#ive quit for longer than this before but ive never felt so confident

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song ix.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, angst, soojung and oc’s mother being the best, minor food mention (not feeling hungry when stressed), hope, the tiniest bit of fluff, a cliffhanger of sorts!  words; 6,161 

Read Seokjin’s chapter ix here

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

Soojung found you curled up on the sofa a few hours later when she came home from work. You’d tried watching television, hoping the distraction would be successful but your mind just wouldn’t switch off, replaying the day’s earlier events. You didn’t want to think just yet but that’s all your mind could do. Going around and around in circles. Hearing Soojung’s keys in the door you felt a wave of nausea knowing you’d have to talk about it. Not that you didn’t want to confide in your best friend, it was just explaining everything meant that it was all real… 

She stuck her head around the door, sounding momentarily confused. “What are you doing back already? I wasn’t expecting you until la– Y/N?” She caught the look on your face immediately and just like she knew something was up. She rushed over. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Instantly you felt your face crumble, tears blurring your vision. “It’s stupid really,” you insisted, wiping your eyes as she came to join you, a protective arm wrapping around your shoulders. The small action at least made you feel a little better. “I don’t understand why I’m crying.” You hadn’t felt the need to cry until now. Maybe it was because you could always be vulnerable with your best friend. You didn’t need to be strong. She’d seen you at your worst. 

“Did…Did you guys argue?” She sounded unsure, confused as to what could be the issue. 

You sniffed, composing yourself. “No. Not really,” you let out a groan, “oh, god, Soo. It was awful. Seokjin’s ex-wife turned up…” 

You spent the next fifteen minutes telling her what happened, although a lot of it was a blur of raised voices and insults. One thing you knew for certain though, was that you’d never felt so awkward in your entire life. You’d watched your boyfriend arguing with his ex-wife feeling so incredibly out of the loop it was embarrassing. 

You’d never demanded to know every single detail about his marriage – you hadn’t even wanted to know. It wasn’t your business after all, nor did you want Seokjin to relive things he didn’t want to, or dwell on the past. You understood that more than anyone, what with your relationship with Donghae, but he’d openly revealed a lot to you. He’d confided in you, shared some hurtful details of his divorce and in turn you had entrusted him with your own past, your own bad memories… 

There had been many surprises this afternoon, but one certain revelation kept replaying in your head. It was all you could think about. To learn he’d left out something as major as getting cheated on… Having to find out like that… You were still reeling from the bombshell. Why hadn’t he told you? You’d both been through the same thing… Didn’t he trust you enough? You didn’t understand and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling hurt. 

“You don’t think he’s still in love with her, do you?” Soojung asked hesitantly. 

“No,” you shook your head. Regardless of the mess that were your thoughts right now, you didn’t think that at all. Yes, it was easy to let your doubts take over in the first few moments you’d set eyes on Nana, she was beautiful, although you hadn’t expected anything less, but you knew not to feel paranoid when it came to that. Regardless of today’s shock, you didn’t doubt Seokjin’s feelings for you, and you knew very well he no longer loved his ex-wife. 

“I think he’s just very bitter about everything,” you continued. “Mostly about how infrequently she sees Arin.” 

“Do you think it’s a problem?” 

Shrugging slightly, you didn’t really know what to say. “She’s been seeing her quite often lately. There was last weekend, but it shouldn’t have been that much of an issue.” Seokjin hadn’t been angry over that, or at least he hadn’t let on he was… Maybe he had and had just hid it well. With that thought, you remembered something. “It was just her face… while Seokjin was saying all those things to her. She looked so upset… I’ve never seen him like that.” 

It had been jarring seeing him so angry. He was usually soft-spoken and well-mannered. Even when he was irritated he stayed silent. You understood that he was only human, everyone had emotions, and his had bubbled over today, but it was still surprising. You hadn’t been expecting to be in the middle of a shouting match between him and his ex-wife. 

“But you knew they didn’t get on?” Soojung gently prodded, rubbing your upper back. 

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “Just seeing it in person… I can’t believe he didn’t tell her about us.” 

Your mind was all over the place, unable to concentrate on one issue for long enough. You really had been living in your own little world this entire time. So incredibly happy and blissfully content. It had been so easy to forget that Nana existed when it came to your relationship with Seokjin. To you, she was just Arin’s mom, who she spoke about sometimes, but not very often, in your presence. It was easy to put her to the back of your mind, it was easy not to think of her at all. Why would you? You didn’t even know what she looked like until today. All the photos you’d seen of a younger Seokjin, of Arin as a baby, had never once included her. You knew who she was, knew her name, but that was all. 

So you’d just assumed she knew about you too. You’d assumed Seokjin had told her without needing any confirmation. You’d assumed she’d known that you would be looking after Arin last weekend. You’d assumed she was perfectly fine with it. In reality she had no clue you existed. You were almost certain Seokjin hadn’t done it maliciously, he wasn’t that type of man, but seeing him today, how casually he had brushed off her concerns… As much as it had hurt to be thought of as a stranger, you understood why that was the case. Seokjin hadn’t. As stubborn as always, he refused to see where he had done wrong. 

“That is a bit odd,” Soojung agreed. “And even though she was a bitch to you, I guess I’d be pissed too if I found out the way she had.” 

You snorted softly. Soojung had been ready to fight when she’d first heard the things Nana had said to you, but she knew you were fine, you could handle yourself. “Ugh, it’s all such a mess,” you groaned. “I would’ve never looked after Arin last weekend if I’d known Nana had no clue.” You should have made sure. Why hadn’t you?

“I guess Seokjin had his reasons,” Soo reasoned. “Maybe he knew how his ex would react.” 

“Maybe,” you agreed before sighing. “I don’t know. There’s things he never told me either.” Maybe you were finding out that Seokjin was a very secretive person, who knew… “She cheated on him, Soo.” You were back there again. Soojung hummed in understanding. “Is it silly of me to be upset?” 

“No, it’s valid.” 

“I told him about Donghae,” you whispered. “I really opened up to him and he was so sweet and understanding. Why didn’t he tell me he’d been through the same thing?” No matter how many times you went through it in your head you couldn’t think of an answer. It didn’t make sense. Especially because he’d opened up to you so easily in regard to everything else. What made this so different?

“Maybe he just didn’t want to make it about him,” Soojung offered. 

“I don’t know… Maybe.” You groaned, thinking you were being selfish. He probably had a good reason when he didn’t tell you. There were more pressing issues right now anyway… You knew that, and immediately your head begin to spin again. 

“The whole stepmom thing,” you muttered, “it’s left me a little frazzled.” 

Soojung kept up with your disorderly thoughts expertly. “In what way?” 

You gave a little shrug, voice barely there because you didn’t want to admit it out loud. “It made me question things…”

“I thought you liked where things were heading?” Your best friend couldn’t hide the shock from her voice. 

“I do,” you replied, “or at least, I did.” Where were things actually heading? You didn’t know anymore. “I just wasn’t really thinking.”

“Of what it all meant?” 

You nodded slowly. “I lost myself for a while.” 

In a way, you had been in your own little bubble for these past few months – you, Seokjin and Arin. You’d had the most amazing summer, falling harder and harder for Seokjin and in the process Arin had captured your whole heart. She was such a sweet little girl, humorous and thoughtful, Seokjin and Nana had brought her up well. Your time together had been incomparable, your happiness unmatched, but in the process you’d ignored a few things. 

“So what are you saying?” Soojung asked gently. 

Your throat felt dry. “I’m afraid it’s all moving too fast.” 

It was a lot to take in. You had been together barely four months but here you were thinking about the word stepmom. How scary the word sounded, how scary it felt…

“You want to slow it down?”

“It’s probably too late for that,” you chuckled quietly. You felt your heart squeeze. “Soojung, I think I’m in love with him.” 

It felt almost relieving to confess such a thing, despite your heavy heart over today. Your feelings had been harder and harder to ignore these past couple of weeks, but you’d tried your best, not wanting to rush anything. Right now you were confused and hurt, but one thing was blatantly clear. You loved him. 

“It’s scary,” you whispered, feeling Soo rub your back again, listening silently. “Falling so fast.” Especially after everything you’d been through with Donghae. You were scared. Despite opening up your heart to Seokjin easily, this was different. Things seemed so complicated now, when not six hours ago they had been nothing more than simple. 

“Today was a massive reality check,” you scoffed. “I’ve been spending these past few months playing house with Seokjin and Arin, it was bound to catch up with us sometime.” 

“You liked it though,” your best friend encouraged, voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you so happy… Not since… Well, not even then.” 

“Everything just felt so… perfect,” you agreed. Everything had slotted into place easily. “And natural, and just, nice.” For lack of a better word. Your brain was pulp. 

“Arin obviously felt comfortable enough to call you her stepmom in front of her own mom?” You didn’t even notice Soojung’s change of direction. 

“I don’t know, I think she was just confused. You know what kids are like together. She heard her friend talking about it and they probably got excited.”

“Would you like to be her stepmom?”

You paused then, realising what had just happened. She knew you well, knew what was bothering you, conflicting your mind. You gave her a small smile. “She’s a sweet child, but it’s not that simple right now. It’s not only my decision either.” 

Truthfully you hadn’t thought about it before today, but now it was one of the things at the forefront of your mind. If everything worked out okay then you and Seokjin would only grow more serious. From strength to strength and what did that mean? However, now you knew that Nana wasn’t exactly your biggest fan… You felt fresh frustration, deflated yet again. Today had gone terrible. 

“You’re right,” Soojung agreed, “but it’s something you need to be comfortable with too.” 

That was true. These were things you needed to talk about with Seokjin. Then again, maybe you should’ve talked about them before. You had no clue how he felt regarding the topic, well… not explicitly anyway. 

“Seokjin comparing the both of us made me feel horrendous.” You found yourself admitting. “I’m not trying to be Arin’s mother. I wasn’t even trying to be her stepmother. Not yet. I haven’t thought about it until now. I just… I loved being a part of her life in my own little way.” 

You never wanted to replace Nana. You hated thinking like this, but what if Seokjin had been looking for that the whole time? A new mother for his daughter… You were almost positive that wasn’t the case, but you were so drained right now, your mind was all over the place. You kept replaying in your head what he had shouted at Nana over and over again. 

“He can’t expect you to take on that role, not when she already has a mother,” Soojung said carefully. “But you can be there for Arin in other ways – in similar ways. You’ve been teaching and caring for kids for years, so I hope you’re not undermining your capabilities.” 

You smiled then, grateful, leaning on her shoulder. “Thank you.” You definitely weren’t doing that but being a teacher and a mother were two totally different things. Especially when it wasn’t your biological child. 

“Ugh, I’m just exhausted,” you groaned, laying back against the sofa and shutting your eyes. “My head’s a mess.” You didn’t want to talk about it any longer, switching off sounded really good right now and Soojung understood that perfectly. 

She tapped your arm. “I’m going to cancel my plans with Tae.” You opened your eyes, mouth open ready to fight. “He’ll be fine.” She insisted. “Me and you are gonna get takeout and ice cream and just stop thinking. We’re going to pull the One Tree Hill boxset out and pretend we’re still in high school.” 

You weren’t going to lie, that did sound like fun. It was also foolproof. You’d been doing it since you were seventeen, when Soojung had got dumped for the first time. “Great idea.” 

She leaned in for a hug. “You told him you need space to think, so that’s what you’re going to do. But not tonight. No rush.” 

As she pulled back you took her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I love you.” 

“And I love you,” she grinned. “Now, let me grab my phone.”  

You woke up early the next morning, like really early, 5am, which wasn’t ideal seeing as you’d struggled to get to sleep the night before. Your mind and heart felt heavy, but you forced yourself to get up and shower because there was no point trying to fall back to sleep for an hour. You had school, and that meant you had to try your best to look presentable for the kids – and happy. A bunch of 6-7 year olds were scarily talented at reading an adult’s mood you’d come to find out. 

You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, which wasn’t a surprise because when you were stressed or sad you never felt practically hungry anyway, and left for work long before Soojung even had a chance to wake up, thinking your classroom so early in the morning might give you some sense of clarity. Either that or stop the buzzing of your thoughts that couldn’t seem to keep away. The change of scenery would hopefully do you some good.   

You were at your desk trying to organise your planner for the week ahead, 7:04am, when your cell phone began buzzing. You looked across at the device, face up a few inches away from you and felt your stomach squeeze. Filling the screen was a picture of Seokjin and you at an amusement park he’d dragged you to over the summer, like the big kid he was at heart. Seeing his smiley face made your heart hurt. You thought about leaving it ring, you could pretend you were busy and let him leave a message, but no matter how much you wanted to do it, you couldn’t. 

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you picked up. Your voice didn’t sound like yours. “Hello.” 

“Y/N,” he breathed, sounding somewhat relieved. You had taken a while to make your decision. “Are you free to talk?”

He sounded tired and unlike his usual self, and a part of you wanted to rush over and talk to him in person, to check in on him and see how he was doing, because as much as yesterday hadn’t been nice for you, it hadn’t been too great for him either… However, you knew that was a bad idea, you’d said you had needed time. A few hours wasn’t that. 

“Um, yeah,” you replied, opening your mouth again to remind him about what you’d said yesterday, but already he was rushing forward, eager to say his piece. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, I guess… I guess I needed time too.” He sounded hesitant, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had never been expected (nor wanting) a phone call. “Do you want to meet up for lunch?”

Your voice was gentle. “I don’t think that’s a good idea today.” Maybe he’d misunderstood you, you needed longer, besides, things weren’t going to get sorted out in under an hour during your lunch break from work. It wasn’t as simple as that – you wished it was. 

There was a pause his side, then – “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Seokjin, I’m not mad,” you sighed softly. “I’m just…” What were you? Frustrated more than anything. It was hard to explain. In a way you felt sorry for him, but you also felt sorry for Nana. “I have a lot of questions that I don’t think I’m ready to ask just yet.” 

His voice was careful as he asked you, “When do you think you will be ready?”

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. “I need time to think and it’s pretty hard when I have work all week.” Neglecting your job was foolish – impossible to think of, actually. 

“I understand.” Of course he did. He was nothing but understanding when it came to you and your relationship together. That’s the Seokjin you knew and adored… the one you loved… 

“Is Arin okay?” You found yourself asking. You knew you should probably say your goodbyes, but you’d woken up feeling terribly guilty that you’d just upped and left her like that yesterday. “I’m sorry I ran off without saying goodbye to her.” 

“She’s doing okay, I tried telling…” He trailed off suddenly, and you guessed he thought he was overstepping the mark. The mark you’d put in place. “She asked where you went, I said something came up.” 

“Oh.” You’d thought about popping your head around the door and saying goodbye yesterday but just couldn’t do it. You hated to think she’d thought you had left her too. “I really am sorry about that.”  

“Y/N, it’s fine. Please never be sorry,” he murmured softly. 

You smiled sadly at his sentiment. “Are you okay?” You shouldn’t really ask, not when you needed to hang up and take that space you both needed, but you couldn’t help yourself. It felt wrong not to check in. 

“Could be better,” he chuckled slightly. You appreciated his honesty. “You?” 

“The same.” There was no point pretending. “I think some space will do us good. Let’s just think about everything and then we can talk.” 

“Okay,” he agreed simply. There wasn’t much else he could say. If he disagreed in any way you knew he would never tell you. He wanted to respect your wishes. 

“I’ll call you towards the end of the week?” You could get through the work week, have some time to yourself in the evenings and then meet up on Saturday. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I agree.” Yet, he sounded a little dejected. 

“Okay.” You had to leave it at that. “I gotta go,” you told him, even though you were in no rush to leave for work, already in your classroom. 

“Of course, bye, Y/N.” You heard some background noise and then a familiar voice in the background – Misook. As it was for you, life went on. Arin had to get ready for school, he had to get ready for work… You couldn’t both wallow in self-pity all day. “Take care,” he told you. It sounded awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say. 

“Bye, Seokjin.” You felt just the same. Even right at the beginning your phone conversations had never been this wooden. 

You hung up first, and then there was silence, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall opposite. You watched the red second hand move, feeling as if it was mocking you.

The week was slow. It was an average one, but it dragged by. On Monday you had to sit through the usual chitchat inside the teacher’s lounge during lunch, catching up on everyone’s weekends. When Eunbi asked how yours had gone you’d breezed past it, expertly changing the subject to her weekend visiting Jungkook’s parents. Other than that, there was really no need for Seokjin to come up in conversation, which you were thankful for. You spent the rest of the week busy with the children, staying behind a lot later than usual just because it was easier inside your classroom. 

At home you found yourself missing Seokjin like crazy. Ever since your first date you’d been in regular contact throughout the week, and then when things had gotten serious, you’d spoken to him every day – even if it was just on the phone in the evenings once school started back. For all contact to be gone was strange. You hated it, felt as if a part of you was missing. But you knew it needed to be done. As the days went (dragged) by you no longer felt overwhelmed by Sunday’s events. The shock had worn off and you had time to dissect it all, whether it be over dinner on your own when Soo was working late, or when you were in bed for the night, waiting to drop off. The more you broke it down the easier it was to place things in different categories. All the things that had shocked you, the things that had hurt you, and then finally, the things that had made you feel guilty. 

On Thursday night you promised your mom you’d have dinner with her. Jonathon was abroad visiting his children and she hadn’t been able to get time off work to join him. She was bored at home all alone, so you really couldn’t say no despite a part of you wanting to. Before you arrived you’d made the decision not to tell her about your…what could you call it? It was hardly an argument with Seokjin. A disagreement..? Whatever it was, you didn’t want to worry her. After all this time she was over the moon you’d finally met someone you really cared about and you knew it was stupid, but you didn’t want to make her worry.  

However, that all went out the window as soon as she opened the door to you. She was your mom for crying out loud, who could you confide in if it wasn’t her? She listened to you attentively. All your thoughts, all your worries – even if the potatoes were at risk of cremating, and it felt good to have your mother by your side. 

“Seokjin is a lovely man, anyone can see that, but he’s allowed his flaws. He’s only human,” she reasoned, your conversation coming back to the way he’d acted around Nana. You knew your mother was right, and you were in no way judging him for it, but it had been very jarring seeing him change so suddenly. “Obviously he and his ex-wife bring out the worst in each other. Sounds to me as if they’re so used to hurting one another it’s become the norm.” 

You nodded in silent agreement, thinking back to them hurling abuse at one another as if it was the most natural thing. In a way it had turned into a competition. Who could hurt one other the most. In the end, Seokjin had dealt the final blow. You. You could still see the hurt on Nana’s face now, even though it was days ago. It made your chest heavy all over again. You told your mom just as much. 

“There’s no need to feel so guilty, love,” she told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “None of this is your fault. Seokjin, whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, used you as a way to hurt Nana, and you need to tell him that you’re not okay with that.” 

That was the part that had hurt the most now that you’d had enough time to think. Above all else, not telling Nana about you, the catalyst that led to his divorce, it was being used as some kind of weapon that stuck out. You had never wanted that. You had never asked for it. 

“You are his girlfriend first and foremost.” Your mom continued. “Yes, you care for Arin but these things need to be spoken about first. You have never wanted to be, nor felt like you were the child’s mother. You know your boundaries and so should he.” 

She was correct. You’d been so hesitant not to overstep the mark these past few months. You’d even been in two minds whether or not to offer to babysit Arin that weekend. You’d thought Seokjin understood that, your cautiousness when it came to the role you played in her life. After all, your relationship was still new, and Nana was very much a part of Arin’s life. However he had disregarded that all to throw a few cheap shots. 

Your conversation shifted to Arin then. It was easy to sympathise with her, after all you’d been in her shoes once. Parents who seemed to fight more than they did talk. It had gotten better for you though, their relationship turning amiable once the divorce had settled. For Arin, it seemed to be only getting worse. You wished you could talk some sense into Seokjin. He might’ve thought that Arin was okay with her parents barely having any contact but you knew that wasn’t the case. It had been very telling to hear that Arin never brought Seokjin up in conversation with her own mother. That’s why it had taken Nana so long to find out about you. Deep down that little girl knew that her mom didn’t want to hear her dad’s name, and that was heart breaking. 

Somewhere along the way, your mom asked you what you thought about Arin calling you her stepmother. Despite it being done innocently, the weight of the word meant so much more to the adults in the situation and you agreed. It had been strange to hear, and not just because it had come from Nana’s mouth. You were serious about Seokjin and could see a future with him, and that meant being in Arin’s life permanently. That word wasn’t so farfetched and you’d had plenty of time to think about it this week. What it meant for you, Arin, and of course Nana. 

“How did you feel when dad first met Dahae?” You asked your mom. These things had never really come up in conversation before, which was surprising, but right now you needed any advice and insight you could get. Your mom had been in Nana’s shoes once after all. All those years ago. 

“I was…happy for him,” she replied hesitantly. “It took time. It’s a confusing thing. I no longer loved your father but it felt strange to see him with someone else. Of course, everyone is different. Not one relationship is the same,” she added. 

You nodded in understanding. Your father had met Dahae, his wife, when you were twelve. You had grown up with her and it didn’t feel odd to think of her as a second mom. You still called her by her name but when in conversation with others you often referred to her as your stepmom. Always had, for as long as you could remember. Maybe it was after the wedding, but you couldn’t be too sure. Definitely before she gave birth to your siblings though. 

It was different with Jonathon. He’d always been “your mother’s husband” and not because you didn’t care for him or think he was a lovely man. He was, and you liked him very much, it was just… You were an adult when you met him, twenty to be exact, living across the country for college. The bond wasn’t quite there like it was with Dahae, but your mom understood that – so did Jonathon. But it made you pause and think. You’d never asked your mom how she felt hearing you call Dahae your stepmother. It had never crossed your mind until now. 

“I didn’t like the idea at first, I have to admit, but who would?” She confessed. “It’s hard not to feel hurt or threatened, a whole load of different emotions,” she gave a small shrug, “but meeting Dahae, and seeing how kind a woman she was, and how much you meant to her made me see things differently.” 

You smiled, silently hoping that one Nana would think and feel the same way when it came to you. You could only cross your fingers and try your best in the meantime. 

Your mom nudged you, a playful lilt to her voice. “I think you’re very lucky to have two wonderful women in your life that love you and want the best for you – and yes, that’s a brag on my part.” 

You laughed with her, but your worries were getting the best of you again, turning you sombre. “What if Nana never accepts me though?” 

“I think you should only think about that if it happens,” she replied. “There’s no point expecting the worst right now.” 

You still didn’t feel very hopeful though, it was probably written all over your face. Sweeping some hair out of your eyes, your mother’s voice was soft. “Love, she had no idea you existed, I think her anger was warranted.” A pause, tone changing. “Although, not at you. I’m not very happy about that.” 

You chuckled at that. “It’s fine. You know I can look after myself.” You were feisty when you wanted to be, or scrappy as Seokjin had so comically put it once. 

Wrapping an arm around you once more, she squeezed you gently. “Talk to him.” She urged. “You miss him. This time apart is getting pointless, you already know how you feel.” 

You did. Your feelings were as strong as ever. 

You had been itching to pick up the phone last night and just call him already, but you’d said Saturday. You only had one day left at work, you could hold out until then. It would be better that way, you didn’t want to interrupt a potentially busy day. Friday’s were often crazy for him, you didn’t want to be a distraction. 

However, come morning break you bumped into Hoseok coming out of your classroom, eager to rush to your car and grab the apple that must have rolled out of your bag and onto the seat. (Hopefully – if it was on the floor it was going in the trash ASAP). 

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He politely asked. 

“Fine, thank you.” Talking with Hoseok always came easily, regardless of his position as the principal. “Glad it’s the weekend tomorrow. How about you?” 

