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diremoone · 6 months

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the door with the floral wreath | r. sukuna

when sukuna gets a new neighbor on the third floor of his apartment complex, he’s pleasantly surprised to see who it is behind the door with the floral wreath. her two cats on the other hand, are a massive fucking problem.

w — honestly nothing? save for fluff and some cussing, slowburn-ish, implied boxer & sorta rich! Sukuna, implied polyglot(ish)! reader, cat! Satoru and cat! Suguru and both cats being in love, cozy themed again (I can’t help it), the formatting of this “fic” was how it was in my brain so I’m sorry if it’s a lil strange haha, this apparently became longer than I originally anticipated lmao, reader is mentioned to be partially Japanese but no physical appearances are ultimately described, mild angst at the end

a/n: not apart of the ‘make me (yours)’ universe but it’s definitely inspired by it

🌸 When Sukuna wakes up on a Saturday morning and opens his front door to leave for his morning run, the last thing he expects to see is a floral wreath on the door opposite of his. That can only mean one thing: someone has moved in. But if someone has, then why hasn’t he seen or heard the furniture being moved in? These aren’t exactly the cheapest apartments, so did they just not have anything?

It was weird, to say the least.

🌸 However, three months pass before he gets to see who the person who’s behind the door across from his.

🌸 Sukuna gets back from his jog a little early, the light sprinkles of rain turning into a downpour. That’s when he sees you leaving your apartment, locking the door to leave. Unfortunately, you’re not paying too much attention to your surroundings, and you two nearly collide into one another at the top of the stairs.

You narrowly turn in time to place yourself flat against the wall to avoid the behemoth of a man that was your neighbor from running over you and sending you both down the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” came your instant apology.

“It’s fine,” follows his gruff reply.

But he knows he certainly wouldn’t mind running into you again. Just not where you two can fall down the stairs and potentially break your necks.

On a random day not too long after your initial run-in (and near subsequent dangerous tumble down some stairs), you two run into one another to get the mail at the front office.

You pop up behind him right after he opens his mailbox, staring up at him and his very impressive height and build and apparently scare him, because when you speak next, his shoulders jump. “Gosh, you’re tall. You must’ve played basketball or something in high school, yeah?”

He would’ve either been silent or retort something in an asshole tone like he was used to. He just didn’t like people.

He would’ve, if it wasn’t his cute neighbor.

“Volleyball,” he replies quietly. “Quit after graduation.”

You frown. “That sucks. You must’ve been good at it.”

“It was a pastime.”

“Sounds fun though,” you chirp, putting your own key into your mailbox. “I tried to get into sports, but uh, lack of things made it hard to do so. Did track for awhile, until my ribs couldn’t keep up.”

Sukuna lets out a snort but says nothing further. He goes to leave, but not before hearing, “G’bye, neighbor!”

Ah, shit. He hadn’t told you his name, had he?

Hopefully, there would be a next time.

🌸 Sukuna doesn’t see you again for another month or two after that, fate still having you two separated like an awful slowburn romance.

🌸 What he doesn’t like in particular is the fact you don’t know his name and he doesn’t know yours. He doesn’t like that; doesn’t like that he’s missed his chance to know you a little better. By his logic, he should know your name, have your phone number, and have at least had you on a date and in his bed at least once already.

🌸 Come early December, he hears your door begin to open and close a lot. It becomes annoying, very very annoying, very very quickly.

That goes on almost until Christmas time.

Until one day he manages to catch the little reasons why your door has been slamming shut so much.

Twerp Number One wriggles in his hold as he holds them both up to eye level. She grunts and huffs at him. “Put me down!”

To which he scoffs at. “And why should I do that?”

Just as Twerp Number Two decides to speak, your door opens. This time it’s you.

“You can let them down,” you say, clearly amused. “They’ve come for cookies.”

Sukuna grunts. “So that’s why they’re always slamming the door.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried to get them to stop. They are six, though.” As genuine as your apology is, Sukuna can see the little twinkle of mischievousness appear at the end of your sentence in defense of the two twerps.

“Mr. Sukuna is a big grump anyway!” the oddly-orange-haired girl says. “At least that’s what my mama says.”

“Nobara, you shouldn’t be calling people names,” you scold the girl. “Put them down so they can get some cookies and head back, please. I’m sure Nobara’s mom is wondering about them. Nobara, the white box is for you to take home.”

Sukuna begrudgingly obliges. Nobara and her friend barge inside your home. The door stays open thanks to a cold breeze, allowing for the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls to drift outside and into his nose. And damn does it smell nice.

“So, I finally know your name,” you muse.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” he says, half-correcting you, “but everyone just calls me by my first name.”

“I can see why,” you reply in a joking tone and smile. “But yeah… It fits you. I’m [Name], and pretty much the same: everyone calls me by my first name. Since my last name isn’t exactly normal, you know… Since I’m not inherently from Japan.”

Sukuna’s brows raise. “You’ve lived here before?” he asks.

“My mom is [part/full] Japanese,” you admit. And then to his surprise, you ramble on further, “I’ve popped around, uh, a few countries over the last several years of my life, Japan included. I’ve just… never stayed in one place to technically be from somewhere. I was born in the States, but… I don’t, uh, really feel like I actually am from there… Does that make any sense?”

“It does.” But he doesn’t go into his backstory in return. And thankfully, you don’t seem to mind, just about as much as you minded sharing such a part of your life to someone who’s technically nothing more than a stranger to you, not in the slightest.

Nobara pops back out with her friend, who’s just a touch older than her.

“Thank you for the cookies and cimmanom rolls, Miss [Name]!” Nobara says.

You don’t bother to correct her cute mistake. “You’re very welcome, Nobara. Now head home. Goodnight, girls.”

“Goodnight!”

You watch the girls descend, and when they’re out of sight, you listen carefully for the telltale of their first floor door closing. And when it thuds shut loud enough to wake everyone in the apartments in the block, you turn your attention back to the gigantic man that was your next door neighbor… Who’s attention was on your door, more than likely concentrating on the smell in your kitchen.

Your lips curl up and you prevent a giggle. “You want some?”

Your voice snaps him from his stupor. “What? Want what?”

“Some cookies and cimmanom rolls?” you question, cutely reiterating Nobara’s mistake.

“Uh…”

He takes too long to answer, so you decide for him. “I’ll get you some anyway.”

You go back inside, leaving him out in the cold. But you don’t take very long and come back out not even two minutes later with another white box and place it into his hands.

“Well,” you say, teeth chattering from the cold. “It’s nice finally knowing your name, neighbor. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon… Goodnight.”

He barely gets out a “goodnight” before you close the door. Sukuna tosses his head back and settles for a heavy exhale rather than the audible sigh he knows you would’ve heard through your door.

Another fuck up. But at least he got some food out of it this time.

🌸 You both end up meeting each other a lot more often by “coincidence” after that, like fate has finally determined you’re allowed to see one another or something. (To him that just sounds stupid, until it comes out of your mouth.)

For Christmas, you end up gifting him a tin of popcorn and another box of sweets by leaving them at a front door with a cute handwritten note.

🌸 Gradually, the two of you begin to interact more, and naturally gravitate toward each other’s energy and finally getting to know one another; he’s over at your apartment most of the time, it’s cleaner and smells at lot more nice than his (in his opinion). It’s not that he’s dirty, he’s quite clean actually. It’s just that he prefers your apartment to his.

🌸 You find out that Sukuna is about ten years older than you, and was almost a volleyball player that almost went pro, had it not been for his father’s death. He lost all motivation for the sport, and eventually settled for doing numbers for his father’s company, taking up boxing as a side hobby. To which he was more than good at.

A year ago, he moved into these apartments, getting away from the corporate world had had dived into, opting to do things from home rather than in-person. His prior neighbors never stayed around for too long, not with the amount of noise coming from his apartment in the middle of the night. You’re honestly surprised the person below him hasn’t moved out yet either.

🌸 For Sukuna, he finds out that you almost didn’t get to graduate high school because of how much you’d been moving around. You’d gotten depression from leaving so many friends behind so often that you just made graduation by the skin of your teeth.

Now, you’re online for college, majoring in linguistics, all while working as a translator for a special needs school of Japanese children that are deaf. Through that, he finds out you speak several different languages as well.

God, your personality is just as sweet as the goodies you bake, huh?

🌸 There is one problem, however, when he comes over: your goddamn cats.

🌸 The white Maine Coon is for sure out to get him and make his life miserable, with his attempts at wooing you almost a failed attempt every single time. His name is Satoru, and he’s by far the most obnoxious cat he’s ever fucking met.

Why on Earth you’d give a cat a human name is beyond him. But the again, the fucking cat acts so human it’s disturbing — it almost kind of makes sense.

🌸 Satoru’s claws almost end up in his ass every time he walks through the front door. He can’t even stand openly, but has to stay against a wall or sit on the couch so the cat doesn’t get his claws into his backside. And he can tell that that damn cat has a smug-ass smirk on his face every time. How a cat can smirk, he’s unsure; but he just knows that the look on his face is the one of a smug little shithead that knows he’s gotten away with being a menace. Thankfully, you’re aware of his tendencies and can tell when he’s being more of an asshole than other times and get onto him.

🌸 The black Maine Coon, Suguru, isn’t as terrible, but he opts to creepily stare down at Sukuna from his cat tower rather than be proactive in his distaste. He studies him every second every time he comes over, paying attention to every single detail and movement Sukuna makes with you.

He’ll do things more subtly than his white counterpart, like “accidentally” wave his long, black fluffy tail into his cup of water you gave him. He’s just as much of a menace, although you don’t get onto him as often like the white one, because while you know Satoru is more of an extroverted menace, you just seemingly can’t see that Suguru is just as awful. (Mostly because you don’t actually see it.)

🌸 This goes on for months and months, Satoru scratching the behind of his pants as hard as he can to make it rip and getting white fur all over his clothes, and Suguru glaring down at him from his tower and putting his paws in Sukuna’s food. Although it becomes a little less as often because they’re seemingly growing used to him, as if they’re seeing that he actually makes you happy and finally get the sense that he isn’t just going to break your heart and throw you away.

🌸 And the growing approval of your cats seems to mean a lot to you.

“I picked them up off the streets,” you tell him after he asks about where you got the inseparable pair. “I found them as kittens in a cardboard box three years ago on the streets, drenched and matted in dirt and nasty water.”

You remember the day very clearly. It had just stopped raining, and just as you were about to head home, stopping at the vending machines before heading to your car, you heard animal-like cries of something small and weak. And sure enough, on the other side of the food machine, stuffed away in a tacky, ruined cardboard box, were two, rain-drenched kittens huddled together to keep warm.

That was the day you got two new cats, two new responsibilities. And although times got hard a few times, you’ve never regretted adopting them.

Sukuna gazes up at the two cats on the tower, sitting next to each other in the bed at the top. Their tails are intertwined, heads rubbing at each other’s necks lovingly. He would have never guessed that’s where you found them. From the looks of it, they he would’ve guessed they’d came from a pet store.

“So you’ve raised them since they were kittens,” Sukuna says. “They trust you with their lives. And looks like they love you unconditionally, too.”

“I’d like to think so,” you muse, sipping on your coffee. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it with how ornery they are.”

Sukuna keeps his eyes trained on the two cats in love. He’s slightly jealous, and no he’ll never admit it. He just hopes he can have that one day with you.

He just has to stop Satoru from ripping him a new one every time he comes through the door.

🌸 Your cats eventually grow fond of having him over, fond enough that they’re not being the usual mischievous selves when Sukuna puts his arm around your shoulders and tugs you closer to him when you invite him over for movie nights, not trying to bite his fingers off (Satoru) or sit between you both (Suguru).

🌸 After a year passes and you and Sukuna know each other, he finally gets to take you on a proper date after manning up. Although it’s not a restaurant date, since he knows you hate being looked at while eating. It’s a picnic by the ocean, with the weather nothing short of perfect.

🌸 Your attempts to leave your cats at home for said date, however, are fruitless, the pair determined to come with you and your now-boyfriend who declares himself as such after dessert just to piss off the pair of felines. Sukuna plants a big fat smooch on your lips, turning you into a giggly mess.

🌸 They in return, somehow find a stray kitten and plop it in his lap in return. The kitten isn’t as bad off as when you found Satoru and Suguru, but he’s just as scared. He immediately imprints on your oversized boyfriend, who secretly takes an instant liking to the orange-red (honestly a little pink, too) baby cat and becomes a cat dad.

Date not necessarily ruined. But definitely not what he had planned.

🌸 After a week of having, he fondly named the cat a human name — Yuuji, and the fur baby took just as much liking to it as his owner did him. You do have to teach him the ropes and warn your boyfriend that he’d better be ready to have some of his stuff deep-cleaned if Yuuji doesn’t get to the litter box in time.

Satoru and Suguru take to the kitten like two doting parents. And as much as they still kinda dislike your boyfriend taking you from them, they still help train him to use the litter box. (Long story short, they felt bad after seeing you cry after they’d tore up [and peed] all over your third couch and quit being as ornery as they used to be.)

A few months had passed since Sukuna got Yuuji plopped into his lap, since you two had become a couple. It was always amusing seeing your big boyfriend playing with such a small cat. Honestly, the cat looked like he was part tiger.

You feel overwhelmed with contentment. You have a good job, a wonderful boyfriend (who’s apparently secretly rich) who loves to give you kisses, and two cats who love you. You have enough now, so why was the universe trying to take that from you?

You don’t know how your ex got your number, but what you do know is that you have to tell Sukuna. No later than tomorrow.

You exhale. You can’t think about it. You’ll tell him. You’ll tell him tomorrow that your dyed blonde-haired ex wants to see you again. You’re hopefully of one thing though: that the moment your boyfriend meets your ex, you hope Sukuna has enough restraint to not beat the shit out of him.

“Baby, you okay?”

Sukuna’s brows are raised. One would miss the concern on his face if they didn’t know him as well as you do.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” Woman up, girl, you tell yourself. “I do have something to tell you later. Just… remind me before dinner.”

The concern becomes more evident on his face, which prompts you to walk to him and kiss him.

“It’s nothing serious… I don’t think. Don’t worry,” you reassure him, partially reassuring yourself. “What we should worry about is what’s for dinner,” you joke. “Don’t think I can eat those leftovers.”

“Goddamn, I’m sorry I put too much salt in it.”

You laugh, wanting this happiness to ever be trampled on. You’ll do what you can to protect and keep it.

taglist:

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #jjk sukuna #modern! sukuna #modern au

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etfrin · 3 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, cunnilingus, Coriolanus Snow, cumming untouched | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow gets punished and then he gets himself a reward

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 so here's another update guys! I hope y'all will like it! Thank you!

beta read by my darling 😽 @nowitsmissing

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Coriolanus didn't know what to expect from you. You were beyond his logic. He liked that about you, but he couldn't help but get paranoid because of it. So many truths were revealed yesterday. His love for you confessed shamelessly, horribly. He had expected it to be romantic, it was raw and monstrous.

Not a tale they could tell their future children.

But it was on brand for them, he knew. He couldn't expect anything less. Snow already felt himself going half insane with the punishment you said you'd give him. He couldn't bear guessing, knowing that you'd prove him wrong anyway.

Then he realized… you hadn't spoken a word to him since this morning. Not a word, not a single glance, nothing… Much like his reaction when he saw you yesterday. His face was blank, he kept quiet until he was alone with you.

Was the punishment silent treatment?

Huh… it's not the worst.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

He lied.

It was much, much, worse. Coriolanus Snow wasn't a jealous man. He simply thought that some people were worthy of more, and he is those people. And therefore, only he is worthy of the teasing smile you were giving to some of the Peacekeepers! They were worthless. You have his name carved on your skin, he was disgusted by the expression you were giving them.

Maybe, he was overreacting, but he saw no need to be this friendly with them. However, he knew a logical sense that being on their good side especially while staying in the district is important. That doesn't mean you have to smile at them, pay attention to them, and converse with them!

You were driving him insane.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Sejanus was getting attention from you, but not him? This wasn't punishment any longer, it was torture. Sejanus asked you about why you didn't reply to his letters. It wasn't a lie when you said you didn't receive them. And Sejanus believed you easily enough, his attention more directed in showing his gratefulness when you pulled out some of his old books.

Your ma gave them to me, you had said.

Coriolanus believed it. He wondered if Tigris gave anything of his to you, he wondered if you were still connected to his family the way you were with Sejanus.

Coriolanus Snow wanted you to be a part of his family, he wanted you to be closer to his grandma’am than Sejanus Ma.

He revisited the letters from Tigris, and there wasn't a single mention of you. But he had found out they had lost the damn penthouse, however they had enough for food and other necessities through Tigris. It was thanks to the small business she had managed to stand up after she had designed clothes for you.

He didn't try to suppress the guilt he felt as he found out about this right now when it was addressed weeks ago. Coriolanus slowly but surely replied to each letter of Tigris individually. It took all night, but Tigris was family. She didn't abandon him and Coriolanus will be damned before he does the same.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus' jaw was bruised from the punch he had taken. It wasn't his fault, really, getting into a fight with his fellow Peacekeepers. He was frustrated, he wondered just how long you'd keep this stupid, childish behavior up.

He punched back, and he was sure that he had broken the jaw of his opponent. He built up much-needed strength after being here for months after all. It was a silly fight. The boys were talking about you. It was typical of men, but with how quickly the words turned crude he didn't tolerate another word.

He was quick to punch the man that started it and surprisingly Sejanus didn't play the mediator for once. The Plinth boy joined in, helping Sejanus beat up the man. They both got a punishment from Commander Hoff.

It was worth it.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus couldn't take it anymore. It had been days. Specifically, 96 hours to be exact. Not that he was counting or anything. He marched you to your room, he even knocked.

He received no answer. He lets out a sigh, knocking till his knuckles hurt. “Come on,” he said, knowing you will be able to hear his voice. “Open the door,” he commanded.

You didn't open the door.

“Open the door,” he said, his tone softer.

Nothing. He couldn't hear anything from your side either.

Then he lets out a shaky breath, his palm pressed on the wood. “Please, please, please,” he begs, his voice low, “please, please…”

Nothing.

Finally, he tried the doorknob, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. He was breaking down, and the room was empty. You weren't even here.

He may or may not have cried.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

After Coriolanus had showered, he learned that you and Sejanus were at The Hob. The Peacekeepers were given the day off, and while he spent it crying inside of your room, you were having fun. That's fucking enough.

Snow couldn't take it anymore.

When he went there, he could see Lucy Gray and several others performing a song. Another day, he would enjoy it, but it was different because he couldn't find you in the crowd and he grew agitated.

His eyes were red, his jaw bruised purple-blue. It hurt, even after the cold shower. But it didn't matter. He will have you look at him tonight. He will have you speak to him. The world be damned. Coriolanus is much more fucking significant.

Wasn't he?

Coryo pushes through the crowd to find himself at the corner of the warehouse The Hob was in. He stopped as he saw you leaning on the wall. You weren't alone. But you weren't with Sejanus or any other Peacekeepers.

You were with Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's infamous ex and the boyfriend of the mayor's daughter.

You were smiling at him, both of you were so incredibly close to each other that Coriolanus wanted to tear distance between the both of you. Coriolanus could hear the thump of his heartbeat, every other sound quiet in his mind as he walked towards the both of you.

He catches you and he sees your lips form a smirk, as you pull Billy Taupe closer. And closer. Oh, fuck no. He reaches at the right time, pulling him off you and pinning him to a wall.

“That's my girl, motherfucker,” he growls.

He throws the boy on the floor, gathering the attention of several around him. Snow didn't care, he was seeing red. He was beyond pissed. He was seething. He vaguely noticed that the music had stopped as he straddled Billy Taupe, pinning him to the ground with his hand on the shoulder. He used his free hand to repeat punches, again and again until his knuckles were more red than anything.

Coriolanus could hear the screaming of Billy. He heard the cries of Maudy Ivory; he heard the plea in Sejanus' voice as he begged him to stop. Sejanus and a few others tried but couldn't get him off, he was feral. He was going to kill Billy Taupe. He was going to enjoy it.

“Coryo, stop.”

He stills. Of course, he does.

Anything for his love.

“Get off.”

He obeys, his chest rising up and down as he turns towards you. He offered you his hand, not caring that blood was dripping off of it. You take it, intertwining his fingers with yours. Smearing the blood on your skin, taking half the blame for it in the metaphorical sense. Coriolanus was glad he wasn't alone anymore.

He couldn't survive being alone.

You take the lead as both of you walk away from the scene. None of the spectators dare to stop you. Coriolanus and you walk, it's dark and no one can see as tears fall from his eyes again. The saltiness in the air could easily be mistaken that it is due to the blood.

If you hear him sniff, you don't say anything. He is grateful for that. Soon, both of you reach the room you were staying in. You walk in, still holding Snow's hand. Coriolanus follows you without a question.

He lets go of your hand. He gets on both of his knees, he gasps, more tears falling from his eyes. He looks up at you and sees you looking down at him. The only light was from the moon coming through the window in the corner. You were being showered in it.

“Never again,” he whispered, his voice raspy.

More tears fall. He can't help it. He's so overwhelmed by the anger of what you did and the attention you were finally giving him.

“Never again what?” You demanded.

He tries to swallow his pride away. Besides you, it was the only thing he had left. He can't do it. He can't so he looks away. What was he supposed to say? ‘I'll never misbehave?’ He wasn't a dog in training. He's not supposed to bark when you ask him. Yet he was. It was humiliating being stripped like this. And you didn't even ask for it, he volunteered because there was no other choice.

“Tell me what you won't do again. You'll never punch Billy? You'll never choke me? You'll never kiss another girl?”

No, no, and yes.

“I wo- won't ever kiss anyone except you.”

“Good…” You clearly expected a sorry but Coriolanus couldn't give it to you. ‘Just forgive me,’ he wanted to yell. Instead, he gets up and walks towards your table. He opened the drawer to take out a knife. The same knife he had used to carve his initials on your skin.

“Not today,” you said before he could press the sharp edge on his skin.

“Why?” He said shocked, more tears burned his eyes. Wasn't he forgiven? Wasn't this enough?

“Just…” you walked towards him, pressing him onto the wood and taking the knife from his hand. You place it on the table before your hand gently holds his jaw. You tilt his head to look at the bruise on his face. “You're hurt enough for today.”

“Then give me something else,” he said.

“What?”

“Your taste.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. When you did, your eyes went wide and your breaths fastened. He certainly enjoyed the reaction that meant a yes. He still waited for a verbal answer before he took any action.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He quickly switches places with you before he guides you to the bed and makes you sit down on it. You follow his lead. Coriolanus gets on his knees again. This time to make you scream his name.

He takes off your black stockings with great care. Make sure not to cause an accidental tear on the delicate fabric. He even takes off your heels. You raise your hips so your skirt and panties can slide down past your legs and onto the floor.

