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beskarberry · 3 years

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Ghosts of the River Styx

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 8

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

“The last embers of a fire were still smouldering under a protective lean-to, but the rest of the area had been thrown apart, with tents and bodies littering the trampled grounds, cold as the grave in the torrential downpour. The taste of bile stung at the back of your throat when you saw the size of the tiny corpses, are those… younglings?”

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Rating: Explicit

Word count: 16.4k

Content warnings: SEXY THINGS: More fluff than a bag of marshmallows, food play, power play, orgasm denial, fan favorites fingering/handjobs/p in v/ praise kink/ cream pies etc. UNSEXY THINGS: Bounty hunters doing their thing, blood n guts, near-death experiences, mentions of death, PTSD/ mentions of trauma.

A/N: I put entirely too much into this chapter, its a lot to put it plainly. Lot of backstory for reader, some good (read: terrible) scary moments between the two of them, but overall just some good old fashioned love-conquers-all for this pair of sappy badasses.

The rain that was coming down on the forest moon of Endor was like nothing you had ever seen, drenching sheets of water flooding from the sky so hard and fast that it felt like an entire ocean had been turned over above you. You were warm and dry on the flight deck of the Razor Crest, watching the downpour through the rounded transparisteel window over a ration tin, though you knew you wouldn’t be comfortable for much longer. Your choice of stars had sent you to the wooded satellite in search of smugglers, and you were a little more excited than you probably should have been at the bounty puck’s instructions to leave no survivors; though you wondered how you would find anything in this weather.

In your arms the foundling watched the riverettes of water streaming down the window, pointing with his little claws at the fat drops racing by between stealing bites of your dinner. His cosmic eyes blinked up at you expectantly whenever lightning crackled above, and his ears went straight up at the roar of thunder, making you laugh. “What was that, booger? Scary noise?” He chirruped and wiggled closer to your chest, torn between trying to hide from the storm and wanting to watch the light show. You rubbed his ears affectionately, trying to console the little beastie when someone else’s hand came around to join yours. Din pat his son’s fuzzy green head, leaning heavily on your shoulder while he did so, pressing kisses to the side of your face. “Well, what do you think?” you asked your partner, “Are we gonna have to put some rubber boots on and get going?”

“Unfortunately yes. This rain’s not going to stop, and if we don’t move soon we might lose the trail.” The green terror was lifted from your lap, “You ready to go outside, womp rat?” The baby started to gibber a response, but the flash of lightning outside made him curl in a little ball against his fathers cuirass, frightened of the inevitable boom of thunder. “Sorry kid, you’re going to have to get used to that while we’re here.” Your armored companion offered you his hand to help you from your seat, and your trio got to work on preparing for a few days in the rain.

Everything that you owned had come from Tatooine, where water had to be collected from dew in underground pits instead of falling from the sky, and nothing you had was waterproof. Your muckboots were at least partially hydrophobic, ensuring that the only thing on you that might be dry after this excursion would be your socks. Mando’s equipment wasn’t any more helpful, he had a large oilskin cloak and a couple of tarps that could be fashioned into a waterproof tent, but nothing else. You tucked the tarps into your bag while Mando tied the cloak around the child’s pram, deciding that if anyone was going be to warm and dry, it should be the foundling. In his many lockers there was a collection of cold weather clothing, heavy fur parkas and long johns, but the rain that was coming down would turn all that into dead weight, and you forwent warmth for dexterity. At the armory you picked out a good selection of blades rather than loading yourself down with extra blasters, which could get finicky in the wet weather, and steel would never let you down, rain or shine.

Din fussed lovingly with your gear while you tried to dress yourself with the miss-matched collection of blades, lingering over each holster and sheath as if you couldn’t see clear through him. He loved watching you arm yourself to the teeth in his collection of armaments, and you knew as much as he enjoyed watching you put them on, he would have even more fun getting them off of you later. When he caught you snickering at his antics, he pulled you to him by the straps that criss-crossed your body, unable to keep his wandering hands to himself. He drew you close, allowing you to push his helmet up so he could kiss you. His kisses were hungry, as though you hadn’t spent every jump through hyperspace in each other's company on the way to your next target.

The Mandalorian had spent so long alone, only having the company of other iron-bound warriors and the odd reluctant ally for kinship, but never knowing the feel of another’s skin against his own until you came into his life and knocked down all his walls. The feel of you against him was intoxicating, and he happily let himself get caught up in your affections every chance he got. Your lips were so soft against his, matched only by the softness of your body, and he praised your beauty and strength until your cheeks burned from his lust-laden devotion.

He wanted to be a good husband to you, to earn the right to be by your side every day as if that wasn’t what you already knew he would be. Not a single inch of you was spared his affections, kisses that whispered ‘cyare’ whenever his lips reached your ears and warm palms on your hips that rocked yours against his whenever you were in his arms. Though of all his touches, the one that made your heart sing the sweetest was whenever you were just near enough to each other that he could sneak his fingers in between your own, locking your hands together with a gentle squeeze.

A new hunt was before you now, and you stole one more kiss from his lovely face before the beskar fell back down. The access ramp of the old ship fell open slowly, and the change in pressure sucked cold spray into the cabin, making a chill run through you, of course it has to be cold rain. You pulled your mask down over your eyes and tightened your cloak around yourself before marching out into the storm. The rainfall was blinding, and you jacked with your mask’s settings to get some kind of sight back. Thermal was useless, everything coming back as purples and greens in the chill. Night vision almost worked well enough, and you turned to glance back at your comrades, watching the eerie green figure sauntering up behind you with a large, jellyfish shaped blob floating along behind. Water coursed over his beskar and down his many plates, pooling in the indents of his pauldrons and the ridges of his chest piece; giving him a ghastly, wraith-like appearance. You were thankful that the foundling was up off the ground, you, on the other hand, were sinking into the mud with each laboured step. You yelled to your beloved spectre, but your voice was whisked away by the falling rain, making your heart sink with the realization that you could be cut off from him and the child if you lost visual on your crew.

The forests of Endor were renowned throughout the galaxy, not for their hurricaine-like rainstorms, but for the colossal trees that grew like living skyscrapers, clustered together so densely that they would have blot out the sun if it was shining. You couldn’t tell if it was day or night under the sprawling branches, between their thick canopies and the harrowing rain, it was darker than a sarlacc’s backside on the forest floor. The sound of water roaring through the tree branches and the sound of your own breathing echoing in your audio processors made the world somehow seem sprawling and also very, very crowded. Your lungs were already becoming strained with the chore of plowing through the mud and climbing over the serpentine roots of the gargantuan foliage, the strain of your muscles becoming your only source of heat.

Your crew plodded along through the rain and mud, following the slow, lazy blink of the fob on Mando’s belt; and you shivered with the cold that was sinking into your bones. The weight of your drenched clothing was starting to become a burden, and you pulled your cloak around to attempt to wring the water from it, but it was quickly resaturated as the rain bore down on you and soaked you through. You craved the warmth of conversation, or even the heat of your mate’s body, but the storm drowned out any sound you would have made. As if he could feel your loneliness, Din reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring, soggy squeeze that gave you just enough of an ember of warmth to keep you going.

You hiked for hours, and it wasn’t until you were shaking from the cold damp that you noticed the speed of the fobs blinker, it was quicker; indicating that you were getting close. After another hour or so through the sleeting downpour, the flashes of the fob were speeding as fast as your racing heart, the thrill of the hunt spurring you through the timberlands. Between the mammoth trunks you caught something in your visor, a lighter color against the dark grey-greens of the trees, and you flipped your senors back to thermal detection. Ahead, flicking faintly between the now blue and purple of the ice cold foliage, was a tiny spec of red. Fire. You pulled a blade from your belt and knocked the pommel against your beskar, the high pitched ringing getting Mando’s attention for you to signal what you saw, pointing at your eyes then at the target. He signaled back to you, indicating that you would flank the location on either side, and you nodded before vanishing alone into the dark.

The rough-barked skyscrapers provided almost too much coverage as you approached the scene, making it difficult to get a visual on the campsite. Between each living obelisk, you slinked your way closer, catching snippets of the area between the wooden walls, trying to piece the scene together in your mind; and an uneasy feeling began to creep it’s way under the cold of your skin. Something was wrong, though you couldn’t be sure why until you were almost on top of the ruined campsite. The last embers of a fire were still smouldering under a protective lean-to, but the rest of the area had been thrown apart, with tents and bodies littering the trampled grounds, cold as the grave in the torrential downpour. The taste of bile stung at the back of your throat when you saw the size of the tiny corpses, are those… younglings?

You drew your knives on reflex like a nexu puffs its barbs at the approaching body coming through the mist, sheathing them quickly when you realized it was your Mandalorian. He bent down to inspect the bodies in the mud, turning a child-sized corpse over and revealing its wounds. Up close you you could tell it wasn’t human, it looked like some kind of two-legged bear, wearing a little cloth hood around its furry head. You’d never seen anything like it before, it had a snubbed face and little gapped teeth, and in life it was probably pretty cute. The other bodies nearby all had the same gaping blast holes in their chest, and whatever had made these kills, it had to be big.

The remains of the campfire cast uneasy shadows around the already oppressive darkness, and in the faded light you could just barely make out the edges of tracks in the mud. Large, rectangular indents sank deep in the waterlogged soil, and your guts flopped grossly when you realized what their source had to be: Imp Walker. Both of your visors locked on the widely spaced tracks, and even through the pouring rain you could see him clench his fists. You started to say something when movement caught the corner of your eye through the sheets of rain, and you snapped on where you thought the threat might be; but there was nothing there. You cycled your sensors, trying to pick anything up on your visor, but the kaleidoscope told you nothing of value; maybe you were imagining things.

Rustling from the nearby bushes confirmed your sanity, and you lept back towards your crewmates with blades drawn, ready to defend them from the incoming assailants. Your oathsworn pushed you behind him on instinct, doing his human shield routine while you tried to do yours, and if you weren’t in immediate danger the situation would have been hilarious. You raised your vibros, sending fans of spray arching off of your pulsating blades, ready to tackle whatever tried to hurt your foundling or your husband. The surge of adrenaline warmed your insides and stoked your fire until it was burning at your eyes; but the squat creature that wobbled out from the bushes had you almost dropping your weapons with how fucking cute it was. What the actual fuck is that?

A living version of the casualties around you emerged from the underbrush wearing an adorable little coat and brandishing the tiniest spear ever, and when it was close enough to you it only came up to your waist. Its scruffy, soggy face made some kind of muffled roar noise while it pointed the stone spearhead at you, but it only made the damn thing look more cute instead of intimidating, and you lowered your blades back to their sheaths to address the beastie. Several more of the delightfully stubby creatures materialized from the sleeting shadows, and as cuddly-looking as they were, you felt sweat break out under your mask with the realization that they had you surrounded.

You heard something behind you, a rattling and thumping that got your attention, and you turned to see Mando doing something with his hands. Sign language? Your BSL was rusty, but you were able to pick up a few words including ‘hunters’ and ‘danger’. The toddler-sized teddy bear threw its furry arms around quickly, throwing water everywhere in its response. ‘Bad men’, ‘friends’, ‘stolen’. Stolen? You glanced over at the ruins of the campsite again, and between the waterlogged bodies you caught the glint of chains sinking in the mud, putting the puzzle together in your mind. Your bounty puck didn’t specify what your target was smuggling, but by the urgent sounds of the ursine creature, you guessed that they had been smuggling live animals, and whatever had decimated the camp had taken their ill-begotten quarries along with them.

Mando signed at you, but you only shrugged at his flurried hands. He went slower, and you picked the word ‘help’ out of all of his gestures. You nodded, and he signed back at the bears with the same phrase. The mysterious collection of soggy beasts melded back into the darkness of the forest; disappearing from view and leaving you with your packmate. Alone again, you pointed at the machine tracks, signaling your intent to follow them to their source. Mando nodded, taking a moment to check on the foundling that hovered along at his side before joining you at the trail. Cycling your visor again, you looked for the strange bear people you had just met, but your sensors picked nothing up in the pouring rain, where’d they go?

Like a pair of mist-wraiths you stalked your prey, following the deep indents of the machine that had ruined the smaller trees and shrubs that it had passed through, leaving a fearsome wake of broken branches and fallen leaves. Torrential rain filled the indents like so many small pools, threatening to wash even the deepest set tracks away, and you hurried to follow them before they were lost to the muck.

You felt the tremors of lumbering, mechanized steps through the soles of your boots long before you heard the Walker, the thunder of heavy equipment eventually making its way over the sound of the storm. You ran side by side with your Mandalorian through the mud, gliding like ghosts as you zeroed in on the prize, only splitting up to flank the repurposed Walker and its entourage when the blink of the bounty fob went nearly solid. Target acquired.

Under the towering robotic biped, a collection of boarish looking poachers trudged along beneath the behemoth, dragging loaded cages behind them on hoverskiffs while they kept pace with the towering tank. Its crisp titanium white had been stained and striped over by years out in the weather, and its rusty joints creaked with every stride. You weren’t sure if you were pleased or pissed that the collection of raiders accompanying the hulking machination were very-much not Imps, but that begged the question: where the hell did they find that thing?

Even through the drenching rain you could see more of the bear people in the tiny cages, clinging to the bars of their confines; the sad sight making your heart drop and your blood boil. The collection of raiders would be the easy part, but the AT-ST could blast you to smithereens if it caught you in its sights, so it would need to be taken out first; or at least distracted. The best way to do that was from inside, and the only way in was through the eye sockets of the durasteel beast.

You kept pace with the poachers, slinking silently through the shadows while you formulated a plan. The rain had put a serious damper on your communication abilities, and you wished you had been able to talk with Din verbally before taking on such a challenge. A slew of poorly fabricated plans sped through your mind before something plinked off of your mask, like a pebble hitting a window, and you took your eyes off the rag-tag raiders to squint upwards into the pouring rain. Another nut hit you square on your armored nose, and you flipped your sensor settings until a gaggle of warm splotches appeared in the trees above you. There they are! Scurrying through the sprawling branches, the wildlings were traversing bridges and platforms built high in the trees, running over top of you with ease compared to your laboured muck trudging.

A rope ladder was thrown to you, and you clambered up the narrowly spaced rungs until you were high up on the platform with the wooly creatures, who signed furiously at you, making you shrug. Sorry, I don’t speak munchkin.The smugglers were getting away from you, and you sped along the rickety wooden parapets, pushing the bears aside to get closer. At this height you were above eye level with the Walker, and you scanned ahead along the platforms to where a bridge was going over the iron giant’s path. If you could get to the bridge before the Walker passed underneath, you would be able to get the jump on the monstrosity.

You flew to make your target, shaking water down with each step that blended right into the still-pouring rain and hid your approach. Down below across the muddy path you caught the glint of beskar between the dark foliage, a quick flash, but unmistakable. Through the wooded underbrush he ghosted like quicksilver, and though he was no stranger to you, you felt a sickening curdle run up your spine at the reminder of his ferocity. The armored bounty hunter was a living weapon, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in his natural element. These poor bastards don’t stand a chance. The blood in your veins burned like acid when you saw him draw his rifle, signaling the start of the attack. Visor contact was made between you and your oathsworn, nodding in succession: Three… two… go!

The Mandalorian sprang from the darkness like a phantom, torrents of water streaming off of his silver as he clocked the nearest man with the butt of his rifle. You flew into action high above the vengeful poltergeist, launching yourself off of the bridge and onto the slippery roof of the Walker. With the security detail distracted by vicious beskar below, you were able to swing into the eyehole of the Walker unchallenged, howling like a banshee while you drew your blades. The vibros sang their wicked song as you sliced with abandon, carving a bloody path through the interior of the leviathan. Vorpal blades went snicker-snack through the guts of your first target, then cried steel tears when you blocked a swinging vibro-axe, kicking your mud soaked boots at the shins of your assailant until they keeled over, revealing the soft spot of their neck to your iron bite.

Twang! Twang twang! Blaster shots ricocheted off your armored face, bouncing around the cabin as you pounced on the last man, knocking his blaster away with one singing blade and sinking into his chest with the other. Surrounded by your kills, you grabbed at the steering controls, veering the durasteel behemoth through the infantrymen still on the ground; cackling like a madwoman at the crunch under your metal feet. Below you, Mando dived to avoid your enormous steps, rolling away into the safety of the underbrush where he wouldn’t get crushed by your bloodthirsty dance. You bore down on the steering trigger, firing the main turret in a wild spray that did more damage to the surrounding woods than to the ants crawling at your feet.

The Walker responded poorly to you hauling on the controls, teetering around on its big chicken legs like a drunk until the hydraulic pinions became crossed and you were riding the thing to the ground; narrowly avoiding the prisoner skiff as you fell. You were thrown against the wall when the legged tank hit the mud, along with the bloodsoaked bodies of your victims, smothering you with their dead weight. The fallen assault vehicle tilted sideways as it slid face first into a waterlogged ditch, and the cabin began to fill with swampy, silt-laden water. Kicking and thrashing at the corpses, you struggled to get free as water and muck began to seep into the cabin, threatening to drown you in a grave filled with your own kills.

Outside in the storm, the remaining poachers met a quick death between Mando’s armored fists and the end of his blaster, soaking the already oversaturated soil with their blood. The beskar fiend claimed the last of the smuggler’s souls before he bound over to the fallen Walker that had you trapped inside, and the thud thud thud of his boots kicking at the stubborn hatch bar resonated in the cabin until he loosened it enough to turn the release wheel. Rain drenched your face as the door opened high above your head, just out of reach of the yellow gloves that were grasping for you. You tried to jump, to climb up the overturned floor to get closer, even launching off of the pile of corpses didn’t put you close enough for your companion’s reach. If you waited long enough, you might be able to swim to the door, if the mud didn’t suck you under first.

-fwip!- SNAP! The familiar grapple shot out from his vambrace and tangled around your outstretched arm, hauling you up painfully by your wrist until you were close enough for him to grab, and you let him scoop you out of the sinking tank and into the heavy rain. You both slipped down the wet durasteel and over the twisted legs of the beast until you were up on the muddy path, slogging through the dredged up sediment as best you could until you were at the loaded hoversled. Aboard, the frantic bear creatures whooped and hollered, looking like a pack of excited mops with their rain soaked fur.

Your vibroblades screeched against the bars of the cage, making your ears ring, and you stuffed the singing daggers back to your belt. Drawing your blaster, you waved the little creature away from the cage door, shooting at the lock until it blew apart. Behind you, Mando did the same, signing at the sentient animal to cover their face before he blasted the confines apart. All the captives were freed in short order, and you helped them down into the mud one at a time. They scuttled away from you into the open arms of their tribemates that were waiting for them beneath the trees.

Soft, soggy bear paws patted your knees when you reached the welcoming party, and you guessed that was their way of saying ‘thank you’. At your side, your armored companion was signing quickly at the first bear you had met, who signed rapidly back at him between garbled roars. Through your rainstreaked visor you saw him beckon to you, and you cupped your hands around your ears in an attempt to hear him yelling through the unrelenting downpour.

“Go...camp...shelter!?” You nodded enthusiastically at the few words you caught, the idea of getting out of the ice cold rain was enough for you to agree to, and you ran back over to the battlefield to where you had squashed the poachers beneath the boots of the iron giant. There was no way you would get the ruined corpses into carbonite, so you would have to consign yourself to bringing back a trophy in lieu of bodies to collect your credits with. With a fury you carved away at a busted skull until you were able to pull one of the boarish tusks; hoping that it would have enough of a biosig to register on a code reader. When you rose back up from your butchery, you caught the black hole glare of the Mandalorian’s visor, watching you intently over the heads of the wildings that surrounded him. The two of you must make such a sight, you thought to yourself, an armored ghost and a bloodsoaked banshee.

You sauntered through the mud up to your man, letting the rain that fell wash the gore off your gloves. He pulled the fob from his belt, the light flashing rapidly when he touched it to the bloody tusk until it went solid, indicating a successful chain code link. That’ll work! You could tell by the tilt of his helmet that he had watched you take your trophy, and knowing how much he loved your ferocity you guessed he was flashing you those sharp canines of his behind the beskar. Taking a clean blade from your belt, you dragged the tip of the knife up the plate of his chest until you were tapping it against the edge of his helmet, a gentle reminder that you didn’t fuck around. The show of prowess had him grabbing at your waist, groping at your waterlogged sides til you were pressing your body against his frigid armor.

The pat pat pat of paws on your leg again startled you back to reality, and you cocked your head down at the wildlings that were trying to get you to follow them back to camp. Your riduur pulled away from you to fuss with his buttons, summoning the cloaked jellyfish to float out from behind the trees, and you dashed over to check on the state of your foundling. Inside the hoverpram he sat like a little sultan, still warm and dry, though he was covering his ears to try and save himself from the roar of the rain. Poor little guy! That’s gotta be so loud in there! He squeeked as though he could read your mind, tugging on his sail-like ears with the saddest face you’d ever seen.

The bear people guided your party through the inky woods, seemingly uninhibited by the slithering roots underfoot as they bound through the dark. Something thundered over the sound of the storm, a low, continuous rumble that got louder as you followed the warm splotches in your thermal sights. You soon came to a furiously raging river, its banks swollen almost to the breaking point with the floodwaters, and the white-capped rapids nipped at the underside of a narrow bridge that ran over top. The short, woolly bipeds scuttled over the swaying bridge, and you waited for the lightweight creatures to cross the sprawling length before you took your first step.

The soaked boards squeaked underfoot with a threatening creak, making adrenaline surge coldly through your veins at the prospect of being lost to the raging waters below. You could tell that Mando had drawn the same conclusion, and ushered you ahead of him, the foundlings crib floating to your side. You grabbed at the baby buggy, opting to push the floating pram ahead of yourself, determined to make sure the foundling made it to the other side even if you didn’t.

You hopped back and forth, trying to sow some courage into your legs without thinking about the raging waters you were about to challenge, locking eyes with the wildings far across from you so you wouldn’t look down. Don’t look down, whatever you do, don’t look down. You took a deep breath, letting your lungs fill with the icy spray of the galewinds before legging it at full speed over the swinging bridge.

Only when the sound of mud squelched underfoot did you stop, throwing your arms up in a silent victory cheer at your success. Far behind you the faint grey smear of your husband barely contrasted around the grey smears falling from the sky, but the glint of his visor reflected back at you as he started over the bridge. Even over the churning waves you heard the creaking of the boards with his heavily armored steps, and you willed him to hurry up in your mind. The black hole slowly got closer, inching its way to you, then the -crack! of wood breaking and the glint of his helmet falling below eye level made your guts turn over with fear.

Fuck! He’s broken through! You tore back over the soggy bridge, deaf to the protesting whines of the wet suspensions until you were to him. He was stuck to his chest, the wide ridge of his breastplate having caught on the wood that still supported him while he clawed at the slippery boards. You dove to hook your arms under his shoulders, digging your heels into the flimsy planks in an attempt to lift him from the splintered hole. He latched onto you, trying his best to help with your efforts until you got him up high enough that he was able to get a knee out of the breach, and promptly broke the board under your combined weight, dropping you both into the cascades below.

Everything went dark as the river swallowed you alive, and the cold of the icy depths made your flesh burn, but not as much as your lungs were burning as you fought for air. You broke the surface, only to be pulled right back down into the inky blackness of the raging river that was carrying you away. Something coiled around your waist, and in your drowning panic you flailed and punched at what you imagined was a serpent, but the muffled clang of ironsong rang wet and ugly in your flooded half-bucket.

