d gone willingly or been taken- it was answered with that.

“Pup, come home right now or I swear to god-”

“No! For once you’re going to listen!” You’ve only shouted at him a handful of times and he’s hardly ever heard you sound so serious.

"No- you can't-"

“Namjoon, The second you say anything to try and convince me to stay is the moment I hang up, so what is it gonna be?”

Namjoon goes silent and stops his pacing. Holding the phone so hard it feels like the plastic and metal might break.

Namjoon’s very being hinges on every syllable you say, Like the ocean hinges on the moon. Water tethered and kept from the shore by something as simple as gravity. Tae is right there. Tae is watching the driveway not saying anything with that same blank look Namjoon has seen on your face countless times.

All at once Namjoon is reminded of you in the summertime back when he first met you and trauma had you all quiet. Staring off into space in much the same way. Small and fragile and worth saving. You’ve always been that for him; worth saving.

Jin scrubs a hand across his face, clearing himself of the last little bits of sleep. He holds out his hand for the phone, but Namjoon doesn’t give it to him just paces right by him as he listens to you.

“I only picked up the phone because I have some things that I want to say to you.”

You sound more settled and less angry but just as resigned and convicted of what you're doing. Like no part of you doubts your choices. Namjoon wishes you sounded angry, that you sounded sad, but you don’t sound like any of those things.

“I'm not leaving because I think I don't deserve a life with you and the pack. I’m not leaving because I think that I’m not worth your love. I’m leaving because for the first time I know that I am.

“For the first time I understand why Yoongi left and why he didn’t come back until he knew it would be safe. Because when you love something the way that I love you, you’ll do anything to protect them. Can you really blame me Joonie? For doing what you might have done?”

You continue on like you’re not wrenching Namjoon’s heart clean from his chest. Like you’re not a hurricane on his very being- dark and thunderous tearing through him as impersonal as wind. Namjoon’s heart thuds and thuds and thuds.

“Before I leave you, I want you to know that if I loved you less- I might have stayed.”

Namjoon’s lungs ache, ache and sting and swell with words he can’t say, he can’t breathe. His mouth screwed into a soundless sob. He actually might be having a panic attack. He's never had one before- he's not sure if he knows what one feels like. If it's like this- if it's like this he can understand why people call them an attack.

It's frantic, like he's chewing off his own leg to get out of your words. The panic is so terrible. Namjoon hasn't been this scared since he was a child. At least Yoongi had the fucking decency not to make his leaving so visceral.

Namjoon is bent over, tears dripping down his nose, sagging almost to his knees. “Why are you doing this to us!? To me!”

Something jiggles the phone, something that makes your voice all warbly- Namjoon imagines you on the train in a window seat. Resting your cheek against the balmy glass while you talk to him. Staring out at the scenery racing by. Hurtling towards your future like a comet or maybe an asteroid (something more destructive- more appropriate for the wretchedness filling Namjoon’s lungs like tar, the desiccated bodies of the dreams he had for you and the plans he made with you in mind clogging his lungs and making it hard to breathe).

Who knows, maybe off between the trees and the road, you see a red car zooming, trying to keep pace with the train.

Namjoon’s heart feels like it’s skipping too many beats.

“Something Jin told me the other day got stuck in my head and I keep thinking about it, would you like to hear it?”

You take his silence for permission and Namjoon does not turn to look at Jin and Tae sitting on the outdoor furniture. They just sit there; they don't do anything. Namjoon wishes there was something they could do or something he could barter for your safe return but you already have all of him and all of him wasn't enough to make you stay.

“Jin showed me this little article the other day- a few weeks ago now. He can tell you it in more detail but basically, it was about these mice.”

Namjoon struggles to say something- unsure where you’re going with this but desperate to keep you on the line. At least until the others get to you. Drinking down your voice, the whisper of your breath, everything.

“They made like- two test groups, they wanted to measure like- willpower- or how long they would try to live before they gave up. It’s kinda dark I guess. I'm not a good judge of things like that you know.”

Your laugh is the prettiest and saddest thing that Namjoon’s ever heard. He wants to record it and save it for later like some hidden track and he never wants to hear it again.

“Anyways- they put the mice and a bucket of water and timed how long it took for them to stop swimming, to stop trying to live. They’d try for a little while but give up pretty quickly. Like- an hour. That’s how much will to live that they had: an hour’s worth of it.”

Namjoon breaks, shouting, “I don’t want to talk about mice I want to talk about getting you the fuck home!”

Namjoon can hear your smile in your voice, And no-no-no you won’t even let him fight- you won’t even let him snap at you and engage with it. Namjoon’s seen you sad, he’s seen you defeated. He’s seen you so hungry you could hardly hold your head up. But seeing you convicted of this punishment is worse than anything.

“Anyway- they just killed the first group for a baseline. But with the second group just before they died- just before they went underwater- They took them out of the water and dried them off.”

Your voice goes hushed at the end. The morning sunlight cuts across the top of the house yellow. The tree too- it’s early morning- Namjoon’s favorite time of day and he won’t be ever able to properly enjoy it again. Won’t ever be able to wake up at this time of day and not think about the morning you left.

“They let them rest and gave them some food.”

Namjoon feels like he’s about to have a heart attack, blood thumping and hitting against his ribcage. Bullying out the flowers and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cuddled them a little.”

Namjoon stands at the doorway to the pack den. Hands so tight in their fists that they ache and ache. Namjoon’s hands have saved countless people’s lives before, and they’ve saved yours too- but right now they just hurt.

“And when they put them back in,”

Noodle meows dolefully from the door, swatting at Jin’s ankles and then purring around Tae’s. Namjoon’s knees are shaking.

“They lasted for a whole 12 hours longer. Because they thought they might be saved. Because they had some love to remember. They were able to last for a lot longer than they would have otherwise.”

His face is screwed something terrible with how hard he’s sobbing. How is it that just an hour ago you were safe in his arms, talking about getting away from here. Just an hour ago. It's still 5am a time zone away, if Namjoon got on a plane and flew there- would you still be safe? Is there any way to turn back time?

You only get to love people for as long as you get and not a second more. You get what you get and you don't get upset. Yoongi might have been your lifeblood, the air in your lungs and your reason for existing, but you’d still be that fragile creature close to drowning if it wasn’t for Namjoon.

“Namjoon?” You say his name once and then softer, a croon. “Joonie.”

He's sobbing too hard to see, “Don’t-”

“Thank you for drying me off.”

The phone clicks and disconnects.

Namjoon falls to the stairs, ass in a puddle but none of him cares. He remembers the first day he heard you speak, sitting on these stairs while he helped Yoongi fix the railing. Namjoon remembers the summer heat and feeling scared for you for the first time- because the railing felt so rickety and the last thing he wanted was for you or Jungkook or Hobi to fall. Namjoon is the one who is falling, hurtling towards destruction that stops and ends with his heart.

His hands hurt. He remembers laughing with the others and stealing sips of sweet tea. Nibbling on the sour lemons, sweaty and hot and dusty. His eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head with how hard he’s crying. He remembers that you’d poked his dimples and called them pretty, he remembers feeling tired after but fulfilled for it.

One scene in summer and the other in winter now. At the beginning of a relationship and now at the end. The stairs still creek, the wind still blows and Namjoon's hands are still sweaty.

Namjoon sobs loudly and it echos across the empty cul-de-sac gut-wrenching. People cry differently when they lose people they love. Namjoon has heard people cry like this after he’s told them bad news, no sign of brain activity. We did everything that we could. I'm so sorry. It sounds different now that it’s coming out of his own mouth.

He actually might pass out with how hard he’s breathing. Teeth dig into his lower lip so hard he tastes blood. He’s still holding the phone to his ear. “Pup- wait- I love you- you can’t do this to us- to me.” But you’ve already hung up on him.

The dial tone tears through him like a bullet. Namjoon should be bleeding, broken hearts don't hurt this much without blood. People don’t hurt this much without actual wounds.

Eventually, something touches his back, a soft furry creature that only makes Namjoon sob harder as Noodle bullies his way under Namjoon’s arm and licks at his fingertips. Before long there’s hands on him. Jin and Tae pull him up and onto the furniture. One hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. Jin grabs his wrist. Circling it gently before he holds his hands and nudges them until they relax from their clenched fists.

Namjoon cries.

Together they watch the road and wait for the others to return.

~-~

(Hidden playlist ▶ Play track?)

“Shit!”

They miss the first train by just a few seconds. It screeches away from the platform when Jungkook gets out of the car. Standing there for a breath and watching it pull away. The metal thud screech of it drowns out Yoongi’s voice.

Jimin hits the wheel and growls before he revs the engine and turns, almost hitting a fire hydrant with how quick and jerky he backs up and accelerates. Leaning forward through the window to snap at Jungkook.

“Get back in the fucking car!”

Jungkook does, the door barely latching and almost swinging free as Jimin peels out of the parking lot. Slamming back shut when Jimin does a near 180 to accelerate back onto the main road.

“Sorry hyung,” Yoongi doesn’t need to reply- they all know that every second matters.

Jimin almost collides with a car stopped at the light before he drives on the shoulder, spinning around them. The train matches the road at this part of the tracks so it’s easy to follow it. They keep pace with it as Jimin pushes 70 miles an hour and then 80.

Jimin keeps the gas pedal well acquainted with the floor until they're going faster than the train. Weaving in and out of traffic back and forth, getting honked at and almost cut off several times. Leaving his packmates to grip to seats and their handles. Worried about getting thrown off but still- not wearing their seatbelts.

“We’re never going to make it! It’s too fast! We’re going to hit traffic soon!” The closer they get to the city the less likely it is that they'll be able to catch up to you. It's nearly early morning rush hour, another 30 minutes and these roads will be at a standstill.

“Hang on- let me see the map,” Hoseok watches Yoongi look at it.

“If we go to the next station, we won’t make it. But, if we try to go to the one after that and cut it off-” A look around the car says everyone agrees with Yoongi. Jimin steps on it, and there are a terrifying few minutes where Jimin’s driving skills honestly make them all count their prayers and promise things to gods that they’re already not fond of- but when they skitter and screech into the next station he hears it.

“The next inbound train will be arriving shortly, please collect your belongings. And remember-“

Hoseok is hot on the announcements heals. Sliding to get out of the car before it’s really stopped. “If we miss this one just go to the next station without us-”

“-if you see something say something.”

The train is coming- Hoseok can see the lights about a 100 feet down the tracks and it's moving fast. Yoongi almost makes to get out but Hoseok just shoves him back inside. Jungkook gets out of the car too, bolting in the direction of the stairs. “Hoseok-”

“Yoongi- Just go!”

There are maybe three flights of stairs up, then 50 feet across the tracks, and then the same amount of steps down. He and Jungkook book it up them. Making every second count. Hurtling through time and air. Ignoring the sore and tired pulse of their muscles. They’re clearing the top step and the train is below them. A silver bullet careening and destined to do damage but slowing down.

They bolt across the landing past the ticket kiosk and through the push doors. The train is stopping with a hiss of breaks and a screech of metal. A release of pressurized air that billows up to them warm carrying with it the smell of tar and city.

Hoseok’s lungs are burning. Jungkook is usually faster by just a little bit and would be on any ordinary day. They might be roughly the same height but Hoseok doesn't do cardio nearly as often as Jungkook does. Jungkook's the one who runs every day, who does cardio like it's sleeping and marathons like they're mid-afternoon naps. Who works out and hones his body to a lethal edge just because he can.

But he doesn’t run like Hoseok does.

Hoseok runs like his life depends on it- the same way you would run if he was walking into Geumjae’s arms. You’d never let Geumjae touch even a hair on Hoseok’s head and if- if Moonbyul is who you’re going to- then there is more at stake than just your phsyical safety, too much at stake for Hoseok to be held back by his body.

Hoseok thinks of the tiramisu. Of walking with you on the beach. Of making your nightime stacks just the way you like it. Of holding you that one time you almost fell into the water. Telling you that you had to be careful. Hoseok remembers driving out in his car, tugging your seatbelt to make sure it fit snug. Standing with you side by side in the flower refrigerators at work and the feeling the first time you’d rubbed your scent gland to his. Every playlist of his with your name on it, every song that you ever shared. All of that- she’s going to destroy all of that if Hoseok doesn’t get to you in time.

He remembers how small she made him feel. How small you were when he first saw you. He won’t let you get that way again. Hoseok won’t let you disappear.

Jungkook is the one who would win this race on any other day, where the stakes any different, but just this once Hoseok is faster. Hurling himself over the concrete as fast as his body will take him. Hoseok cuts through the air like wind.

They run, feet thumping. Bodies thudding, hearts and lungs delivering oxygen to their needy muscles. Beat-up sneakers gripping the concrete. Down and down the stairs, plummeting. Almost tripping and falling on the slippery concrete steps. The doors start to close just as they round the corner.

By some miracle of blood and sweat, Hobi's the one who overtakes Jungkook. The doors are closing and the train's metal shell is beginning to hum and vibrate as it makes to pull away from the tracks.

In a last-ditch effort, Hoseok throws himself in the direction of the closing doors.

~-~

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~-~

Do i think that hobi could have actually warned the pack what she was planning to do? Yes. Do I also think that he thought he had more time to warn them and really wanted to sleep off his near death experience? also yes. Namjoon giving him drugs obviously didn't help. i honestly don't think he was thinking clearly.

this is one of those chapters where everything could have gone differently if they'd just been given a little bit more- but i digress- we all know life isn't so neat and tidy.

I can't not write thinking about the angsty alternative ending for bily- but you guys should know the namjoon/m/c scene...if things had gone poorly in this chapter- this would have been the last time they spoke or touched each other for 3 years- for those who are wondering about the alternative ending- i will NOT be posting any of it on AO3. Only on tumblr through asks! i'll try to tag the super triggering stuff but yeah.

when i think of namjoon and the m/c and their relationship- i think that what they want most for each other is to just see the other old and happy like- that becomes the foundation for their relationship. thats why it's namjoon who she thanks. it also doesn't escape me that yoongi is not in this chapter very much- this is intentional. just wait for next chapter and his anger! i swear its so fucking hot my god i really wanted them to fuck in the next chapter but i just don't think it's going to happen.

the og version of this chapter called for jimin parking hobi's car on the tracks and literally letting the train hit it- not derail- but just hit it. just to get it to stop for the m/c however i figured that was going a bit too far.

Me writing any part with jimin in it- "what if i added a bit of religious trauma to it?"

the line where namjoon talks about his hands hurting is like- directly related to me, because my hands didn't hurt all the time before i started writing bily but now my Knuckles hurt almost every morning. After writing for more than an hour they hurt. i guess when you love something enough it hurts you lol i don't mind.

the "you want a lifetime with them" lines are mostly a callback to like...grey's anatomy. namjoon's charecter is LOOOSELY based on mcdreamy of course the whole...neurosurgeon thing and i am 3 seasons into a re-watch so~ you will have to tollerate that cringeworthy refrence~

i've always wanted to structure a chapter around the thud and thump of a heart and yeah!! i think did a few back but i wanted to do it again~

i don't think i was very subtle with the hoseok train station and the train ticket parts of the story like- i think i forshadowed pretty heavily that it was eventually going to be used but! i hope you liked the big reveal.

how did you guys like the cliffhanger? should i spoil it for you when i've always said that bily would get a happy ending????? i mean...come on... we all know hoseok's gonna be fast enough right?

#bts x reader #bts poly au #bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts polyamory au #bts fluff #bts mafia au #bts gang au #bts au #bts #bts werewolf au #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts hybrid fic #bts x reader angst #bts x reader fluff #bts x reader hurt/comfort #min yoongi x reader #park jimin x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #bts omegaverse #bts omegaverse fic #bts fanfiction #omegaverse fanfic #omegaverse #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook angst

[pascals-doll]

kill kill 1

Joel miller x reader

🫧 part 1 | porn w plot ( no porn this part 🎀)

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧 PART 2 | PART 3

🫧 based off kill kill by lana del rey, written loosely around the lyrics

🫧 description: angst, outbreak! joel, reader has abandonment problems, this is all lowk dramatic, age gap, power dynamic, outbreak! joel, no mention of y/n, pet names like doll, darlin’, and honey, mentions of blood and weapons, and joel being kinda aggressive not really, heated arguing, 😭, mentions of leaving each other, soft joel though :)

Bound up the stairs

I'm in the shower

Do you know I am going to leave you?