He breathes in much-needed air to calm his heartbreak as he takes in the view in front of him. He dreamed of this for so many nights that it didn't feel real. He parts your legs with his hands, creating space between your thighs. He leans in, caging himself. If he dies from suffocation, then he dies happy.

He felt your hand on his buzzcut, your nails gently scratching his scalp. He lets out a whine, his nose pressed to your thigh. He breathes in the scent of your arousal and lets out a groan. Coriolanus could feel his pants getting tight.

Snow closes the gap between your wet pussy and his tongue with a slow, languid lick. You moan above him, already sensitive. He sees your cunt clenching around nothing. He sharpened his tongue and pressed the tip to your leaking slit. Up, and down he moves the wet muscle, his tongue sliding inside of you and you encourage this action with your thighs tightening around his head.

He digs into his meal, letting his tongue wander all over your sloppy, wet cunt with wonder. He moans as your juices coat his tongue. He loves the taste of you. He knew he would find himself addicted to this. He finds something like a bud as his tongue wanders. When he flicks it, you cry out of pleasure. So he lets his tongue work, his hands on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh.

He flicks the pearl with the tip of his tongue again and again, until he knows it's swollen. Then he takes the bud in his mouth and sucks, it was too rough. He knew because you cried out, your hips pushing up and he had to press you down.

“Coryo!” You cry out and he lets your clit pop out of his mouth. He kisses the swollen, abused, and oversensitive bud before he returns attention to your folds. He broadly licks making sure to have all of your arousal on his tongue only, he didn't want to miss a single drop.

He snakes in a hand between your legs, his thumb finding your clit. He used his other hand to make sure your leg was spread wide and nice for him to feast. He pressed into the bud with the pad of his finger. The pressure gives you pure bliss in your veins. He feels your pussy clench again, oozing out more arousal. He licks it all up, his tongue fucking into your walls. His thumb begins to draw rough circles on your swollen clit. You whimper and whine.

The sounds are music to his ears. Quickly enough you begin to warn him, “Gonna cum, Coryo!” He only fastens his actions, getting rougher, sloppier and so much more needy to have you cum on his damn face. ‘Cum, cum, cum,’ he chants in his head, utterly and pathetically desperate for you.

You scream out his name, the coil in your tummy snapping as your pussy spasms and cum all over his face. His tongue slows down, leisurely tasting your release. You have to push him away when he doesn't stop and you could feel yourself getting tired. Your bones turn to jelly.

Coriolanus leans back, wiping his mouth. He looks down at his pants and frowns as he sees a wet spot on his pants. That explains the relief he felt. He had come inside of his pants. He doesn't let the embarrassment take him over. It was too dark to see anything after all.

He stands up and sees you all crossed-eyed. He grins, and he gently pats your cheek trying to get you to your senses. “Bye, dove,” he whispered with a smirk.

As he walks down the hallway he wonders who truly won this round.

After all, he was the one who got what he wanted and you gave it to him just like that.

NEXT PART

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alotofpockets · 3 months

Text

Regret | Alexia Putellas x Reader & Leah Williamson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Where Alexia regrets breaking up with you.

A/n: happiest of birthdays to @greynatomy 💗 Also pretend that everything in italics is actually said in spanish :)

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k

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You checked your phone when you got back to the locker room after practice. The name you were hoping to see wasn’t among your notifications, so you dropped it back in your pocket with a sombre look. Leah noticed the action she had repeatedly seen over the past couple of days, and decided that she had waited long enough to not ask questions. “Movie night at my place tonight.” By the way she didn’t say it in the form of a question, you knew there was no getting out of this. “Fine, but you’re ordering pizza.” Leah smiled, having achieved what she wanted, “You know I would never say no to pizza.”

That’s how you found yourself in front of the apartment you knew all too well. When you moved from Barcelona to England just six months ago, Leah had taken you in for the first few weeks, until you found a place in London. Your national teammate Laia had offered as well, but as much as you loved her you took the bed offered by Leah over the offer of her couch. Which ended up being a great decision because you and Leah got close right away, and you would call her one of your best friends currently. You check your phone once more, hoping for that one name to show up, but it wasn’t there so you used the spare key to let yourself into Leah’s place.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Leah yelled out from her bedroom. You quickly put a fake smile on your face when you heard her walking towards you. Leah pretended to not notice for now, and greeted you like nothing happened. She hoped that in the comfort of a one on one hang out you would open up to her on your own, but when you were half way through the movie, and you still hadn’t said anything, she decided that she had given you enough time to come to her. So, the next time your phone buzzed, and your face fell without opening the notification, she paused the movie. “Okay, what’s going on?” You look anywhere but at her, “Nothing is going on Lee, let’s just watch the movie.”

However, Leah wasn’t going to move on so quickly. “You keep checking your phone, and then looking disappointed, and don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve been noticing it all week. Please just tell me what’s going on. Is it Ale?” Your eyes snapped up at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. The broken look behind them said enough for Leah to know that it had everything to do with Alexia. “What did she do? Do I need to fly to Barca to knock some sense into her?” You sigh in frustration, “It isn’t exactly what she did, it’s what she hasn’t done.” Leah was ready to listen and nodded for you to continue. “So, she’s barely spoken to me all week. No video calls, or regular calls, just a couple texts here and there. I keep trying to have a normal conversation with her, and I just get short answers. I’ve asked if she’s okay, and she just keeps saying that everything is fine.” Tears well in your eyes. “It’s not fine though. It can’t be fine, if she’s literally shutting me out.”

Your phone lights up in the middle of your conversation, and both of you stare at the message that popped up on your screen.

Alexia: Can we talk?

The dreaded message that you were expecting to receive in the back of your mind. Though you didn’t know the extent of the talk she wanted to have, you knew it couldn’t mean something good after this week. “Are you okay?” Leah put her hand on your knee. “No I’m not, but let’s just get this call over with.” She nodded in understanding, with a squeeze of your knee she got up. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Y/n: Sure, call me

In the back of your mind you knew exactly what this conversation was going to result in, Alexia had been pulling away from you, so there was only one logical outcome of this call for you. You picked up the video call, “Hey.” You left out all nicknames, not wanting to put in unnecessary effort, plus it’s not like she said 'hi' before asking you if you could talk. “Hi y/n, oh you’re not home, we can just talk later.” It felt like a stab in your chest, hearing her use your first name. With a shake of your head you say, “It’s fine, let’s just get this over with, Ale.”

Alexia started shuffling around nervously. “I’m sorry to do this over a call, but I think we need to break up.” There it was, the words you had seen coming, but still hurt more than you could have imagined. You stared blankly at your screen, not really knowing what to say. Alexia understood, and continued talking. “It’s just been hard on me to do this whole distance thing. There’s a lot going on, and I just need you here by my side. I know I can’t ask you to move back, because you deserve to play at your dream club. So, I think that what’s best for me right now is for us to let each other go.” Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “Why is the first I’m hearing of this while you’re breaking up with me? I thought communication was so important to you. How long have you been feeling this way?” There was an anger to your tone that made Alexia not be able to keep eye contact. “I didn’t come to this decision rashly, if that’s what you’re asking.” You blink away the tears, your sadness making room for anger. “How long, Alexia?” You stared at her angrily until you got an answer. “About a month.”

“You are unbelievable. How could you just not say anything? You literally didn’t even give us a fighting chance.” The tears were back. “I’m sorry.” Alexia said softly. “Save your sorrys, they’re not going to fix this.” She nodded, “I know.” You close your eyes, “I guess this is it then.” With a defeated sigh you open your eyes again. “I’m really sorry.” You roll your eyes, “Save it. I’m going to hang up now, I need some space.” With a shaking finger you pressed the end call button without giving Alexia a chance to respond.

After giving yourself a minute you make your way over to Leah’s room, which you enter after a soft knock. You found her sitting with her headphones on, even though she didn’t understand Spanish, she still wanted to give you your space, which you appreciated. Leah didn’t need to hear you say the words, she could read on your face that it was exactly what you had been thinking. “Oh love, come here.” She patted the bed and opened her arms. You laid down without a second thought, and let her hold you tight. In the comfort of her arms, your tears flowed freely.

You stayed the night at Leah’s, you didn’t have to ask, and she didn’t have to offer, it just was. Leah had fallen asleep a while ago. You were glad that you weren’t ruining her sleep as well, because you had an early wake up call for a match in the morning. Your mind kept running circles. Three years down the drain like it was nothing, how could she just break-up with you without ever voicing her troubles?

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep though, because Leah gently shook you awake. “Hey, I’ve got breakfast ready.” You send her a questioning look, Leah didn’t cook. “Okay fine, you’ve got me. Lia picked up breakfast on the way over.” With a small smile you get up and follow her to the kitchen. By the way Lia held you just a little longer in the hug, you knew that Leah had told her. “Stop it Wally, you're going to make me cry.” You didn't mind Leah telling her, cause it meant that it would be one less person you would have to tell yourself. “Thank you for the food, but I'm not really hungry.” Lia nodded, “Okay, I'll just pack some of it up for you then, you're gonna have to eat something before the match.” You knew she was right, so you let her pack up some food, and add it to your backpack, while you slumped down on the couch.

Lia and Leah were talking in the kitchen, while you were staring at the living room ceiling. Your phone dings with a new message, and out of habit you check it right away. The name you so desperately wanted to see pop up all week, now made your stomach turn, and your heart clench.

Alexia: I'm really sorry, I never meant to hurt you.

You threw your phone in frustration, the device landing on the floor with a loud tud, making Leah enter the room right away. “What's wrong?” Leah picks up the phone and checks if it's okay in the process. “Fucking Alexia clearly doesn't understand what needing space means.” Leah rolled her eyes, “She never learned to listen, did she?” In the short time that Leah had known you, she had heard you complain about the little communication things Alexia lacked to improve on many times.

Lia entered the living room, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to head out or we're going to miss the bus.” You grab your bag and head to the front door, without a care for your phone, so Leah pockets it in case you would want it later. Lia headed to the driver's seat, and you took the back, letting Leah sit in front with Lia. You were down, and did not want to pull either one of them down with you, especially not before a match.

You arrived at London Colney for a final pre-match meeting to go over the tactics. Usually, once you arrived you mingled with your teammates, but now you stuck to Leah's side like a lost puppy. Arsenal had taken you in as a part of their own right from the start, you loved the family vibe the team had, and often found yourself amongst the jokers in the group. Today however when a hyper looking Kyra and Beth made their way over, you didn't budge when they tried to pull you away. “What’s up with you, party pooper?” Beth asks with a furrowed brow. “Ale broke up with me, are you happy now?” You snapped at the striker, loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. With widened eyes you apologise to Beth, before you walk out of the room, not being able to handle all your teammates staring at you with pity. Beth wanted to follow you to apologise, but Leah stopped her. “It’s okay, just let her be for a moment.”

After a few minutes you entered the room again, so the meeting could start. “I’m sorry.” Beth whispers, as you sit down next to her. You lean your head on her shoulder, “No, I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arm around you for the duration of the meeting, hoping to offer some comfort.

On the bus towards the stadium you were playing at today you sat by yourself in the front row, while the rest of the team sat together in the back, still needing a bit of space. Once the bus started driving, Leah walked up to the front. “I’m fine, Lee.” You said before even letting her say anything. “I know you are, just thought you would like these for the drive.” She handed you her headphones and her phone. “Thank you.” You appreciated her and her thoughtfulness, having her phone to play music would mean no messages from Alexia popping up.

Your anger towards Alexia showed in your playing style that match, you were more aggressive, and sliding in any time you could. At one point Leah had to tell you to take it easy, but you managed to get away without any cards, and the team won the match.

The next few weeks you had to get over Alexia. You didn’t want to live in the bubble of sadness that the breakup had created around you. It helped not being in the same country as her, not being able to just walk into her, and also your surroundings not having her written all over them. You spend a lot of your time with your Arsenal teammates, weekly bonding nights with the whole team, and random outings with one group or another.

When international break was around the corner, you felt confident in saying you were mostly over Alexia. Sure, some things still hurt you, but in your mind you could still be affected by something even though you were over your ex.

Laia was sitting next to you at the airport gate when the rooming schedule was shared in the group, you scanned for your name, and realised they had kept you with Alexia just like last camp. Laia must’ve seen it too, because without having to mention anything, she told you she would get it sorted. She got her roommate to switch with you, so you would room with Laia for this camp.

When you arrived at the Spanish training grounds, you were happy to see your teammates again, but seeing Alexia amongst them was definitely a mood crusher. You tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, and just ignore and avoid her, so you would be able to enjoy the time with your friends. You were mostly able to do that, for about an hour. That is when Alexia came knocking on your door. Laia is the one to open, “Hey, is y/n here?” You didn’t want to put Laia in the middle of your issues with Alexia, so you walked to the door. “What do you want?” Her eyes diverted to the ground, “Can we talk for a moment?” You didn’t want to talk, but knew that it was probably for the best, if you were going to be at the same location for the upcoming two weeks, as well as playing together. So, you close the door behind you and follow her to an empty room in the building.

It stayed silent for a few minutes, long awkward minutes in your experience, but you weren’t going to start whatever conversation Alexia wanted to have. So, you waited for Alexia to speak up while inspecting every uninteresting thing in the room. “Y/n, I really messed up. I miss you, I should have never broken up with you. I should’ve fought for us, I wish I fought for us. Can I still fight for us?” You couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You really hurt me, Alexia. I don’t think you understand how much pain you’ve caused me.” Alexia steps towards you, “Trust me, I do understand. I’ve been miserable over this.” You take a step back right away, “If you understood, you wouldn’t be asking me for a second chance. I can never trust you the way I did before. You didn’t fight for us when you needed to. We are over Ale, there no longer is an us to fight for.” And with that you left the room.

The week of training before the two friendlies you would play went by fast. You avoided Alexia as much as possible, but during training exercises you set aside your differences because football was a team effort, and you didn’t want your personal situation to affect the team’s results.

Your first friendly against Italy went down without a hitch, earning a final score of 4-1. You were however looking forward to your second friendly against England more. Not only playing against your Arsenal teammates Leah, Beth, Alessia, and Lotte, but also seeing them again. It hadn’t been that long ago of course, but since you were so close with the team, you were missing them dearly.

After a 2-2 draw you walked around the field shaking hands with the Lionesses, and found Leah on the field who you brought in for a hug. She kissed your cheek before Beth came flying in with a hug, but the moment wasn’t missed by Alexia who had been watching the interaction from the dugout. You had told her the two of you were over, but that interaction finalised it for her. You really weren’t hers anymore.

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#alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #spain wnt #spain women's national team #lionesses #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal women #awfc x reader

591 notes · View notes

hyunniesgirl · 4 months

Text

Bad intentions | Part 2

Pairing: Han Jisung x afab!reader

Summary: you thought you could turn Han Jisung into the perfect boyfriend material so you can get revenge on your cheating ex. Little did you know that you would end up getting much more than just a guy to show off.

Words count: 13,668(Idk don't look at me)

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact!

It's advised to read part 1 before this one for context and better understanding of the plot.

Part 1 | Love is a mess: series masterlist

Warnings: dry humping, handjob, fingering, cursing, pet names(baby, pretty), oral(f, m receiving), unprotected piv(for the love of god don't do this irl), jealousy, angst, fluff

A/N: here I am again, procrastinating what I should be doing just so I can take this fic out of my head. Hope you guys like it ❣️

Seunghoon was never one to do acts of service, he would tell you he loved you and even though you didn't always believe that, that's what he offered and you just took it. You always thought that that was everything you deserved, better a bit of affection than no affection at all.

So you didn't expect to find Jisung waiting for you the next morning. He's outside of his car, scrolling on his phone, leaning against the vehicle.

You close your front door slowly, like he can just disappear if you make any hasty movements. As if Jisung can feel your presence, he lifts his eyes looking in your direction, smiling and waving to you.

“Fancy seeing you here”, he jokes, tilting his head when you come closer.

“In front of my… house?” You ask, smiling and he shrugs, embarrassed. He didn't really think it through, he just got into his car and when he realized, he was in front of your house.

“I just thought we could go to school together”, he kicks a rock on the ground, losing confidence, “but it's okay if you don't want to”

You step closer to him, taking his hand into yours and interlacing your fingers. That sudden electricity from before running through all your body the moment you touch him.

“Maybe you can convince me”, you tilt your head, biting on your lower lip while looking at his lips, looking extremely kissable.

“How?” His head snaps to look at you, following your gaze and understanding what you're suggesting. He feels his ears warm, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his.

Jisung kisses you, the warmth of his touch spreading all over your body. His tongue brushes against your lips and one of his hands slides through your hair, pulling it lightly.

You open your mouth slowly, too intoxicated by his scent to think clearly, putting your hands on his hips, sliding up just to find his deliciously small waist that you could never notice with the baggy clothes he wears.

“Well, you're full of surprises, aren't you?” You say when you two finally part the kiss.

He frowns, looking at you breathless.

“Shall we?” You ask, pointing at the car and he nods, turning around and opening the door for you. Before going in, you look at him, a playful smile on your lips. “You'll get me to do a lot of things if you keep using these means of persuasion”

For the first time in your life you don't want the spotlight to be on you, you feel uncomfortable being the center of attention. You know exactly why people are staring when you arrive at school with Jisung.

You wish you were being judged by showing up with a new guy barely a month after breaking up with Seunghoon, but that's not it.

People are looking at Jisung, you know they are. You don't mind the snickering comments or the idiotic jokes directed at you, but you don't want him to go through that.

“Should we have lunch together?” He asks you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Actually, I don't know if I'll have lunch today”, you lie. If you think logically, you should try to stay away from him at school. Maybe people won't target him if you do that.

“Do you want me to take you home after school, then?” He asks, frowning, finding your sudden change of attitude strange.

“There's no need, I have practice”, you avoid his eyes, ashamed of yourself.

You're an idiot, you shouldn't have made such hasty decisions. You should have thought about how mean people would be to him if you brought him into the spotlight with you.

Jisung feels his stomach sinking in and he can't help but take a look at himself, he never really cared about the way he dressed. He wears anything that he finds that's clean, not worried about looking good or fashionable.

He has always been the smart guy, the one who has no care in the world other than the things he has his eyes set on and that has always been his studies and music.

His family was shocked when he chose a career in music since he could do anything else. He has the brains to choose any path that had success guaranteed but he chose something as uncertain as a career in the music industry.

He did end up being successful anyway, after meeting his friends and forming 3racha, it didn't take long for them to land a contract with a big label. The three of them stayed in college though, each for a different reason.

Looking at you though, you're very different from him. You worry about your image and what people think about you. If he looks at you, from your hair to your shoes everything is matched to perfection. You're always nice with everyone, even with the people you know talk shit about you and you still keep your grades up.

So why, someone who worries so much about her image would want to be seen with someone like him?

He never worried about his clothes or being popular, but now? He's very worried about those exact things. If you end up dating him, how will people perceive you? You're the center of attention so the person who's dating you, automatically will be in that same center.

Jisung decides to wait for you after practice, he knows you told him not to, but he knows that if he stays in his head, he'll go crazy – thinking about all the worst case scenarios where you're going to dump his ass anytime now just because he's not popular enough.

You smile when you see him but it dies down a few seconds later, when a group of girls from your cheer squad walks past you, laughing about something.

“Hey”, he says when you get closer.

“You didn't have to pick me up”, you say awkwardly, hoping he didn't hear what those girls said.

“Yeah, but I thought you would be too tired to walk back home-”

“It's just a short walk”, you tell him, pressing your lips in a thin line. He stares at you for a moment, frowning, debating in his mind if he should say something about your strange behavior and knowing that if he doesn't, it will eat him alive.

“Y/N?” He starts, voice too serious, “are you embarrassed because of me?”

Jisung really doesn't want to hear your answer, it would crush him if you said yes but he has the slight hope that you will deny it.

“No! No, absolutely not”, you shake your head frantically. He feels a huge weight being lifted off his back but at the same time, he still doesn't understand why you were acting like that.

“But then why-” you cut him mid sentence, taking a deep breath. Bold of you to assume that a person as smart as him wouldn't notice how you were acting.

“People can be really mean”, you tell him, “I'm afraid you're going to go through a hard time because of me”, you pout, feeling like crying. What if he agrees with you? What if he doesn't think you're worth the trouble?

“Why would you think that?” He searches for your hands, holding them and pulling you closer.

“If you date me, people are going to talk about you and I don't want you to hear the same things I have to”, you tell him, honestly.

Popularity is great, you love the attention but it has its downsides. The amount of times you had to listen to people talking shit about you in the restroom, when they didn't know you were there, is wild. You lost count of how many times you walked in on a conversation of someone talking something bad about you and you had to pretend like you didn't know.

You don't want Jisung to experience that, he's invisible now and he enjoys that, it's not fair that you would take him out of his comfort zone just to date you.

“What about you?” He asks, making you look at him with a frown. “You don't care that I don't know how to dress and that I’m basically invisible?”

You smile. Against your better judgment you don't, you really don't.

“I mean, if you could just let me take you to a hairstylist”, you say, lifting your hand to his face and brushing his hair to the side. “I really want to be able to look at your eyes while talking to you”, you joke.

“Ouch”, he puts his hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt. “I don't care what people say about me, okay? I only care about what you think”, he informs you, as if he didn't make that clear already.

“Are you sure?” You ask once more, giving him a chance to escape, even though you don't want him to.

“I am”, he nods, pulling you even closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. “So, can I have lunch with you from now on? And take you to and back from school? Hm?”

You nod, smiling happily.

“I'd love that”

You decide to let people talk, if Jisung doesn't care about it then neither will you, and let's say that after that conversation things just got hotter between you two.

Classrooms, cars, under the bleachers, the locker rooms, there's no place where your makeout sessions didn't reach. You just can't really behave yourself in his presence, when you two are alone you just have to touch each other and after that you just can't help what comes next.

Everyday. Before, between and after classes you're all over each other. You're covered in hickeys, your hair is always a mess and lipstick just won't last on your lips for long. Jisung is no better than you, the only difference is that he can hide the love bites more easily and his flustered face is less noticeable than yours.

You are both in his car trying to get to the restaurant before one of you yields and try to touch the other, when his phone rings.

“Hey”, he says, putting on speaker while he keeps driving.

“I’m sorry to call, I know you're on a date”, you hear Chan's tired voice on the other side of the line, “but my laptop died for whatever reason and the song we prepared to send tomorrow morning was there, I didn't have time to make a backup”, he sighs.

“We lost everything?” Han asks, panic in his voice.

“No, we have the unfinished version on Changbin's laptop but we lost what we worked on yesterday”, Chan explains and Han nods, even though his friend can't see him.

“Okay, yeah, I can go there and-”, he stops mid sentence, looking at you puzzled. “You are out of the city, right?” He asks Chan.

“Yes and Changbin has a test tomorrow, he won't be able to do it”

“Can I go to the studio with you?” You ask and Han nods, confused. “Then we are going to be there soon, Chan, don't worry”, you tell.

“Thank you”, Chan sighs, giving his goodbye and hanging up.

“Are you sure?” Jisung asks, watching you pick up your phone in your purse.