Din! The weight of his armor was pulling him down, and though he was probably at a higher risk of drowning than you were, he was still trying to keep you above the water while he thrashed beside you. Locked together, you spiraled through the swells, the pair of you being thrown through the darkness of the raging river like toy boats in a hurricane, the ravenous waves promising to drown you if you weren’t dashed to pieces by the rapids themselves.

Sunk below the waves you heard the hiss of the imaginary snake in your ear, and you were jerked against the flow of the tide by something halting your course downstream. Something wrapped around your waist, tight and constricting and threatening to slice you in half like a wire as it coiled under your ribs. You couldn’t see anything out of your visor, and you squinted through the rain streaked glass and crashing waves at the silvery line going up from below the swells into the branches overhead.

Sputtering and gasping for air, you clawed at the line, wrapping your arms around the armored body that was still under the waves. You coiled around your partner, desperate to keep Din’s body against yours while you waited for the line to pull you to safety, thrashing against the waves like a fish on a hook. The rapids smashed into you again and again until you groped blindly for the winching mechanism on Din’s arm; wondering why he hadn’t hoisted you out of the water yet. His grip on your waist was starting to loosen, held to you only by the grapple’s snare, and you smashed at the button panel of his wrist until the line went taut and you were both pulled against the raging tides toward the branches overhead.

Hanging over the roaring waters by the line tangled around your body, you could see the brown smear where the river bank should be. Tightening your guts, you started to swing the pair of you over the water like an oversized pendulum until you were launched at the muddy shores, crashing unceremoniously into the muck. Nearly coughing up a lung, you gasped for air on the sodden ground, shaking the water from yourself in a futile act of defiance against the raging storm. Beside you, the dark form of your partner was motionless, and you rolled him over until he was face up. Water drained slowly from the underside of his flooded helmet, and your blood ran cold with the realization that there was nowhere else for it to go except into his lungs.

“Fucking bucket!” You screamed against the raging gale, grabbing at your waterlogged cloak to throw over the two of you, trying to protect not only his body but also his creed as you dug your fingers under the edge of the armor. You hunted for the latches that kept the damn thing locked to his face until you were able to yank the fucker off; sending a flood of entirely-too-much water gushing out over your hands. It was dark as the void underneath the impromptu cover, and you flipped through your visor options around til you got to thermal, and choked at the cold violet hue of your husband’s face.

“Oh no you fucking don’t!” Rising to your knees, you locked your palms together and pumped against where his sternum was hidden by his cuirass. “Get… back… here… you… fuckin… ass… hole!” You roared between chest compressions, only stopping your fervent tempo to toss your mask off and pinch his nose closed; tilting his head back to breathe what you hoped was life-giving air into his mouth. “Don’t… make… me… come… in… there… after… you!” You breathed into him again, fighting the urge to break down from the terror of losing him. “You’ve… gotta… take… care… of… me!” Still you pumped, the salt of tears on your lips as you pressed your mouth to his frigid face. “Take… care… of… our… FOUNDLING!”

“HuuahAHCH!! ACH! *cough! coUGH COUGH!*” Brackish water spewed violently from his mouth between broken gasps for air, his arms flailing until his hands tangled in the soaked fabric of your clothes. He sputtered in your arms, desperate to fill his lungs with oxygen while you rolled him over on his side, letting the water flow out of him more freely.

“Din! Oh fuck thank the motherfucking Maker! You’re alright! Just breathe! Breathe!” Cradling his head in your frozen fingers, you tried to soothe him by brushing the water from his hair, but maybe it was to comfort yourself even more. He heaved in your hands, coughing up lungfuls of water until he could start putting words together.

“Cy- *cough!* Cyare?” You nodded, but in the dark of the cloak he probably couldn’t see you, so you bent to kiss his chilled face, hoping that you could usher some warmth into his veins.

“I’m here! I’m here, my love, It’s ok. You’re ok!”

“I’m...I’m so- *cough!* I’m so sorry…”

“You should be, you bigass fuckin’ rustbucket.” You were unable to refrain from giving him hell, trying to use your venomous tongue to hide the tears that choked your words and threatened to leave you weeping at his side. “You swore an oath to me, mister, and you think that going for a little swim is going to get you out of it? I don’t think so.” His heavy head rested on your knee, and you could feel tremors coursing through his body in quick bursts. You rocked with him between your hands, pressing more kisses to his damp face and stroking his wet curls. “You’re stuck with me, bucket boy, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“F-foundling? Where?”

Shit, good question. The last you had seen the child’s pram was when you’d booked it over the rickety bridge, and you had left it with the other alien toddlers before rushing to save your man. “I can only handle one of you boys at a time, we’ll find him as soon as I know you’re good.” The hands that were clinging to you started to push against your chest, and you grabbed him before he could haul himself up. “Oh no you don’t. Not til I say so, damnit!”

“Gotta… g-gotta get...get the child.” He squirmed weakly against you, a far cry from the muscle and sinew you knew he was made out of. “Our...our baby...”

“He’s probably fine, those bear thingies are probably running for their lives from that little terror, he can handle himself. Believe me, I know.” Din had gotten one arm under himself and was trying to prop himself up, and you wrapped your arms around him to guide him into a seated position, letting him lean heavily against you. “Take it slow. We’ll go get him soon enough, but I gotta make sure you’re good first, alright?” You felt the cloak blanket wiggle with his nod, and you kissed his face in the dark to thank him for following your wishes.

Over the sound of the pelting rain you caught the slosh of many quick footsteps, followed by chittering and growling noises, and you grabbed at your belt for a dagger to defend yourself with; but Din pushed at your hands until you lowered the humming blade. With strengthless arms he pulled his helmet back over his head, allowing you to lift the shelter’s edge high enough to see the big, curious eyes of one of the bear people staring at you. More appeared behind the first, and many damp paws were reaching into your space, trying to help the two of you up out of the mud.

You breathed a mighty sigh of relief when a gaggle of them came into view, tugging the floating pram with them. The foundling had managed to push the edge of the oilskin back over the top of his crib, and though he was now sitting in his own private swimming pool, he looked overjoyed to be back with his buir. Since he was already drenched, you lifted him from the bucket and into both your arms, and the tiny beastie chirped away between you.

“Booger! You’re alright! See, Mando? Told ya so.” Your husband only groaned, pushing his helmet against your unarmored forehead as best he could. You let the foundling out of your arms and into Din’s just long enough so that you could reach down and pull your own beskar out of the muck, giving it a couple of good shakes before setting the dirty thing back on your face. The grit of the riverbank soil felt horrible on your skin, but like hell you were going near that raging torrent to clean it off. With all three of you soaked to the core and covered in mud, you pressed your shoulder up underneath Din’s arm, demanding that he lean his weight on you while you followed the munchkins back to their camp.

Through the howling rain you heard a new sound, a low, deep blare like a klaxon, but the notes changed in between pitches; and you realized what you were hearing was some kind of music. Firelight peeked out from under the edge of a structure that was in no way naturally formed, the darkness of rusted durasteel absorbing any light that tried to illuminate the surrounding dark. When you got closer you felt your chest clench at the sight: it wasn’t a building, it was a ship, left abandoned to sink into the muck in one of the few clearings between the trees. The star cruiser was now awash with tangled overgrowth, saplings and ferns growing around it as it was slowly being claimed by the forest of Endor.

The bear people led you into the wreckage, and you breathed a mighty sigh of relief when you were finally out of the rain. Handmade structures littered the interior, built from wood and pelts that were cobbled together into a miniature city inhabited by the cutest creatures the galaxy had to offer; next to your foundling, of course.

In the center of a ruined mess hall, a massive bonfire had been lit, and the wildlings were spinning and cheering around the pyre to the sound of bone horns; celebrating the return of their captured kin. The folkish music echoed joyously in the open space until it was reverberating in your very core, shaking the icicles from your bones. The rescued creatures ran circles around you, splashing you with their wet fur as they cheered your party on. If you had the energy, you would have laughed at the even tinier wildling cubs that scurried to you, how could these things get any cuter? You set the foundling down, ushering him to go make friends while you dealt with your meat popsicle.

When you were close enough to the roaring flame, you dropped the two of you onto the loam covered floor, falling on your waterlogged backsides beside the blessed heat. Your stuffed sinuses finally drained, and you could smell something wonderful cooking nearby. You waved at the attending munchkins that had brought you here, rubbing your belly in an attempt to communicate your wishes. Thankfully, they understood your bogus sign language, and a bowl of steaming hot something-or-other was pushed into your outstretched hands. The spicy broth cooked you from the inside out, and you felt your cheeks go rosey at the delightful burn that trickled down your throat. After taking another generous chug of the delicious soup, you turned to Din, trying to push the bowl into his feeble hands; but their tremors threatened to spill it on himself instead of into his mouth.

“Tilt your helmet back.”

“I’m fine.”

“This is not up for debate, tilt your fucking helmet back or I’ll do it for you.” You rolled onto your knees until you were nearly on top of him, blocking any eyes that might catch a glimpse of the secrets that only your clan was privileged to. His hands fumbled at the side of his beskar, and you took it upon yourself to lift it for him, carefully tilting the drink to his lips. He coughed at the peppery tang of it, and you waited patiently until he nodded for more, holding on to the undersides of your hands with his own. When he drank what you determined was his fill, you set the steaming mug at your side and let the armor fall back into place. His iron body was still shaking, the heat of the fireside not strong enough to penetrate his many layers. “Sweetheart, your armor’s gonna have to come off, you gotta get warm.”

“No.”

“No? If I don’t get you out of there you’re going to get sick, is that what you want? To get sick?”

He sighed, letting his heavy bucket fall forward. “No...”

“Good.” You began the arduous labour of stripping him down, shooing away the wildlings that kept trying to help with their soggy bear paws. Diligently you peeled the layers off, disheartened at the water that gushed out from each lifted plate, fuck, no wonder he was so heavy. Beskar at your side, you started on the flack jacket, making sure that it was kept the closest of all his gear with its precious secrets. “Arms up.” Suspenders fell at his side, and you pulled the sopping wet undershirt off of him, tossing it aside with a splat and leaving him sitting in his trousers. His skin was clammy and damp, cold as ice under your fingers that sent fresh chills to your spine. All you had to offer was one of the tarps that were in your bag as coverage, and you threw the crinkly thing over him and crawled underneath to start working off your own soaked layers next to your oathsworn.

Getting your clothing off was almost more difficult than getting Din’s peeled away, the drenched fabric making it nearly impossible to lift your tired arms. Tangled in the heavy garb, you struggled to pull yourself free when you felt chilly fingers digging in after you, the zesty broth having worked some strength back into the mighty warrior's muscles. You smiled at his glossy visor when you were out of your tunic, wishing you could see his lovely eyes instead, but you were happy enough that he was moving again. You kissed at his armored face, then started to collect the scattered clothing to find somewhere to hang them up to dry. The wildlings gawked at you, but you guessed that they were more concerned with your change in appearance than your actual partial nudity.

With your gear drying by the fire, you sat back down next to where your man was sipping at the mug on his own, and you squished yourself up against his side, trying to foster some body heat between you. He rumbled at your touch, knocking you almost too hard against the side of your unarmored noggin with his helmet. With the tarp wrapped around the two of you like a blanket, you watched the fuzzy creatures that tropsed past you, giggling at their antics. A couple of the bear people came up to you with baskets of fruit in their paws, pushing them toward you with more trilling growls that you could almost imagine as words.

You tapped your fingers to the bottom of your chin, then gestured outwards without turning your palm, signing ‘thank you’ to your furry hosts. They chittered at you before going to fetch more baskets of goodies for you to take until you were surrounded by stacks of produce that you would never be able to finish; and you guessed that something had been lost in translation. Laughing, you tried to get them to take some of it back, but they growled at you and bared their teeth, so you sat like a pair of forest deities as the pile of offerings stacked around you grew higher.

Eventually one of them carried the foundling back to you, the stout creature struggling to hold your tubby buddy, followed by a parade of bear cubs that almost had you in fits. “Heya booger, did you make some friends?” He squeaked and wiggled in the wildlings arms until it let him go, and he tottered toward you on his stubby legs, tripping over the many baskets until you had him in your lap. “There’s my guy. Look, papa’s here too.”

Battle-scarred arms took the child from you, coiling around the alien baby like a living castle, rocking him softly side to side while he rubbed his child’s ears. The heartwarming moment was somewhat interrupted by a snub nosed cub trying to crawl into your lap, looking up at you expectantly with their wondrous eyes and making grabby paws at you for uppies. You tutted at the creature, “If y’all don’t stop being so cute, we’re going to end up adopting you as well.” Two more clambered onto you, sitting on your knees while they started digging through the many baskets at your sides, and you were more than happy to share with them. Sneaking one of the baskets up over their furry heads, you nudged at Din’s side, trying to offer some to him and his son. He turned the foundling around, and the little devil gleefully dug into the harvest, stuffing his itty bitty mouth full.

“Mando? You want some?” He shook his head, though he should have learned by now you weren’t actually asking. “You gotta eat, get your strength back.” After some silence, he nodded, and started to dig through the bucket of fruit. Between trying to pick out the berries, holding the foundling, and lifting his helmet up to eat, he was nearly dumping everything all at once, and you swatted at his fumbling hands. “Fucksake, let me help you.” Grabbing a handful, you picked a small berry out and pushed it up under the edge of his helmet; knowing that there was just enough space between the metal and the man for a finger or two.

He flinched at the intrusion, but you felt the fruit pass over his covered lips and away, and you waited for him to swallow it before fishing for another. You gently guided another berry up into the cold dark of his armor, brushing past his scruffy chin as you withdrew. "More?" You asked, and he nodded softly. You plucked another treat from the basket, but when you pressed the sweet up to his hidden mouth you jumped at the feel of his tongue flickering over your fingertips, the smooth muscle sending tendrils of heat up your arms. You cocked him a sideways glare, and the tilt of his visor flashed with the reflection of the fire.

"Can I have another, please?" His voice was groggy with the dampness still settled in his lungs, but the gentleness of his request was too sweet to deny. You went for a juicier fruit this time, and again he lapped at your fingers, a soft hum breezing out of his modulator as he cleaned the nectar from your hand. Once more you fed him, doing your damnedest to keep a straight face when he sucked your digits into his hot mouth, nipping at your tips just enough to make your insides clench around nothing. Stars above.

"Thank you, mesh'la." He purred when he released you, and you tried to distract yourself by wiping the berry juice from the foundling's face, ignoring the heat pooling in your belly that wasn't from the soup. The baby cooed at you from his father’s knee, then pointed at the cubs that were still clustered around you, gibbering excitedly. Din lifted the baby up in front of himself so that the child would be at eye level with his visor. “What’s that, womp rat? You- *cough!* You want to go see your friends? Alright, but mind your manners.” He set the baby down so that he could scurry away, and the collection of tiny wildlings went galumphing after him. With just the two of you under the tarp now, you watched as your half-naked companion reached for another one of the baskets, this one loaded full of bright purple plums. “Would you like one, cyare?”

He selected one with a soft, colorful rind, holding it up for you to taste, and you leaned forward to accept his offering. The succulent treat was pushed to your lips, and you sank your teeth into its flesh, trying, and failing, to keep the juice from running down your chin. The tilted visor watched you with its fiery gaze, and you imagined his soulful eyes tracking the droplets on your face. The pad of his thumb caressed at your mouth, and you let him push the stray juice to your lips, licking at him playfully. Again he brought the fruit up for you to take another bite, and you sucked at the pinkish flesh almost too noisily to be anything other than flirtatious. Din held the plum to you for as long as it took for you to finish it, careful not to let you swallow the stone at its center. When the fruit was finished, he tossed the pit aside and ran his thumbs over your lips with a gentle touch.

“I want another one.” You said, kissing at his hands, and immediately another plum materialized in front of you. You bit into the fruit, not even bothering to stop the juice that ran down your face and onto your bare breasts, amazed that you were so brazenly flirting with each other in the dead center of the wildling community; but the creatures paid you no mind, busy with their own grooming and eating to care about the strange human activities. Din pulled the plum away from you before you could finish eating it, instead opting to tear off a small chunk. You held your mouth open, sticking your tongue out for him to place the fruit on, but the treat wasn’t the only thing that made its way past your lips. The pad of his thumb brushed over the edges of your teeth while you balanced the piece in your mouth, cupping your chin with his fingers so he could circle your lips. You swallowed the fruit, lapping at his thumb while you sucked it down, and the low rumble he made was heavenly. “Do you wanna try one?”

“I don’t think that will fit under my helmet, cyare.”

“Well then,” You ran your hands over his arms until you were dragging your fingers down his chest, relieved to feel that his skin was warm to the touch. Phew. “Why don’t we go somewhere that you can take that thing off, hmm?” He glanced around the sprawling room, and though there were plenty of wildling homes, none of them would be big enough for a human, let alone two. Noticing the way he scoped the area, you rose to your feet, pulling the edge of the tarp closer around his shoulders. “You stay here, I’ll go find us somewhere private, ok?” He nodded, catching your hand before you got too far away and pulling your knuckles to tap against his brow. I love you, too.

You pulled a stick from the blaze to light your way, leaving your visor by the fire to dry, and delved into the darker reaches of the fallen craft. Starships were once your home, long before the Razor Crest there were the Corellian-built cruisers that you had grown up on, and this one was no different. Though its walls were creeping with vines and its power source had long died out, the layout was familiar enough for you to make your way through the ruined hold. Skirting around the many ursine dwellings, you walked down a long corridor, poking your head through the half-open doors.

Med bay, galley, Walker bay -oh- officers quarters, captains quarters…

Towards the bow of the ship was a closed door, and you knew from your history that this had to be the bridge. The other rooms had been messed pretty badly by the bear people, but it looked to you like they hadn’t been able to get through the blast shielding of the flight deck. You set your torch upright and got to work on the panel in the corner, even without power you could get the bulkhead open if you could pop the locking mechanism manually.

When you were just a scamp, freshly plucked from Corellia's sickly shores, you had tried to make yourself useful by getting into small spaces; though more often than not it just got you into trouble. Bilgerat they had called you, a common nickname for stowaways. Vent and duct work was where you’d cut your teeth, but as you grew and your fingers became more agile you were given tasks around the rest of the ship, gruntwork to keep a teenager busy; but those small odds and ends made you a jack of all trades and an asset to any crew. It wasn’t until your wagging tongue and listless singing caught the ears of your superiors were you given a real job. A title. A name.

Taking a blade from your belt, you carefully unscrewed the durasteel cover and started picking away at the gunk that had built up over time. You could hear the chief of engineering nagging at you in the back of your head, ‘Ya can’t shout a door open, no matter ‘ow much ya point that vile tongue a’yers at it, ya gots’ta use somethin’ sharp.’ Let’s see… move this here, get my blade right under… there! The CLANG of the safety lock echoed ominously down the empty hallway, and you held your breath as you waited for the curious beasties to come investigate.

No soft footsteps echoed back to you, so you started prying the door open, fighting against the overgrowth until you had a hole big enough to slip through. Holding the fading firelight aloft, you checked your surroundings,and were pleasantly surprised at the state of the wide, triangular space. The years had been kinder to it than the rest of the ship, and though it was cluttered with dried leaves it could still almost be considered clean. You held the firelight aloft as you padded carefully through the once-proud space, the sound your footsteps silent against the roar of the storm.

Above you the rain pelted against a sloping transparisteel window, though you could hear the weather raging away more than you could actually see it. Something besides the cold air gave you chills, and you squinted into the dark, almost chucking your torch when you caught the glint of white armor. Still seated in the captain's chair was the captain himself, and though his withered husk was no longer a threat, you still fished a blade from your thigh holsters before you got closer. The tarnished white of his duraplast and the flash of his lipless grin made your flesh crawl, and the urge to light him up like a papery firework became almost overwhelming.

The day had been soaked more thoroughly with death than it had been from rain, but the decaying corpse made you more uneasy than every kill you had made out in the storm. Inching closer, you caught the glint of steel in his teeth, the remnants of a shock capsule still wedged between his molars. You coward, you took the easy way out, didn’t you? How could you expect anything less from the Empire, lily-livered skinks, the lot of them. Enough of you! I’m the captain now! You lifted the human piñata out of his grave, marching to the trash chute and dumping the husk down into the dark. Bye bye, fucko.

Alone, truly alone now without the grinning skull of the forgotten captain, you paced the room, checking for more surprises. Dust had settled on almost every surface between the vines that creeped their way over the many consoles and monitors where once entire platoons of engineers and navigators had guided the mighty ship through the stars. As dark as it was, you closed your eyes, imagining the hustle and bustle of crews long past, the bark of captain's orders and the salty rebuke of their officers echoing in your memories. Your legs moved on without you, eyes open or closed mattered not as you wandered through the bridge on muscle memory until you were at the communication officers post.

How long has it been, you wondered, since you had sat in that chair? A decade? Maybe more? The chair in question was garbage, but the microphone was still jutting out of the dashboard, and you brushed your fingers against the indents of the receiver. If only there was power in this old girl, you could really make those wildings think you were a god.

It was only by sheer arrogance that you had been given that chair, your ability to snake your tongue into the mind of any who opposed you was unparalleled. You weren’t qualified by any stretch of the word, but your superior officers had become ensorcelled by your siren songs, and you had been seated at the microphone to relay the bridge’s orders to the other units by day and unleash your starborn melodies by night. Though your captain’s word was law, your voice was what brought your crew solace when they would rest their weary heads. You hummed to yourself in the dark, unable to resist the call of days long gone.

“In a tower of flame as my starship fell, I was there. I know not where they laid my bones, it could be anywhere. But when fire and smoke had faded, the darkness left my sight, And I found my soul in a spaceship's hold, riding home on a trail of light.”

Your starsong resonated high and mighty through the bridge, oh those acoustics! You loved the Iron Mistress that you’d been wed to on the arm of a Mandalorian, but the Crest’s cramped quarters couldn’t compare to the amphitheater that was a cruiser's bridge.

“And my wings are made of tungsten, my flesh of glass and steel. I am the pride of stars gone by for the power that I wield. Once upon a lifetime, I died a pioneer; Now I sing within a spaceship's heart. Does anybody hear?”

As if the sky itself heard your pleas, the storm roared and flashed wickedly outside the window, but lost in your reverie the thunderous boom sounded gunfire.

Repressed memories exploded to life behind your eyes, and clear as day you saw it all come rushing back: the swath of stars above a glowing world, the streaks of cannon shots blasting at your eyes, colliding with the star cruiser’s shielding in vicious cerulean ripples of St Elmo’s fire. Your ship wouldn’t last much longer under the assault, the order had to be given.

Fire.

Forecanons erupted to life, snuffing out the assailants like a reaper's scythe, carving a fiery path through the fray. The strength of the canons rocked your ship to its core, the thud thud thud of ionized plasma decimating the scrambled jets in your line of sight. Another hailing of shots peppered overhead, flickering across the transparisteel and drawing your attention to the radiant green halo that was coming to life on the surface of the mechanical moon your ship had been charged to escort. The corona of hellfire blazed and shot a beam of decimation into the world below.

And then it was gone.

Nothing but dust remained of the planet below, wafting away on the solar winds like the seeds of a dandelion. Around you your crewmates cheered, but all you had heard that day was the sound of screams.

You never set foot on a star cruiser again, and though you doubted the rebel alliance would take you in, the Guild asked no questions; and the next years of your life were spent hunting down the remnants of the Empire that had raised you.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?”