“My thoughts exactly,” he laughed, before adding, “Although, I hear Arin’s started hers early.” 

“Oh?” You were immediately lost. Had you missed something? You hadn’t seen Arin at school all week, which wasn’t strange. Your paths rarely crossed these days unless you were on yard duty, and if you were being honest, you were glad it hadn’t been this week. She must have had an inkling something was wrong right now, she hadn’t seen you at all since Sunday, so you were relieved to know you didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. It was selfish, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. 

Hoseok looked confused by your reaction, but carried on regardless, shaking it off. “Seokjin called up yesterday, said she’d be visiting her mom earlier this weekend if it was possible. I figured maybe you and he had plans for tonight.” 

You froze, forcing yourself to reply because your boss was waiting for one. “Oh, no.” You swallowed, coming up blank. “No plans.” 

If Hoseok noticed your woodenness he didn’t let on. “One day couldn’t possibly hurt her education, right? But don’t tell the board I said that,” he added with a laugh. 

You made yourself join in, although your mind was racing. “Secret’s safe with me.” 

He smiled at you, giving you a nod. “Enjoy your weekend, alright? See you Monday.” 

Thank God he had somewhere to be. You nodded back, watching him already begin to walk away. “And you, Hoseok.” 

You proceeded to sit in your car for twenty minutes, half eaten apple already turning brown as you racked your brain. It wasn’t Nana’s weekend to have Arin. Was something wrong? You were probably being silly, conjuring up the worst case scenarios for no reason. If something had happened, Seokjin would have contacted you. He knew he could always count on you, but… You had told him you needed space and he’d agreed. He was a man of his word, so if something had happened, what if he thought he couldn’t call you?

You pulled your phone out of your bag at the thought, clicking on his contact but stopped yourself when you saw the time. You had just under five minutes to be back at class… I’m being irrational, you told yourself. If something was wrong he would have informed Hoseok, and the principal sounded absolutely fine. You were worrying for no reason. If something had happened, something bad, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach out to you. You knew that, and so did he. Only a few more hours and you’d get to talk to him. Most of those involved sleep. You could wait until tomorrow morning. You could. 

.

.

You couldn’t. 

It was half 9 and you were home alone. It was Soojung and Taehyung’s date night and she was spending the night at his place, so all you had for company were your own thoughts – and RJ, the alpaca plush Seokjin had won for all those months previous. You couldn’t possibly wait until tomorrow, your mom was right, what was the point in waiting when you knew how you felt. You wanted to see Seokjin, to talk to him and feel him. You missed him like crazy. 

Turning the television down low you grabbed for your phone which had slipped in between the sofa cushions. This time you didn’t hesitate, no work commitments calling your name, and dialled Seokjin’s number straight away. He picked up after only two rings. 

 “Y/N,” he breathed, sounding more than surprised. 

“Hey, you,” you smiled into the receiver. It felt good to hear his voice again. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.” 

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“Of course not. Well,” he paused to laugh, “I was just about to head to bed.” 

He sounded a lot like his usual self tonight, it eased your mind. You laughed along softly, a confession slipping past your lips. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You heard a sigh of relief his end. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week.” The longing in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.” 

“I’m ready,” you nodded. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.” 

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.” 

“Oh.” You thought to ask him how come, but stopped yourself, you could get to that in person. He didn’t sound upset, which you took as a good sign. “Okay. Now?” 

“It’s not too late?” He checked. 

“No, it’s fine.” You were eager, shaking you head as you replied, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I really want to see you.” 

You could hear his smile too. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” You heard his footsteps along the floor, the sound of a drawer opening as if he was finding something to wear. 

“Don’t speed,” you added, as a joke more than anything. 

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.” 

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.” It was silly, but you didn’t want the phone call to end even though in under half an hour he’d be here. 

But you could be patient. 

You could. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts scenario #i hope this is good enough for the time being!!! im sorry its taking me so long to get pt 8 posted #u guys are the best i love u <3333

[maraudereestauderelb]

Touched

A Duff McKagan smut One Shot

Prompt: You go to a concert with one of your friends and band mates, who's having a thing with no other than the band's guitarist Slash. After the show you get to meet Duff McKagen and somehow end up having your first time with him.

MASTERLIST

Warning: sex (duh)

"They're good aren't they?", Y/F/N shouted over the loud music. "Amazing!" "Told ya!"

We were dancing along to the loud music and enjoying ourselves. It had taken her quite some time to convince me to come with her instead of heading for the Troubadour with our other two band mates. Apparently coming with my bassist had been the right choice though.

After a world tour, a successful album and quite a bit more money in my bank account than before we had left LA, I still felt more at home right here. In a rundown club on the strip with a still upcoming rock band on stage.

Y/F/N and I had fit in perfectly. Nobody would recognize just the two of us having a great time and getting drunk. Except maybe the group of aspiring musicians and rising rock bands of the strip. In this circle everyone knew everyone, knew in which bands they had played, who they were associated with, had partied together before and so on and so forth.

That was exactly the reason why we had ended up here. The lead guitarist used to play in a band called Road Crew and had surely attended one of the parties at our trailer before. Y/F/N knew him and she had told me he was in a new band that was very close on getting a record deal. "You gotta check them out! Heard they're fuckin good", had been the argument that had won me over in the end. Not so much her initial reason to come here. That being the fact that apparently the guy had been an awesome fuck and she wanted to get laid by him again.

Now being here, I didn't regret it. I was having fun! And I was back in my usual habitat and in a situation that was familiar. If after the concert she wanted to leave with her black haired curly-head she was free to do so. Either I'd bump into someone I knew or would simply head home and call it a night.

The singer seemed familiar as well and if I remembered correctly Nikki had left his ass outside at one of their parties.

"Yo, what's the lead singer's name again?", I asked Y/F/N. "Oh that's Axl. Hollywood Rose, remember?" "Oh yea, right!"

I got why those boys were apparently very close to making it. Shit, was Guns n' Rosesgood!

Y/F/N had successfully gotten us all the way through the crowd to the stage, where we danced and sang along some more until the band was finished.

A few moments after the last song had ended the club put on some generic rock music and blasted them through the speakers.

"You gonna head backstage or wait here?" This wasn't the type of club in which the band would go off stage and head backstage never to be seen again. They had a small room for all of them to change and would then most likely come out to party. I knew, because we had played here before.

"He saw me, so trust me, he's gonna come to me", she grinned, and I once again admired her confidence.

It didn't take too long before Slash really showed up. He greeted me as well and congratulated on our album, so I told him what a sick guitar player he is. I give credit where it's due.

But I also understood that it was probably best for me to piss off now. So that's what I did. I figured I'd get one last drink and keep my eyes open in case of seeing anybody I knew. And for real I spotted a few people I knew from college who quickly waved me over.

After telling them the generic shit everybody wanted to know coming back from tour, it actually turned into a lot of fun to party with them. No coke but sure as hell a lot of alcohol.

It was hours later when they decided to leave and I had actually planned to leave with them

when I spotted a barkeeper, I knew. He had also attended a bunch of our parties and was a cool guy. So I sat down at the bar and joked around with him some more as the club kept getting emptier.

The club surely was anything but empty at one point, neither was it packed. It wasn't so crowded anymore, and I had completely lost track of time when someone sat down on the barstool next to me.

I didn't pay much attention and simply took another sip from my vodka lemon until he said: "You know, your friend's already gone, right?"

I turned to face him and recognized him as one of Slash's band members, right after I had been speechless for a moment because of how handsome he was.

"Yea, I know", I nodded and added grinning: "So is your guitarist, right?" "Obviously", he answered laughing: "Should've seen him backstage after the concert, couldn't get to her fast enough!" I joined his laughter, finished my drink and looked around. "Your remaining band member's left with a groupie as well, huh?" "No, fuckin idea where they are", he smiled and waved over to Jimmy, the barkeeper: "Another one of these for the little Rockstar here and I take whatever she has."

"Thank you", I told him with a soft smile. He waved it off: "I'm Duff McKagan by the way." "Y/N Y/L/N", I replied. "I know, was at one of your trailer parties before ya guys became famous." "Oh were you?", I asked surprised. I would've bet I'd recognize such a pretty face. Blond, tall, bassist. I was in fuckin heaven.

"You then ones with the trailer with the IV in the living room, right?" "Yupp, that's us", I nodded with a smirk: "Then I'm sorry for not recognizing you..."

"Don't worry bout it", he smiled: "Doubt we got the chance to talk...not that I wouldn't have wanted to..."

"We should have! Then I probably would've listened to you guys sooner! And Oh. My. God. You're amazing!", I gushed excitedly. "Thanks! Hoping it'll get us where you are now." "You'd have to be a complete idiot not to fuckin sign you!"

"I fucking hope so", he sighed and took a big gulp from his vodka: "You the song writer, right?" He suddenly changed the topic.

"Yes, why?" "I dunno", he shrugged: "When I first saw your music video on TV I couldn't help but fuckin wonder what complete asshole hurt this beautiful girl..."

His words hit me like a fucking train, because they reminded me of my former best friend Nikki Sixx, whom I had been stupid enough to fall for, but soon my drunken brain focused on something else: He thought I was beautiful...

"An asshole that's no longer a problem", I laughed. "Well cheers to that", the blond guy smirked and clicked our glasses: "Lucky me."

I returned his smirk and soon felt his hand on my thigh.

"How come you didn't leave with a groupie?", I tease him and sip on my glass. "Not my thing..." "What an utter liar", I thought. "And also", he went on: "I saw you in the crowd dancing next to your friend and knew exactly who to go for."

The way he looked into my eyes send chills through my body and I quickly took another sip from my drink.

"You alright?", Jimmy asked from further away to make sure I was fine, and I quickly nodded.

"You're pretty confident, huh?", I asked Duff. "Why?" "Well, what if that one girl you decided to go for wasn't interested?", I teased him.

Was I interested? I mean...damn he was hot and watching him on stage had been hot! His touch on my thigh made me feel hot! But for fuck's sake I didn't knowhim!

"That would be pretty sad for both of us", he shrugged and winked at me before looking at his glass and away from me.

Was he right? God, I could already feel the heat inside of me rising and a quiet voice in the back of my head reminded me that I had seen him shirtless on stage and wondered what it would feel like to touch him.

But damn it, I was drunk!

He lit a cigarette and I gave my everything not to stare at his lips for longer.

"I liked you better when you were funny and not seductive", I shrugged as well with a smirk and made him laugh. "Ouch, thanks!", he replied smiling: "In that case you'd have loved to see me lookin like an idiot when I got to Slash and your friend hours ago just to realize your gone."

"Maybe you should've hurried more, you know, the way your friend Slash did", I teased him more and calmed my nerves.

"He's just a funny guy", I told myself: "Joke around with him some more and then get your ass back home."

"Well, in the end you waited here for me anyway." "Rockstars don't wait for anyone", I joked and took the cigarette from him to take a drag as well. I could tell he was staring at my lips this time but was ripped out of his thoughts when I handed it back.

He cleared his throat and said: "Always wanted to fuck a rockstar."

I almost choked on my drink. That was my sign. The cards were on the table. I should tell him that this certainly wouldn't be the night he'd get what he wants and leave! But I was curious... so damn curious...

I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him! Maybe I could at least make out with him...find out what his lips felt like...there was nothing wrong about that.

"That's what the girls always tell you?", I tried to mock him but was too nervous to sound convincing. "You're quite a joker, huh?" "At least tryin to..."

"It's cute", he admitted. "Good, because I never run out of stupid jokes..."

"Trust me, I'd know a way or two to shut you up", he grinned to himself and took a last drag before he stubbed the cigarette out.

God, his words went straight to my core and put pictures in my head I hated but at the same time desperately wanted to happen. I wanted to find out what he wanted to do!

"Ya know what I always wanted to find out?", I asked without thinking about it twice. "What is it, gorgeous?" "If it's true that bass players don't just have skilled fingers when it comes to playin instruments."

I cracked the joke before I had thought about it. Why? Because I always had to listen to idiots tell me that and because I somehow really wanted to find out.

His smirk grew winder than I had seen it all night and it made me knees weak. "I can definitely show ya that."

"How about you first make me shut up?"

I had barely finished my sentence before I felt his free hand in my neck and soon enough his lips on mine.

I felt like melting right then and there! His lips moving against mine felt so good! But what started as a rather innocent kiss quickly became more heated. I grabbed the hem of his leather jacket, not to pull him closer but because I needed to hold on to something, anything."

His lips were moving against mine before he gently captured my lower lip with his. It was hard not too moan on the spot! And even harder when I tasted his tongue.

I damned those stupid barstools! I wanted him closer, needed him closer.

When we finally separated again my entire body was totally antsy!

"Speechless?", he asked teasingly. God, he was so damn hot!

I tried to think of something witty and fun, but I couldn't summon a single proper thought.

"You know...to prove the other thing we should probably move this somewhere more private...", he whispered into my ear and hadn't goose pumps already covered my entire body they definitely would have after he seductively kissed my neck.

I should tell him no. I should move my fucking ass back home.

But when he leaned back again and all I could think about was how I buried my fingers in his blond hair, I just nodded...

He had his arm around my waist when he let me out of the club and down strip. It was still dark and it wasn't hard to tell that there were still a bunch of parties going on in other places as well. Like I said, I had long lost my sense for time.

"My place ain't far from here", he told me and I nodded. Excitement was bubbling inside of me and gosh, I couldn't wait to kiss him again!

All worries and negative thoughts had been long gone as we walked through the cold night. I kept looking at him from the side and tried to hide the excited smirk on my lips. But

damn, he was even taller than I had guessed and looked so handsome in the dim glow of the streetlights.

I didn't know what to say. Where words needed?

I realized how he eyed me as well and a smug smile appeared on his lips. Shit, I wanted him. I had never felt this need for someone before, but I had also never allowed myself to get this carried away.

I bit my lower lip and tried to clear my thoughts but that attempt was quickly thrown completely over board when he suddenly pressed my back against the closest wall and kissed me. The kiss almost took my breath away.

Here I was standing on the strip with my back against the wall of some club and making out with a complete stranger. And it felt so right.

"Duff", I whimpered against his lips in a needy tone. "We should probably keep going, huh?", he smirked a little out of breath himself. "Except you consider this somewhere more private", I said with a grin on my lips but felt how he led me on with his arm around my hips once again.

"Wouldn't mind", he shrugged and lit another cigarette: "But I wanna take my time with you."

I swallowed hard and accepted the cigarette he wanted to share with me.

The next five minutes of us walking passed mainly without much talking but then I found myself in his one-bedroom apartment.

Alone with him now I felt the nervousness set back in.

So this was how it's gonna be?

"You want somethin to drink or anything?", he asked from behind me and I shook my head. Soon I felt him against my back with his arms around my body and his lips on my neck and shoulder.

I suppressed the low moan that had wanted to escape my lips and simply leaned back against him.

He had soon gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. A shiver ran through me but his warm hands that travelled my body soothed me and quickly found the clasp of my bra and opened it.

He was still kissing my neck when he whispered: "Turn around to me." I obeyed immediately.

The sight of my bare breasts exposed before him made him fight to contain his arousal as he hardened in his boxers. He lowered his head and wrapped his lips around my nipple. He sucked gently and I failed to find something to hold onto.

It was weird to be almost naked in front of him while he was still fully dressed, at the same time it made me feel excited.

"Get on the bed, I got something to prove", the blond haired told me smirking and I nodded. I tried not to run to the bed and could barely believe how caught up in the moment I was. My entire mind was foggy!

I watched him take off his leather jacket before he walked over to me and moved my thighs apart so he could lay down between them.

I could feel him hard against my center through our clothes but before the nervousness consumed me he had his lips on mine again and consumed my senses instead.

His body was pressed against mine and he traced his fingers down my body. He stroked over my thighs and spread them even more before moving to my panties.

Through the fabric he pressed his hand against me and gently rubbed me. A soft moan left my lips and I stirred underneath him and spread my legs further. Duff smirked against my breats and took my nipple in his mouth again as he began to rub me through my panties. His fingers ran over my slit as heat began to pool and I whimpered.

"Duff", I moaned softly.

He pulled away from my titts and brought his lips to mine while his fingers rubbed at my clit.

My eyes were closed, and I was lost in the moment, but I managed to bring my hand to his head and tangled my fingers in his blond, long hair. My lips parted as another soft moan left them and Duff pushed his tongue inside my mouth, massaging my tongue with his own.

His fingers were moving in circles over my clit and I whimpered against his lips as my panties became more soaked with each move he made.

I moaned and writhed on the bed as his hand travelled beneath my panties. Both of us moaned as he ran his middle finger between my folds, feeling how wet I was.

I whined his name again and lifted my hips to meet his hand.

He pushed his erection against my thigh and instinctively I reached down and stroked him through his pants.

"God you’re so wet for me", he growled in in my ear.

I bit my lip and raised my hips when suddenly he pulled away from me.

He knelt on the bed and smirked at me before ripping my panties down my thighs and tossing them to the floor.

My heart felt like it was about to pump out of my fucking chest.

He moved between my legs and crashed his lips against mine.

His fingers made their way back to my core and he pushed his middle finger inside me with ease, making me gasp.

"You want me to fuck you?", he pulled his finger out teasingly slow.

I bit your lip and without thinking I nodded as he pushed his finger back in.

He added a second finger, stretching me slowly: "But not yet."

He pulled his fingers away and I whined at the emptiness. But before I could protest Duff spread my legs apart and laid between them.

He ran the flat of his tongue along my slit, making me gasp and clutch at the sheets.

His tongue ran over my clit in two slow strokes.

I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and let out a moan.

His tongue ran over my clit in slow circles and he reached his hands up to squeeze my breasts. When he sucked at my clit I let out another moan into my hand and Duff pulled away.

"Oh No, baby", he told me and moved my hand from my mouth: "I wanna hear you."

I bit my lip and watched as he went back to his slow licks and his eyes never left mine as he ran his tongue over me. I felt like I was burning.

I squeezed my eyes shut and reached down, wrapping my fingers in his blond hair and raised my hips to meet him. He pulled back, only slightly and ran his fingers over my slit. He let out a growl as he watched, pushing two fingers into your throbbing pussy.

"Duff", I gasped and already felt extremely full. "Don't panic", I told myself and threw all worries away when he began to pump his fingers in and out of me, slowly at first before he increased his speed.

"You like that, baby girl?"

I moaned in response and he stopped his movements. He sucked at my clit and the change in pleasure made me squirm.

I whined and lifted my hips to meet the strokes of his tongue.

He moaned against me and the vibrations sent pleasure soaring through my veins. He began pumping his fingers once more, curling them against my wall and rubbing against my gspot.

I writhed on the bed, clutching at the sheets because of the amount of pleasure.

"Fuck..."

"You gonna cum for me doll?", he growled against me.

I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip as my orgasm coursed through me. MY walls clenched around his skilled fingers and his tongue didn’t stop running over your clit, making my legs tremble.

When my orgasm started to slow down he got up and took his clothes off, throwing them anywhere. Before he sat back down between my thighs, I watched him put on a condom through barely open eyelids.

Without a warning and therefor without giving me the time to over think this he plunged his cock into me. I gasped at his size and raked my nails down his back.

The pain was sharp and unknown.

"God you feel so good baby."

He crashed his lips against mine, stifling my moan as he pulled out of me slowly.

"So tight." He pushed into me again. I was frowning and pushed my eyes closed as I was trying to adjust to him. Fuck, he felt so good at the same time this hurt so bad but in the best way possible.

I moaned and ran my hands over his back as he set a pace with deep and slow thrusts. He wanted me to feel every inch of him entering me and he lost himself in the little whimpers I made as he pushed into me. After a few more thrusts when the pain was starting to die down, he pulled out of me and knelt on the bed.

"Rollover", he ordered.

I bit my lip and obeyed, kneeling in front of him on all fours. Duff let out a breath as he looked at my ass.

I felt him run his cock over my center before he pushed into me once more.

"Duff...", I hissed.

His change of angle set a whole new sense of pleasure and he set a faster pace. It hurt but felt so good... His cock slammed into me and I collapsed against the mattress, falling onto my elbows, arching my back more in doing so.

He brought his hand down swiftly, slapping my ass and making me gasp.

Duff gripped my hips and I moaned between breaths as he picked up a fast and hard pace, slamming into me hard and fast. He leaned forward and pulled my hair into a ponytail, his thrusts never slowing down. With a gentle tug at my hair he pulled me back onto all fours and with his spare hand he reached under me.

His fingers found my clit and he rubbed clumsy circles. I bit my lip, trying to contain my moans and arched my back. He leant over me, his breath on my shoulder and hearing his staggered breathing sent me into overdrive. He released his grip in my hair only to wrap his hand around your throat gently and pull me back enough so he could turn my head around to kiss him. Just what I needed.

"You gonna cum for me?"

I attempted to nod, which proved difficult with his grip on my throat. He didn't wait for an answer though and rubbed his fingers over my clit faster.

"Cum for me, babygirl."

I lost all control, my eyes rolling back as the waves of pleasure rolled through me, sending shivers all over my skin. His pace was sloppy now and I knew he was almost ready as well. He slowly pulled away and turned on his back so I knelt down on wobbly legs. I removed the condom and licked along his throbbing cock and he let out a low moan. I took him as deep as I could and began to suck him off until he grasped his cock and pumped it a few times before coming in my mouth.

I swallowed his load and his deep moans send a few last chills through me.

Both of us collapsed against the sheets, a sheer layer of sweat covering my skin as I tried to catch my breath.

"Shit that was good", he exhaled and placed a lazy kiss on my shoulder. "Yes, it was", I thought and grinned to myself, trying to process what had happened.

#guns n roses #smut #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan smut #duff mckagan x reader

[burnedbyshoto]

shinsou and the very terrible, horrible, no good, very bad shift

— You, a new sidekick, screw up a case for a Pro Hero Shinsou, and he demands compensation.

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pairing: older!shinsou hitoshi x younger fem!reader

warnings: age gap (shinsou 25, reader 18), nsfw, 18+, pwp, DEGRADATION, power imbalance, spanking, marking, cursing, shinsou is a major asshole, mindbreak, sorta subspace, happy ending for shinsou, depending on person unhappy ending for reader, public sex, dubcon because of power imbalance

word count: 3,892

a/n: happy halloween. this is mean degradation imo like I thought ive done degradation but this made all those look like praise kink. be careful and click out if its too much

kinktober day 20 main kink: degradation | kinktober masterlist

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How you ever forgot that as a high school hero-in-training student, you were a big fish in a tiny pond was beyond you. Well, to be quite honest, you never thought yourself to be a big fish, to begin with.

You were eighteen, a few months from turning nineteen and had just graduated from the hero course over at UA. That in itself was a huge accomplishment, one that you should take with bubbling pride and joy, but to be quite honest, having such a big name attached to you only made you nervous. To tell the truth, you often wondered just why a hero within the top 50 even scouted you to work as an intern with them and then offer you a position as a sidekick as soon as you entered your third year. Still, it seemed to be a common predicament with BMI Hero: FatGum.

Today was your first day on the job, no longer a student part of a hero work-study, but as a physical, government paid hero — a fickle sidekick! You shuddered as you slipped on the shoes to your outfit, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you made your way out of the locker room, ready to report to your first assignment.

FatGum agency was quite a lovely place, loud and warm, being the first two adjectives you thought of when you first joined their ranks. It did wonders for your self-esteem, and seeing newly turned Pro Hero Suneater, who apparently was a million times more of a nervous mess than you were, made you feel oddly in good hands.

But still, nothing could keep you from the shock that ran through your body when FatGum proudly thrust forward a patrol route for you to follow.