“Yeah”, you shrug, “we can have dinner in a fancy restaurant another time”, you say, calling the said restaurant so you can cancel your reservation.

Jisung watches you talking calmly with the restaurant, feeling grateful, you didn't have to be so understanding.

“Should we order some fried chicken?” You ask, after hanging up, “unfortunately they won't give us a refund”

“It's okay”, Jisung chuckles, “and I'd love fried chicken”

“To tell you the truth, fancy stuff is not my cup of tea”, you tell him, “I much rather have some chicken and beer”

“Well, my lady”, he smiles at you, “luckily for you I know a great place that sell exactly those things”

You watch Jisung work, he looks so professional while doing whatever he's doing. He's focused, a few strands of hair falling slightly over his eyes. His hands work fast, mixing, going back and forth and fixing different parts.

You sit there on the couch, waiting for him to finish. One, two, three hours go by. It's one in the morning when he sighs, closing the laptop and turning his chair towards you.

“Are you done?” You ask, hopeful and Jisung nods, standing up and walking to the couch, sitting comfortably on your side, resting his head on the back of the couch. Eyes closed trying to rest his eyes. “Did you make a backup?” You tease, watching him open his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at you.

“I did”, he chuckles, “and sent the backup to Changbin and Chan too”

“That's good”, you tell him, snuggling closer.

“Sorry that we didn't have a proper date”, he says.

“Don't be sorry. I think this is great”, you shrug, “I had good food and got to see you looking hot while working, that sounds like a win win for me”

Jisung laughs, shaking his head to your antics.

“Still, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know”, he tells you.

That's when you realize Han Jisung doesn't know you at all, this man shouldn't give someone like you an opening like that.

“Oh, in that case”, you bite your bottom lip. “I have some ideas of how you can make it up to me”

You lean closer to him, face centimeters away from his.

“You could start with this”, you give him a peck on the lips, “and then you can go down here”, you kiss his jaw, going down to his neck, “then you can use your imagination here”, you suck on the skin that already has purple ish marks fading away.

“Is that right?” Eyes darkening, his hands land on your hips, pulling you closer.

“Mmn”, you agree with a shit eating grin on your face.

“And what about this?” He grabs your hips, bringing you to his lap. Your cheeks grow hotter, he's so much more bold than when you started seeing each other. “Do you like it?” He tilts his head, brows arched and a smirk on his lips.

“Where did the guy that freaked out about the thought of receiving nudes go?” You pout, you hate that he can so easily get you flustered.

Jisung throws his head back, chuckling while looking down on you. He tightens the grip on your hips, pressing your body closer to him. You can feel something hard beneath you and that doesn't help you at all, your face growing even more red.

“I had to change my approach when I realized you like to tease”, he brings his face closer to yours, “but you have no experience with being teased”, he smiles, seeing your breathing halt. You're cute.

He kisses you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, rubbing your aching core on his hard on. You gasp, feeling the sudden stimulation but he keeps his lips on you, tongue brushing on yours slowly making you dizzy.

Jisung slides his hands to your thighs, pulling your skirt up so he can grab the flesh of your ass and squeeze it.

“Hannie”, you whisper, feeling his cock pressing against your clothed clit, making the knot in your lower stomach grow.

“Hm?” He asks, Jisung just loves when you use that nickname to call him. “Are you enjoying yourself, pretty?” He teases and you nod, moving your hips on your own, chasing your high.

You look at Jisung, brushing the strands of hair out of his eyes, biting on your lower lip before kissing him. You look so majestic riding him, he has no words so he tries to show you how turned on he is by kissing you with all the lust he has in himself. Hands on your hips forcing you closer to him, stimulating you more.

“I-I'm c-close”, you struggle to say, feeling all the heat spreading all over your body as you bend down and bite his shoulder to contain the loud moan you let out.

Jisung wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck and leaving kisses on your sweaty skin. You're kind of embarrassed, you didn't think you would be doing something like that in a place like here.

“Next time let me hear you, yeah?” He teases and you groan, slapping his arm.

“No, what if someone heard me?” You protest and he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“There's no one here at this hour”, he reassures you, “but anyone that ever heard you moaning should thank you, baby”, he gives a peck on your lips, biting your bottom lip.

“You didn't finish, right?” You sigh, closing your eyes to the feeling of his cock still hard as a rock beneath you.

“Don't worry about it”, he shrugs, “I got to make you cum, that's enough for me”, he smirks, too proud of himself but you have your own pride, no way you're going to let him see you like this and not do the same.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, getting out of his lap and comfortable by his side on the couch, waiting for his answer so you can unzip his pants.

“You don't need to feel obligated”, he says but clears his throat when you glare at him, “yeah, you can”

You waste no time, working on opening his pants and pulling his underwear down to see his painfully hard cock, he's bigger than you thought he would be. You feel your core throbbing once more, just thinking about how you're going to make him fit inside you, that won't be easy but you're sure you can manage.

You grab his length with your hand, making him jump and whine. ‘What a beautiful sound’, you think.

Your hand starts moving up and down and you watch as Jisung throws his head back, mouth open, low moans coming out and eyes closed as he approaches his orgasm. He looks so pretty like that, so you get closer, leaning over and kissing him. Jisung groans, thrusting his hips against your fist, making even more lewd noises while you just watch him, face so close you can feel his breath hitting on your skin.

When his movements start faltering, he can feel his release and in a moment later his hot cum is spreading all over your hand.

“Fuck”, he says, ears turning red instantly when he comes down of his high. “I usually take longer”, he explains nervously, making you chuckle.

“I didn't say anything”, you shrug, finding his anxious eyes too cute.

“I'm serious”, he pouts, zipping his pants back on.

“Me too”, you chuckle, “you took way longer than most guys do, there was a hot girl humping on you and you didn't cum, that's a feat in itself”, you tell him and he bites back a smile, you're such an idiot. But cute, definitely cute.

Jisung watches as you get up, looking for the bathroom so you can clean yourself and he finds himself smiling alone, thinking of you. What are you doing to him? And why does he not mind it at all?

It doesn't take long for Seunghoon to find out who's the guy you're going out with and he doesn't waste any time to come and find you, being the asshole he is.

You're having lunch with Mina and Miyeon when you feel that familiar arm on top of your shoulders, his scent is the same, so there's no mistaking it.

“You didn't tell me the guy you're seeing is Han Jisung”, Seunghoon’s snarky voice feels like a knife being thrown at you. You grab his arm, tossing away from you, his touch makes you sick.

“Didn't think I owed you a full report of who I'm dating now”, you say back, rolling your eyes.

“Well, I mean”, he sneers, “I thought your standards were higher”

You feel your face turning red, not from embarrassment, no, it's anger, the only reaction this man can get out of you now.

“Of course my standards are higher”, you take a deep breath, knowing very well that if you punch him in the face right now, he's going to win. “That's why I went for someone much better than you”, you roll your eyes.

“Please, in what world that guy is better than me?” He laughs and you can't help but chuckle.

“I sure could tell you all the things he's better than you, but I don't think people really need to know about how disappointing you are in bed and outside of it too”, you finish, standing up. “Ah”, you turn to him before you can walk away, “don't come looking for me again, Jisung can get very jealous”

Walking home you're foaming at the mouth, who does he think he is to talk about Jisung in that way? Oh, you really wish you could have beat the hell out of him, fucking bastard. Well, fuck him, you're better off without that prick and you hope you don't have to think about him ever again.

As soon as you get home, you hear voices inside your house coming to the conclusion that your parents are home, as if things couldn't get worse.

You take a deep breath before turning the knob to open the door, meeting uninterested looks when you walk by the kitchen.

“Why did you arrive so late?” Your mom asks, not really looking at you now, much more interested in her phone.

“I had practice”, you say, opening the fridge to grab an apple. You're hungry but if you have to eat with them you're sure you're gonna have indigestion.

“Shouldn't you be studying?” Your father accuses you. “Your brother is the best student in every one of his classes”

“Well if I had that many expensive tutors I would be the best too”, you mumble, receiving a raised brow from the older man. “I don't have any exams for the time being”, you sigh, excusing yourself but before you can cross the door out of the kitchen you hear your mom's voice.

“We are going to travel again tomorrow, we just came home to get some things”, you nod, that's nothing new.

Jisung is walking back and forth in the living room of his apartment, waiting anxiously for Chan and Changbin to be back from their morning workout session.

You didn't see it, but Jisung was there at the dining hall. He froze dead in his tracks the moment he saw Seunghoon sitting with you, all the worst case scenarios coming to his mind. Did you go back to him? You wouldn't, right?

It's true that you and Jisung don't have anything official yet, but it looked like you liked him, so even though his brain was having a field day telling him you never once enjoyed being with him, it's hard for him to actually believe you would put him aside just like that.

He can hear everything, Seunghoon isn't trying to be quiet and he's saying the exact things you were afraid Jisung would hear. He doesn't care about people talking shit about him, the only thing he cares about is what you think about him and the way you just straight away told off your ex’s makes Jisung proud of you, proud of being with you.

However, even though you don't mind all the talks and mean comments, he does. He doesn't want to harm your reputation or more importantly he doesn't want to hurt you. So Jisung made the decision to become someone better, he wants to be better for you. So when his friends open the front door, carrying their gym bags, they bump into a restless Jisung.

“Can you help me?” He asks, making Changbin and Chan look at each other and nod, sitting down with their youngest to talk.

It's been years since the three met each other and every once in a while they tried to convince Jisung to accept their advice so he could be more popular.

It was exhausting, really, Jisung only cared about music and finishing college. His routine was basically going from the studio to university to home. Work, study and sleep, those are the things he usually cares about. So it was nice seeing him going out, meeting you. He's been happier recently and it's nice for them to see him trying to improve himself for you even though they both doubted your intentions at first.

“What do you have in mind?” Chan asks.

“She- hm… she said my hair is too long?” He says, a bit embarrassed.

“We've been telling you this for months”, Changbin whines.

“Well, I think I should get a haircut and buy some new clothes”, Jisung huffs.

“Shouldn't you ask y/n to help you out with that? I'm sure she would love that”, Chan grins.

“I want to surprise her”, the younger one smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay, then”, Chan nods, “give us time to take a shower-”

“And eat”, Changbin adds.

“And eat, then we can go”, Chan laughs, standing up and walking to his room.

Jisung didn't talk much with you for two straight days, he only answered the texts you sent him and every time you asked if he wanted to meet, he said he had other plans. You started to worry that maybe word got out about your little scene with Seunghoon that day, maybe Jisung got the wrong idea about you socializing with your ex.

You didn't think you would miss him so much, but you kept checking your phone to see if he had texted you and waited until late at night for a call but it never came.

Maybe Jisung could see right through you, under this facade you put on. Maybe he doesn't want someone as lonely as you, someone who needs his warmth to keep going.

You try distracting yourself with anything, staying after practice to train a new routine. After killing some time, you store the things you used for practice and go out.

When you're closing the gymnasium, you feel a familiar presence close to you, making you turn around with a businesslike smile on your face.

“How can I help… you?” You choke on the air you just breathe. “Jisung?” You ask, speechless.

“The one and only”, he chuckles seeing your shocked face.

“What happened?” You even struggle to speak.

He's the same, but different? His hair is shorter, fixed in a nice hairstyle and his clothes are fitting him perfectly, like they were custom made.

“Do you not like it?” He asks, worried, hands patting his body trying to understand where it went wrong.

“No, no!” You blurt out, fast. “I like it, you look really good”, you don't actually have words to describe how delicious he looks, he already had you hot and bothered before, what are you going to do now? It's impossible to not want to jump his bones right this instant.

“Then?” He waits for you to continue, taking a step towards you, making you instantly take a step back. You're not sure if you'll be able to hold yourself back if he gets too close and you don't want the first time you fuck to be in the school's locker room.

“Why did you change?” You ask, trying to think more clearly.

“I'm trying to become boyfriend material for you”, he grabs your hand, holding it with his. “I even made social media accounts”, he smiles.

“But you were already perfect”, you whisper it slowly, brows knit together. Did you make him feel like he wasn't?

He sighs.

“I heard what your ex said that day”, he says, biting his bottom lip. “I don't want you going out of your way to shield me from mean comments, I want people to envy you for dating me, the same as there are dozens of guys that hate me because I got you”, he tilts his head, waiting for you to process what he just said.

“As long as you're not uncomfortable”, you say, trying to find any sign of hesitancy on his face.

“Not at all”, he tells you, “Chan and Binnie helped me buy nice clothes that are comfortable. Also, if I become more popular, It'll help 3racha”, he shrugs.

“Okay”, you nod nervously, not really knowing what to do next.

“Are you sure I look good?” He asks, playfully, seeing the way you're avoiding his eyes. Jisung takes a step closer, making you take a step back once more just for you to bump into the closed doors of the gymnasium. “Oh? Why do I get the feeling that you are thinking about running away?”

“Pff, me?” You scoff, “of course not”, you shake your head frantically.

He tsks, reaching for your waist and wrapping his arm around you.

“You know, a strong denial is like an affirmation in some cases.” Jisung says, bending down to your height, brushing his lips on yours but before you can lose yourself on his hold, you lift your hands pressing them against his chest and pushing him away.

“Can- can you not?” You huff, you can't believe you're even stuttering, you almost gave in. Almost.

You ended up giving in and it didn't take him much to convince you. Jisung was driving and you were anxiously waiting to arrive home, a cold shower and maybe a sex toy would do the trick. Everything was alright until he put his hand on your knee, sliding it up and down on your thigh. Did he get a new personality together with the makeover? He knows exactly what he's doing because he has that damn smirk plastered on his lips.

You didn't change from your cheer uniform since you had no energy and just wanted to get home to anxiously wait for Jisung's contact and now you regret it. It feels a thousand times more painful to have his hands touching the bare skin of your thighs. Each time that his hand comes up it gets closer to your core like he's testing the waters to see where you're willing to let him go.

What he still doesn't seem to know is that you're more than willing to let him go all the way and as soon as his hand gets too close to your throbbing core, you hold your breath as if that could do anything to help.

Jisung plays with the hem of your safety shorts without a care in the world, like he doesn't have you all turned on and your panties are not soaked.

“Stop the car”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at you before parking, making you want to rip that shit eating grin off of his face with a punch.

“What's wrong?” He asks cynically, unfastening his seatbelt to turn to you, his hand still caressing your thigh.

“You don't want to go there, Han Jisung”, you tell him, grabbing his arm to try and force his hand to stop touching you.

“Don't I?” He smiles, biting his bottom lip. You look so sexy saying his full name like that and he gets the urge to make you moan it. “I think I do”

“I hate you”, you groan, reaching to grab his collar and pulling him to you, making your mouths crash in a hungry kiss. You missed having him so close to you, his free hand cups your face and Jisung deepens the kiss, feeling your tongue caressing his so eagerly.

His other hand is working its way into your shorts, he's desperate to feel you on his fingers and as soon as he manages to get his hands under your panties, he can already feel your wetness leaking out of your sweet pussy.

“Shit”, he groans, disconnecting his lips from yours. “Are you usually this wet? Or is it just for me?” He asks shamelessly, making your whole face turn red.

You keep silent, trying to breathe normally again. It's embarrassing, how can someone provoke this kind of reaction out of you like this?

He chuckles, a dark deep chuckle while he slides his hand to your head to pull your hair.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, kissing you on the cheek at the same time as he places two fingers inside you, making you whimper. He pouts, tilting his head. “I'm sorry, you are so wet I thought you could handle two”

“Oh”, you feel your breathing out of pace and Jisung starts moving his fingers in and out of you. “J-jisung”, you moan, feeling his thumb circling around your clit. His fingers work fast, in and out of your hole, feeling you clenching around them. You're so tight, he can't wait to feel you around his cock.

His hair is all disheveled, pretty pink lips half open watching you becoming undone right in front of him. You want to stop him, you don't want to give him the satisfaction of ruining you so easily, but he's so handsome, his eyes are looking at you so deeply just waiting for you to come on his fingers.

The moment your whole body trembles, you close your eyes to the pleasure spreading all over you. You glare at him, panting and dizzy, seeing him take his fingers out of you and taking them straight to his mouth, licking them like a starved man.

“You taste as sweet as you look”, he tells you, fastening his seatbelt and starting the car again, driving back to the road like nothing happened.

“What about you?” You ask, seeing his obvious hard on.

“I think we had enough fun for today”, he glances at you, winking. It makes you sink in your seat, feeling your face turning red and the butterflies in your stomach. Jisung hopes you didn't realize that he would cum with a simple touch of yours, if he had your delicate hand around him one more time he wouldn't be able to last long, even less if he could feel your sweet lips on his cock, so he chose to avoid that embarrassment.

You feel excited from the moment you wake up and as a person who doesn't like waking up early that's a very difficult thing to achieve. But when you opened your eyes, groaning and exhausted, you picked up your phone to turn off the alarm just to find a few texts from Jisung saying he would be coming to pick you up.

That definitely left you excited, so you jumped out of the bed, grabbing a towel and running to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After finishing your bath, you get your hair done and choose the cutest clothes you have in your wardrobe.

The moment you go out, you see Jisung waiting for you outside of your house. He's looking good, leaning on his car with his hands in his pockets while he waits for you to walk to him.

“It should be illegal for someone to look this nice at this hour”, you try teasing him, to see if you can make him flustered.

“I was going to say the same”, he answers, checking you out, shamelessly and you are the one with a red face in the end, so you just give him a peck on the lips, trying to hide your embarrassment while getting into the car.

The ride to school is calm, you're nervously anticipating how people are going to act when they see you two, when they see Jisung.

Everyone stops to stare at you, at the same time as you want to hide from the prying eyes, you understand. Honestly, if you saw Han Jisung walking around looking like that you would stop to stare at him too.

He holds your hand, interlacing your fingers and leading you inside, a huge grin on his face, proud that he got the reaction he wanted. This was his plan, he wants you to show him off, he wants you to feel proud to be by his side and more than anything, he wants everyone to know you're his now.

He leaves you in your classroom, giving you a goodbye kiss and promising to find you later so you can have lunch together.

“Who was that?” Mina asks, mouth agape.

“That's Jisung”, you tell her proudly.

“Well, how did you work your magic so fast?” Miyeon asks.

“Will you believe it if I tell you I didn't do a thing?”

“I guess just dating you is enough to change a person”, Mina jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” You ask playfully and she chuckles.

“I guess you'll win the bet more easily than I thought”, she says, sighing, pretending to be disappointed.

“Actually, about that I-”, you fidget with your hands, it's not easy for you to give up and after what you just went through with Seunghoon you surely don't want to admit that what you have with Jisung is more than you could anticipate, it's something special. “I want to call it off, the bet”, you finally say, making your friends exchange glances, confused. “I don't want to play games with him”, you finish, sitting by Miyeon's side.

“Well, I didn't think you would give up so easily”, Mina laughs, “you're such a softie, y/n”

You smile, remembering about Jisung's hands on you earlier this morning, trying not to blush too much.

“I'll win the captain title again fair and square”, you tell Mina, stretching a hand to her so she can shake it. “And about Seunghoon, I don't really care about him anymore”, you shrug.

Mina shakes your hand back proudly, she can see something different in you now and she's happy that maybe you're seeing in yourself all the potential she's been trying to convince you that you have for all these years.

You feel a little bit jealous. Now Jisung can barely walk more than three meters without someone greeting or hitting on him, you're pouting during lunch, playing with your food while he goes on and on about 3racha’s new track.

“Are you listening?” He asks, tilting his head while looking at you.

“I am”, you nod, even though you could barely understand what he was saying.

“You're acting weird again”, he sighs, lifting his hand to your chin and pulling your face so you can look at him. “Talk to me”

“It's nothing”, you are the one sighing now, “I'm just being stupid”

“Tell me then, I'll be the judge of that”, he pushes.

“It's just-” you can't help but sulk while talking, “Those girls were clearly hitting on you earlier and you didn't do anything about it”, you whine, “I'm being stupid because I'm not even sure what I wanted you to do in that situation, even so, I'm still feeling bad and angry”

Jisung can't hold back the big smile that grows on his lips, he leans closer to your face, supporting his elbow on the table.

“Is my baby jealous?”, he asks playfully, with a cute voice, making you pout even harder, crossing your arms.

“Stop that, I'm not”, you say, feeling your cheeks burning because of the pet name.

“If you're not jealous, then can I go and get their numbers?” He tests, making you glare at him. Jisung laughs, embracing you in a hug and kissing the top of your head. “In all seriousness, I didn't even notice they were hitting on me. I was so focused on just answering their questions so I could get the hell out of their sight, I'm sorry I made you feel bad”, he clarifies.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around him and relaxing in his embrace.

“Don't apologize, I was being ridiculous”

Jisung breaths out, pulling away from your embrace and cupping your face with his hands. He stares at you for a few seconds, trying to use the right words to speak to you.

“You should definitely stop invalidating what you feel. What you feel is not ridiculous or stupid”, he gives a peck on your lips, brushing his nose on yours. “You can always tell me about your feelings, I'll always listen to you. So don't say things like that, alright?”

You want to cry, you want to smile, you want to hug him and never let go. So you snuggle in his embrace, nodding and mumbling about how he shouldn't get too close to other girls, making him smile while he kisses the top of your head. What did you do to deserve someone like him?

After finishing your lunch you two get up, carrying your trays back to their place and talking about what ice cream you should buy since you have a free afternoon. However, when you cross the doors to the dining hall, you bump directly into Seunghoon, causing a minute of awkward silence between you three. No apologies, just your ex staring at Jisung like he's trying to win a staring contest or something like that.

“Long time no see, y/n”, Seunghoon smiles to you, as if you didn't basically tell him to fuck off a few weeks ago. “I see you're accompanied, I'm Seunghoon, a friend of y/n”, he stretches his hand to shake Jisung's.

“I know who you are”, Jisung says, shaking the other man's hand. The hostility in the atmosphere is palpable but before you can excuse yourself, Seunghoon's voice is heard once more.

“Y/N promised that she would go on a double date with me and my girlfriend”, he recalls, “now that we are acquainted I feel like we can set a date”, he smiles and if you didn't know him you'd think he's genuinely interested in having a double date with friends.

“Sure, just let me know the day and time and we'll be there”, Jisung answers before you have the chance to deny.

You watch as Seunghoon chuckles, nodding and giving his goodbye. Your stomach sinking in, you have a bad feeling about this.

“What was that about?” You ask Jisung, brows knit together in confusion.

“What was what?”

“Don't play with me, Han Jisung”, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest and he sighs, biting on his bottom lip.

Jisung may or may not have regretted it the moment he accepted without checking with you first, but your ex just makes him so mad. The fact that he's not at least a bit apologetic about what he did to you just doesn't sit right with Jisung, how could he break your heart and nonchalantly show up in front of you asking for a double date with the girl he cheated on you with. Fuck him.

“I'm sorry”, Jisung sighs, sulking. “I should have checked with you but I just felt so angry”

You stare at him for a moment, sighing. That sucks, it seems you can't stay mad at him for too long.