The modulated words behind you tore you violently from your recollections of despair, but you were thankful to be rescued from your tumultuous spiral. In the doorway that you had pried open stood the man you had chosen to walk the stars with, leaning against the sabotaged bulkhead. He had thrown his flack jacket over his shoulders, and under one arm was a basket full of fabric and beskar. A light on the side of his helmet shone like a sunbeam through the dark room, rivaling the torch you had since forgotten.

“Heya bucket boy, you feeling better?” You asked, happy to leave your nightmares behind on the rusted dashboard as you wandered back to him.

He nodded. “Thanks to you, mesh’la. I thought I heard your voice and I got worried. I’m glad to see you’re ok.”

“You’re glad I’m ok? You almost fucking died!” He stiffened at the reminder, shirking away from you.

“I’m so sorr-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, rustbucket.” You crossed the last few steps to him and grabbed his helmet by the recess of its cheeks, forcing him to dip his head to yours as you crashed your brow against his, maybe a little too hard for your unarmored skull; but you were determined to connect with him in the most sacred way he knew. The loaded basket under his arm hit the ground with a thwump when he dropped it, clutching at the sides of your jaw to hold you to him.

“Cyare… please, I want to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Shush, I don’t want your apology. I want you.” You met his visor, trying not to squint while you pawed at the highbeam on the side of his armor until it was out of your eyes. “I want you here with me, alive and well, and I got you now, so it’s all good, alright?”

The pads of his thumbs brushed lovingly at your cheeks as he pushed you gently away so that he could see you better. “No, it’s not alright. It’s not… I can’t…” Fuck, he was so bad at stringing words together in Basic. Mando’a was so much easier, so much less clunky. He could parse entire lines of poetry to you in the words of the ruined world he had left behind, compare your beauty to the light of the stars, your radiance to the glow of many moons. Mando’a could be so much deeper than Basic, too. He wasn’t lying when he’d told you cyare was like cyar'ika but with more meaning. It carried the weight of the galaxy with it, and the first time he had spoken it to you was when he had accepted your silent, albeit accidental proposal. Cyare means love, love like no other. A love worth dying for.

You couldn’t hear him over the galewinds that threatened to blow you into the river as you flew over the bridge to his rescue, but in that harrowing moment he had been telling you to go back, to leave him, let him go. He would sacrifice himself a hundred times over for you or for the foundling, but the thought of you dying for him made him as sick as it had when you had laid bleeding out on the cot aboard the Crest. That’s not how this is supposed to work, damnit! I’m supposed to be the one protecting her and the foundling. I’m supposed to be the one who risks their life. Gladly he would have laid down his life, as long as the last thing that he knew was of your safety, but then you had dashed to his side, and plunged into the icy depths along with him.

He was honorbound to you now, first in body and then in soul by the sacred oath of riddurok. You were the foremost thought in his mind as you were both swallowed by the raging swells, but as the weight of his armor dragged him under and his eyes began to darken when his flooded helmet tried to make its kill, he knew it was all over for him. He’d fired the grapple, making sure that his last act in the waking world would be to save you, even if it meant he would drown.

Swear to me to protect me with your life was the vow that he had sworn, and he was determined to keep it to the bitter end, as your own oath had entailed. You only knew a few words of his adopted tongue, and maybe in time that would change, but for today the universal language would have to do. He breathed deep, trying valiantly to cobble together what he wanted to say. “Putting you in danger is not something a good husband would do.”

He hoped that was enough to convey what he was feeling to you, but the way your brows cocked in that crooked way told him that his sentiment might have gotten a little lost.

“Ok… but getting you out of danger is something that a good wife would do.”

Oh.

He hadn’t expected that, just like he hadn’t expected to wake back up on that muddy shore with you tearing him a new asshole, but maybe that's exactly what he should have expected. You were more stubborn and headstrong than a wild blurg, and you would lock horns with death itself to protect the ones you loved.

And you loved him.

Your hands had drifted down to his chest, noticing the faint purplish bruise that had begun to creep its way over his sternum from your compressions. He winced when you brushed against it, though you guessed it was more from the reminder of your ordeal than from actual pain. “We’re in this together now, and if that means I have to break a rib or two to keep you kickin’, then so be it.”

He pulled the jacket off of his shoulders, digging through the breast pocket, the jingling, scraping sound making your heart sink at the memory of what he kept there. What if you had crushed them? The opalescent fossils were pulled into the light, as perfect and steadfast as they had been when you had pushed them onto his helmet and asked him to walk beside you for all your days. The flak was tossed to the basket on the floor while he turned the teeth over in his palm. “I guess these really are good luck.”

“Well obviously, that’s why I gave them to you.” You sassed the mighty warrior. Din pushed the jewels into their recesses with a cocky tilt of his visor, and you kissed at each of the radiant fangs, asking him with your lips for him to finally take that damn helmet off, regardless of how pretty it was now. “Is this private enough? I need to check your face for leeches.” He turned away from you to the bulkhead, sliding it closed before doing as you asked. The beskar was lifted away, taking the light source with it, and you took the helmet from him to use the spotlight for your inspection. “Fuck me sideways.”

“Well, I mean, if you insist.” His lopsided smile curled upwards under sunken eyes, and you almost dropped the light when you reached up to touch his pale skin, still cold and clammy from keeping the wet armor on for too long. You brushed his matted hair off of his brow, swearing that you could feel ice crystals against your fingertips. Fucksake, he looked like death.

“Shit balls of hell, Din, that fucking bucket is gonna be the death of you.” You turned and set the offending beskar down on a low table, pointing the light as best you could towards the pair of you and throwing shadows around the room. The shades that danced over his face gave him the same haunted look as the corpse you had chucked down the garbage chute, and you felt a nasty chill run through your spine at the memory of that lipless grin. Not on my watch.

Though your skin was still a little cool, it was leagues warmer than his, and you pulled him in for a world-erasing hug, letting him bury his nose in the crook of your shoulder. His body was warm enough, but the insulated armor had kept the heat of the fire from reaching his head, and you hoped the heat of your heart would be enough to thaw him. Whether it was or not didn’t seem to matter to him, and he sank against you, dragging his hands down your back until they were resting against the span of your hips. You kissed his frigid face, feeling the pricks at the corners of your eyes when you realized his skin was no warmer than it had been on the river’s shore.

You dug your fingers through his curls, trying to squeegee the water out until it was running down his spine. He groaned against you, and you felt him shiver at the cold drops against his warm back; under better circumstances you would have laughed at the goosebumps that prickeled his skin.

“Who were you talking to? I know I heard your voice earlier.” He whispered softly against your ear, punctuating his question with more soft kisses.

“Just singin’ to myself.” That wasn’t a lie, but maybe it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Can I hear it?”

You nodded sheepishly against the side of his head, taking a deep breath that pulled the off-kilter scent of him into your lungs. He smelled like the rain, though it was probably more river water than petrichor. That mixed with the smell of woodfire smoke on top of his persistent warrior musk brought the tranquility of the forest without the storm through your mind. Peaceful. Caught in the cold limelight of the helmets glare, you sang the starsong back to him, lower and slower than you had when you were by yourself for your solo audience. It was just above a whisper, only enough for him alone to hear. A full house was overrated anyway.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten a few lines in when you felt it, the gentle sway between the two of you, not quite dancing, but just as meaningful. You couldn’t dance, and you were willing to bet good credits that neither could he, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. It was just the two of you, arms wrapped around each other while you tried to warm him away from the grave, and him lovingly holding on tight. Din’s hands glided over your bare back and around your shoulders until they were sinking back down again to your waist, rocking you slowly with him back and forth to the ballad of the stars.

You sauntered through the chorus again, and this time another sound beside the tenor of your own voice met your ears. With his face still pressed to the side of yours, your husband was humming, not in the way he usually did like when he was trying to flirt. No, he was humming along, just a tad off key, but his rich, wavering baritone swelled underneath your own voice until it was carrying your words up to the riveted sky where they could contest with the roar of the rain.

And it was beautiful.

Nobody in your years had ever made you cry as much as this man did, and as the last words of your song floated away you wiped the corners of your eyes off on the scruff of his face, hoping that he wouldn’t catch the stars caught in your lashes. His honeydark pools missed nothing, and they fluttered shut as he kissed your tears away, but the feel of warm skin on yours brought more of them anyway.

“Please don’t cry, Starsong.” He soothed, slowly kissing over the ridges of your cheekbones until he was pressed to your lips. The sound of your new name made you smile against him. Stars above, how many names had you been given? Of all your titles, this one was your probably favorite, especially when it poured out from the mouth of the man you adored. You met his doe-like eyes with your own, watching the way they darted back and forth, still amazed that there was so much expression that was hidden by the beskar. He smiled back, a little bashfully, but nevertheless his sweet face sent warmth to the depths of your heart.

Unwilling to resist him any longer, you crashed your lips against him, hearing him inhale sharply at your bravado. He still tasted like the fruit you had given him, sweet and succulent as a summer day, the flavor of him vaporizing the sound of storms, both inside and out. Your lips fit so perfectly against his, as if they had been made for each other, and you hummed into him when you felt the faintest touch of his tongue. Deepening your kisses, you went after the smooth muscle with your own, making him groan and dig his hands into your sides.

Maker save him, he just can’t help himself with you, and the tender moment between you is engulfed in fire as he licks deeper into your mouth, rumbling at the whine you make. The whiskers on his face tickle at the side of your nose, almost making you sneeze when he tilts his head to chase the taste of you further. Sharp teeth catch on your lower lip when he bites at the edge of your mouth, the snag of his canines are soft, but demanding, and you gladly throw him off his attack when you bite him back. He pulls away from you to growl in your ear, but the effect is immediately lost when your chest tears away from his with a -shtiiiiiick-.

The fruit juice. You’d thrown your modesty right out the window many moons ago, and had completely ignored the fact that your tunic had been left drying by the fire when you went to go find a space to let Din free himself of his armor without tarnishing his creed. The plum juice from your devious game at the fireside had long since dried, but mixed with the sweat of your bodies it had become sticky again, and your unarmored companion only cocked his head at the strange sensation for a moment before he was diving for the nectar on your chest.

“Riduur’iiikaaa~” He crooned against your flesh, dragging his tongue over the swell of your breasts and up the length of your neck until he was nipping at your jaw. “You taste delicious.” You could only giggle at the flip-flopping desires of your man, letting yourself get caught up in the affections of the mighty warrior that loved you so. His lips curled upwards in a wicked grin against your skin at the sound of your laughter, and your mirth was gracelessly snuffed when he sucked at the tender side of your neck, leaving a trail of blooming marks down the side of your throat. Mine.

You laced your fingers in his damp hair as he made his way over your collarbone and back down to lap at the ambrosia coating the flesh that bounced so sweetly between his palms. He took a hardened tip between his lips, sucking the tender bud into his hot wet mouth, and though he was already sending you spinning, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of pride that you had cast all the ice from his veins. The residual worry floated back out from the edges of your mind, and you kissed the top of his head to get his attention, if only briefly.

“Are you feeling ok though? Is it warm enough here for you? You’ve already been through enough shit today and the last thing we need is for you to get sick.” The half-lidded gaze that hauled itself up to meet your eyes made you feel like a lust-drunk fool. Stupid question.

“My wife, my love.” Stars above, the way he just let those words flow so readily made the heat in your chest surge all the way to the fingertips that he held so lightly between his own. He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss at the backs of your knuckles in that slow, deliberate pattern that sent electric shocks through your spine until it couldn’t stand you up straight anymore. The Mandalorian pulled you to him with another round of fervent kisses before leaning away from you, flashing you a devilish grin. “I know exactly where I can get myself warmed up.”

Hot damn. “Oh yeah? Where’s that?” He chuckled darkly at your feigned ignorance, as if you didn’t know.

“Between your legs, cyar’ika” The last of your moxie dissolved like mist against a wildfire, but you knew he liked it when you made it a challenge, and you faked your best bemused face at him while he spooled himself around you.

“Hmm… I dunno… There’s probably fish swimming around in my chonies after being in the rain for so long.” You snickered, but the look you got from him was decimating. “What? Can’t take a joke?”

“Your pussy belongs to me, there better not be any damn fish in that sweet cunt of yours.”

“Din!!” The audacity of this man! His rumbling laugh sent blazes over your skin, and your mouth was swallowed by his again to distract you from his wandering hands. Your startled cry disappeared down his throat when he plunged his hand down the front of your pants,hunting for the offending sea life that vexed you so. Calloused fingertips searched blindly through your folds, and you sank your nails into his shoulders while he pushed the devious digits through your slick heat.

“Hm, no fish here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright.” You floundered against his chest as he sank a finger into your dripping cunt, quickly followed by a second all the way to his knuckles. He had you squirming around his strong hands, but you became determined not to lose a game he didn’t know you were playing, and you stuffed your own mitt down the front of his sodden trousers to grope at his cock.

“Found one.”

“It’s cold.”

“-Snrk-” You snorted an ugly laugh at him, but he ignored you and speared his fingers into you harder, pumping against your insides until your body was quaking in time with his thrusts. Not to be outdone, you palmed at his cool member, dragging nimble fingers along his shaft until you were cupping his balls. A choked, needy whine broke its way out past his teeth, and you gleefully watched his resolve break down across his handsome face. The pace of his pulsing hand fell out of time, the slick digits worming their way out to tease at your clit. His dark eyes flashed with shameless lust at your mewls, no doubt enjoying the same show of dissolution that you were.

“Why don’t you pop a squat and let me take care of you, eh tinman?” You moaned breathy in his ear, biting at his lobe and making him sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder while he tried not to crumble from your assault. Another gentle tug on his cock had him twitching at the waist and leaning heavily against you while you stoked his fire.

“Haven’t… haven’t you t-taken care of me enough f-for one day?” His voice was haggard and broken, wavering over the fine line between spoken words and feral growls that burned against your skin.

“Never.” You yanked your hips away from him, pulling him free of your sweet spot so you could drag him by his groin over to the captain's chair. Reluctantly you released him just long enough to push him into the seat, forcing him back until he was nice and reclined for you to unzip his pants and free him from the confines of the duraweave. The force of your excavating sprang the flushed member out so quickly that it bounced against his belly, leaving a glistening string of precum that made your mouth water.

Fucking stars he looked so beautiful like this, the color had come back to his blissed-out face, making his cheeks look all rosey under sex-craved eyes. You knocked his armored thighs apart with your knees to tower over him, and the spectacle of those chocolate depths going wide turned your lips upwards in a devious sneer.

“M-mesh’la, really, I s-should be t-taking care of… of you...” So thoughtful of him to offer, but you were dead set on lighting his insides ablaze .

“Nah, you might be in the chair, but I’m the captain’a this ship.” You recklessly threw a leg over his thigh to straddle him with your still-clothed crotch and took a generous fistful of his shaft between your hands that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Dragging your thumb over his weeping head, you circled the blunt tip, smearing the slick down and around the length of him and making him shiver. When he’d been lubed to your liking, you wrapped your hands around him and languidly jerked him off just to watch him fall apart.

The eyes that you had earned the right to see rolled and fluttered under his long lashes, squeezing shut whenever you tightened your grip as though you had a joystick in your hands and not his swollen flesh. You wondered then if you would have the same effect on his steering as you did on the Walker’s, chuckling to yourself at the thought of riding him to the ground. With his leg between yours you started gyrating against him, slotting the ridge of his legplate against where your slit pressed at the fabric of your pants; and his eyes shot open at the new sensation of you riding his thigh.

“You know I c-can do that for you, right?” He asked with a whine, nearly choking on his own tongue when you palmed at his sack.

“No touching, that’s an order.” Ohohoho he didn’t like that one bit, his eyebrows nearly dancing off his forehead while he tried to process the thought of not being able to touch the body of the woman he had sworn himself to. His plush lips curled up and bore his teeth at you in a rabid snarl that morphed into a villainous grin.

“Yes, captain.”

You ground down on his legplate in time with your fisting, feeling your own warm slick sticking to the inside of your trousers and slipping down the insides of your thighs. Your Mandalorian rocked his hips up against your downward strokes, clawing his hands at the armrests of the iron throne you had sat him in, forbidden to grope at your rolling breasts like he so desperately wanted to. The way you rolled your hips over his thigh had the gorgeous dewdrops swaying right in front of his eyes, nearly hypnotizing him with the way they moved. Just a little closer and he could take the tip of one in his mouth where it belonged, where he could suckle the taste of the plum nectar off of them until just the sweet, delectable taste of you remained.

The hard beskar grinding against your cunt felt wonderful, but not as marvelous as you knew the feel of his living steel would be. Without releasing him from your grasp you stood up from his hot armor and pushed yourself up between his legs. “Get me out of these.”

Brown eyes twinkled at you from under sly brows. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch you?”

“Either you take them off of me or I let go of mini mando. Your choice.” You twisted your fist around him to make your point, making him convulse in your grasp and moan right in your face. You heard the sound of your pants hitting the floor before you even felt him digging at your waist, and you couldn’t help but look down at your bare legs in surprise. “Impressive, now hands off, mister.”

“Vixen.”

“Captain.” Kicking your boots off you clambered up into the chair with him, setting your knees on the bulky armrests so that you hovered just out of reach of his throbbing cock. His hips jutted upwards, trying to reach wondrous warmth, but to no avail. The shit-eating-grin you flashed him made him growl , he was getting so impatient, but you didn’t give a single fuck. “You want this, hmm?” You ran a hand through your folds, circling your own clit for him to watch while you played with his dick. At his sides his fingers curled and uncurled into fidgety fists, simultaneously loving and hating the order you had given.

“F- fuck yes please, cyare.”

“Is that begging I hear?” You chuckled venomously, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “For shame, a Mandalorian begging to have his cock fucked.” The muscles that usually bore the weight of beskar twitched on the sides of his neck, making the glare of the visor that usually hid him easy to imagine. “Go ahead then, beg me to take you.” Another flick of your wrist had him arching his back and running his hands up through his disheveled locks until he was grabbing at the headrest for support. You were turning him into such a mess, and the lids of his eyes fought to keep his gaze on where your hand was fanning and spreading your own burning need around for him to see. “Say my name.”

A ragged gasp of your birthname sang its way into the dark of the bridge, but the sound of it sounded so strange now, as if it didn’t belong to you any more, and you tutted and shook your head. From between his raised arms he waggled brows at you, surprised that he hadn’t given you what you’d demanded. “No, not that one,” you whispered, letting the heat of your breath collide with the steam of the living locomotive.

“C-c-c- cyare…”His stuttering words punctuated the rock of his hips, and he throbbed hard in your palm. You swapped hands, dragging your own hot slick over his length, but only a single stroke, can’t have him coming undone just yet.

“Nope. Pick another one.”

His head rolled back against the headrest under his elbows that were now over his eyes, trying to hide himself from your vicious teasing. You knew words weren’t his strong point, but watching him writhe to meet your demands was a show worth waiting for.

“S-ss- Star-ssong?” The term of endearment hissed through his clenched teeth, Hmm, closer. You rewarded him with another slide of your soaked hand, swiping a thumb through the weeping slit of his swollen length.

“Lemme hear that in Mando’a.”

“Tra’laaar-! Please Tra’laar!” The agonized whine that he barked out practically echoed through the stately chamber, and it was perfection. Through one tightly-screwed eye he saw you flash a smile at him and nod, and you sped your efforts up and down his length, making him almost cry at the sensation. “Tra’laar, ner Tra’laar, gedet’ye! Gedet’ye ni linibar gar!” The words of his native tongue poured out of him like the river he’d nearly drowned in, and though you only knew the sound of your gifted name, the agonized prayers told you enough.

Carefully you lifted yourself down from the armrests and into the seat, squeezing your knees in between the durasteel and the side of his hips and letting your molten core swallow him inch by delicious inch. Under you the Mandalorian rutted hard up into your heat, and you caught his hands in yours before he could grapple at your waist. “I said no touching.”

He fought in your grasp, nearly clawing his way to your feverish flesh, but settled for being able to finally be inside of you. The muscles of his abdomen rolled his hips up into you, trying their damnedest to quench his thirst, and you tossed his arms away from you to drag your fingers through the soft treasure trail of his belly. Beneath your fingertips he twitched and heaved, caught between the need to feel you sliding over his cock and the terror of having his soft underbelly exposed.

Sparing his vulnerable guts for now, you glided your hands up to his chest, riding him slowly and deliberately while you took your sweet time. Your eyes watched his as you rose higher up on your knees and sank back down again and again, reveling in the way his gorgeous eyes flickered every time he disappeared into you. Though he wasn’t allowed to touch you, that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him, and you swiped your thumbs under the buds of his chest, almost getting your lights knocked out when he balked at the sensation. In the corners of your eyes you could see his white-knuckled fists still clenching at the sides of the chair, and you gently pinched and rolled the sensitive little nibs between your fingers until he was shaking between your legs.

“P-p-p please, Tra’laar, I… c-can’t take much m-m-more…” You were supposed to be the minstrel of the two of you, but the way he practically sang like a canary made your blood run hot and your fluttering coils seize around him. “Please, please let me touch you?”

“Since you asked so nicely, but only if you keep begging.” Instantly he was on you, holding you by the indents of your neck and back and pulling you down against his chest. With you fixed in place he catapulted up into you, slamming into your slick cunt with a force to be reckoned with. In your ear he spilled long strings of mando’a, though his ragged tempo broke the sweet phrases down into meaningless, lustful jargon. The hot palms on your neck and back broke loose and slapped down on the swell of your ass, giving him complete control to thrust up into you with abandon. The speed and strength of the beskar bronco had you seeing stars in no time, and the shameful squelch of you coming around his length was only drowned out by his own filthy groans.

“Such a good girl, coming around my cock.” He purred in your ear, the sultry words dripping with more malice than your cunt was dripping with cum. “My turn.”

He threw himself forward, flipping the two of you like a slutty pancake down onto the dirty floor, carefully cradling the back of your head while he did so as not to crack your skull open from the force of impact. You weren’t given a single second to process the change of scenery before he was leaning back to set you at the perfect angle for him to chase his own release. Strong hips thrust against the backs of your thighs, sending the head of his cock bumping against the sensitive patch of nerves over and over until you were clenching around him again. He threw your legs over his shoulders and plowed, giving you a front row ticket to him grinding himself to completion.

His face was a disaster, brows furrowed and lips pulled back in a snarl that only broke apart with a victorious roar while he spilled everything he had into you until it was nearly frothing out around where you were melted together. He let one of your legs sink off of his shoulder, but coiled his arms around the other, hugging the only part of you he could reach to keep himself steady. For a moment he looked so lovely, almost delicate, as if he was running his hands over a stringed instrument instead of your shaking leg. Whiskered kisses dotted along the side of your leg just moments before he was biting it, hard. With a yelp you fought back in the only way you could by clamping down on his cock that was still buried deep inside, making him falter and release your captive calf. He sank over you, jackknifing you under him while he hunted for your mouth. Through the fiery kisses you could feel the sides of his fuzzy lips turning upwards until his devious grin was making it difficult to kiss him back.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“You started it.”

“I didn’t do shit.” You giggled and fought against the meat of his shoulder to let your leg go, and when you had your limbs back to yourself you wrapped all of them around him, locking him to you while you both caught your breath. High above you the storm had started to wane, down to a siegeworthy drizzle from a rampant monsoon, though it was still darker than the midnight sea under the frumious cloud cover. There weren��t any stars for you to get lost in outside that sloping transparisteel, but when your lover turned his eyes to meet yours you knew you didn’t need any celestial bodies to navigate the cosmos with.