“Alright, pipsqueak,” FatGum jovially spoke, his eyes closed while he smiled. “This is your route for the day! It should take about an hour to get through unless anything happens! You’ll go on the route every three hours, and in between those patrols, it’s the same paper system as before! Good luck out there, y/h/n, you got this!”

“Oh my god, no, I do not?!” you spluttered, hands shaking wildly as you went through the folder Fat had so quickly presented. “What if I die?!”

“You’ll be fine. Remember how Deku and Ground Zero complimented you the other day?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, your face burning with your shame as you remembered that confrontation. “But that only happened because Deku is a living saint, and I spilled my noodles all over him and Ground Zero! Ground Zero was also, by the way, forced to compliment me by Deku! And all he said was that my combat skills were absolutely shitty but not as shitty as he thought they would be!”

“Ah yes, I remember Red Riot discussing how his friend was less than inept at expressing his gratitude,” FatGum hummed in memory, although that dumb, proud smile never left his face. “If I remember correctly, that means he has great respect for you!”

You made a dying noise at the back of your throat.

“But Deku doesn’t lie! He speaks honestly, so all his compliments were definitely true. Now, y/h/n, let's get through this day together, ne?”

You didn’t agree, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing you out to the streets, your heart hammering in your throat as you walked through the path he used to take you on every day. Your smile was shaky and wobbly as the people you recognized waved and cheered you on. They were all excited to see you on your own. 

However, they did point out that you were here an entire hour earlier than usual, but hey! That’s what happened when you went from being a student to trying to function as an adult!

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you chanted as you passed by the spookiest alleyway on your patrol.

The hour-long patrol was almost done if your watch wasn’t lying to you: a full patrol and not a single instance of needing to help. Well, you had assisted some people in carrying groceries and holding a child as a mother shopped for dinner that night, but there were no altercations, nothing out of the ordinary. 

You marched through the alleyway, your fists in a shaky clenched grip as cold, nervous sweat dripped down your neck.

You were okay, you are okay, you will be okay.

“Nothing to be afraid of! Just a normal, average, no villains insight day!” you spoke to yourself, your body shaking as you pass an opening in the alleyway, and you turn your head to look and freeze.

“Alright, and I don’t want fucking nobody hearing goddamn shit about this drug, got it?!” a man with a quirk that made him look like a blowfish snapped.

Six men stood in the alleyway, all with tall, massive, threatening vibes. You didn’t make a single noise; you knew that for a fact, but their gazes still fell on you the moment the man stopped speaking. A horrible, stupid movie cliche that happened too often in hero life.

Your life probably flashed before your eyes at that single moment, your body and mind instinctively moving to call the heroes before realizing that you were the hero now. What do you do?! What could you do?! Drugs?! Did they have drugs?!

Panicking greatly, you watched their mouths move, but you couldn’t hear them as you took in their faces in a blur. Before you knew it, your mind shut down, and your body took over. You weren’t sure what it was. If you were way stronger than the entire group or if you just had an untapped potential that burst open right now, because you blinked and suddenly there were all thrown onto the floor, busted and bloody and tied up.

You… you did it?!

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, your hands rising to your mouth as you looked at each and every one of their smushed, dirty faces. “I WON?! I won, oh my god, I won — wait?!”

You stepped over to the purple-haired man on the floor, his mouth stuffed with a cloth fabric you probably shoved in there at some point.

“M-Mindjack-sensei?!” you cried, your excitement of betting this drug handoff simmering off immediately. “W-What are you doing? Were you gonna stop this drug handoff? I — oh my god, let me get this off!” You scrambled to get the restraints off of Shinsou, unaware of the way the other captured men glared at Shinsou, utterly shocked and betrayed as you cleared him.

“Thank you for the capture, y/h/n!” a police officer congratulated you as you freed Shinsou, and you smiled, nodding your head. “Is it just four of them?”

You froze.

You had counted six men at first, and with Shinsou recovered, that made five men.

“I didn’t… I lost one of them?” you deflated, all sense of confidence draining you as Shinsou remained on the floor.

“Ah,” the police officer grimaced, his head shaking before he paused and looked up at you with a halfhearted smile. “Well, you still did good work! We’ll see what drug they were talking about, and if it’s nothing too crazy, they’ll be good to go!”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile weakly, feeling ready to cry as you hold onto your wrist.

“But, uh, who’s the guy on the ground?” he nodded towards Shinsou, who was looking entirely pissed off and ready to bite like some cornered, raging animal.

“Oh, Mindjack!” you respond, hands motioning toward one of the other older Pro Heroes you looked up to. 

The police officer stared at Shinsou, an unconvinced look on his face.

“I thought he was… ah, well, old? And didn’t he have black hair?” he muttered before shrugging. You didn’t manage to stutter out your knowledge of the older man with black hair being Eraserhead because he was long gone already, fingers pressed to his radio, chatting with his HQ.

Breathing out a nervous sigh, you turned to Shinsou with a shy and fully apologetic smile. “I am so sorry for hurting you! Are you okay?” you asked, your eyes scanning the older heroes' stance, unable to read anything but annoyance radiating from his body. 

“No, I’m not okay, actually,” Shinsou spat, his face finally looking up from the floor, and you felt your throat run thick at the rage and anger simmering from his face. 

“W-Wha—” you stammer, taking a step back, overwhelmed.

“You just fucking ruined six months of undercover work,” he seethed, his feet moving to stalk towards you. You found yourself stumbling backward, looking everywhere but at him. You can feel your balance giving; the cold filth of the alleyway wall your saving grace as his fingers grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face him. His purple eyes black in his fury. “I don’t think you realized just how badly you fucked up?! You stupid fucking child!”

A wash of ice-cold realization flooded through you, the horror of what you knew you just did completely dawning on you as tears sprung in your eyes. You felt nauseous, utterly sick to your stomach because this seasoned Pro Hero definitely had shit to do, and you practically shat all over it.

“I am so sorry,” you whimper, pain shooting through you just slightly at the grip he has on your chin. “I am so so sorry, i-is there anything that I c-can do?! How can I-I fix it?!”

“You think I need help from some crybaby?” Shinsou snapped, thoroughly unimpressed by you, his eyes narrowing further. You didn’t even realize you were crying already. 

“I-I’m useful, I promise!” you cry a bit more, your body struggling as the older hero trapped you against the wall, his face glowering down at you with the intensity of a million suns. “I-I’m a sidekick over a-at Fatgum’s agency, but, oh fuck, I’m so sorry! I’ll do anything you ask of me!”

There’s a looming silence, a heavy tension as his eyes drop from your eyes to your parted wet lips. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel every heavy breath expelling on your face. 

“You think a pathetic, worthless little sidekick is able to do anything for me?” Shinsou snapped, his eyes narrowing as he loomed even closer. “A pathetic fucking bitch like you? I don’t think you can give me even a simple fucking action that would prove your worth.”

The words are hot embers on your ears, making your jaw drop, and your body trembles at the simple degradation. You feel your tears hot on your cheeks, your parted lips invaded by his dirt-covered fingers as he pressed onto your tongue. It had to be the shock of it, the reality of the hot, hard dick pressing into your stomach and the way he was staring at you like some piece of fucking meat, but you gagged around his fingers.

“Why am I not fucking surprised, you goddamn fucking whore,” he sneered, his fingers shoving faster into your mouth, pressing dangerously hard against your tongue, trying to get you to gag and choke around his fingers. “You fucking sure you’re a fucking sidekick? Look at you, pathetic, stupid, crying like a baby in an alleyway? You’re a hero, aren’t you? Fucking save yourself from this, you fucking bitch.”

You violently shake, your hands finding themselves tethered to his shirt, your head shaking nonetheless.

“Oh, you don’t want to save yourself?” He coos, his expression turning the slightest bit amused, maybe a bit possessive, but it lasts a second. You blink, and anger has replaced the amusement, red streaking in his vision. “Why the fuck not?”

“B-Because,” you strangle, your tongue flat against your mouth, your throat instinctively opening and closing against his fingers. “I said I’ll do anything y-you wanted!”

There’s another pause, and you wait pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with your anxiety and weird turned-on state. Shinsou was a Pro Hero, someone who was eight years older than you, someone you had respected since you were in grade school. Yet, here you were, looking nothing more than a slab of meat to him, a hole for him to abuse in his anger because you had fucked up.

“Oh, you stupid fucking slut,” he laughed, his teethed bared into a feral smirk. “You want this, huh. You want to please me any way I see fucking fit, fucking perfect. Turn around.”

There’s no room to argue or think; he turns you around without a second's notice. His hand shoving your chest into the wall, and you cry at the discomfort. He grabs your ass, pushing you uncomfortably into an arched position as he tears your pants down from your legs.

 “You’re a worthless fucking cumdump. Not even noon yet, and I’m going use your fucking body however I see fit.” Shinsou promises, fingers raking down your supple ass. Nails tearing into your skin, fingers slapping your covered cunt. “You worthless fucking slut, dirty fucking whore, already goddamn wet.”

“I’m n-not wet!” you cry, hips spasming against his rough hold, and slaps to your aching cunt. You know it’s a lie, you know that clear as day, but it doesn’t keep you from lying. Doesn’t stop you from shivering when he pinches at the cloth of your panties and removes them from your sopping wet folds.

“You think I don’t know if you’re wet or not?” Shinsou growled in warning, his fingers pinching together your soaked folds. An action that makes you cry loudly, the sharp pain too much for you. “You think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“N-No!” you cry, his fingers shifting to where your throbbing entrance is and his other hand going to your mouth, once again claiming your lips as his nails purposefully impose pain on your heated cunt. 

“You must think that since you’re lying to me,” he snaps, his mouth pressed to your ear, his hot breaths making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You want to speak up, say something, but his fingers are fucking your mouth, keeping you from speaking back. “But again, you aren’t fucking worth anything, are you? You’re not fucking anything.”

Those words whip against your skin, making you twist in his arms, hot tears pushing past your eyes again as you cry.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” Shinsou comments, his fingers pinching and pulling your tongue, and his hips begin to grind his hot, burning flesh into your ass. “Well, you better stop fucking crying because I’m not gonna stop until I’m fucking done — until I’m fucking relieved. This isn’t about you; this is for me. You aren’t shit, fucking worthless piece of shit whore.”

You sob into the brick wall, the tears unable to be stopped, unable to clear as his fingers that were scraping at your folds begin to fuck you at the same time as he fingers your mouth faster. The sensation of being outside, finger fucked in an alleyway by a Pro Hero you admired and respected beyond comparison, made you tremble with want and need. His cruel, completely degrading words a warm fire in your belly and against your skin. 

The sounds of the wet caverns he was currently fucking begin to echo in the wall, his throbbing cock grinding against your ass. It’s a sensation that makes you cry with need, your ass shifting back to feel him more, to get more from the contact he’s giving you.

“Of course some screwup like you likes this shit,” Shinsou grunted, his fingers fishing and rubbing against the spongy warmth of your walls, fingers scraping ever so gently against the velvetiness. You spasm against his touch, your whiney, pleasure-filled noises filling up the alleyway almost as loudly as the choking and the squelching of your pussy.

His hands suddenly leave your mouth, and you’re heaving at the deserted feeling in your mouth. You whip your head around, trying to see just why he had abandoned your mouth, desperate to please him more in any way he saw fit. But instead, you’re met with the sicky coldness of your saliva spread across your face. Almost instantly drying against your face as your still tear-soaked eyes looked into his dark ones.

“Don’t look so fucking sad, stupid cockslut,” Shinsou snapped, his hand that had been fucking your cunt abandoning your warmth and meeting your face. You whined, unable to come up with words as he spreads your slick against your face. A shiver wrecks your spine, a pathetic whimper at the smell, and the feel of the warm thickness of your slick. “You wanted this, fucking asked me to wreck your worthless holes.”

“I-I’m not sad,” you try to defend yourself, your body shaking as you feel the heated warmth of his cock suddenly between the curves of your ass. It presses heavily onto you, skin twitching and throbbing with its emitting warmth and simmering heat. 

Shinsou pauses, his eyes deadly and threatening as he glares at you. Unamusement heavy in his gaze, his mouth set in a small, teeth-baring snarl. “Then why the fuck are you crying? You think you deserve to be crying right now? No. You fucking worthless slut, you don’t. You ruined my damn shift, my damn case, I should be the one fucking crying. Your pathetic ass is worthless and tried to make my life the same, and that won’t fucking fly.”

The words tighten at your throat, your body trembling as tears continue to flow. His words are white-hot against your skin, and although it hurts to hear it, your cunt clenches in response, slicking even more.

His hand comes down suddenly onto your ass. The slap sharp and stinging, echoing loudly against the alleyway walls as you scream in pain. It throbs, your back contorting as you try to stretch the skin that makes you ache. But Shinsou spanks your ass again, without warning, his hand unmerciful against your soft, swelling flesh. You yelp again.

He spanks again, and again, and again. Each echoing action sending your voice screaming, counting them without even being told, succumbed to him and his every action and thought without needing to be. He spanks you until your ass feels raw and bloody, the bruises undoubtedly forming as he pinches the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Stick your ass out more,” he growls, tugging at the fold, making you stumble. The cock pressing onto the split of your ass feels heavy, and you twitch at the seeping pre-cum dripping onto your muscled rim. The bricks scratch at your face, and you find your ass wiggling out further from the wall, your back arched more as the cold wall sings through the clothes on your breast. “I’m not gonna put more fucking effort into fucking a goddamn worthless bitch than I should.”

And with that, your ass perfectly exposed for him to use and fuck. His throbbing cock presses through your pussy and slams all the way into you.

There were many pains you were used to as an aspiring hero. You were used to being punched, kicked, stabbed, thrown about, etc. Each of those pains were something you had been taught to make feel better, each pain demonstrated to you so that it wouldn’t be the thing that took you out. But there was no training for the way that his thick cock pressed through your impossibly tight entrance. There was no pain that could relate to the white fire of your rapidly fluttering entrance that was trying too hard to keep up with his slamming thick cock.

“IT HURTS!” you shriek, body twisting, tears flooding your cheeks as you feel weak in the legs. Body moments from falling. “It hurts so much! Please! It hurts!”

“Oh? It hurts? It's supposed to fucking hurt you fucking idiot, fucking whore,” Shinsou snapped in return, his hips firing into even faster than before. His massive body practically caving onto you as his cock rockets into you. Unforgiving, relentless, and with the drive to make him cum. Your vision swirls and spins as the pain reaches its peak, your mouth opening, your voice no longer working. But oh, how the saliva dripped from your mouth as his hands abandoned your waist to grab onto your stretched cheeks. He held onto your cheeks like some gag, slamming your head into his chest so your dazed eyes could stare up at him as his menacing gaze bore down on you. “You think this was supposed to make you feel good? I don’t give a shit if you cum. This is for me. I’m not fucking stopping until I’m done using you, so shut the fuck up.”

Your whimper is soft, no longer able to keep up with the pleasure your body begins to reach as the pain becomes one of pure bliss. Your eyes crossing as every thrust of his welcomed cock drives you further and further up the wall. The squelching of your meeting sexes almost sounds like a nursery rhyme. A pleasant noise that makes you giggle deliriously as Shinsou continues to degrade you continues to spout how insignificant you are.

“Your only purpose in your shit life is to be my fucking cumdump, fucking bitch, do you understand me?” Shinsou spat, his thrusting becoming barbaric, stammering in his power and speed. You laugh, your head nodding as you stare up at him with loving eyes, the drool and tears on your face trailing down your throat, soaking your uniform. “Tell me what your purpose is?”

“To be your cumdump!” you laugh, elation bubbling in your chest, fluttering deep around your cunt until you felt Shinsou’s teeth sink into your throat.

The feeling of hot, sticky cum expelling into your cunt feels like blistering euphoria, his heavy, rough breathing on your skin, making you moan softly. Your own orgasm hits, much softer, much more controlled than his as your walls clamp down like a vice around him. Your orgasm is warm, sounding deep within you that you almost didn’t realize you were dropped to the floor.

A soft, pitiful moan sounds from your lip, your eyes focused on Shinsou, who’s shoving his limp cock back into his pants, but his eyes are on the skyline.

“I-I’m sorry for messing up your… your case,” you rasp on the floor. 

Shinsou shifts on his feet, his gaze lingering longer onto the skyline before finally setting onto you. The anger seems to have disappeared, a look of slight boredom but the excitement in his eyes as he leans down over you. You feel breathless when his mouth presses against yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I think you just helped me keep my cover, slut; maybe you do have some worth,” he laughed against your mouth.

He leaves you there, your body going limp and blackness taking over the moment he disappears.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #tw: dubcon #bbs kinktober 2020

[jostepherjoestar]

An Educational Favour: IV

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Formaggio x reader and Risotto close by, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, taking it slooooow, butt stuff (penetration), discussion of prepping too!, the tension between ris and you is just.. wow

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART IV: 🧀Formaggio🧀

You slumped down on the beanbag that huffed under your movements, a few kernels that filled the bag twirling as the air pushed them out. Just like the seating you let out a long sigh, pulling the thick sweater sleeves over your hands and sitting on them in annoyance, trying to stop yourself from nervously chewing on your nails. Nothing felt right today, the way the sun barely broke through the clouds causing a dreary mood to settle on home-base, every glance in the mirror making you tug at your appearance, straightening your posture in attempt to look even slightly appealing to your own critical mind. Choosing the bulky sweater and your soft pyjama pants to grace the figure you so condemned today. Not all days are meant to be great but it was a disappointing start since later on you’d made plans to go on another titillating adventure, this time with the easygoing man named Formaggio. You weren’t dreading it but after you spilt your coffee all over the kitchen counter this morning and stubbed your toes on the heavy couch that rested a few meters away from you, glaring at it while sat in the one thing that couldn’t hurt you for now, you weren’t sure if today would even go right. 

The entire atmosphere seemed to move against you, like a migrating salmon moving upstream, waiting for a bear to come put you out of your misery. Speaking of bears… Risotto’s large figure waltzed into the room as you huffed out an amused chuckle as you imagined him sinking his claws into your scaly body and tearing at your flesh. Not quite the ravaging you’d asked him for. “Is everything alright there?” His familiar deep voice coaxing you out of the conflicting fantasy to meet his gaze. It seemed that today had also claimed your capo as their unfortunate victim. Thin black coloured metal frames resting on his shapely nose, the one that reminded you so much of Michelangelo’s David, carefully chiseled after much consideration. He reserved his glasses for off days, just like his relaxed outfit of pyjama pants and a black robe, the sparkling image of comfort. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Today just feels… off.” Resounding the last word in perfect unison before Risotto chuckled, the sound alone unearthing a pleasant feeling. “Let’s hope Formaggio is in good spirits.” He huffed while taking a seat on the creaky leather couch, groaning a bit as he stretched his arms over the backrest. 

“What was that about being in a good mood?” The smooth cadence ringing out into the quiet space of the living room. His words followed by a long stretched out yawn, feet dragging over the wooden floor as if lifting them were an arduous chore. It seemed the universe claimed yet another one into the lazy mood, like it forced all to remain seated or else you’d face its wrath of misfortune. Not that a peaceful day hadn’t been a welcome one, the strain of working jobs could lay heavily on the shoulders of La Squadra Esecuzioni. “Today’s a bit shit, huh?” Groans of approval coming from the two men lounging on the couch. “What are we gonna do about tonight? Cancel?” You spoke up, worried that it just wasn’t the right day and you’d have to reschedule which would mean a longer wait and some shuffling of the roster to make it work out. 

“Nah, too much of a bother. Besides, maybe it’ll work out just fine. No one’s home right now anyway.” It was true, it would be a bother and no one was home besides the three of you, all out on their respective assignments. You silently wished them all a more successful day considering the mood. You hummed in agreement as you got up to join them on the leather seats, trying to choose the perfect spot. But between Risotto’s large figure spread out so widely and Formaggio not really bothering to close his legs, there was no more room to speak of. “Hey! What about me?” You whined, tugging at the hem of your soft sweater, not up for a fight. “Got a special seat right here lady.” Formaggio’s smug grin darting between your figure and the space between his groin and the couch. You shot your capo a pleading look, begging him to step in like an annoyed child asking their mother to scold their older sibling. 

“Don’t look at me, we’re all adults here.” That little smirk starting to dent his cheek ever so slightly, letting you know there was no ally to be found in your dark eyed colleague. He looked so handsome and refined wearing those frames, different than his usual rugged state that was no less attractive. “As I said… there’s no one home but us.” The grey haired man smothering his words in a heavy helping of salaciousness as he eyed you up again. Sensing the shifting mood, letting a few familiar tingles loose inside of you as you fidgeted, unsure if you should take the bait. “I-I haven’t gotten ready yet, Formaggio. I look like a mess!” Today’s critical mind still gnawing at you, never one to easily back down. You’d been glad your previous partners had received the confident you that was her own proud cheerleader, but today she was on break, leaving you in front of a filled stadium with no remorse. “Pfft. A mess? Jesus, you couldn’t look bad if you tried. I’ll show you just how pretty you are, inside and out.” He gestured you over again, his expression a bit sterner to meet the seriousness of his words. It wasn’t just to make you feel better, he was being truthful. Risotto just admired from his comfortable crook, wishing to chime in on the complements but opting to just let Formaggio do the sweet talking. 

You finally take him up on the offer and slid in between his legs, letting his arms slip through your elbows to cradle you into his touch as he pressed his torso closer to your back. Hot breaths tickled your neck, a sensitive shudder moving through you, straight down into your panties. Grabbing onto his hand that locked you into him as he gently moved aside your hair to place wet kisses along your neck. Lazily sucking at your tender skin, making you let out a small moan when another shiver ran through you, earning a chuckle from him. “Are you always this sensitive? Then again, by the sounds I’ve heard coming from you, that might be true.” Feeling his surprisingly soft lips curl into a smile as he continued leaving marks. Remembering just how audible you’ve been with the rest, bringing a blush to your cheeks as your skin heated in reaction. You could feel Risotto’s laser-focus on you, admiring just how cutely you were reacting to the intimate pecks. 

As Formaggio made his way to your cheek, planting more wet sloppy kisses wherever he felt like, you felt his grip around you loosen and his hand snaking under your sweater to grope your chest. Toying with your nipple through the fabric of your thin bralette, his pulls and teases only making you more satisfied with the choice of undergarments. Your soft pants were cut off by his lips ghosting over yours, deep hums tickling you as he lingered over them, basking in the barely-there touch. His movements remained at such a leisurely pace, so intoxicating it subdued any feelings of impatience, his actions reflecting his personality; lax and engaging.

His plump lips like a warm hug as he met yours, hand still kneading your breast as a tentative squeeze made you moan into him. Moving in deeper, welcoming him into your awaiting mouth as his curious tongue set the pace to slow and steady. Wet sounds filled the air with the occasional muffled moan. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know that? The way you so eagerly let go, so ready to get lost. You’ve driven us all quite wild, kitten.” Every word sticking to your flushed cheeks like glue as his sweet voice whispered, getting drunk off of his praise. 

“Could you take those off for me sweetheart?” You hummed in reply, he had already been toying at the edge of your soft pyjama bottoms, his head moving back into your neck where he stayed and placed more wet pecks, nibbling at your ear to egg you on. You made quick work of your bottoms, now bare, resting on the leather couch cushions warmed by your combined body heat. “Move up your legs a bit, I’ll treat you so good, darlin’.” You moved back further into him so you could bend your knees and rest your feet on his spread knees. You felt so exposed, cold air contrasting the warmth Formaggio was giving off behind you. Your breasts aching, wanting to feel his touch again as he slid out his hand from under your sweater, his other arm coming around to grasp you like your capo had done so sweetly last time as Ghiaccio pleased you.