“It's fine, I'm sure he would bother us until we accepted it”, you say, grabbing his arm to force him to carry on your walk. “Shall we go shopping for some couple outfits today?” You smile at him, that's going to be his punishment.

Or at least it should have been, so why does Jisung look so excited with every piece of clothing you try on? He looks very happy to buy things for him but not nearly as much as when he's watching you.

You ended up buying a couple's pajamas and for the date — that Seunghoon didn't lose any time scheduling for Friday — you got a bracelet with a pendant that resembles a ferris wheel, the place you two kissed for the first time.

“Shall we go to the amusement park again?” He asks, raising your hand high enough for him to look at the bracelet.

He sees your eyes shine to that simple mention and he smiles when you nod frantically.

“There were so many rides we didn't get to go because it was too crowded”, you say excitedly, “We have to go on the roller coaster”

“We do?” He chuckles nervously, “that thing is kinda scary”

“Of course we do!” You stop in your tracks, making him look at you. “I'll hold your hand the whole time, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You say, confidently and oddly enough, Jisung feels really reassured with your words.

“Oh, you're my knight in shining armor”, he sighs dramatically. “What would I do without you? Hm?”

He uses the hand he's holding to pull you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing your bodies against each other. Jisung gives you a peck on the lips, smiling when he sees you blushing.

“You better always keep me close to you”, you tell him, avoiding his eyes. “So I can protect you”

“Mmn”, he agrees, snuggling his face in the crock of your neck, “I'll keep you always in arm's length”

The dreadful Friday arrives too fast, when neither you or Jisung wanted it to come. You try not to think too much about the way you're dressed, you don't want your ex to think you dressed up for him. Jisung on the other hand, wants to look his best so Seunghoon can swallow back all the things he said about you, knowing that you did in fact find someone better.

“Ready?” He asks you when you get into the car.

“Can't we just stand them up?” You ask, hopeful, while fastening your seatbelt.

“Let's just stay for thirty minutes, then I can pretend I received a call and we have to go”, he grabs your hand and kisses it, “how does that sound?”

“Sounds good”, you nod, smiling at him. But that damn feeling that something just isn't right keeps bothering you.

Jisung drives slowly, trying to avoid the unavoidable. It should be fine, nothing is gonna go wrong, it's just anxiety trying to make him paranoid.

Seunghoon chose a fancy restaurant, Jisung is only used to going to places like that when he meets someone from the label, together with Chan and Changbin. He doesn't really like fancy places, he wanted to take you there on a date because he thought that was something you would like but in the end you're not into that either.

“I should probably tell you right now that this restaurant is where Seunghoon asked me to be his girlfriend”, you tell Jisung as soon as he parks in front of the place your double date is supposed to happen.

“What?” Jisung asks, confused.

“I didn't want to believe before we actually arrived but I knew I recognized that address when you showed it to me”, you explain. “I think he just wants to brag, he'll try to get under your skin for sure. Maybe he'll try to talk about the time we dated, that would be a dick move since his girlfriend is gonna be there but he is a dick so I don't expect less from him”, you start to ramble nervously.

“It's okay, you're with me now”, he reassures you one more time, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, “we are gonna go there, hear whatever he has to say and in thirty minutes we are out and we can even go to a real date just the two of us”, Jisung tilts his head waiting for your confirmation and you nod, leaning closer and kissing him.

“That sounds great, you are great”, you tell him

Awkward, stifling, suffocating. Those are the words that better describe how the dinner began on that night. Seunghoon was late but his girlfriend was already there so you had to awkwardly sit there with the girl your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. You are a good person and you don't want to cause a scene, especially because you don't really care about your ex anymore so you feel a bit grateful to this girl who took that bomb away from you.

“I liked your stunt on the last game”, she says, sheepishly while picking on her nails.

“Ah, yes. We worked for three months to come up with that one”, you answer, sipping on your cup of water and cursing Seunghoon in your mind. Where the hell is he?

Except that when Seunghoon waltzed inside the restaurant, you knew exactly why he was late. The look of utter disappointment on his face told you everything you needed to know, he wanted you two to fight over him. You wanna laugh. Did he really expect to come in late just to find his ex and current girlfriend grabbing each other by the hair or yelling at each other? What a fucking loser.

He probably didn't expect to see Jisung's arms wrapped around your waist, leaning so close to you or the whispers and giggles that were never common in your relationship with him.

“Where have you been?” His girlfriend asks while he sits down but he doesn't even look at her, eyes fixed on you and Jisung.

“Something happened”, he brushes off, vaguely. “Let's order?”

You and Jisung exchange confused looks, nodding to him.

“Oh, this is the place where we started dating, right?” Seunghoon asks, after the waiter takes your order, pretending like he didn't know about it when he set the date there.

“Yeah”, you sigh, eyeing Jisung, already knowing where your ex was trying to go with that.

“You loved the pasta here, why didn't you order that?” He asks and you glance at his girlfriend who's glaring at him.

“I didn't like the pasta, you did”, you sigh, feeling Jisung's pulling you a little closer to him, making you look at him to see the man smiling at you. You release the air you didn't even notice you were holding and you realize how stiff your whole body is, why does Seunghoon make you so nervous? It didn't feel this way the other day when you met him by yourself. It's just that you have the feeling that he has an ulterior motive to this dinner, other than just bragging about his new relationship.

He looks mad at your answer, even more mad because of how close Jisung is to you. You used to be like that with him, grasping at the slightest bit of affection he would give you. He thought you would come back to him eventually, Seunghoon thought you would forgive him, would depend on him once more so why didn't you? Why don't you need him anymore?

“I heard something funny”, he grabs everyone's attention suddenly. “Heard that you're only dating him because of a bet?” He sneers.

Your heart stops at that moment.

“What?” You ask, immediately turning to Jisung who looks frozen, staring at Seunghoon.

“Yeah, one of my friends heard the funniest conversation in one of his classes”, he laughs, “I’m sure you already know about it, right?” He asks Jisung, raising a brow in amusement.

Jisung starts to shake, he can't look at you, not right now. But he also can't let Seunghoon win, it would be too humiliating for the both of you.

“Yeah, I knew about it”, he lies, feeling the least bit satisfied with the annoyed groan Seunghoon lets out. “I think you should start treating your girl better rather than taking care of y/n’s relationship”, he finishes, standing up. “I lost my appetite, let's go”, Jisung tells you, stretching his hand so you can hold it but his eyes don't look into yours.

Jisung doesn't say a word to you until he parks in front of your house and you were too scared to start the conversation but when he kept quiet even after ten minutes, only staring at the wheel in his hands, you couldn't take it anymore.

“I know I should have told you before, I-”

“So he was telling the truth?” He looks at you for the first time in the last hour and you wish he didn't, the hurt in his eyes makes your chest feel like someone is squeezing your heart. “You are low”, he spits.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes, you know you deserve that but at the same time you could never have imagined him treating you this way.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry”, the tears start running down your face, “it started as a bet but I called it off, I swear” you try grabbing his hand so he can look at you but he snatches himself out of your grasp, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking outside. He's afraid he'll cry if he looks at you, he's scared he'll give in if he so much as glances at you.

“I need to think”, it's the only thing he says.

“Jisung, please, hear me out”, you plead once more but he doesn't look at you.

“I don't want to hear anything right now”, he tells you, stretching his body over yours to open your door, waiting for you to get out.

You step out of the car, glancing at him over and over, expecting him to change his mind but he doesn't and you watch as the car disappears far away on the road.

You only let yourself cry after closing the door to your room, even though there's no one else home, you still feel like you need to lock yourself up so you can feel anything.

You're such an idiot, you should have told him about the bet but it was something so meaningless that it didn't even cross your mind that you should come clean to him, in your head everything that mattered was that you liked him and that you called the bet off but you didn't take into consideration that he would feel hurt about that and that's what hurts the most.

You always talk about how Seunghoon did bad things to you, that he didn't have any regard towards you, but did you have any towards Jisung? You waltzed into his life, put him in the spotlight and made him open himself to you, but you couldn't take the time to think about how hurt he would feel if he found out about the circumstances that made you like him in the first place.

You feel guilty about everything, you wish you could turn back time and change everything but you can't, you can't go back and you can't make it up to him, you have to wait for him to forgive you or in the worst case scenario, for him to dump you and that hurts too much.

Jisung knew someone like you wouldn't like someone like him just because you thought he was cute, he knew that there was something behind your sweet words and harsh moves on him but he chose to ignore every signal, every flag and every warning his mind pointed out because he wanted to believe you. Jisung wanted to let himself like you, he wanted to be the one to protect you, the one whom you would call on every minor inconvenience you run into but in the end, he should have been the one being protected from you.

He can't believe he let himself fall for you, why would you even like him? At least he thought you did, he thought you felt happy when you were with him. Lies, everything was a huge lie and he wants to punch himself for letting you make a fool out of him like that.

A week goes by without news of Jisung, you see him walking through the school's corridors but you're too scared to approach him so you just watch as he keeps his routine everyday, like nothing happened, like you were never in his life.

Mina and Miyeon are making shifts to stay with you, if they don't you won't eat properly and you only sleep when the exhaustion is so much your body can't handle it anymore. You're scared he'll end things, but you're ready to beg if he tries too, you know Jisung is worth begging for.

On one of the rare moments you find yourself alone, you try to stay away from everyone else who are not your close friends. You're hiding in the building where Jisung has his classes, in hopes that you can see at least a glimpse of his face.

“Where have you been?” You hear an annoying voice right behind you, making you sigh while you turn around to see Seunghoon with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You disappeared after our double date, did your new boyfriend really know about your bet?” He chuckles, making you want to punch him in the face. This is all his fault, if he didn't open his filthy mouth to say those things to Jisung you could have come clean to him and maybe this whole incident could have been avoided.

“Fuck you, Seunghoon”, you lose you composure, not really caring about winning this one, you just want to curse at him. “You cheated on me and then you tried to ruin my relationship and for what? Leave me the hell alone”, you spit out, walking past him but before you can go further you feel his grasp on your wrist, forcing you to turn around.

“You used to adore me, y/n, you were supposed to forget about everything and just stay with me so why did you rebel?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, I never ‘adored’ you, I just treated you like a good girlfriend should treat her boyfriend even though you have never done the same to me”, you try shaking your arm away from him but he doesn't let go. “I'm sick and tired of you, let go of me right now”, you pull your arm again with all your strength but he's grabbing you so strongly it's starting to hurt.

“Let's start over, yeah? I'll be good to you this time”, he asks, like he didn't hear anything you said.

“I have someone I really like now, nothing you do is gonna change that’, you groan, feeling your wrist sore. “I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore, just forget about me”

“Why do you always make everything so difficult-”, he tries to drag you away from the prying eyes who are starting to watch the scene unfolding, but you feel hands on your shoulders steadying you in place. Jisung walks in front of you, pushing Seunghoon and forcing him to let go of you.

“This doesn't concern you”, your ex says through gritted teeth.

“If it concerns y/n, it concerns me”, Jisung answers.

“Just because you got a little popular you think you can come up against me?” Seunghoon scoffs, coming closer to Jisung, challenging him.

“You're an idiot if you think you can just grab someone's girlfriend like that and don't get in trouble”, Jisung says, “if you have anything to discuss with her you can talk to me first”

“Don't be ridiculous, we can talk like grown ups. Right, y/n?” Seunghoon tries to come to you, but Jisung grabs him by the collar.

“Don't even fucking try”, Jisung glares at him, “if you get close to her one more time you're not gonna be able to play your next game”, he finishes, letting go of Seunghoon and pushing him away from you.

Seunghoon huffs and puffs but he knows he can't get into trouble if he wants to stay on the football team, so he curses you for the last time before turning around and walking away.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, looking around.

“Yeah, I'm fine”, you say, stepping closer to him but that's when you notice he's not looking at you and he's not even trying to hide that. “Thank you for helping me”, stepping back and stroking your wrist which hurts like hell. You want to cry but it's not from the pain coming from there, it's from the immeasurable ache coming from your chest.

“It's nothing”, he sighs, “try not to stay alone for now, you should stop coming here too”, he says, nodding to you before he's gone, walking away from you. Leaving you there, feeling empty.

“Should I be worried?” Chan asks Changbin, as soon as he sees the number of empty cans thrown in the center table in the living room. Jisung is seated on the floor looking at the TV but clearly not watching, he's just staring at it with an empty gaze.

“He's been like that since yesterday”, Changbin sighs, leaning over the kitchen counter while watching his younger friend open another can of beer. “You would have know if you had come back home”

“So, on the only night I sleep in my girlfriend's house, Han turns into an alcoholic?” Chan asks, ironically.

“He's been weird for a few days, I think he fought with y/n”, Changbin says, “I knew there was something going on.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I tried, but he won't answer my questions or just sighs randomly while I'm talking”

“I'll try talking to him”, Chan says, looking at his friend who just shrugs, going back to wash the dishes.

The older one gets closer slowly, sitting on the couch and looking at Jisung for a moment, trying to see if he'll acknowledge his presence but it doesn't happen, the younger one doesn't even move.

“Hey, are you alright?” Chan asks, but there's no answer to his question. “Look, you know you can talk to us about anything, right?” He tries again, but still receives no answer, so he snatches Jisung's beer out of his hand, receiving a frustrated grunt from his friend.

“Give it back”, Jisung finally lets out.

“Talk to me”, Chan pleads.

“There's nothing to talk about”, Jisung shrugs. He should end things with you, even if it hurts, that's what he should do, right?

“Clearly there's something going on”, Chan says, “I won't leave you alone until you talk and you know I can be really annoying when I want to”

Jisung sighs, he knows that very well.

“She only asked me out because of a bet”, Jisung says, “y/n, I mean”

Chan sucks through his teeth, that's not a nice thing to do. But he can't really judge her when he did something similar when he started seeing his girlfriend, so he'll have to play devil's advocate this time.

“She ended things with you then? Because the bet is over or something like that?” He tries to push to know a bit more.

“No, her ex told me”, Jisung says, continuing when Chan frowns in confusion, “he was trying to get under my skin so we would fight”

“What about y/n?”

“She said she called it off and that she likes me”, he chuckles, “I don't believe her”

“Why not?” Chan asks, still confused. “Look, Han, what she did is shitty, okay? That's not open for discussion, but why are you doubting that she likes you? Shouldn't she use this opportunity to get out of this relationship now that you found out about the bet? Why would she lie about it? It doesn't make sense”, Chan points out.

“Why would someone like her like someone like me? I'm no one”, Jisung cries out, he knows Chan is right but he just can't let himself fall for your trap again, he can't handle it if you break his heart a second time.

“Now you're only letting your self doubt talk, what do you mean you're no one?” Chan sighs, “you're a great friend, you're smart and you're part of 3racha, you're talented as hell, Binnie and I would be nothing without you”, Chan says.

“Yeah, but she's so wonderful”, Jisung sighs, “she's kind and smart, she's funny and cute, she's the prettiest girl I have ever got to know”

“Did she ever tell you that you weren't those things too?”

“No”, the younger one looks at Chan with puppy eyes. “But still, why would she make a bet to date me if I wasn't a loser?”

“You should ask her that yourself”, Chan shrugs. “You know I did some questionable things to date my girl and I'm not proud of that, but I love her with all my heart. In the end, maybe what's important is what's on her heart right now and not when it started”

When you receive Jisung's text telling you he wants to meet up, you feel relieved. He's finally gonna talk to you but at the same time you feel anxious, he's very vague about what you're going to talk about so you can't ignore the possibility of him ending things.

You set the date in your house, you don't want to go to a public place just to end up a crying mess in front of everyone there. So you wait patiently until Jisung arrives, you bite all your nails, clean everything that can be cleaned even though it's already impeccable, you do anything that can ease your anxiety and make you less nervous.

Three knocks on the door make you jump from the couch, running to the entrance and opening the door in a fast swing.

You missed Jisung's face, his round cheeks look smaller than the last time you saw him and the eyebags under his eyes are huge. You are no different from that, you know you lost weight since your cheer uniform is big on you and you're breaking out in pimples because of the stress.

“Hi”, you say, awkwardly, giving space for him to enter.

“Hey”, he answers, waiting for you to guide him to wherever you want to talk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Should you have offered? It's something you always do when you have guests.

“I'm good”, he answers again. “Can we cut to the chase?” He turns to you, arms crossed in front of his chest. That doesn't sound good, he doesn't look like he forgave you.

“Yeah”, you nod, bracing yourself for what's to come.

“Was everything a lie?” Jisung asks, biting his bottom lip. “Was anything you ever said real?”

“Yes it was, almost everything”, you take a step closer to him but he takes a step back, not ready to be so close to you yet. “Everything started as a bet, I wanted to make someone better than Seunghoon so I could make him jealous”, you sigh, feeling like an idiot.

“It was your idea?” He asks, staring at you.

“No, it was not my idea but I accepted it anyway”, you shake your head. “I know it's stupid, I know it is. But I fell in love with you and when I realized I didn't want to hurt you I called the bet off”, you explain.

“And when was that?”

“Three weeks ago”

He sighs, walking around for a minute, trying to think.

“How am I supposed to trust you now?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to rationalize, trying to find an excuse for you, so he can forgive you.

“You are-”, a sob leaves your lips as soon as you start talking, tears running down your cheeks, you didn't even notice you were crying. “You're the first person who ever showed me what love really is”, you try to explain.

“So, do you like me or do you like the way I make you feel?” He whispers, eyes pleading for your answer to not destroy the little bit of hope he still has on you.

“I like y- I love you”, you try holding his hands once more. “I never thought I could love someone the way I love you, Jisung. I love everything about you, I sleep thinking about you and I wake up thinking about you. When I'm eating something nice I always ask myself if you already ate or if you would like what I'm having. When I'm out having fun I always wish you were there with me. Whenever we go to different classes I miss you immediately and I count every second so I can see you again”, you squeeze his hand. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me right now but please don't leave me, please stay with me”, you plead, feeling the tears running down your face.

Jisung's heart breaks from listening to your cries and sobs, he wants to save his pride and leave you for good. But he can't, Jisung is so in love with you right now that even the thought of staying away from you hurts much more than how he hurt because of what you did.

So he kisses you, his hands cup your face as usual, like nothing ever happened, like you never stayed apart. You missed his warmth, his lips, his hands on your body, everything.

“I missed you”, you tell him, wrapping your arms around his waist, ready to never let go again.

“I missed you too”, he sighs, “and I love you too”

“I'm so sorry, I swear I'll never do anything to hurt you ever again”, you grasp his shirt, bringing him even closer to you.

He knows he shouldn't feel reassured by your promise, how could he? But he does, he's just stupid but that's the effect you have on him.

You sit together and you tell him everything. Why you started a bet and why you chose him, when you started to like him and why you didn't tell him about the whole situation before.

You also talk about how terrible it was for the both of you to stay apart for so long, how you were ready to beg him to forgive you and that made him laugh, that's something he could never imagine you doing.

In the end you're both exhausted. Days without sleeping properly finally come back to bite the both of you on the ass so you invite Jisung to stay over, needing to stay close to him more than usual. You two stare at each other for a moment while laying down together, you can't even believe he forgave you and that he's there with you.

Jisung brushes off the strands of hair falling over your eyes, caressing your cheek before leaning closer to kiss you for the last time before the both of you give in to the deep slumber that's waiting.

“I love you”, he whispers when you close your eyes, making you smile like an idiot.

“I love you too”, you say back to him, letting yourself fall into unconsciousness.

When the light coming through the windows hits your eyes, you start waking up, slowly trying to look around just to see a sleepy Jisung with his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He looks pretty even when he's sleeping, pouting a bit while he breathes quietly.

You can't hold yourself, so you lean closer giving a peck on his cheek.

“Hannie, wake up”, you whisper seeing his eyes flutter and his pout grows bigger.

“Just five more minutes”, he asks, pulling you even closer to him.

You sigh, deciding to let him sleep but when you try to get up the hold he has on your waist gets stronger.

“Where are you going?” He asks, opening his eyes.

“I was going to make some breakfast”, you say, watching him shaking his head and snuggling closer to you.

“No, I don't wanna. Stay here with me”, he whines.

“But what are we gonna eat?”

“We can order something”, he kisses your cheek, trailing kisses to your mouth and then to your neck, biting and sucking on the skin making you giggle and squirm in his embrace.

Jisung chuckles, kissing you. It's a slow, familiar kiss, one of his hands cupping your face and the other holds your waist pulling you closer. You put your hand on his hip, trying to find stability because you feel dizzy with his scent and his lips on you.

He parts the kiss so you both can breathe, but he keeps landing pecks on your jaw, neck and collarbone. His hands land on the rem of your shirt, he looks at you waiting for your permission and you nod, watching as he instantly pulls the piece of fabric out of you. Jisung bites his lower lip, staring down at your breasts, you look so beautiful he thinks that maybe he died and went to heaven.

The man leans closer, licking on your hard nipples, making you suck through your teeth, feeling his hot breath hit on your cold skin.

“Fuck”, you mutter when he bites lightly on the spot. Jisung chuckles, feeling your hands grabbing on his arms and your nails gripping on his skin. He keeps going down, leaving warm and wet kisses down your stomach, finding the waistband of your pajama pants and giving a kiss on both the sides of your hips before pulling the piece of clothing down.

He stares at your panties for a moment, it has bees printed on it and that makes him laugh.

“Do you like bees that much?” He asks, pulling the fabric down while he watches you squirm in embarrassment. You didn't think you'd have sex first thing in the morning so you didn't bother changing to something more sexy. You slap the palm of your hands in front of your eyes, covering your face. “You're cute”, he says, pulling your underwear down and kissing your right knee, then the left, “and so pretty.” You take one of your hands out of your eyes just to see Jisung staring right to your core. He's getting comfortable on the bed, positioning your legs over his shoulders while he grabs your hips with his hands to keep you in place.

Jisung doesn't lose time, kissing the inside of your thighs before licking your pussy, a long and wet strand that makes you immediately want to close your legs but his hands won't let you move. He slides one of his hands in between your legs, pressing a digit over your clit and then inserting the same finger inside you. Jisung sucks on your clit, circling the bud with his tongue while you stare at him, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth with so much strength it could draw blood.

“I can't get enough of your taste”, he says, using his free hand to clean around his mouth, licking his fingers soon after. “Can you handle another finger, baby?” He asks, cockily while you throw your head back, nodding frantically.

Jisung inserts a second finger, going back to suck on your sweet pussy, he feels like he could cum just by eating you out. His hip starts moving by itself while he searches for some friction, humping on the bed.

“Sungie”, you let out, hands landing on his head while you pull it closer to your cunt. “I'm close”, you squirm, feeling his tongue working faster and his fingers reaching places you never could. The knot on your stomach keeps growing until you feel like seeing stars, your legs shake uncontrollably and you moan loudly, eyes screwed shut.

Jisung groans, satisfied, it's so good to feel you cumming in his mouth, he could stay between your legs forever.