Din kissed you again, sweet and slow in his promising way, swearing to love you without a single word. A low, warm rumble of a laugh made its way through his ribs and resonated against your chest, “You’re so beautiful like this, riduur’ika. I wish you could see what I see.”

“I think I can take a guess.” A stray curl had flopped over his sweatstreaked brow, and you gently brushed it back into place with tired fingers. If you looked anything like he did now, blissful and sweaty and exhausted, then you supposed you were probably as beautiful as he said. “Sorry to take away from the festivities, but I gotta ask, where’s our foundling at?”

Your husband propped himself up on his elbows to address you better, “He’s with the Ewoks, I haven’t heard any screaming so he must be behaving, which is unlike him.”

“Ewoks?”

He cocked a brow at you, “Yes, Ewoks, I think you called them ‘bear thingies?’”

Now it was your turn for crooked glances, “That’s not an ewok, ewoks are some kind of animal, I’ve had ewok and I can assure you it didn’t taste like fur.”

Din turned away from you with a horrified expression that flattened out the crinkles around his wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“The fuck does that mean?!” You ignored the feeling of him slipping out from your soaked core to deal with the sudden bantha in the room. “Din?!”

“Those poachers we dealt with? Yeah… um. Ewoks are… a… delicacy on s-some planets… ”

“Your pillow talk needs work you big fucking waffle iron!”

Obscenities flew like bullets between the two of you, though as lecherous as you could both be, everything was said with a hefty serving of affection as you both sauntered your way off of the desecrated flight deck. You were glad to leave the pit of memories behind as you spat venom to your husband, who gladly returned fire with more playful jabs. Maybe one day you would tell him of the time you had spent on those mighty star cruisers, though you would just as much rather let bygones be bygones.

After all, you knew how much he hated Imps...

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #bargaining with beskar

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periminkle · 4 years

Text

Orphic | 01

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.3k (includes slightly edited version of preview!)

rating: PG-15

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, scuffle, not nice people >:(

author’s note: the first chap! thanks so much for all the love for the preview and pls let me know if you enjoyed it bc i have even more of a praise kink than our king jimin :) i don’t wanna know if u hated it lmao get outta herE

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“Almost there... And... Done!”

I heaved the last of the sturdy boxes into the narrow doorway, pride bubbling at my unexpected strength. Droplets of salty perspiration were beginning to form at my temples and became increasingly uncomfortable the longer I stood there.

But, with a litter of obnoxiously brown boxes blocking the route into my recently purchased home, I had no way of setting foot past the minimal space by the doorway. “Shit.”

Spontaneously deciding that enough energy had been exerted for the day, evident by the shroud of darkness out the expansive windows, a few steps took me back out the front door. I followed the chipped white timber of the sides of my house, heading towards the back entrance.

Even though the plot was relatively large in size, the cottage built upon the land was minuscule; a single floor encompassing a kitchen, living room, hallway, bedroom and bathroom.

With that being said, the rest of the expanse was mine to revel in and admire. Hence the lack of fence encompassing my area, seeing as the forest bled its way into my recently mowed lawn anyhow.

The bulk of the towering woodland was hidden in a blanket of obscurity, brought about by the later hours that subtly induced unease. Those late night horror movie marathons only worsened the unrest in my mind.

I tried to dispel the disquietude with thoughts of the methodic chirping, courtesy of the tiny orchestra of crickets that seemed to be scattered in every which direction. The smell of the damp earth invaded my senses and relaxed my shoulders a fraction.

Albeit, the crunch of dead leaves being trampled under a heavy weight belonging to an unknown being unsettled me enough to break into a scurry along my wooden porch.

With a slight shiver slipping down my spine, I shook any solicitude off and slid open the unlocked door. I was greeted by the cool air conditioning of the indoors, as well as a telltale grumble from my own drained form.

I preheated a batch of leftovers that I’d thankfully packed from my family’s house, foreseeing how debilitating the move would be. Without regard to the lamentable furniture surrounding me, I plonked down on a creaky seat and felt my depleted energy stored slowly being refilled with each bite.

Even though my furnishings and house were humble, regret had no place in my mind for the difficult decision I’d made to pack up and leave my childhood home. Over there, the lights never flickered and scuffled furniture simply didn’t exist, with even the moldings on the walls lacking even a speck of dust.

But I witnessed, lived, through the monstrosities that lay beyond all those superficial aspects. The suffocating nature, not in the air that circulated around the place, but in the individuals with no respect for one another. My tolerance thinned over the years and I’d left the second I could.

Living in a secluded area of my tiny town had its own perks for my antisocial self — one of which being an absurd amount of land for a relatively cheap price — but the appeal of living in a bustling city wasn’t lost on me.

For reasons excluding my relatives, I was simply tired of having lived in a city my whole life and desired some form of change, meeting new mindsets and developing my own.

Before I’d even properly settled in, I’d been convinced that moving out here had been a brilliant decision. Saving up for a couple years to be able to rent out a cozy cottage with a stunning forest as my backyard was turning out to be my haven.

Albeit, the pesky bugs were certainly not a part of that bliss.

I detached myself from the distant thoughts about my life hundreds of miles away and focused on the scenery across from me, better able to observe the breathtaking quality of the tenebrous forest from the safety of my new home. The sylvan scent penetrated my home, having closed only the window screen behind me when I entered.

Hearing the weak mewl of some kind of feline peaked my curiosity, wondering if a neighbour’s cat had taken a long journey and gotten themselves lost. I picked up the slow movement slinking among the bramble that connected my backyard to the thick timberland.

The light from my lamps only extended so far and unluckily, I was unable to properly identify the animal staggering towards my back porch. My heart ached, thinking that this poor animal must be starving and in need of help.

An apparent limp in its movements tugged at the last of my heartstrings. My fridge was stocked full, being one of my top priorities when I moved in; so food wasn’t a problem right now. Deciding it would be nice to make a new friend, I gathered my own bowl and headed outside.

The sliding of the window screen startled the pitiful creature, making a hasty retreat in the form of a hobble to find refuge in the foliage, hiding and waiting for my next move. I let out a small smile, hoping to appear as friendly as possible as I slowly stepped out into the chilly night air once again.

“Hey buddy, what’re you doing out here?” I crouched down and laid the bowl on the floor. “It’s kinda cold out, hm?”

Not even the twitch of a leaf.

“Are you hungry?”

I was met once again with no reaction. Deflated yet understanding in the lack of trust, I pushed myself back up, grabbing the bowl. As I stepped towards the door though, I heard it again.

Mew.

With a quiet giggle, I turned back, winked at the still-hidden creature and stepped inside, sliding the door closed. The night was silent, save for the trill of the crickets reaching their own encore for the night when the door abruptly opened once again.

“You like tuna, bud?” A smaller plate with canned tuna, out of the can but still in its cylindrical shape was placed on the last step of the porch. “Thought you might like that more than leftovers, huh?”

Although the same lack of response took place, I wasn’t deterred this time, smiling one last time into the darkness. “Enjoy it, but not too much okay? Go back to your owner’s house after this.” I let a shiver run through my body from the cold nipping my bare skin before ambling back inside to finish off my own dinner.

Despite my words, I did hope the kitty would come visit again.

I felt yet another ache pulse through my stiff back. The absence of a proper bed to sleep in at night was duly noted and the task of assembling my bed frame was bumped up higher on my to-do list for the day. Another night of cuddling up on the freezing, rigid floor with only a flimsy sheet to cushion my restless body might strip a decade out of my life expectancy.

A feeble attempt to flatten out my wrinkled button up — that I painstakingly ironed the day before — proved as fruitless as the dozen other times I tried smoothing it out just this morning. I brushed the imaginary dust off my modest pencil skirt while I was at it, resigning to my rumpled fate.

Groaning, I swiftly nabbed a granola bar and a pre-made sandwich I’d filled with tuna, inspired by the incident with the hidden feline last night. Despite the gruelling urge within me to check for possible remainders on the porch step, the blinking light from the oven clock pushed me down the slender hall and back to my barricaded doorway,

I squawked in recollection, pushing at the hefty boxes in a flurry. Eventually, I created a tunnel which I crawled through, slipping some sneakers on before stumbling out to the bus stop. When I recalled that the closest stop was a five minute walk, time being a luxury I couldn’t afford right now, I broke into a sprint.

With heaving lungs, I reached the little blue shelter just as the bulky vehicle rounded the corner. A few steps, the tap of a card, the beep of the completed transaction, and a huff brought me on to an austere seat.

The same shade of prosaic blue within the bus itself led my eyes to the view beyond the dirty windows, marvelling at the vibrant greens and bright earthy tones that blocked any view of the sky.

Fifteen minutes condensed into seconds, my mind racing with the new possibilities and experiences this town would bring me. Even the prospect of the shy kitty returning again tonight prompted a brief smile.

Dismounting from the stifling vehicle, I took a moment to adjust to the blinding white shade of the laboratory; I pursed my lips in determination. Hoping to appear graceful with long strides, I made my way to the entrance, pulling open the heavy door with a click. A receptionist came into view.

She could barely be seen over the lengthy, curved desk, only the top of her coiffed strands on the crown of her head peaking through. As I approached, I took in her excessively teased hair and big brown eyes, accented with thick, black liner.

Clasping both hands together in a bundle of chilly nerves, I patiently waited for the tapping of the keyboard to cease before she turned one heavily shadowed lid towards me. “Hello, welcome to the Test Centre of Enriched Mutagens, how can I help you today?”

Only slightly intimidated, I fumbled with my fingers out of sight. “Uh, hi there. I recently got hired as a lab attendant here.” Cursing my distinctly timid tone I continued, “I was instructed to ask for a Kim Seokjin?”

A stiff nod and more typing was my only reply. Orbs remaining trained on the monitor in front of her as the lady picked up the receiver, punched some numbers in a rapid succession, then situated the phone between her right shoulder and ear. The fervent tapping continued.

I wondered what she was typing up that was so important.

“Yes, she’s here director,” she quipped. My gaze lodged itself onto her name tag, framed by her strawberry blonde locks. Bae Eunmi. “Of course, I’ll send her up.”

The receiver clicked in place as she nodded her head towards the left. After a couple seconds passed with no further acknowledgement, I became increasingly aware that the short interaction was all I was going to get out of the curt woman, trekking over to the elevator she had indicated earlier.

With only two floors to the laboratory, the trip wasn’t long enough to grant me time to compose myself from the abrupt conversation I experienced before I was met with a long hallway, ending with a sturdy door that had a slit above the bulky handle for a keycard.

Seeing as I had not received any sort of card, I peered around at the nameplates drilled beside the other wooden doors. This floor ominously had no windows, a dingy, low lamp the only source of light that allowed me to decipher the engravings.

I passed a few flashy titles before I reached Assistant Director Kim Seokjin.

With a deceivingly confident knock and a shaky inhale I picked up a faint, “come in.”

A rather spacious office was revealed as I pulled open the heavy wood — shelves filled with packed binders, loose papers scattered across the desk with a thin monitor practically concealed under neon coloured sticky notes. Even the two chairs tucked away in the corner had a teetering stack of paperwork on each seat.

I took a step inside the chaotic space and bowed to the man whose sunken eyes flickered to my own. “Hi, sorry to disturb you. My name is Y/N and we talked on the phone last week. I’m the new research attendant.”

He flashed me a kind smile through his exhaustion, his evidently dull features proof of a long night. Considering the sheer amount of paper work in his office, I wasn’t sure a good night’s rest was ever on this man’s schedule.

“Ah, yes, you came down from the city, correct?” I nodded in confirmation, glad he remembered our previous conversation. “My apologies that the director couldn’t meet you himself, but you’ll get to see my handsome face instead,” he chuckled, sounding faintly similar to a windshield wiper. “I’m Kim Seokjin, the assistant director, but you can just call me Jin, everyone here does.”

I felt my tense body slacken at his warmth and bright disposition despite his arduous workload. Unconsciously, I suspected the whole staff may be terse and unwelcoming, though I was thankful that I was pleasantly mistaken. In my comfort, a chortle escaped my lips. “Alright then, Jin, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course it is,” he exclaimed with a jesting harrumph. “So, how are you liking this lonely town so far?”

Taking a few steps closer I responded honestly. “Even though the loneliness hasn’t hit me yet, I feel like I can finally breathe here. The city was a bit much sometimes.”

Humming in an understanding tone, I watched him rise from his plush chair, plucking one of the many binders out of the shelf and placing it on top of the mountain of papers on his desk. “That’s a good mentality, you know? I hope you can always find the silver lining in any situation you’re thrown into.”

Jin grips one of the many contracts laid within and slides it over to me with a pen. “Sign each highlight please.”

As I read over all the nitty gritty details, the man across from me continued, “I really hope you can be as resilient as we need you to be, Y/N. I know it’s tough work, but I just have a good feeling about you.”

Not paying much mind to Jin’s ramblings I easily agreed and handed the completed contract back.

“Well, come on then, I’ll introduce you to the people you’ll be working with.”

I accompanied Jin back out his office and down the hall, past yet another sturdy wooden door. The strong, pungent scent of coffee assaulted my nose, confirming the new space I’d entered was the break room; two male employees lounging around and sipping on their steaming mugs.

“You finally came out of that office Jin?” A tall man leaning against one of the tables called out first, grinning with his dimples on full display. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well, it seems like I’m the only one doing work around here anymore.” He jested, a playful smirk attached to his handsome visage.

“You can’t blame us, you know Hyunho and Minzi would never let us breathe the same air as their ‘confidential project.’ Wouldn’t want our ‘inexperienced hands’ ruining the whole thing.” The other man in the room rolled his eyes, taking another sip of the bitter liquid in his cup.

“We’re not getting into this again, you two.” Seokjin gave a stern look, any lighthearted air in the room dissipating along with his remark. He glanced back at me, nudging me forward with a tap to my shoulder. “This is the new lab attendant, Y/N.”

Although the sharp-eyed man spared a sympathetic glance my way he backfired with, “yeah, the third one this month.”

“Yoongi, I said that’s enough.” Although Seokjin’s words were strict and clipped, the palm rubbing over his face displayed his fatigue.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t even have access to the files, I mean we are researchers too, this is complete bullshi—”

“Y/N, I’ll be heading back to my office to finish up some paperwork, alright? These two can show you ropes.” The assistant director turned in my direction, the corners of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly before trudging back to his office.

The shorter man slammed his mug down on the shabby table with a low, “goddamnit.”

“Honestly, I think this little guy is the best part of the whole place.” The dimpled man who had introduced himself as Kim Namjoon flashed his dimples, attempting to overcompensate for his gloomy partner, Min Yoongi.

The two had been working as lab assistants here for a few years now and despite the seniority, Namjoon insisted on maintaining a first name basis with both him and Yoongi. He also offered a tour, which I graciously accepted.

“A jaguar?”

“A baby jaguar.” The sprawled sleeping form of a pitch black feline met my eyes. “He was brought in about three months ago. His name is Taemin.” I carefully approached the cage, maintaining a safe distance as a general precaution despite his lack of consciousness.

Rather than providing comfort, I found that the muzzle locked around his jaws unsettled me further, which I found oddly paradoxical. I guess my designated tour guide picked up on my discomfort when he voiced, “he’s docile enough to us, but if Hyunho or any of his lackeys come by, he can get real aggressive.”

This was the second time that name popped up into the conversation and I quelled my blazing curiosity, dispelling any urges to question Namjoon about the mysterious figure. With the negative context his name was brought up with and the dark, brooding look Yoongi wore, I decided it was best not to prod, for my own sake as well.

I was brought back to reality when the animal in front of me shifted slightly. Despite my reluctancy to become attached, I couldn’t help but coo when a stretch wracked his small form, turning over in his sleep.

Although I had done my share of research into this laboratory before applying to the position and was cognizant that they didn’t harm any of their subjects — I knew Taemin’s life wasn’t in any danger, but he would be gone once all his testing was complete. I refused to get too emotionally attached in order to avoid future heartache.

I noticed his head cuddling deeper into his plush bed and knew my plan was futile. “You think he would like me?”

Namjoon let out a hum in thought, “I’m not too sure. You can try petting him if you want, just make sure to let him sniff you first.”

Slowly unlocking the cage, I extended my hand towards the muzzle, waiting with bated breath. The still sleeping animal brought up its head and placed his cheek in my cupped hand, letting loose a faint purr that I felt traveling up my palm. I stroked the edge of his jaw that wasn’t covered by the muzzle.

Oh no.

It was too late, Taemin owned every inch of my heart.

Gently placing his head back down onto his fluffy bed, my hand made a swift retreat as I flicked the lock back in place. I hoped I would be able to see more of the baby in the future.

Standing back up to face Namjoon I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the angel behind bars. Pondering when we would head to the second floor after having examined every speck of dust in the first floor, I voiced my thoughts to the lanky man. “So, are we heading back up now?”

A sigh met my ears and I turned to look at the brooding culprit who hadn’t opened his mouth since the tense interaction with Seokjin, simply tagging along the tour that Namjoon narrated. “We can’t introduce you to anything you haven’t already seen upstairs.” When he met my confused orbs he continued, “we can only enter the break room and Jin’s office up there, everything else is off limits.”

“Oh, um... I don’t mean to sound rude, especially since this is my first day and everything, but the equipment down here seem pretty... Insufficient for quality resear-” I stuttered out my concerns.

“Don’t you think we know that? Why do you think we go through lab attendants so quickly? Nobody wants to stay in a place that doesn’t have the proper equipment to perform any kind of substantial research. Not to mention neither of the head researchers trust us enough to even look at the stupid files.”

Namjoon piped in, probably sensing how heated the other man was getting. “We mainly just note the patterns in the bases of a variety of animals’ DNA that involve certain genes.”

“Not to say that’s not effective research, but scientists with your qualifications usually investigate more ground-breaking subjects.” I became a bit dejected at my own future here; I applied for a job here to further my ambitions, knowing this lab was well-known for its high quality studies.

Would I be forced to move back to the city? I couldn’t tuck tail and scutter home after all the effort and money I expended on this move, not to mention the disastrous situation I would be faced with if I returned now. No, I was desperate to find a reason to stick it out. “Why do you two stay here then? Why not just find another lab?”

“It wasn’t always like this, Y/N. It’s been over half a year now since the new management came in and basically brought in a whole new set of personnel with them. They took all the most expensive equipment upstairs and sealed it behind a locked door.”

“They even replaced the damned cleaning staff.” Yoongi scoffed out, painstakingly fed up with the circumstances.

Namjoon crossed his arms, giving a warning look over to man with bleached locks, probably in order to keep his anger from bleeding through for the second time today. “They were adamant about keeping Jin and he let us stick around, couldn’t leave this lab in the hands of complete strangers.”

“But why—”

My wrist was suddenly enclosed in Yoongi’s long, thin fingers, dragging me into the assistant researcher’s office they had familiarized me with half an hour ago. I saw Namjoon glance around before entering in after us and closing the door behind him.

Yoongi released his grip on me, leaning in close and hissing out, “it’s all some cryptic confidentiality bullshit. They’re doing something up there, something revolutionary, something dangerous, and they only trust their own people to keep quiet.”

With a hum, slightly intimidated, I questioned, “okay, but why did they evacuate the whole place, why not just build another lab and—”

Namjoon leant against the door, lowering his voice as well. “This is a remote town, there won’t be many people to question and investigate what they’re studying all the way out here.”

With many overwhelming thoughts raging, the locked door upstairs abruptly came to mind. “You don’t have the keycard either, I’m guessing.”

“You pick things up pretty quick, huh?”

After the draining events at work, I felt no motivation to peel off my thoroughly wrinkled items of clothing, having switched out of the lab clothes in the changing room back at work.

Rather than a physical enervation, the realization that my expectations to further my own studies was not a reality here sapped me of any incentive to unpack or do anything of value.

The temptation of warm pyjamas encasing my shivering body as I slept another night on the hard surface of the floor was almost reason enough to conjure up some hidden energy from the deepest recesses of my body.

I crawled my way though the makeshift hole I made earlier in the day through two of the boxes. Thankfully, no roommates meant that the house was absent of another being to pester me regarding the hassle I made at the entrance, though I thought it was quite clever considering my circumstances.

The sun had set many hours back, which I failed to detect as all my concentration was set on marking down the base sequence that brought about Taemin’s black fur colour. Jin was double-checking the state of each room before locking up for the night when he discovered my form, hunched over a microscope.

Continuing to the kitchen on hands and knees out of my present shortage in strength, I nearly decided to call it a night right there in the middle of the hallway. Though, I settled with briskly whipping up an egg or two in hopes that it would replenish enough energy to tidy up a bit before retiring to bed.

I left the eggs to cook as I departed, off to locate a plate, which I only had two of at the moment, courtesy of the unloading that needed to be completed at the doorway. A glimpse into the sink revealed the location of one suspect, dirty from yesterday’s dinner.

I tugged open the nearest cabinet to search for the other one because I sure as hell was not washing any dishes right now. But, instead of the ceramic I was expecting, the bare walls of the storage area stumped me.

The memory of the creature I’d met yesterday flashed through my mind, bringing about a sudden burst of excitement that had me shuffling my way to the backyard door, flicking the porch light on and staring at the wood that seemed to glare back at me.

No sight of the tuna or the plate.

Initially, I took extreme offence to the absurd situation. I graciously extended a helping hand to a vulnerable cat to enjoy some savoury tuna and the bugger decided to steal—

Wait.

How in the hell did the thumbless feline pick up the hefty plate in the first place?

After snooping around the surrounding area a bit, no sight of the pristine plate, I gave up. Maybe it held the ceramic in its mouth?

The mental image I’d conjured up brought a slight chuckle out of me, cutting short when catching sight of several crimson paw prints on the porch, accompanied by specks of the same hue. I pondered the unusually large size of the print, slightly larger than my palm.

An alarmingly large quantity of blood appeared with each step, the pace of my heart quickening with worry both for myself and the creature. Who could harm a massive animal like this and for what purpose?

I also thought about if the splotches would wash out with the rain or if I had to slot in a time to come out and clean off the marks. Although, the cleaning supplies were also in those unpacked boxes, so any stain removal had to be put on hold.

The bloody prints extended into my lawn as well, blades of grass covered in a layer of red. From what I could make out, the trail was U-shaped, beginning from the forest, coming to where I stood at the porch, then heading back.

A spike of fear travelled through me when a thicket shook violently. Were these stains left by the kitty I encountered the day before? From my limited knowledge in zoology, I doubted that large cats could even produce such pathetic mewls with their vocal chords, which were better suited to growl or roar.

But what was a creature of this size doing on the outskirts of civilization? I wasn’t too sure about how far the woodlands extended past my yard, but I was relatively certain that the bulkier predators had more than enough space to themselves without needing to expand their territory.

I was in the midst of this back-and-forth conflict with myself when I heard a familiar cry reaching my ears. Pushing back my raucous thoughts for a moment, I settled on responding to little thief.

“You’re back! Do you happen to have my plate by any chance?”

The lack of response confirmed my suspicions. I was now down to one, currently grubby plate in the house.

“Alright, fine, keep the damn thing.” The initial fear and suspicion I felt had simmered down quite bit, heavily due to the lack of aggression on the animal’s part and a distinct fondness I held for my first friend here that I wasn’t aware of yet. Though, I remained on guard, as there could always be another beast lurking.