Do you know I am going to leave you?

🫧

the water ran throughout your hair, feeling each individual pressurepoint from the showerhead on your head. this was your peace.

this was your peace without Joel Miller. it was the only say to soothe yourself, water. wether it was a shower or swimming.

turning off the faucet, stepping out of the shower. you dry yourself off, comb through your hair, and apply your lotion.

you step out into your empty hallway, that is in your empty home as you walk down to your empty room. that was all it was. empty.

you woke up alone and went to sleep alone for the past 2 months in the rusty home you have. you never left your room sometimes, there was nothing to look forward to go. you were bound to your bed.

joel left you every 2-3 months, the longest was 5 months, he comes back everytime. you get filled with such an overwhelming sensation of happiness and relief everytime he comes back to you, to his home. thats what you tried to be for him, his sanctuary from the constant death and violence.

you greeted him like a solider back from war and everytime you said goodbye, it felt like you were mourning although he was still here. you couldnt help but think to yourself that with the reality you live in, you might aswell all be dead.

the lonesome dreadful 3 months without him was enough to deprive you, constantly looking outside the window with teary eyes, reading his agenda from time to time, comforting yourself by wearing his thick heavy clothing, and looking at the little poloroids you have of him.

youd sit on his rocking chair, the times youd go downstairs. youre mind never stopped worrying. you prayed to the power above to protect him and ellie. you spent sleepless nights just wondering where he could be at that current moment.

it felt like a endless loop, a broken record playing over and over again until you heard your windchimes ring. you had a small thread connection from your porch step to your chimes, helping you notify when someone has approached. you cautiously peek through your blinds.

only to reveal the brute you know with his disheveled brown hair waiting for you. you immediately go open the door with your body overfilled with overwhelming emotion.

you open the door, immediately running into his embrace. you jumped into his arms engulfing him completely “hey my doll” he said lovingly into your ear. your legs wrapped around his waist and arms clung around his broad shoulders, heart feeling like it could explode out of your chest. the scent of nature winds, worn-out clothing, with the hint of blood mixing in with his clogne was enough to have your eyes become teary.

Joel cant lie and say hes not alarmed by how long youve clung to him, you thought a minute barely passed but it was actually about to be 5. Joel had one arm wrapped around you tightly, holding you up “everything good doll?” questioning you sweetly, using his other hand to tuck a strand of your hair. you slightly shift in his tight embrace causing him to groan. yoh knew he was injured of some sort but still always caring for you.

“yes, i just wanted to be like this for little, sorry” you say softly, mixed in with a mumble. you tap his shoulder, signaling to put you down which he does so you could open up the door.

“wheres ellie? i had ironed on that patch on one of her sweaters like she asked the last time she was here” you say with a soft smile, closing the door behind yourselves “i dropped her off at Tommy’s, she wanted to see some friends first.” Joel replies, setting down his backpack and guns. you sit on the couch, waiting for him to join you.

he sits down next to you, automatically having your legs rest ontop of your lap “how are you?” you ask, leaning up slightly to meet closer to his face, your hands on his chest “just a lil’ bruised up doll, gotta get cleaned up so we can figure out what ya’wanna do” Joel explains “where?” you ask, positioning yourself in a more concertative positon as you begin to softly pat to find the location.

“s’okay, dont worry so much” Joel reassures, trying to pull you in. you didnt want to be defensive but it drove you mad how he could come back like nothing. you couldnt process how he could wake up everyday living with himself, not knowing of you or not knowing of anything. you didnt say anything but pull away from him embrace slightly and let out a deep sigh “whats wrong? talk to me darlin’” Joel pushes softly, leaning up to follow you and keep the close space you originally shared.

you scoff “i always fucking worry, its all i do.” you were fed up “darlin’ i-” Joel began but you cut him off with a welled up voice “no, Joel. honestly, in all seriousness what the fuck do you process on a day to day?” you were angry, you had a feeling of the things that possibly ran through his tough mind. you felt his demeanor tense up “excuse me? a fuckin’ lot actually. there is alot i have to do for my own survival and others including yours!” he retaliates agressively, causing you to tense up even more creating a bit of space between the both of you.

“you know i can handle my own, the only reason youre with me! so dont use that shit as an excuse to just leave and risk everything all the fucking time! just for once. stay!” you shout out, tears now dropping from your eyes in frustration and sadness. you got up, wanting to excuse yourself but Joel got ahold of your arm “what are you tryna say doll” he asks, looking at you deep with his dark eyes “I might aswell be in love with a dying man. thats how i feel.”

🫧

I'm in love with a dying man

I'm in love with a dying man

I'm in love, lying in the sand

I'm in love with a dying man

I'm in love with a dying man

I have done everything I can

#pedro pascal #pedrostories #pedro pascal is so hot im dying #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal stories #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller smut #joel hbo #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fandom #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut hours fuck #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x you #joel x reader

[spikeinthepunch]

i wanna say i hate to compare BG3 and DAI buuuuut you know they have similar intentions not including the combat system. theyre both high fantasy RPGs that focus on major story choices/consequences and making a protag that you can shape based on personality options, along with class/race specific effects on the way characters mold with you.

so. i think they can be compared, without any note of the technical advancements from since DAI came out of course.

and i say this just based on my current progress (i guess the first 'part'? i just got to the end of the druid grove stuff). i think the bg3 protag is fine! no issue there really, its different but i like what i can do. but i can feel the issues with romance in this game creeping up, as i had heard some things started before by others... that theres a very quick focus to romance. and honestly.... is it romance even at this starting point? immediately i am just asked about who i want to fuck. i like to fuck, i like the sexual relationships. but i can see where ppl may have their issues here.

on this first celebration with the party members, the woman who i helped do the raid with, who i literally dont know, before i even got to the party was like- i am talking to you in your mind and i want to fuck you in thanks for this. and she is the one character you can just fuck without any relation with. and then i talk to Astarion who is like, who do you want to fuck tonight lol? and even if i hadnt talked w him, every other character there except Gale had the option to suggest i wanted to fuck them. bro i hardly even know these guys still. i want to fuck astarion eventually and im glad he turned me down bc honestly why would he accept?. but shadowheart and laezel were totally up for it!!! and man i hard travelled with laezel bc i dont like her lol.

and listen i am sure i will get to learn way more abt these characters that i romance but the fact i am opened up to the sex option immediately is just. so strange when i compare it to the romances of DAI. i think i could take a few characters who just want sex. thats normal. not everyone wants commitment and i would actually like that nuance. but also, really putting the sex on so quick and so blatantly is a surprise to me even as someone who wants to have sex stuff all the time!! but i like good writing too! and i imagine its even more uncomfy for others who really didnt expect or want that. to just assume you character wants to have sex so fast is weird and the only other option denying everything (no implication you want just romance/are interest but dont want sex) is just wild to me too.

DAI has such well written romances. really. i saw ppl saying they were excited this game would blow bioware's romance writing out of the water but i dont think i can say that at all rn and im not sure this current impression will change enough for me to say otherwise entirely....

this also goes into why "everyone is bi" isnt always good. because i think it takes a lot of potentially personal weight out of the writing. not even in that if one character is gay then there will be oppression angst between them and you for being gay. or that the straight one will voice their straightness in context of gays existing in world. its about how "everyone is bi" isnt actually good, chosen bi rep. its just a game mechanic thrown in to satisfy all ends. we can have bi characters, we just cant have them all being labelled that in order to fill that check mark.

dorian is a really good example in DAI of how a character being strictly gay and also facing in world oppression makes his romance storyline SO good. its so important for sexuality labels to exist bc it makes you an individual of your own. and for it to be EXPRESSED in some form too. a character should be able to voice their thoughst on their unique sexuality when you romance them. but the 'everyone is bi just because' means like no character is every talking about that, let alone in a meaningful way when the reason applies to every other companion.

sorry did not mean for this to become a rant on romances. im still looking forward to the writing that will unfold with these characters but i think its so important to not get lost in the hype (and the hate to DAI? which i think is just hate to bioware really) bc people ALWAYS get to ahead of themself when they hear "you can romance anyone regardless of gender" without thinking twice about whether or not that makes it good writing or rep

[lemoneychicken]

you have a lot of guilt on your shoulders, but you dont want people to know that you have fears

#saints row #saints row 4 #saints row kinzie #kinzie kensington #saints row boss #johnny gat #blood #(my boss has aquaphobia) #(so thats what the part with everything filling w water was about) #long post #longpost #pt draws #boss

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly.  And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable.  This is home.  You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness.  Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream.  But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it.  Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault.  You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask.  Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression.  How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions?  You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense.  Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong.  You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room.  Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan.  As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you.  You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him.  You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest.  His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak.  You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out.  Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise.  Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet.  You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck.  You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed.  Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm?  No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that.  You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now.  You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter.  The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha?  No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up.  Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it.  “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers.  It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone.  “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound.  But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more.  Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince.  You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again.  If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs.  “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy.  Your voice is small and your words slur.  “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek.  Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this.  Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says.  You hear it.  You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange.  Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right.  It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now.  You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness.  You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed.  You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes.  Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep.  “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away.  “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy.  Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence?  Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close.  It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish.  Counting.  You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through.  Understanding words.  You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that.  Yep.  You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said.  Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that?  Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it.  Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery.  Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning.  You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay.  It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics.  You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed.  The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate.  Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat.  Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier.  No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point.  You need something newer.  Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened.  One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds.  You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression.  “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves.  Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection.  How many fucking…?  All this for just one person?  What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t?  They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming?  Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest.  A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan.  “Nope.  Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside.  You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood.  He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection.  He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster.  The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind.  His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib.  Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut.  You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck.  Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind.  You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all.  Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance.  There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay.  Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one?  Ah, yes, okay—safety, off.  Stance, find your stance.  There it is.  Alright, now lift.  Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up.  Hold.  Hold.  Hold.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!”  You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated.  What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what?  Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder?  Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope?  Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot.  It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here.  Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point.  Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah.  It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you.  “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger.  The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well.  Uh.  That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside.  Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow.  Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart.  In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing.  You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to.  Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay.  “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb.  Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold.  You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.  

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound.  Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back.  Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving.  Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently.  Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry.  You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm.  That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see.  He’s laying facedown in the snow.  There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him.  Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?”  You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him.  “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him.  You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath.  His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy.  You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet.  You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder.  You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning.  But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do.  You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold.  He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff?  The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up.  Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments.  The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again.  Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you.  The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold.  It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now.  Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly.  So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor.  You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore.  The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit.  Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t.  Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now.  Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct.  His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding.  “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now.  His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now.  Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time.  You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm.  Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore.  It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving.  No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up.  Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in.  Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears.  He’s warm, what else can you do for him?  Why is he not waking up?  “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet.  You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in.  He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment.  He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull.  He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up.  It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed.  You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents.  Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much.  You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off.  If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower.  You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means.  You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly.  Again, just in case.  “I’m not gonna look.  Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both.  He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating.  “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall.  You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold.  His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck.  Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless.  He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do.  The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing.  Slow.  Shallow.  Barely able to be felt against your neck.  He’s here but he’s not.  And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize.  But you have nothing to say.  After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore.  The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull.  You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it.  You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward.  You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it.  It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second.  A second where you dare to hope.  Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards.  You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present.  Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief.  “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers.  You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again.  You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that.  Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you.  He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking.  Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay.  The kid is okay.  Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether.  Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck.  Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why.  But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t.  You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no.  That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside.  You know this.  You know it’s there, and you know he needs it.  Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty.  You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there.  And you’re the only one awake.  The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself.  For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought.  Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push.  You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer.  Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck.  You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident.  You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to.  You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock.  You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece.  When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship.  The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing.  You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow.  You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse.  A dead body.  That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite.  Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s…  It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why.  It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way.  Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to.  You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still…  Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up.  The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving.  As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband.  When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There.  Halfway done.  You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him.  Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly.  Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite.  And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there.  With your hands, you have to grab it.  With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart.  If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din.  If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din.  He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what?  If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative.  It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another.  You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place.  The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes.  You’re done.  You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait.  Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other.  “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight.  You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.  

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now.  You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him.  The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you.  Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy.  Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions.  “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either.  He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible.  “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer.  “We’re in hyperspace.  Everything’s okay now, I took care of it.  We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding.  “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue.  “I took care of it.  You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His.  Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…”  His hands are trembling harder than his voice.  “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers.  “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip.  Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull.  You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.  

Fuck, you’re not expecting it.  You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all.  He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up.  You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head.  The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…”  Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit.  He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again.  “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time.  “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing.  His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight.  He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin.  “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words.  Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours.  But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension.  Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you.  Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it.  You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now.  “It’s okay.  Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.  

“How d-did you find me?”  He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him.  Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him.  “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back.  “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore.  In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting.  The alternative is unthinkable.  Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him.  “I raided your armory.  We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason.  Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet.  Breathing.  So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it.  You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest.  In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in.  It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?”  He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding.  No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back.  The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours.  It feels like it was ages ago.  An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding.  “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer.  It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that.  So now what is he going to say?  What is he going to say?  You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work.  Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add.  You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore.  His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize.  He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range.  Which means he wasn’t just joking around.  He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you.  You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice.  Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness.  “Why did you say that?  On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual.  Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you.  His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast.  “Earlier that day.  I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

“What?”  You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue.  “What did I say?”

“Something about…”  He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold.  “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth.  “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily.  “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity.  “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth.  You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real.  You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it.  You do mean it.  Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you.  Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him.  His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation.  There are, of course, millions of things left to ask.  But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions.  You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time.  Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift.  It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.  

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know.  Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know.  Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue.  You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before.  All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape.  “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost.  The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?”  You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet.  Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated.  “Ni, for I or we.  Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person.  Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter.  Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all.  If that’s true, it’s unbelievable.  How do they differentiate?  Just context?

“How do you distinguish?”  You ask him.  Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive.  I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it.  “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it.  “What do you mean?”  You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of.  “We abandon our names.  We become… whispers, of the same voice.  There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms.  Interchangeable.  Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication.  Almost all of them are homonyms?  How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point?  That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?”  You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now.  “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…”  You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it.  Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested.  “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale.  “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason.  Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.”  He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest.  “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck.  “No witnesses, no celebrations.  We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look.  It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival.  Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing.  To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore.  Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably.  The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder.  “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone.  “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.”  Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way.  The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory.  You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt.  Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion.  “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier.  You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face.  Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot.  Unmoving.  Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it.  “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you.  The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you.  The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it.  You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them.  It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though.  You’re still behind.  “You knew I’d say no?”  You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly.  Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either.  Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right.  If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly.  Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment.  “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following.  Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him.  Respecting them.  Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull.  So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time.  His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him.  You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue.  He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves.  You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you.  But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here.  In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #fanfic #star wars fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #no-droids #reader insert

[weaselle]

cooking for people who have no idea what they are doing (or are just, like, real depressed)

Okay, I’m a professional cook, but also, I get depressed. This is the cooking I do when I’m depressed, because I need the simplest path to a whole meal.

This is not for vegetarians, because, while I wholeheartedly support people choosing vegetarianism, and also enjoy cooking for vegetarians, for me, the simplest path to a meal includes meat. Perhaps when I am less depressed I will work on options.

A lot of recipes focus on achieving food that is in some way special, using special techniques, or using a precise list of carefully measured high-end ingredients... and that’s not this, this is all the parts of cooking that are not those things.

First, shopping

Meats Starches Veggies Sauces Breakfast/Snack

For a whole week you’re going to want

3 kinds of meat, with five portions each. So, for example, five chicken breasts, 10 sausage links, and 2-3 pounds of ground beef. Other possibilities include pork chops, salmon, some kind of steak, whatever. 