He trails kisses back to you, kissing your lips with such hunger you're not sure where it's coming from. You can feel your taste in his mouth and that only adds to the arousal you are still feeling even after an orgasm.

You look at his swollen lips and disheveled hair, thinking he's the prettiest man you have ever seen in your entire life. Your hands go to the rem of his shirt and in a swift move, you get it out of him, staring at his upper body like someone starved. You smirk, pushing him down so you can lean over him, doing the same as he did to you and trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, chest and stomach, until you see the path to your happiness. You pull his pants down, underwear going together, his hard cock springs hitting on his stomach, the head leaking with pre-cum, making you lick your lips, salivating just with the thought of all of that in your mouth.

You look at Jisung, he's waiting patiently for you to do something, anything and you like the feeling of having him in that place, wanting to be satisfied by you. You lean over, licking at his shaft from the base to the head before putting everything inside your mouth.

You can't feet all of him, so you grab the base stroking it up and down on the parts your mouth can't reach.

“Oh my god”, you hear his whimper, smiling to yourself because you're the one provoking that reaction out of him. You keep sucking on his cock, looking at him, Jisung has his head thrown back, lips slightly apart but he struggles to keep watching you, the image of you sucking on him is just too much for him, you're just too sexy, he can't handle it.

Jisung can feel his release approaching, he taps on your shoulder trying to catch your attention while you're so concentrated in sucking him off.

“I'm gonna cum”, he manages to let out but rather than stopping, you suck him even harder and stroking his cock with more resolution. In a moment you feel his hot cum spreading all over your mouth, making you smile while you swallow everything, opening your mouth and showing your tongue to him.

You come closer to him, kissing him the same as he did to you and he can feel his taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you're so hot”, he says as soon as he splits the kiss between the two of you.

“It's all for you”, you whisper, leaning close to his ear. Jisung smiles, you're going to make him go insane.

“Do you have any condoms?” He asks, hastily, grabbing you by the hips and making you sit on his lap. You nod, leaning over the nightstand to open the drawer, showing him the package.

“But I'm on birth control”, you tell him, blushing. You never asked to be fucked raw before, you and your ex always used protection even though he protested a lot about it. “I'm clean, I got tested after I found out about the cheating”, you complete. It would be embarrassing if Jisung refused but it doesn't hurt to ask. All you want is to feel his cock inside you.

“A-are you sure?” He asks, correcting himself when you tilt your head in confusion, brows knit together. “I mean, are you sure about not using protection?” He completes and you nod.

“I trust you”, you kiss the tip of his nose, making his heart flutter. Just the thought of fucking you raw managed to make his semi erection turns into a full hard on in a second.

“Okay”, he nods, throwing the package away while he sits down. Jisung gives a few strokes on his cock before you position yourself over him, he puts the tip on your entrance holding his breath as soon as he feels your wet walls around him. “Shit, you're so tight”, his hands land on your hips, helping you go down on his length.

It hurts a little, he's bigger than average so the burning sensation is not surprising to you, even though you were well prepared it still is an intrusion.

“You're the one who's big”, you tell him, biting on his shoulder as soon as you manage to fit all of him inside of you. You stay still for a moment, catching your breath. When your hips start moving it feels so good, it's almost indescribable, the amount of places he can reach is ridiculous, you want to have his cock inside of you all day.

Your pussy is just so good, Jisung can't help gripping your hips more tightly, encouraging you to move faster. He thrusts his hips against you, spitting on his fingers and sliding his hand down to your clit, making circles there while he watches you riding him with your eyes closed shut, feeling your high closer and closer. He's no different, your flattering walls squeezing him are too much for him, he feels like he can cum anytime now.

Jisung kisses you, feeling you moan loudly against his lips, you grip his shoulder burying your nails on his skin and that only makes him crazier. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, going deeper inside of you. You throw your head back, not able to hold in any longer. Your moans are music to Jisung's ears, he's sure he can cum just by hearing you so it's no surprise when he reaches his orgasm, shooting his seed inside you.

“Fuck”, he groans, movements faltering. You watch as he leans on you, head resting on your chest. That's what's necessary for you to cum and you are almost not able to breathe normally after the intensity of that orgasm.

Jisung helps you lie down on the bed, getting comfortable by your side while he snuggles himself close to you.

“I love you”, that's what he says, looking at you with loving eyes and there's nothing more running through his mind other than how much he loves you.

“I love you too”, you giggle happily, giving a peck on his lips. “I'll need a whole day to recover from this, though”, you tease.

“What do you mean? You better be ready for another round”, he answers, smiling and kissing you. You better brace yourself.

[End]

———

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

Taglist: @rockstrhanji @angelsquid @feelikecinderella @realrintaro @bomi-ja @sasiiidumpling @itshannjisung @whyisaah @weareapackofstrays @kkamismom12 @soonie1010 @bberymi @minleemin @ayejaii

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midnightdevotion · 1 year

Text

Hang in There

Request: Hi I saw you opened and requests and I can’t stop thinking about Rooster finding fem reader passed out somewhere after training because she’s pregnant with Hangman’s baby 👀 Maybe she’s been off a while and hangman is still ✈️

a/n: hi guys! it's been forever since i posted something- i will update all my fics soon just needed some inspo from requests to get my mojo back. Thanks for understanding loves.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader(Callsign Daisy)

Life has a way of kicking your ass in unexpected ways. After waking up sick for two weeks in a row you went to the doctors, only to find out you were pregnant. 8 weeks pregnant no less.

Now your approaching 10 weeks and you still don't know how to process that your pregnant, let alone tell your boyfriend. You know you want kids, but this is definitely not how you envisioned it happening.

The fear of telling Jake and losing him for this is something that has you up all night, every night. You can't help but thank you're lucky stars he's been on a mission for the last month because after waking up sick every day and hardly sleeping from the stress of it all, he would've figured you out. He should be getting home later today and you don't know what to do.

Logically, you know that while he plays the part of jackass cocky pilot, he worships you, and he would never be so low to leave you and your baby. His Texas roots would never let him. However, you're pregnant so your hormones don't let you settle the anxiety with logic.

Flinching as a door slams it knocks you out of the anxious spiral that has been your mind for the last few weeks.

"hey daisy you ready to kick some ass today?"

"when am I not" you send what you hope is a convincing smile towards rooster. You move around him grimacing as you walk into the sweltering southern California heat.

___

If there's one thing you can count on, flying is the one thing that gets you out of your head. It takes away all your fear and keeps you exactly in this moment. Nothing outside of being in the pilot seat matters. Not being pregnant, not every stress that comes with it being unplanned, and certainly no anxieties about what comes next.

There's no space for any of that. The second you climb that ladder, your life and everything about it falls away.

Today you are just running team trainings, and they are always your favorite. You have no upcoming mission scheduled so it's just to keep your skills refined and ready for when there is a mission.

"hey daisy, you know it's not fair when they team you up with Rooster, you should just let us win" coyote's voice crackles over the comms.

"Coyote how will you ever get better if I don't humble your ass every time i can?" your sarcastic reply echos back.

"C'mon just once! I've got a date tonight and I want to brag about being the winner"

"Tsk tsk you should know women don't want to hear you brag on the first date coyote. Maybe this is why you never get a second date."

"You can't seriously tell me the girl dating hangman told me not to brag right now."

Laughter crackles through from everyone, and you shake your head. Rooster gives you a signal and you move to his left ready to attack.

If there's one thing the dagger squad knows it's that when you and rooster fly together there is ultimately little to no chance for survival. Nobody expected the duo with callsigns rooster, and daisy to be such a lethal pair but you guys can read each others minds.

This is true on the ground too, which is why you've been avoiding rooster for two weeks. You know he can tell something is up, but if you avoid him, he can't figure out what.

"how quick do you think we can get them out today?" Roosters voice rasps.

"I reckon we will have them grounded in t-5 minutes"

"god not you too with the Texas talk" he groans.

"What you don't think it's charming?" he flips you off and you laugh.

Before you can respond you see coyote and payback flying. Dropping back to cover rooster you grin under the face mask. This is your favorite part of everyday.

Being up in the air with your best friends you feel invincible. Which is ironic considering this is actually a dangerous job.

"rooster, plan c"

"roger that" He goes shooting forward and you fall back. You laugh as you watch them chase rooster, it's symbolic in a way kids chase chickens and then get pecked.

You stay behind them until you move to get a shot. The sweet sound of missile lock rings out and payback drops off. Now that Coyote is onto you, the plan changes, and you become the bait.

You and Rooster know that he wants to air 'kill' you the most, which is why this plan will work. The temptation of you being right there will be too much for him to think about where rooster disappeared too.

So when rooster swoops in and gets the missile lock on coyote, you can't help but laugh. You and rooster devised this plan specifically for Coyote because he always complains when you two are teamed up together. So seeing it come to fruition and even better hearing Coyotes swearing, is the highlight of your day.

Grinning as you climb down from your jet, you search out rooster. You see him hopping onto the tarmac and walking over your way.

"roos we killed that!" you shout out at him. When you feet hit the tarmac, a rush swoops over you. Shaking it off you go to take a step and suddenly the world spins incredibly fast. Yet it feels like everything is going in slow motion, your vision goes spotty and you hear Rooster shout after you. The last thing you register before the world goes black is the sound of boots hitting the ground.

Rooster has never felt more scared to make a phone call in his life. How does he call Hangman and tell him that his girlfriend passed out, and is in the hospital bay when he has no idea why.

It's been four hours already, you haven't woken up and they won't give him any answers. His hair is a mess from stressing about his best friend not being okay while simultaneously worrying about how to tell the guy he knows would move heaven and earth for you.

His leg is bouncing up and down as he stares at the number dialed on his phone screen.

The fact of the matter is Hangman is probably still flying and won't be able to be contacted for a few more hours. The mission was a success, and then it was extended to have them run drills while at sea.

Bradley knows he has to make the call, but he's terrified that once he does it all feels more real. He's terrified to lose his best friend, He's lost enough already.

Sighing he rubs his hands down his face, picks back up his phone and hits the green call button. The ringing feels like the worst anticipation of his life. When it goes to voicemail his hands are shaking, and he doesn't know what to say so he just hangs up.

Next resort is to call the ship. A commander on board will contact hangman and deliver the bad news, and oh how he wanted to avoid it coming from anyone but him.

He feels a hand land on his shoulder, looking up and glancing at Mav he sighs.

"It's going to be okay Bradley"

"How could you possibly know that" Maverick sighs, and sits next to him.

"let me make the call." maverick opens his hand for him to hand him the phone.

"no- no I need to be the one.. just what do I say mav"

"you tell him the truth, you don't know yet what happened, she's stable but the doctors are finding out what happened and he needs to get back as soon as he can"

He swallows and it feels like steal is coating his throat. Nodding as he stands up he paces in front of mav.

"she's gonna be okay, she has to be okay. We take risks every day all day up in those jets, this can't be how she goes mav. She has to be okay."

"and she will be, but take a deep breathe and find yourself because when you get ahold of Seresin he needs you to be his rock, he doesn't need to hear you panic" Rooster sighs because Maverick is right. He grabs his phone and dials the ships emergency contact number.

It takes a few minutes, jumping through hoops, getting in contact with one person to be transferred to another. Rooster curses Jake for being so hard to get ahold of.

"This is warlock"

"Admiral, sir, this is Lieutenant Bradshaw. There's been an accident with Lieutenant y/l/n today and we need to get contact with Lieutenant Seresin."

"Jesus- is everything okay?"

"We're not really sure yet sir but Jake- he needs to know."

"He's in the air at the moment let me see if i can get him back on ship."

"thank you sir"

The minutes feel like hours as rooster is waiting. He hears chatter from his phone and he knows they are trying to get hangman back on the ship and available for the phone call but roosters not sure if he isn't ready to deliver the news or ready to get it over with.

What feels like an eternity later but is actually only twenty minutes he finally hears hangman in the background. He swallows hard.

"Rooster whats going on?" if there's one thing pilots know, they are never called down unless something bad happened.

"Jake. Something happened with daisy... she... she just passed out.."

"in the Air?!! Rooster tell me shes okay!"

"No no! not in the air.. we had just landed and i was walking over to her and she passed out. She's in the med bay now but we haven't heard anything about her condition yet."

"Fuck!..... Fuck!" in the background he hears jake asking how far from land they are. Ultimately needed to be there for you, needing to see you for himself. Bradley hears jake curse when the answer is still 3 hours out.

He hears a slam and then yelling before the line clicks dead. Rooster looks at maverick worried.

"what do you think he's gonna do"

"one way or another? getting a jet and flying here faster." is mavericks reply. Rooster can't help but agree, if he was 150 miles away from land on a boat that moves about 50 mph holding jets that move at 1,000 mph then he knows what option he would choose too.

----

It takes about 30 minutes for hangman to come rushing into the hospital bay.

"How is she, have we heard anything, what happened" He rapid fires off questions.

"the doctor came out and told us she passed out because she's sleep deprived and is showing signs of dehydration and that she hasn't eaten anything today."

"why- why hasn't, she knows she needs to eat- she's so good with drinking water... I don't understand." confusion crosses his fingers because none of that sounds like his girlfriend.

"when can i see her?"

"the doctor is going to come out soon and let us know what room she is in, they had to finish the tests to see if everything is okay."

Hangman nods and paces the floor where rooster paced about calling him. It only takes a couple minutes for a doctor to come out and call your name and everyone shoots up.

"Okay, well, I'm glad she has a support system but only one visitor at a time please, she does still need to rest and recover. She is in room 302"

Hangman takes off in a dead sprint towards the room.

---

Beeping is the next thing your mind registers, and it takes you a minute to open your eyes. Yawning you try to bring your hands up to rub your face but one is being held by something.

Looking over you see Jake studying your left hand.

"you know you scared the shit out of me today"

"Jake I-"

"why weren't you taking care of yourself?" this has you confused and furrowing your brows.

"I have been-"

"You were dehydrated, hadn't eaten and sleep deprived. It's why you passed out!"

"jake you've been gone! You don't know what I've been doing! I did eat breakfast and drink water this morning but I threw it up!"

"god darling daisy if your sick don't come to work!"

"I'm not sick!"

"some would say puking means your sick!"

"not when your pregnant!"

"you- you're pregnant?"

"Yes Jake! I've been throwing up for weeks because of stupid morning sickness and I haven't been sleeping well because oh my god I'm pregnant and that is the scariest thing, and I was worried to talk to you about it but I guess that's out now isn't it." Theres a silence that lingers on after your words, and it feels like ice pumping into your heart the longer it stretches on.

"oh- oh my god" your throat feels thick at his words, he's looking down at your still clasped hands and you watch him to gauge his reaction.

"we're having a baby?" he finally looks up at you and his eyes are welling with tears.

"yes- we're having a-" and your cut off by his lips crashing against yours. His laughter peels out of him as he pulls away.

"were having a baby!"

"wait... you're happy about it?"

"Of course I'm happy about it! You're the love of my life! I want everything with you. The house, the kids the marriage, the dogs the fights, and the stress"

His words make your eyes tear up.

"honey I hate that you were so stressed about telling me you weren't sleeping. I was sitting here, looking at your left hand thinking about how wrong it is that something happened and the doctors didn't immediately call me, that if something were to happen to one of us I never got the chance to put my ring on your finger." His words left you speechless.

"jake... what are you saying"

"I'm saying marry me."

"isn't that supposed to be a question?"

"No. Its a demand, marry me, make me the happiest man, have my babies and marry me and call me out on my shit and shoot me down in the sky I want it all. I know this is so not how i planned to ask you, but please, marry me." You laugh a wet laugh, because this makes sense, you two would get engaged in the weirdest way, and do it all out of order, but you love this man with your whole heart so you embrace the chaos.

"Of course I will marry you" and he kisses you with every emotion he's felt in the last few hours, but you both wouldn't change it. Even if he already has the ring at home in his sock drawer waiting for the perfect moment.

Tag list:

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#jake hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #topgun #top gun

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no-droids · 1 year

Text

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. ��It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

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

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 3 months

Note

Hello can I please request a scenario where the reader messes with the character by saying “I like you too” instead of “I love you too” with Hu Tao, Furina, UMP45, STAR 15 and Makoto from Persona?? Thank you!!

(Genshin Impact/GFL/Persona 5)

Hu Tao, Furina, Shenhe, UMP45, ST AR-15, and Makoto's S/O messing with them

Adding in Shenhe because I felt like writing her! (As per usual)

Hu Tao has to take a second to register what S/O had replied with.

"I like you, too"?

Hu Tao halts before her foot is out the door, turning around with a smirk and eyebrow raised.

(Hu Tao) "Oh? We're being like that today are we?"

(S/O) "Like what?"

Hu Tao taps her finger on their nose as she crosses her arms, smiling.

(Hu Tao) "I'm not leaving until you say it properly!"

(S/O) "Psh, no you won't."

(Hu Tao) "Unlike you, I don't need to be physically present at my job today, so I absolutely can!"

S/O had to relent after that. Because she was right, she would prevent S/O from leaving.

And even if they managed to get away, the prank Hu Tao would play as retaliation would probably not be worth it.

Furina pouts when S/O didn't even say "I love you back". The audacity!

Her hands move to her waist, giving a harsh glare to S/O.

Well, as harsh of a glare as Furina can manage. If anything, it makes her look adorable.

(Furina) "You don't even want to say it back to me, your girlfriend?! Oh, you wound my heart!"

S/O chuckled at her dramatic response.

(S/O) "As if you didn't do this very thing to me last week!"

(Furina) "Hmph! Fine, be that way, for I will not declare my love for you if this is the response I should expect!"

She tilts her head away and begins marching away from the door, still pouting.

It was obvious she wasn't genuinely offended, but two could play at this game!

She could actually keep this bit up for weeks, if prompted.

S/O does not, lest they incur her verbal wrath for the next month or so and demanding a ransom of sweets.

Shenhe stoically turns to S/O, noticing their lips were trying their best not to break into a full smile.

(Shenhe) "...S/O, did I do something wrong?"

They shook their heads and covered their laughter with one hand.

(S/O) "Sorry, I couldn't resist teasing, Shenhe. I just wanted to see your reaction."

Shenhe blinks and tilts her head in confusion.

(Shenhe) "What do you mean? All you said was that you liked me."

(S/O) "Oh, that's what you're referring to. I figured you were going to ask me why I said 'I like you' instead I love you."

(Shenhe) "That goes without saying, does it not? For us, it means the same thing."

S/O chuckled and couldn't disagree with that logic.

(S/O) "Got me there."

Shenhe, for her part, was still very confused.

What was the joke?

45 frowns before she turns back to S/O, adjusting the hair out her face.

(UMP45) "Wow, so that's what I get after opening my heart to you?"

Those words were rarely said by 45, even less so when she was about to depart for an operation.

She looked genuinely hurt, which made S/O rush up to try to ease her anger.

(S/O) "S-Sorry! It was just a joke-"

They were interrupted when 45 broke into a smirk and cut them off with a kiss.

(UMP45) "Mhm, and so was that. Now, say it properly this time, would you?"

Both of them chuckled lightly before S/O gave the correct reply.

(S/O) "I love you, too."

(UMP45) "Not so hard, was it?

STAR pouts when she hears S/O's response, making her face them.

STAR had a hard time saying it without blushing madly, and this time was no exception.

So to get that in response?

(ST AR-15) "Hey, that's not funny!"

S/O barely held back their amusement, making STAR's annoyance grow.

STAR flicks their forehead gently, taking care to not put too much of her T-Doll strength into it.

(ST AR-15) "S-Say it, already!"

With a tight hug around her, S/O gives in, but still laughing.

(S/O) "Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. Love you too, STAR."

(ST AR-15) "Good..."

She squeezes them back before leaving the room.

Makoto hesitates on departing, taking in what S/O had replied with.

(Makoto) "Like me?"

(S/O) "It's what I said!"

Makoto looks a bit disheartened at the response.

(Makoto) "I see..."

Before her mind could wander, it was brought back to S/O when she heard them chuckle.

(S/O) "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad! I just wanted to tease you."

Makoto's blush crept up on her cheeks for a brief moment before she cleared her throat.

(Makoto) "Ah, my apologies. I suppose I'm still getting used to this kind of banter in a relationship-"

S/O cut her off by giving her a kiss on the cheek, making her face burn red for a different reason.

(S/O) "Don't apologize. You're cute when you blush."

Makoto stammers over her words before simply sighing and smiling back.

(Makoto) "I'll just take the compliment...Next time, I should play a joke like that on you."

Which would be easy, if she had a sense of humor.

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

ok i know it's a very specific request but can you PLEASE do a softish joel x reader where they've been partners for a while and they have a lil soft slow dance moment to Fooled Around and Fell In Love and then like.. smut. but like a softish, needy, primal sort of smut iykwim.. i just love soft joel and need more. thank you 🫡

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K], Animal [4K]

Summary: Joel’s birthday is coming up, but it isn’t something to celebrate.

Word Count: 3K.

CW: Sad, made me tear up at some points. Touches on trauma, references to gore and violence. A little artsy again. Joel feels guilty, oral (f receiving).

Tease: “Christ- I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

Brass clatters against the small wooden table beside the front door to your shared apartment, jolting you from your sleep. It's Joel's keys, and he hasn't set them down quietly to not disturb you– instead, choosing to discard them with the toss despite knowing it would make a racket.

Even in your hazy consciousness between the dreamworld and whatever the fuck this was, you had enough of an idea to understand that this was Joel's attempt to ask for help. His lack of improper communication was less about pride than stubbornness, refusing to share his pain, especially after the raging argument that had preceded him leaving the house without you.

“No, you will be staying here this time,” Joel ended his speech, explaining his next smuggling run with an admittance you hadn't heard him utter or even considered that you might hear.

"Wait-your going without me?" You ask with a scoff, expecting Joel to drop the funny joke. He's not laughing.

"I need to do this one alone," Joel insists, his voice forceful as though his decision wasn't up for debate.

You had fought with him quite loudly but not unnecessarily. You presented to him all the logical questions of what if. What if someone attacked him? What if he got hurt in the smuggling tunnels, and a stray quicker had wandered in? What if Robert and his lackeys attempted some payback for the deal that had gone wrong last week?

It had all fallen on deaf ears, Joel shouldering through the door and ignoring your yells of protest.

The shuffling of Joel's leather boots against the kitchen floor is a relief to you, indicating his safety. It also sparks an unpalatable feeling of guilt, one that settles in your stomach and curdles when you consider the reason Joel had been particularly standoffish recently.

While Joel fixes himself a whiskey, you rise from the sofa slowly in an attempt to avoid detection. You sneak a glimpse of him and find him invested in pouring the amber liquid into a chipped crystal glass. Hurrying, you use the moment of distraction to slink into your shared bedroom and make a point to avoid his gaze.

Calendars were a long-forgotten relic of the past in the Apocalypse. Who would waste precious paper that they could use for a map on something to track what day it was? Regardless, without knowing the date or even what month it was, you always know when Joel's birthday is coming up.