In order to discover any of answers I was seeking, I knew that I had to take matters into my own hands and decipher whether my pitiful kitty was actually a large, ferocious feline— badly hurt, nonetheless. I took the portable first-aid kit out of my bag as well as the forgotten, squished tuna sandwich.

Removing the saran wrap and crumpling it into a ball, I placed the much-smaller-than-I-remember sandwich down on the wood as bait. “Guess we can’t be civil, huh bub? If you’re gonna steal my plate, have the courage to show yourself, you criminal," I teased and hoped to lure the cautious creature out.

Nothing.

“Hey, you wanna come and let me get a look at you? I can see if I can patch you up, how about that?”

Nope.

“Come on, look! You’re favourite tuna, in a delicious sandwich now!”

Nada.

I pouted at the bundle of leaves I knew the feline was hiding under, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction. Albeit, any sliver of hope was crushed with the lack of movement. Worry grew at the back of my mind, desperately hoping that the creature could live through their seemingly dire injuries. I flashed a regretful smile and lowered the sandwich on the last step.

At the very least, I wished that the snack would provide energy for its body to repair itself. With one last glance at the silent underbrush, I turned my back and lumbered into the confines of my cottage. Hopefully, I would get another chance to beckon the mammal out of its hiding place tomorrow.

The contrast of the dark droplets of blood against the light wood of my porch disturbed me more than I’d like to admit.

The daily routine of travelling to work, interacting with the few friends I made there and coming back home to attend late night meetings with my concealed kitty was growing on me. I was elated that I finally found a group of my own people, and not-quite-people, to converse and share thoughts with.

However, this town also seemed to have its own fair share of rotten apples.

I finally met the rumoured Lee Hyunho, a bulky man who introduced himself as one of the two head researchers. He seemed polite enough at first, but I detected the same brusque characteristic I noticed in the receptionist from my first day.

It appeared that all the staff brought in by the “new” management had this particular quality.

My own frustrations began to grow alongside Namjoon and Yoongi, constantly repeating the same tasks over and over again, day after day. When I tried to confront the other head researcher, Joo Minzi, about granting us more access to the studies they were conducting, she made it very clear that my “inexperienced hands” were not permitted to touch any of their files, test subjects or even approach the lab upstairs.

Charming, really.

The interaction left me fuming, much to Namjoon’s amusement, claiming that he now had two fiery beasts to quell. My interactions with the arrogant staff members were limited though, and bouncing between Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin, and the surprisingly amicable janitor made the work days bearable.

I also took immense pleasure in going against Minzi’s words by playing with Taemin every once in a while.

I was proud to announce my accomplishment in finally unloading all of the supplies within my many boxes to anyone that would listen, now able to revel in the tidiness of my living space. The guys were able to visit now too, previously refusing to crawl through my rather unique entryway.

Progress concerning my kitty was little to none, but I did discover that it was immensely therapeutic to relay my worries to the mammal, finding comfort in its presence.

I took the rustling of the leaves as acknowledgement for my exasperated tone. “I mean, I don’t even feel like a researcher there! It’s all ‘hey newbie, go get me a coffee,’ ‘this is classified, no touching,’ ‘you can’t participate, this isn’t a charity,’ blah, blah, blah...” I raised my tone and ended my rant with a pout, embodying the childish behaviour that encompassed how I felt I was being treated as of late.

“Remember the really cute janitor I was telling you about? Jung Hoseok? Well, he was telling me about some stuff he heard when he was cleaning the lab upstairs.” I heard a short swish of foliage being disrupted, which I assumed was a result of the creature tilting its head.

“Apparently, they’d made big advancements on whatever stupid ‘highly confidential’ project they’re working on. It definitely has something to do with the patterns in different animals’ DNA, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what they’re trying to accomplish...

“And guess what? Hoseok said he’d overheard that they’d lost a test subject a little over a week ago! There’s probably a mouse scurrying around somewhere, living his best, liberated life right now.” I shifted in place, adjusting my position to make myself more comfortable in the chilly night. “I just wish I knew what was going on, you know...”

“I wanted to prove them all wrong.” I sneaked a glimpse at the forest for any indication of a vocal response I knew the creature gave occasionally. In a small voice I added, “but maybe they were right.”

Another shuffle broke through my lengthy monologue and I facetiously grinned towards the camouflaged animal. “Y’know, I’m starting to really question whether you’re here for my company or for this,” I pointed to the tuna, disturbingly still in that short cylindrical shape.

I stared past the obscure stalks of the trees, having found consolation and tranquility in the space a few days prior, even from beyond my glass door. My initial apprehension of unknown monsters subsided and it was reassuring to know that my kitty was somewhere in there as well.

Another shuffle revealed a pair of bright, beady eyes meeting my own enlarged ones. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest by the sudden appearance, although I tried not to alarm the creature back into hiding by revealing my own trepidation.

Knowing the keen senses felines had, there was little doubt in my mind that the one across from me wouldn’t be able to pick up my instantaneous change in demeanour.

“You gonna come and get it or what?” With a slight nod towards the meal, I cursed the slight quiver in my voice and prayed that the creature felt comfortable enough to reveal more of itself to me. My curiosity was bubbling as I allowed my gaze to travel to the crown of its head.

I concluded that the creature’s fur was either pure black or another dark tone, hard to decipher when I didn’t have the enhanced night vision of the mammal perched a few metres away. Said feline made no further movements, keeping his gaze trained on me.

I analyzed the elongated slits that served as pupils, engraving the rich green shade of its irises into my mind, fearful that this sudden intimacy may scare the mammal off, never to be seen again. But, I found myself unable to divert my gaze, feeling as though I was staring at a physical manifestation of the pure soul of the forest.

It was utterly mesmerizing.

An impatient gruff left the creature’s mouth, snapping me out of my reverie and I resigned. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m leaving alright?”

Maybe one day the mammal would feel comfortable enough to eat in front of me and I could migrate my dinners to the porch outside. Refusing to get too greedy, I reminded myself that the baby steps taken today were infinitely better than none at all.

With one foot in my house, I turned back to the tantalizing eyes, still focused on my pyjama-clad form as I beamed back gratefully. “’Night bud.”

The snapping of the lock clicking back into place alleviated some of the soreness of my overworked muscles as I took another step inside. My head fell back to sneak a glance at the ceiling, hoping to peek past the old plaster and stare into the eyes of any higher being out there.

I quickly considered whether to thank them for this opportunity of a lifetime or to curse them out for my seemingly limitless workload.

As my eyelids slid close in defeat, an exhausted sigh involuntarily slipped out into the silence. Kicking off my shoes into the pitiful pile by the doorway to join the rest of its brethren, I wandered deeper into my rather small abode in the darkness; only my padded footsteps and the zipper of my jacket being undone

Hearing my stomach rumble with its complaints, I made the couple steps toward the kitchen’s light switch. But, an abrupt halt came with the memory of yesterday’s optimistic plan of embarking on a trip to the grocery store after a short work shift.

Evidently, I hadn’t predicted the gruelling day I would have nor the extra hours that would be requested of me. I found that I’d been frequenting the store quite often as of late, the demand of food increasing once another mouth to feed came into question.

In a reluctant fashion, I pulled my jacket back up to my shoulders, knowing that the fridge was just as empty as my stomach currently was. I pushed my aching limbs back towards the entrance, pondering over whether the grocery store was even open this late in the night.

However, I was forced to a grinding halt once again as I heard a booming thump from my backyard and my blood ran cold.

I waited with bated breath as my heart rate elevated, pounding in my ears. A minute of stillness passed before yet another sigh escaped my jittery body. Another disadvantage of a remote plot included being frightened by every snap of a twig.

As a scoff passed through my chapped lips at my own cowardly antics, I began to resume my trek to the front door when another thud reached my ears. The recognition of the sound coming from the backyard alerted me that this time may be different, with the presence of an actual threat.

Following a series of gut-wrenching cracking noises, hurried footsteps approaching the wooden porch in my backyard startled me to action.

Hastily, I dashed back to the kitchen to grab an unnecessarily large kitchen knife out of the drawer and flew to cover behind my minuscule island. A quick glimpse down towards my chest revealed my shaking hands. Well, this is certainly one way to spice up my night.

Listening to the intruder fumble with the lock for a little while before it was being smashed into, I knew I couldn’t just stay cowering behind my kitchen island, waiting for this murderer to come and end my night (and all my subsequent nights thereafter). The rage behind having to buy and reinstall a new lock also propelled my need for revenge.

I took in a deep breath and steeled myself as the footsteps wandered in, coming straight towards the kitchen. A loud growl reverberated throughout my house and befuddled me further. Was the intruder simply a feral animal? The lack of a problem with my lock dismissed that thought but I couldn’t shake the feeling of a predator having sneaked into my house.

The feeling of being stalked.

I rapidly shook off that irrational thought, doubtful the stranger even knew of another presence in the house. As the intruder turned the corner — coming straight towards my hiding spot — I reared back a little before launching myself with my dull knife leading the way.

A screech made its way out of my throat as the intruder’s reflexes were evidently a lot better than mine, catching my wrist before I could inflict any damage. But, I refused to give in just yet as I attempted to smash the hard edge of my palm straight into the stranger’s nose in order to buy myself some time to flee.

Unfortunately, for me, that attack never reached its target as the intruder caught my throat in his other hand much faster and used his larger frame to smash my body against the fridge.

The wind escaped me, though I kept squirming to try whip my knee straight to his crotch as a final ditch attempt. I lightly cursed as a glimpse informed me the intruder was a brawny man.

He noticed my struggle and easily flipped me around, one hand finding purchase in my hair, banging my head against the cool metal of the fridge and the other held both of my hands pinned to my back. The knife clattered to the ground in a dangerous arc.

In the middle of wondering how the hell he gathered my wrists and disabled me in a split second, I felt a heavy growl in the shell of my ear. A cold shiver slipped down my spine, adrenaline slowing leaving my body as we both puffed out breaths of exertion.

What the actual fu—

“No hurt, need bandage and go.”

His broken English came out with a slight accent and I found myself nodding instantaneously as I tried to work out what he needed. “Okay, okay,” I muttered as best as I could with half my face smushed, “I have bandages in the big drawer by the sink. You can take those.”

I only received a grunt in acknowledgement. He nudged me with his foot to shuffle backwards with his hand still wrapped around my wrists and led me to the sink. Half curious about his motives and half accepting that I could never overpower the stranger, I followed obediently. Though that didn’t stop me from deliberating over how to outsmart the man.

Deciding on waiting for an opening or a slack in the grip around my wrists, I nodded my head towards the drawer I was referring to earlier and finally peered up at my intruder’s shadowed face. He wore a black ball cap on, aiding in hiding his features which were mostly guarded by the lack of light anyway.

A glance at the lower half of his visage allowed me to witness his pale lips and the small mole directly underneath them, as well as a sharp jawline leading to his exposed neck. Inconspicuously bringing my gaze even lower, I took in his matching tattered black outfit, confirming his bulky build and scuffed sneakers.

Maybe I could run to the nearest police station — which admittedly, was rather far, and provide a detailed description of the criminal. Considering if I made it out alive, of course.

With his vacant hand he swiftly pulled the drawer open, taking handfuls of bandages, gloves, bandaids and other miscellaneous items I crammed in there. The stranger stuffed as much equipment as he could fit into the large pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

I would have found his full little pouch endearing if I wasn’t preoccupied with worrying over my own well-being.

Another awkward wobble later, we were back at the fridge. At this point, I was gathering all the courage I had left to aim for a pressure point on the criminal’s thigh that I vaguely knew the location of. I should have paid more attention in those self-defence classes, damnit.

Just as I turned to act, he bent down to pick up the discarded knife off the floor, effectively deterring my attack and forcing me into submission. He then turned to me to flash a slight smirk.

“Cute.”

Releasing his death grip on my bound wrists, he sprinted back out my now broken back door, heading off.

After a couple minutes of stewing in my thoughts, back against the cool fridge, I struggled to comprehend the brief interaction and the dark drops of crimson littered all over my white tiles.

I still have to go grocery shopping.

tags: @aurorakingsley

#jungkook fanfic #jeongguk fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jeongguk scenarios #jungkook imagine #jeongguk imagine #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook au #jeongguk au #jungkook hybrid au #jeongguk hybrid au #was it evil to end on preview #it felt right tho #you gotta know what happens before to find out what happens after #that's my excuse anyway

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arent-you-scared-lil-human · 4 years

Text

His.

Werewolf!Ranael x Reader.

Words: 1,600.

NSFW.

My first job, please be nice and let me know what you think.

Werewolves were probably the strongest creatures out there, you lived in Smiburns Timberland and wolf packs were known and respected, the oldest pack was called The Masked Nightwalkers and no one knows for certain when they claimed Smiburns Timberland, but before your ancestors reached the place, werewolves already lived among humans.

Ranael was the first-born from Drogo, the strongest werewolf that ever lived and since the two of you were fifteen years old the two of you were inseparable, even that your city was accepting, some elder still judged when humans mated with werewolves, but you and Ranael couldn't be distanced.

Heat came to them each month and since the two of you had the same age, every month in the last five years you two fucked. And having sex with a werewolf in a night of full moon was madness, Ranael was kind, always asked -before the transformation- if you wanted to stop, but you couldn't witness his pain and neglect him the only relief he needed.

But Drogo passed away, and a big burden fell in Ran's shoulders, his five brothers and two sisters agreed with Drogo's choice of making Ranael the new alpha, Seth the third-son was against it at first but after a fight in their wolf forms with Ranael he lowered his head and accepted the order.

Walking deep in the woods holding a basket with muffins, grape juice, and some salty snacks you shivered with the cold wind. Your "private place" was a cave far enough from everyone else, and in full moon's night Ran would meet you there, where you would be ready for him and his sloppy knot.

Since it has been five years you and Ranael met monthly inside the cave the two of you made some changes so the place could be cozier.

Your nest.

Lighting your lighter you lighted all the candles inside, the bigger one in shelves on the walls so the place could be intimate.

Throwing the fluffy carpet on the ground and making sure it was perfect you took a deep breath and bite your lip. Ranael loved when you wore sundresses, even in the cold winds, he loved to watch you wearing them, and when he was in a good mood he would even request you to wear one without panties so you could ride him while he ran in the forest, your pussy always glistened and he had to shake his head to keep in alert, or else he would stop and fuck you in each place you two could reach.

Taking your sundress off followed by your panties and bra you played with your hair to make sure it looked good. Looking at the watch on the wall you saw it marked 12:45 AM, Ranael would arrive soon.

You heard woods pieces breaking in the soil so you got on fours and lowered your chest so it could touch the ground and your ass up with your moisty folds on display.

A small growl resonated and you shivered as you felt a presence behind you. "Ran..." You whispered. He sniffed your asshole and lowered to sniff your cunt, a wet lick made you almost lose balance. "Shit."

The tongue was eager to lick you up and down, going to your pussy up to your tight ring.

By the wetness you produced adding to the wetness his tongue gave you, you could feel it dripping on your tights. Normally Ran took his time, he would throw you on your back and lick your nipples, would gaze his pointy teeth at them making you anxious in the best way possible.

But paws held your waist and you were dragged back, feeling the pointy cock nearing your entrance a louder growl echoed in the cave. Wolves knew you belonged to Ranael, they wouldn't approach the nest.

Looking behind your shoulder you realized the werewolf behind you wasn't Ranael, by the cream-colored fur it was Seth.

Crawling away and pulling your sundress to cover your breasts you looked at them bewildered. Ranael growled and spit fell from his canines, Seth's teeth showing too, and Ran looked at you momentarily before settling his red eyes on his brother.

Red.

He was the alpha now.

Before you could open your lips to explain Ranael jumped on Seth and a fight broke in. They growled and bit each other and you sat in the furthest corner you could find. Ran had the upper hand and bit Seth's arm making it bleed. Seth let such an agonized sound you whimpered.

"Ran- stop." You said, scared.

He growled again and bit Seth's neck so you yelled his name. "RAN, STOP. Please." He looked at you and you were shivering. "Please. Let him go."

Placing his other paw on Seth's chest Ran howled before letting his limping brother go. Setting his eyes on yours he approached you and you let your sundress fall from your hands and looked at him. "I swear I didn't know it was him, I swear. I would never ever let him touch-"

Laying on the floor Ran placed his huge head on your lap, and you touched his head. He gazed up at you and you knew he wouldn't hurt you, but seeing his alpha eyes set on you at the same time he showed how he trusted you was everything.

Opening your legs his head moved and a sloppy lick found your core. You moaned at the feeling and he got on up his paws again, you crawled back to the furs and lowered your chest to the carpet. Ran's cock penetrated your cunt and his alpha size was bigger than it normally was, good thing you were soaked.

"Argh." He impaled you and by the force of his thrusts you knew he was marking his place, you don't know why Seth approached you but Ran knew you were loyal to him and you were entirely his.

The slick his cock was producing made a viscous liquid hold his cock inside longer than it commonly was, his tongue licked your face and with each thrust, you went forth.

He growled on your ears and you moaned, his movements got faster and harder, even if you thought it was impossible. Caressing his mane you tried to say his name, but with each syllable, his moves were rougher. "Ra-n-Rana-aell. Ah!" You held his tongue inside your mouth and sucked his wet muscle.

He howled and he came inside you, he leaned in and licked your neck before sinking his teeth in. Your orgasm came like a train, you yelled and it echoed in the cave, your cunt was on fire, your lower belly with a cold bliss and your eyes rolled back. He was marking you.

Being human this action didn't give you the effect it would give to a she-wolf, but you know Ranael felt amazing and the fact that he gave you the bit it held a great amount of passion and responsibility.

You were his.

And he was yours.

Ceasing his movements he growled and licked your naked back. You fell and allowed the fluffiness and warmth of the carpet below your sweaty body to hold you, Ran kept inside you while his knot found its place.

🐺

Waking up feeling a cock, significantly smaller, moving inside you. You looked behind your shoulder and saw Ranael's on his human form, he kissed you not giving a damn about morning breath and moaned. His hand held your hip pulling it firmly to his body and his thrusts got faster, your cunt was soaked by last night's actions and your silly "friend" morning idea.

Looking at his eyes it shifted from the deep blue to bloody red. "Who you belong to, Y/N?" He asked and your cunt gripped by his manly voice.

"You, just you, Alpha. I'm yours. All yours." He growled and placed two of his digits inside your mouth before touching your clit and moving his fingers in circles.

"You gonna cum? You gonna cum on your alpha's cock, human?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Show me, show me how wet you are for me. For your alpha."

Feeling your body losing control your cunt clenched and held him inside while his warm cum coated your walls. He slowed his movements and you smiled.

He kissed your shoulders, where it was purple duo the bit, and moved his fingers so he could pull your face and place your lips to his. Taking his cock off, you turned around and laid on his chest.

"You're the Alpha now uh?"

Letting a small chuckle he nodded before kissing your head and caressing your shoulder. "Yeah, and by last night-"

"I swear i didn't now it was Seth, I promise you Ran, you know I would never do this to you."

"I know. And thank you for pulling me back, for not letting me kill him. Cause I would."

"I know, you are too good, and i don't want something so bad to be on your shoulders. A brother's death."

"You take such good care of me. You always did." Glancing at him you kissed his chest in the place where his heart laid inside. "You wanna marry me?"

Being taken aback by the propose you were speechless, his fingers touched your marked spot and you smiled before nodding. "Of course. I'm yours."

"And I'm yours, always have been."

Smiling and biting your lower lip at the thought of getting married to Ran you were lulled to sleep. The two of you had a couple of hours before his cock would rise up again.

🐺

A kid pulled my wings off. :(

#monster story #monster x reader #male monster x female reader

95 notes · View notes

enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 5, 2641 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for

Read on AO3

In this chapter, we move a little away from Vex and meet Vax, Keyleth and... Percy?

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

Vax’ildan awakes to the ringing of the great clock in the corridor that leads to the bedroom. It clangs a little, old and cranky. Vax buries his face into the pillow. A scent of patchouli and spices linger onto the fabric of the pillowcase. He smiles lazily.

He refuses to open his eyes for a while, to let himself feel really awake. He has to leave Westrunn today, drive the last leg of his journey to Whitestone to see Vex. He’s missed her terribly, but right in this moment, in this bed, he really doesn’t want to leave.

He feels himself being gently pulled away from his pillow and back towards the man whose bed he’s currently lounging in, and lets it happen with lazy happiness. The only thing he really does is turn over to face the other, cuddling into his warmth.

“I shall soon contact the rulers of Whitestone to set up a teleportation circle…” Gilmore grumbles sleepily into Vax’s hair. “Having you leave me like this is much too cruel.”

Vax chuckles lightly and looks up at his boyfriend with a smile. Gods, he’s beautiful. He always is but this… sleep-mussed and heavy-lidded and warm version of Shaun Gilmore is one Vax especially cherishes.

“You would go through that costly and lengthy process for a few hours more of me?” Vax hums, kissing Gilmore’s lips lightly.

“In a heartbeat, Vax’ildan.”

Gods, he’s the only person allowed to call Vax by his full name. He’s the only person that doesn’t make it sound contemptuous. It’s beautiful on his lips, with his light Marquesian accent. Vax melts, reaching to slowly caress Gilmore’s chest.

He’s been in Westrunn for a week now. A lot of that week has been spent in this bed, though he did walk around and explore when Gilmore was working. That man will never stop working for anything, and Vax accepted that a long time ago. Watching the enchanter at work is entertaining enough.

Vax pulls up the deep purple sheets as he shifts to rest a little more comfortably by Gilmore.

“I still have a few hours,” he hums. “Whitestone isn’t that far from here…”

Gilmore rolls his eyes a little. “I’d rather you not be driving through the Parchwood Timberlands in the dark, darling,” he points out. “There are many stories about the creatures populating that area. I would hate for you to find your fate.”

Vax huffs a little, but doesn’t say anything back. He loves Vex, wants to see her, but he has no desire to leave Gilmore. He doesn’t see him often enough as it is, both busy and living on very different sides of the continent. It’s a bit of a struggle sometimes, despite video calls and other nifty technological ways of seeing each other.

“Maybe you could just… call your sister and let her know you won’t be there for a couple of more days…” Gilmore points out, starting to pepper kisses over Vax’s face, anywhere but his mouth. “I’m sure she’ll understand…”

The kisses get a little more insisting and Vax can’t help the happy sigh that escapes his lips. Gilmore smirks at his success. That smirk does things to Vax’s heart and body that he can’t actively describe, especially right now as his mind is very focused on the direction and pattern of the kisses, on the light scratching of Gilmore’s facial hair.

They roll over a little and Gilmore’s hand gently comes to tuck a strand of long black hair behind Vax’s ear. Their eyes meet and Vax starts drowning in brown so dark it’s almost black. He can’t refuse this man anything, can he?

“Come on,” Gilmore hums. “Just a couple of days…”

Vax leans up to capture his lips but Gilmore moves away at the last moment.

“You’re playing, Shaun,” Vax points out, raising an eyebrow. He hooks one of his legs over his boyfriend’s hip.

Gilmore raises an eyebrow. “And what are you doing?” He asks with his signature smirk.

“I’ll call her,” Vax sighs after a moment. “If she doesn’t need me, I will stay. If I hear one thing that makes me think she needs me there? I’ll go.”