You’re going to want up to 3 starches. Honestly I usually stick to just rice, but you can go with rice, potatoes, and pasta. If you want to use quinoa or polenta or something, thats on you.

And, you’re going to want about 3 types of vegetables, again, about 5 portions each -- and try to stay green. So personally, I usually get 5 medium zucchini, 2 medium heads of broccoli, and then either yellow squash or mushrooms. A bag of salad greens is also a good option, and I have an easy way to make a good salad, which I will do as a separate post.

Next pick something easy that works as either breakfast or a snack. For me this is a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a bunch of bananas. Sometimes it’s nice to have an additional option here, like cereal or yogurt. 

Last, you’ll want 2-5 sauces in bottles. I would definitely recommend a low sodium soy sauce be one of them, and maybe a BBQ sauce for the other. I usually also include worcestershire and sriracha but go with whatever you want, teriyaki sauce, A1, whatever you know you’ll eat. Hell, you can use Italian style salad dressing as a cookable sauce if you really want.

Oh, and If you don’t already have some at the house, you’ll need pan lube: butter and/or some kind of cooking oil. 

Okay! we’re done shopping! Affordability isn’t the main focus here, but is undeniably important -- I live in a very expensive area, this shopping trip is going to feed me well for a week and costs me about $100 bucks. When I was living in Alabama, it probably would have cost me more like $70. You won’t need to get stuff like the sauce and rice and peanut butter every week, so you’re definitely looking at a monthly grocery bill of something like $300 depending on where you live, and that’s not too bad. 

Prep

hell no, I’m depressed, the only prep I’m doing is putting two packages of meat in the freezer and the rest of this stuff in the fridge. You CAN box or bag each portion of meat separately so you can really alternate what you eat -- me, I’m gonna eat chicken for two or three days, then beef for two or three days, etc.

and listen, don’t fuck around with microwave settings or running water on things to defrost them. If you package the meat all up separately, just move a portion from the freezer to the fridge each time you cook dinner. Or, if you do like me, move the whole package when you go to cook your last portion of the previous stuff, and just deal with the fact that it will probably still be a tiny bit frozen when you go to cook next.

Tip: When you cook dinner, you’re going to make enough for lunch. That just leaves you one small meal - I often smear peanut butter on a peice of bread and wrap it around a banana like a taco - fast, easy, practically no dishes, relatively healthy

____________________________________________________________

Cooking (this is going to take about 25 minutes)

You’re going to need

ONE frying pan, medium size w/ lid ONE boil pot, medium size w/ lid knife, a spatula and a cutting board.

If you want to be fancy, you can include a big spoon. Looks like this

No matter what the specific ingredients you’ve chosen, the basic format is going to be:

Start your starch heat pan, put meat in the pan flip meat and add veggies, cover with lid remove meat and add sauce finish starch put everything on a plate while it is still too hot to eat and you are standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the like, 4 dishes you’ve gotten dirty. eat.

Okay, before you even get everything else out, start your starch. For rice this means rinse the rice and put it in the cold water and set it on high heat, for pasta this means put your salted water on the stove on high heat. For potatoes, you can use my perfect mashed potatoes recipe (I’ll do that as a separate post) or, honestly, you can wait until you’re halfway done with the rest of everything and microwave the sucker for like 8 minutes. I would never do that in a restaurant, but trying to feed my lethargic depressed ass? Absolutely.

easy rice: Fill your smallest coffee cup with rice, put it in the pot. Rinse. Fill the same cup twice with water, add to rice. Bring to a boil, give a good stir, turn heat all the way down, put a lid on it for something like 15 more minutes.

Okay, now lube your pan. Butter, olive oil, whatever. You’re probably looking at an amount more than a teaspoon and less than a table spoon of whichever you use. Personally I try to use as little olive oil as possible, so I pour a large coin sized amount (a quarter in the U.S.) into the pan, ear off a piece of the paper towel I’m going to use as my napkin for the evening, fold it up tight, and sort of paint the oil around so a little goes a longer way.

Pan lubed? Great, turn your burner on. highest heat will work but is not ideal, medium heat will work better but is still not ideal. Halfway between the two is perfect for chicken, a little hotter for beef, a little lower for fish.

Now remove two portions of your chosen protein (that way you’ll have tomorrow’s lunch too). By the time you get the packaging open and stuff, your pan is probably hot. If it’s not, let it get hot. You don’t want the oil to start smoking (warning, butter will burn faster than oil) but if you shake a single drop of water off your finger into the pan, you want it to sizzle.

If your pan is hot, put your meat in. The more you do this, the more you’ll perfect the timing, but you’re going to cook it for ~about~ 7 minutes before you flip it, maybe a couple minutes longer if it’s chicken or pork, maybe a couple minutes less if it’s beef.

Now that your meat is in, prepare your veggie. Rinse it off, cut off any part of it you don’t want to eat, and then cut what’s left into pieces the size of a large bite. Don’t worry, it’s going to get a little smaller when you cook it. Take your time, you’ll probably finish in less time than the meat needs.

Time to flip your meat? Great. Do that, and then dump your chopped up veggie in the pan. It does not matter at all if the pieces are not touching the bottom of the pan -probably most of them will not be, a bunch will be on top of the meat, that’s fine.

Put a lid on it. Now add your pasta to the water, or put your potato in the microwave, or check your rice. If following my perfect mashed potato recipe, mash now.

Rice tip, checking: eat a grain, you want zero crunch. If it’s not done and there’s no liquid, add a splash of water and stir. It it’s done or close to done, but it is still very wet, give it a big stir and leave on the stove with the lid off for a couple minutes.

Your meat still has like, at least 4 minutes, so rinse off your cutting board and chef knife, get out a plate, table knife and fork.

 Meat done? Great. Take the meat out of the pan, leaving the veggies in. Add sauce to the pan. I like to also use a little wine, because it’s usually already in the house, if you have some and want to, pour a large swallow of wine in the pan with the sauce. I’ll often mix a couple sauces, like worcestershire and soy (makes something similar to teriyaki) or hot sauce and BBQ

Stir the sauce around with the veggies. This, called deglazing, is an important step for two reasons, 1: it will get up a lot of the flavorful stuff that has stuck to the pan and make your sauce better, and 2: it will make washing the pan much easier. Okay, put the lid back on for one to two minutes, maybe stir a couple times. Basically you want the sauce to stain the veggies.

Your starch should be done, turn off the burner, put a portion on your plate, and stick the rest in a ziplock or tupperware or something. Go ahead and throw the second portion of meat right in there with it. 

Turn off the stove and scoop the veggies onto the plate, and pour the sauce from the pan over everything.

Now, while it’s too hot to eat, and you’re standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the pot, pan, and spatula. It should be very easy because of the way you used the sauce and because nothing has had a chance to harden. This usually takes me about 2 full minutes.

__________________________________________________________

OKAY! it’s been 20-25 minutes, you’ve got dinner and tomorrow’s lunch (just add another cut up veggie, pour a different sauce on, and put it in the microwave for two or three minutes) AND there’s no danger of dishes piling up on you :) You can even add “washing last night’s plate and fork for use tonight” to where you rinse the cutting board to really keep it full circle.

It’s not gormet. It IS accessibly healthy, affordable, and easy.

If you are extra depressed, forget the starch and use more veggies; this cuts what little work there is by up to half

Using this format, you can have three good meals per day and only spend 30 total minutes a day in the kitchen — including clean up! (dishes piling up tends to exacerbate my depression and makes cooking your next meal harder)

And it’s easy to give yourself a wide variety, from soy glazed chicken, zucchini and rice one night; to steak, mushrooms and pasta the next; followed by BBQ pork chops, brocoli and potatoes... I suck at math but there’s probably a hundred options

Just to recap, because I know I was very detailed and this might seem overwhelming, once you read through the above to answer any questions you might have, simply

-Start your starch -lube & heat pan, put meat in the pan, about 7 minutes -flip meat, add veggies, lid, about 7 minutes -wash knife and cutting board -remove meat and add sauce to veggies, re-lid, 1-2 minutes -finish starch, refrigerate extra meat and starch  -put everything left on a plate -wash pot and pan -eat.

#cooking #food #depression meals

[shushiyuii]

if you're doing requests, than can I possibly ask for some G!revivebur and t!tommy hurt/comfort? (with soft noms involved if thats okay)

hope you're doing well today and i love your writing too

Thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writings! mwkdakdn and I've actually had a great day today! So thank you for asking! (Also of course noms are okay uwu)

Warnings: Soft vore, mentions of death and torment of a tiny

Words: 1.1K+

His train had finally arrived…

Meanwhile, Tommy was working on his base, being a borrower, it wasn’t quite as easy as you wish to get the materials needed.

He was exhausted from mining all day and now he just had to organise his chests, which was just another annoying task. Tommy huffed in annoyance at this, at least he had enough minerals to last him ages.

He hated organising his chests but if he did it would at least be easier to find things, as to why he was doing this millennial task.

Chest after chest, block after block, ore after ore. It was finally almost done. Just a couple more to go, he went over to another chest and found some… interesting things… It held his old L’manburg uniform and his flag, things he put away after Wilbur had well, died.

He picked up his old uniform and noticed something strange on it, it was stained with blue, covered in stitches. Alarmed he began to examine the uniform and there fell out a note, from Ghostbur.

“Hey, Tommy! I came to borrow some things and noticed your old uniform! I fixed it up for you! I know you said not to go through your stuff, but I figured you’d like it!” – Ghostbur

He huffed as the note itself was covered in blue, Ghostbur had a tendency of leaking his blue everywhere, It couldn’t be helped…’. He looked down and saw water beginning to seep at the pages, he wiped at his eyes.

He wasn’t going to cry! He was Tommy Danger Kraken Innit! A man! And men don’t cry!

It wasn’t his fault! It was Sam’s! He didn’t let him protect Ghostbur! It could’ve been stopped and now the only remnant of his brother is gone.

Gone to the afterlife, once and for all. Maybe his symphony could finally be at peace with everything being gone now, he could move on…

Little did he know that wouldn’t quite be the case as a thing popped right into his face, much to his hate and surprise…

‘Wilbur Soot has joined the game’.

He couldn’t be back, Dream really didn’t revive him right?! Wasn’t revival supposed to be immediate?! Whatever exhaustion was trying to take over his body was gone as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He immediately booked it through his door towards L’manburg.

His vision went from black to clear, he fiddled with his hands, finally becoming aware of his surroundings, the blue and gold catching his eyes with a torn L’manburg flag, with the crater in front of him. He pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t going crazy, and he wasn’t!

He was alive again with blood rushing through his newly revived veins! He was alive again! Dream his hero! He had really been brought back! He could feel his excitement jolting every part of his body, so many things to do and see, so many things to make amends for!...

Panic filled with thoughts rushed through his head, what would the others think? Oh god, back when he was dead himself, he remembered how Wilbur was… This is practically going to be doomsday all over again if he didn’t stop it.

He had never run so fast before, not even in the war. It seemed his body agreed with him this once that this was very very bad. And it wasn’t going to be an easy trip for the borrower. Every hole he jumped over, and soon L’manburg came into his view.

His fingers twitched, not used to being able to function. He could feel bruises over his body and particularly felt an aching pain from his chest, probably some remnant from the stab wound, but that wasn’t going to stop him out, now that he was finally free.

He breathed in the fresh air, taking a deep breath, and filling his lungs as much as he could. How he missed being able, you learnt to appreciate such things.

He closed his eyes in a sort of relief, happy, satisfied but this was only the beginning.

“Wilbur!”, he heard a voice, a familiar one. One he hadn’t heard in a while; he knew he was close not far. He was used to having to keep an ear out for the borrower, he was just surprised at himself he wasn’t rusty.

He turned around to see a small figure approaching, seeming to run with all they had, wow, Tommy must’ve really missed him!

Soon, Tommy was just a couple of meters away from Wilbur. Not one of them talked at first, “Hey Tommy! I missed you!”. Tommy’s expression turned somewhat dark, upset, grim. He titled his head in confusion and crouched down as much as he could.

“You shouldn’t be here.”, Wilbur snorted slightly, then turned to giggles and those giggles turned to psychotic laughter as he processed the point that Tommy just brought up, he wasn’t supposed to be here? “I’m not supposed to be here Tommy? What about you?”.

No answer came, he laughed again, “Oh, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.”. He brought a finger to Tommy’s face, gently squishing it. “Listen, I spent 13 and a half, 13 and a half years! IN THAT GOD DAMN HELL!”. The gentleness faded as he increased pressure on Tommy, causing Tommy to fall over from under the pressure and try to fight back.

The pressure lightened as he removed his hand, he was about to speak when he saw Tommy back away from him, he was confused for a minute.

But whatever it was, Tommy was mumbling and crying, flinching whenever he made a small movement. Usually, Tommy would be fighting back right now?

He put any other thoughts he had aside, “Tommy, what’s wrong?”. Sure, he might be cruel sometimes but that never stopped his older brother instincts. The boy cried louder. He cupped the boy into his hands and brought him closer to his face.

“Tommy, I’m here, what’s wrong?”, “I-, You-, Dream-, Can’t, S-scared”. He hushed the boy and nuzzled him, he flinched at first but soon reluctantly gave into the contact. It was clear to him that Tommy had changed drastically, more than he thought, he was traumatised. Who dared to hurt his little brother?

“Tommy, who?”, “Huh?”, “Who did it?”. He sniffled, “D-dream”. His eyes widened suddenly, a vision flashed of a tiny Tommy caught in an explosion, a memory from Ghostbur. He remained silent.

Without a word, he brought Tommy close to his mouth, gently placing him in. Tommy flinched as he was placed on his brother’s tongue, “W-Wil?”, “You’re safe”. He mumbled as he moved his tongue to coat Tommy, which then lead to tilting his head back and swallowing.