The days would get shorter, and the dying light of the sunset painted the clouds orange much earlier in the day. Leaves would begin their metamorphosis and fade from a vibrant evergreen to a muted, pale rust colour. They’d be littered with cracks and holes as if they were the bodies that lay slumped on the streets outside the QZ, chunks of flesh ripped from their muscles by the jaws of the infected. You were sure that the caterpillars that had no doubt left the shark-bite-like indentations in the green membrane were much less brutal.

And then there was Joel, his mood taking a brutal hit as the memories came flooding back of how he spent the final seconds of his twenty-sixth birthday clinging to his limp daughter's body and screaming into the blackness. He'd washed his hands of Sarah's blood almost two decades ago, but when he looked at his palms, they were still stained crimson.

See, Joel’s birthday was marred with death, so much so that it reeked of decay. How could it be a celebration of his life, of surviving another year, when the whole world, including his daughter, was slaughtered in the time it would have taken for the wax candles on his birthday cake to melt—had he remembered to buy it?

Of course, his forgetfulness had saved his life. The cake’s contents would have turned him into one of those things, scratching at the mossy walls of the quarantine zone with their long nails. However, you are confident that the regret of not picking up the cake box after work kept Joel awake at night as summer gave way to autumn, wondering if it would have been so much easier to succumb to the spores.

Sinking to your knees at the foot of the double bed, its threadbare sheets crumpled and pushed to one side, you duck your head beneath the wooden frame to search for an old cardboard box. So worn now, the seams were practically disintegrating. You take care as you pull it across the floorboards and dig around inside for something in particular.

It's a box of mementoes shared by you and Joel to protect the items that matter most to you. There were little pictures in frames of loved ones, items of great significance. If Joel worried he might lose his precious watch on a mission, he would often leave it here.

Gently fishing around, you finally find what you're looking for. With a delicate touch, you pull out a black cassette tape. It's dusty and unplayed for years. Across its surface lay small, holographic stickers that glint rainbow under the warm light of the bedroom. Their shapes consist of unicorns, clouds and tiny hearts, all strewn haphazardly across the black plastic surface.

The ink on the centre label is written in scratchy child's writing, the lettering large and bold until the opposite end, the letters trailing and squished to fit: To Daddy. Lots of love, Sarah and uncle Tommy xoxoxox.

Rising to your feet, you make your way into the living room. Joel has settled into the couch; his skull set back against the headrest with his whiskey resting in his lap. He opens one squinty eye when he hears your footfalls, watching you cross the living room floor to the window.

“What’re you doin’?” He mumbles, voice gruff and hoarse.

“It’s too quiet in here,” you admit, avoiding his question as you open the cassette player that lay beside the radio that Joel spent all day listening out for. You’d found the little player on a smuggling run in the city and had nearly been chomped on the arm by a runner for it. You were gonna damn well use it!

Joel's eyes burn into your shoulder blades as you swap the cassette tape inside the machine. You can hear whispers of his thoughts in the stagnant air. What is she doing? Why can't she leave me alone? Do I want her to leave me alone?

The tape feeds into the player and settles into its lot with a click. It rings out in the silent room, and it sounds like the safety catch of a gun switching off. You can almost feel how Joel tenses, his muscles primed for war.

Instead of a bullet ripping through the air, a light drumbeat trickles from the player's speakers. You carefully twist the sound dial, raising the volume so Joel can hear the percussion bleed into the guitar.

When you turn to face him, there’s this crack in the carefully cultivated mask your partner wears. A devastating pain flashes across Joel’s features and almost has you backpedalling, reaching across to the button that would cease the agonising sound of his past.

“No-“ Joel speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically emotional. You swear you hear a tremor in it, freezing your body in place when he clears his throat awkwardly as if to hide the ruin that the earthquake of emotions had surfaced. “No… I wanna hear it.”

You swallow thickly, making your way over to the slumped body of your partner as the honey-sweet voice of Elvin Bishop floats across the room. Joel’s emotions had rid him of what little energy he had left, his muscles slumped and body almost curling inwards to suppress whatever reaction threatened to spill out of him.

Taking a leap, a terrifying guess, you slowly pry the whiskey tumbler from his hand, the bronze-syrup liquid appearing as a thin film of gold in the bottom of the crystal glass. Gently, you set it aside, the quiet ‘tnk’ of the cup causing Joel’s body to jolt slightly. Always on red alert, even amid grief.

Your fingertips press into his pulse as your hands wrap around Joel’s sinewy wrists. He’s ageing, his hair greying and the skin above his veins lightly leathery to the touch, but his heartbeat is strong. It pulses heavily against your prints, screaming out just how alive he is when you drag him off the sofa.

Joel defies expectations. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even groan in protest at the ache in his bones at having to stand again. Instead, he settles his head against your shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around you. He holds you so tight that your lungs wheeze in objection- but you don’t have it in you to complain because Joel sighs against your jugular, and it’s like the relief unwinds every rigid muscle in his body.

It can hardly be called dancing, but your body sways to the beat of the music like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. Joel seems to lose himself in the hypnotic oscillation, pressing delicate kisses across the skin of your throat and inhaling the gritty cologne of apocalyptic life that you wear. You can almost hear the infomercial; “Top notes of sweat-musk and smoke from burnt corpses, base notes containing earthy soil and the metallic tang of blood. Heart notes contain devastating grief and an underlying desire to curl in a ball and die to escape this hellscape.”

Slowly, you slide your fingers into the roots of Joel’s silvering hair. He leans into your touch, groaning softly at the comfort he finds in the swirl of your fingerprints, massaging his scalp. He’s so at peace that you barely even notice him whisper the lyrics into your skin, enchanting it with the baritone of his husky voice.

“Free on my own; that's the way I used to be. But since I met you, baby, love's got a hold on me,” he murmurs, barely following the tune with how quietly he hums each syllable. You cling to him, casting your eyes to the mossy ceiling and revelling in a moment of vulnerability that Joel hadn’t afforded you in months.

“That how it happened?” You ask him with a slight teasing lilt to your voice. You may imagine the feeling of a smile against your throat, the smooth enamel of his teeth brushing the thin flesh.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your pulse point. You’re sure he feels it flutter. Joel was never a man of many words, and knowing him as long as you have, you could be certain he would rather blow his own brains out than admit to a fairytale ‘love at first sight’ moment. His answer was the closest thing you would get to a confirmation of guilt.

You can’t help but giggle at his refusal to expose the inside of his heart to you, yet simultaneously unable to conceal his obvious adoration. His breath tickles your cheek as he exhales the carbon dioxide from his lungs. You’d breathe it in, if you could, even if you suffocated on it. A piece of you wanted every part of Joel in a desperate attempt to fill the hole in your heart left behind by your losses. By your Sarah.

Perhaps he could feel that in you because Joel pulled away from your neck for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours in the closest thing to ‘affection’ that the brutal smuggler could muster. The tip of his aquiline nose brushes up the sloping bridge of your own before pressing a kiss to your lips. Tender at first, an inevitable hunger quickly surpasses Joel’s desire to ease you with delicate kisses and sweet nothings as Elvin Bishop croons the confession that you cannot pry from your partner.

“I fooled around and fell in love….”

-✩-

It’s miserable at first. Joel’s kissing you like he needs to swallow you down to numb the pain, like those little white pills he knocks back with a shot of whiskey when he thinks you’re not looking. You find him sprawled on the sofa some days, mumbling Sarah’s name in his sleep as tears stream down his cheekbones and into the sparse hair of his beard.

It takes you both a moment, but when your back hits the mattress, something sparks up inside Joel. He abandons his distress in the bedroom doorway, planting kisses up the length of your stomach and sternum as he slots his hips between your thighs.

“Fuck, Joel-!”

“I know,” he mumbles, licking a stripe across your bare chest and swirling the tip of his tongue around your hardening nipple. “I ain’t been as attentive to my Darlin as I shoulda been.”

You attempt to ease him down from his deprecation, to remind him he’s been suffering, but he grinds the length of his clothed cock against your weeping cunt, and it’s as though your mind stalls, your protests overridden by a sigh of relief.

“Mhmm, that’s it,” he whispers, feverish with a kind of emotional need that you rarely see in your usually animalistic sexual encounters. “That’s it.”

Joel yanks your cargo pants off your hips, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of the dirtied beige material to slip down your underwear too. He groans at the sight of your glistening pussy in the candlelight, sweeping his thumb through the slick mess between your folds and listening to the wet noise you make for him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit and listening to you meek, watching your toes curl, “Christ, I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

“Joel, you’re hurti- Aghh-!”

You let out a strangled moan because Joel dips his face down and licks a hot stripe across the length of your cunt. It’s sloppy and desperate, and you feel the warmth of his exhale waft across your clit and spark hot embers deep in your abdomen.

Locks of Joel’s hair are wrapped tight around your trembling fingers, but Joel doesn’t relent. He drags his tongue against your throbbing clit, relishing how you taste and enjoying how the meat of your thighs muffle the music when they squeeze against his ears.

“Joel,” you beg him, voice needy and back arching against his ministrations. You want to touch him too, want to ease his own frustrations, but Joel approaches this like a punishment. He is serving time for abusing you like this, leaving you wanting beside him in bed due to what he believes is his own selfish actions in wallowing in his grief.

He lazily sinks his tongue into your entrance for a moment, lapping up more of the mess you leak across his face and groaning in delight at how your taste smothers him. He’d drown in it if you’d let him.

It takes you a moment, given he’s working you up into a frenzy, to note that Joel’s rutting his hips into the mattress in a feeble attempt to pleasure himself. He groans softly against your cunt, the vibrations stimulating you and tightening the coil settled deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Fu-uuuck, Joel-!” You keen his name, thighs thrown over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue dances slowly around the circumference of your clit once, twice, three times before swiping back and forth over it. Tears well in your eyes as he repeats the process, and you watch as the wetness on your lashes causes the image of his head between your thighs to reflect back at you like a kaleidoscope, fractured and duplicated and oh-so-beautiful.

“Mhmm,” Joel hums, his hands sliding up your ribs and squeezing at your breasts with his paws. His thumbs trace your nipples, and again your back is arching, your hips rutting against his chin and pushing your abused clit against his nose.

“Oh God, Oh God, that’s it-“ you’re telling him it feels good, but it sounds like you’re begging him to keep going, heels pushing into his back and dragging him impossibly closer to you. The aged, rotten, wooden frame of the bed creaks at your sloppy attempts to thrust against his mouth. You’re so tight, all wound up with the threat of an orgasm, and Joel is whispering against your cunt.

“Baby, come on,” he murmurs, using his thumb to swipe back and forth a little more rapidly against your clit as he eats you out, smearing your wetness over his lips and beard, “That’s it, Darlin’, that’s it.”

You wheeze out a version of his name that sounds foreign to your ears, slurring the single syllable as your orgasm blooms through you. It’s slow at first, creeping, but then it burns through you. It detonates like the bombs they dropped on Outbreak Day, devastating your nerve endings and crushing your body inwards. Joel continues to coax you through it with his tongue, and you’re feebly pushing his head away as it grows and grows, the peak seemingly nowhere in sight.

Finally, it subsides, Joel groaning loudly as he settles his head on your lower abdomen, still grinding his hips into the mattress like a schoolboy. You’re giggling through your heaving breaths, delirious thanks to the liquid warmth that settles in your bones.

“Oh fuck-“ you whisper, voice hoarse and broken from yelling out Joel’s name. He offers no vocal response, instead kissing at the junction where your thighs meet your pelvis.

The action means just as much as those three unspoken words.

END

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offictionandfandoms · 2 years

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Hii, can I request an angsty fic with Eddie Munson, where he overhears Jason saying the reader (Eddie's secret gf) and him kissed and he believes it. So he ignores the reader and is a bit mean and the reader is sad and hurt when she finds out the reason. I'm not sure if I want it to end in fluff or not, so I will leave that to you.

✎﹏﹏ Rumors pt. 1

✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader

✑ Word Count: 4152

✑ Warnings: I don’t think there is any. Just angst and silent treatment. But let me know if I missed any!

✑ Authors Note: I’m sorry it took me a while to write this! I hope you like it, though, and it lives up to your expectations. Thank you for requesting it!! ♡

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

If someone were to watch the two for long enough and with a close eye, they would have noticed the sneaking glances Y/N Y/L/N and Eddie Munson shared as they passed each other in the hallways, or in the lunchroom, or even in class. They were always finding some way to look at each other, a silent acknowledgment of their presence— and their love— no matter where they were. No one noticed, anyway, so it didn’t matter and the couple persisted with the limited amount of public recognition and displays of affection. It wasn’t Y/N’s idea for them to be secretive about their relationship, but she also didn’t push Eddie on the matter; she understood where he was coming from.

As a school tutor, the one that most people, popular group included, sought out and paid for, Y/N had her own little business to protect. One that Eddie insisted would take a hit if they were to become public; “Since when were you such a businessman?” She had asked when he had first brought it up and he just shot her a charming smile and a “since your business was at stake.” She didn’t question anything after that, how could she? He was far too cute and she had to admit, his logic was sound. The moment word got out about them seeing each other, she knew a lot of people would suddenly find another tutor— or offer her less money. She wasn’t happy about it, no, but it did enable her to save up some money, especially so that she and Eddie could take a small vacation this summer, something that he was saving up for, too. Then after they went on their trip, they could be as public as they wanted.

It had been a good couple months since they started this secret relationship, making sure not to tell anyone and sneaking into each other’s houses late at night, giggling at almost being caught quite a few times. It had been hilarious watching Eddie try to scale her two story house to get into her window. All in all, it was going as amazing as could be expected when you weren’t allowed to run up to your partner in public and give them a kiss in front of everyone— but they were happy and that was what mattered the most.

Or Y/N thought, at least.

It was nearing lunchtime, the closest one could get to peace within a school day, when Y/N first noticed something going on. She noticed his mop of hair first thing as she entered the cafeteria, her heart skipping a beat and her trying to hide a grin that threatened to take over her face. It was nearly impossible to do, though. It always was. Eddie had been in front of her in the lunch line and, unlike usual, he didn’t do his casual lunchroom sweep to see where she was. He seemed intently focused on something and within a few moments, Y/N had located what, or better yet, who. Jason Carver stood a few people in front of Eddie, surrounded by his usual group of jocks, all of which was laughing unnecessarily loud, slapping Jason on the shoulder, and then glancing back to Y/N. She was still wearing the same smile that had formed from seeing Eddie, one that Jason returned rather quickly. Though she was confused on why their attention was directed to her and even more so when they delivered another round of slaps to Jason’s shoulders. Though nothing made her as confused as when Eddie looked back at her smiling face, his own morphing from disbelief to anger, and then storming away. The door would’ve slammed behind him had someone else not walked in, grabbing it right before it hit the frame, throwing looks back at Eddie, undoubtedly whispering some harsh words.

The call of her name was enough to bring her back into the present moment, worry gnawing at her heart and indecision at her brain: she couldn’t run after him without exposing everything, but her business was less important than his feelings. She didn’t get much time to think about it anymore before a hand was wrapped around her wrist and her body was being hauled forward. Jason was still grinning down at her as he settled her in line with him, ignoring the complaints of the hungry students behind them she had skipped.

“I did it.” He said with no further explanation. Y/N was a smart girl, whatever he was talking about should have clicked rather quickly, but she felt her mind blank of everything except Eddie. Her dumbstruck expression was enough for Jason to continue, “Well. Thanks to your help,” at this, his boys howled with laughter and passed each other knowing looks that once again sailed over her head, “I passed Mr. Hindleston’s exam.” At this, Y/N remembered exactly what he was talking about. He had been seeing her for a few days now to study for the test, seeming real worried that if he failed, his basketball career was in jeopardy. She thought that was an exaggeration, there was no way the coach would bench him, but she still felt pity— and maybe some excitement at the money he was offering— so she had cancelled on some dates with Eddie last week to really focus on this. She had told Eddie this, though, he knew who she was tutoring and he hadn’t been the slightest bit upset over it.

“Oh! That’s amazing, Jason! I knew you could do it, I’m so proud of you.” And she was, genuinely. He, despite acting like an ass most of the time in school, especially towards her boyfriend, had really been trying the few sessions they had together. And she knew firsthand how difficult Mr. Hindleston’s exams could be.

She hadn’t realized her eyes had wandered over the occupants of the cafeteria again until Jason slung an arm around her shoulder, jarring her back to him, “I could’ve never done it without you, N/N. How about you sit with us today? A little repayment for all you’ve done.” His friends behind him were leaning forward, all with expectant expressions and goofy grins.

They lost it in another round of laughs and high-fives when she responded with: “You’ve already paid me plenty.” He had paid her a bit extra money for all her time and cancelled plans, but that didn’t explain why his friends were acting like it was the greatest thing they’ve ever heard. Or why he was turning back to them with a mocking “Sh”, but it meant he had released her from his grip so she didn’t complain much.

“Oh, c’mon, I insist. Just for today?” He asked as he turned back to her, adding the charm on thick. She had started to shake her head, lips parting in a rejection. But before she could, he was shoving an empty lunch tray into her hands, “I’ll save you a seat.” The rest of the boys brushed past her, quickly making work of what they wanted on their trays while she just stood there, entirely lost. She was still concerned about Eddie, who still hadn’t made an appearance, and now she had to worry about Jason acting odd, his friends even odder.

“Hey, hurry up!” Someone behind her complained, slightly sticking the edge of their tray into her back so she moved forward. She was half aware of what she got from the food options, knowing she probably wouldn’t eat any of it.

She was right: she barely touched her food. Between Jason’s friends’ boisterous laughter, Jason himself trying to whisper things in her ear (which she soon picked up was more for the benefit of his friend’s humor than it was to talk to her) and her constantly searching for Eddie amongst the crowded room (which she had to lie about when Jason asked who she was looking for, saying just another student she tutors), she wasn’t in the mood to eat. She couldn’t run fast enough out of the cafeteria when the bell rang, signaling another class.

Despite being really good at the class, she hated it, the only good part about it was that she had it with Eddie. Who, for some reason, didn’t show up for that class, or their final one together, nor was Y/N able to find him in the halls in between. It was like he had entirely vanished. There was only one place Y/N hadn’t looked for him and she had to wait around in the library after the final class ended as students funneled out of the school and then she was able to slip inside the drama room, where Hellfire Club took place.

Right where she thought he’d be was Eddie, bent over a folder and furiously scribbling in it with a pencil. He didn’t even look up when she entered, but she knew he knew that she was there. No one could miss the heavy door swinging shut. The brief relief she felt when finding him was soon washed away.

“Eddie?” She addressed him just as she would anyone, not wanting her voice to carry out into the hallway if she called him something more personal. Though, when he still didn’t acknowledge her presence, she inched forward, eyebrows furrowing, “Babe?”

“I’m working.”

Now, Y/N was used to Eddie getting lost in planning campaigns and not paying attention to her or anyone— she knew it wasn’t personal. He simply got too caught up sometimes. But this was different. His voice held a hint of anger, like he was going to snap at any moment. Much like the pencil he held tightly in his hand, not moving an inch on the paper anymore, but still caught in the pressure of his grip.

She didn’t know what to do. He was obviously angry and had been since lunch, but she didn’t know what had set him off. She didn’t know how to handle his anger when it was directed at her— it had never been before. “What are you working on? Can I see?” She had thought that distracting him from the issue for a moment would help him take a breath, but instead, he closed the folder with a snap before she could peek over his shoulder, throwing the pencil haphazardly on the table, where it bounced and rolled off. She jumped back at the sudden movement of him standing up, shoving his seat back away from him.

He didn’t even look her way as he left the room. He didn’t offer her a small glance, or a smile, or even a whispered explanation. He just left and she stood there, watching as she felt her throat burning with the need to cry. Instead of allowing herself to break down over something she wasn’t certain of, she went to grab the pencil off the floor so no student would trip over it.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Over the next few days, holding back the tears was growing progressively harder. Silent treatment was an excruciating thing to experience when you desperately wanted to talk to someone, and Y/N’s mind was a never ending series of ‘what if’s’, none of them ending on a positive note.

The day after the lunchroom incident, she had tried to talk to him once again after giving him the entire night and day to cool off. But as she walked into the room of Hellfire Club, he had simply told her that it was club night and she needed to leave.

“What? Hellfire doesn’t start for another hour.” Silence was her answer, him suddenly acting very interested in setting up the game pieces and his folder, “Eddie, what’s going on? Talk to me, please. I can’t fix things if you won’t tell me what needs fixing.”

“The only thing that you need to fix is yourself. You are not in Hellfire, you don’t belong in this room. Go before someone shows up.” That was the first crack in the dam that held back her tears, though he didn’t look her way to notice how her eyes suddenly glistened.

“I’ve been in here plenty of times. You love showing me the set up. You love filling me in on the game.” If the crack in her voice wasn’t a give away to the fact she was about to cry, the fact that she was only seeing blurs was. Her throat was burning once more, her heart clawing at the inside of her chest as it raced against her brain, which was scrambling for an explanation to all of this. Last week he had been holding her in his arms beneath a starry sky, hidden in some abandoned parking lot so no one would spot them. Now he couldn’t even look at her.

She could barely make out the way Eddie tensed his shoulders, like he was preparing for an epic blow in the final campaign of the game. Like everything was about to be made or broken and he had to steel himself for whatever came next. “Things change, Y/N.”

The second crack ran deep, a single tear slipping from her eye before she could stop it. She wiped it away just as quickly. The silence hung between them for a few moments as she managed to take a few deep shuddering breaths to regain her composure, though when she did speak, her voice still cracked as it snuck past the painful lump lodged in her throat. “This isn’t funny, Eds. Come on. Tell me who this is, or this? What’s that mean?” She started firing off questions at him, grabbing random figurines and pointing to words in the folder that she definitely knew but was hoping for him to explain anyway. She had always loved listening to him talk, and he had always loved explaining DND to her.

“Leave, Y/N.” He didn’t wait for her to start objecting again before he was gently pushing at her shoulder, leading her back towards the door. He didn’t meet her eyes the entire time, keeping them directly ahead towards the wall. She heard the door opening behind her but didn’t realize that he had literally pushed her into the hallway until she saw the door start to close back.

She jumped forward, grabbing at the last straw that she could, one that would be cut in half if the door clicked back into place. “Wait! Am I, like, banished now or something?” She attempted the joke, twirling the invisible string around her finger, hoping to pull a smile from Eddie, anything to let her know it was all okay. She hoped he would open up the door, laugh and hold his arms out for her to run into like he did every time he successfully climbed through her bedroom window.

But the thing with hope is that failure always hits a lot harder afterward. The string of hope she had desperately clung to crumbled from her hand, falling to the floor beneath her as he finally met her gaze, saying a simple, “yes,” and then shut the door. She stared at it for a few moments, waiting for it to open back up for her. It never did. It wasn’t until she heard chatter coming down the hall did she finally turn and leave, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes never leaving her shoes. The last thing she wanted was to be stopped for a chat or a tutoring question. She had questions of her own that were waiting for answers.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Over the weekend, she had attempted to call him numerous times, losing count after she crossed over into the twenties. She knew it was annoying, but she had to talk to him. She needed to know what had happened between them, what had made him push her away.