Gilmore nods. “Of course, beautiful Vax’ildan. I will never keep you from her if she needs you, or if you need her.”

Vax leans up again, and this time, Gilmore lets him kiss him. They make out like this for a moment, a bare hint of heat between them, waiting to be kindled to a burning fire.

“Thank you,” Vax smiles. “But I will do this once we’re out of bed. Right now, I have something much better to do.” He smirks and shoves Gilmore back gently, pivoting his weight to roll them over and straddle him.

The next hour or so melts away in between the two of them.

----------

Keyleth darts through the tangled weeds of the Parchwood Timberlands, avoiding bigger and harsher foes and finding her way back to where she’ll be safe for the rest of the night. Her rations are too short this time, she wasn’t carefully monitoring them, and she doesn’t want to go hungry.

Her backpack is heavy with clockwork machines that she needs to sell soon, and she’ll need muscles to carry it back into Whitestone. Her monthly task is complete, and she’ll soon be able to go back to her own work.

She left more food and resources than usual, and warned him that she wouldn’t be there for a while. She needs two months or so to get to Terrah and complete the first trial of her Aramente. She can’t wait any longer.

It’s been years already, and her people are waiting for her at home. They have no idea of the situation she’s gotten herself into here. They have no idea where she stands. Or where she is.

If she takes too long, they’ll think her dead, and she can’t imagine doing that to her father, not when the loss of her mother hangs over her like a shadow. Following in her footsteps was necessary but worrying for everyone. Including her. She doesn’t want to either die or cause her father more grief.

She rushes through the low bushes until she finds the now much clearer path. From there, her instincts guide her to the entrance of the tunnel and she passes through the smaller hole without issue. Being able to turn into small beasts is a blessing in these kinds of situations.

The tunnel is damp and dark and Keyleth hates it. Even when she’s in her wolf form it’s uncomfortable. And yet she finds herself there every month or so, stuck in this routine that doesn’t seem to promise to end any time soon.

She turns herself back into her regular form, stretches her arms out. Her belly is full now. She can try and sleep.

Drops of water crash into the stone below her feet, resounding in the empty tunnel. She decides to light a fire and does quick work of it. She’s done this what feels like a million different times.

Hopefully no one will notice the smoke coming out of the secret tunnel. That would be just Keyleth’s luck. Maybe that ranger will see the smoke and find the entrance and everything will be lost because Keyleth was cold and wasn’t careful this time.

She huffs, staring into the flame. Things have gotten so much worse now that the new ranger is there. The one before was either oblivious or just let them do things as long as they didn’t leave a blood trail.

This one, Vex’ahlia, seems very different. She sensed the fiend, which the previous one might have also done, but hadn’t asked Keyleth or anyone else about it. And she’s investigating it, and going around asking for help in defeating it.

The situation just got much more dangerous for everyone involved.

She closes her eyes and tries to calm down. Her pulse is quick, her mind working overtime. She needs to calm down. She doesn’t want to bring creatures that would sense her anxiety to her. And she doesn’t want to break. Not while her best friend might be in earshot, and might hear her pain and fear.

She’ll do the screaming and the crying and the possible breaking of furniture once she’s in an inn or in another cave on her way to Terrah. Then she’ll be able to let it all out and punch the walls and heal herself afterwards. Right now, it’s too close. She needs to hold on.

Keyleth decides to turn back into her wolf form to sleep. It’s easier to keep warm that way.

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

The gun is warm. It beats against his hand like a heartbeat, maybe to the beat of his quickened heart, his adrenalin and revenge-fueled heart. They’re gone, they’re dead, they all have wounds, perfectly round holes that turned their bodies cold when he shot them.

It gets warmer against his skin. His fingers are splattered with red dots, blood splatters. Everything feels blurry. His vision has long ago tunneled. The only thing he can see right now, really see, is her.

She stands across from him, arms raised, a rapier in her right hand. It’s useless, so useless. A contemptuous, hungry laugh comes out of his mouth, taunting her. A rapier is nothing against a gun. It will never be anything.

Percival…

The voice licks at the back of his skull. He knows what he has to do. His hand rises, the gun aimed at her, the bullet in the chamber, her name on the metal. Cassandra de Rolo.

“Brother…” She says softly. She’s distressed, he can taste it on his lips, it’s sugar sweet and delectable.

She’s all yours for the taking… the last of the ones who have betrayed you…

She has betrayed him. She shoved him away and called herself another name. Why isn’t Cassandra Briarwood the name on the barrel? It should be, if she renounces the De Rolo name.

But this is Cassandra. She was never supposed to die. He was always going to forgive her. She stands there in front of him and he loves her. He forgives her. He always will, over and over. He understands she didn’t have a choice.

Why is his gun pointed at her head, why is his hand so steady?

“I’m sorry,” she cries. Tears fall on her cheeks. He wants to taste her anguish. He wants to devour her soul.

What? No. It’s his baby sister. She’s everything, and he thought he had lost her forever. She’s everything to him.

She made the rebellions fail, she made Whitestone crumble. She’s the one who kept your people subjugated. It’s her fault….

Smoke fills every corner of his being, his body, his soul, his eyes. All he can see is the spot he’s chosen to fire at, right in between her eyebrows. Her hair is still brown, while his turned white months ago. She needs to die.

His little sister who saved him, whose body he still saw in his nightmares, shot through with more arrows than he could count. The one he still thought was dead when he killed the first name on his list, the first guilty one. His little sister that loved books as much as him, but liked sneaking out much more.

Cassandra and her bear plushie that he’s pretty sure he saw in her room when he investigated the castle. Cassandra who is wearing their mother’s armor right now. Cassandra who told him she saw the Briarwoods kill their parents, from the balcony she’d snuck onto in the middle of the night and yet who STILL, after EVERYTHING, wanted to become one of them.

The monster in his heart screens and shoves and claws into him and settles there. Cassandra is still staring at him, waiting.

“Why?” She asks. “Percy, why?”

“Because you betrayed us,” he replies. “Because you betrayed me.”

“I had no choice,” Cassandra shouts this time. Her tears are rivers on her face, there’s blood splattered on there too. He is vaguely aware of a singing burning pain where he was hit by the sharp end of a sword. “They took me in, they forced me to work for them, and then…”

“And then you TURNED,” he roars out with venom and hatred and the pain, the greatest pain in the world. He loves her, and the voice in his head keeps saying he should kill her. Because he loves her. Because he trusted her. Because she was supposed to be gone. Wait…

He freezes a moment.

“Did you know she was alive?” He asks out loud. He can see that Cassandra is confused. His grip falters a second.

Of course I knew, Percival…

The hand holding the gun starts shaking. He doesn’t know why. But it does. Betrayal erupts again in his chest, and it hurts almost as much as Cassandra’s did. It floods through him like a cleansing fire.

Cassandra had no choice. Orthax however…

“Was her name supposed to be on the gun?”

Get your revenge, Percival. She deserves it.

The hand gets steadier again. The tunnel vision comes back and smoke billows from his eyes again. But this time, the knowledge is enough. Percy shoves back.

“Answer me!” He shouts. Cassandra takes a step back.

Yes. I knew of her betrayal, and I knew that you wouldn’t accept it. So I hid it until you were ready… Now KILL HER!

No. No, no, no. Percy shoves himself back, forces himself to take a step back. The gun is shaking now, greatly, and he knows he doesn’t have enough control. Orthax can still pull the trigger.

“Run!” He shouts at his sister. “Cass, run!”

She looks at him, stares in confusion. “What-”

“For the love of Pelor, PLEASE, RUN, NOW!” He screams, and forces another step back.

Orthax pulls the trigger and the shot goes wide, but Cassandra’s eyes widen.

“Percy… I’m sorry…” She still isn’t running. What will get her to run?

Orthax’s claws sink into Percy’s soul and the pain is greater than anything he has experienced before. His eyes water, but the liquid is not clear. It’s red. He’s crying blood. He’s breaking.

Another shot fires. It hits closer to Cassandra this time. She’s frozen in place.

“Cass… Cass please…” He begs, voice twisted from the agony of resisting Orthax. “Please go. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Cassandra’s hand goes down, her rapier hits the ground and she starts running. Percy doesn’t manage to take a step back. Orthax laughs in his ear, triomphant, and another shot fires.

Cassandra screams in pain. Orthax laughs. Percy screams.

Her body stumbles to the ground and the name disappears from the barrel of the gun. The gun is warm in his hand, his eyes are still crying blood and he feels something breaking, over and over again as she seizes. There’s blood everywhere, a sea of crimson, that’s all he can see.

She stops moving. Percy’s heart stops beating for a moment. He dies with her there, until Orthax brings him back to life. Until he’s forced to watch her body be turned over by his own foot, prisoner of his own skull. She’s gone. Her eyes are open but the light is gone, they’re glassy and hideous.

The hand brings the gun up. In the place of the names he spent years thinking of killing, new ones have appeared. Keyleth. Father Reynal. Keeper Yennen. Simon Whisk.

His eyes open in the darkness of the room he inhabits in the castle. His hands are red with blood, and so is most of his clothing. He doesn’t know where the red is from. He doesn’t care to go look for what he’s done when he wasn’t in control.

Orthax laughs in his mind.

#perc'ahlia #fic #vaxilmore #vaxmore #keyleth #vox machina #critical role

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ourquicksilvered · 4 years

Text

Fake Love

Bucky x Black!Reader

warnings: Smut

Bucky still isn’t trusted by civilians and the media also paints him out to be an unforgivable villain. Luckily Tony has a solution.

"No, I can't just ask her that. It's awkward and I'm not completely sure if I want to do this myself." I hear Bucky say as I walk into the lounge.

He, Steve and Sam were sitting in the common area couch in the middle of the room with Tony. On the television in front of them was yet another stupid tv host talking about Avenger gossip and how Bucky is apparently evil itself. Honestly it drove me crazy how they'd just drag his name through the mud like they knew him or as though he was in his right mind as the Winter Soldier.

"Why're y'all watching this shit?" I roll my eyes, walking into the connecting kitchen to fix myself a glass of minute maid lemonade.

"I was just explaining to Bucky that people really believe this bullshit and that it wouldn't hurt if we created some good PR for him." Tony explained.

While Sam and Steve looked like they completely disagreed with Tony, Bucky looked on the fence about it. But Tony did have a point. It's worked somewhat for Clint and Natasha as far as people accepting the fact that they were formerly assassins.

"I agree. I mean it's helped Clint and Nat. And since Wanda started going to school, people look at her as a normal-ish teen." I shrugged and took a seat next to Sam.

"But wait til he tells you how he wants to create good PR." Steve says crossing his arms.

"I was thinking you two could fake date. Or at least spend a lot more time together so the people can see that it's not just his childhood best friend that likes and trusts him." Tony says casually and I look at him like he’s grown a third head and laugh.

"That is the most cliché thing I've ever heard. Like sum' out of a cheesy rom com. Why can’t Nat do it? She's the "sexiest female avenger".”

To be honest it did bother me a little that Natasha was declared the sexiest because even though I'm very confident in myself, I realize that Natasha with her flawless white skin, curves, and thickness, she fits America's fucked up beauty standards and not me with my brown skin, locs and lean frame.

"Y/n it was just Cosmo that said that and plus Nat hasn't entirely redeemed herself in the people's eyes. Then Wanda is too young, which leaves you." Tony says and I roll my eyes.

"But not only are you incredibly beautiful, but you're the most followed on social media and the 'bad girl' on the team according to Allure. Which all makes you perfect for this. You could make Bucky likable." Tony explains trying to save his ass while still finding a way to subtly insult Bucky.

I know he was only doing this for the sake of the team and hasn’t really forgiven Bucky himself.

"Don't pressure her Stark," Bucky rolls his eyes, "Y/N you don't have to do this."

"Whatever. I'm single, could use a few free meals." I shrug, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.

"I'll have to think about it some more." Bucky shrugs and I nod.

"I can't believe you guys are agreeing to this." Sam shakes his head laughing.

———————————-

I grip the sheets tighter and my back arches as my lover sends me to my climax. Once a slight moan escapes my mouth, he covers my mouth.

"You gotta be a good girl and stay quiet for me." He whispers with a devilish smirk.

I pull him up to my level by his hair and purr into ear, "But you and I both know I'm not a good girl."

This gets him even more turned on, causing him to roughly throw my leg over his shoulder go rougher.

"I do know that. Just like I know that this belongs to me and me only." He whispers, thrusting with each word.

It takes everything in me to hold in my moans, especially after he flips me over and takes me from behind, gripping my shoulder tightly. He then grabs my neck, choking me a bit as he pushes it down into the pillow. He relentlessly pounds into me, quickly bringing us almost to our climax but pulls out, laying on his back.

"Bring it on home." My lover says, pulling me onto his lap.

I ride him like a bat out of hell, determined to get us both off.

"Shit." He grips my waist while he hits his climax, me following suit.

I roll off of Bucky slightly panting and lay on my side after yet another night of our mind blowing sex. I put some distance between us, needing to cool down. Unbeknownst to the rest of our team -except maybe Steve- Bucky and I have been sleeping with each other for months.

We decided that it’d work out perfectly considering that he doesn't feel like he's mentally ready or himself enough to be in a relationship, and I myself am afraid of commitment. The perfect match...I guess. Of course, with Bucky being the charming, sweet guy that he is, and with me truly enjoying conversation with him, I've gained feelings that I'm not even sure are reciprocated.

I could actually imagine being committed to him, but I’m tired of his reserved nature outside the bedroom. You wouldn't really guess that Bucky was remotely interested in me other than a few sneaky glances at me and slight conversation in front of others when he has to, like this afternoon. But in bed, he's the sweetest person and we’ve shared secrets that no one on the team even knows.

While I do have my other secret affairs with other men, there’s something about Bucky that’s just different. I know that I could commit to him in a monogamous relationship but considering that that’s not even what he wants right now, I guess there’s nothing to worry about. I guess my fear is him getting tired of me. I'm slowly getting frustrated with this little game of hot and cold, that part of me is hoping that with this 'fake' dating, he'd finally become consistent in his feelings for me.

"So Buck, what do you really think about this whole publicity stunt?" I innocently ask, running my fingers down his chest.

He takes a deep breath, while I hold mine dreading his answer.

"I don't really think it's a good idea. Someone might gain feelings." Bucky sighs, bringing his hand up to his forehead.

Maybe I’m just being sensitive but I felt like that was him insinuating that I would be the one to gain feelings for him that wouldn’t be returned. I hold back the tears forming in my eyes at the rejection and thank the darkness for masking it.

"Buck, if it's you being afraid that I'll gain feelings, I can assure you that I won't. I mean the sex with you is great-- mind-blowing even. But I do still see other men that can do it just as well." I slightly lie. I mean I do have other lovers which is no secret to him but the sex isn’t nearly as great with any of them.

Moving to get out of bed so I could look for my clothes, I suddenly stop as he holds onto my wrist.

"They can give you the same? Even though you tell me how your body is mine? Or how loud you moan for me and how wet you get for me?" He asks, moving closer to me and placing a hand on the small of my back.

"Yeah, in bed you're incredible. But outside of it, it's different--we're different. We don't fit and that's okay cos there’s no worry of things getting complicated." I choose my words wisely, as I look up at him pulling away from him and putting my underwear on.

"I'm pretty sure you know how well I fit in you." He looks down at me and smirks but then pauses for a second, thinking.

"You know what, let's do it. If you think you won’t gain feelings. But no more sex after tonight." He says seriously reaching out to shake on it.

"I could say the same for you Barnes." I smirk shaking his hand and letting him pull me back into bed for the last time.

———————

Today is day one of Tony's masterplan. He believed that in order to make this whole thing believable, Bucky and I can't seem like we're suddenly in a relationship.

1) Phase one be seen with each other casually hanging out and slight flirting.

2) Phase two start posting mysterious videos and photos on social media of just the two of us.

3) Only after it's speculated that we’re together, be a bit touchier in public and neither confirm nor deny it until Tony gets me an interview with a major pop culture news outlet.

It seemed simple enough. Bucky thought this whole thing was being taken way too seriously but he also didn't know about today's pop culture.

"You ready, Y/n?" Bucky asks in a bored tone from the other side of my door, breaking me from my thoughts.

He didn't seem too enthused about being seen together out in public acting cutesy. Of course it kinda stung, because this was something that I expect of my other flings. I thought of all people, Bucky wouldn’t be ashamed of me. But at least this shows me that I really couldn't have anything deeper with Bucky. I deserve a man that would proudly show me off. It's funny how that after we start the fake dating is when slowly but surely I'm getting over him.

"One sec!" I call out, slipping on my black ankle boots and then straightening my outfit.

I was getting ready for our first outing and wasn't sure what to wear because I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. I finally decided on a black, lace bralette with a red flannel shirt tied over it and tucked into a pair of black jeans.

"Ready." I say walking out into the hallway.

Bucky was leaning against the opposite wall, looking me up and down before smirking. The man looked like a tall glass of water in his black jeans, Timberland boots, and simple white T. Once Sam and I showed Bucky and Steve how men from Brooklyn dress today, Bucky feel in love with the typical Brooklyn style. I look down, feeling my face heat up. I hate that he had this effect on me, without even having to use words...Of course he was only smirking at me and undressing me with his eyes because it was just us two in the hall. I pull myself together and put on my sunglasses, trying to hide the fact that I was drooling over the man.

"So, what did Stark plan for us today?" He asks pushing off the wall.

"He suggested that you maybe give me a tour of Coney Island, you buy me ice cream, I laugh at your jokes and we subtly flirt." I say, holding my hand out to him.

"Sounds good to me, I guess." He shrugs and holds onto my hand with his flesh one so that I could teleport the two of us to Brooklyn.

Upon arrival, we immediately let go of each other and I fake shyly look away, but really scoping out our surroundings.

"There's a teen video taping us on his phone." I say lowly to Bucky, holding onto his metal arm flirtatiously.

He nods, looking down at me and biting his lip.

I'd be lying if I told you that that small action didn't make my heart hammer in my chest. Rather than looking for the teen, he takes my word for it and moves closer to me as we walk around, looking for something to do. He begins to show me around, telling me some of the things that he and Steve used to do back in the day and the places where Steve often got beaten up.

"Is that the Cyclone? It's still here?" Bucky asks incredulously, looking at the massive roller coaster in front of him.

"Yeah, Steve told me about your Cyclone misadventure where he threw up on your shoes." I say laughing slightly.

I loved when Steve told me stories about him and Bucky, it seemed to be when he was happiest.

"I remember that! Poor punk couldn't handle all the dips," He pauses, "Have you ever ridden it?"

"Hell no! That thing is ancient!" I exclaim pointing at the ride, causing people to stare.

"C'mon, is the badass avenger scared of heights?" Bucky teases.

I wish I could take a picture of this moment. Where he's smirking down at me with his eyes full of mischief.

I sigh heavily looking into his lively blue eyes, "Okay, I'll do it."

He practically drags me to the line.

--------

"I still can't believe the Cyclone still exists." Bucky shakes his head smiling.

"I still can't believe you talked me into going on it." I say shivering at the idea that I actually went on a roller coaster from the early 1900s.

"You looked so--" Bucky begins but gets cut off by a crowd of paparazzi that just seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Y/n! Are you and the Winter Soldier dating?" One pap asks, intruding my personal space.

Bucky instinctively puts his arm around me and pulls me close.

"Y/n are you not scared to be dating a former assassin?" Another one asks, getting a little too close as well.

"Hey, Buck? Wanna jus' continue this at the compound?" I ask not so subtly, letting the paparazzi to assume we're dating.

I could tell the questions hit a nerve with him, so the second he nodded I teleported is back to the compound. He pulls away as soon as we get there, causing me to frown but I quickly recover. Slowly but surely I know I will be getting over Bucky and his wishy washy behavior.

I didn't even bother to ask if he was alright as I walk back to my room. I flopped down onto my bed wondering why in the hell did I agree to do this thinking that he'd miraculously fall for me.

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

I realized by the second week of this fake dating that our relationship wasn't going to be the same. He was so afraid of me gaining feelings that he touched me a lot less unless we were in front of a camera, and then he started talking to me less. I constantly found myself questioning why I was still playing along with this fake dating when all it does is create heartbreak and now I have to go do my interview tomorrow morning, pretending that everything is fine and I'm head over heels for him.

Which reminds me that I have to post this obviously staged photo that Tony took of me and Bucky passed out on the couch together. If it weren't so fake, it'd be the cutest moment.

——————————

Steve Rogers was always observant. He was always the first to notice if someone did something different with their hair, if something wasn't in its usual spot or if someone was acting out of character. So it came as no surprise that Steve was able to notice that something wasn't right between you and Bucky. Of course he knew you two had been sleeping together which is why he disagreed with the whole plan, not wanting either of you to get hurt. He also knew that Bucky really and truly liked you and sometimes wouldn't even shut up about you although he'd never reveal that to you. Bucky was afraid that he wasn't good for you and was trying to push you away but Steve decided that he's not going to let his best friend ruin what might be his only shot at love with an incredible woman like you.

He marched right up to Bucky's door, pausing when he heard something being thrown against the room.

"You okay pal?" Steve asks, after knocking on the door.

In seconds, it was opened showing a disheveled looking Bucky. Bucky sighs, opening his door for Steve and letting him in.

"I'm fine, Steve." Bucky runs his hands through his hair, flopping into his bed but Steve rolls his eyes knowing obviously something was up.

"It's whatever's going on between you and Y/n isn't it? This is why I didn't want you guys doing this in the first place." Steve says after closing the door behind him.

"I only agreed to it because I wanted to sort of test out if I really could be with her. If she’d want to be with me." Bucky explains, flopping onto his bed, dejected.

"And?" Steve crosses his arms.

"I'm not good enough for her Steve. She's even said how 'we're not good for each other'. And she's right deserves someone that people aren’t afraid of. The past two weeks people have constantly asked how she isn't afraid of hurt her and—" Bucky continues but Steve cuts him off.

"Obviously it doesn't matter what they say or think. And you and I both know that the reason you two don't 'fit' is because you push her away and give her the cold shoulder. Everyone sees that Buck." Steve says taking a seat on the edge of Bucky's bed.

"So what do I do now? After this interview, she's free to dump me and move on. Which may be for the best." Bucky sighs, mentally getting angry with himself for being so emotional.

"Buck you know you won't be able to get over her just like that. The second she starts seeing other people what will you do then?" Steve asks, looking at his pitiful looking friend.

"You're right, I'll talk to her tomorrow."

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

So far the interview was going great, we'd danced, played charades, talked a bit about what it's like to be an Avenger and a Mutant and now we were onto Never Have I Ever.

"Okay never have I ever slept with another Avenger." The interviewwe smirks as the crowd cheers.

I embarrassingly look down knowing all of my relatives watch this show and turned my sign over to 'I Have'.

The crowd cheers even louder and I shake my head laughing.

"Oooh who was it? Does he or she have a name that starts with B and rhymes with Tucky?"

"Um.... more like it was Thor." I said with a completely serious look on my face and shocking the audience before cracking.

"Okay, yes it was Bucky. Sorry love." I say looking into the camera with a smirk.

"How was it?" She asks with a smirk while I hide my face in my hands.

I deserve an Oscar for my acting. You’d never tell that I was up all night crying over Bucky’s punk ass the night before.

"I'll have to tell you sometime when I know my mom isn't watching." I laugh, shaking my head.

"But all joking aside, are you two really dating?" She asks, showing paparazzi pictures on the screen.