He traced his brother's descent with his finger, and soon felt him land in his stomach, he waited for his little brother to get tucked in and fall asleep, to which he did. Then he decided that he’d keep Tommy in there for a while, where he’d be safe.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #tw vore #shushi's writings

[rintarous]

fuckboy!osamu

[ masterlist ]

kageyama | kita | suna | tendou

oh everyone already knows

him and his brother are notorious for their reputation of being the school resident pretty boys

it was inevitable

he had the looks and everything else u dont have

and not to mention he’s a jock or a volleyball player lmao

bonus points: he can cook

so its safe to assume he knows how to win any woman’s heart

or the entire school population

like he got everyone by the palm of his hand

in all seriousness he did this whole fuckboy act as big joke

cs he wanted to mock his brother for doing this shit so seriously like its his job to be a fuckboy

osamu: are you doing this to pay rent?

atsumu: wha? what rent? we live with our parents??????

he even wonders why atsumu wont give the same energy to his studies and shit

“why don’t you have the same energy when doing your school works ‘tsumu?” he casually brings up as he was doing his homework unlike his brother who’s busy texting 5 different people at the same time

“fuck off ‘samu” his brother grumbles from his bunk (bottom bunk)

and now he’s stuck with all these little to no good people just wanting to fuck him for practically nothing  

so he gotta keep this act of being suave and shit but if you looked more closer in his eyes,,,, 

hes showing signs that he wants to fucking die 

literally and figuratively 

like he just wants to eat his food and go

without being mobbed by people

occasionally he’ll see someone cute and pretty and thats it

but a fuckboy gotta do what they gotta do yk??

by that i mean take them out on small dates

cs he doesnt see the point in fucking them

and like i said before, he doesn’t even take his reputation seriously lol

so in all fairness, he’d just take that “fling” out on dates and shit 

and then he lets the fling do its thing by falling for him 

and BAM!! he’s done w you

“next fling please” he laughs to himself, as if his flings are just some receipt you get from eating at a restaurant 

but all the fuckboy-ery of his ended when he began to take notice of you

like he noticed your lunch box had different fillings everyday

making his mouth water out of envy

like how??? do??? you?? make?? those?? weird??? looking?? shrimp?? look?? so?? appetizing????

anyway so,

obviously you knew about the miya twins’ reputation

you must be living under a rock if you didnt know who they were

but you being you, u just focused on making your lunch tasting good instead of drooling over those mediocre lookin dudes if you say so yourself

what you didn’t know is that you caught no other than miya osamu’s attention

JUST BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKIN BENTO BOXES LMFAOOOOO

one day osamu casually slid in your table looking at you with wide eyes

“hey” osamu greets politely

“at least this twin has manners” you thought to yourself as you stared right back at him in confusion

“did you need something from me?” you raised a brow at the grey haired boy

osamu shakes his head and points to your bento box of the day

“those look good. i want to try some” he says boldly, mouth watering staring at the golden brown tempura 

“sure” you pushed your bento box near him and he started eating

and boi i think he just fell in love with you on the spot

“A GIRL WHO CAN COOK?????” was basically the thought that was running in his head the entire time

so after that amazing lunch he had with you, he knew he had to get your contact so y’all can text each other abt recipes and what not

“hey this shit was amazing and i want to get your number so you can text me what your lunch is for the day so i can come up with something that could counter yours if thats okay?” osamu asked with his mouth full

“hey don’t talk with your mouth is full” you scold him playfully, grabbing your hanky and wiping those stray rice on the corner of his lips

OKAY OSAMU’S HEART RATE JUST WENT: ASHADKJAHAJK 

!!!!!!!!!!!!

so a few days pass by and y’all were just non stop texting each other food related shit

“hey wyd” - u

 “cooking onigiris, hbu?” - osamu

“OOH SHOW ME” - u

and y’all be having a blast doe cs osamu was actually rlly funny?? 

like his dry humor was top notch and made you choke in front of him too many times for him to count

and osamu was just dreamily staring at you while you almost die right in front of him like: mhmmmm thats my girl

wait

MY GIRL??????

yeah so at this point osamu got the hots for u bae 

like u’re all he thinks about

with the exception of food of course

i mean how could he not??

you can cook, you look pretty, you take his sarcasm to the next level and reply with something even more sarcastic?? all in one

and he was trying to think of a way to ask you out on a date but only one thing came to mind 

and that was to take a italian cuisine cooking class

LFMAOSJDISAJDAO

“oh yeah before i forget, i booked us to this italian cooking class i saw on the way home yesterday” 

and your eyes sparkles cs you absolutely love learning new recipes 

“omg??? i’m so excited!!” you giggled, feeling giddy

and osamu again,, just smiles dreamily staring at you 

but that had to be ruined by the school bell ringing meaning lunch was over :(((

“have to go now ‘samu. i’ll see you around” you waved goodbye to him as you rush to your next class

so the day finally comes

he picks you up at your house just like planned and before you know it you’ve arrived at the italian cooking class 

so it starts kinda slow like learning the basics and shit

and finally the good part, the part y’all make pasta

you two were having a blast on this lil class

like osamu making pasta puns here and there as you knead the dough

and thats where you start noticing how,,, c*te osamu is like,, was he always this playful?? 

“hey y/n?” osamu calls out

“yeah?” you turned your head to face him

“i’m feeling a little saucy” he wiggles his eyebrows making you burst out laughing

“You are tortellini awesome, ‘samu” you managed to hiccup in between laughs

making osamu smile so widely to the point his cheeks hurt

“This is pastably the worst pasta pun i’ve ever heard!” osamu points out

at this point you two were hysterical 

it was just too... punny ;) 

“I’m so gnocchi to have you” osamu suddenly quips up

“how so?” you smiled, while stirring the pot

“You are tortellini beautiful” he compliments, stroking a finger on your cheek making you blush intently

“how ramentic” you coo, giving him a kiss on the cheek

“Holy Cannelloni!“ osamu gasps, cupping the cheek you kissed

“i’m guessing this whole class was just a date to ask me out?” you chuckled, fixing up your dish

now it was osamu’s turn to blush

“That is tortellini accurate.“ 

#fuckboy!haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu x reader #osamu imagines #osamu scenarios #osamu headcannons #osamu x reader #osamu miya imagines #osamu miya scenarios #osamu miya headcannons #osamu miya x reader #miya #osamu #osamu miya

[kiss4kazu]

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks 

felix <3 

whew, okay. sweats. um 

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining. 

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz. 

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess. 

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion. 

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick. 

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard 

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.  

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that. 

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you. 

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that. 

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will. 

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona. 

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth. 

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god 

claude ! 

whew lord. 

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3 

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further. 

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery 

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg. 

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you 

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him. 

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much 

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles 

but he is human and despite how much of  a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it 

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual 

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey 

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc. 

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge. 

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d  get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest. 

i love him bye

dima 

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know 

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas 

 he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you 

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day. 

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying 

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao 

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out 

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving 

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO 

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god 

#fe3h #claude x reader #fe3h fics #fe3h requests #fe3h imagines #claude von riegan #claude imagines #claude scenarios #fe3h scenarios #fire emblem three houses #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri imagines #dimitri scenarios #felix fraldarius x reader #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius scenarios

[azucanela]

being zuko’s s/o would include hcs?

BEING ZUKO’S S/O [GENDER NEUTRAL!READER]

BEING KORRA’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O

SUMMARY: being zuko’s s/o from the confession to the weddin’ [say this but make it rhyme the way those singers do ya know]

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, very mildly implied nsfw, soft zuko, a dragon

A/N: these are gonna be extensive bc there is no scenario but if you want whole fics there are like 6342 zuko fics coming since everyone is a zuko simp. also wow this is really long um i hope its what you wanted!

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

you guys have probably known each other a long time, because homebody does not fall for just anyone, so if you become the object of his affections, you better feel HONORED. hehe honored 

i feel like it takes him a lot of time to actually accept his feelings for you are beyond platonic. the main reason he falls for you is probably your consistency in his life since thats something he tends to lack. like his mom? gone. his dad? kicked him out of the only place he ever knew. his life is filled with major changes so if you guys have known each other since childhood then consistency is key

once he realizes he likes you he kinda panics because what if you don’t accept him? what if you leave? even worse, what if you leave because he likes you? so now he’s panicking, and naturally, as one does, Zuko avoids his problems. You, being the problem. And his emotions, but he is in denial so

definitely talks to his uncle about the two of you A LOT, especially when he is first figuring out his feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them

his uncle is an elite wingman, constantly tries to get the two of you to be alone in the same space or get information out of you in regards to you

when it comes to confessing i can see a few situations

situation one is that zuko confesses completely by accident, freaks out, disappears, avoids you even more, like homie is a mess. after you get fatally injured, or maybe when he thinks you are asleep, or he just kinda blurts it out in conversation when you guys are doing something domestic. regardless, it is entirely by accident, and now zuko is freaking the heck out. 

“i really like this tea.”

“i really like you.”

“excuse me-”

“i goTTA GO FEED MY DRAGOn Y/N!”

“you don’t have a dragon!”

so that’s how zuko gets his dragon from LOK, storytime over

you kinda have to find him and get a word in before he runs off because he is really scared of rejection, he doesn’t want you to leave and assumes that if the situation is never addressed then you can’t leave woohoo problem solved. 

his uncle yells at him lol

when you corner him you gotta confess super fast and handle his anxieties because he is super worried about you hating him now even though it is the opposite. 

“please don’t leave me.”

“i’m not gonna leave my boyfriend.”

“your- your what?”

“we are dating now. i like you, you like me, so we are dating.”

situation two is equally chaotic, but far less dancing around the feelings since you confess! congrats! you have more balls than me! im so proud! good job bb!

when you confess, its probably late at night, a comfortable silence between the two of you, or maybe he’s ranting about something, like how dumb the concept of tea is idk. regardless this is DOMESTIC, so it’s soft and cute and you are just like you know what screw it this nerd is so easily flustered by me maybe he likes me back! look at us cuddling like a couple! might as well make it official!

zuko.exe error, not working

you broke him good job. 

he externally panics and internally congratulates himself while panicking. he is very shocked you feel that way for him because he is an oblivious boy. 

“honestly, i don’t understand why my uncle likes those flavored water leaves so much-”

“i don’t understand why i’m in love with you.”

“WHAT.”

if y’all were cuddling on a bed or smth he THROWS YOU OFF BY ACCIDENT SKJDHJFHKHWJKF oopsie, he just gets up so quickly that you kinda go tumbling.

homie literally asks you why so naturally you gotta start listing all of these reasons why because hes like perfect and beautiful and yeah we all love him a lot :D marry me zuko <3

you gotta give him a hot minute to process all the information you just gave him, he is in shock for a short while, kinda just sitting there confused. once it gets through his thick skull that you like him he’s gonna thank you 💀

then he’ll ask you how you wanna handle this and boom you have a boyfriend now good job! 

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

dating during a war is hard so when y’all first start dating, probably towards the end of the war when he finally joins the Gaang, its gonna be really chaotic and you guys are still gonna be sorting through everything, like what kinda couple do you wanna be? neither of you know

kisses are rare during this time, especially since zuko is a generally private person who doesn’t really do PDA much, especially since he wants to avoid teasing and judgement from others. he’s a real people pleaser at the end of the day, he literally spent three years of his life looking for someone the world thought just disappeared permanently because he wanted his dad’s validation.

when you two do kiss, it tends to be a night in your shared tent, even then Zuko is weary of Toph’s seismic senses.

his kisses tend to be soft and sensual, he really just wants to take his time and enjoy it. however, bb does have a temper so you can expect some spice on occasion when he gets frustrated.

this comes later on in the relationship, once the war is resolved, but that just brings about new problems! like having to deal with the new fire lord who is always busy as your boyfriend!

especially at the beginning, when he’s newly crowned and everything is busy and new and he’s struggling with being organized, he rarely has time for you. however, you are likely his right hand, main advisor, general, whatever your area of expertise is he will find you a position in the castle, unless you tell him you want to stay out of politics. though, deep down, he wants to give you a position so he can spend time with you

once things calm down and he’s got being fire lord in the bag, he starts blocking in time during his day to actually take you out on dates and stuff

at one point just disappears for the whole day with you and everyone thinks he’s been kidnapped until they realize you aren’t around either

that’s not very responsible of you guys smh you have a nation to run 

is soft with you, though zuko’s temper definitely lessened when he became Fire Lord, but it no doubt shows itself sometimes, but never with you

well need your assurance sometimes because he gets insecure

like why is the beautiful amazing intelligent woman dating me i do not understand what the heck why have you not left me yet

knock some sense into him

also gets worried that he is a horrible ruler and wants you to tell him that he in fact does his job very well

did you forget you helped end a war zuko?

kiss. his. scar. give him love, its one of few physical parts of himself that he is insecure about and if you kiss him there he might start crying because wow intimacy didn’t know what that was

speaking of intimacy, he is a touch starved boy so when you start giving him love do not stop, never deprive him of cuddles he gets grumpy

lol play volleyball with him

very domestic??? like his parents highkey did not like eachother so now he just wants to hold your hand, lay with you in the morning, wake up to your pretty face, and just cuddle with you while you read aloud 

overall you two are a power couple and zuko simps for you 25/8 you rule as a team and he values you and your opinion VERY much, tries to take you out as often as he can despite his VERY demanding job, and expresses his love to the best of his ability

MARRIAGE N STUFF

zuko took the throne YOUNG he was like 16, so he is not proposing until y’all are at least adults, but i imagine that he is probably gonna wanna date you for like at least three years before proposing

he wants to make sure you are there to stay even if you’ve been around since childhood

there are two ways he is gonna propose here

situation one is where he kinda just does it,,, randomly? like out of nowhere he realizes that w o w he wants to marry you, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and dedicate everything to you because you are HIS forever person

so he’s kinda just laying with you in the morning, nice soft kisses here and there, will not let you leave the bed and you are definitely complaining, especially if you have a position in the palace and need to get to work

regardless its a soft moment, there’s light filtering in through the window in your shared room, and its shining on your face, and yeah you are lowkey a mess because its the morning but you are just,, so,, beautiful??

and you start telling him about your plans for the, playing with his hair and stuff, and he’s listening to his heartbeat when he breaks from your hold and looks up at you and is just like

“marry me.”

“we also need to feed your dragon- wait what”

you are kinda just in shock for a moment, so you sit up and look at him, mouth gaping open like

“are you serious?”

he suddenly realizes he doesn’t have a ring and it is 7AM in the morning and it is not the best time for this

“...yes”

now you are laughing, falling back onto the pillows, and maybe there’s a tear in your eye as you nod rapidly, “okay, yes.”

now you are thinking of the fake story you are gonna tell people when they asked how he proposed because you are NOT saying it was in bed at 7AM while you were looking like a whole mess

“yes? yes as in yes you will marry me? are you serious?” 

such an idiot, but he’s cute its okay

you kiss him and its passionate and adorable, and he kisses back but he quickly breaks apart and is like “you’re sure? because i don’t have a ring-”

“how have you successfully run a country.”

“good thing you are gonna join me on the throne i suppose.”

“oh my god you’re right-”

“you aren’t reconsidering are you?”

“NO.”

have fun being the fire god woo

now y’all go back to making out and traumatize whatever advisor comes to check on you because they’re like where are the people who rule this country??? 

situation two is where he has been carrying around the ring for MONTHS but is looking for the perfect time to propose because you are perfect so this must be perfect

he couldn’t sleep and in the middle of the night he was like WELP I WANNA GET ENGAGED and kinda just decided he was gonna marry you

since you were asleep he couldn’t ask you right then and these

confides in the gaang and everyone is super excited

now he’s been walking around with this ring for months and what is he supposed to do now oh god

the gaang is like stop procrastinating bro, just ASK HER, and hes like NO IT NEEDS TO BE PERFECT

they help him set up the palace courtyard and make it all nice, there are lanterns, and candles, and a path of rose petals, and this time around he does have a ring so yes its great

he’s like hey let’s go for a walk! and you’re like okay??? lol

so you two are walking around the palace, holding hands, when he leads you to the courtyard and you are just like DAMN this is romantic AND pretty

“i think we are interrupting Zuko let’s leave”

“what do you mean interrupting-”

“well someone clearly put in a lot of effort!”

“that someone is me!”

:O

its not that he isn’t romantic its just that he’s never done something like this so now you’re confused

“did i forget our anniversary?”

“no.”

NOW you understand, looking around, you turn back to him to find that he’s on one knee, you two are in front of the pond with the turtleducks and wow it must be raining why is there water on your face? haha...

he tells you he loves you and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and how he hopes he never loses you because you are just so vital to his life and his being and everything he’s done to make this world a better place has been for you and damn zuko you wonder if he got possessed

obviously you agree

and obviously something goes wrong

when he stands you tackle him with a hug and you two fall into the pond

oops 

the wedding[disclaimer: i have never been to a wedding so i do not know what happens in weddings, feel free to educate me pls] is either REALLY intimate and private, or really big and stuff, since you gotta go through that whole coronation process now and like public weddings n stuff

no matter what his uncle is the one who walks you down the aisle.

change my mind.

you cant. 

the intimate one is almost similar to eloping, probably happens in the court yard where he proposed, and you are wearing a AMAZING outfit, whether its a tux, an amazing dress, a jumpsuit, you gonna look FIRE

hehe fire

anyways it’ll probably be the people who fought with him in the war, the gaang, the white lotus, kyoshi warriors, maybe a few others, 

its a really nice ceremony, and the courtyard is decorated so beautifully, though Zuko considered putting a fence around the pond considering what happened when he proposed lol

if its a more public wedding, then its going to feel like the entire Fire Nation came to watch y’all get married, much more flashy, there’s a band performance, a banquet, y’all gotta use the ballroom so that everyone can dance 

kinda nerve wracking ngl

regardless, after you two get married nothing really changes because you always acted like an old married couple, and even as the other ruler of the fire nation, you always had an important job in the palace so its kinda just the same but more official

its a vibe

moral of the story is zuko is a simp for you and your marriage is mutual simping, that is all

A/N: i kinda went off ngl, also im about to hit 200 followers and i feel as though i should do something special so i am taking suggestions pls

taglists[lmk if you wanna be added or removed :D]

zuko: @shawni-h @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @outerxorbit

permanent: @chewymoustachio

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko headcannon #zuko headcannons #zuko x reader headcannons #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x y/n #zuko atla #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #atla zuko x reader

[fruitymimi]

i’m crazy but you like that - aizawa x reader

wheww its mafia!aizawa fucking his rivals girlfriend... thats all i gotta say... 

warning: N*FW CONTENT!! degradation, sex w/o condom, GUN PLAY, aizawa is really rough lol, lots of name calling, he calls the reader useless a couple times-

pairing: aizawa x female reader

word count: 2362

a/n: the first yandere!hawks chapter will be out soon, i just need to edit a bit & make sure i like it <3

“Using his own girlfriend as bait… How pathetic..” Aizawa mumbled as he walked into the room. She was sitting in a chair, her hands tied behind her back and her legs strapped to the chair. “How much d’you think they’d pay to have their pretty girl back? Maybe… two million? Ah, I forgot they didn’t value you much… Maybe it’s because you’re useless.” Aizawa stood in front of her, his hands tucked into his suit pockets.