Carefully, as if handling a precious work of art, the man let thick fingers slide over your folds, already glistening in your wetness from his sultry work in your neck. His delicateness making your breath hitch and your feet desperately trying to cling onto his knees. “So sensitive, so sweet. You want me to touch you more?” He singsonged so closely into the shell of your ear. He could coax anything out of you if he kept up his alluring pace. As you nodded with a needy moan he slid between them, working a finger aggravatingly slow over your clit. As more mewls escaped while you clung to his thighs, digging into them whenever he rubbed just right, he kept his lazy sucking going, sure he’s left a mark on your neck by now. “Do you want Risotto to touch himself too, just as slowly as us?” He grinned, having heard from Illuso just how much you like that. “Y-yes please.” You stuttered, words having a hard time leaving your lips as he kept up his leisurely movements. 

The creaks of the leather let you know Risotto was doing just as asked, your eyes were too busy being pressed shut from Formaggio’s expert circles to check. “We’re gonna take our time today, kitten.” A cheeky nibble at your earlobe as he spoke so tenderly. The memory of the strange energy that made you question today’s success already a forgotten one, what your were up to now was a lot more worthy to stick around your consciousness. 

Squelching sounds from how incredibly wet the slow pace made you harmonised so well with the barely audible sound of Risotto’s heavier breathing as he calmly stroked himself. The pace urging both of you to remain patient as heat started to build up steadily. Like water slowly rising, a steady flow being let in to painstakingly reach its limit. Formaggio occasionally dipped into your warm hole, slowly collecting your essence and spreading it over your folds. He worked you all over, giving your entire pussy the attention it deserved. As your breathing got heavier with the rising heat of your orgasm, walls clenching around nothingness, his pace didn’t falter, continuing his skilful rubs over your overly sensitive bud. “Do you want to come?” He purred into your neck, breaths so hot and heavy it made you want to combust. “P-please!” You begged so sweetly, he was already planning on letting you come but that whine sent a jolt straight to his hardening cock, twitching as it rubbed against your behind. “Do you want Risotto to come too?” His mischievous question paired with a quick dip between your aching walls. “Not y-yet.” It was an honest reply, you knew Formaggio wasn’t leaving you after rubbing you so nicely. Your capo will have to stretch his patience even thinner and slow his movements even more. The dark eyed man groaning as he heard your reply, but not of annoyance or denying him his pleasure for a little while more. The way you made him obey orders, even as softly as you gave them, made him only want to please you more. This whole endeavour of observing and letting his teammates have a say in his actions greatly aroused him, but most of all it was the slow build up to the end; having you all to himself. 

Formaggio chuckled into your crook, letting you get your wish as he worked you through the rising gratification. The limit had been reached as you breathed out deeply with a loud continuous moan as it overflowed slowly, the peak only dragged out as the grey haired man kept his steady movements going to let you ride it out. Squirming through the ripples, pinching your knees together as you clamped your nails into his thighs to ground yourself from the full body sensation. The pool had stilled, panting as you slowly regained your senses, the feeling of your own wetness dripping onto the couch causing a small smile to appear onto your satisfied face. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to make you come. All those times I heard you, I only wished it was me that was making you feel so good.” A sloppy, wet suck onto your neck that had been lapped so delicately throughout. “Thank you Formaggio.” You sighed, the thought of him stroking himself while the others fucked you such a titillating visual it made your walls clench again. “Oh don’t thank me now, sweetheart. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna go grab something, could you lay down for me?” His voice leading you down as he gently placed your feet back onto the floor.

As he slid out from behind you and left the room, still riding on the high of the thorough orgasm you silently met your capo’s gaze. Stroking his large member ever so slightly, grasping the base firmly while his thumb caressed his sensitive underside. His frames had crept down his nose, his eyes so focused on yours, tethered onto you as you moved closer. The tension so palpable it made your hand tremble as you pushed the bridge of the frames back up his stunning nose. Slowly retracting, clinging onto every bit of self control not to kiss the beautiful specimen in front of you. You hesitated for a second, letting yourself linger in his space before deciding it would be best to move down like Formaggio had asked. It took just as much strength from your capo to restrain his desire, holding back from taking you into his arms. Instead he kept up his increasingly slow strokes, letting his pleasure build.

Formaggio returned, glad to see you’ve positioned yourself like he had asked, head resting near Risotto’s figure while your legs spread out. “I assume you’ve prepped just like I asked, kitten?” The man moved back onto the couch, placing himself between your legs, holding a bottle of clear lube he’d brought with. His gaze so lovingly taking in the blush on your cheeks as you nodded. God you were such a treat, waiting to get ravaged. Somehow, even after literally just making you come, you were a bit embarrassed to admit you prepped yourself to let him play with your ass. “Good girl.” He praised while moving his hands over your legs carefully. “Let’s play first, get you used to it huh?” Moving his bottoms down to meet yours on the floor, his hardened cock just as casual as its owner. Uncut and packing girth as it bobbed while he moved, a small gathering of pre-come beading at the head of his adequate length. 

“We’re going to keep going slow, ok? Don’t get too worked up when my dick’s in your pretty mouth.” That warm chuckle making your muscles relax as he moved over you, his member looming over your face as his warm breaths tickled your inner thighs, opening them further. Remembering his words you nipped at his cock, soft lips pecking the tip as your deft finger moved downward to reveal his head. Languid licks like honey dripping on a cold day; slow and at its own volition. His groan of satisfaction so buttery and smooth into your plush skin. Formaggio’s hands massaged your thighs and hips, kneading them in an attempt to relax every muscle before starting his exploit of your tight hole. 

There’s a first time for everything, the very reason you had embarked on this exploit. As exciting as the last few times were, nervousness remained at the though of letting Formaggio play with a different hole. He’d asked beforehand if you were comfortable with it, his charms doing the talking, relaxing you and assuring it was alright if you weren’t. But that eager curiosity’s hold on you was ever so strong, bravery pushing you further to accept. The preparations he asked of you were simple: clean thoroughly and try out a finger or two when you’re playing with yourself. And to your surprise it was nowhere as bad as you expected, making you all the more excited to let more experienced hands work away at you. 

While it was a struggle to contain your excitement, the relaxed and sloth like aura Formaggio emitted helped you remain calm. Slow, twisting movements over his girth, having received a dollop of the cool gel on your fingers, lewd squelching sounds erupting every time you moved up and down his shaft. You’d suckle on his tip, tongue moving and flicking at the dripping slit, making sure to take all the time in the world while he began rubbing over your hole. The previously chilly lubed fingers heating up considerably, the way you were burning up from the sensation spreading through you. The slick tip of his thick finger gently pressing in while he groaned, mumbling how tight you were under his breath. As he moved his finger deeper it made you stop rubbing him for a second, regaining your breath, trying to relax your muscles so you’d enjoy the sensation. 

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re doing good. We’re gonna keep going before I stuff you with my dick.” Your moan vibrating through his hard cock when he pulled out. Only to return with another finger, adding even more of the slick lube. As he moved in you felt your walls contract in pleasure, your core aching for stimulation as Formaggio started pumping in and out to work you open. Moaning louder and louder, the pleasure so different than anything else you’ve experienced. Saliva dripped out of the corner of your mouth, salivating while you took his heavy sack in your mouth to play with them. The way he let out a hiss while you felt them twitch let you know just how much he liked it. 

You were getting so worked up by his actions, patience growing ever thinner as you wished for him to fill you up. “Formaggio I need you. Please fuck me.” A whiny beg, so needy. It only made him chuckle, your eagerness so endearing. His teammates weren’t wrong when they said you were such a good girl. “Can’t deny you, now can I?” He grinned while moving over you, placing himself between your legs, admiring the way your pussy was still dripping and awaiting any new form of stimulation. It almost made him feel bad that he would be working your tight little asshole instead. Almost. 

His shaft was still thoroughly wet from the way you slobbered all over him, mixed with the generous dollop of lube he’d provided you with. His spongy tip prodding at the tight muscle, shushing you and kneading your hips to let you relax. As he slowly entered, letting you engulf his tip he waited, hissing and groaning at the feeling of your walls constricting him. “Fuck, you are so damn tight!” Letting himself gently work further into you, the feeling of his thick cock so delicious inside you while you whined. He finally let his hand that guided his thickness inside of you go, letting his hips set a gradual pace. Those skilful fingers now moving back to rub soft circles on your aching clit, the return so welcome as you moaned loudly at the simultaneous stimulation. Back arching off the couch as you felt your pleasure earn footing again, building slowly just like before. “Risotto… Speed up.”

Your command a welcome one to your throbbing capo, his length now a dark red from the prolonged stimulation, questioning if there was any blood left in his body that hadn’t rushed to his cock. As if a conductor urging their orchestra, harmonising moans and groans filled the room, your capo finally letting himself get comfortable with being a little more noisy. Formaggio felt his own pace falter, speeding up to chase his release as his circles on your clit grew faster and tighter. Moving in tandem with his thrusts inside your strained hole, he felt you clench, milking him, bringing him just at his limit before he pulled out. He continued at a fervent pace over your bud, his other hand stroking his shaft as thick ropes of pearly cum landed on your stomach after he moved up your sweater. His buttery voice so beautifully hoarse now when his breath hitches during his orgasm. Just as he did, your own followed, the familiar waves of pleasure careening through you, pressing your eyes shut, letting yourself get back down from the peak. 

Not even needing a command, Risotto came too. A groan so sweet and deep, his body tensing up and twitching at his long awaited peak. Thick strokes of cum landed in your hair, the man behind you not expecting the orgasm to hit so hard. “Shit!” It only made you giggle at the feeling, knowing you’d end up in the shower anyway. You set yourself back straight on the cushions, blush still covering your cheeks and chest, the sweater getting too hot and constricting. Taking it off along with your bralette, sighing at the satisfaction of the newfound experience. “Was that any good?” Formaggio huffed as he tiredly slid down next to you, a gentle hand squeezing your thigh. “More than good Maggi. You’re really good with your hands.” Chuckling at the way his ministrations made bliss flood all over your body. “Why don’t you tidy up here. I’ll get her cleaned up.” Risotto’s voice surprised you, when he remained so still in his corner, breaths so soft you barely heard them; it was like he’d merged with the couch itself. “Yea sure, whatever you say.” Formaggio looked about ready to pass out, eyes drooping as he slid deeper into the couch, all tuckered out from his work. 

It felt nice to have Risotto be so adamant on taking care of you afterwards. A ritual he didn’t want to let another indulge in. Even last time, after the cuddle session that followed Ghiaccio’s meeting, he insisted on helping you get cleaned. Not that his face would let it show, but he felt dejected when you replied you’d take a shower yourself, any more stimulation to your skin setting it aflame after the rough get-together. 

Just like before he ran a bath for you, letting the soft bubbles grow bigger. He looked so adorable now, those glasses really suited him, offering a softer balance to his features. “You look very cute in those Risotto, you should wear them more often.” You chuckled while staring up at him from the warm tub. He had stayed and rested on the side, having taken off his robe so he could dabble his arm in the water. He looked a little too deep in thought, staring at the ripples his movements created through the foam. “Do you want to get in?” Your cute smile and that bright twinkle in your eyes so alluring, like a siren in his very own residence. He had been thinking about it, wanting to hug you close while you gently got each other all washed up. “No, it’s ok. Later. Take your time.” His deep sigh making you question if that’s what he actually wanted. You willed yourself not to get too caught up, not to assume what he’d been thinking. 

For now you’d just try and relax, soaking up the heat from the relaxing bath and checking off another wish. Your memory book starting to get quite full of experience thanks to your teammates. The last three candidates left offering the final challenges. A devious grin at the thought of the final champions. 

#woof risotto and reader are really building shit up huh #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #formaggio x reader #risotto x reader #jjba smut #la squadra #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jjba imagines #not sfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #formaggio

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter II

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blossoms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); no use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 7.3k

also I guess this is now an AU where Grogu becomes a foundling and Din and Paz are besties.

You woke the next morning fairly early but nowhere near as early as yesterday. The sun was already high in the sky. 

You showered and dressed for the day, and then began deciding what to pack. You had a fairly large backpack, and decided that’s what you’d pack in. You shoved the few shirts you had into the bottom, followed by a pair of leggings, then your coveralls. On top of those went the holopad and a few holo photos of you, Aliria, and a few of your friends you’d made on Dantooine. That was all you cared to bring, really. Everything else had no importance, and you didn’t have the room to bring it. 

“Whoever you sell it to can have the stuff that’s in it,” you tell Aliria over breakfast. “Or you can have it. I think I’d prefer it if you have it.” 

Aliria wasn't going to sell your stuff, even if you told her to. “I’ll keep it, dear,” she said as she poured you some tea. “I’ve been eyeing that sofa since you got it.” 

“Oh, trust me,” you said. “I noticed.” She laughed, her eyes lighting up with almost as much life as her voice. 

You looked at her, taking her presence in. “I’m scared, Ali,” you said. She cocked an eyebrow and put her hand on yours, asking why without words. “I forgot how scary it is to start a new life.”

“You’re strong, dear,” she squeezed your hand. “Your General Organa will take care of you, not as well as me, of course, but I’m sure she will.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Always so confident, Ali.” You sat in a gentle silence while you ate, lost in thought. 

-

You said goodbye to your mentor in private, embracing her tightly as she reassured you that you were strong, you were capable. When you emerged from Aliria’s house it seemed like the whole town was waiting for you, even the Mandalorian, though he stood quite far off. 

“We’re going to miss you, you know,” Tom, the mechanic, said. 

You smiled at him. “I’ll miss you too, Tom.” 

“What about me?” Zenith said.

You pulled him into a hug. “You’re a good kid, Zen,” you tell him. “Keep it that way, yeah?” He nodded. You felt your eyes well up as you pulled some of your closest friends into hugs. 

Eventually, you’d hugged everyone at least twice, and there was no way around leaving. It was time to go. “Alright, Mando,” you called to him, trying to keep an air of happiness in your strained voice. “I’m ready!” 

You slung your bag over your shoulder and he came to walk beside you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back, knowing everyone was standing there. The Mandalorian put a big hand on the top of your back, some kind of gesture of comfort, you thought. 

He cleared his throat under the helmet. You’d been walking a little while, the town was no longer in view, and the ship was starting to take form in the distance. “You ok, kebiin’ika?” 

“Not really, Mando,” you say. “But I will be.” His hand had not wavered from your back, and you were glad. His touch was soft, despite the thick gloves and his intimidating demeanor. As his touch burned into your back, you thought of Aliria’s words: I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband, she’d said. Maybe she was right, you’d thought, allowing your mind to wonder what it’d be like to come home to the Mandalorian. This is silly, you scolded yourself. You don’t even know his name. Stop it. 

The Mandalorian was thinking about the same thing. Wondering what’d it’d be like to introduce you to the covert, to court you in the proper Mandalorian way, to watch you meet the foundlings. He, too, stops himself. He isn’t naive. 

Finally, the two of you arrived at the ship. The Mandalorian’s hand hesitantly left your back, and he motioned for you to board ahead of him. “Go ahead, kebiin’ika.” You felt your feet leave Dantooine’s soil and felt your heart get heavier. Still, you pushed forward onto the ship. It wasn’t the biggest craft, but it had a refresher, a bedroom, and one bunk out in the open. 

“The bedroom is through there,” the Mandalorian said, gesturing towards the back of the ship. “You’ll sleep in there, I’ll sleep out here.”

You shook your head. “I’m not taking your bed, Mando.”

“You are,” he said. “I don’t mind the bunk. It’s really not that bad.”

You sighed. “I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer.”

“You have good instincts, then, kebiin’ika,” he replied and made his way to the cockpit. You went the opposite direction, towards the bedroom. The door slid open with a woosh to reveal the room. Room was a generous word for the bed that was shoved into what was probably a storage compartment. The bed took up most of the space but there was one little nightstand that was no wider than a foot. It was just large enough for a chrono and a glass of water. 

The bed itself had a quilt on it, made with all different colors and different sized blocks, and was obviously hand sewn. It reminded you of the quilt in Aliria’s living room that stayed folded on the back of her chair. Another pang of sadness in your heart. The pillow was flat and bare, you’d probably have to fold it in half to get some semblance of comfort from it. You dropped your backpack onto the bed, and left the room.

Entering the cockpit, the Mandalorian was pressing buttons on the ships dashboard, and you silently prayed to whoever was listening that the rust bucket of a ship would get off the ground. “Everything look ok?” you asked. 

“So far so good,” he said. “Now sit down and buckle up, we’ll see if it’ll fly.” You obeyed, sitting in the chair next to him and fastening the clasps of the seatbelt. When you looked back up from the clasps, the blue helmet was staring right at you. “Are you sure about this, kebiin’ka?” he asked. “I’m not trying to break my end of the deal, but you don’t seem like you want to leave.”

You nodded. “Yes, I have to do this. It’s important,” you told him. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be sad.”

“Alright, then off to Yavin IV,” he said, and began initiating take off protocols. You lifted out of the clearing in the trees slowly, and as you got higher up you could see the town. The people were still congregated in the middle of town from the good-byes. 

Eventually, you were out of the atmosphere and into space.  The journey was going to be short, especially with the hyperspace jump. Just under 12 hours and you’d be on Yavin’s fourth moon. 

“Jumping in 3, 2, 1,” he said and the ship jolted and the ship became shrouded in the swirling blue light of hyperspace. “Have you ever been to Yavin IV?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I lived there for awhile.” You loved Yavin IV when you’d lived there, despite the circumstances of your residency. The forests were beautiful, the climate was lovely. You remember watching Leia presenting medals to the newest heroes of the Rebellion. 

“Oh,” he said. “Why’d you leave?”

You looked at him. “You ask a lot of questions, Mando. And I’d answer if I knew you’d answer my questions.” Why were you even trusting him? You knew nothing about him, but there was just something in the way he carried himself that made you believe he would never harm you and would never let anyone else harm you, either.

“I don’t mean to offend you, kebiin’ika,” he said, hardly phased by your hostility. “My religion, kebiin’ika, it’s binding. I don’t want to break the resol'nare.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Resol’nare?” 

“The tenets of Mandalorian life.”

You nodded, trying to understand. “That’s why you can’t tell me your name?” 

“Kind of,” he nodded. “We have to be strict with the Resol’nare. A big part of it is our armor and protecting our tribe. We keep the armor on, we protect our tribe. We keep our secrets, we protect our tribe.” 

You remembered hearing about the Purge of Mandalorians. That’s probably why they lived all the way out on Yavin IV, and why he was having to get so many supplies before he goes back. “I’m sorry,” you say. “For getting hostile. It’s just...hard. You want me to open up to you but you won’t do the same,” you say. “I’m not saying you have to open up to me. I just want to explain myself.” 

“No, I understand,” he said. Then his visor turned back forward, staring into the blue blankness of hyperspace. “Would…” he began. “Would it help if I told you my name?” He was still staring straight ahead, hands gripping the arm rests of his chair. 

You looked at him, shocked that he’d offer this. “I wasn’t trying to guilt you into telling me about yourself, Mando,” you tell him. 

“I want to tell you my name, kebiin’ika. I’m asking you to trust me and you don’t even know my name,” he said, finally looking over at you. “That’s a bit unreasonable I think.”

You took a deep breath. He was right. It was unreasonable. “Alright then, Mando,” you say. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll happily learn your name.”

“Paz Vizsla,” he said. “Clan Vizsla.” After the fact he realized that his clan wouldn’t mean anything to you, but it felt weird to introduce himself without saying it.

“Paz Vizsla,” you repeat. “I’ve heard the name Vizsla before, I think.”

He nodded. “Vizslas were important on Mandalore. But that was a long time ago.”

“I like your name,” you say. “Paz Vizsla.” Paz smiled under his helmet. He liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth. He hadn’t heard his name spoken without a vocoder since he donned his helmet all those years ago. 

“I like when you say my name,” he says before he can stop himself. Maker, you must think he’s strange. But you smiled a toothy smile at him, and said his name again. “You know, I haven’t heard my name in awhile,” he says. 

This made you sad. He hadn’t heard his own name in Maker knows how long. “You don’t speak your names at home? On Yavin?” 

“Sometimes. But often the kids just call me ba’vodu and the adults call me vod.” He noticed the confused look on your face. He wasn’t used to speaking this much with people who didn’t know Mando’a. “Vod means sibling or close friend. Ba’vodu means uncle.”

You smiled. “That’s sweet, Paz,” you say. “I like Mando’a. It’s pretty when you speak it.” 

His heart swelled with pride for his people. This was what the Resol’nare instilled in him, a pride for his people and his language. And the fact that you loved it was amazing to him. “We’ll have a long ride to Hosnian Prime, maybe I can teach you some?”

“I’d love that, Paz,” you say. You could tell he loved talking about his people, you wished he was able to tell you more. He seemed so happy. 

-

You now sat in your room. His room? Your room? You weren’t sure. But you were sitting on the bed nonetheless, reading on your holopad. You had a few more hours of your journey, and you felt like you were in Paz’s way if you weren’t in this room. 

Your thoughts had long drifted from the article you were reading. They’d drifted to Paz. You thought of how happy he was that someone was interested not only in Mando’a but interested in him. How willing he was to share his name if it made you more comfortable. There was something in the pit of your stomach that started to swell. Those feelings you’d felt when his hand guided you to the ship. No, you scolded yourself. Not him. You can’t start crushing on him. But he was just so kind. So gentle despite being so utterly terrifying with his height and his armor. 

-

Paz sat in the cockpit, staring into hyperspace. Mandalorians were a patient people, they had to be. Especially now, living in the shadows. Waiting their turn to be the one who emerges from their hideouts. But, truthfully, Paz wasn’t utilizing his Mandalorian patience, the meditation that all the young children are taught. His mind was racing with thoughts of the girl who lay on his bed right now. Thoughts of how kriffing interested she was in the little bits of Mandalorian culture he’d introduced her to. 

Paz had never really thought what his ideal riduur was like. He knew he wanted her to be smart and to be able hold her own, but that was as far as he had gotten. But now, now he saw the shape of his ideal riduur begin to form in his mind: the shape of you. When he was younger, he’d imagined marrying a Mandalorian, but with so much of the Tribe gone now...he just didn’t see that happening. He still couldn’t believe he was this entranced by you, a shopkeeper turned mechanic from a village on Dantooine, of all places. He didn’t like the feeling of not having control over these emotions, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t like how he didn’t know if you felt the same way, and if you did he had no idea how to go about courting you. You’re getting ahead of yourself, Vizsla, he thought. She just learned your name a few hours ago. 

-

“Kebiin’ika?” He called gently from the other side of the door. He knocked as gently as he could and repeated, “Kebiin’ika?” A sleepy hmm? came from the other side of the door. “We’re almost there. Just dropped out of hyperspace.” 

The door wooshed open, and you were standing right in front of him. Close in front of him. You rubbed sleep from your eyes and stretched in the doorway. “Already?”

He wished you could see his smile under his visor. He usually cherished the blankness of the helmet, but in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to smile at you. “Yeah,” he said. “Surprised the drop didn’t wake you.” He was staring down at you, something that normally intimidated people, but you just stood there, looking up. 

“I’m a deep sleeper,” you say. “Do you have any food? My breakfast has worn off.”

He nodded. “There’s a little kitchenette through here.” He led you through another a little farther up on the ship. It certainly was small, a tiny conservator under one of the cabinets that you doubt housed much, a stove, and a microwave. “There should be some stuff in here. It might not be the best, but it’s something.”