I was getting ready to answer when I felt a presence behind me. Before I could even answer, the presence behind me yelled 'boo' and started tickling me in places not many people knew I was ticklish. I embarrassingly spazz out and fall out of my chair with tears in my eyes to see that it was Bucky who was tickling me with his flesh hand but held a bouquet of flowers in the metal one.

"Bucky! I hate you!" I tease, hopping up and playfully punching him as he nervously laughs.

"We both know that you don't." He says quietly to where only I could hear and then gives me the flowers.

I look at him in brief confusion as I take the flowers from him and the audience aws.

"We need to talk after the show." He mutters very low, placing his metal hand in the small of my back and kissing my cheek.

"So I guess that answers my question." Ellen says, as I sit back down.

"Yeah we'd been dating a little over a month actually." I smile, crossing my legs.

"Well give us the details! How'd you start dating? What is it like dating the Winter Soldier?" She asks all at once.

"I'm gonna cut you off right there. I'm dating Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier. When he was the Winter Soldier he was tortured, brainwashed and unable to make his own decisions and now that he's better and tryin’ to find himself again there's all these shitty people around judgin' him and not allowing him to move the hell on." I rant crossing my arms and rolling my eyes.

"I'm really sorry that he has to go through that." Ellen said after a moment of silence.

"Yeah me too. Bucky is a little rough around the edges but he can really be sweet and super loyal. Funny too." I say a bit chuckling to myself thinking about his cracks on Sam.

-----------

After the show, I walk offstage and my smile is immediately gone from my face and replaced with worry. What could Bucky possibly have to say to me?

I walk into my dressing room and there he is on the couch, running his hands through his hair.

“Buck, you okay?” I put my flowers on the dresser and lean against it to keep distance between us.

“No, it isn’t. I fucked up.” He replies, looking up at me and seeing the confusion on my face, he continues,“I was never afraid of you gaining feelings. Hell, I thought that after all this, maybe you’d finally feel the same about me. But I’ve done nothing but push you away because I was scared.”

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say. I mean I did feel the same but now I don’t know. I can’t play this game of hot and cold anymore. I’m not sure if my feelings will change but for now, I think the best solution is to just be friends.” I answer honestly, giving him a hug.

#bucky x black!reader #bucky x reader #fake love #black avenger #Avengers #Bucky Barnes #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x black!reader #Winter Soldier

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Text

Grown & SeXY - Chapter 1

Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr

For @youbloodymadgenius for your 400 Followers Writing Challenge. Congrats on your success!

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Mature OC

Warning: Language/mild angst/Sexual content

Rating: M

Summary: A relationship between Generations X & Y will help this XX & XY learn a lot about themselves, each other, and love. Cougar/cub relationships aren’t always just about a midlife crisis and arm candy.

A/N: I got the concept for this story from a conversation I was having with @youbloodymadgenius. I hope I do it justice. This story is for you!

Chapter 1

Oh, hey girl, hey!

Chile, do I have some tea to spill!

This tea is piping hot, lemon-honey, tea with a hint of peppermint; that’s how good it is. I have been keeping this in for so long, I’m surprised a bitch hasn’t bit her tongue off trying to keep quiet. But, I have to talk to somebody about this, and I trust you, girl. We’ve been good girlfriends for a long time now. I know you’re not going to say anything to anybody, right? I didn’t think so. I knew you were cool.

Okay, so before we begin I need to lay some ground rules. I don’t want to get into this and all of sudden you start feeling some type of way or something, or there be some sort of misunderstanding that we could have settled right here in the beginning. You know how some people get all uppity and shit.

First, I’m not a writer - I’m a storyteller and there’s a big fucking difference. Writers, write; they use language as an art form, and shit like grammar and diction is important to them and they usually use them pretty accurately. Storytellers, like me? We don’t give a fuck. We paint pictures by speaking the language of the people, so that the bitches in the back can understand what the fuck is going on.

So, if you don’t want to know about how a bad-ass cougar found herself hooked up with a fucking snack-tastic cub from someone who doesn’t give a fuck all about ending a sentence with a preposition, then, honey, feel free to read something else. If my language is a bit too common or colorful for you, then mayhaps, I could recommend some really well-written Shakespearean Sonnets or the like, by some other real writers. But if you just want to dish and hear some good shit, then bitch, do I have some gossip to tell you!

Okay, next, the story I’m about to tell you is true. This shit is real and it happened to me my friend. So, to protect my good girlfriend, I’m going to change the names of the mofos involved. If that means the names of these folks sound made up, it’s because bitch, they are! It’s not like where we live is all that big. You might actually know some of these people and the last thing I want is for you to go run-and-tell-that I said some shit, about so-and-so, when I really didn’t, because I said something else about some bitch that I made up.

Um, what else? Oh yeah, everything I’m going to tell you is the gospel, according to me. Even if I wasn’t there, I have been working, like fucking Luther out here in these streets, to piecing this shit together and this is the only version that makes sense. So if you disagree, fine...fight me. But you better not ask them; that’s all I know. We’ve already established the good girlfriend code of conduct. Right?

Now, if any of this shit starts to sound familiar to you just nod your head and play along. If you happen to see these people in real-life, just keep going about your business, like you don’t know anything. Don’t give them a side-eye, or raise the obligatory eyebrow when you see them. Definitely don’t be like that bitch Shelly that time I told her that stuff about Erik and Angie. Do you know that bitch put everybody on blast and was like, “I knew he looked the type to eat booty,” all loud and shit in the Target.

You can’t be telling the church’s business to the entire Target like that! You are supposed to see them in the store, nod, and keep it fucking moving. What I’m telling you ain’t nobody’s business and they definitely don’t need to know that you know all the shit that went down with them. You know what? Matter of fact, I’m going to send you a non-disclosure contract in your email. Just sign it and send it back. I don’t want zero problems, big fella.

Okay, now that we got the formalities out of the way, and everybody knows how the fuck to act, what’s next? Why am I giving you the gossip? I’m doing this shit to save your life, bitch because I care. See, this is a story about being grown and sexy. Yes, bitch! Say it again! GROWN & SEXY!!! And we all will be grown and sexy, one day.

I know, you probably think grown & sexy means all about getting the “D”. Well, it is…but not really. Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to get to that. There will be plenty of pipe laid. How the hell can you be grown & sexy without some feel good? But, it’s about a movement - a way of life. It’s a phase you go through when you get to a point where you are living your best life and just don’t give a fuck anymore.

Listen Linda, this story here, isn’t just about sex, it’s about timing. See, look at all the young bitches, rolling their eyes. They just want to hit it and quit it. I can’t with them. I’m not even addressing them and their foolishness. In fact, all the young bitches, y’all can feel free to exit - stage left, please.

The rest of us, that are past all that thotting and trotting, we know that the universe has a fucked up sense of humor and it only gives us these short ass life spans, filled with teeny-tiny windows of opportunity to cram all of this amazing shit into. Then, on one side, we have one cosmic force presenting something fantastic, while another on the other side, there is another force that throws mad shade. Of course, we pay attention to the shady shit and usually miss out on that brief moment of something that could have made us really fucking happy. Don’t worry, I’m not about to start talking about astrology, or reading crystals. Besides my horoscope, I don’t know what any the fuck any of that means.

What it means to what the fuck I’m talking about is, this could be considered a cautionary tale about missed opportunities, or being so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you can’t see a good thing when it was right in front of you. It’s definitely about family, growing up, acceptance and happiness; about finding and loving yourself and then being able to show that love to someone else.

Of course, you can’t have all that good shit without the bad. So, let’s see…I’ll throw in some insecurities, doubt, utter stupidity, realizing that just because something looks and feels good, doesn’t mean it’s right. Hell, my story this story, may even be about having to break your own heart to save someone else’s. Ah, we’ll see if I can actually get to that part. It’s not I got all damn day, you know?

So…where do I begin?

Oh, okay. You know that club, Bottom’s Up, on the corner of Fourth and Lexington? The one with that has the pool tables on the upper level and that cute little Karaoke room? Well that’s where all this shit started…

There were a lot of people at Bottom’s Up for a Wednesday night.

Ivar already had an attitude because he was late. He knew that showing up even a few minutes late for the weekly pool game with his siblings meant that he wouldn’t get to pick his opponent and if he got stuck playing against Bjorn one more time, he was going to quit showing up to these fucking games all together.

He hated playing Bjorn. No matter what he tried, he could never beat his oldest brother. Most of the time, he never even got a chance to get his cue on the table when he played against him. If he had any other sibling as his opponent, he stood a fair chance of winning, but he was sure that Bjorn cheated. It was enough to piss him off just thinking about it.

Ivar glanced at the small landing where the pool tables were and saw the five varying shades of blonde hair just as the top of the stairs. Damn, they were all already there. They had probably already picked games, meaning he was going to have another shitty night at shooting pool. There went his chance of getting back the money Sigurd took off of him last week. He needed that money, too. He was running low on gas and his brakes started making a loud squeaking sound this morning. Now, if he could just play against Ubbe...he knew for sure he could double their bet and make all of his money back, and then some.

Deciding to get a drink before he met his family upstairs, he made his way to the bar, and signaled for the bartender. While he waited he carefully tried to remove his jacket without bumping into anyone. Where the fuck did all these people come from? They had been coming to this lounge for a few months and on Wednesdays there were never more than 25 people in there. It wasn’t like it was wall-to-wall people in there now, but it was definitely enough to make him feel annoyed.

Plus, all those extra people were making it hot in there. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn a long sleeve t-shirt, after all. But with all the rain and cold nights, lately, he wasn’t quite sure how to dress. The shirt, a thin pale blue cotton, was a deep V-neck, showing the top of his muscular pecs and just a hint of his shoulder tat that trailed over to the center of his chest, was tucked lazily into the front of his distressed, blue jeans and left hanging out of the back. A pair of brown Timberland shoes completed his outfit, giving him that ‘I’m not trying too hard to look like I’m trying to look good’, look. Believe me, he wore it well.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked walking over to where Ivar stood, pouring beers from the tap for other patrons further down the bar.

“Can I get a Jame…,” As soon as he started talking he heard a feminine voice coming from his left. He stopped mid-sentence and looked to see where the voice was coming from, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said smiling at the shorter woman next to him. When she turned her head toward him and offered him a smile, his posture changed. “I didn’t see you. Please, go ahead.”

She raised her brows and continued smiling at him, “Thanks.” Man, he was a cutie, but she was sent to the bar for drinks, not dicks. Turning back to face the bartender, she restarted her order, “Um, I need a Johnny Walker Blue, a Malibu and Pineapple, and a Captain & Diet.” She turned back to him and bowed, a sign for him to continue with his order.

“I’ll just take a Jameson,” Ivar told the bartender. When he turned back to the woman, he noticed she had turned away from him and was looking at her phone. As casually as he could, he leaned his head to the side to get a look at her full body. She couldn’t have been more than 5’3”, even with the heel on those boots. She had a great complexion, the chartreuse wrap shirt with bell sleeves brought the olive tones out in her caramel skin and softened her chocolate eyes. And of course, Ivar wondered how in the hell did a woman with an ass and hips that size and a waist that small, found jeans that fit. He found himself raising his brow at the thought.

This was awkward. He wanted to say something to her, but she didn’t seem to notice that he was even standing there. He couldn’t remember a time in recent history when a woman didn’t notice him, or when he had to start a conversation. What exactly was he supposed to say, anyway? If he wasn’t drunk or being pursued, he wasn’t quite sure how this was supposed to go.

Just why wasn’t she trying to talk to him, anyway? He looked good tonight, he just got his hair cut and this was a new shirt. The silver herringbone necklace and the pale blue of his shirt, made his eyes look more of a steel blue, which he thought was the most attractive on him. He smelled good - he had taken some cologne out of his father’s bathroom and claimed it as his own. It smelled good on his dad, so he knew it smelled good on him. What the hell was this lady’s problem?

“I’m sorry, but I think I know you from somewhere.” The woman spoke, pulling Ivar out of his head for a moment. When he turned to face her, she was facing him with her hand on her hip and her brows were knitted together, as she tried to think. “Oh my God, that sounded like a line, didn’t it? I swear, it’s not. You just look so familiar.”

Ivar chuckled. For a minute there he thought he was losing his touch. “No, it doesn’t sound like a line at all.” He easily rested his arm on the bar, as he turned to face her, shortening the distance them. “I’m sure I would remember meeting someone as beautiful as you before.”

Her eyes widened uncomfortably, as she tried to take a half step back before she bumped into the stool next to her. She turned to see what she had bumped into before turning back to him. He was cute and all, but that’s not why she started talking to him. What was with guys these days? “Aww, thanks. That’s really sweet, but…”

“I’m sure, not half as sweet as you are,” Ivar licked his bottom lip, and his long lashes blinked over his beautiful blue eyes, momentarily catching her off guard.

“Oh, honey,” she dared to reach out and touch him. Damn, he had a nice arm. She could feel the large expanse of his bicep flex under her hand as her fingers drummed against it, “I’m sure I have shoes older than you.”

Ivar shrugged. What did that have to do with anything? “You’re only as old as you feel…”

“Hey,” Another masculine voice came from behind them, followed by a swift smack to the back of Ivar’s head, “you buying for everyone?” Ivar rolled his eyes before he turned around to face his brother. Narrowing his eyes at the older, taller man, he cursed the fact that they were related.

“Oh. My. God!” The woman next to Ivar said shifting her weight to one hip with a huge smile on her face. If Ivar thought she was pretty before, she was absolutely beautiful when she gave a genuine smile. “Bjorn Ragnarsson?”

“Soli?” Bjorn made this weird groaning sound as he bent down and picked the small woman up from the floor, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Oh my, God! I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?”

Who the hell was this woman and how the hell did she know his brother? Ivar stood back watching the scene unfold and tried to stop his lip from curling. “I’m good! We just moved back a little over a year ago. How are you, BJ? How’s your family?”

“We’re good. My parents are still in the neighborhood.” Bjorn tried his best not to smile at the look on Ivar’s face, “Everybody else is doing fine. And I see you’ve found Baby Ivey here?”’

“Nooooooo!” she shrieked, cheeks turning red, “This is Baby Ivey?” She held her hand down by her knee to the height she remembered him as a toddler, then looking up at the sexy man that towered over her now, “Little Ivar Ragnarsson…well fuck me. That’s why you look so familiar.” This time she patted his thigh in what she hoped was in a platonic fashion. “I know you don’t remember me, but I was really good friends with your sister.” She chuckled when he shook his head, “I think you went to school with my son, too. Miguel Larson.”

Miguel Larson? Who the hell was Miguel Larson? The only Larson he knew from high school was this annoying, skinny kid who was into anime… “Wait, Mani Larson?” No fucking way. Did she just nod? She was Mani Larson’s mom? Mani Larson was only like two years younger than him. What was happening here? There was no way in hell that this woman had a kid his age.

“Yeah, bro. Me, Soli & Gyda all went to high school together. She even turned me down when I asked her to my senior prom.” Bjorn placed his hand over his heart and pouted his lip as if he was hurt.

Shaking her head, Soli reached over and squeezed Bjorn’s chest as he flexed under his shirt for her. She opened her mouth in shock and appreciation, “Oh, my God. I know right? How drunk was I? What the fuck was wrong with me?”

Could Bjorn’s grin get any bigger? He was enjoying this. He could read Ivar’s body language from upstairs when he saw him at the bar. He just knew from the way he was standing down there, that instead of being upstairs with the family, his brother was trying to push up on some girl at the bar. That’s the only reason that he came downstairs to fuck with him. But, not only did Bjorn get to run into an old friend, he also got to cock-block his little brother. The gods were smiling on him today. “Soli and Gyda were cheerleaders when I was on the football team.”

“How is Gyda?” Soli asked, turning to the bar to push her drinks closer to her and slide the bartender her credit card. She missed the little eye exchange between the brothers in the process.

Bjorn turned around to scan the raised platforms where the pool tables were, “She’s here, actually. We come here for our weekly pool game. She would die to see you.”

“Okay. Let me take this stuff over to my girls, and I’ll come up and find you guys in a few.” Hugging him one more time and squeezing his arms for good measure, Soli shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe I ran into you, BJ. It’s so good to see you.” She turned around to face Ivar who was standing there watching his brother and what he had hoped was going to be his conquest for the evening chatting it up like two girlfriends, “It was nice to see you again, too, Ivar.” She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed for him, or humiliated for herself, at the moment.

“Yeah, you too, Mrs. Larson.” Mrs. Larson…what the fuck? He just wanted to leave out the bar and come back in to start the night over.

She held up a finger to him to stop him from calling her that hideous name, “I haven’t been Mrs. Larson in a very long time. I’m just Marisol,” She tilted her head in such a way that her hair covered part of her face hiding her blush. “But you can call me, Sonni, or Soli. Whatever,” she shrugged, and tucked her top lip between teeth at the sight of his smile.

Why were they making these young boys so goddamn cute these days? If they didn’t stop, or if she didn’t get laid soon, she was going have to call the people on herself. She had known this boy when he was an infant.

That meant he was around her son’s age, and Mani was what 21-22? So Ivar was born right around the time she graduated from high school? That was illegal somewhere, right? Yeah, he was of age. But, whose age? Mani’s? Oh that was just nasty.

What the hell did she have in common with a boy that young? Hot, sweaty, animal sex… but other than that? She was so past that stage in her life.

No, what she was going to do was go back to her table and enjoy her happy hour, and just before she left for the night, she would go up and see Gyda. She would be staying far the fuck away from this little snack, right there. She was not going to allow herself to think about whether or not he was old enough to have chest hair, yet, or what that clean-shaven face felt like rubbing against her thighs.

Ivar could have sworn he swore he saw Soli blush, as she collected her drinks and made her way back to her corner of the lounge. What in the hell just happened? Fucking Bjorn, “You dick,” Ivar grabbed his drink and followed behind his brother up the stairs, “What the fuck was that? She turned me down for the prom…”

Bjorn laughed his way up toward the three tables he and his siblings commandeered. “You big mad, bro?” He grabbed his little brother by the shoulders and squeezed lovingly. Parading Ivar in front of his siblings, he patted his cheek like a child, “I did you a favor. She would break your heart, balls, and everything else. That, my friend, is not for you.” He turned Ivar to face the direction of Soli’s table, of which they had a clear view. “Guys, Lil’ Man here, thinks he can handle Marisol Peña,” Bjorn pointed in the direction of the petite, curvy brunette, dancing at the table, sipping on a cocktail through a straw.

“Sonni? My Marisol?” Gyda asked, turning to look at Ivar, “Ivey, Sonni’s my age.”

Bjorn nodded, “Exactly. That, is a grown-ass woman. You, are still a young Thunder Cat.”

“You sure about that?” Were they all fucking crazy? Did they know about him? There was a reason he earned the moniker Ivar “The Boneless” in college: when his third leg came out, that shit was 100% pure muscle! If he was given the chance, he would fuck that forty-something-year-old woman back into her twenties. “Just because you ain’t never had no game, don’t mean that I don’t.”

“Bitch, please,” Bjorn said picking up his beer taking a big swallow. “You ain’t had pussy, since it had you.”

Ivar could feel himself getting irritated. It was Bjorn’s fault that he was sitting up there being heckled by them instead of at the bar still talking to Soli. Plus, he hated when he was the butt of their jokes and they were all laughing at him. Even Hvitserk was smiling around his hot wings, and he could tell Ubbe was trying to keep a straight face. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Gyda, but she was too busy shooting Bjorn a look that pleaded with him to stop teasing him.

“Beege…you married every bitch you fucked. That ain’t game, brah. That’s being a whipped, bitch.” Ivar raised his glass to his brother before slamming the entire drink down his throat. “Now are we gonna play or what?” Grabbing a pool cue off the wall rack, and rolled his eyes. “I’m calling game…Ubbe? You feel like getting your ass beat?”

For the rest of the night, he tried to act disinterested in what was going on at the table below them, but the truth was every so often, he found himself glancing down to the floor to see if she was still down there or if she was finally on her way up to where they were sitting. There were quite a few times where they caught each other’s eye, peeking over the railing to see if what the other one was doing. Each time it happened, they would both smile and turn away.

Ivar didn’t know what it was about her that had him so interested. Maybe it was because no one thought that he could, or maybe it was just because she was beautiful. Whatever it was, she was a challenge, and he liked it. This wasn’t going to be the last time Ivar talked to Soli. He was going to make sure of that.

Alright, so there you have it. That’s how we they met. I know, it was just enough to wet your whistle, but I’m just going to let you chew on that tasty little tidbit for a minute. You know I gotta leave you wanting to come back for more, honey...

But seriously, though, I gotta run. But, we’re going to talk again soon. I gotta tell you about what happened when Marisol told her son that she ran into Ivar. Chiiiillllleeee....

Master List

Chapter 2

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson @mooniemouse @didiintheblog @waiting4inspiration @tempt-ress @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue @oddsnendsfanfics @geekandbooknerd @ivarthebloodyking @honestsycrets @xbellaxcarolinax @zuxiezendler @inforapound

#alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex hogh andersen #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh fanfiction #viking fanfic #Vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #bjorn ironside #ivar ragnarsson #bjorn ragnarsson #grown & seXY #usershannygoatgruff #shannygoatgruff #shannyland #alex høgh fanfiction #alex høgh andersen fanfiction

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1-800-hellraiser · 4 years

Text

Hit and Run (Hoodie x reader)(Part 2)

Requested by: No one

Pages: 2.6

Words: 909

Genre: Kinda angsty

Associated Song: Hit and Run - Lolo

!Tw! Kidnapping, and swearing

[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[

"All dressed up for a hit and run. Na na na na na na na. All dressed up for a hit and run."

Groaning, you crack open your eyes, you panic, as you don't recognize your surroundings. You try to move your arms and legs, but they're secured together. You're tied down to a chair, you try to call for help, but you cant move your mouth. Your mouth is taped shut. 'What the hell happened last night?' You ponder, struggling against your restraints. You glance around the unfamiliar room and see a pale yellow hoodie hanging up on the wall. That's when it hit you, you were followed home by a person in a ski mask and then got knocked out.

After a few minutes of thrashing and trying to wiggle out of your restraints, someone opened the door. You squint at the light, your eyes not being used to the light. Heavy footsteps make their way around you then to the side of the room. The person flicks on the light, you whip your head at the kidnapper. The man was white with kinda curly light brown hair, grown out quite a bit. He has some facial hair, relatively attractive. He's wearing a plain charcoal colored tee shirt, denim jeans, and Timberland's. The man steps closer to you, and you instinctively flinch back. He gently takes your chin and rips off the tape holding your mouth closed.

"Ow dude! What the fuck?!" You hiss at the burning sensation around your mouth. But hey, at least you don't have to get your lady-stache waxed now. "Where the hell am I?" You question, your eyes never leaving the man. The man doesn't answer your question, instead, the man pulls a big hunting knife out of his pocket and puts it to your throat. You're immediately terrified, eyes widening. The man leans in, "Where the fuck is he?" Man, this dude just dragged you onto an emotional roller coaster, first being angry, then terrified, now confused. "...Who?" "You know damn well who." He hisses in your ear, you shiver. "But I don't," you reply. "He comes in your coffee shop almost everyday, how do you knot know him?" Your mind flicks back to your regulars at the coffee shop. You realize you might know who this guy is talking about. "...You mean Tim?" You ask, with a confused look on your face. The man nods, "Yes, Tim." You realize once again why he's asking, Tim never came into the shop today.