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I’m not useless!” She yelled at him, turning her head when Aizawa reached out to grip her chin. He forced her to look at him, staring down into her eyes.

“They damn sure weren’t keeping you around for your brains, princess. I think they treated you like eye-candy. I mean, I don’t blame them, as pretty as you are..” Aizawa kneeled in front of her, slowly blinking up to catch her gaze. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me everything you know about him and his gang and I’ll consider letting you leave. You can flee town, start a new life, I don’t give a shit. Or…” he trailed off, turning his head to tell his men to leave the room. He watched them walk out, closing the door behind themselves.

“Or..?” She was growing impatient and desperately wanted to get out of the chair she was bound to. “I’ll tell you whatever you want, just let me out of this chair.” She begged, watching Aizawa walk behind her.

“Promise to be a good girl?” He teased, pulling at a few strings to loosen the ropes. Aizawa watched as she got up, instantly fixing her dress. She reached down, her hand finding her thigh garter but.. Something was missing? Her eyes went wide as she looked up at Aizawa.

The long haired man let out a chuckle. He gave her a fake pout, twirling her own shiny gun between his fingers. “You don’t think I’m that fuckin’ dumb, do you?” Aizawa asked, “you tried something like that… On the Eraserhead? I was right, your little crew surely wasn’t keeping you because you were smart, kitty. And what did you think your stupid itty bitty gun was gonna do? Hurt me?” Aizawa said in that mocking voice, the one that just taunted anyone who heard it. He threw the gun behind himself, tucking his hands back into is pockets.

She bit down on her lip, her hands a bit shaky. Aizawa just stared at her, waiting for her to make her next move. Finally, he’d gotten bored of waiting after about 15 seconds into the silence. He walked over to her, towering above her. She swallowed, knowing she had one choice left. Fight him.

She reached out to punch him in his jaw, but he caught her wrist before it hit him. “And they didn’t teach you how to fight? Baby, you’re just making this too easy for me.” He bit down on his lip, “they sent their stupid little bimbo out to fight me & didn’t even train her. Could have used your dumb little sandstorm quirk against me, but we both know who would make it out alive. I know all about you, Y/N.” Aizawa belittled her, a smirk plastered on his face,

Her breathing grew heavier and heavier as she looked the man in the eyes. She always knew how gorgeous the mafia leader was. Something about him towering over her like this made butterflies flutter in her tummy.

“As I was saying,” He said. He could see her watching his lips as they moved, his tongue darting out to lick the bottom one, “you could stay with me, be like my pretty little trophy, we take down that fucker’s group, I give you everything you want… including revenge… and everybody’s happy. How’s that sound?” His eyes flashed red as he stared down at her.

She bit down on her lip, “I’ll do it.” She told him, feeling his arms let her go. She watched him walk over to the chair she was previously seated in, sitting down with his leg on top of the other. 

Aizawa pouted his lips. “How do I know you’re not fucking with me, Y/N?” Aizawa asked her, reaching into his suit pocket. He pulled out his silver pistol and his hankerchief, slowly wiping it down while maintaining eye contact with her. “I don’t want to have to do something to you that we’ll both end up regretting, darling.” 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to believe me… I.. I want to work with you instead of him.” She told him, her eyes darting down to his hands working on his gun every so often.

“Finally realizing how much of a dick he is, dollface? Come here.” Aizawa beckoned her over with his finger, “on your knees for me, sweetpea.” Aizawa tugged his phone out from his pocket, turning to his camera. “Open that pretty mouth for me..” he whispered.

She did as he said, sticking out her tongue and opened her mouth. He gently slid the barrel of his gun between her lips, smiling softly. “Move your tongue around it and look pretty for the camera. I want to show him that his bitch’s got her mouth wrapped around my gun like it’s my cock.” he snapped a few pictures, smiling from the outcome. “And look at you, acting like a slut already… Your drool’s all the way down to my fingers… Does he not fuck you right? Is that why it took so little to have you all flustered and drooling?” Aizawa chuckled, his free hand gripping at her chin. “I want you to do the same thing, just with my cock inside of that gorgeous mouth. I wanna see your lips stretched around my dick and I want to hear you gag.” he said in a whisper. 

She moved her hands to his pants, unbuttoning them as she kept eye contact with the long-haired man. She pulled down his boxers, her mouth instantly watering at the sight of his thick cock. She wrapped her lips around his tip, slowly beginning to swirl her tongue around him, paying attention to his slit. Aizawa took in a sharp breath, his hand tangling in her hair. He moved her head up and down, he bit his lip, his eyes closing at the feeling.

“Look at you… Sucking my cock like the good girl you are… What a fucking slut.” He laughed at her, running his tongue against his bottom lip. “I want to hear you fucking. Gag.” Aizawa finished his words with a thrust of his hips. 

Her eyes clamped shut, choking around his length like he’d asked. “Good fucking girl… I love cutting off these pretty airways, especially since you give me those pretty eyes, all teary and cute… If you want to breathe, kitty cat, just say something. Oh. Wait.” He chuckled, thrusting his hips a couple more times before pulling her head up by her hair to give her air.

She looked up at him with hazy vision, gasping for air. He opened his phone again, snapping a few photos of her pretty face. “I’m gonna send these to your stupid boyfriend. Make sure he knows what his little bitch is up to, hm?” He typed in the man’s number, pushing the send button after he’d pushed the photos he wanted to send. “What do you think he’s gonna think, baby? Think he’s gonna get all pissy cause his pretty slut’s about to open her legs for me? Or is he a cuck? He probably would love to see his whore spread and stretched around my cock.” he mumbled.

She nodded her head, biting down on her lip. “Please fuck me, Eraser… I want to feel you inside of me, I’ll be your good girl.” She begged, wiping off her chin. She gave Aizawa those eyes she knew he loved, perking up for him when he smiled.

“Since you asked so nicely, princess.” Aizawa patted his lap after he slid off his pants. “Let me lift that pretty dress for you,” he ran his hands up and down her curves, planting kisses against her soft skin. He sat her in his lap when he got her dress off, spreading her legs. He pressed his fingers against her lips. “Open your mouth, get them wet so I can play with that pretty pussy of yours..” Aizawa said to her, staring at her lips when she slid her tongue against his two fingers. He took in a sharp breath through his gritted teeth, trailing his fingers down to her clit. “Beg for me to slide them in, kitty cat..”

“Please. I want you to get me all nice and ready to take your cock… I’ll be your good girl, just fuck me with your fingers, please..” She whined, watching his fingers disappear into her, instantly curling to find her g-spot. She threw her head back, a moan falling from her parted lips.

“Yeah.. Pretty kitty’s already a slut for me… All whiny and cute. I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He licked a stripe up her neck, biting down on the skin. The sound of her moans filled his ears, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the sounds of her begging and whining for him.

She grinded her hips against his fingers, letting out a cry when his fingers pressed against her g-spot again. She could feel a knot forming in her stomach already, her breath becoming more and more labored as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. “Eraser..” She whispered, her hand gripping at his wrist.

Aizawa hummed, opening his eyes to look down at his own fingers. “Princess already gonna cum..? How pathetic.” he said to her, “Cum all over my fingers. The faster you cum, the faster you can get this cock into that pretty pussy, yeah?” He quickened his fingers, watching her pretty face crumble as she clenched around his fingers. 

She arched her back, gripping onto his arm tighter. She felt her orgasm rush over her, curses and moans falling from her lips as she clenched her eyes shut in pleasure, her hip movements coming to a stop. Aizawa just slowed down his fingers, watching her twitch and writhe in his lap.

“I can’t wait to get that pretty pussy around my cock… Are you ready, kitty cat?” He asked her, pulling his fingers from her cunt, moving her hips to angle her right above his dick. He slowly pulled her hips down, letting her sink onto him. “You’re so fucking tight, Y/N… I want to fuck you with my pistol pressed against that pretty chin… would you like that, slut?” he asked her, pressing the barrel against her chin.

Y/N parted her lips as she began to bounce her hips up and down against him, feeling him hit that special spot with each thrust. She was in pure ecstasy as he fucked into her. “Tell me, baby. Is my cock better than his? I et her couldn’t make you feel like this. First time you’ve ever been used like a good slut, isn’t it? You’re a cockdumb whore and I can tell. Just another pretty bimbo who just wanted to get fucked..” he laughed, pushing the barrel a bit harder against her skin.

She nodded her head, biting down on her lip. “I’m your cockdumb whore.. I love feeling your cock. He never fucked me this good… I love the way you fuck me, Eraser..” She whimpered, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, falling out when she closed her eyes.

“Yeah? Prove it. Fuck yourself against my dick.” He said, letting her hip go, using that hand to grip at her hair. He tugged it back, making her lean against his chest. He smiled, licking over the bite marks he left before. “You look so pretty when you cry and my gun’s pressed against your chin… Wish I fucked you sooner, didn’t know you’d look that pretty with a cock fucking into you…”

She moved her hips faster, her eyes crossing as she listened to what he said. “You’re gonna make me cum, again…” She whimpered. She could feel him standing up, turning her to face him. She gripped his arms, a shaky breath leaving her lips.

“I’ve got you… Wrap your arms around my neck and let me do all the work, princess. I changed my mind. You’re so pretty and obedient, I’ve got to fuck you..” He whispered, gripping the bottoms of her thighs. He began to thrust his hips into her , watching her face crumble from all the pleasure.

Aizawa breathed out, looking at her eyes. “You wanna cum for me, pretty slut? Then do it. Cum all over this cock. Claim it as yours, baby.” Aizawa said, angling his hips to ram into her g-spot. 

Her eyes crossed, hips stuttering against Aizawa as she felt her second orgasm of the night take over her body. She laid her head against his shoulder, “You’re so… So fucking good…” She whined out, the over-stimulation making her cunt throb against him.

Aizawa nodded his head. “You’re such a good girl, letting me use that pretty body of yours… I want to cum in your mouth. Make you know that you’re mine..” He said, gently placing her down on the floor. She sat herself up on her knees, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out.

She wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it above her tongue. She desperately wanted to taste him, the thought of his cum coating her tongue made her flick her wrist even faster than she was before, maintaining eye contact with Aizawa. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum..” He whispered, throwing his head back as he released, doing what he said he would do. She licked against the slit, getting everything off of him. “Good girl… cleaning up the mess like a good little bitch… You’re so perfect..” He breathed, a smug smile on his lips as his eyes clenched shut from the feeling.

“You’re mine, kitty cat..”

#aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta smut #smut #bnha smut #eraserhead smut #aizawa x reader #female insert #aizawa shouta x reader smut #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut

[lemongogo]

I FEEL THE EXACT SAME WAY ABT KNY,, the gotouge handled the relationships and tied them in will with character introspection is so,, melancholic ??? idk how to describe it but smtimes the story feels like a dream sequence and it hits right in ur heart,,, yknow when yuuichiro was like the mu in muichiro is the in in infintiy,, i laid down and cried lmao but anywyas PLEASE continue to share ur thoughts as u re read its really nice to see that im not the only one going crazy over this..

ok hi sry this was the msg where i i had so much written and stuff but by now ive forgotten like 90% of the shit i just talked abt and the thought of typing it out again makes me sad so i think im just gna paraphrase it the best i can im so sry 😭😭

but YEAH.. no exactly , melancholy is suchhh a good descriptor of how the manga feels. that and saudade , for how its almost like . ig nostalgic isnt exactly the right word to use, but bittersweet, maybe, about things u Wish you knew more about / had more time to interact with.

gotouge does such a great job of evoking emotion w their work imo. while single lines & panels collectively amount to big themes and such, i feel like they maintain a lot of influence on their own. lots of these scenes work well as standalone pieces , no matter how small or simple, and its so special to me :-) !!

&& im so happy u brought up muichirou's story bec omfg yeah tht was so sad i cried my eyes outAHAHA. that or genya's "shinazu means immortality" line .wtf......withers away.god . its soo good . but YEAH W MUICHIROU, i feel like his arc perfectly encapsulates how well gotouge utilizes emotion and threads these stories together, bit by bit.

THISS sequence is soo good bc i like how tanjirou's compassion is what kickstarts muichirou's backstory. and while thats a common theme for most of the characters, it's always unique in how it affects them/progresses the story. especially in this instance, where tanjirou's encouragement manifests from suppressed memories of mui's father

like omg . i love the eerie stillness of this page . how the dialogue is obviously referencing some (at the time, unknown) memory, and how that disbelief is visually represented by the way he's suspended in the water. everything slows down around this moment, it's so pretty. so calm and quiet as mui cycles through his final thoughts. i like how his mist breathing ties into his amnesia and how its imagery is specific to these moments (as w the pic below)

what rly stands out though is that . through all of this, muichirou admonishes his own weakness and sees it as a detriment or character flaw. something to be avoided. but its weakness, kotetsu's weakness specifically, that saves him in the end

its so small and so like. normal in comparison to the hashira's breath techniques, that its simplicity gives it power.

this panel ^ is one of my favs for that exact reason. its soo.. soo!!!!!!! oifdjjgd i love it so much. like i love how it ties back into kny's theme of like . finding strength in weakness. kotetsu is just a normal character all things considered but its through his willpower that muichirou survived; he didn't need any special technique or trick up his sleeve. it all goes back to what rengoku says abt the quality of human nature

or the conversations tanjirou shares with genya

i admire it soo much i love that kny operates on these emotions, and even more so the ones that are typically considered as "less than ideal". love and kindness are motivational, but they're not exclusive. anger, grief, weakness, etc. all have the immense power to bring people together and they hold with them important qualities of their own.

it just flows so well. i like how the same few panels can lead into many different trains of thought. for i see this and i think about rengoku and the principles he shared. i think about genya, kagaya, muichirou, nezuko, etc. i think about how intertwined all of these stories are. how tanjirou represented the person mui's father was, who muichirou wanted to be, and ultimately tried to become

and i like how they culminate in later parts of the story, especially ch.204

AHH idk i think sometimes i look too deep into it / assign meaning where perhaps there is none but. its not something i really get from other series, so im happy gotouge fills that specific niche. for u and i at least !! and thank u for listening to me as i go through it all again AAA it makes me so excited to talk about in detail, and its even nicer knowing u feel the same way about all of it. im rly happy you liked it and i hope u enjoy the rest of the seasons as they roll out 🥺️

#no but u sending ths made me so happy #thank uu :( u are so kind aaaaaaaaaaaaa omg... #i didnt kno how 2 respond 4 the longest time bc i felt like tht pic of zenitsu crying #HADHAKJHAKJH #kny #kny spoilers #kny 117 #kny manga #muichirou #tanjiro #asktag #anonymous #happy tag #kotetsu

[lunaekalenda]

Congratulations on your milestone!! I'd like to request 👄🚗���� (or maybe trajicomedia not sure there 😅) for Levi, Reiner and Zeke pls 🥺💘 there is not much content for the monke and can you pls end the five with fluff please. Hope u have a great day!!!

ofc! i hope you like it and thanks for requesting on my event! 