“Do you want me to make you something, too?” You ask. 

He shaked his head. “I’m alright, kebiin’ika.” He made a mental note to ask you what foods you wanted so he could pick up groceries on Yavin IV, but for now he needed to land the ship and you needed to eat. 

When the ship landed, you were both in the cockpit. You were munching on a ration bar, as most the things in the kitchen were expired and the things that weren’t wouldn’t make a meal. You’d told Paz just to get whatever for the kitchen, that you’d eat just about anything. 

“Ok, kebiin’ika,” he said as the ship’s main systems shut down after the landing. “I’ve got to get these things back to the covert, and you’ll have to stay here.” He saw the flicker of disappointment on your face. Maker, how he wanted to take you to the covert and introduce you to everyone, but that couldn’t happen. While he trusted you, he knew not everyone would, and it would be frowned upon to bring an outsider to their secure location. 

“Ok,” you replied. “Do I have to stay on the ship?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d prefer it. It’d be safer, and the town is a good hour’s walk from here,” he told you. 

You nodded. “Ok, I’ll stay here.”

About that time, you heard the woosh of what you thought to be jetpacks. You followed Paz to the ramp, stopping in the doorway as he continued down. There was one Mandalorian down there, on a speeder bike, towing another behind him. His armor was unpainted, just pure, bright beskar. He greeted Paz with a hug and followed him to the cargo hatch. The visor of the new Mando’s helmet met your eyes with what you thought was probably suspicion, but he continued on. 

They’d expertly tied all the goods onto the speeders, and the new Mando sped off, and Paz turned around and gave you a wave before following his friend.

-

“Who’s the girl, Paz?” Din asked as they stopped in the bay of the covert’s new home. 

“A new friend,” Paz said. Din wasn’t satisfied. “My ship stopped working back on Dantooine, and I didn’t have any credits. She said she’d fix it if I took her to Hosnian Prime.”

Din was shocked, but with his helmet on Paz couldn’t tell. “Maker, Paz, we need you here. Not on kriffing Hosnian Prime.”

“I know. But we needed these supplies, too, and if it weren’t for her I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Paz said. Eager to change the subject, he said, “How’s your foundling?”

“Grogu?” Din asked. “He’s good. Eats all the vermin. He’s like a Loth-cat, Paz,” Din laughed and Paz joined him. The little green toddler had made a big impact on the covert, specifically with how adorable he was. Grogu was Clan Djarin, but he was everyone’s family. 

Paz was greeted in the hallways of the covert almost immediately, his vod emerging from the rooms they were working to make their homes, and the young children coming from the school room. Shouts of  “Ba’vodu!” filled the halls. Paz was beaming under his helmet as he knelt down to hug all the children. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, everyone,” he said. “I’ve got some business to attend to.” The children groaned, wanting fun Uncle Paz rather than the stern man in front of them. But they got the hint, and backed off back to the schoolroom. Paz went to the workshop first, where he knew he’d find Bezza. And he did. 

“Bezza?” He asked, walking into the almost empty room. She sat at a workbench, hunched over something. “I’ve got something for you.”

The young girl looked up. She had a helmet on. She hadn’t had that when Paz left. “Paz? You’re back?” She jumped up from her seat and rushed into a hug. Their beskar sang when they collided. “I walk the way of the Mandalore now,” she said when she backed away. 

“I can see that,” Paz laughed. “The armor of your clan?” He asked. She nodded. Paz couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was solemn at the memory of her fallen buire. He pulled the journal out of his pack, “I got you this on Dantooine.”

Paz wished she had waited to don her helmet, just so he could see the way her face lit up when she saw the leather journal. “Ba’vodu,” she was breathless. “It’s gorgeous. On Dantooine? Why’d Dantooine have this?”

“It’s a long story, Bezza,” he replied. “One with crazy old ladies and me making friends with pretty mechanics.” 

Bezza’s head tilted. “Uncle Paz finally smitten? Wait until Armorer hears. The whole covert will be on the edge of their seats.”

Paz immediately regretted the ‘pretty’ remark. “Bezza, you wouldn’t dare,” he said. Gossip traveled fast, especially amongst the older members of the covert who ached for their best warriors to bring more younglings into the tribe. 

“No,” Bezza said. “Especially since she's on Dantooine and not here.”

Paz spoke without thinking. “Well, she is here.”

“Here? At the covert?” Bezza looked behind Paz frantically searching for the pretty mechanic. 

He shook his head. “No, Bezza, not here,” he laughed. “Armorer would kill me if I brought her here. But she’s on my ship.”

“Uncle Paz...I know you didn’t leave a girl you have a crush on alone on your ship,” Bezza said. 

“First, I don’t have a crush on her. Second, should I not have?”

“Kriff, men really can be clueless,” Bezza sighed. “No, Paz, you shouldn’t have. Not if you’re thinking about courting her.” Bezza's voice drifted into a singsong for the last bit. 

Paz tilted his head down in a stern manner that Bezza recognized from her days as his student. “I'm not thinking about courting her,” he said. “Besides, I’m an old man compared to her.”

“Maker, ba’vodu, you’re not old. And, that doesn’t matter,” Bezza said. “But what does matter is that you left her on the ship alone in the middle of the forest. Poor thing.” 

Paz rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. It couldn’t have been that bad.

-

It’d been three hours since Paz and his friend rode off into the dense forest. You were bored. There was no service for your holopad to pick up on, and you’d walked the layout of the ship a million times. You were mad at yourself for napping when you did, because if you hadn’t you’d still be on Dantooine time and would be fast asleep. But you had napped, and now you’d be on Yavin IV time, and it was midday here. 

You were back on the bed, unpacking your backpack. Your credits jangled at the bottom. I could go get some clothes in town, you thought. Maybe some nicer shoes. You definitely had the credits for it, and you didn’t want to meet with Leia in your old, tattered clothes. 

You figured out how to engage ground protocols from outside the ship, and then slung your backpack onto a shoulder and set off walking. You realized you should’ve tried to leave a hint to Paz that you’d gone into town, but it was too late for that now. Surely he could figure it out. 

The town came into view. It wasn’t a big place, and it was fairly new. It hadn’t been here when the Rebellion had. A few chain stores and restaurants were littered between mom and pop places. You entered the chain fashion store, knowing their prices would be the most reasonable for the budget you’d set. 

All kinds of clothing were scattered over the store. A section of jackets and headwear for Togrutas and Twi’leks, shirts with varying numbers of sleeves, and pants for varying numbers of legs. You got yourself to the two-arm and two-leg section fairly easily, picking up solid colored tees and a sweatshirt of dark green. Just the staples. These were softer than the t-shirt you had on now, and thinner than the coveralls in your bag. Good for Yavin’s climate, and easily layerable for whatever Hosnian Prime had in store. You picked up some jeans and sweatpants as well, might as well build up a wardrobe here. You knew the prices on a popular planet like Hosnian Prime would be outrageous. 

“Can I take those up to the counter for you?” A teenage girl asked. She had blindingly neon pink lekku that caught you by surprise when you turned around. 

“Sure,” you said, handing her your goods. “Thank you.” She turned to walk away, and you continued looking around. There were gorgeous dresses towards the back, most likely for the local teenagers to buy when school dances came around. You ran your hands over all the different fabrics, your eyes taking in all the colors. They looked utterly expensive. You caught a glance at the price tag and yanked your hand back. You couldn’t risk harming one of these gowns, or you’d have to tell Paz you ran out of credits and needed to go back to Dantooine instead. 

You paid for the items, the Twi’lek girl giving you some kind of discount since you were a first time customer, and then walked out with the bag of clothes at your side. You wandered around for a bit, eventually finding yourself in some tech store being held up by a protocol droid. You’d made the mistake of telling it you were visiting from Dantooine, and now you were getting an extensive history of Dantooinian/Yavinian relations. Anything beat being bored on that ship, though.

-

Paz sat alone in his quarters, sipping on a broth. His helmet stared at him from the other side of the table. The chrono on the wall indicated he’d been gone from the ship for almost five hours. Then he thought back to what Bezza had said. He felt guilt, similar to the guilt he had felt when he realized he should’ve offered to walk you home after your first day of working on his ship. But this was more intense. He cursed at himself for not realizing how rude that was. He needed to get better at that, he decided. I’ll go meet with Armorer, he thought. She can advise me.

Paz’s heavy knocks landed on the door of the armory. Seconds later, the door opened, and Armorer allowed him in. They sat at her meeting table together. “Tell me about your mechanic.”

Paz groaned like a frustrated child. “Bezza tell you?”

Armorer shook her head. “Bezza told one of her friends, who told their father, who told a member of the council, who told me.” Of course. Everyone here was a gossip. They had to be, after all, because where else would their entertainment come from? “Tell me about her, Paz. Bezza said you seemed quite smitten.”

“I am not smitten,” Paz said, and then proceeded to tell the Armorer how you became a passenger on his ship. 

“You left her alone on the ship? For all this time?” Armorer asked. 

Paz sighed. “Why does everyone keep saying that? She’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself.”

“I’m sure she can,” Armorer replied. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t rude. Especially if you want to court her.”

“I never said I wanted to court her.”

“You didn’t have to,” Armorer replied. “I have counseled members of this tribe for many years. I can just tell.” 

Paz leaned back in defeat. “Well it’s not like I could bring her here.”

“You don’t trust her?”

Paz sat up, quickly, defensive. “Of course I trust her. But I didn’t think you would be too happy.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Armorer replied, voice unwavering. 

Paz’s face contorted in confusion under his helmet. “Then why is me leaving her on the ship alone such a big deal? What was I supposed to do?”

“It’s a big deal because we want more children running around, Paz,” Armorer said, humor ringing through her voice. “But seriously, Paz, you’ve been gone for how long? Five hours? That’s a long time on a foreign ship alone. You won’t be leaving until tomorrow, you can come back then for supplies and fuel. For now, go be with your mechanic.”

Paz obeyed, standing from his spot at the Armorer’s table. “Thank you, Armorer.”

“We care for each other,” she said. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” 

-

Paz had said his goodbyes for the evening and walked with Din back to where they left their speeders. Grogu, clinging to Paz’s chest plate, was saying something that neither of them could understand. 

“Is that so, kid?” Din cooed at the foundling. Grogu laughed. “So, Paz,” Din’s voice had returned to its normal pitch. “You gonna court this girl?”

Paz sighed. “Why does everyone think I’m going to court her?”

“You don’t usually act this way towards anyone, especially not an outsider,” Din replied. “And we all know you’ve been looking for a riduur.”

Paz’s eyes rolled under his helmet. “I don’t know, Din,” he said. “Maybe. She’s nice, a hard worker, but she probably sees me as an old man. She’s probably still in her twenties.”

“Maker, Paz, you’re not old,” Din told him. “Just think about it. You seem quite...taken with her.” 

Paz nodded as they neared the speeders, handing Grogu back to Din. “Trust me, Din, she seems to be the only thing I can think about.” Din gave a smug laugh and sent his vod on his way. 

Paz wasn’t a reckless driver per se, but he certainly was fast. He neared the ship in half the time it took him and Din earlier. Secured safely on the back of his bike was a thermos of broth for you. Dusk was on its way to Yavin IV, it was dinner time. 

When Paz got to his ship, he was confused. Everything was shut down, and locked up from the outside. Once he was able to get in, he called for you. No answer. Surely you didn’t just up and leave him, right? 

“Kebiin’ika, this isn’t funny,” he said as he opened the door to your room. But there was nothing there. Not even your backpack or your holopad. He feared the worst, that you’d been taken, but he knew it was irrational. Still, he rushed back to his speeder bike. 

The townspeople of this particular town of Yavin IV had never seen a Mandalorian arrive in a fury like Paz did. Or, at least what they thought was fury. The dirt of the ground kicked up beside him as he stopped and dismounted. He scanned the town, people were going into shops or homes, fearing this was an attack of some sort. Everyone, all over the galaxy, had heard stories of Mandalorian warriors. 

Paz sometimes forgot how terrifying he looked, and in this moment he wished he didn’t. He went into the first store. No luck. The diner. No luck. He began thinking you’d been taken. He stood in the middle of the town and bellowed your name. 

“Paz?” A voice behind him said. Your voice. 

He whipped around to see you, shopping bags in one hand, ice cream in the other. “Maker, kebiin’ika,” he said, walking up to you, looking you up and down to make sure you were ok. “Thought you were gone. I thought you were hurt.”

You winced at his words, wishing you had turned back to leave a note. “I’m sorry, Paz-”

“Don’t call me that in public,” he said, his voice taking a bit of a mean tone. But then he said, softer, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be rude. You didn’t know. It’s part of my religion. Don’t use my name in public.”

You nodded, and then moved on. “I’m sorry, Mando, I just got so bored and figured I could use new clothes and here I am. Ice cream?” You offered the unlicked side of the cone. 

He pointed at the helmet. “I think I’ll have to decline.”

You nodded. “Can we go back to the ship now? I don’t like all these people looking at me.” Paz hadn’t noticed, but you were right. Everyone in town was looking at the two weirdos in the middle of the town. 

“C’mon,” he said, placing a guiding hand on your back. “Got a speeder bike over there.”

You got on the speeder behind him after he’d secured your shopping bags to the front. One arm wrapped firmly around his waist, the other holding the half-eaten ice cream. “Go slow, Mando, I paid good money for this,” you told him, and he did. You cruised back down the path towards the clearing in the woods that held the ship. “How was your family?” you asked. 

“Good,” he said. “I gave a girl in the covert that journal, that candy to the kids, I love to see their reactions. Makes me happy to make them happy.”

Your heart warmed, you could tell that he enjoyed making others happy. That’s what he seemed to live for. “I didn’t know people even used journals anymore, especially not younger people.”

“She’s sixteen,” Paz told you. “She lost her parents recently, and she’d been talking about a journal since she knew what they were. It felt right to buy that for her.”

You laid your head against his back, and brought both hands around his waist, as you’d finished your ice cream.  “That’s sweet,” you said. “I’m sure she’s strong, after going through all that.”

“She is,” Paz agreed. “I told her about you.”

“Good things I hope?”

He laughed. “Of course. But everyone told me I shouldn’t have left you on the ship alone. That you’d get bored.”

“What do you mean ‘everyone’? Who all did you tell about me?”

Paz wasn’t sure if he made a mistake. “W-well, you know, just my close friend and Bezza, and of course I told Armorer. That’s all though.”

“Who’s Armorer? I mean, besides the armorer.”

Paz stopped the speeder as you got to the ship. “She’s our leader, our counselor, and our armorer. She’s the backbone of the Tribe.”

You hopped off the back of the bike, hands leaving Paz’s chest. “She seems important,” you said and Paz hummed in agreement. He was untying your bags, and the soup from the back. “Why’d you tell her about me?”

“Needed to know if my friends were right about leaving you alone on the ship,” he laughed. “Seems like they were.”

“You weren’t wrong to leave me, Paz. I understand that Mandalorians are very secretive,” you say. You hated to think he felt bad about a protocol that kept his Tribe safe. “Don’t feel bad.” You took the shopping bags from him and then followed him up into the ship. 

“Still, I’m sorry,” he said. “Wasn’t very...gentleman-like.” 

You let out a loud laugh, and he turned around to face you. “Sorry,” you said between laughs. “You just don’t strike me as someone who cares about being a gentleman. Not that you aren’t one, of course,” you cringed at yourself. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t like him or found him rude. Kriff, he was a caring Mandalorian, and those were rare. 

“I usually don’t,” he said, motioning for you to sit at the table in the common area of the ship. “But I’d like to be a gentleman for you.” Maker, Paz, could you not be more subtle? he thought. Not wanting to give you any time to respond, he continued, “This is some kind of broth they had for dinner tonight. Brought you some back.” He poured the soup into the lid of the thermos and handed you a spoon. 

You took the spoon slowly, looking directly into the black of his visor. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t looking back. He was looking above you or over your shoulder or something. “What do you mean you’d like to be a gentleman for me?”

Paz sucked in a strained breath. Suddenly, the beskar that had always made him feel free and safe felt like a prison that suffocated him. “I just care about you,” he said. “You know, like, you’re trusting me and so I care about you. I should protect you.”

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “And I think you know that. That’s not what this is about, is it?”

His head shifted slightly. Now you knew he was looking at you. Then it was your turn to avoid his gaze, looking down into the soup and taking a bite. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”

“Then what is it, Paz?”

Now or never, he thought. “When I was back home, everyone was asking me if I was going to court you,” he started. “I thought about it. A lot. All day.”

“And?”

“And I think I’d like to, if you’d let me,” he said quietly. You had a Mandalorian wrapped around your finger. 

You looked up from your soup at him. “What even is Mandalorian courting? Is it like normal dating?” He noticed the lack of answer, silently cursing himself for bringing this up too early. 

“Well, kind of. Lots of symbolism,” he said. He pulled a vibroblade from his belt. “Like, I would give you this, as a gift, an offering, if you said yes to a courtship. To mark me giving a piece of myself to you.”

You looked at the blade in his hand. “I don’t have a weapon to give you.”

“That’s ok,” he said. “You don’t have to give me anything. It’s my tradition, not yours.”

You smiled, he was so willing to accommodate you. But you knew this was a traditional man, deep down. “But you’re giving me a piece of you, I should give you a piece of me.”

“You don’t have to kebiin’ika,” he insisted. He sat the vibroblade down on the table, and he watched with wide eyes as you picked it up. 

“You’ll have to teach me to use this, Paz,” you said. “But yes, I will court you.” You swore you could feel the relief that washed over his body as you spoke. “But I do want to give you something.” He tilted his head, questioning. “I don’t have anything like this to give you, but I can still make myself a little more vulnerable, like you have.”

Paz smiled under his helmet, glad that you picked up on the message of the blade. He was giving one of his weapons to you, one of his ways to defend himself, and that was deeper than the surface level for a Mandalorian. “How?”

“Ask me all those questions you’ve been dying to ask,” you said. “I’ll answer them. Besides, you should know what you’re getting into with me.”

He nodded. “Where are you from?”

“Alderaan,” you reply. You wanted him to move on to the next question quickly, so you didn’t have time to think about it. 

But he didn’t move on quickly. “I’m so sorry, kebiin’ika,” he said, a gloved hand reaching out at one of yours that lay on the table. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not like you blew it up,” you said dryly. An attempt at humor that usually only worked with other Alderaanian survivors. “Any other questions?”

“What’s on Hosnian Prime? Who’s the friend?”

You smiled at the thought of Leia. “Princess Organa is my friend on Hosnian, or I guess she’s Senator Organa now. When the Rebellion became the New Republic, she told me if I ever needed work I could come see her and she’d find me something.”

“You were a part of the Rebellion?” There was some surprise in his voice, but he’d had an inkling that you’d been involved. Something hardened you, something gave you your skills. 

You nodded. “I was here on Yavin when Alderaan was blown up. Fixing up an X-wing when a pilot ran in and told me.” 

“Maker,” he said. “I can’t imagine.” He’d known what it was like to lose a lot of people, but never your entire homeworld. Yes, he’d lost Mandalore in some ways, but at least it was still there. 

“I thought about abandoning the Rebellion after that. I thought we couldn’t win,” you said. “But when Leia came back with the plans for the Death Star and Luke blew the damned thing up, I couldn’t leave. I was doing the bare minimum, I was just fixing ships.” 

“But without you to fix the ships, the Rebellion would’ve been done for,” he said. “Armorer always says that the Tribe is a machine, and we’re all the parts. If one of us is gone, we wouldn’t function,” he says. “I’d bet that’s how the Rebellion was.”

“I guess so,” you replied. “But, kriff, some of those droids I had to fix were annoying.”

He chuckled. “We don't have droids in the covert.”

“Then count your blessings, Paz,” you said, remembering a protocol droid that talked your ear off while you fixed an astromech. “But, if we’re courting, are you coming with me to Hosnian Prime? Your part of the machine would be gone.”

He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I don’t know. Are you still wanting to go to Hosnian Prime?”

“I kind of have to, right? If I can’t live with you in the covert,” you said. And that was part of the reason, but the other part was that you deeply missed Leia. As daughters of Alderaan and daughters of the Rebellion you’d formed a strong bond. One that you had cut yourself off from when memories of the war became too much. 

He nodded, thinking. “You don’t have to, but I think you want to. If not to stay, but to at least see your friend.” Was this man a mind reader? 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed. “I want to see Leia. I’ll comm her in the morning, tell her we’re coming.” 

“You haven’t told her? You just planned on showing up on a Princess’s doorstep?”

You nodded and shrugged. “Haven’t spoken to her in a long time. Thought it might be best to just show up.”

“You’re very smart, kebiin’ika, but that’s not the brightest decision you’ve ever made.”

You two sat at the table talking for a few more hours. The conversation came with ease as he told you stories of his bounty hunting and of Clan Vizsla’s greatest warriors. But when you yawned, he said, “You’re getting tired. You should go sleep.”

“What about you?” He pointed to the tiny bunk. “No,” you said. “You’d hardly fit in that thing! You’re too long for it!” 

He laughed. “I told you earlier, I’d manage.”

“I don't know if this goes against any of your courting rules,” you started. “But you could always sleep in the proper bed with me.”

He thought about it for a moment, he really did, but he shook his head. “Gotta keep the helmet on, kebiin’ika. This is the Way.”

“It gets pitch black in there and I have a sleep mask. I wouldn’t see your face even if I tried,” you said. “And I wouldn’t try.”

Finally, after a lot more convincing, he gave in. You took a shower in the tiny ‘fresher, and came out in pajamas you had bought earlier that day, matching eye mask in hand. “Your turn,” you said, gesturing him into the ‘fresher. 

When he emerged, you weren’t ready. The woosh of the door startled you and you clamped your eyes shut, slapping your hands over them. A low chuckle rang through the room. “I’ve got the helmet on, kebiin’ika. Open your eyes until I tell you to shut them.”

You obeyed, and you took him in. He was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and even without the armor, he was one huge man. His helmet still sat on his head, looking out of place with his loungewear. He made his way to the other side of the bed, and situated himself next to you. 

“Alright, kebiin’ika,” he said. “Time for lights out.” You nodded, shutting off the lamps and then placed the mask over your eyes. 

“Ok, I can’t see,” you said. And then you heard the helmet hit the floor on the other side of the bed. 

It was a bit awkward at first. Both of you, just laying on your backs in what was relatively a small bed. But eventually, his hand found yours under the covers. “I wish I could show you the covert,” he said. “Introduce you to my family.”

“Is there any chance you could?” you asked. “I mean, before we leave for the Hosnian system?”

He pondered for a moment, not wanting to make an empty promise. He thought of what Armorer and the council might say. “Maybe,” he replies. “Maybe not before Hosnian. Someday, though.”

“Someday.” you repeated, and then you drifted off, hand in hand with your gentle warrior.

#paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #the mandalorian

[lcnelyinthesky]

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises. 

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

-

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

-

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least. 

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light. 

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe. 

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

-

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge. 

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling. 

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height. 

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet. 

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain. 

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

-

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief. 

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him. 

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

-

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were. 

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know. 

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration. 

#tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima rivals to lovers #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima getting together #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #hq #hq fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #karasuno #karasuno x reader #haikyuu x reader

[rangerslayer-97]

Things That Will Never Be Said

I got hit with more inspiration and curse my brain that I can’t write anything that isn’t angst. For the time being.