"Now that you mention it, Tim never came into the shop today," you add. The man nods to himself, thinking about something. "Was he there yesterday?" You try and think back to yesterday, face contorting into one of concentration. "Hmmmm, yes. He walk out of the shop after getting his coffee and took a left. I don't know where he went though," you conclude. The man nods his head, reaching for the chair you're seated in. You flinch, and he grabs the rope that's securing your hands. "Stay still," he demands, you halt all movement. You squeeze your eyes shut out of fear, you tense as you hear the flick of a pocket knife. The man is cutting off your restraints, you relax yourself a bit. Once all of your restraints are cut, you look up at the man, confused. "Why did you cut off my restraints?" "Because You're no use to me now," the man answered. Your heart drops and your blood runs cold. "W-What are you going to do with me?" You ask, taking a step back from the man. "Now, you're going to help me find Tim," you feel a rush of relief.

"Oooooh, okay, I thought you were going to kill me," you chuckle, placing a hand on your chest. The man chuckles with you, wiping a tear from his eye from chuckling to hard. "Oh I will, if you tell anyone that you interacted with me that is," he muses, you stop dead. "W-what?" you ask, the man proceeds to circle you. "You see, my dear Y/n, I am part of a special "business", kind of like a mafia, you can't tell anyone about me, or I am required to kill you," the man finishes. You're stuck in the chair, unable to move from fear. "Anyways, you can to help me find Tim, or you die." "I'll help you find Tim," you said, not wanting to die young. The man mumbles 'good' and pulls you up. "Follow me," he says, you tag right be hind him as he leads you to a white van. He gets in the drivers seat and you hop into the passenger's seat. The man pulls out of the cabin driveway, you realize you're in the middle of a forest. "So, what's your name?" you ask, trying to make this less awkward. "I can't tell you, it's classified, but you can call me Hoodie." You nod, agreeing to calling him that.

You don't know where you are, or where you're going, but you have a feeling that this will turn into a good experience.

#ily <3333 #ilysm <333 #<3 <3 <3 #<333 #writer #writers on tumblr #oneshots #creepypasta x reader #Marble Hornets x reader #marble hornets brian #marble hornets hoodie

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nosdreamsrp · 4 years

Photo

› THE MEMBER GROUPS

The member groups found on nostalgic dreams are based on popular fashion brands that you see many wearing on social media. We have four different tiers ( standard, premium, elite & diamond ) and each tier has four different brands within it. Down below you will find our sixteen member groups with traits and simple aesthetics so everyone has an easy fit for their characters!

standard member groups

quirky › uncouth › curious › forgetful

skateboarding or skating in free time › late nights on the beach › blastoff by internet music › chain smoking cigarettes › dirty and torn vans › messy hair › monster energy drinks › winged eyeliner › choppy bangs › sunflower by post malone › white tees x denim jeans › cliff diving at night › bucket hats › cross body fanny packs › reflective colors › flower snapchat filter › sleeping through alarms › fades into the background

irrational › playful › mischievous › bold

strong cologne and perfume › baby showers › strappy heels › bad and boujee by migos › gold grills › natural makeup › straight hair › timberland boots › late night breakfast spots › red hues for accents › suede material › hennessy black › denim x neutral colors › kickback with friends › at fault by medasin & felly › patterns › frappes from starbucks › broken promises › curiosity killed the cat › not so trusting

socially aware › lazy › adventurous › fanatical

all white attire › eating cereal for dinner › going shopping with friends › setting multiple alarms › red bull and vodka › curly hair › frequent visits to art galleries › hoodies and cargos › yamborghini high by a$ap mob › sight-seeing for photo-ops › simple jewelry › hot girl bummer by blackbear › wispy lashes › gold caps › amusement parks on the weekend › rhetorical questions › always the peace makers › cool and comfortable

bourgeoisie › idealistic › know-it-all › persistent

picnics in the park › always has an opinion about something › good as hell by lizzo › chunky sneakers › braided pony-tails › attends charity events › always has a plan › text back in 2 to 3 business days › blazers and combat boots › blurred lines by robin thicke › coffee in the morning › dark hues of color › too smart for their own good › obsessed with coordinating › lover of vanilla scents › minimalistic jewelry

premium member groups

optimistic › selfish › discreet › inconsistent

oversized tees › inconsistent actions › hustle & flow by zaehd & ceo › reads newspaper comics › caffeine over sleep › cross-body bags › social loners › too cool for school › walking snapple facts › where’s my juul?? by full tac & lil mariko › layers clothing › black as an accent › love the smell of flowers › rolled up jeans x thick socks › triple texters › tiny sunglasses › lover of music festivals › fishnet material

manipulative › go-getters › frivolous › spontaneous

clubbing on the weekends › flashing cash in pictures › designer from head to toe › said sum by moneybagg yo › headband accessories › bright color accents › quick money schemes › night owls › face tattoos › oversleeping in the mornings › imma by bbno$ & lentra › prefers facetime over phone calls › silk & satin material › always in large crowds › woodsy and earthy scents › overflow of gold jewelry

nature-focused › oversensitive › cautious › self-indulgent

bonfires on the beach › loose and flowy clothing › too many pillows on the bed › rollin by calvin harris, future and khalid › early nights & mornings › organized planners and journals › brunch on the weekends › straw and fringe material › tiny handbags › vacationing on islands › coffee bean by zaniah › bitter and zesty flavors › beach curls or waves › green is serene › million dollar smiles › dewy skin

temperamental › confident › melodramatic › witty

flavored swishers › jewelry anklets › basketball and football › loads of unread messages › fresh hairstyles › sum 2 prove by lil baby › late night drives › hip hop music on repeat › gamer heads › always texting, never calling › vodka drinkers › durags and dad caps › whats poppin by jack harlow › sleeping in on weekends › wears sunglasses inside › life of the party › knock knock jokes › wake and bakes

elite member groups

whimsical › spoiled › empathetic › irresponsible

their way or the highway › falling asleep on the phone › indecisive about life › dunkin donuts over starbucks › dior by pop smoke › lace and mesh material › 90’s aesthetics › dramatic lashes › easily persuaded › cluttered spaces › layered chains › what they want by russ › takeout over cooking › has a hard time fitting in › mixed prints and patterns › has to be center of attention › silk scarves › floral parfum

judgmental › traditional › evasive › diplomatic

online shopping › distressed jeans › astrology lover › minimalistic vibes › enamel pins and brooches › chanel (go get it) by young thug, gunna and lil baby › handwritten love notes › more logical and practical › hot apple cider with cinnamon › leading the conversation › supalonely by benee & gus dapperton › monochromatic colors › frequents museums › murder mysteries lover › moral sensibility › prefers action over words

meticulous › inconsistent › humble › catty

lover of vintage designers › espresso shots › name plate jewelry › happy by pharrell williams › starts new things but never finish › autumn nights › loves meeting new people › works well under pressure › winged eyeliner › chocolate candy eaters › detailed oriented › instrumental music › cooler than me by mike posner › chunky and platform heels › sand between their toes › loyalty over everything

devious › persuasive › rebellious › flirtatious

take tons of selfies but never post them › bright colors › drinks with umbrellas › snake lovers › demons by drake, fivio foreign and sosa geek › ice cream sundaes › seizes every opportunity › reckless when drunk › smoky eyeshadow › moody by briijean › sweet scents › socks x sandals › drumsticks over flats › compulsive liars › teardrop tattoos › pool party throwers › color blocking aesthetics › impulsive nature

diamond member groups

charming › reserved › innocent › jealous

love diy projects › rom-com lovers › drinking water from a wine glass › my hair free care free › fresh scents › getting caught in the rain › pink matter by frank ocean and andre 3000 › cuddling with a love one › denim on top of denim › blushes easily › singing in the shower › watermelon sugar by harry styles › white button-up shirts › bamboo plants for luck › up before sunrise › mutes the group chats

scatterbrained › imaginative › martyr › resourceful

oversized sunglasses › hard on the outside but mushy on the inside › loves conspiracy theories › would misplace their head if it wasn't attached to their shoulders › mismatched clothing › why don’t i care by gglum › cancelling plans last minute › watching the sun set with friends › sticky and sweet flavors › prefers waking up in the afternoon › thrifted furniture › deep meaningful conversations › earfquake by tyler, the creator › brown and yellow accents

studious › possessive › mature › talkative

hasty when provoked › alternative music › collects artwork and coins › knows more than they should › dream catchers on their walls › read books at coffee shops › bloom by troye sivan › gardens full of produce or flowers › random dance sessions › animal prints › nitro cold brew coffee › parce by maluma and others › speaks in third person › leather watches › whiskey connoisseurs › watches the history channel

volatile › spunky › promiscuous › nurturing

matte black everything › monster by kanye west and others › hidden flasks of liquor › displays public affection › positive vibes only › hot summer nights › drunk texts and voicemails › less clothes the better › champagne showers › late night rendezvous › drunk face by machine gun kelly › full of energy › has an idgaf attitude about life › speeding in traffic › simple silver jewelry › mile high club

#urban rpg #jcink rp #urban rp #jcink rpg #jcink site #jcink buzz #premium jcink #city/town rp #real life rp #site buzz #nosdreamsrp #nospre

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9uk · 5 years

Text

Let Me Stay Close To You : epilogue

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 3k

⌲ genre : angst , fluff if you squint

⌲ warnings : mentions of death , suicide , abuse

⌲ a/n : pardon me for I have a lot to say. I feel damn sad that this is really THE END of this series. feels only like yesterday that i decided to work on this baby. i’m sorry if there are any loopholes, i just sort of want to leave it to you guys to decide what had/is going to happen. as always, feedback is seriously more than welcomed! and I just wanted to say for all of you lonely souls out there, victims of bullying, people who are more insecure than they should be feeling, I LOVE YOU! I’m here for you, I’ve met so many people throughout a simple series and I’m always a listening ear for y’all! Don’t give up, press on <3 The road to self-love is a rough yet beautiful one! A big thank you for all my readers’ endless support and words of encouragement, as cliché as it sounds, I would never have made it to the end w/o you guys, no joke. I hope y’all stay with me! ^-^

**there are some references from forever rain by our wonderful leader Namjoon included in this writing.

part six > epilogue.

The rain drops falling on the surface of your umbrella only grows heavier with time.

The pattering is a constant rhythm that keeps you drowning in the bittersweet memories of the man lying before you, under you. Lowering the black parasol you have in hand, you shield your face from the series of footsteps approaching from afar. The sky is crying with you, and that puts your heart an inch closer to complete calamity. Your black leather gloves scrunch as you tighten your grip on the handle, your hand visibly shaking in unadulterated rage. Teeth clenched, you slow down your breaths and allow the last tear drop of longing to roll down your pale skin.

The ends of your long coal dress is drenched with rain water and spluttered with mud, but that’s okay.

Your boots are sinking into the soaked soil and you feel the wetness creeping into the sole of your feet, but that’s okay as well.

The stalk of lily you had gently placed on his tomb is being slapped by the violent pouring of the dark grey clouds who mourn with you, but that’s okay too.

Whether you dig six feet under this polluted ground, no matter how carefully you place the flowers you bring him every year, he would never come back into your life—and that’s not okay. That’s not okay at all, because the best friend you had loved so deeply had taken his own life to end his suffering.

The group of people walking your way is closing the distance and without another glance, you flee from the scene.

Stretching, you make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. It was the morning you had no clue was going to turn your life upside down. The glorious sun rays peeking through your curtains and the sweet singing of the birds flying outside your window grill couldn’t even save you from the catastrophe headed your way.

“Sweetie, there’s a letter for you!” The jingling of the car keys travel from downstairs and you quickly finish freshening up.

“Who is it from?” You ask, hand smoothening down the railing of the staircase as your tiny feet tap their way down the steps.

“It’s from Junghyun, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, before you scurry to your mother’s side and snatch the envelope from her hands.

The six-year old you understood the meaning of privacy, so you’re bolting back to your bedroom with a letter sent from your best friend in hand. And all excitement and anticipation was erased and instantly replaced by worry and fear when the first words you read are ‘I’m sorry’.

Your brows furrow harder and harder as you took in every line written on the piece of dreaded paper.

“So you’re saying that I should wait for her to knock off work to express my sincerity?”

Taehyung nods enthusiastically. “Look, I’m sorry for touching your girl the other day so trust me, this is the best advice I can give you,” Jungkook rubs his temple in frustration. “Doing that will definitely win her heart.” He looks away from his phone just long enough to send a wink.

“I-I’m not trying to get her or anything dude,” Jungkook plays with his fingers and his voice softens, “I just want her forgiveness, that’s all.”

And that is how you notice a certain man by the name of Jeon Jungkook strolling into the diner at 8 on a Sunday morning, orders a banana milkshake and occupies the small booth at the corner for a straight ten hours. He does nothing but play mobile games or doze off occasionally—or attempts to read a book he doesn’t even know the name of—but you will leave that out because he fails terribly every time. You thought you had made it as clear as day that the both of you were nothing more than a bully and victim, so why was he wasting his time here, sitting in the corner of Pop’s waiting for you? Unless…

The lengthy shift ends in the blink of an eye somehow, you don’t think it’s because of Jungkook’s presence and the lingering stares you receive from him—nonetheless you are gleefully waving Kihyun goodbye as you dump your apron into the staff cabinet. You don’t miss the way he shouts after you while wiping a plate dry in hand, “Have fun with your date! He’s a keeper.”

With a roll of your eyes that you know he can see despite not having to turn around, you walk through the backdoor and fish out your worn-out yet loyal pair of earpiece. You’re hoping that leaving from the behind would catch Jungkook off-guard, and that he wouldn’t be able to confront you or you wouldn’t have to bump into him. You couldn’t be more incorrect.

“Running away from me again, huh?” The cracks of the little stones in the gravelly ground beneath the sole of his Timberlands shoot through your ears in an unpleasant manner.

You dare not turn around to fully face him, too exhausted to deal with a person who held so much complications in your life at the moment. Moments later way too soon, he has stepped in front of you, leaving you with not many options.

“Y/N-” He reaches out to hold your hand, but you immediately flinch away as if it was a natural reflex whenever you were around him.

“Don’t touch me, Jungkook.”

His expression falls, along with the outstretched hand and he tucks it away in the pocket of his grey sweatpants.

“Listen I’m,” He runs his fingers through his brown hair and groans in annoyance directed at himself. “I’m..I’m just very sorry, okay?” His eyes are closed now, focusing on putting out the words that come from the bottom of his heart. “I really want the both of us to be something more than just a bully and victim,” Jungkook seemed unsatisfied with the status of the both of you. The walls you painstakingly build around yourself from the world is slowly but surely crashing down to the ground as he kept speaking about the possibility of redemption and forgiveness on your side.

“Can we be friends? I don’t know I just-”

He’s stumbling on his words now. Jungkook feels this inseparable connection with you, since your hearts connected when he hugged you to sleep, since you walk past him on the third day of college, he could literally recognise you anywhere and everywhere, the only face he would notice in a crowd, the only person he felt a sense of belonging to—or maybe ever since you bandaged his wounds up every time you visited.

Sometimes at night, he wonders why you stopped visiting after the death of his brother. Was he nothing more than a boy you took pity on? Was he not valid enough of a reason for you to come back?

He doesn’t know if it’s right to say it, or appropriate in any way but he knows about the value of second chances. After all, he was miraculously given one in life with the cost of his brother’s life.

“I missed you.”

The words falling out of his mouth comes to you as a shocker, eyebrows raised upon the claim.

“You were there for me at my lowest, when I got beaten up by my dad, abandoned by my mother,” Jungkook steps closer, and he steals the chance of you being momentarily stunned to grab your hands gently, cautiously.

He looks to the side, brows knitted in concentration to try and express himself in broken sentences in the best way possible. “You helped me, a-and all I did was try tear your life apart.”

“Yeah, congratulations. You succeeded.” Your tone is menacing, filled with venom and vengeance for the guy who stood before you. But you still didn’t quite get the part of you assisting him in the past. Unless…

The next thing that happens is something you thought you would never be able to witness in your life. The forbidden tear seeps out of the corner of his eyes and flows down the cold skin of his cheek. Because your reply to his heartfelt confession is all it takes to shred the last bit of control he has of his emotions, before he is breaking down right in front of your eyes.

Out of pure instincts and zero intentions, you hold his hand back as a tiny form of reassurance.

You’re wondering if it is in you to protect and to help others in need, or it’s simply just because your heart is beginning to ache for Jungkook and the pain he has been through. It’s like for a minute or so, you have forgotten all about the traumas he created for you and the scars he left on your skin—because the distance between both your bodies are closed eventually (you don’t remember when exactly and who stepped forward) and you’re hugging a crying Jungkook.

It’s baffling how you are willing to put aside your feelings for someone like Jungkook. Maybe it’s in you, maybe it’s just in you, and you would do it for anyone else and it’s not solely because of Jungkook. But who were you lying to?

“I’m sorry Y/N…I really fucking am, god! I would do anything to gain your forgiveness,” Jungkook sobs into your shoulders. If only it were that easy—to forget about all his wrongdoings and eradicate the constant and lingering fear he introduced in you.

“It takes time,” You pull away from him, “but I guess I can try.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you tell him your decision. His fingers wind up in your hair, clutching you close to the warmth of his body.

You’d rather be free and experience the happiness that is paired with sorrow, then to swirl forever in a whirlpool of anxiety, self-pity and hatred. This could be a turning point for your life, and you were willing to take up on the offer because you had nothing to lose.

Getting hurt will be an experience in your life, whether or not it does occur for the second time, you have grown to accept the way some people are and the way you choose to respond to ugly situations. You were constantly trapped in a cage of uncertainty and insecurity, blinded by the fog of stubborn overthinking and worrying, you failed to realise that the key to unlocking yourself from these bars are in your very own hands. It is a phase of learning, growing, accepting—and loving.

You’re hoping this chamomile tea would fight off the thoughts and memories of your late best friend.

You carefully bring the hot liquid closer to your mouth, your lips resting on the circumference of the teacup, the lovely aroma dosed in the smoke produced flowing into your nostrils and reaching every part of your body.

Your lonely umbrella stands quietly in the corner of this coffee shop, drenched and drying by itself.

It was a rather empty coffee house, located opposite a goddamned cemetery, like which genius on earth decided to open a lovely café filled with sunflowers and tulips, fragrant coffee and sweet pastries beside a home for corpses? Or rather go to work every day seeing the dead and the frequent sad faces of their families.

But the shop came to rather good use for your mini hideout from the cruel family you detested.

After having a quick sip, a man dashes into the shop, the bells at the door ringing so violently the potted plants all turn to face the perpetrator in a face of disgust.

He hurriedly sweeps his hair back, rain water splattering everywhere and dusts the remaining droplets off his windbreaker, before heading further inside to find a seat.

Life never stops to amaze you in every single, way.

Jeon.

His shit-eating grin appears at the sight of you.

Jung.

“Oh, Y/N!”

Kook.

He makes his way over to your place and sits down without invitation.

“What are you doing here?”

It comes out at the same time quite amusingly, and light giggles emitted from the both of you.

“I came to visit a friend.”

“My parents came to visit my brother.”

Same time, yet again but you managed to catch onto his sentence.

“Why aren’t you with them? You hated him with all your life or something?” You try to joke and lighten the already very dark atmosphere, but you realised the worst mistake you could ever make was to say something like that about someone’s death.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-” You quickly cover up and apologise, hoping Jungkook would take no offence to your stupid joke.

“No, it’s fine really. I didn’t know him that well anyways.”

You keep silent, not wanting to say anything insensitive anymore.

None of you said anything after that, and you feel worse than ever at the change in his expression—like he was hurt by something.

“To reply your question, no. My brother is the last person I would hate I guess. He helped me a lot.”

Confused, you probed further.

“What do you mean by that?”

Jungkook clears his throat and wraps his hands around your cup of tea to seek warmth.

“Well technically, he passed away, I still don’t know how but it saved me from the misery I went through when I was a child back then.”

You watch the smoke rise from the cup, fading into thin air as they soar higher.

I’m Junghyun’s brother, Jeon Jungkook.

The flushing of the rain has ceased to a slow drizzle, and the rain drops left on the window pane are in a race to see who reaches the bottom first.

Your eyes slowly look up to meet Jungkook’s, dawned upon the realisation of it all—the lost pieces of the jigsaw puzzle coming together to form the picture, finally.

Jungkook doesn’t see how your face had entirely changed, your features now plastered with disbelief and a burning urge to find out the truth. He continues blabbering on.

“Nothing surprising, but my parents see me as some bad omen and for me to visit my brother, that’s strictly not allowed. But I have a company dinner to attend to later on so I tagged along and roamed the surroundings of this graveyard since I couldn’t-”

“Wait,” You grab your bag and stand up. “Come with me. You have to see something.”

He mumbles a ‘oh sure why not’ and the both of you are walking towards the group of people you saw earlier on.

“Y/N, is that you?” The whole family lifts their heads to take a good look at you, not paying much attention to the man you’ve brought along with you.

“Oh my, how beautiful you’ve grown!” She exclaims once she confirms that it is indeed you, best companion of their first son. His father turns even more gloomy at the sight of you, his lips curling downwards even more, as if he has been brought back to the times when you came over and played water balloon fights, kicked soccer balls for fun and climbed tress— with his son. His one and only son that he had already lost.

“Why won’t you let Jungkook see him?” Not even a greeting is spared and you may be coming off as impolite, but on serious note you couldn’t care less if it’s anything got to do with these monsters of a parents. Jungkook raises his brows at how daring you were to use that tone against his powerful family.

You’re only met with silence and you push Jungkook to the front, to which he only looks down, seemingly afraid of his parents.

“That’s because I only have one son! And it will be like that forever!” His father raises his voice at you and you don’t even flinch. You almost want to thank Jungkook deep down, for forcing you to become such a tough bitch honestly.

“Then let me tell you now, that your one and only son is gone from this world forever because of none other than his cruel father!”

The clouds decide to release the rest of the water it contains, to wash away all the unspoken misdeeds and cleanse the sins in this corrupted family.

Everyone shuts up at your accusation, his parents know more than their son being reported on the news as a death caused by an accident, behind closed doors are devious secrets and pretentious lies. Everyone knows, only Jungkook is standing there completely clueless about the whole situation. Your umbrella lowers, to hide your bitten lip and tear-stained face. Jungkook takes the handle from your hand and carries it for you, putting his hand around your shoulder to pull you close to him.

It’s hard to see your tears in the pouring rain.

I’m sorry.

Because by the time you are probably reading this, I am already dead.

I’m sorry for scaring you with the sudden news like that but it is something that had to be done. I am tired of the nightmares and scary monsters that creep on me at night. I am tired of hugging my pillow so tight and trying to block off the screams coming from downstairs. I am so afraid, Y/N. I have no idea what my parents are doing behind my back, but it surely sounds like nothing good. I am living in this house with terror and I cannot do this anymore. Sometimes I really want to tell you how scared I am at night when I hear those sounds in the house but knowing you, you will come and help me and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. There is a bottle of rat poison in the storeroom, just know that the cause of my death isn’t from some accident or something that my parents will put on the news. I’m not that clumsy like you haha. This is the only way to save everyone from this misery and I chose this path myself. I will always love you, you know that right? I’m sorry I’m weak and I cannot handle fear. You are strong I know it and you will get over this. Look at the moon when you’re sad okay? Take good care of yourself, Always have you in my heart.

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