He never answered.

The one time his uncle had answered, she could barely make out a muffled “tell her I’m not here” coming from Eddie. She had hung up before his uncle could deliver the lie.

She had even drove over to his place but to no avail. Either he truly wasn’t home this time or he wasn’t answering the door. But as she turned her car back onto the main road, she thought she saw a light flick on in his windows.

Despite her heart hanging heavy within her chest, she still carried on with tutoring, though her usual excitement and encouragement had taken a hit. It was worse when she’d stuff the money into her piggy bank, seeing what she had saved for a trip she felt now wouldn’t happen. She almost wished he would break up with her already so she at least had some form of an answer to her endless plague of questions. But he wouldn’t even talk to her long enough to say those simple words and save her the self-inflicted heartbreak she’s been egging on since this fight first started.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

On Tuesday, after being ignored for all of Monday and until the end of classes this day, she decided she wasn’t going to take it anymore. To hell with her tutoring, she thought as she marched right up to Eddie in the hall, halting his conversation with his favorite prodigy, Dustin. He seemed shocked as he looked at her but he quickly hide that expression behind indifference, raising an eyebrow at her as he waited for her to speak. This was the furthest she’s gotten with him in days so she took it in stride.

“I don’t know what’s happening, what I’ve done, but-“ Just as quick as she had his attention, she lost it. He looked past her for a brief moment, his jaw ticking in anger, but then slowly he met her stare once more. But she had saw it. She saw the jaw tick. She saw how his fingers curled into little fists at his side. She saw how the indifference wavered and let anger shine through. And when she turned to see what had caused it, she spotted Jason, leaning against her locker with his little friends in tow. They were all watching her with interest, Jason looking like he was about to head over and see what was happening.

“What-“ She started again as she turned back to Eddie, but her brain was suddenly grabbing at strings to tie together, fitting pieces of a puzzle into place. “Oh my god. You think I slept with Jason.” She couldn’t help but to laugh at first— it was preposterous. Her and Jason? Never. Not in a million years. Eddie jealous? As if anyone could ever catch her attention after him.

But her laughter cut off as she noticed Eddie not laughing, but instead watching her with the same blank stare he had been giving her for days. “Oh my god. You think I slept with Jason.” She repeated, the statement now holding a more hurtful meaning behind it. He wasn’t jealous. He fully believed she had slept with him. All those times she had told him she was tutoring Jason so they’d have to postpone their dates, he thought she was cheating. That hurt worse than the fight itself. Because the resounding meaning behind all of it was that he didn’t trust her. And he didn’t care enough to try to talk it out. He was okay with not speaking to her and keeping this image of her inside his mind, despite the months of her worshiping him and telling him how she loved him. He didn’t care to try to fix it. He didn’t know her enough to know she would never cheat, especially not with Jason.

She backed up a bit then, the realization hitting her like a blow. All those months of her trusting him with every secret, every thought, every feeling, was entirely one sided. Because she would never have accused him of something so ridiculous, not without listening to his side. Yet he had wasted no time in latching onto a rumor that painted her as some heinous whore. That was the third crack.

But the fourth was the final hit: “I don’t need your tutoring services anymore, Y/N. You’re free for other clients now.” It was the one that had her taking another step back, accidentally colliding with a random body. The hand on her waist didn’t register until Eddie scoffed, shooting her a look as if to say ‘was I wrong?’

It suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe, like everyone was staring at her. She wasn’t crying, and she couldn’t understand why. She felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet, she was free falling through the air and no one was catching her. No one was even trying except for herself, who was trying to cling to any semblance of normalcy and stability. But it was a fruitless fight. Jason was spreading a rumor that she had slept with him, apparently. Which made his behavior in the lunchroom make more sense. But it had gotten back to Eddie.

Eddie, her sweet Eddie. The boy who swung her over a puddle of water so she wouldn’t get her shoes wet, the Eddie who snuck into her bedroom with an expired can of soup when she felt sick, and then apologized for the next hour after she told him it was expired. The boy who didn’t care enough to figure out the truth behind the situation, who ignored her for days and then broke up with her in such a way that no one else could understand except her. But she did understand. That was the breakup she had been waiting for, yet she didn’t shed a tear. Her skin held goosebumps all over and she felt like she was two seconds away from losing the ability to hold herself up.

She barely processed it as she pushed away from Jason, who was trying to talk to her while throwing insults towards Eddie, and headed to the girls bathroom, or when her back hit the door, preventing anyone from following in after her. She didn’t process the fact that she still wasn’t alone, either, and that a redhead was squatting down in front of her, asking if she was okay. She felt her head shake, she knew she wasn’t okay, but when her mouth opened to say that, she just started laughing like she had been in the hallway. Her brain was disconnected from her body at the moment, maybe a coping mechanism to keep her from panicking in a school bathroom. But the slight logical side of her that was staying intact knew it was too late for that.

“Y/N, right? I’m Max. Are you okay? Do I need to get someone?”

And for a slight second, she thought of him. She thought of asking this girl to go fetch Eddie, her boyfriend, the one who could calm her down. But then his angry face filled her mind, his coded breakup, and the laughter stopped. And she cried.

She cried for her reputation being tainted by Jason.

She cried for all the money she had saved for a trip that she was now 100% positive wouldn’t happen.

She cried for the fact that she only got to learn a few chords on Eddie’s guitar and would learn no more.

She cried for the months of her legs being scratched up by her crawling through his bedroom window. And for the shirt she ruined in the same activity.

She cried for the man who didn’t trust her.

She even cried for the feeling of anger she now felt towards him.

But she cried more for the anger she felt towards herself, for crying in the first place.

Max sat with her the entire time, not saying anything more, which Y/N was thankful for. It took her a few minutes to stop crying, even more so to catch a normal breath without her chest shuttering, and yet Max stayed sitting right beside her— maybe because she couldn’t get out of the door, but Y/N hoped it was because she was genuinely concerned and cared. She even helped her stand up on legs that had fallen asleep, laughing as Y/N shook them awake, and then helped her walk out into the hallway, heading straight to the front doors. She couldn’t bring herself to look around at all the faces lingering in the hallway, or the not-so sneaky glances being thrown her way by Eddie Munson.

She turned her attention to Max, who’s hair seemed brighter in the sunlight than it had in the harsh fluorescent bathroom lighting. “Hey, do you want ice cream? I just so happen to have quite a savings and could really go for some right now.”

Pt 2 here

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fics #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #stranger things imagines

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cursedonyx · 3 months

Text

The Bars Between Us

Sebastian Sallow x MC

Oneshot AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and MC (named Dracaena in this fic because it’s my current favourite name) trying to keep his secrets. Ominis and Dracaena spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeed. Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, but a little TLC from the woman he has always loved sets him back on track.

Word Count – 8.6k

Warnings – Angst, traumatised Sebastian, aftermath of Azkaban, engaged Ominis/MC, Ominis approves MC sleeping with Seb, seriously Seb’s been through the wringer, Azkaban is horrible, nursing Seb back to health, smut (MDNI), handjob M!receiving, oral M!receiving, sub!Sebastian, MC feels a bit guilty bc her boy is a wreck

Six years.

It had been six years since the terrible events of fifth year, and six years since Sebastian had stood trial for the murder of Solomon Sallow. Six years since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Six years since Dracaena and Ominis had scrambled to find out who had condemned him, and vowed to make it right.

No sooner had they left Hogwarts, not able to fully appreciate the finality of riding the little boats across the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade station, leaving behind the place in which they had matured into adults, leaving behind the wonders and horrors in equal parts, that they both signed up for jobs at the Ministry for Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement, searching for some kind of loophole, some kind of law, some kind of anything that would get their best friend released from hell.

After four agonising years, they managed it. Together, pouring over paperwork by candlelight until the small hours for months, they built a solid defence, their unwavering logic and staunch reasoning standing up to the needlepoint scrutiny of the powers that be. Of course, they knew it was a long shot all the same. The Ministry simply didn’t care about extenuating circumstances, considering those incarcerated to be less than human, doomed to serve their time no matter what new evidence came to light.

Ominis had to throw his weight around a bit. Subtle, hissed threats, muttered warnings and an overuse of his famous glare and family name eventually frightened enough people to get those with the ability to make changes to listen. And then Dracaena came in, her fame and her charm the honey to Ominis’ salt, making promises she never intended to keep, assuring those too nervous to make the jump to support them, doing favours that left an unsavoury taste in the back of her throat.

All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.

“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”

“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”

She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”

“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”

“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”

“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”

Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.

She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.

But she still loved Sebastian.

Ominis tightened his arm around her.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”

“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”

He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”

She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”

He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”

“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”

“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”

“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.

“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”

“I will.”

He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_.-~*~-._

The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.

Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.

She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.

“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”

She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.

Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.

She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.

The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.

Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.

An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”

The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.

“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”

They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.

The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.

They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.

No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.

Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.

Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.

“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”

Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.

“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”

He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.

“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.

“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.

“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”

She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.

He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.

“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”

“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.

She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.

She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.

She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.

She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.

“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”

His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.

“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”

Another miniscule nod.

“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”

No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.

“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”

A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.

“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”

A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.

“Was that a laugh, darling?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”

She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.

She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?

What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?

“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”

He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.

_.-~*~-._

Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”

He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”

He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.

“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.

How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.

“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”

No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.

She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.

“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”

He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.

“You alright?”

A tiny nod.

She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.

It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.

The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.

Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…

She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-

She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.

“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”

Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.

Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.

She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…

Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.

She couldn’t.

“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?

Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.

My darling Ominis,

Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.

I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.

Dracaena.

She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.

She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.

She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.

She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.

Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.

“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”

He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.

“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”

He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”

His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.

His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.

“This… is real? You’re… really here?”

She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”

He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.

“You… got me out?”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”

“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”

Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?

It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.

“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”

It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.

Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.

Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.

“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.

“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”

His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.

Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.

She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.

“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”

He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.

“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”

Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”

It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.

“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”

He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.

“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”

With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.

“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”

“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”

She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.

“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.

She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.

Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?

Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.

“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”

Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.

“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”

And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”

Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.

She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.

Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.

Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.

Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.

“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”

Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.

“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”

She held him close.

“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”

Masterlist

Part 2

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian smut #sebastian sallow smut #post azkaban sebastian #subastian

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sarahs-secrets2 · 1 year

Text

As Long As You're Mine 18+ ˋ♡ˊ

leon stops by for a final goodbye before a mission

fem!reader x leon kennedy

based on As Long As You're Mine (from Wicked)

word count: 1.1k MINORS DNI (I WILL BLOCK U)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Your feet trudged to answer the door, unsure who it was as it was past midnight already. Squinting, you glanced through the peephole, trying to decipher who was waiting on your doorstep. There he was, Leon Kennedy. It had been months since the last time he was last over. Casual sex, friends with benefits, whatever you called it, it was purely sex at the end of the day, despite your bubbling feelings. Hence why it had been months since you had last seen him, a cliche, catching feelings when it was supposed to be just sex.

“Open the door,” he eyed the peephole like he could see through it, “I know you're there,”

“It’s late Leon, go home,” you shouted through the door hoping he would make it easy for you.

“Let me in,” his voice was stern, demanding, and if you didn't like him so much you would've ignored him. You huffed out in defeat, Leon was completely magnetizing to you despite how much you tried to deny it. Your body yearned to be close to him. Going against every logical thought in your head, you opened the door.

“There she is,” he smirked, brushing past you and through the threshold.

“Leon you can’t just show up-”

“I leave tomorrow,” he quickly cut you off, eyes locking with yours.

“Oh,” your voice fell flat as you watched him walk closer towards you. It wasn’t abnormal for Leon to go off on a mission every now and then, but something about the way he looked at you in the dimly lit hallway signaled to you that this time it was different. A silence fell between the two of you as you were unsure why he had come here of all places and after all this time.

Despite it being awhile, you two had done this routine a thousand times and somehow, he still found a way to make you nervous. The way his eyes studied you, how his hands trailed lightly down your face as he leaned in closer, all of it made your stomach churn.

Your head spun as he tugged you closer, his hands resting nicely on your waist. His fingers were toying with the waistband of your pajamas. A small smile flickered across his face, you really weren’t expecting him were you?

Your hand rested flat on his chest as he continued to gaze down at you. “Come on,” you whispered, nails barely grazing his shirt as you slipped through his grasp. Like a lost puppy Leon followed you to the bedroom, a path he had taken many times. His hand rested on your waist as he trailed a few steps behind you.

Walking through your bedroom door you felt a wave of emotions, happy Leon was here with you but he was leaving soon. Was he going to be okay? What if something happens to him? Where does this leave the two of you?

The sound of the door shutting snapped you out of your mind and back into the dark room. Leon stood leaning his back against the door, watching you. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he pushed himself off the door, now sauntering towards you. The combination of the dark room and Leon’s brooding figure sent your senses on fire, anxious and anticipating his next move.

“It’s okay, I got you,” his voice was low as he finally approached you. His hands guided you back to lie down on the bed gently. Leon followed suit and maneuvered his way to hover over you. His lips connect with your neck leaving purple-tinged marks in a sporadic manner. Meanwhile, his hands were being diligent, removing your pajamas after teasing you earlier.

Leon looked back up at you leaning closer, his lips mere millimeters from yours. Any resistance that was holding you back had been shedded as Leon’s praise, mumbled quietly in your ear, sent a chill of confidence through you.

“As long as you’re mine,” the words were faint as they tumbled passed his lips, but you heard everything crystal clear. Too caught up in the moment, you were only able to nod back intently.

The gap between the two of you lessened as you felt yourself completely letting go into his grasp. His kiss was fierce, igniting a flame inside of you, like this was his admittance of the feelings he was holding back, like he knew this could be the last time.

Leon himself wasn't sure what had gotten into him as he began to slip off his shirt and unbuckle his pants. He had sworn you off, feelings got complicated and he just couldn't afford to get involved. It was pure torture staying away from you like an itch he couldn't scratch. Leon had become completely enamored with you and was entirely convinced you had him under a spell. The way his head spun whenever you were near, how nervous he got, he wanted to be with you. So once he found out he had to leave for something much more dangerous than normal, he had to see you if it was the last thing he did.

Your hands looped around Leon’s neck, needing him closer, trying to make up for the lost time. Bodies clashed as both of you tried to savor every last second. Leon could've been anywhere tonight, his last night, but he chose to be with you and that was all that mattered. Any unsure feelings or uncertainty between you two was now long gone, the line was officially crossed. The room was evidence of this, clothes strung out on the floor, sheets tousled into incoherent piles, the faint scent of sex and sweat lingering in the bedroom.

Morning was closely around the corner, as you and Leon did not do much sleeping. The sun peeked through the curtains, grabbing the covers your twisted away hiding in the shadows of your room. Your arm reached out for Leon but was met with nothing but an empty bed. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was last night even real? The sound of dishes clinking against each other pushed away any of your doubt as you peered your head out towards the kitchen.

“Morning,” he smirked, watching you emerge from the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “Here, you’ll need this,” winking as he passed you a mug full of coffee. Tugging the blanket around your shoulders tighter, you reached out to accept the coffee. Your eyebrows raised as you took a sip, a gesture to say ‘Thank You’.

“Least I can do,” he smiled while pulling you closer to him for a hug. His arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, the other still holding onto his mug as he stole a quick sip of coffee. Bending down he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, squeezing you closer to him. Neither of you thinking about his goodbyes that soon followed, or how he could be halfway across the globe in a matter of hours. For now, you two were making every last second count.

And just in this moment, he was yours.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy re4 #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #re4 leon #resident evil leon #leon kennedy smut

790 notes · View notes

ilguna · 5 months

Note

Hey! I love your work so much. Can you do 4 with four (tobias) from divergent ?

☼ succeed (tobias eaton) ☼

warnings; swearing, fighting, blood mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 4. "Why do you sacrifice so much for me?"

notes; tweaked canon, obviously. not really noticeable unless you’re a huge fan.

Dauntless initiation is—unsurprisingly—far from what you thought it would be. To be fair, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you were expecting in the first place. All you know was that you were going to be in for a ride when they made you jump on and off of a moving train directly after transferring.

This gave you a clue of what was to come, of course, but you took it in a different direction. If they wanted to see how daring you could be by risking your lives, then maybe that meant you’d be doing dangerous tasks throughout the rest of the month.

On the first day, you assumed that you’d be learning how to throw away your inhibitions and solely rely on your instincts. An idea that isn’t incredibly outlandish when it comes to Dauntless. After all, they’re the ones in charge of security and wall perimeter—the jobs that can end up being deadly.

This is why you didn’t have a significant reaction when you were informed by Four that they’d be introducing you to self-defense. They proceeded to hang you a gun, gave you a target, and told you to shoot until your bullets were gone. And after lunch, they brought you to a large room where you were taught how to properly fight an opponent.

This is when reality had begun to set in. They were not teaching you this in case the situation ever arose, but because they wanted you to use it in the coming week. You’re going to be forced to defend yourself, whether you like it or not. They were just being courteous enough to teach you how to, first.

You didn’t figure this out until yesterday when you saw the chalkboard. While it had previously been devoid of writing, it suddenly held a list of names side by side, pairing initiates up together. For the first few minutes, you were under the impression that it was for sparring.

When they sent Al and Will into the center circle together, instructed to fight one another, you looked at Four. You found his eyes already on you, arms crossed over his chest, face hard. In that moment, you remembered all of his warnings for you to pay close attention to the way he’d been throwing his kicks and punches.

It’s not like you were ignoring him, but you did continuously brush him off because he was being overbearing. He must’ve taken this as you just being a know-it-all Erudite, leaving you to figure it out on your own. You’d have to learn one way or another that your logic wouldn’t help.

When really, you hadn’t heard him when he said that you’d be fighting your fellow initiates.

You were a deer in headlights when the rules were explained. In these fights, you are to keep going until one of you is unable to continue. And while you could concede, it won’t be done without going unpunished. In the old rules, a brave man can acknowledge the strength of others. In the new rules, made by the newest Dauntless leader, a brave man never surrenders.

You think Four may have recognized that a mistake was made. He was quick to come up with an escape, albeit at the cost of your pride. He called you out in the middle of Eric’s explanation, telling you not to be sick on the floor unless you wanted to clean it. All you had to say was that breakfast wasn’t settling well, and you were excused to go sit down with a trash can.

With there being ten initiates in your group, there should’ve been five fights. You sat out, making it four, but none of you made it past the second one. Will and Al fought just fine, Al even won. The next fight to happen was Christina and Molly, which was following the same pattern as the first fight, until Christina decided that she wanted to concede.

That’s when you were informed that a punishment would go along with it. Eric was pissed, dragging Christina all the way to the chasm in the Pit that hangs above the river, barking at the rest of you to follow. He then made her climb to the other side of the railing and forced her to hold on to the bridge by her hands until he was satisfied.

When she didn’t fall to her death, you were dismissed for the rest of the day. This destroyed your plan of analyzing the fighting techniques of the others to figure out what you’re supposed to do. To make up for it, you thought you could come practice in the middle of the night, but the doors were locked.

So, to put it lightly, you’re screwed. The only way to learn now is from the fights that will be taking place, and even then you’ll still be at a disadvantage no matter how you approach it.

As soon as you step foot into the training room, your eyes find the chalkboard, curious to who you’ve been paired up with today. Yesterday, it was supposed to be Tris, the Abnegation transfer. She would’ve been a good first fight to figure out how you want to be in the ring, but that opportunity has passed.

Today, you are given more of a challenging opponent—Peter.

“Oh no,” A voice says, you glance over your shoulder to see that Christina is limping her way over to Tris. Her face is fairly bruised from the beating she received from Molly yesterday. “At least you aren’t paired with Peter.”

Both of them look in your direction, and you accidentally lock eyes with Christina for a moment. You press your lips together in disgust and turn away, no longer interested in their conversation. You are not a member of Erudite anymore, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop seeing you that way. Not until you prove to them that you’re not snot-nosed.

You turn your attention to Peter, who’s got a good few inches on you. Which wouldn’t be an issue, much less have you worried, if he didn’t have the muscle he does. This fight could easily go two ways, but you have a feeling it’s leaning in his favor more than yours.

“Maybe she can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious.” Al suggests loud enough for you to hear. “No one would blame her.”

You grit your teeth at the idea of taking the cowards way out, something that you won’t be doing, no matter how tempting it is. Even if it does work out in your favor, there’s no telling what Eric will do to you when he figures out that you’d faked it. While he made Christina hang from the chasm by her hands, he’d tell you to do something much worse. Or kick you out of initiation altogether for not having the Dauntless heart.

Which isn’t true. You belong here.

Fortunately, you and Peter are not the first fight of the day, it’s Edward and Molly. You might as well be, though. The pair of you are listed directly underneath them. You think that you’d even prefer being the first to go. If you could get it out of the way, you would.

As you mindlessly watch Edward and Molly, you try to pick out some of their moves to remember with Peter. Four had taught the group of you the basics to get started, he never said that you couldn’t mix in what you know as well. Which is nothing, because you’ve never got into a fight before. There was never a need to.

The personalization works out in Edward’s favor. The technique that Molly had used yesterday on Christina is fairly predictable. On top of that, she’s not fast enough to keep up with Edward’s pace. It’s only a matter of minutes before she’s beaten near-unconscious. That’s when Drew and Peter work together to peel her off of the wooden floor and to the nearest wall to recover.

In the short time you have, you take a couple of deep breaths, shaking your hands to rid the anxious energy that’s fueling your body. You make eye contact with Four briefly, and in this time, he gives you a solid nod. He’s confident in your abilities, more so than you are. It’s a shame that you’re probably going to let him down.

Still, you walk your way to the white circle, standing at one end of it while you wait for Peter. When he finally turns his attention to you,. There’s a smile spread across his face,

“You okay there, Blowhard?” Peter teases, you can almost feel your eyes bulge out of your head at the nickname. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry.”

“Did you just call me a Blowhard?” You sputter out a laugh. “What does that make you, a Crybaby?”

You look past Peter, at Four, who’s standing side-by-side with Eric. His face is twisted, focused hard on the two of you in the ring. Eric, on the other hand, is tapping his foot quickly, impatience shining through.

Peter raises his hands by his face, elbows and knees bent as he begins to prepare for the fight. “Come on, (Y/n). Just one little tear. Maybe some begging.”

Without warning, you swing your leg at his side, intending to land a kick. He’s prepared for this, grabbing your ankle and yanking you forward, pulling you off balance. You land on your back, but quickly twist to get back to your feet, fists returning, readying yourself.

“Stop playing with her.” Eric suddenly snaps. “I don’t have all day.”

This is enough for Peter, as the amused look on his face disappears. His movement is one giant blur, but the pain in your jaw is sharp, as it continues to spread across your face. For a moment, bright white stars and a black void flow across your vision, taking your balance with it.