Time is set where my Knight Guardian main Violcrik is the Outlander and Commander of the Alliance. Set post-Echoes of Oblivion, during the Knight only Alliance Alert "The Padawan Returns". Mentions of previous game choices during Shadow of Revan, Knights of the Fallen Empire, Eternal Throne and Onslaught.

~~~~~

WARNINGS: Angst, Hurt, Unrequited love, One-sided attraction, Minor emotional manipulation (I could be wrong, but I'm covering borders)

~~~~

Summary: Lana comes to terms that she does have buried feelings for Commander Violcrik, but learns someone else won the. Commander’s heart.

~~~~~

Dark Advisor and Alliance Second-in-Command Sith Lord Lana Beniko, the former Minister of Sith Intelligence walked the War Room as she sifts though data on her data pad from various individuals and her contacts. The Commander, former Jedi Knight and Battle Master of the Jedi Order, Violcrik Baliss was taking a much deserved break after the battle of the Meridian Shipyard Complex on Corellia. Lana worries Violcrik hasn’t given enough time to herself to relax. The Commander has always been on her feet, sometimes pulling all-nighters, drinking a lot of caff or taking a concerning amount of stims. Lana felt after Corellia, Violcrik deserves the downtime after running between Ossus, Onderon and Mek-Sha. It was one battle after another. Unbeknownst to the Republic, the Knight’s home faction, Violcrik has chosen to align with the Sith Empire. It came as a surprise to Lana, but a welcome one, even Empress Acina has been made aware of the Commander’s choice. She is pleased that the Empire now has a spy in the Republic ranks. Lana did send a subtle warning to not overstep their bounds with the Commander and that the Alliance is still an independent third-party. Empress Acina respected the warning loud and clear.

The Sith Lord understands the Commander’s reasonings. A lot of them stem from what occurred during the war against the Eternal Empire. Violcrik often confided with her about her gradually crumbling fate with the Republic. These words were normally spoken when Theron Shan, former Republic SIS Agent, was out of earshot. They knew Theron would try to remind the Jedi that the Republic is still good. Violcrik told her she felt her faction had all but abandoned her, the Jedi Order had forsaken her, though she always felt like an outcast in the Order. Lana listened when the Commander revealed the crimes she committed for the ‘good of the Republic’, two of which were definite counts of war crimes. The Sith knew Violcrik wasn’t like the other Jedi, she was emotional, passionate, will do what needs to be done. As a Dark Sider, Lana did find that as an attractive quality. These qualities often put her at odd's end with the High Jedi Council. The Commander admitted she locked horns with the Council members more than she cared to count.

It is enough to say that Lana became Violcrik's go-to for private talks, personal. The Sith advisor is good at reading people and she knows the Commander has a lot on her mind that she hasn't been able to get off her chest. Lana did suggest therapy at one point, but Violcrik laughed it off, claiming she didn't need to see a therapist; and seeing one would ruin her image and reputation. It was never brought up again. The former Jedi did open up to her about her past, it was one Lana would never wish on anyone. Alderaan is a planet for the rich, snobbery and being born out of wedlock can lead to a family name being ruined. Violcrik and her sisters were all but wiped off the family tree, none entitled to an inheritance by their father. From the way Violcrik spoke about her father, there was malice, there was anger and there was hatred. Such intense emotions almost made Lana dizzy.

During the war against the Eternal Empire, even up to now, Lana had taken time out of her schedule to teach Violcrik how to control her darkness. She won't deny there is a danger of having a rogue Dark Jedi running around the galaxy. The Sith Lord herself has witnessed several times, the Commander giving into her darkness; and many times, seeing her eyes change from deep blue to deep orange that nearly glowed. Lana won't lie there are some days she is afraid of what Violcrik is capable of if she lost control. Violcrik did prove as her short stint as Empress, that she will resort to using fear and terror. The last time she got concerned was over the Commander's reliance on Valkorion's powers when he resided inside her mind. Of course, they did get at odds with each other when Violcrik lied to her about Valkorion sharing her mind. It took some days to get one another's trust back. Yet… then she remembers the Commander went her way to save her twice and refused to leave her side during the breakout with… that's beside the point. Violcrik saved her twice and when the Alliance was set up, the Commander intended to speak to either her or Theron (long before he got banished after defeating the Order of Zildrog). Lana had a feeling Violcrik wanted to speak to her alone, but when Koth soured the mood; the Battle Master told them to forget about it and walked away.

The Dark Advisor knows things were left unsaid between them. Lana needed to know what it was. When they made love on Yavin IV after they defeated Revan, there was something between them. It wasn't just a physical attraction. While to some it may have appeared as a one-night stand or a fling, but it must not have been, otherwise Violcrik wouldn't have flirted with her during the disaster on Ziost. Though the timing was quite poor on Violcrik's end, the spark between them was there, fresh, a crackle of electricity that was about to spark into a flame. While the Commander hadn't approached to talk about her feelings, Lana respected that. She wasn't going to impose. Lana can't hold it in now after six years of waiting, she is in with love with Commander Violcrik Baliss. She tried to deny the feelings when Violcrik didn't come to her, so she held the emotions in. Now, they can't be held in any longer. Maybe the Commander was scared to come forward and admit her feelings. It is scary territory, to open yourself up and give your heart to someone. Perhaps... maybe the Commander was waiting.

Lana had tried to deny her feelings, but now… she no longer can't. Dark Advisor Lana Beniko is in love with Commander Violcrik Baliss. She's going to confess her feelings now. No more waiting. The Sith Lord turned to Teeseven, asking where the Commander is now. The astromech told her he had last seen her head to the Force Enclave, which means she's nearby. Lana thanked Teeseven, shut off her datapad and headed for the Force Enclave. She followed the Force signature she felt, small amounts of Light being drowned under the heavy blanket of Darkness.

Her heart was beating fast, Lana ran through several different ways to confess her feelings and not sound like an idiot. There was an unusual skip in the Sith Lord's step, both Republic and Imperial troops dare didn't question what made the stoic advisor so happy. Lana made it to the entrance of the Enclave. Sana-Rae was off somewhere. The advisor was about to call out to the Commander, only to see… it was Knight Carsen. She and the former Emperor's Wrath, Lord Scourge joined the Alliance after finally be ridding Valkorion and his previous incarnations, Vitiate and Tenebrae. It appears the Commander and Carsen are talking, Lana couldn't hear what, but judging by her body language; something was said to make the Commander's former Padawan disgustingly giggly like a young Jedi Initiate.

Then the two stepped into each other's personal space. Lana's heart dropped like a heavy weight. She watched as the two embraced each and… they kissed. The Commander and Carsen… kissed. So is this why Violcrik never let her feelings be known to her? Had they always belonged… to her? Then what were they? Friends? Friends with benefits? A fling? Is the Commander stupid!? Getting with Carsen, who is undoubtedly loyal to the Republic? Who is quite clearly oblivious to the Commander's true loyalty!? The Commander who is happily turning against her own faction! Who severely weakened the Republic fleet en route to Corellia and destroyed their newly built shipyard that could have tipped the war in an ongoing resource crisis!?

Fair enough, let Carsen be the one broken when the Commander's betrayal come to light. Violcrik will end up running back to her. No, she has to stop these thoughts. Lana is angry, that the Commander made her feel she was nothing more than a fling. At the same time, after the Commander went through her dark period in life after being awoken from carbonite, she can't do anything but respect the choice. Lana won't resort to pettiness, she will respect Violcrik and her choices, who she gives her heart to. It appears now, she must step back. After six years, the Commander deserves this. This… this happiness.

No, not deserve. Deserve is a crutch for the weak. Lana will take happiness where she can find it. She will not blame the Commander for finding hers.

The Dark Advisor silently slips away from the entrance of the Force Enclave, her head bowed down and a single tear slipping down her cheek.

#star wars #swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor oc #jedi knight #swtor outlander #swtor commander #violcrik #lana beniko #kira carsen #sorry for the angst #if you're a lana simp you are warned #violcrik played lana's feelings #my knight is a player #no i did not break up with lana

[voidcat]

– a case of bad luck

2. a deal (with the devil)

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.1k

a/n: society if i could w r i t e,,, anwyays i feel im making mafia dazai ooc? i hope not, ive just began the light novels dsfdg uh yea i'll probs update once a week (depends on how often i can write)

Insisting he leaves you off at the station, you let out a breath of relief for the first time in hours. Unsure he may still be following, you change directions few times, walk fast and use shortcuts only locals of the neighbourhoods know to get him off your track. Just in case.

The next day he doesn’t show up, neither does he the day after. Not knowing how to feel or what to think about this, because there is no way he will let you slide off this easily, you do your best to resist the relief.

And soon later, it blurs back in your head, like smoke dissolving, like a bad dream.

But the unease never leaves. Neither does the feeling of being watched.

Then one lunch break, your eyes get fixed on a spot by the sidewalk and you can swear it’s the same clothes, the bandages, the posture and the look and everything crashes down back on you again. You do your best to linger and change directions as many times as you can on the way home that evening. Nothing goes wrong that night, or the day after or the day after that. If the false of sense peace were to go for few more days, you think you’ll forget all that happened again, too focused on school or whatever your friends recently bringing up.

A bell to mark the school hours ending, walking outside, caught up in whatever you’re discussing and he just stands there, like it’s nothing, like he belongs to his peer group, missing some of the bandages you saw on his face before, clothes not sticking out like you thought they would.

He stands there and smiles your way.

You think, you’ve never wanted to punch someone in your life as you do in this very moment. Just to erase that smile off his face.

In your view, he only gets bigger with each step, the flock of students you’re stuck in only walking towards where he waits and you look around for a way to sneak out but nada! Nothing! And your friends have grown suspiciously quieter than the usual. Stealing glances from one another and from you, the snicker like they’re sharing this little surprise for you.

Shorter than calculated, you find yourself standing right in front of him.

No words on his end and the expecting looks on you make the air tense.

“Hi… Dazai!” You say at one point, fake enthusiasm clear, not that they seem to mind nor realize. “What brings you here?”

“I was just in the city as you see. And decided, what better time to surprise an old friend than now?” The smile vanishes for a moment, the forced school play act making you want to roll your eyes but he puts a hand on your shoulder suddenly, you wince and shake his hand off, and he continues. “So, have you got the time to show me around and catch up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Followed by a dry laugh, you look back to your friends who only seem satisfied, makes you wonder what kind of lie he sold before he got here. His smile grows wider in reply.

You sigh and start to walk by his side, taking a step a second later than him to keep a distance and to see where you’re headed.

“What did you tell them exactly?” your curiosity takes the best of you as you reach a traffic light.

A little ‘huh?’ coming from him, he turns back to glance at you, the sun behind his head makes his height apparent. The short lived look of asking he gives you dies as he tilts his head “I only told them a cliché story, assumed they’d fall for cheesy scenarios such as that.”

Red turns green.

You take a step by his side, no more following behind. “Which is?..”

“That we were old friends with a shared history of potential intimacy and I wanted to take you out now that we are back together again!” He says it like it’s so usual.

The two of you reach the pavement and continue to walk, never faltering.

Letting your eyes linger on him for a while, you turn your gaze back on the streets as the sense of familiarity begins to vanish. “I didn’t take you for the romcom type.” You say at last as you stop.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t spare a glance this time. “I just know someone who likes them.”

The number of people around decrease with each step, the air gets colder –maybe it’s your nerves. The light starts to fade and not a word has been spoken for quite some time. Not that either of you were dying for some get-to-one-another.

When he speaks again, you don’t hear it at first. “Your ability-”

You halt with a stomp of your foot. “I don’t have one.”

He narrows his eyes in annoyance, “Your ability must be based on some form of speech, as Akutagawa served a good example that night.”

The name barely rings a bell in your memory.

“Question is, what kind of speech it requires? Does it rhyme, should commands work, shall it be sang, like a siren?”

“These are all excellent questions, except for one big missing piece…” you answer. The mention of something missing seems to get his attention. “…That I do not have an ability.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he huffs, the ever growing annoyance levels can tell alone you’re pushing the little bit of luck you have.

“Then how did Akutagawa pass out exactly?” hands back under his coat.

“There was blood on him? Maybe he’s sick? He definitely looked the part.” You say as more of a suggestion than an answer.

“The men inside the building. The one with his internal organs out.” Words get colder with each breathe.

Yours fade as his grow colder, “Maybe the other captured guy did it?”

“You don’t sound sure, weren’t you right next to him?” suspicion of a knowing parent hinted in his voice almost, he already must’ve figured it all out that night.

“I…” the pavement looks gray, stones crooked, countless fights must’ve gone through here before.

“I don’t know.” From the edge that connects the floor to the walls, you try inspecting each dull color behind the lifeless filter, not acknowledging him standing there doesn’t feel any safer but it’s preferable to those eyes.

His lips don’t move but the ‘You don’t know?’ is heavy in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember!” someone’s yelling reaches your ears. “I just!-“

The yelling was yours, your arms fall back, go back up and you hold yourself, “I was… singing? To calm down… And the rest is just a blur.”

When you look up, he looks as disinterested. You consider yelling, asking for an explanation, what he’s thinking; it’s not that hard to piece it all, you think, but this demeanor rubs you the wrong way. The longer the silence goes, the eerier it becomes, the emptiness of the alley you’re standing in stands out. The lack of people, noise, light, it’d almost crash down on you if it wasn’t soin the open ever since he showed up.

“The words you spoke to Akutagawa. Are they from a song?”

“The ‘go to sleep’ you mean?” you finger quote the lyric, “it’s from Beach Life In-“ you stop with a shake of your head, “it’s from a song, yes.”

When you look again, it feels like an adult waiting for a child to connect the dots in front of them, like you’re the only one in the world who hasn’t figured it out already.

“But it makes no sense.” Hands on hips, eyes focused on a pebble near your foot, “I mean- it’s not like I haven’t sung before?” You turn then, start to pace, a hand on your forehead to push back the few strands brushing against your forehead.

It starts to warm up, or feels like it, each strand of hair just there, existing, leaving its weight on you, tickling, annoying, bothering; suffocating-

He cannot be right, can he?

Sure, self-awareness can change for each person but something so important as an ability shouldn’t be missed that easily… being a stranger to yourself when a stranger figured it out in mere seconds- it’s ridiculous, it simply doesn’t make sense, he must be wrong or confuse you with someone else, how can it be that bad, how can my perception be that bad, what else did I miss if all this is true and happening-

“Despite how the Port Mafia appears,” his voice pulls you out of your head, “ability users is not such a common occurrence. And surely the ability to affect your surroundings, or make people act certain ways is one we cannot let go of.”

I should drink some water, a part of you says when you gulp at his implications, ‘we cannot let go’ just gets out of his mouth and stays right in front of you, in bold jet black letters.

“What you should ask yourself is if you felt anything during all these times of singing…” silence feels enough of an answer, hyped up or not there isn’t much to feel, much to wish for. “Or if the words you snag back then were for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “What did you feel that night?”

“Typical fight or flight response? Adrenaline, instinct to survive?”

“Stop assuming and start being more confident.” (like that night) a part of you yells, in his voice, though his is devoid of any emotion. You don’t want to learn how he sounds when he yells.

“I wanted to get out.” You try again. “Not to survive but to avoid death or whatever was awaiting me until that.” Sounds more like you, you straighten your back. “I didn’t want to stay any longer to see what they’d do to me so I found a way out.” He almost seems pleasant to hear the change in you, maybe it’s time to surprise him a little more.

“So let’s say,” you start pacing again, less like rambling and more like an animal circling, not a prey but a threat, because that’s what he is, what he has been and will be, “that I have an ability that I can use only when my emotional capacity is at a certain level… why would a mafia executive want me to have a better understanding of it?”

The radius decreasing with each step, you end your steps right in front of his face “what makes you think I won’t use it, right now, on you?” each pause between the words to make it clear this is a threat, no more of the power balance he held over you for too long. Your back to the beginning of the alley, you’re ready, in case he is one of them –if not, he might still have a gun.

He doesn’t falter, not a hair on him moves. Until he chuckles, at you and your words.

The vibration in his voice, nor the laughter reach his eyes.

“There are quite a few reasons why this won’t do, like how you cannot use it.”

The confidence in his voice makes the truth more unbearable.

“And besides, even if you managed to use it, it wouldn’t take me long to stop you.”

“Are you that fast?”

“Are you?”

This marks the end of it, as much as it pains to admit he is right, a part of you doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel the same sense of danger and survival to run away.

And regardless of all the threat he possesses, he doesn’t seem all too willing to get rid of you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn and walk away to the blinking store lights from the street. A second set of footsteps catch up to you in few long strides.

“So what is this then? You’re going to help me use my ability and leave me in debt?” reaching the traffic lights, you step onto the road without batting an eye.

“Why would I agree to something like that?” the car drives by, almost brushing your back. The sun has begun to set already, the colors mixing together.

The wind carries away his words but you catch them just in time: “You have a family and a cat, don’t you?”

You stop and look up. “Not a cloud in sight. Was it a sign of a rainy day to follow?” ignore the implications, don’t think about the faces. “A cloudy day perhaps, I always mix up the tells of the sky.”

“I’ll be around.” And he leaves with that.

#bad luck.voidcat #i hope that was the tag oops</3 #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd fanfic #dazai osamu fanfic #dazai osamu fanfiction #dazai fanfiction #dazai x reader #dazai x you #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #im too lazy to think of tags... again

[722alycat]

 Face Down

pt i pt iii pt iv

Summary: Kuchel Ackerman makes a bargain, setting into motion a series of events that would leave her sons life forever changed.

“Everything you know about Levi,” Stout had demanded. 

The pieces all came rushing together in technicolor clarity. They weren’t here for revenge. They needed to pump you for information regarding your first friend. Levi Ackerman, they said in disgust. As if he wasn’t your partner-in-crime, your confidant, the only boy you had ever felt like you could- no, no, he was Levi Ackerman the fool, who left you for dead in the underground city and took the only family you had ever known with him into the light. 

He had left you. 

You kept your lips closed. Regardless of the way that betrayal still ached and throbbed like a bruise on your soul, you knew you would never, never, tell either of these men shit about Levi. How could you, when they had spent days ruthlessly beating you and cutting you, trying to pry submission from weeping wounds and dry eyes? If they did this to you out of hope you knew anything about Levi, you could only imagine what they would do to the man himself. 

Despite your silent resolution, you couldn’t help but think about the question. What did you know about Levi Ackerman?  

Above all, Levi was a survivor. He got that from his mother. 

“Yensen! Please be reasonable!” Miss Kuchel simpered, batting her eyelashes at the pimp before her while you shook limply in his grasp, halfway to being tossed into the street. You bawled your eyes out, only six years old and beginning to learn the cruel truth of life. You were wailing and shaking your small fists in the air as she bargained on your behalf, too young to understand then what was happening in front of you.

Yensen sized Kuchel up, looking at her figure, the sway of her too-skinny hips and coy smile on her face. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, a whisper of I know something you don’t know! behind the pretty gray. She was a rare beauty that he had collected, and he found it intoxicating to be caught in her crosshairs. 

“Reasonable? Kuchel, darling, this child is now without a parent. She most certainly cannot pay the rent. I know it must be hard seeing this, being a mother yourself, but I can’t support every orphan in the city!” he cried, his wide gestures jolting you around as you cried harder.

You were an orphan now?

“Why wouldn’t mumma wake up!?” you wailed, still not understanding why she hadn’t stirred when you tried to shake her awake, not understanding why she was so cold. Kuchel flinched. She always knew your mother had tried desperately to shield you from the seedier sides of the underground, although everyone knew it to be a lost cause. You had never seen a dead body, were unaware the only home you could remember was a brothel, and life was stealing that innocence quickly, one swift hit after another. Your mother had lived Kuchel’s worst fear. What if she got sick and left Levi alone?

She hushed you, stepping much closer to Yensen to pat your head the way she’d seen your mother do, back when she would send you off to play so she could start working. She flashed a playful smile at her pimp, watching him under her long, dark lashes. “You’re a business man, and a roguish one at that!” she teased, brushing lint from his shoulder, “I’m sure you know a good investment when you see one.” 

She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she looked at you, knowing the life she was so easily condemning you to with her manipulative words, however pretty they were. But this was the underground. The only ways to make money here was with a gun in your hand, or laying on your back. Your mother had been pretty enough to rake in a fair few customers, and as Yensen leered at you, he could see the family resemblance in your childish features. 

Kuchel felt no better than a human trafficker, watching the way his face twisted into a sick grin of delight. “Beautiful, you are one of a kind,” he crowed to her, “you could smell a nugget of gold in shit, I swear to god!”

Kuchel waved away the praise, however disgusting it was, demurely telling him that she was only paying her dues to him, since he had been so kind and generous in the years she’d been here. She felt bile rise up her throat as she walked away from you, still in Yensens grasp. 

But you would survive, and if Kuchel had her way, Levi wouldn’t be alone.

“Hey, kid.”

You glanced up at the speaker, and giggled. “Aren’t you a kid too?” 

Honestly, he was only a little taller than you, and missing his front two teeth!

The dark haired boy shook his head, pointing to himself, “I just turned seven!” he proclaimed, then snidely turned his nose up, “I bet you can’t even count that high!”

You went quiet and shrugged. Mumma had been teaching you the alphabet, and you were gonna start on numbers next, but...

Mumma was gone.

You sniffled, and the boys eyes widened, “Hey! Don’t cry! Mom’s gonna kick my butt! Come on, don’t be a crybaby!”

You really began to cry at this, curled up on the ground and wailing as he berated you in a terrible attempt at stopping the waterworks. “Y-you’re so mean!”

He looked about ready to cry himself when he heard the telltale click of heels on the concrete. She was gonna kill him...

“Levi! I told you to bring her to our room! Not be cruel to her!” Miss Kuchel hollered at the boy- Levi, “She’s been through enough these past few days!”

“I- I tried, mom! But she’s such a baby she started crying before I could even get the invite out!”

You whimpered at this, having never had anyone be this rude to you in your life. Mumma always sent you to play with Isabel down the road, and she was never this mean. And she had pretty red hair.

Life was so much easier when she was alive. You never cried this much then. She used to read you stories before you fell asleep, and now... you couldn’t remember her voice.

Miss Kuchel knelt on the ground in front of you, and tilted your chin up to make you look at her. She cooed, brushing tears from your cheeks with her knuckles. “There, there. I know Levi can be a little harsh sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just how we Ackerman’s are, sweet thing. Now stop these senseless tears.”

You took one look at her kind face and sobbed harder, realizing you couldn’t picture your mothers any more. Miss Kuchel frowned at this, realizing quickly how weak you were in the wake of your mothers death. 

“Y/N,” she began, and her tone of voice had changed, no longer was it the sweet cadence she used on Yensen, on her clients. It was now harder, flint gray like her eyes, something that could conjure a spark, “I know your mother tried her best to shield you from how cruel life can be. She was a kind woman. I am not her.”

You looked up with her, shocked into silence, your sobs hiccupping quiet as Levi watched on, shocked still.

“I know you’re young. It must hurt so much to have lost her. But she would have wanted you to live on. Listen to me,” Kuchel demanded, gripping your shoulder now, your chin still caught in her grasp, “crying will not do anything. It won’t bring your mother back. It won’t make this world less cruel. It will not save you. Only you can do that. Now, stop these senseless tears. If you want to live, you have to eat, and Yensen has given us extra rations to keep you fed... he’s investing quite a bit in you.” 

She tugged you to your feet with that hand on your shoulder, hands rougher than mummas had ever been, your shocked stiff form almost toppling once she released you. 

No one had ever- 

You had never been spoken to like that. 

As you followed Miss Kuchel, numb and weary, you realized your tears had finally stopped.