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enemies to lovers + modern au + romantic tragicomedia feat Levi, Reiner and Zeke.

w: maybe implicit sex mentions on zeke's, nothing important.

a/n: the starting of the one shot is the same for the three characters, but the ends change!! also i’m not gonna lie, i wrote the tension scenes listening to the gerudo valley theme from the legend of zelda: ocarina of time lol also, on zeke's end i took the prompt that they already make uo with esch other but they have a playful hate (like fake rivality)

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Your university’s debate team is recognized everywhere. It’s a really prestigious one, and you, as its captain, are always praised by other professionals. Since you’re captain, you have won against a lot of teams from different universities and even different countries, but you never won against the team that Levi Ackerman commands. 

“Isn’t this the Ackerman team?” Pieck asks, showing you a piece of paper. Your university is called to participate on a debate night on the south of the country. And your rivals that night is Levi’s team. 

Even when you never compite against him, you know him too well. He used to be in the same high school as you, leading the debate team since he’s just a teenager. He doesn't know you since you two never talked. The day comes fast and you’re looking through the window, with Pieck sitting on your side seat and Porco looking through the space between the two seats, that way he can speak to you two. He looks unamused. “Is that team that good? I only hear good comments towards us.” Zeke nods from the teacher's seat.

"Yeah, and guys, we're going to mash them and take the trophy home"

"But they're older?"

“They are older. Not a lot, maybe a year, but they play on another league” you say. You’re quite nervous, this encounter will maybe decide the future of your team. If your team wins, you’ll be officially the best debate team among your country’s universities. You have to win this. 

The place were you all stay is big and comfortable. You share a room with Pieck in the first floor, while Reiner and Porco have to share the other upstairs. You can hear how Porco curses and Reiner announcement of “Uno” while they play cards. Zeke is probably smoking outside.

“I think I’m going for a shower” You nod and Pieck gets all her things, heading to the public bath downstairs. You put a sweater on top of your clothes and go outside to explore a bit. Your team is pretty good, and they all follow your commands. Except Reiner. He wanted to be the leader so bad... He has kinda rivalry towards you since you got the title of leader. He has been bittersweet about it. 

The gardens are really pretty, with a huge fountain in the middle. There you see Levi, talking to a blonde man, looking at him with maybe concern. You can’t really tell since they are far and the water that falls from the fountain difficults your vision. They are talking, but you can’t hear about what. The blonde man moves and you see the card hanging from his neck. He is a professor.

You turn around and make you way back silently, trying to not grab their attention in any way. You don’t want to meet Levi, you’re sure you’ll feel intimidated and you want to make Reiner know that you’re totally valid as a leader.

Wait, then, shouldn’t you show Levi you have no fear into competing against him tomorrow? Isn’t it what a leader makes?

You turn around again and walk towards the two boys. Levi sees you first. 

“Y/N?” he asks. Does he remember your name? You nod once you’re near them.

“Sorry for interrupting your conversation.” You look between the black haired and the blonde man, who’s smiling politely at you. You can read his name on his card: Erwin Smith.

“Don’t worry!” he smiles. You hear how Levi sighs. “So you’re the captain of the other team, aren’t you?” You nod.

“Yes, Smith.” He laughs quietly and shakes his hands in front of you.

“No, please. You can call me Erwin.” He says. You nod, understanding.

"Are you and your team ready for tomorrow?" Levi asks. You nod quietly. If Reiner was the leader, he for sure would be intimidating and making them see you're not afraid to compite towards them. You smile.

"I wanted to comprte towards your team. It's one of the strongest."

"The strongest, actually." the teacher corrects you, wining a bad look from the boy. He clicks his tongue. "You should go and sleep, y/n" he says. "There's a long journey tomorrow." you nod and, bowing to the teacher and nodding to the boy, you leave the place.

When you arrive, Pieck was already there.

"Nice to see you, y/n. Porco has invited us to have dinner!" she says. That's why she is dressing so good. "Come on, let's go!"

The two boys are already sitting when you arrive. Porco smiles at you two while Reiner looks to another place, without making eye contact with you. For your bad luck, the only chair left is in front of him. Pieck invites you to sit. She thinks your rivalry with him is just a childish thing. But he's the one that doesn't want to admit that you're also a good leader. You sit and look at the menu as if it was the most important thing ever.

"Hey, cap!" Porco calls you. "Did you saw the other team? Aren't they scary?" he says. You shake your head.

"Actually I talked a bit to them. They're nice."

"But they are the rivals." Reiner interrupts. "Making new friends?" he asks. You don't know why the sweet Reiner became this cold towards you just because of a fucking captany. You wanted everything back.

"Reiner could you accompany me outside?" you ask. He looks at you.

"The waiter is here, sit down." Pieck says.

"We'll talk tomorrow. After the debate."

The dinner was a little awkward but Pieck filled it with jokes and support for tomorrow. Porco and Reiner went back to their dorm and so you did. Tomorrow, the debate was going to be intense.

That evening, you were sitting on a huge auditorium, on top of the stage, on four chairs with your university logo on them. In the other team, Levi was accompanied by three more people: a person with glasses and a ponytail, a tall and blonde boy and a short-haired girl. That was his team. Zeke, now accompanied by the blonde man, shows his thumbs to you.

"Let's start the debate night! Levi, do you think we should keep teaching civic valuations on the universuty?"

The debate goes fast. Their arguments easily get rid of yours. It is difficult to win, and even more with that girl on their team. Petra. She's fast and smart, as much as her captain. You were also out of arguments, defending that you should not learn more civic values was really hard. Thats how you lost.

Reiner's end

You took a shower after the debate. You sigh with all the water running down your body.

"Why the hell has to be random. If we could choose..." You dry your head with a towel back in your dorm, with Pieck packing all her things to leave tomorrow morning, really early.

"Well, that's life, y/n. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose." she says. You nod. "Didn't you told Reiner to talk to you now" You nod again. Even when she hates it. "Then go. I listened his steps ten minutes ago. He's in the terrace for sure." You dry your hair a little bit and go downstairs to the terrace. Of course, he's there, with a jacket covering his body. You've entered the debate club because of him. You had an enormous crush on the blonde boy, and he always seemed so sweet and polite you fell even more for him.

Then Zeke told you to be the captain and he changed. Fucking captany.

"Captain, I think punctuality is a quality all captains should have." he says, without turning around or facing you. You took place on his side, your arms on the cold metal of the railing. The brise moves your hair quietly.

"I took a shower." you simply say.

"You should dry your hair or you'll get a cold." he says. You sigh.

"Listen, Reiner. I don't know what changed in you ti became so cold or..."

"In me?" he asks. "Nothing changed in me. Maybe is you the one who changed." he says. You look at him with surprise.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You started to care more for the group that for yourself. You cared for me a lot, and you always stayed until late to make my arguments. You started to forget yourself to take care of us."

"And why the hell you acted like that, Rein!" you ask, yelling to him.

"I thought that maybe if you lost the interest in me you'll start to take care of yourself!" he says. "I didn't want you to stop sleeping for me. I didn't want to see how you mistreated yourself." He sighs, and he takes his jacket out and puts it around your shoulders. He sighs. "You're going to catch a cold."

You're freeze, but not because of the cold. Did he admit...?

"So you cared for me?" you ask in a whisper. He sighs once again and looke to the sky.

"How shouldn't i care for the person I like? Because I like you."

His arms accompanied his jacket around your shoulders, and you smelled his sweet cologne when he hugged you.

"Maybe it's one sided, but..."

"It isn't." you whisper. Was he acting cold just to protect you?

"Hm? Louder, please." he asks. You grab his face between your hands before standing on your tip toes and collide your lips with his.

"I said." you whisper once you part for air. "That it wasn't a one sided love."

Levi's end

He approached you when you where helping to put everything on its place.

"Nice debate, y/n" He says quietly. You smile at him.

"Congratulations, Levi. You won."

He smiles.

"You're a really strong rival. It wasn't easy to win." he says.

"Oh, come on!" you take your things and start walking towards the exit. He follows you quietly. "You're all so smart and fast for this thing. We bite the dust." he laughs a little. The night is calm and there's not much air. You look at the fountain."It was a cool experience. Meet another people, travel with your mates..." you say. Levi nods.

"Yes. Actually, we have a night and half a morning left." you nod. It's true. Your bus picks you all up at 8 am.

"We could... hm.... like." he looks around. "Go dinner tonight." he says finally. You smile brightly.

"Of course! let me call the res..."

"No." he interrupts you. "Just... The two of us." his cheeks are blushing a bit. He doesn't seem like the boy from yesterday, the one that teased his teacher and rolled his eyes. "I would like to know more about you, if you agree." he says. You look at him. He's handsome. And intelligent. He also awakens your curiosity.

"Fine. Let's go for that dinner."

Zeke's end

Zeke was waiting for you on the main entrance of the camping. He smiled, throwing away his cigarette.

"You looked gorgeous on that stage." he says once you arrive. You roll your eyes. He takes your waist and draws you closer to his body. An attempt to kiss you.

"Wait, Jaeger. We're in the main entrance. Everybody could watch."

"Free spectacle, they couldn't ask for more." he says. You roll your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding him until your back finds the wall. Then, he cages you and, leaning on, he kisses you. He tastes like a cigarette and smells to vanilla. That's one of the things you love about him. How his sweet scent doesn't match with his appareance.

"You made it so well... maybe you need a trophy." he jokes.

"Do I have to call you "teacher" during it?" you joke back. He looks intensely at you, as if you awakened something on him.

"Actually is not a bad idea. Hearing you calling me "teacher" makes things funnier, don't you think?" he talks against your mouth.

You smile before taking him closer again, kissing him for the second time, but not the last.

The night is young yet.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fluff #snk fluff #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #snk headcanons #aot fanfiction #aot #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan reiner #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner x y/n #reiner x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #snk zeke #zeke x you #zeke x reader #zeke x y/n #zeke jeager #zeke jaeger #aot zeke

[lovelymaybankk]

full kook - jj maybank

req- reader x jj (can you tell i’m a jj stan?) where the reader is full on kook but unlike sarah jj hates her and doesn’t want her to be a part of pouge life where she fits in and he’s constantly bullying her to where even sarah has to say something but it’s to late because now she’s full kook again until midsummer where she helps him out with topper and they become bf and gf

a/n- i love this rq... sm. also out of order, sarah befriends the pogues before the midsummer party. also y/n is kinda a bitch in this at the beginning srry

w/c- 4.704 (oops...)

tw- swears, rafe and topper being dicks.. thats it i think idrk

sarah cameron and y/n y/l/n were kook princesses. they took orders from nobody, and were definitely the two most popular girls on the island. they had been best friends since birth, and nothing could separate them.

well, except for a group of pogues. y/n never understood sarah's infatuation with them, though to an extent, she did. they could do whatever they want without fear of disappointing their parents. thats all y/n cared about. her parents. not money, of course sarah but other than that.. she didn’t need anybody. 

“sarah, you’re crazy.” y/n huffed, legs crossed. one eyebrow was raised, but other than that y/n looked immensely bored. sarah had gone mia yesterday, and it turned out she was hanging out with a group of poges. “topper will kill you,” the girl sang, a smug look on her face. 

“i don’t care what he thinks! with him i’m.. free.” sarah said dreamily, falling beside y/n on the bed.

“with him you’re a crackie,” y/n snorted, standing up. “i’m just saying, they do nothing all day. how is that entertaining?” her arms folded over her chest, sarah sitting up as she said that.

“they go on boat rides. they drink. i know you like that,” sarah winked, catching y/ns attention. “you’d fit right in. you love all the stuff they do, drinking, drugs, surfing..” she rambled. 

“even if i were to meet them, which i will not, they wouldn’t like me. my reputation is worse than yours,” y/n chuckled, sitting on the hardwood floor to slide on a pair of sandals. “anyway, theres no chance kiara would want me there.”

it was true, kiara and y/n ended on the same note kiara and sarah did. 

“kie and i made up,” sarah mumbled.

“oh she’s kie now? thats convenient.” y/n rolled her eyes, standing and grabbing her bag. “you know, as much as i hate being a kook.. i wouldn’t just switch up like that.” she was mad, venom in her words. who knew if sarah would leave her for the pogues? whos to say she doesn’t?

“just. one day? i’ll bring you tomorrow and i’ll show you what it’s like.” sarah begged, grabbing y/ns hand and she closed the pocket in the bag. y/n rolled her eyes.

“fine. i’ll be here at 10.” y/n pulled her arm away quickly, leaving the room and going downstairs to start her short walk home.

y/n woke up around 8, taking a quick shower and brushing her teeth. as her hair dried, she dried her body and changed out of her pajamas into a pair of light-wash jean shorts and a cropped tee. she sat at her bureau, applying light mascara and chapstick. by the time 9:30 rolled around, y/n left her house and started her walk to sarah's house. she knocked on the door, getting met with rafe’s face. 

“oh, goodmorning.” rafe opened the door wider, getting stopped by sarah.

“you’re gonna let bugs in,” sarah muttered, leading y/n to her car where they started their drive to the cut. 

“do they know im coming?” y/n’s lips pursed, turning to look at her blonde best friend. sarah nodded, stopping the car once they came to the chateau. 

“john b and kie do.. jj and pope don’t.” sarah clarified, stepping out of the car and leading y/n with her. she opened the door, showing y/n the tight room.

y/n looked around, heart suddenly speeding up. they stepped onto the porch, conversations cutting short suddenly. everybody looked from sarah to y/n, making both girls suddenly uncomfortable. 

“oh good. two kooks,” jj muttered, not quietly. john b slapped his arm, finally standing and offering a smile at the girl. he took y/n’s hand, shaking it firmly. 

“i’m john b. sarahs, um. boyfriend,” john b smiled, trying to be friendly. 

“oh, you’re john b. sarah has good taste.” y/n smirked, giving him a sly wink before looking towards her best friend who was now flushed a light pink. 

“anyway,” sarah cut them off before anything could happen. “thats pope, hes smart, thats kiara, who you know and.. thats jj.” she didn’t have anything to say about jj, who was leaned back with his arms cross. he tsked, sitting up.

“so what does another kook princess want? here to spy?” jj spoke with venom, eyes raking up and down the girl.

y/n shrugged, taking a seat beside, but still a distance away from kiara. “sarah here says you guys are more fun than you seem, and i don’t believe her.” her arms crossed around her chest, leaning back in the way jj had done before.

“well, before this escalates,” pope cut the two off from an argument being sprung up, “i’d say we’re pretty fun. you like boat rides? surfing?” he was guessing in his head both of these would be a no, looking at kiara who seemed uneasy at the thought of having another one of her ex-best friends here. he rested his hand on her thigh, making her smile carefully.

“i surf sometimes. not as much as i used to when i was younger, i’d say twice or three times a month.” y/n shrugged, legs crossing. this got everybody's attention, asking her about surfing and what else she does.

everybody except jj.

-

months led on and y/n had soon slowly joined the group on their daily shenanigans. she hung out with them almost everyday, but still spent time with her family and just sarah alone. it was obvious y/n fit it. jj never came around to the thought of y/n, even though she seemed to be very interested in him.

sarah and y/n were laying on y/ns bed, talking mindlessly about whatever. 

“so like, why does jj hate me?” y/n wondered out loud, turning so she was laying on her side, facing sarah. sarah shrugged, facing y/n on her side.

“i don’t know. i think you’re to hot for him,” sarah giggled, punching the girls shoulder.

y/n laughed, face heating up. “to hot for him? i mean, come on. look at him,” she let out a breathy sigh, falling onto her back again. her arm was laid over her chest lazily, eyes closing.

“why do you ask? do you like him?” sarah teased, sitting up and fixing her hair. y/n stayed quiet. sarah gasped, suddenly freaking out. “holy shit! you do!!” she squealed, pulling y/n up and hugging her so tight y/n forgot how to breathe.