You blink rapidly, backing away from Peter as you try to get the room to stop swaying. This lasts for a few seconds at most, because Peter is moving just as quickly as Edward had been. He appears in front of you, foot slamming into your stomach, stealing the air from your lungs.

You clutch your ribs as you fight through the pain in your abdomen. Peter takes this as an invitation to come closer, but you’re expecting this. You catch his fist as you slide your foot between his legs, tripping him. Instead of falling forward, you throw him back, twisting his arm in the process.

You land on your knees hard. The dull pain is at the front of your thoughts for a second before you’ve got your first slamming into Peter’s nose. You get two hits in, then he takes a fistful of hair at the back of your head, yanking. He repays the favor by punching you in the nose.

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick or slap, because he’s got a tight grip. The next hit he lands is to your ribs, in the same place that you’d been holding onto moments prior. You open your mouth, letting out a strangled cry, and a metallic taste spreads over your tongue. One word comes to mind; blood.

He lets go of your hair, shoving you away. You land on your palms, gasping through your lips, eyes blurry with tears as you search the ground for the white paint. You begin to crawl away, wanting to put some distance between the two of you while you take a breath, but he grabs your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

He draws his foot back, and despite knowing what’s coming, you don’t move in time, letting the toe of his shoe sink into your skin. You cough, the next few seconds are agonizing as you forget how to breathe, like a fish out of water.

“That’s enough.” Four’s voice breaks through the silence. “Get her out.”

“She’s still moving.” Eric tells him. “She gets out when she can no longer go on.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you move to roll over. You won’t play pretend, you refuse to take the easy way out. You are not an Erudite anymore, you won’t run. You’re going to fight.

Somehow you manage to get to your feet, fists raised, eyes barely focusing on Peter long enough to keep track of him. You gather the blood in your mouth, spitting it at his feet.

“Come at me, you little bitch.” You murmur.

Peter flies across the circle, fist coming at your face. You manage to catch it with one hand, and with the other, you slap him with an open palm. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the air, there’s a few audible gasps in the room.

It’s over, you think. Just before Peter knocks your lights out.

When you come back to Earth, you’re suspended in the air, swaying from side to side. You’ve never been motion sick before, but the dizziness is so hard to handle that this is enough to send you over the edge.

“‘M gonna be sick.” You mutter.

The world stops moving for a second, and then you’re placed on your feet. Your hands reach for something to hold on to as support. They come into contact with another hand, which you wrap your fingers around tightly as your breakfast comes back up as a liquid.

When you’re done, you turn to face the person who had just been holding you in their arms. You’re met with Four, who has his eyebrows raised, waiting for you to say something.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For putting me down.” You breathe, leaning over with your hands on your knees. “And for trying to get me out of there. And for delaying my fight yesterday.”

When you look at him again, there’s a softer look on his face, different from the scowl that you’re used to seeing. He reaches over, rubbing a hand over your back. “It’s okay, (Y/n).”

“You could’ve gotten in trouble with Eric.” You say, shaking your head as you move to stand straighter. “Why do you sacrifice so much for me?”

Four opens his mouth, and then closes it. It’s silent between the two of you for a minute as he decides how he wants to respond. Or maybe he’s thinking that you’ll change the subject. With your persistence, he sighs.

“Because you’re different.”

this was part of my 3k celeberation!!

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

Text

Adopt a Jock Part Four / Part Five P 1 YOU ARE HERE / Part Five P 2

As always I own my soul to @chalkysgarbagefire and Hayley for helpin out with this one!

The problem with D&D games was that the drama room was only available on specific days.

As in, the days Hellfire was scheduled as a club for, much to said club’s distress.

This led directly into the second issue Hellfire faced--finding a place to host them all when they wanted to do something as a group outside of the main campaign they played.

(At least anything D&D related, with all of the screaming, ranting, and frantic dice rolling that came with it.)

Gareth knew Eddie had been lying through his teeth when he'd try to pitch Steve's house as a Hellfire hangout. Accepted that they’d never get to use all the sweet, sweet space Steve was known to have as much as he’d accepted Steve himself.

It was a lot, after all. Particularly when Eddie’s one-shots were known to last a good chunk of the day.

Once again, Steve had proved them all wrong.

(“We can use my house.” were five words not a single person at the table had ever expected to hear out of Harrington’s mouth, and it showed in the shocked silence that followed when he actually spoke them.

“What?” Steve asked, as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Space is the problem right? So my house is the perfect solution.”

“Are you sure dude?” Grant asked hesitantly. “You know this one-shot isn’t gonna be a like, two hour thing, right?”

To their surprise Steve just gave him a flat, almost dead-eyed stare in return. “I’ve hosted the kids at my place before. Believe me, I am well aware.”

“As long as you’re absolutely sure…” Jeff had added, and could only roll his eyes when he got a sassy response from Steve.

Gareth of course, caught the way Steve kept seeking out Eddie’s eyes, as if hoping to make their oldest friend smile simply by offering up his house.

He didn’t even need to look to know it was working.)

It had taken some creative thinking (and a few wild excuses) to finangle things so that he could show up to Steve's literal castle of a home before anyone else without alerting Eddie but he'd managed it.

It was in fact, looking to be the highlight of Gareth's month.

Possibly the year, if they managed to pull off the little plot he had cooked up.

“I still don’t get how this is a prank.” Steve said, as Gareth prepped him before the others arrived.

"Trust me. If Eddie is anything, it's a jealous bitch." Gareth replied, seated on one of the countertops. "We dethrone him and he's gonna make an ass of himself for the next week. It'll be hilarious."

"I fail to see how that's different than usual." Steve grumbled as he bustled about.

Upon arrival Gareth had found him elbow deep into making cookies and what appeared to be themed cocktails, among several other bowls full of snacks of all kinds.

There was even little finger sandwiches, the kind that absolutely looked homemade, and Gareth would have teased him about that except he’d instantly stuffed two in his mouth.

("I won't be able to host since I'm playing, so I just want everything done before anyone comes over." Was Steve's explanation, when Gareth did manage to get out a few teasing quips.

With the proud lack of manners so many teenage boys possessed, Gareth talked right through his mouth of food. "God you’re a dork. How the hell did you get popular?"

"Shut up Emerson, you're wearing two jackets." Steve snipped in response, as if he didn’t look like the poster boy for Nordstrom.)

"Don't bring logic into this." Gareth continued, as he tried to snag some cookie dough.

Steve smacked the back of his hand with a spoon.

"Get a bowl and a spoon if you're going to eat the dough!" Steve grumbled at him, already bustling to get said bowl and spoon himself. “God you’re worse than Eddie. And the kids!”

Gareth waited until Steve turned before he stuck his tongue out at him. "Whatever you say, mom."

He got an over exaggerated eye roll in response.

"Anyway, the point is you're gonna witness something we'll get to tease Eddie about for years." Gareth said, as he watched Steve dole out some dough.

"You get to watch the little hamster on the wheel that powers Eddie's brain lose its shit and cause him to do something really stupid.” He made grabby hands for the bowl and spoon, and tucking in delightfully the second Steve handed them over.

Steve himself treated the entire exchange like he was feeding a particularly vicious and wild animal, making a show of yanking his hands back like Gareth might just go for his fingers. "I just don't understand why the thing you wanna fight about is cuddling."

"Bragging rights. The jokes we can make. The fact that your thighs look like they were made out of clouds, take your pick man.” Gareth counted off, in-between bites of dough.

"Clouds?" Steve asked, tilting his head.

“Big muscley clouds, Harrington. Also Grant’s here.”

Steve blinked. “How do you-” He asked, right before the sound of a car with an engine far too loud pulled into his driveway.

“He drives an absolute piece of crap. You ride in that thing one time and you’ll be able to hear it coming for the rest of your life.” Gareth explained, as Steve peered out the kitchen and down to his front doors.

(Plural, because he had two.

Gareth had never felt more judged by slabs of wood in his life than he had when he’d walked through them.)

"Last chance to bail, Stevie.” Gareth teased. “I won't hold it against you if you call it off mid-show though."

Steve didn’t answer for a moment, too busy disrobing from his baking apron—a bright yellow and red garment that practically swallowed him whole, complete with an embroidered ‘Claudia Henderson’ over the right breast. The embroidery gave rise to a few questions but Gareth decided to save them for later.

"No, something this fucking weird has to have a story behind it and I want to witness the fallout.” Steve finally replied, before rushing out of the kitchen.

He ripped open his front door, right after a knock echoed loudly throughout the house.

“Shit! What the hell man, were you just waiting to do that!?” Stewart yelped, prompting Gareth to snicker quietly and Steve to apologize.

Like the wealthy housewife he’d been no doubt raised by, Steve went through a whole spiel as he ushered Stewart and Grant in, pointing out bathrooms, letting them know where the game was going to take place (the giant fuck off table that looked like it should be hosting some kind of high-stakes negotiation instead of a bunch of nerds) and where they could put their things (into a closet dedicated to just guests.)

The trio of Eddie, Tiffany and Jeff arrived next, the latter two having been roped into helping Eddie haul his “D&D To Go” bags around.

Steve started his little host speech over, much to Gareth’s amusement, fluttering about and entirely forgetting about his cookies until the oven dinged, causing him to swear and rush back into the kitchen.

“Dude, breathe.” Gareth told him, almost done with his bowl. “It’s a D&D game, you don’t gotta go full out for us.”

“I just want to make sure everyone has a good time.“ Steve said with a shrug. Like none of the effort he’d gone to, was a big deal.

“Careful Harrington, say stuff like that again and we’re going to start thinking you enjoy hosting us.”

“Shut up Gary.” Steve said, setting his cookies on a cooling rack. “And put that bowl in the sink!”

Gareth jumped off the counter, trying his best to remove the shit eating from his face.

He failed entirely.

xXx

As far as pranks went, this one required quite the set up.

They couldn’t do it in the beginning of the D&D game--too obvious, and too easy for Eddie to call bullshit.

Doing it at the end wouldn’t work either. Eddie would know they were trying to rile him up and would no doubt find a way to ruin it.

Years of being Munson’s best friend had afforded Gareth the knowledge that this was going to have to be split in two parts, and the first part, the setup, started now.

Slowly. Methodically.

In a way that wouldn't spook Steve, or trigger Eddie's sense for trouble.

Gareth began by selecting a seat as far away from Eddie as possible, knowing his lovestruck idiot friend would be pulling out all the stops tonight in order to impress Steve (and get him to keep playing, of course.)

Sure enough, as soon as Eddie was done setting up he crooked a finger in Steve's direction.

“Harrington you’re here, next to me.” Eddie flashed him his most award winning grin, the one that said he was up to trouble in that charming, ‘aren’t I just a charming ol’ rogue?” sort of way.

“I made you a human fighter, just to start you off." He continued, as Steve took the seat next to him. "You can always make your own character later if you don't like playing this class, but I made this set up as straightforward as possible.”

“Human fighter huh?” Steve said, glancing down the sheet. “Okay.”

“You have any questions, you just ask. I promise I won’t bite. Not for your first time anyway.” Eddie winked, dipping in and out of Steve's space as he did so.

“Dude, I am begging you to please stop saying shit like that.” Jeff said with a long suffering sigh.

“No.” Eddie replied promptly, sticking his tongue out.

Steve just ducked his head to hide his smile.

A harsh clap halted any further response, as Eddie settled back into his seat and dipped into his DM narrator voice.

"Alright my little adventurers! Are we ready to begin?" He looked around as everyone looked towards him, the energy shifting instantly in the room.

Eddie grinned gleefully. "Perfect. You all wake up at an Inn, with no memory of how you got there…"

A story was quickly spun, one of mysterious memory loss and a sense that the group needed to stay together. Introductions were given once everyone came into the tavern of the inn, cut short when they were interrupted by a lone barkeep.

“Is the barkeep a human?” Steve cut in.

Eddie paused, temporarily thrown, but nodded encouragingly. “Yes, he is actually!”

Grant and Jeff both went to open their mouths, no doubt to tease, but Harrington beat them to it.

“Okay, I roll to fight him, or whatever.” Steve said.

“I--what?” Eddie asked.

“I roll to fight him.” Steve repeated. “Oh and my character screams “Death to humans!” before he attacks.”

He sat back with a smug little grin, and watched as Eddie froze in surprise, while Grant and Stewart's jaws promptly hit the floor.

“Harrington, you menace.” Tiff cackled, delighted.

Eddie just threw his head back and laughed.

It set the tone quite nicely for the rest of the one-shot.

xXx

“Grant, why are you looking at me through a fork?” Steve asked, about thirty minutes into the game.

“I’m pretending you’re in jail.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Grant, whose character had to physically carry Steve's fighter out of two altercations he started, just gave him a flat look. “It’s spiritually healing.”

"Hey Jeff." Gareth asked quietly, as banter was traded. "I'm catching a hell of a draft over here."

Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Switch me seats?"

Jeff rolled his eyes, but gave in easily enough.

"Fine." He said.

Gareth did his best to keep his grin off his face.

Step one, complete!

xxx

"You come upon a door." Eddie said, sitting deep in his seat while steepling his fingers. "It's a normal door, unremarkable in every way except for two things."

Groans filled the room, startling Steve.

"Oh god, not again." Stewart moaned, raking his hands through his hair. "I can't do this again!"

Eddie's grin merely grew. "The first odd thing you notice is that the door has been put into the wall at a tilt."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tiff snarled, writing something frantically in her notes. "Munson is a dead man walking."

"What is happening?" Steve asked, glancing around.

"The second thing is that you recognize this door." Eddie's grin was Cheshire cat-esque, smug in the chaos he was causing among his friends. "It's the same door you saw at the beginning of this adventure, leading into the room the Innkeeper asked you to stay away from."

"We're boned." Grant announced, throwing himself dramatically back against his chair.

Gareth made his own dramatic, frustrated noise, banging his fist on the table.

The full glass of soda next to him wobbled dangerously.

With a cough, he made another loud "ugh!" smacking his fist down a second time, closer to the glass.

As intended, it spilled all over Tiffany.

"Dude!" She exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and jumping up.

"Oh shit Tiff, I'm so sorry!" Gareth gasped.

It was hard to keep a straight (albeit very sorry, least Tiffany hit him with her papers) face, but he managed.

Barely.

"You got my shirt wet you dick!"

"Here, switch it with this." Gareth stood, unwrapping the red and black checkered sweater from his waist. He offered it up with an apologetic face as Tiff snatched it out of his hands with a glare.

"I'll switch you seats too!" He called as she stormed off towards the bathroom.

Jeff and Grant both stared at him with raised eyebrows as Gareth quickly shuffled his and Tiff's stuff around, taking her now sticky chair.

"Maybe we should take a break?" He suggested, trying to act embarrassed when he was anything but. "This whole area needs to be wiped down."

"Five minutes." Eddie conceded. "I wanted one of Stevie's delicious cookies anyway." He stood, putting his arms up in a lazy stretch.

Steve stood with him, leaning over to examine the mess Gareth had made. “We can wipe this down but this wood’s kinda funny, it’s gonna be wet for a bit no matter how much we dry it.”

“Well shit.” Gareth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the table man.”

Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, the kids spill on it constantly. You are probably going to need a different chair though unless you’re fine with your ass getting wet.”

“Do you have another chair somewhere, Stevie?” Eddie asked, making a show of looking around. “Cause I’m not seeing one. Not that I care if Gary-Berry sits on the floor.”

Steve had several extra chairs in fact, but he and Gareth had hidden them all away before anyone else had arrived.

“I used to, but Mike broke two.” Steve said, and Gareth found himself insanely impressed by the improv on display.

He hadn’t thought Harrington had that level of acting in him.

“If you’re okay with sharing though, the chair’s are big enough that we can kinda squish together.” Steve continued, completely ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes about bugged out of his head.

“Only if you’re sure, man. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” Gareth put on his saddest, ‘I dun fucked up’ face, and shuffled his feet a little, just for dramatic effect.

This was the performance of a lifetime and Gareth wanted his Grammy after it, because he and Steve had planned the entire thing right down to the shared chair bit.

“You’re not, Dustin does this constantly.” Steve replied easily.

“Or we could just put down a towel.” Jeff said, with a look on his face that said he thought everyone in the room was a fucking idiot.

Gareth could’ve strangled him.

“That’s probably a smarter idea.” Steve agreed, like the traitor he was. “I dunno if that’s gonna work for your papers and shit though, so you can just hedge into my space.”

Which wasn’t what Gareth wanted, but he had to give Steve props for the quick thinking.

At least it was just a minor setback.

“I’ll get a towel.” Jeff continued, and at least they all got to witness the look that graced Eddie’s face upon realizing that Jeff of all people, knew where Steve kept his towels.

xXx

"What the hell else can we do to try and open the door!?" Jeff snarled a while later, slamming his pencil down.

They'd tried multiple different approaches and so far nothing had worked to set off whatever trap Eddie had set up. Something that made their DM absolutely delighted, while frustrating everyone else.

"I still don't get why we can't just try to turn the knob." Steve complained, staring in confusion at the absolute riot Eddie's "completely normal" door had caused among the rest of his party.

"Do not touch that door Harrington!" Grant bellowed, pointing at him.

Steve raised his hands in the air placatingly. "Easy, easy, I was just making a suggestion."

Gareth, wedged as close into Steve's space as he could get, tapped his fingers on the table twice. It was the little code he’d come up with to alert Steve that he was about to do something to piss off Eddie related to the prank (mostly, so Steve had a heads up Gareth was about to touch him, not that Gareth had spun it that way when he’d explained it) before patting Steve’s shoulder, hooking his elbow on it and leaning over. “Not gonna lie man, it’s not a bad idea. We’ve tried right about everything else.”

He could feel Eddie's eyes burning a hole in his skull from here and he delighted in it.

“Do not encourage him.” Grant said through gritted teeth.

Gareth leaned his face on the arm perched on Harrington, his hair tickling Steve’s cheek as he tried to look as angelic as possible. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean, Grantman.”

He was flipped off in response.

xXx

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Stewart howled, and even Gareth’s jaw dropped when Steve finally gave in and tried to turn the knob--only to succeed and swing the door open.

“Well Munson? What happens to him?” Tiff said, having refused to call Eddie anything but his last name since the door had first appeared.

“Nothing.” Eddie practically purred. “I told you, it’s a totally normal door, and the only weird thing about it was that you recognized it and that it was put into the wall a little tilted.”

“Fuck you dude.” Stewart practically growled, balling up the piece of paper he’d been doodling on and flinging it towards their DM. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck. You!”

“No thank you.” Eddie replied cheekily, twirling a finger in his hair.

“We spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to open a regular door.” Jeff said, clearly processing. “An hour.”

Eddie just shrugged, shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Gareth once again tapped his fingers twice against the table, waited a moment, before banging his head gently against Steve’s shoulder. “I hate him.” He groaned.

After a long moment, Steve gently, if not a little awkwardly, patted him on the head.

“There, there, Gary. We defeated the door in the end.” He said calmly.

Gareth laughed, absolutely delighted. His head jerked up and a grin crossed his face as he immediately looked to see what Eddie made of that.

Pure murder, going by the face Eddie poorly tried to cover.

Perfect.

xXx

“With his last few moves, Sir Carrington-”

"I refuse to let that be my character's name.” Steve interjected, as he had every time Eddie brought up the name they’d apparently argued over. “If I have to figure out how to change it legally in your dumb game I fucking will."

Eddie didn’t even look in his direction.

“--Sir Carrington leaps into the air, swinging the sword of truth. It cleaves right through the Innkeeper, revealing him to be the dastardly villain you’ve heard so much about, Tareth the Trait. He’s gained an unusual amount of power after stealing the Inn from the former Innkeeper--”

“Really bro?” Gareth said, sending Eddie a flat look. “Tareth the Trait?”

“--With this final blow, Tareth collapses to the ground, dead. The Inn returns to its prior form, a safe haven for adventurers, instead of a trap.”

“Shut up guys, we did it!” Stewart said, throwing his hands up in a victory pose.

“Not gonna Eddie, I liked the twist.” Tiff complimented, a rare thing from her.

“Thank you, thank you.” Eddie stood up, sweeping an arm across his chest as he bowed. “Give yourselves a round of applause as well, especially for our dear Steven, who just completed his first D&D game!”

A cheer went up, causing Steve to flush red.

Gareth pretending to drum, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s much the way he had seen Eddie do as Steve sent an embarrassed smile around the room.

“We should celebrate.” Jeff said, as the chaos finally died down.

“I conquer, Jeff the Chef!” Eddie hollered, putting his foot on Steve’s chair. “Stevie-boy, you gotta have some good stuff around here for those big basketball wins!”

“Get your foot off the chair, Eds.” Steve groaned, but stood up (forcing Gareth to get up as well considering how far he’d been leaning into Steve’s space.) “And yeah we can order like pizza.”

“Pizza and beer?” Grant suggested.

“Oh my friend. I can do better than that.” Steve replied, a flash of his old, charming self coming through. “Allow me to raid my father’s liquor cabinet.”

“Hell yes!” Grant yelled, pumping his fist.

Tiffany rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and neither Gareth noted, did anyone else.

Which was exactly what he wanted, because he hadn’t managed to land the perfect ending he and Harrington had planned.

Gareth would make it into Steve’s lap tonight, even if it killed him.

(Or worse, even if Eddie got there first, a thing that may very well happen considering Eddie was clearly annoyed with how Gareth had been hogging Steve.

Just as intended.)

SOME NOTES: I don't play d&d so writing it always requires a lot of research. Several pieces here (like the human fighter bit) are based off of/stolen from memes, videos or stories I read. If I fucked it up thaaaan idk squint and pretend its right LOL.

This one doesn’t have a bonus because I had to split Chapter Five into two parts. This is Part One, it’ll be one chapter on A03. It just kept going.

Also Adopt a Jock is officially going up ON A03 so I will no longer be accepting tags ( Ch. One is already uploaded I’m just struggling with the summary lol. I will make a post and link it to my pinned post when it’s up.) I will still be updating here since I am only updating chapters on A03 as fast as I can edit them, which is not fast at all, so I imagine the next few chaps will be here before there but eventually shits gonna even out, so those who did not get onto the tag list can subscribe to the A03!

Finally, Sorry this took so long, I have a prior ongoing medical issue and getting laid off fucked up my insurance. Had to cram in some procedures before it ran out. Long story short all I've done is sleep, go to a doctor or rant about one of the two lmao. Legit slept 18 hours yesterday ahaha k i l l m e

#this is more of an intro to lap wars than lap wars itself #but Part Two turns into Drunk Movie Night Sleepover Time so you bet your ASS lap wars is coming #Gareth continues to be both a gremlin #and a g #steddie #pre steddie #slow burn #steddie LOL #gareth emerson #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #this chapter fought me #ngl I actually extended this whole fic out bc I wanted to write more hellfire shenanagins before the summer hit #and thus Robin and the S3 plot that I'll be messing up LOL

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