You stopped weeping so much after that. Really, you had stopped all together. You wanted to make Miss Kuchel proud, wanted to prove to that rude boy, Levi, that you were not a crybaby. If miss was right, and tears solved nothing, then you figured they were a waste of time. 

You resolutely built up a wall between you and the part of you that screamed and cried whenever anything went wrong, instead choosing to foster a calmer version of yourself, one made of sterner stuff, like Miss. Even now, in the early morning, you resolutely reminded yourself that if you wanted to live, you had to be stronger. 

“Levi, take the girl out of here once she’s finished eating. I have a client this morning, and I need you both out of the room earlier than usual,” Miss Kuchel said, putting a pretty hair pin into her hair, twisting the raven locks into an elegant sweep. 

You smiled at her, chirping “Wow, miss, you must be really good with your clients, if they come this early!”

Miss Kuchel froze, her expression becoming more fragile than you had ever seen, before she shook herself, and scowled. She looked older, somehow, when she was angry. 

“y/n, it doesn’t take much talent to spread your legs and look pretty,” she snapped, and you recoiled.

To what?

“A good whore,” Kuchel snapped at you, heedless of how you shrank away from her, “is one who can survive. You’d do well to remember that. Listen to people around you. Learn how to make them love you, and if you can’t do that, make them fear you.” 

You gawked up at her, feeling pieces click too rapidly in your young mind. You had just turned seven, only half a year had passed since your mother died. A whore? She had been a..?

“Miss...” you began, voice quivering despite how you tried to steel it, “you... did my mother..?”

Kuchel huffed, all her hot air going quickly at the sight of you, brows furrowed in confusion and sorrow. She reminded herself of how little you knew, and how fast you were learning. She felt some kind of pride when she looked at you now, stronger and braver than you’d been when she bartered for your life, when she found you crying on the floor, “she tried to shield you from it. I have as well, but there comes a time where protecting your child means they cannot protect themselves. Your mother did what she had to do to make you survive.” 

What she had to do to make you able to survive, you thought rather bleakly, was die. Die and leave you to the Ackerman duo, even Levi too sharp and too cunning despite his age. You were a kitten in a snake den, and they were as apt to bite you as they were to protect you. 

But still, it was better than the streets. 

Still, you felt safe here, cared for here, protected here.

You turned to the quiet boy by the door, watching him watch the situation unfold, and sighed, “Levi... lets go.” 

Kuchel smiled then, teeth too sharp in the dawns light. You felt like she was somehow proud of you, then, for shutting yourself away from her, even if only for half a moment. 

Levi considered you slowly, slate eyes watching as you trudged to the door. His eyes flicked to his mother, seeing how her gaze settled on the two of you, her cubs. He had never seen her look so viciously proud as right then. 

You glanced at Levi, waiting for him, unwilling to venture out without him by your side. He shouldered past you through the door. 

“C’mon crybaby.” he murmured, and you bristled. 

“Hey!” you shouted, chasing after him as he strode away from you, “I don’t cry anymore! Stop calling me that!” 

Kuchel watched you go, and felt a weight lift from her weary shoulders. No, Levi wouldn’t be alone, not with you so clearly beginning to latch onto him.

She felt, for the first time in six months, that the bargain she made with your life was paying off.

“Don’t say it like that.” you snarled, low and angry. Your hands shook where you had balled them into fists. 

You see, all that crybaby energy had to go somewhere. It went right to your blood. The emotional outbursts had refined from tantrums to acerbic words and clumsy fights. Circumstances had turned you into a livewire, and it was giving Levi a constant headache. 

See, you weren’t good at fighting. You never had learned the skill, with how you mumma had coddled you, and how Miss Kuchel was usually busy with clients. Instead, you flew by the skin of your teeth. You threw punches with shitty form, you couldn’t dodge a hit for anything, you were pint sized, compared to your usual opponenets. Your fighting style was simply swing until something stops moving.

Half the time, you didn’t even have your eyes open.

Even now, as you stood across from a bully from the orphanage who was above your weight class, you had your eyes halfway to shut. 

“What? Whore? Are you offended because that’s all you’ll ever be, living in that brothel?” 

You snarled, furious and thinking of your mother of how her face was a warm blur to you now, her voice a calming buzz, who had died a whore, who had died trying to keep you safe and innocent in a world that gave fuck all for safety, for innocence. 

You thought of Miss Kuchel, who seemed to get more tired every day, without your mother there to help ebb the flow of pickier clients. You watched her be run ragged as a whore as she tried to survive to keep her son alive, to keep you alive. To keep you both from being alone.

How dare this little shit say the word whore with such blatant disgust. 

Your blood was brought to boil. You lunged. 

Levi got there first.

He grabbed you violently around the shoulders, using his larger mass to tug you away from Vic, hissing expletives in your ear all the while about how mom would kill him if he let you get your ass beat again. 

Vic made a move to follow you, but the sound of horses broke him from the action, as you watched the clean men in the nice uniforms come back into the town. One coughed into his fist a few times, shoulders shaking as he did, and headed towards the brothel. 

“Come on, brat.” Levi muttered, tugging you along by your skinny wrist as he took advantage of the distraction. 

You growled, but relented, instead hissing and jabbering at him. “How can you stand that, Levi!? How can you just be so... so calm!? Miss Kuchel is the strongest person I know! Just because Vics mom works for the wall people at that orphanage doesn’t mean she’s better than Miss! Just luckier.” 

Levi continued dragging you, almost like he hadn’t heard. You took a deep breath, gearing up to keep on blowing off steam, when he stopped suddenly and grabbed your hand. 

You blanched. “Levi...?”

He cradled your still clenched and shaking fist. He soothed his fingers along the lines in your knuckles until you stopped huffing quite so angrily, and then he uncurled and recurled your fingers back into the shape they were in, but wrapped your thumb over the middle of your fingers, on the outside.

“If you’re going to risk throwing a punch, don’t break your hand,” he finally muttered, “you’re too reckless.” 

You bared your teeth at the criticism, but then it fell away as you read the sentimentality behind the words, and you smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Levi, for teaching me.” 

He scoffed, dropping your hand like he was scalded. “Just stop picking stupid fights. Especially on moms behalf. She’d go insane if she knew.” 

You hummed, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just... she’s always looked out for me, you know?” 

He looked at you a little oddly, before nodding shakily. 

“Cmon. Lets go see what the brothel has to offer for lunch.”

When Miss Kuchel got sick, there was little you could do. 

You tried to convince the pimp to get her medicine, to help her, but he only watched you, as if waiting for something from you. He eventually shook his head, looking past your short frame into the room. He took in Kuchels frail frame, shoulders shaking beneath pale and sickly skin as she coughed. Her gray eyes, once so pretty, so lively, found his, and he resisted the urge to flinch. They were already deadened.

He pursed his lips behind the strip of cloth he used as a mask, watching as you grew desperate before him, begging him softly to please help her. He reached out and ruffled your hair, like Miss Kuchel did, like Mumma, like Levi, and your skin crawled and stomach tossed. 

He read the thinly veiled revulsion, and grinned sickly behind the mask as you still didn’t push him away. He watched you steel yourself and continue to plead. Yes, he realized, you would be a great investment. It seemed the fundamentals of being a whore came naturally to you. If you could keep your virginity, you may even be auctioned off for your first night...

“She’s not worth the coin,” he said coldly, even as his eyes fell on the little dark haired boy curled by his mothers sick bed, clutching her hand. “I’m doing you a favor now, even letting her stay here with how disgusting she is. She’s not gonna make it the week.”

You heard the shuffle of Levi behind you, curling deeper into himself, grabbing his mother tighter, as if he could keep her warm, keep her alive through force alone. You were hungry, you were starving in this room with Kuchel too sick to feed you. You were sore, and tired, and scared of what would happen if she-

What if she left just like mom had?

You were furious. 

You knocked his hand away from where it rested on your head, and watched with grim satisfaction as it flopped to his side, hearing him let out a shocked grunt. You took a breath, beginning to gear up for another one of your snarling rants when-

“Yensen.” 

Kuchels voice was like broken glass. Far from the tinkling harmony it usually was when she spoke to the pimp, winding him around her finger. 

“You’ll remember what I said?” she sounded so tired, so spent, and he nodded, looking suddenly uncomfortable at the memory of her convincing him to take you in, “Levi... he helps her. Don’t toss him to the wayside.” she begged, and the mans face grew grim. 

“Kuchel, I cannot take in every damn orphan in the underground,” he growled, before striding away, closing the door behind him. 

Levi had gone stock still, you saw, and you knew what he was thinking of. 

Orphan?

Kuchel snarled, and then coughed wetly into the hankerchief gripped in the hand free of her sons. She let out a broken sounding sob, and the noise nearly brought you to your knees. “Miss...” you murmured, reaching out to her. 

You had never seen her so small. Her shoulders were birdlike beneath your hands, her skin graying rapidly. You had kept her clean, washing her skin when she became too weak to move from the illness, but now you doubted you could even move her without hurting her. 

“Fuck...” Kuchel hissed, weakly scrubbing the tears from where they had spilt down her temples, “I’m sorry, children. I’m so sorry.” 

You knelt beside her, next to Levi, keeping your hand on her shoulder, and the other wrapped around his wrist. You felt Kuchels chest heave as she sobbed out years of pain and worry, and for the years she would miss. You felt Levi’s pulse between your shaking fingers, the jackrabbiting of it telling you everything you needed to know about if he was as scared as you. It was so odd, seeing Miss Kuchel break down. It was wrong. 

Minutes or hours later, when Kuchels tears had dried, she pulled herself away from the two of you, hauling herself up onto her elbows to sit up. She hissed when you reached to help her, swaying dangerously to keep away from you. 

“Listen to me.” she said, voice crackling and gravelly, and you thought how strong she was yet again, “Levi.”

Levi hunched deeper into himself, shaking harder now, and your heart broke for him, a chasm opening within it. But even so, you could feel an ache rising to fill it, an anger. 

“Levi!” you snapped, “Look at her!” 

He flinched at your tone, wide eyes finding yours in shock, and you gripped his wrist tighter as he tried to pull from you. You would have given anything to have had this chance with your mom. You wouldn’t let him squander it.

“She’s your mom,” you cried, “look at her!” 

While you still have the chance rang unspoken in the air, like a tolling bell, and he looked away. When he finally gathered the courage to look at Kuchel, you could see the wetness in his eyes. 

“You’re so strong,” Kuchel said, shaking hand coming to ghost over her sons cheek, “An Ackerman, through and through. I want you to beat this world. I want to watch you come out on top.” 

You felt like you were intruding on their moment, watching her imbue his spine with the same metal she had always had, even as her arm quaked holding herself up. 

“I never wanted to leave you alone,” she murmured, eyes flickering softly to you, and she reached out to ruffle your hair softly, washing away Yensens touch in moments, “and thanks to her, I won’t. Take care of eachother. Stay alive. Survive, whatever the cost. I beg of you.” 

You nodded your head swiftly, hand wrapping around Levi’s shaking one, and you pursed your lips in determination. Levi’s fingers twisted to twine with yours, and he shook harder beside you, desperate eyes drinking in his sick mother. Every moment felt like the last, every breath she took, you fought the urge to hold yours.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling boy,” she whispered, growing tired. “Of both of you. Now please, go play. Leave me to rest.” 

Levi opened his mouth to protest, and you stood to leave, releasing him. 

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t.

You raced through the door, desperate to find medicine. 

If no one would help you, you would help yourself.

You fucked up. 

You knew stealing medicine would be harder than the petty theft you and Levi had screwed around with, but you didn’t know it would be tied-up-and-beaten hard. 

The store clerk had left you, curled on the ground and spitting blood, promising to turn you to the Military police on their next patrol. You felt so scared, so out of your league. Miss Kuchel couldn't save you. Levi would never leave her side to find you. You were alone here.

Maria, Rosa, and Sina help you. 

The one thing Miss Kuchel had asked of you...

You couldn’t leave Levi alone. 

and so you got to work on the knots binding your wrists, the rope rubbing your skin raw and red. 

You needed to grab that fucking medicine and go. 

You didn’t know how long it took you, tugging at the ties and hissing as your sore fingers cracked and popped from keeping them curled up in such an unnatural way, before you were finally loose. 

The store clerk had gone to bed, not seeing such a small girl as a threat. Foolish bastard. He would pay for that. You scrambled out of the small room he kept you in, knees aching and legs wobbling after sitting for so long. You launched your small elbow through the window of the store room, unwilling to bother with wasting time on the lock. Kuchel needed you. 

You frantically snatched a variety of medicine, frantic and quick as you heard a crash from the floor above you. You didn’t have time to read labels, just shoving handful after handful into your knapsack. You let out a frantic whimper as you grabbed one last fistful of bagged powder from beneath the counter, and sprinted out of the shop as fast as your legs could carry you. It was dark in the underground at night, and you were more scared now than you were when the store owner caught you. You had never been outside so late. 

You tripped some blocks away, adrenaline fading fast and leaving you feeling all the aches and pains the man had left you with. Your ribs burst with needle like jabs every time you panted out a new breath, and it didn't help when you crashed to the ground on them, arms curling to protect your stolen medicine more than your injured body. 

Kuchel needed you. 

You had been gone for a few days now, the frantic trek across the underground to one of the lesser known clinics took you a while, and you knew going back would take longer still, with your wounded body throbbing reminders of what you had survived with every step. 

Still, you trudged on.

Kuchel needed you.

Levi needed you. 

Please, you thought, let me get back in time. 

You didn’t make it back in time. 

You knew as soon as you opened the door, days old stench rising to meet you. You were far too late. She had died while you were still fiddling with knots, while you cut your elbow breaking glass to steal antibiotics, while you were napping because you got kicked in the head a little too hard.

You looked at the scene before you in shock. The proud and strong Miss Kuchel left to rot in her bed, her leakage staining the sheets she worked to keep pristine and white. You couldn’t... you couldn’t understand. 

You had got the medicine. Everything was supposed to be fine.

You threw up, shocking yourself. The mess landed at your feet and on your shirt, adding an acrid smell to the sweetness of rotting meat.

“M-miss...” you croaked, stepping towards her. you were halfway across the small room when you kicked something. Looking down, you saw Levi. Curled in on himself still, like that day you left. 

Your hands shook as you kneeled to look at him, taking in his sunken features from days without food, unsure and aching. What were you supposed to do? What would Kuchel do?

You knew the answer to that one. 

You grabbed Levi’s hand, prying it from where it was curled around the back of his head. He startled, looking up at you with fear and shock in his eyes. 

He blinked, once, twice, then grimaced, “I thought you were gone,” he croaked, “like mom.” 

You shook your head, “I’m sorry, Levi.”

He let out a dry sounding sob, before stilling again, “I thought I was gone, too.”

You grit your teeth. You thought of Kuchel, of how she had drug you back from the brink, of how she taught you how to survive. You would not lose the only person you had left, you vowed, you would return Miss Kuchels kindness with another. 

“Levi. Get up. Miss wouldn’t have wanted you to die here. You have to survive,” you yanked him easily to his unsteady feet, taking in how he wavered and drooped in your grasp, “Walls, Levi, you have to eat.”

You pulled him from the room, desperately, tugging him along. If you could get him out of there, into fresher air, you could save him. Just one step after the other. You had lost your mother, you had lost Kuchel. You would not lose Levi.

You released him from your grasp outside the room, a little further down the hall. You let him sag against the wall as you pulled a loaf of bread from your knapsack. “here,” you whispered, “eat.” 

Levi took a cautious nibble of the bread, before savagely scarfing it down, shaking and sobbing as he did, seeming to finally break apart as you held him close, tucking him against your chest. You let him sob his heart out into your filthy shirt, clutch your aching waist as he scrambled for something to keep him grounded. You didn’t know how long the sound went on for, the desperation, before he calmed. He sounded so much like Miss Kuchel when he cried. You fought back the emotion rising in your throat, unwinding a hand to wipe the side of your mouth.

You glanced up when you heard footsteps, steeling yourself to see Yensen. If that son of a bitch even tried to separate you and Levi, you swore you would kill him. Your hands found the broken shard of glass in your knapsack, from the window you had busted. You weren’t letting anyone be taken from you by him again. 

Your arm curled tighter around Levi’s still shoulders, feeling his sleeping form puff breaths against your neck. Your gauze wrapped fingers curled around your makeshift knife with vicious determination. Never again, you promised yourself.

You heard the footsteps round the corner and snarled, only to find an odd man you had never seen before. Dark hair going down to his shoulders, an earring, slate gray eyes, and a tall lithe form approached you slowly. 

The stranger looked impassively at the two of you, just some whoreson and whore-to-be to him, but he still pursed his lips, long fingers on scarred hands pushing his black hair from his face.

“You kids know where Kuchel Ackerman happens to be?” he questioned, before nudging Levi harshly with his foot, as you snarled, startling him awake, “kid, I’m fucking talking to you. 

“Leave him alone! If you’re here for her body, you can find it yourself you fucking bastard. Let Levi rest!”

The stranger stilled. Eyes taking in Levi and you with far more interest, lingering on the boys familiar features, dark hair, and slate gray teary eyes. Well, I’ll be fucked, he thought, “I thought she’d gotten rid of it.”

He watched you curl around Levi, the boy obviously still sleepy and confused. He saw the glint of the glass in your gauze-wrapped hand. Fuck me twice, Kuchel adopted a wildcat.

Still, he forced himself back onto the more pertinent topic. 

“What do you mean, brats? ‘The body’?”

pt iii

#attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagine #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #aot #snk #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine #anime #manga

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (Part V)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ; 

Read part IV here 

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, a little dirty (not quite smut, but a bit steamy).

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

You opened your eyes slowly, panicking when you didn’t realize where you were. Your body went into fight or flight mode, but you breathed in deeply to calm yourself and smelt whiskey, leather, and vanilla. Dean, you thought to yourself smiling and letting out the breath you were holding, when the night returned to you all at once. Every word you confessed to Dean flashed through your memory, like a “previously on...” TV opener.

You told him everything...

Suddenly you felt sick and leaned over his bed afraid you might vomit. Your mind was going a million miles an hour, spiraling again thinking the complete worst. What did he think of you? He must be disgusted by what you did. Horrified and couldn’t wait for you to do the right thing and leave the brothers again.

Your thoughts were propelling you out of bed and into a standing position, swaying back and forth a little with the lack of oxygen to your brain. It was as if your thoughts were completely taking over and your body acted on autopilot. You were to your room with your one bag packed quickly, pulling on a sweatshirt over your shirt and sweat pants, not caring how you presented yourself at the moment. It was almost 1:00pm and you figured you could make it to at least Utah by the end of the day if you sped. The boys had plenty of random vehicles in the garage, they wouldn’t miss one, right?

You were still lost in your thoughts as you rushed down the hallway and into the war room, gripping the cold staircase railing when you heard shuffling behind you. You hadn’t noticed that Sam was sitting at the war room table shuffling through some papers that he quickly hid in a folder when you breezed past him.

“Y/N?” He questioned, taking in your packed bag and your hand on the railing. Your cursed to yourself under your breath, certain that you could have gotten away undetected had you been more clear-headed. Smarter. What kind of hunter were you even? You hadn’t meant it necessarily, but your irrational thoughts were working much faster than your brain was, and you answered your own rhetorical question with a resounding, I’m not one. You hadn’t been a hunter for a long time and it was undeniable the longer you attempted to face your past. And if you weren’t a hunter you were definitely useless to the Winchesters.

Sam had long ago risen to his feet waiting for any kind of motion from you, but he noticed you seemed to be muttering to yourself softly, and it worried him. After confessing to him in the bathroom, Dean had recounted Y/N’s story to his brother, leaving out some of the more private things they spoke about last night. But Sam got the gist of the conversation, and being a researcher first and foremost, was up early printing out pages on trauma survivors, hoping something would help. One of the first articles he was skimming when you rushed in reminded the reader that survivors would try to return to the safety of what they considered “normal,” especially after confiding in a loved one about their trauma. The bag and Y/N’s tense shoulders made sense. She was running from what happened last night and Sam didn’t blame her. It was hard enough keeping Dean relatively calm this morning and convincing him to not run away from what he was feeling. He only hoped you were able to accept Dean and his help.

“Y/N...” Sam repeated, wipeing his palms on his jeans lightly, full of nervous energy. He wasn’t scared of what you might say or do, but he was scared of messing up and pushing you further away. He had to reel you back in a little so that you knew you didn’t have to run away.

You still weren’t looking at him, but stood stiffly on the stairs leading up to the bunker exit. It wouldn’t take more than 12 steps and you could be gone. Just move your feet! But they wouldn’t cooperate, and instead you were completely frozen.

“Y/N, listen.” Sam continued, staring at your back. “You don’t have to run. Dean and I,” you glanced back and saw him looking around for his brother and you wondered the same thing. Was Dean trying to escape you too?

“We’re here for you.” Sam finished, begging you with his eyes to back away from the steps and put your bag down. Ah, you thought to yourself. Dean told him. So both brothers knew your worst moment... Knowing this didn’t make you feel any better, and you felt your stomach tighten again, thinking of the younger Winchester when he was just a kid and how innocent he was. Eyes still full of life and so much energy. He would have hated you, your mind told you harshly. He probably hates you now.

You had to know. You had to see Sam’s face clearly right now and look into his eyes so you could see what he thought. If you felt he held any animosity toward you, you would leave. That was easy enough.

Willing your legs to move, you turned around slowly, bag still held tight in your hand. The corners of Sam’s mouth lifted up a bit when you finally met his eyes, which were a bright grey, almost white from far away. This color always reminded you of clouds and bright sunny days, and you knew instantly that Sam wasn’t angry with you. The thought took your breath away and you launched yourself forward into Sam’s open arms, gripping the back of his shirt tightly, like he was the only thing keeping you afloat. Knowing he wasn’t angry had you feeling every emotion you were trying to repress since you stood up from Dean’s bed. Before you knew it, loud sobs were racking your body and you were attempting to speak at the same time, trying to relay all of your thoughts to Sam.

“I thought you’d hate me, Sam,” you hiccuped out, voice muffled from his flannel. “I killed someone. I can’t ever take that back, and I thought that I would see nothing but hate and anger in your eyes when I finally saw you.” You didn’t slow down, shaking as Sam rubbed both hands up and down your back holding you close while you cried. “Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t bear to feel the way I had felt for so long.” You tensed a little, confessing to Sam what was really weighing on your chest making it hard to breath. You didn’t want to hurt Greg, but you didn’t want to be hurt anymore either.

“Shhh.” Sam shushed you quietly, trying to get you to calm down a little so that he could speak. You hiccuped a few more times, eyes red and raw from crying so hard. When your breathing was less jumpy, Sam raised your chin a little so that you were looking into his grey eyes again. “Listen.” He attempted to use Dean’s tone, trying to make you listen intently, and it made you giggle quietly, as he failed to capture the way Dean made people listen. But you continued looking into his eyes, so he knew you were listening.

“The situation you were in... I couldn’t imagine. And I could never judge you for reacting in the way you did. You didn’t have a choice, and I could never be angry with you for protecting yourself at a time when we all should have been protecting you.” Sam hid his eyes from you quickly. Damn these selfless Winchesters, you thought to yourself huffing out a sigh. They would always blame themselves for things completely out of their control. Sam looked into your eyes again and they were a light blue, and you read guilt on his face.

You shook your head in response. “You don’t get to do that Sam. There is nothing you could have done.” Your tone was final, and looking more and more like the little boy that you remember, Sam nodded his head obediently. You nodded back, glad that was decided.

There was a cough from the doorway, and you both spun around laying eyes on a grinning Dean. He must have listened silently to much of your guy’s conversation, and Sam shuffled awkwardly next to you. But you took in the older Winchester, wearing a simple black shirt and the old jean flannel that you loved, staring right back at you, arms crossed leaning against the door frame.

“I’m glad you two got a chance to talk.” He finally spoke out, his voice level and comforting. Sam nudged you gently, and you smirked at him. You saw the smile on Dean’s face fade away when he saw the bag you had dropped by the staircase when you rushed to hug Sam. His younger brother traced his gaze, and cleared his throat, muttering something about more research, rushing out of the room.