“look, it isn’t that big. i’ll get over it soon.” y/n shrugged away from the girl, standing up and stretching. “lets head to the chateau now, yeah?” she helped pull sarah up, who nodded quietly and they both slid on their shoes. 

the pair walked out to sarah’s white jeep, driving to the chateau in the midst of summer. “so, y/n.” sarah broke the silence, rolling down the windows. the fresh air from figure 8 filled the car, which smelt solely like suntan lotion and salt water. “you going to the midsummer?” she asked, steering the car slowly into the cut.

y/n groaned at the mention of it, rolling her eyes. “wish i wasn’t. but it’s fine, it’s in two weeks.” she shrugged, trying to shake off the thought of it. they pulled into the driveway, stepping out at the same time and entering the small space. they spoke about whatever came to mind, conversation cutting short as they stepped onto the porch. “hey guys,” y/n greeted, a warm smile on her face.

she had changed since she had met the group, now not turning a cold shoulder whenever she met a pogue when she was walking.

“hey girls,” pope grinned, holding a red solo cup. his legs were crossed, kie taking the seat that jj normally sat in. sarah waved, moving quickly to sit beside her boyfriend. this left jj and y/n. y/n watched jj’s face contort with disgust, moving closer to the arm.

“somebody wanna switch seats?” jj muttered, making y/n roll her eyes.

“good to see you too, buttercup.” y/n popped the p, sitting down as far away from jj as possible.

“don’t call me that,” jj hissed, not even facing the girl as he spoke. “i’d rather not sit next to the bitch,” he mumbled that one more quiet, catching y/n off guard. sure, jj always made fun of her but he never called her anything.

kie cleared her throat, before y/n could stand up to jj. “boat ride today?” she smiled awkwardly at y/n, who’s eyebrows were currently furrowed. the group let a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘sure’s out. they grabbed their cooler, y/n stopping jj before he could get onto the boat.

“can we talk?” y/n’s arms crossed, putting her weight more on one of her feet than the other.  jj nodded, rolling his eyes as he followed the girl closer to the house. “why do you hate me?” she questioned, looking the taller up-and-down. 

“because,” jj scoffed, like it was obvious, “you’re a bitch. you’re insanely bossy, you’re rude and expect everything to be handed to you. you can’t do shit alone, yet everybody still bows down to you. you’re a fucking kook.” he snapped, walking past the girl and pushing her shoulder roughly to make her fall.

y/n fell onto her ass, wincing as a rock went into the back of her thigh. “motherfucker,” she hissed, catching the boy’s attention. “you’re a bitch, you’re just mad that i won’t sleep with you.”

jj stopped, turning and facing the girl. “oh yeah? thats why. keep telling yourself that.” he smirked, turning and continuing his walk.

“tell sarah i won’t be joining you.” y/n yelled, wiping her eye as she pulled the rock out of her thigh. she stood, turning and stomping away. jj didn't stop her. he stepped onto the boat, obviously pissed.

“she left,” jj sunk into his seat, reaching into the cooler to grab a beer. the group stopped talking, facing jj. he shrugged, rolling his eyes. “she was being bitchy so she left.”

“what’d you say?” sarah’s face turned a light red as she started to get angry, using one hand to shield her eyes from the sun. 

“she asked why i hated her so i was honest. told her she was a bitch,” jj spoke with ease, leaning back and ignoring the burning stares from his friends.

-

it had been two weeks since the group, except sarah, had seen y/n. they all were worried, but at least knowing she was alive from sarah made them feel better. it was two days before the midsummer party, and sarah came knocking loudly on the y/l/n home. opening the door was y/n, hair curled as she wore a short skirt and a white crop-top to match. a kook outfit.

“y/n? is that you?” sarah joked, stepping into the house. y/n quirked an eyebrow, looking the girl up and down.

“well? what do you need?” y/n spoke in a monotone voice, arms crossed as they usually were. under the outfit she wore a bikini, eyes glancing at the surfboard behind sarah.

“oh, i was gonna ask if you wanted to join me and..” sarah trailed off, still speaking but y/n cut her off.

“no.” y/n shrugged, now pushing past the blonde to grab her surfboard. she dusted off some sand from it, hearing it land on the tiled flooring. she kicked some of it away, picking up the board under her arm. “look, im flattered you want me there,” she teased, leading herself out the door and soon sarah followed. “but i’m wear i should be. figure 8. a kook,” y/n shrugged, walking down the sidewalk towards the beach.

“y/n-” sarah chased the girl down the sidewalk, grabbing her shoulder rough enough to make her stop. “we miss you,” she spoke softly, careful not to provoke the girl even more. though that failed.

“okay, i don’t really care. look, i’m meet somebody i have to go,” y/n hissed, turning a cold shoulder quickly.

“who?” sarah continued following y/n, making her groan and turn again.

“holy shit. topper? okay? is that alright if i have friends, ms. kook?” y/n yelled, dropping the board on the ground. “you never gave a shit when jj was talking shit about me to my fucking face, why do you care now? huh?” 

sarah wasn’t used to these outbursts, taking a step back with her hand close to her chest.

y/n scoffed, turning and rolling her eyes. “just what i thought,” she muttered, grabbing the board again and continuing her walk to the beach. this time, sarah didn’t chase her. she just watched in silence, wondering when her best friend became a kook. 

y/n made her way to the beach, sliding off the sandals she wore and looking around for the kook boy. she waited for around an hour, surfing in the water to keep her calm. by the time the sky had become golden, she knew she got stood up.

marching her way back to her house, y/n held her head high until she slammed her bedroom door shut. sobs raked the girls body, tears running down her cheeks onto her shirt until it was thoroughly soaked. she held her face in her hands, wondering how in the span of two weeks she managed to get her heartbroken by the guy she had been hung up on for months, and then by a rich asshat.

sulking to her bed, y/n flopped down and shut her eyes. hoping that if she slept, by the time midsummer came around she would be to numb to care.

-

y/n slipped the tight, yellow dress, over her hips and smiled to herself. the buttercup color paired flawlessly with her skin, hair pulled back into a low bun. she only wore mascara and lipgloss, and a pair of white sandals as her shoes. 

y/n entered the car with her family, staying silent during the ride. she knew sarah and kie would be there, but she didn’t have to enter with a date unlike sarah. she slipped out of the car, quickly leaving her parents behind her as she made her way through the crowd. she disappeared into the back yard, looking for topper to give him a piece of her mind,

kiara noticed y/n first, biting the inside of her cheek before going towards her. she put her hand on y/n’s shoulder, making the girl jump. she turned, facing kiara and her stomach dropped.

“oh, hey..” y/n muttered, scratching the back of her neck as awkwardness settled in the air between the two. 

“hey. how you been?” kiara asked, hands on her hips now. y/n rolled her eyes, suddenly gaining her confidence back.

“good. great actually, y’know?” y/n sarcastically smiled turning and cutting the conversation short. kiara scoffed, turning and going back to where sarah and pope were. 

“she’s acting like a kook,” kie complained, rolling her eyes. sarah bit the inside of her cheek, staying quiet. “what?” kie noticed the look on her face, turning and looking at the girl.

“i was afraid she was gonna do this. every time somebody says something to her about acting to much like a pogue she freaks out.” sarah muttered, leaving the group in search of the girl.

instead, sarah bumped into jj, who was dressed as a waiter. he smiled, offering the girl a drink. “um, vlad?” jj grinned, trying to blend in. “john b told me to give you this,” the boy whispered, trying to be discreet. even though sarah and john b saw each other daily, he still had jj do his work for him. sarah took the note and took jj’s hand, muttering a quiet ‘come with me’. 

the two went to the back porch, where sarah blew up. “are you shittting me?” she hissed, pushing the boy back and catching her off guard. 

“woah mama, chill.” jj joked, but stopped smiling once he saw the look on her face. “what? what’d i do?” now he was confused and concerned, not even fully knowing what he did. 

“oh you never know.” sarah hissed, rubbing her hands onto her dress. her eyes caught toppers, both of them standing still as she stared into the eyes of her ex. she finally pulled away, sighing at jj. “y/n has gone full kook again,”

“damn, thats crazy. let me uh.. oh yeah. i don’t care.” jj shrugged, pushing past sarah. he ignored her calls, walking through the crowd. he bumped shoulders with y/n both giving each other a cold glare before continuing their walk. neither of them could help the butterflies in their stomach as they touched, but they pushed them down and continued their (mild, on y/n’s part) hatred for each other. 

y/n finally found topper, grabbing his arm with a pinch. he hissed, noticing who was holding his arm. “oh, y/n.” topper muttered, a bit confused on why she had suddenly dragged him through the crowd. y/n drug the boy into a somewhat empty room, except for a couple of parents mingling around.

“really?” y/n let his arm go, crossing her arms over her chest. topper shrugged, not knowing what she was talking about. in his hand that y/n wasn’t dragging he held a red solo cup. taking a long sip, he rocked from foot to foot. “you ditched me. remember?” y/n huffed, anger coursing through her body. she wished she had a blunt right now, but of course she had gone full kook and didn’t feel like blowing a crazy amount of money for weed.

“oh yeah.” topper spoke nonchalantly, obviously not bothered by the girls anger.

y/n groaned, turning on her heel away from the boy. she wanted to scream, pushing through the crowd angrily. she found her way to her mom, tugging on her dress. “when are we leaving?”

her mom laughed, shooing the girl away. y/n rolled her eyes, seeing sarah dancing in the middle of the crowd. she bit her inner cheek, knowing if sarah was there the rest of the mystery gang would be there too. she craned her neck, looking around for topper before slowly making her way to sarah.

“um, hey.” y/n muttered, a feeling of self-pity dowsing the girl. sarah turned, taking in the girls state before responding.

“hey, whats up?” sarah slung her arm around the girl, smiling at the randoms in the crowd she didn’t know. they quickly made their way off the dance floor, sarah taking her arm off of her. 

y/n shrugged, not making eye contact with the older. “hows everybody?” her voice was quiet, barely heard above the music. she rubbed her left arm with her hand, still not looking at sarah.

“good.” sarah was blunt, not on purpose but out of somewhat anger. she got blown off many times by the girl, just for her to come crawling back. like always. 

y/n nodded, finally looking at sarah. “i’m sorry, i always do this. i always do dumb shit and come right back,” she chuckled, looking away from sarah again.

sarah wrapped her arms around her, “i’m used to it.” she joked quietly, just standing there and holding y/n. y/n pulled away after a moment, smiling at sarah again.

“wheres everybody else?” referring to the pogues, sarah shrugged. 

“last i saw, jj went off being chased, kie and pope disappeared and john b.. isn’t here.” sarah said the last part with a sigh, eyes shutting momentarily before fluttering back open.

“jj?” y/n mumbled, more to herself. last she had seen of jj, they walked by each other with air so thick it would hard to be cut with a knife.

“yeah,” kie chimed in suddenly, using sarah as an armrest. “topper and rafe. i think kelce too,” she listed the people chasing the blonde, shrugging. “nothing to serious though. he probably just did something dumb and they got mad. they won’t beat him up now though.. i don’t think.”

y/n’s breath seemed to stop for a moment, breaking away from the group in a hurry. they called after her, but it seems pointless as she picked up the bottom of her dress and entered the huge building. she tripped occasionally over nothing, her breath never evening out. catching her breath outside of the bathrooms, she slid down the wall angrily. where the hell was he?

she slumped down the wall beside the bathrooms, her legs aching and telling her to stop. the door beside her swung open, revealing an old man who was seemingly very upset over the fact that boys are ‘always fighting’. this caught y/n’s attention, making her stand up quickly and slowly push the bathroom door open.

the first thing y/n heard was the sound of gasps as somebody tried to regain their breath, then she heard the voice of topper. “yeah, you like that?” he questioned in a threatening tone, and y/n watched him throw a punch as she rounded the corner. in the bathroom was topper, rafe and jj. jj’s body was limp, being held up by rafe as he got the shit beat out of him by topper. blood flew around the room, lip split and face bruising.

y/n bit the inside of her cheek, noticing rafe glance in her direction before dropping jj. “topper, lets split.” he mumbled, motioning to y/n. topper looked over, muttering something under his breath to rafe which got him to laugh.

“dont laugh, rafe, im sure your daddy wouldn't want to hear about your addiction.” y/n’s face was smug, arms crossing as she fully revealed herself. rafe’s eyes widened, grabbing toppers arm and dragging him out of the room quickly.

“this isn't over, pogue!” topper yelled as he was getting led out, the two boys scampering down the hall as fast as they could. 

y/n rolled her eyes, going over to the limp boy as careful as she could. jj was conscious, but not by much. she grabbed his arm, feeling for a pulse and letting out a small sigh of relief. she let go of his arm quickly, shaking his shoulders. “hey, wake up.” she shook him more aggressively, making the boy groan and finally open his eyes. they noticed how close they were to each other, both of their faces flushing as she scurried away from each other. the air between the two was thick, neither speaking up.

“so, what happened?” y/n questioned after a while, meeting the boys eyes. jj shrugged, sitting up and trying not to crush his ribs. he winced, hand going to his side as he leaned against the wall behind him.

“sarah said how topper ditched you and i don’t know, shitty move.” jj whispered, not even sure in the girl had heard him. y/n had confusion on her face, looking at him with her eyebrows furrowed. she cleared her throat, looking away from jj for a moment.

“you were defending me?” y/n spoke in the same, hushed tone. she felt if she spoke up, he’d get mad at her again and they wouldn’t be this.. calm.

jj shrugged, rolling his eyes. “don’t let it get to your head, princess.” his tone was cold, rubbing his eyes. his chest heaved, trying to stay at the same pace. he could barely move without feeling like his lungs were getting ripped out of his chest. “it was the least i could do,” he spoke again, head leaning back against the cold wall with his eyes closed.

“huh?” y/n looked at the position the boy was in. he looked so calm yet so uneasy at the same time. his chest was moving at an irregular pace, hand still over his rib. she noticed the boy didn’t respond, so she changed the subject. “why do you hate me?” her voice was smooth, but silent.

“i don’t. i try to, but i don’t.” jj shrugged, pulling his head back up and opening his eyes. they stared at each other in silence for a while, the only thing that could be heard was jj breathing heavily. “i’m not used to new people just.. coming in. especially kooks. they are, no offense, almost always two-faced. everybody liked you right from the start and it just… made me mad i guess.” jj rambled, tearing his eyes away from the girl and looking at the glossy shoes he wore.

y/n didn’t respond for a while, just taking in what jj said. “i never hated you.” jj spoke again once he realized y/n wasn’t going to talk. “i was just jealous. you get everything because you’re a kook, you have a good life and a big house and money and i’m stuck with.. nothing. i live, basically, in a shack. with a shitty home life.” he sighed, eyes shutting as his head leaned back against the wall.

“it’s not all that good.” y/n mumbled in a soft, quiet voice. “i mean, i have the house, and family.. but for what? i have no real friends except sarah and i can’t leave my house unless the perfect child is there. sarah’s everything i wish i was. she can leave whenever she wants, and shes gorgeous. and i just.. follow what she does. while everybody may like me they always end up.. using me. i’m never seen for who i really am.” she ranted, rubbing her temples with her hands. “and when i met the pogues i realized where i really wanted to be.”

“yeah, we’re cool like that.” jj joked, easing the air a little. y/n smiled, looking at jj.

“y’know, you’re.. funny.” y/n grinned cheesily, legs crossing. 

“oh yeah?” jj met her eyes, arm finally pulling away from his ribs.

“funny looking.” y/n sputtered out, covering her mouth as she started laughing.

jj put on a face of mock upset, looking away. “wow. now that one hurt.” he gasped, shaking his head. this made the girl laugh harder, her face turning red. jj joined in her laughter, two finally stopping minutes later and just holding eye contact.

“you’re really pretty.” jj spoke up, catching y/n off guard. she smiled softly, head tilting a little. 

“you are too.” y/n hummed, scooting a bit closer to jj. “the reason i left that day when you were talking shit about me.. it hurt. ever since i met you i’ve liked you. there’s something about you that just draws me close.” she mused, making the blonde’s face flush a little. from embarrassment of what he said that day but also because of how she felt with him.

“yeah i’m.. sorry. about that.” jj apologized, now looking away from y/n. “i don’t know what i was thinking. i think i just said that because… yeah no clue.” he grinned sheepishly, turning and facing y/n again.

jj’s eyes faltered from y/n’s eyes to lips for a moment, looking back up at the younger. they stayed silent, now sitting beside each other. when had they gotten so close? 

“have you ever kissed somebody in a bathroom?” jj wondered out loud, a smirk laid on his face.

y/n thought for a moment, “nah. i haven’t kissed anybody.. period.” she giggled, looking at jj with a look of anticipation. 

“mm, can i change that?” jj whispered, trying not to hurt himself as he moved closer. his hand wrapped around the back of y/n’s neck, pulling her close. y/n nodded, closing the small gap between them.

their stomach’s both did flips as they kissed. jj had kissed many, many people but it never felt like this. and they knew in that moment, that this wasn’t a one time thing. it would happen many times.

#jj maybank #jj #maybank #jj maybank x reader #john b #john #b #john b x sarah #sarah cameron #kiara x pope #jj x kiara #kiara #pope #jj x pope #slowburn #surf #party #cute #happy #fight

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 7

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst (i think thats it)

W/c: 2k ish

A/n: I’m really sorry... But thank you to @cutie1365​ for all her help! Girls a rock start honestly. Go give A Kid From Queens a read. Seriously, you wont regret it! 

The early morning sun streamed through the windows, burning at the corner of your eyes. A groan escaped your throat as you shifted out of its glaring view. Your head ached with the memory of another nightmare. 

        You picked up your phone on the nightstand and typed in your password. Absentmindedly you scrolled through your messages with Bucky. 

You: Hey.                                                                              4:15  pm   (read)

You: Wanna watch a movie later?                                      8:25 pm   (read)

You: Hey, u still up?                                                           12:45 am   (read) 

The next week was a complete blur. You would have loved to relive the blissful moment you had shared with Bucky, but the night after, he disappeared. You knew he hadn’t left on a mission as the rest of the team would recall seeing him around. You felt foolish looking for a man who so obviously didn't want to see you. Or maybe he was just busy, you would try to reassure yourself. But as the days drawled on, you found it hard to keep convincing yourself of that. Maybe you had come on too strong? Maybe he didn't feel the same way and you completely read the situation wrong? I mean, you practically threw yourself at him, right? God, you felt stupid. And what was worse, the nightmares only got worse in Bucky’s absence. Almost every night he would lay by your side, petting your hair and reassuring you. You didn't really realize the effect he had on you until it stopped.

          A few nights later, Steve, T’Challa and Bucky were to leave on a mission to interrogate Zemo. Steve explained he was apprehended about a year ago and was held up in a maximum security prison. You didn't ask where, worried if you knew you might use your newfound ‘gifts’ to tear him a new asshole.

        The night before they left there was a soft knock on your door. You looked up curiously, hoping for just a split second that maybe it was him… You crossed the room slowly and creaked the door open.  As the hallway light poured into your dimly lit bedroom you saw Bucky’s disheveled form. He looked like hell. You didn't think he would have already been sleeping, not that you minded an impromptu visit from your favourite Super Soldier, but his worried eyes concerned you. 

           “Can we talk a sec?” He asked, his voice confirming he was indeed in crisis. You nodded slightly and let him in. He walked towards your bed, instantly taking a seat and waiting for you to join. He really looked terrible. You could tell he was a wreck. Good, you thought. The man had literally kept you up for nights worrying, wondering if you were the cause of his sudden cold shoulder. 

         “I think that's a good idea.” You spoke sternly, surprised with how calm your voice came out. To be fair, you had practiced this conversation in the mirror a few times. As long and Bucky stuck to the script, you'd be fine.  

          He smirked slightly, tapping the space beside him. As you got closer, you realised what bad shape the guy was really in. Dark circles blossomed under his once blue eyes, now dark and stormy and bloodshot. His usual scruff was now almost a beard and looked unkempt and overgrown. 

           “Listen, doll. There's somethin’ I've been meaning to say… I was just tryin’ to find the right words but then, last week, you kissed me and-” You didn't let him finish before interrupting. 

            “You kissed me?” Your words were harsh and you could tell they hurt Bucky. Maybe ease up a little, you thought as you took a deep breath. In all your time practicing what you were going to say to Bucky, him looking like a complete and utter wreck was never part of the picture.

         “What? Course’ I did. But that's not what I came to talk to you about.” He sighed, taking another long inhale and holding it a few seconds, before drawing it out slowly. “Y/n, I need you to understand, the person I am now, I wasn't always this way. I was broken and put back together so many times I had forgotten who I was.” He started. Bucky had told you about his past with Hydra before. Many nights you stayed up listening to him recall the few memories he had from his time. It made you somewhat thankful that yours hadn’t come back quite yet. 

          “I know, Buck. It’s okay.” Your voice droned out softly as you reached a reassuring hand and placed it on top of his metal one. He flinched away, resting them in his lap. You felt your heart pang with sadness at his actions. 

        “It's not okay, Y/n. It’s never been okay. I’m broken and you're just starting this new chapter…  Dammit - I don't even know how to…” He rubbed his face in frustration, all the while avoiding your worried stare. 

          “You know you can talk to me, Buck. About anything.” He spoke quietly, careful not to set him off. He nodded his head from behind his hands and finally removed them, placing them back down in his lap. 

         “I don't wanna’ screw this up, Y/n. Whatever this is. You’ve been such a good friend to me and…” He began again but his words melted away into the background. Friend. Such a good friend. Oh God, he was letting you down. You should have seen this coming but with Bucky, it felt different. You’d never been kissed like that. You didn't ask for any of this to happen. I mean, you had enough on your plate right now as it was. Why didn't he stop you? God, he could have stopped all of this. Instead of ignoring you all week and making you feel like a crazy person. Maybe you were. 

        “Why have you been avoiding me?” You interjected, not sure what part of his explanation he had even gotten to. He paused, looking at you with sympathy. He pities you, you thought, feeling your gut sink and tears well in your eyes. 

        “Look, Y/n… I got carried away with you that night. I should have stopped, I should have done a lot of things. I thought something terrible had happened to you and I just… I’m so sorry, doll. For everything.” His eyes burned into you, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You were so embarassed. God, you must look so stupid right now. Slowly, you took a breath and looked up at him. He looked you over, trying to gauge your current state. 

        “Ya- no, I get it. My fault, honestly. I read the situation wrong. Sorry.” You croaked out, forcing yourself to look at him in his mind melting eyes. Fuck, he was beautiful. Even completely sleep deprived the man could easily be the most attractive person you’d never seen. What an asshole. 

       “I just think it would be best, for both of us if we stayed friends.” He half heartedly smiled at you, watching as you nodded slowly. 

         “I think you should go, Bucky.” You whispered over a sob that forced its way out of your throat. Don't you dare cry in front of him. Don't you dare let him know he broke you. You shouted to yourself. 

“Doll-”

        “Don't- just… I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. Just, please leave now.” His head hung as he let out a defeated breath. Slowly he stood, crossing the room, but pausing when he got to the door. 

        “I leave on a mission tomorrow morning. It’s just recon, but I don't know when I’ll be back. Just take care of yourself, Y/n.”

          “I think I’ll be fine, Sargeant. Thanks.” You scoffed. And with that, the door shut, and you were left alone again. 

                Next morning came on quickly. You had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and over thinking everything Bucky had just said. At least he was honest with you. You thought. After a week of ignoring you…

        Finally you pulled your ass out of bed. You hadn’t slept a blink all night, but there was no use trying now. You shuffled across your room and into the bathroom. 

        “Ugh,” You signed, looking at your messy hair and dark circles under your eyes. I think the only thing to really bring you back from the dead now was an I.V drop filled with coffee. 

        After throwing your hair up into a messy bun and blending out your under eye bags with concealer, you headed downstairs. The compound was strangely quiet. Granted Steve, Bucky and T’Challa had all left by now. It felt strange to not see them hovering around the kitchen. Instead, Natasha and Wanda sat on either side of the island chatting quietly until you walked it. Wanda’s head snapped up, alerting Natasha of your presence.

         “Morning, Y/n.” Wanda smiled warmly at you. 

          “Hi.” You mumbled, ransacking the kitchen for something to tide you over. You honestly couldn't remember the last time you had really eaten something. When you finally found the hidden box of fruit loops at the back of the pantry. These were you and Wanda's contraband and needing an appropriate hiding spot as such.

          “You know what would pair beautifully with those?” Nat asked, lifting her mug and pointing it towards the full coffee pot on the counter. You paused for a moment, finally letting the rich smell of the brewing beans envelope your senses. 

          “You didn't…?” You gasped, momentarily feeling a little better. 

          “You're right. I didn't. Bucky went out to the market early this morning and picked up a bag of real coffee beans for you.” She smiled knowingly at you.

           You huffed, suddenly a little less excited. It was pity coffee. Natasha looked you up and down trying to get a read on your mood. She carefully poured you a full mug of deliciousness, passing it to you. As you lifted it to your lips your mouth watered, feeling all your problems melt away. The first sip reaffirmed that sentiment. 

      “Fuck, thats good.” You moaned, swallowing the substance slowly. Wanda giggled at your reaction while Nat rolled her eyes. 

       “So, what's the plan for today?” You asked over a mouth full of cereal. 

       “Nothing crazy, Wanda and I are going to go train for a bit, if you wanna’ join in?” Nat offered. Working out with the former assassin and super witch didn’t really strike you as a relaxing day, but you figured it would be a good way to get your mind off Bucky. 

       “Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe we can have a girls night tonight? I could really use it.” You shrugged casually, trying not to meet Nat’s suspicious gaze.

        “Ugh, yes please! Three against one, Shuri will have to watch a sappy eighties rom-com with us!” Wanda exclaimed, setting her cereal bowl in the sink and giggling her melodic laugh. 

        “We can do girls night, plus one boy. I think Sam's landing in Wakanda tonight. He’s been on a recon mission for the last month and a half, and knowing him, ittl’ more than likely be four against Shuri.” Nay laughed, poking Wanda in the shoulder and reminding her of the return of their friend. 

        “Oh right! Y/n, you’re going to love Sam.” Wanda exclaimed. You smiled dryly, trying and failing to look as excited as your friend. After the overwhelming week, all you wanted was to drink your weight in tequila and forget Bucky existed. Maybe a change in faces was just what you needed, however. 

         “Can’t wait.” You forced an enthused smile as you followed Nat and Wanda to the Gym. 

           You had at least a week before Bucky and the guys returned. Surely that was enough time to mend your bruised ego and move on. Though, something sinking deep inside of you felt otherwise. 

.....................................

A/n: It’s the ruining a perfectly good fluffy moment between y/n and Bucky for me. I’m so sorry. I cant tell you it gets better, but it does get juicy! 

.....................................

@kalesrebellion​ 

@projectcampbell​

#bucky x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #steve x bucky #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic idea #msmarvelwrites

[monst]

Th ir st thinking about Dabi setting y/n on top of a washing machine on the edge so she can feel the vibrations

What do you do when your at work and your not busy and bored? Write Thirst...����

______________

Shigaraki's clothes

Dabi x reader

Warnings: Sexy time actions (Obviously it's thirsty bitch juice) Exhibitionism, Vouyerism, Vibrating washing machines 🥴 And a horny Dabi :p

"D-dabi please n-not here~" you knew your bottom lip was going to be bruised after this as you bit on it so hard to contain the sounds threatening to escape. You didn't think Dabi would do this but you really should have expected it. After all it was Dabi....

.

.

He had tagged along with you as you heaved sacks of dirty clothes to the 24/7 laundromat. Apparently he wasn't aware that you helped wash Shigaraki's clothes... He wasn't too thrilled about it but you had brushed him off saying that Kurogiri gave you cash for it and extra dough was always welcomed.

"Dabi will you quit it?" You huffed when he started to become touchy. You had been bent over putting clothes into the wash when he had come up behind you. He pressed his crotch to your ass snuggly allowing you to feel everything. The place was almost empty not that Dabi cared he was too busy grinding into your ass.

"These cycles are thirty minutes, we have time." His hot breath tickled your ear when he leaned forward to bite down on it. You felt your face heat up at the implication but you scowled. You weren't about to indulge him by fucking in a nasty bathroom. Instead you pressed back against him (A ridiculous way to get him to back off) This just fueled him as one of his hands came to grip your hip while the other grabbed the top of the machine.

His body towered over you as he rutted against the curve of your bum. You had to put your hands on either side of the hole to keep yourself from falling into the wash along with the clothes.

"Dabi, I said not now." You hissed. "Can't you wait till we get back?"

Of course he couldn't wait. Why should he wait? Were Shigaraki's ratty clothes more important than him? More important than his need? Fuck no. But you were stubborn and you pressed back against him until it was painful. Normally he loved a bit of pain but right now you weren't doing this to get him off and that wasn't appreciated. So he let you go. His azure eyes burned holes into your outfit and he waited for you to load the quarters into the machine. And when you turned around to meet his gaze you froze. His face, his expression to be more precise was positively ravenous. You knew you were fucked.

"T-thank you for letting me finish loading the clothes." You gulped as if those words were going to stop him.

"Your welcome babydoll" he grinned innocently. That tone spelled bad news.

"R-right so I'm going to check on the other clothes." You tried desperately to get his mind off of the situation at hand but you knew. You had glanced down and his cock straining against his Jeans was enough to tell you that he would not be letting this go. Before you could skirt away his hand shot out to grab your arm. You dared to look up at his eyes.... Those glowing sapphire eyes were filled to the brim with lust and mischief.

"Dabi please no." You pleaded fruitlessly. "W-we're in public. Th-thats a fucking g-glass window. Dabi there are p-people ah!" He disregard every word that fell from your lips and hoisted you up on top of the machine. You fucking hated how strong he was sometimes.

The hum of the spinning machine shot straight up into you and you subconsciously parted your legs to feel it against your clit. Shots of pleasure ran up your spine as you pressed your cunt to the machine and whined.

"You wanted to watch that bastards clothes right? Now you'll be able to feel when they're done." He smirked, watching as you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning out.

"D-dabi please n-not here~" you whimpered while grinding your pussy against the vibrating metal.

"Baby girl I'm not doing anything." He snickered watching as you got off on the machine. He then had a thought...

"D-Dabi what are you doing?" You gasped, when he removed your shoes and tossed them into the machine disregarding the soapy water that sloshed onto the floor.

"Hnnng" your hands shot out to fist his jacket as the machine bounced you against it. You could feel how wet you were and each jolt against your dripping heat had you stifling a moan.

"Would you look at that~" Dabi whistled. "You've got yourself a little audience darling"

You looked over to the window and whined into Dabi's chest. He just tutted at you and grabbed your jaw directing your face to the lurkers. You felt so dirty being stared at by vouyering perverts. But you really couldn't stop. Your cheeks felt to hot and the room felt like it was spinning as you went into a haze. And the strangers staring into the laundromat to see you get off only aroused you more. You couldn't see any of there faces since it was dark out but their silhouettes were visible and when you saw one of them reach down to palm themselves your eyes rolled back and you came.

Dabi didn't even bother to cover your mouth allowing you to mewl loudly. Drool seeped down the side of your lips as the machine kept whirling.

"What's going on over here?" The small old lady who owned the place stood in front of the both of you. You composed yourself in seconds wiping your mouth and from the corner of your eye you saw the crowd scatter.

"Nothing." Dabi smiled innocently. "The door busted open and scared (Name) here." He lied.

"I told you. No shoes in the wash." She frowned.

"I-I'm s-sorry" you breathed. "I'll clean it up."

"Good." She huffed "And get down from the machine. You break it you pay for it's fixture." She turned around and went into the small office to continue watching her t.v program.

You let out a sigh when she left and you allowed Dabi to bring you down. Your damp panties were uncomfortable against your needy cunt but you cleaned up the mess Dabi made. You also forced him to help you move all the clothes to the drying machines in the back.

But you were so damn horny that you allowed him to fuck you on top of the tables used to fold clothes. Needless to say you weren't allowed back into that laundromat....

.

.

.

"Why are these clothes damp?" Kurogiri asked.

You shot Dabi a glare.

"No fucking clue." He shrugged "Maybe the machines were out of order and we didn't notice."

#Thirsty bitch juice #dabi x reader #dabi smut #Dabi lemon #Lmaoo I need to stop being thirsty at work 🤪