Dean turned his gaze to you again questioning. You wouldn’t look directly at him, so he approached you slowly, cautious like his brother had been. You crossed your arms across your chest protectively when he came close to you, and he placed his hands near your elbows, simultaneously grounding you and making you want to run far away from the way he made you feel.

“Baby,” He whispered gently, tone different in the light of the day. “Why would you leave?” You shrugged still refusing to look at him, but he wouldn’t take that as an answer. His eyes narrowed in warning, and you sighed, suprisingly feeling newfound courage after last night.

“I knew you two would hate me after what I told you. I didn’t want to see it on your faces. Especially not yours...” Dean continued to stare at you, and you finally made eye contact, his eyes darkening in a way that was unreadable to you. He opened his mouth a couple times, snapping it closed immediately after, unsure of how to begin this conversation.

“Why would we ever hate you, Y/N?” Though you knew deep down that everything you were thinking and feeling today was irrational, you still scoffed at the question, pulling away from his reach. His hands stayed in the same position they had been resting on your arms, but he snapped them down to his sides after a beat, looking exhausted again. You hated seeing him this way, and you wanted to smooth down the creases that were appearing under his eyes and between his brow. Though you were the one that stepped away, your body urged you back toward him, and you stepped forward, wanting to be near him again. He kept looking at you with the same questioning look, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. The lies and the secrets that continued to weight on your chest. You haven’t breathed normally since you were a silly teenager tailing after Dean Winchester. Perhaps he was the one person who could take you back to that moment. Help you breath normally again.

“I killed someone, Dean.” You spoke quietly, but with conviction, suddenly wanting Dean to know all of you. “And then I just disappeared. Left everything and everyone behind, and started a new life. I was scared, and hurt, and I never, after all these years, dealt with what I did.” You were so close to Dean you could smell the faint smell of his cologne, but he didn’t attempt to hold you in place again. You didn’t know where this conversation was taking you, but you wanted him to understand what was happening in your mind.

“When I ran, all I wanted to do was find you and Sam. I missed you so much.” You felt tears spring to your eyes, and though you didn’t really want to cry in front of Dean, you were trying hard to allow yourself to simply feel your emotions after all of these years. You knew it wasn’t going to happen instantly, but you were attempting to heal yourself. Finally. “All I wanted was you...” You breathed out your final thought, looking directly into Dean’s eyes, which held emotion, but you couldn’t tell which.

“But all I kept thinking was how much you and Sam would hate me for what I did. I mean it was like the first thing John and my dad taught us, ‘saving people, and hunting things.’ Greg wasn’t a monster. He was a person.” Dean finally lifted one of his hands and ran it comfortingly up and down your arm.

“Baby, he was hurting—“ but you cut him off, trying to control the volume of your voice.

“And I didn’t have to kill him!” Tears were rushing down your cheeks now as you thought of Greg’s body lying lifeless in front of you, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much you tried to heal, you couldn’t get that image out of your head.

“And you were only 13, Y/N.” Dean argued back, returning his arms to your shoulders, anchoring you in place. “And you had been taught to arm and protect yourself when there was danger. You are and have always been a hunter.” He let his words hang in the air as you continued to cry, big tears sliding down your face and dripping onto your sweatshirt. You had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself again, protecting yourself from both your emotions and Dean, no matter how irrational it was.

“Come here,” Dean muttered, pulling you close to him, though you didn’t unwrap your arms. He held you tightly as you silently cried, tired of dealing with your emotions for the moment. You realized Dean never answered the question that was bouncing around in your mind.

“Do you hate me, Dean?” You whispered into his chest. You weren’t even sure he heard you, but you felt him take a deep breath preparing himself to say something. Dean waited a beat, enjoying having you close to him before he decided to pull you away and speak what was on his heart.

“Baby, I am so ridiculously in love with you, there is not an inch of room for hate, or judgement, or any of the other fears you have of how I would react to what you told me last night.” Dean didn’t speak fast, making sure each of his words were leveled and that you heard them. And you had, staring at him open mouthed, barely believing the words that were tumbling from his mouth. Even though you heard him loud and clear you asked him to repeat it.

“What did you just say?” He gave you a gentle exasperated look and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since before I even realized what the feeling of love was.” You continued to stare and he rewarded you with a full smile, clearly relieved to confess this to you. He lifted his hand slowly to cup your cheek and wipe away at the tears drying on them. You didn’t know what to say to him, but he didn’t seem to care, only continuing to smile at you.

“You know, I used to skip out on hunts constantly when I knew that you would be hanging out at Bobby’s. I didn’t want you to be alone, but I wanted to be around you more than I wanted to go after monsters. I would’ve chosen ‘hide & seek’ over hunting every time if I could’ve...” He trailed off lost in thinking about the woulda, coulda, shouldas, and the life we could have had.

“You skipped out on hunts?” You questioned, your voice quiet and a little gruff from crying. He nodded looking down at your sheepishly. “You told me John wouldn’t let you go on certain hunts after certain monsters. I figured it was just too dangerous.” Your voice sounded a bit accusatory, and you didn’t mean it that way, but your mind was racing thinking about all the small things Dean did when you were younger that might have been him telling you he loved you.

“Yeah...” Dean ran his hand through his short hair nervously.

“I didn’t want you to know I was choosing to not go. I still wanted you to think I was a badass hunter, but I wanted to spend time with you more.” He looked so cute confessing to you, and you finally smiled thinking about all of the time you had together, getting to know each other, because Dean chose to allow for it. You were so grateful to him in that moment for giving you some of the happiest days of your life.

His hand was still cupping your cheek, and you glanced up at him giving him a real smile, probably the most real smile you’ve used in a long time. Dean noticed and awarded you with one of his own before turning a bit serious.

“Y/N...” He started, looking determined, but nervous, and maybe a little scared. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at his question and nodded your head, staring up into forest green eyes.

Dean leaned slowly forward, cupping your cheek with his other hand as well, and placed his lips lightly to yours. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. The rest of Dean was rough and course from years of working, but his lips were ridiculously soft, and you leaned into him deepening the kiss. You felt the rumble of a light groan in Dean’s chest as you pressed against him harder. His hands moved to your waist and yours rested across his shoulders. You felt his tongue dart out against your lips, asking for permission, and you opened your mouth slowly, letting his tongue explore.

You were lost in the kiss when you heard a cough from the doorway. Dean reluctantly broke away turning toward his brother with an annoyed look on his face. You swiped at your lips quickly, trying to compose yourself. Sam looked guilty, but also a little scared and you grabbed onto Dean’s arm to ground yourself.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” Sam started with a grimace. “I just got a call from Bobby... Apparently someone was just at his house.”

Dean scoffed next to you and you gripped his arm a bit harder, figuring this had to be going somewhere. “So?” Dean grunted out, anxious for his brother to get to the point.

Sam didn’t waiver under his brother’s annoyance, but rather got more serious.

“Dean... he said someone was looking for Y/N.”

Read part VI here.

When We Were Young Tag List: @woundedxsmile @vicmc624

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural family #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean x fem!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #spn famdom

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

• Warnings: mild adult content (fantasies).

a sapphire for your heart, part III

On the very first day of your arrival, you travelled on horseback all the way to Cent. There, one of Reda’s eyes was waiting to offer you a tent to sleep in and a complete refill of your rations. Dover Cliffs called to you, especially at night, when the moon's pallid glow reflected off those abrupt, chalky shores. Somewhere within those narrow crevices in the mountain, a deep energy pulsed with life; a tear of mother nature, hidden and forgotten among piles and piles of sand and pebbles. You followed that silent lull, and by sunrise, you exited those pristine canyons with a bag full of colorful gems.

Several days after your find, you returned to Ravensthorpe to meet Reda again. You’ve been so focused on your treasure-digging tasks that you’ve forgotten all about the residents of that growing little village. However, the closer you rode to Randvi, the more she crossed your mind. You nearly stopped several times when you heard a voice similar to hers calling in Norwegian. And when you’d catch a glimpse of a woman’s beautiful auburn hair, your gaze would naturally follow. Of course, it wasn’t her; but oh… how much you secretly wished it was.

As you spotted the longhouse in the distance, your heart begun to race and flutter all at once. In the back of your mind, you’ve always thought of her; but now, without any tasks to distract you from your fantasies, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a deep, burning desire to be in her presence again.

Gods, if only she knew…

“Hello again. Back so soon?”

Reda called from beneath the large sage tree, where he’d gathered all the village children to tell them stories. You smiled as you dismounted your horse.

“Soon? With a map so well-drawn, I’d be embarrassed to take a moment longer.”

By evening, everyone was gathered in the longhouse for supper. Cheers and traditional music echoed off those tall wooden walls, creating a pleasant atmosphere to enjoy a drink with close friends and family. You were ravenous from your long trip back, and yet you took your time to savor your meal as you told stories of your travels. The children were flocking around your table, and some adults eventually turned to watch you whilst the music played a little softer.

“A dragon?! You really saw a real, talking, flaming dragon?”

A little boy asked, and you had to bite back laughter. Your story did have a grain of truth, but perhaps not as fantastic as their wild imagination made it to be. You wiped your mouth with a handkerchief and continued.

“It was asleep when I got there. Petrified. Yet his scales shimmered like little drops of gold, and his wings were made of millions of precious stones. All of them were red, like poppies.”

“Oh, oh! I know! They’re called rubies!” A small girl exclaimed as she shifted on her seat with vivid excitement. You confirmed with a nod as you smiled at her warmly, but then, your gaze seemed to naturally find that familiar figure which never left you mind.

Randvi was there, leaning against a pillar with her strong arms crossed over her chest. While she was a small distance away, she seemed to have been listening to your tales with great interest, her dazzling eyes affixed on you. You couldn’t look away. The sight of her was something to behold; a rough kind of beauty you’ve never seen before, a warrior enveloped in sensual feminine charms. There was a hint of a smile on her rosy lips, and her gaze softened the more you peered into her beckoning eyes. She motioned with her head for you to follow her into the map room, and without question, you did.

The creaking floor boards disheveled your nerves, like little ripples on the surface of a very still lake. Heat rushed to your cheeks as Randvi suddenly turned to face you, leaning back against the large table. A particular kind of charm lingered about her – a deep, sultry energy. It was her beautiful blue eyes, the way she looked at you, silently inviting.

“I interrupted you, I’m sorry.” She spoke and you quickly shook your head. It was fine. For her, anything was fine.

“I recently came across something that might interest you. It belonged to a group of raiders which attempted an attack on Ravensthorpe, and of course, greatly failed.” And she reached across the table to produce a neatly folded map, carefully opening it. You stood still, silent and in awe, finding it more and more difficult to focus on anything but her.

Were you bewitched? Was this fate mercilessly tossing you into a bottomless pit of beautiful despair? You couldn’t quite tell why you were feeling so weak all of a sudden. She was indeed enthralling, but it was more than her ravishing appearance which pulled you in. She was full of secrets. Hidden beneath that strong, stoic shield, there were raw emotions and passions waiting to be discovered. And they called for you, just like mother nature’s precious treasures called to be unearthed.

“Come here, have a better look.” Randvi motioned for you gently, and you followed like a moth to a flame. By Gods, you must’ve been a hopeless cause.

“Ah, I see.” You took in a sharp breath as you scanned the new map quickly. For you, those symbols and roads were easy to read and interpret, like second nature. You could already picture the real landscape, the ruins, the earth which hid those treasures well. That energy vibrating from beneath stone and soil, waiting to be found.

“If you help us find it, we will fairly spread it in half.” The beautiful warrior murmured quietly, and when her arm draped over your narrow shoulders to pull you in, you thought your legs would crumble. Her hand was heavy, her grip strong as she cupped your arm; yet she was careful not to hurt, gentle like a dove. She whispered details of the treasures only for you to hear, mindful of the many people still indulging in the plentiful dinner. You nodded, absorbing each word that rolled so gracefully off her lips as you followed the trail of her finger on the map. Surely, her intention was not to stir you up like this, but the closeness was overwhelming, suffocating, making you burn all over.

You slowly shifted away from beneath her large, strong arm, and dared to find her gaze in the glowing light of the ceiling. Her beautiful, thick eyebrows rose and she appeared surprised that you pulled away. Whether it was just your naïve mind giving false meaning to a woman’s innocent acts, you couldn’t tell, but if what you saw in Randvi was true, then your feelings were reciprocated. Quickly, you nodded.

“I accept. In two days we can start our journey.” You spoke with newfound confidence, pulling yourself together.

***

The warmth of that beautiful Norse goddess’s touch left a deep, burning imprint on your shoulder.

Albeit it was harshly storming and the winds were crisp, you felt hot and sleep refused to pull you in the land of dreams. The bedding was heavy, tangling in your limbs as you shifted from side to side restlessly. Each time your tired eyelids fell closed, you saw the image of her;  handsome cheekbones glowing, a piercing pair of eyes shimmering like Larimar and Azurite, and lips like dew dripping off wild rose petals.

Your chest heaved with a deep sigh as you slowly relaxed your body. There was a smouldering feeling between your legs, pulsing, making you shift and press your knees together. The thought of Randvi aroused you, filled your mind with unholy thoughts. You suddenly craved her rough grip, imagining how good those powerful viking hands would feel on your breasts, on your throat, and on your hips… How skillfully that beautiful mouth of hers would stir your desires as it would dance across your lips…

Thunder struck by your window, abruptly pulling you from your dirty fantasies, and you sat up. Rain came in heavy waves, drenching the little village. It called to you, like many of mother nature’s wonderful things did, and so you left your hut to sit beneath that heavy pour, trusting those cold drops to chase the devil out of you. And you spun, with arms outstretched, welcoming that freezing sensation which enveloped your body. As you slowly danced in the rain, thoroughly running your hands through your long hair, you briefly noticed light in the longhouse. It must’ve been the hearth which burned continuously – a never-dying flame of warmth and soothing, homely comfort. Curiosity pushed you towards that enormous structure, unarmed and barefoot as you were, and with your night dress heavily dripping with rainwater.

The cold was beginning to settle in your bones, and so, as you reached the warm entrance to the longhouse, you stood beneath its majestic threshold to bask in that golden light. The scent of fire and old wood lingered in the air pleasantly. As you guessed, no one was around at that ungodly hour of the night – but you heard it again… that deep, heart wrenching, muffled sob.

It was her; Randvi.

However, instead of weeping over ‘Eivor', she was faintly calling her husband’s name in between soft cries and suffocated breaths. That feeble voice impaled your heart, twisting and turning in your chest as if her pain was your own. Oh, how much you wished to break those walls down and wrap her in your arms, to kiss the anguish off her heated cheeks and never see a single tear of suffering in those precious azure gems. But as you heard heavy steps echo into the map chamber, you rushed back to your hut, terrified of being caught.

-          To be continued…

*part IV.

#randvi x reader #randvi fanfiction #valhalla #randvi #lesbian fanfic #lesbian love #sapphic love

[krisdreaming]

A/N: Today is a special day because it’s Em’s birthday, @imaginethathaikyuu​!!! Em is such an amazing writer and a warm & caring person, and I’m so glad that I’ve had the chance to get to know her. This is my humble birthday offering, I hope you enjoy!

This is a college AU!

Here’s the 4+1 masterlist

Four times Keiji thinks he loves you, and the one time he finally says it out loud

i.

When Keiji gets to your dorm, you immediately pull him inside, closing the door quickly behind him. “I’m sorry,” You’re already apologizing, “I didn’t know who else to call.” You lead him to your bed, and there, in a shoe box laying on top of a folded towel, is a tiny kitten. It’s laying eerily still, and he can hear a slight wheezing sound every time it’s small chest rises and falls. 

“I found him on my way back from class, he was laying all curled up by the sidewalk. I couldn’t just leave him there. He needs help.” You reach into the box and ever so gently caress the top of the kitten’s head with your fingertip. 

He’s silent for a few moments, looking into the box and turning the situation over in his head. “I’m pretty sure there’s an emergency vet in town,” He says finally, “I can drive us there.”

You look at him, and there’s a relieved smile breaking across your face. “Really?” You breathe, “Keiji, thank you! You don’t have to do this,” You add quickly, looking back to the frail kitten. If he’s not mistaken, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I want to,” He says firmly. You’re bustling around your dorm to grab a jacket and an extra blanket to swaddle the kitten, wondering aloud if your parents will let you keep the kitten at home if he recovers, but he’s completely still, just watching you.

It’s not the first time he’s caught a glimpse of your big heart. He knows how much you care, it’s part of what drew him to you in the first place. It’s just that now, especially, something is swelling up inside his chest, and it feels an awful lot like I love you. It’s the first time he’s felt it so clearly, and he can’t help the small smile that finds its way onto his face.

ii.

Keiji rests his head on his arms and closes his eyes, just for the few minutes until class starts. He’s lucky if he got three hours of sleep last night, and he hopes he’d studied enough. This midterm is a huge part of his grade, and despite the hours he’d spent in the past week preparing for it, he still doesn’t feel too confident.

He feels a gentle touch on his arm. “Keiji,” at the sound of your voice he looks up, surprised to see you standing by his desk. You aren’t supposed to be here - you have your own class starting in about five minutes. “I thought you might need this,” You laugh softly, and he finally notices the cup in your hand when you set it down on the corner of his desk. It looks like the largest cup of coffee the campus has to offer. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Thank you,” He wraps his fingers around it, pulling it closer to himself, but he doesn’t take a sip yet. He’s still looking at you. “This is perfect,” He smiles.

“Good,” You smile back, even bigger. “Good luck today, Keiji. You’ll do great.” You lean in and press the quickest peck to his cheek. The feeling of your lips lingers even after you pull away. 

“Thank you,” He says again, because he isn’t quite sure what else to say. “You should get to class too, right? I’ll see you after.”

“Yup! You’ve got this!” You grin before you lift your hand in a quick wave and duck out of the classroom. He watches the door even after you disappear from view, his hand resting absently on his cheek at the spot where you’d placed your kiss. 

he muses that it’s probably a good thing you hadn’t stuck around any longer. Something like the words I love you might have slipped out past his sleep-deprived brain.

iii.

Keiji glances from his spot on the court to the place he knows you’ll be in the stands. When you see him looking your way, you immediately lift both both hands above your head in an exaggerated wave. He waves back at you, quickly, before the next volley starts.

Even though he’s only on the intramural team and the stands are rarely packed, you still show up at every single one of his matches. Even though this is nothing like the Black Jackals match he took you to once, no roaring crowd or big, bright stadium lights or fancy official uniforms with sponsor patches, you’re always telling him how exciting it is to watch him play. You mean it, too. He can tell.

“You don’t have to come every time, you know,” He says, afterwards, as he walks you back to your dorm. “It’s nothing special, so I don’t expect you to always be there.”

“I want to be there, silly.” You shove your shoulder against his, and he uses it as an excuse to reach for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “You love volleyball, and I love watching you play. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.” You’re important to me. I love you. He thinks it, but somehow he can’t make himself say it out loud. Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze and tugs you a little closer.

“Thanks,” He says, stopping just for a moment to press a quick kiss to your lips.

You giggle softly. “What was that for?”

He shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “Nothing in particular.”

iv.

Keiji is trying very hard not to move. The train is jostling enough as it is, and you had fallen asleep on his shoulder almost as soon as the train had started moving. He can’t blame you. It had been a long day, and you’d done a lot of walking. 

He can just make out your face in the reflection on the train window. It looks so soft and peaceful. Your lips are slightly parted, and you let out the softest sigh. Something washes over him, then - an overwhelming desire to protect you, to keep you safe, to stay by your side for as long as you’ll have him. He’s not sure where it came from.

While he’s still lost in thought, your stop comes up. Gently, he nudges you awake, and you blink at him blearily, confusion on your face for a few moments before you remember where you are.

“Oh, sorry,” You murmur, “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. You could’ve woken me.” You rub some sleep from your eyes, and he gives your cheek the softest pinch. You scrunch your nose at that, standing to exit the train.

“Nah, you looked so peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He rests his hand at the small of your back for a fraction of a second as you step off the train, and when you’re on the platform, you turn to him and grin.

“Oh?” You ask cheekily, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He nods, then quickly changes the subject. “Okay, let’s go. We need to get you to bed.”

v.

This day is definitely not turning out the way Keiji had envisioned it. When he woke up to the patter of rain hitting the windowpanes, his heart sank. He’s been planning this romantic little picnic for a few weeks now, as a way of celebrating your six month anniversary and, as a bonus, the perfect time to finally, finally tell you what he’s been feeling for so long. And now it’s raining. Even if it stops raining, the cute little park near campus is going to be soaked. 

“We can do it some other time,” You say over the phone, and he sighs. Who knows when ‘some other time’ could end up being? The end of the semester is getting closer, and he’d been lucky this weekend had worked out for both of your schedules. He lets the gears turn in his head for a few moments before responding.

“No. Come to my dorm. We can still hang out.” He looks around the room, already figuring out what he’ll do to make the place look even a little bit nicer. All he’ll have to do is make sure his roommate keeps himself scarce, and it could work.

“Okay,” You say, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “I’ll be over around noon?”

“Perfect,” He agrees. It gives him just a little more than two hours to make some preparations.

When you get to his dorm, he watches the way your expression changes when you walk into the room. You look from the blanket and pillows spread out on the ground, to the candles he’d lit (and paid his roommate 2,000 yen not to tell anyone about), and to the big bouquet of flowers. Your lips form a small, surprised O, and he pats the spot on the blanket next to him, inviting you to join him.

“Keiji,” You breathe as you sink down, still taking everything in, “This is beautiful. Honestly.”

“For a dorm room,” He chuckles, handing you a bottle of your favorite drink. “Would’ve been better in the park, but...” He shrugs and gestures to the window, where you can see the rain outside still falling.

“This is so cozy, though!” You murmur happily, scooting in a little closer so you’re just leaning against him. He shifts so that the arm bracing him up is also resting against your back. “All this, just for six months.” You laugh softly.

“Of course,” He says, his nose just brushing your cheek when he turns to see your face better, “These last six months have been wonderful. Truly. I’m really glad that I could spend them with you.” 

“Keiji,” Your voice is almost a squeak, “So am I. It’s been perfect.”

“Yeah,” He agrees, turning so you’re practically face to face and reaching for your hand, holding it loosely and brushing his thumb across the back of it. Your smile drops off and you study his face, then, almost as though you’re waiting for something. He’s been waiting too.

“Y/N,” His voice drops lower and softer, “You’re incredible. I’m amazed by you, every day. Sometimes I don’t know why you’d want to be with me,” He chuckles softly at the frown that puckers your brow at that, “But I’m glad you do. And... I love you, Y/N. So much. And I will keep on loving you for as long as you’ll let me.” For a few moments, the only sound is the rain falling outside as his words sink in. Then, all at once, you close the distance between you and throw your arms around his neck.

“Keiji,” Your words are muffled against the skin of his neck, “I love you too. Oh my god, I love you so much.” You pull back, then, and with the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world, he can’t help himself. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, because he does. More than anything.

4+1 taglist (let me know if you want to be added!):

@luna-barnes14​, @herow1n​, @disgruntled-gay​

#happy birthday Em!!! #i hope ur day's wonderful! #Haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Akaashi Keiji #Akaashi Keiji x reader #Akaashi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #queued