#or my brain will give a blue screen of death | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 5 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

369 notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

Wrong Number 5

Eddie had been having a greatest time eating in his apartment that anyone could have. Because he wasn't alone. He was with Steve. And then he got to share one of his childhood favorite movies with him. Even though it was a first date, Eddie got the feel that casual was okay. So he'd started the video call with a red t-shirt and black jeans. He knew the odds of Steve seeing his bottom half but he wanted to look nice all the way anyway.

When Steve answered the call and Eddie saw him fill the screen with a very respectable "first date" shirt, he imagined the bottoms were probably a good pair of jeans or maybe even khakis. Steve looked like a khaki guy. What Eddie did not expect was to be flashed when Steve got up in the middle of the movie to get a drink.

But he got up, giving Eddie an eyeful of a bulge in navy blue lace. And then Steve turned and Eddie got to see it from the back. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he had actually seen that. It had to be an illusi-and he was coming back and those were definitely panties that Steve was wearing.

"....Eddie?" Steve looked at his wide eyes. The man hadn't spoken for a full minute.

"Baby...are you wearing something naughty?"

Steve bit his lip. "I wasn't trying to be naughty. Robin just thought that I could...well, use the confidence?"

"Don't tell me a pretty thing like you is insecure, I won't believe it", Eddie smiled.

"Well those were Robin's thoughts, not mine." Steve turned the movie down a bit and it was clear Eddie and lowered the volume on his end too. "Do you like them?"

"My brain went to moon. I think you're trying to kill me."

Steve's already high confidence jumped to the ceiling. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Can I see them again?", Eddie asked.

"I thought they were fatal?", Steve smirked.

"You know, I've decided I've lived long enough. And if I have my choice of how I go, I choose death by Steve."

"Okay, but if I have a choice, I'm keeping you alive. But if you insiiiist." Steve had returned to his seat on the floor when he got back from the kitchen, and now he rose up to sit on the couch. His legs were crossed, blocking Eddie's view.

The man on his phone whined. "Don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but what if I like begging?"

"Please, please baby, pretty please, lemme see you?" Eddie's hands were pressed together in prayer.

The way he was positioned (in the phone, on the coffee table) it was like he was kneeling before Steve. Slowly, he uncrossed his legs and even spread them a little, smiling when he heard Eddie's intake of breath.

"Shit...Were you planning on showing me this tonight?"

"If you were good...maybe", Steve teased. "What do you think? Have you been a good boy?"

Eddie nodded frantically, hair flopping, jaw dropped as Steve shifted and he got to watch the bulge between his legs move. He would do anything. Beg, kneel, bark, whatever Steve wanted him to do. Fuck, if he was really there, his head would already be in between his legs.

"I bet you could crack my skull with those legs, Jesus."

From his vantage point, Eddie could only make out up to the bottom of his mouth and while he liked his current view, that just wouldn't do at all.

"I've got an idea...What do you say to moving this to the bedroom?"

Steve grabbed his phone and started walking. Eddie straight up sprinted and collapsed onto his bed.

"You're not going to have anyone burst in with a 'code red', are they?", Steve asked as he got onto his own bed, laying down and holding his phone to his face.

"I have blocked out the entire night for you, Stevie. My crew knows that all Code Reds are to be handled by my second in command."

Okay, that made him feel a little special. Steve bit his lip. "I've never really done anything like this before..."

"What? Taking a date to your bedroom? Once again, I won't believe it. You're probably beating them back with a stick." Eddie was literally looking at him. There was no way he didn't have a line of admirers going down the street.

"I meant on like...video. So how do you want me?"

"Well I typically get a burger with my shakes", Eddie waggled his brows.

"Eddie", Steve laughed.

"Wait, I can do better! Can I get a split-top bun, since you've got a whole bakery in the back?" Eddie beamed as the screen shook while Steve was laughing. "Just get comfortable, baby."

Steve did just that, lying on his back, holding his phone above his head. Eddie was in a similar position in his own bed.

"Okay, I think I've done the whole 'teacher is secretly a model' bit before but Christ alive, it's like you've got no bad angles."

"Eddie, I think you're stalling", Steve grinned. At first, he had been nervous about doing this over video, but now it seemed like Eddie was the one who was anxious.

"If I stall by complimenting you, is it really stalling?"

"If you were here...what would you do to me?", Steve asked.

"I would kiss you so hard, you'd pass out", Eddie admitted. "Full on Pepe LePew treatment. I'd start on your hand and make my way up and then I'm not letting those lips go until they're raw."

Steve brushed his fingers against his mouth. It had been a while since he'd been kissed like that, but Eddie wasn't done.

"And don't think I haven't noticed how those moles go all the way down. I think if I get started kissing them now, I can be to your thighs by Christmas."

Steve didn't miss the strong implication of Eddie's physical presence. They hadn't really talked about meeting in real life yet, both of them aware of how risky it could be to meet someone like that. But as time went on, the dangers seemed to melt away.

Steve's hand trailed down his body. He made sure to angle his phone so that Eddie could see just that. "God, I've thought about your hands so much..." His hand came back up to touch his lips.

"I can tell you want to, baby. Go ahead and suck on them. Pretend they're mine."

Permission granted, Steve stuck two in his mouth. Enraptured, Eddie started to paw at himself through his jeans. Steve's mouth was so pretty and it was already so wet. It didn't hurt that he was already moaning. God, he needed to find out where Steve lived and buy himself a plane ticket. He needed to get his hands on him yesterday.

"Mmm, and you know, once my fingers are nice and wet, I like to put them elsewhere. Where do you want me to touch?"

Slowly, Steve pulled them out of his mouth. "Everywhere", he said, lightly panting.

Eddie's canines showed as he smiled. He unzipped his pants, purposely making it as loud as he could so that Steve would know. "I'd like that too. But let's narrow it down, beautiful."

"How's about I show you?"

Eddie's eyes got wide as Steve changed positions and even moved some pillows around and now he had a front row seat to the most prime ass he'd ever seen. Steve was on his knees and bent over slowly. He pulled his panties to the side with one hand and pushed one of his glistening fingers inside.

"Aaahh, Eddie", he moaned, bringing the other man back into it.

"Fucking hell, look at you." Eddie used one hand to pushed the band of his boxers down and bring out his cock.

Steve pushed another into him, pressing his forehead against the bed. He didn't know what he'd been so anxious about. He wanted nothing more than to have Eddie looking at him. Eddie getting hard and jerking off while looking at him.

"Eddie...I need, I need you..."

Eddie spit in his hand and kept stroking. "Tell me, angel. What do you need me to do?"

Steve whined and Eddie watched as his ass shook, fingers sinking in deep before pulling them out and pushing in again. He bet anything if Steve turned around, he'd see a wet spot on those panties.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna tell you what to do. Is that okay?"

He saw Steve's head shake in what could've been a nod, but he was glad when he got the vocal confirmation. Eddie directed Steve and soon he had turned (Eddie had been right about the wet spot) so now he was facing the camera. The ass shot was hot but Eddie wanted to see his face when he came. He now also had a pillow under his hips to help with the angle.

And damn if he wasn't an absolute vision, rutting against the pillow, lips parted in a perpetual moan. Eddie had gotten some lube for his hand, but he knew his fist paled in comparison to Steve Harrington.

"Shit, I needa have you Steve. Wanna feel you, make you mine."

"I'm already yours", Steve said, making Eddie whimper. "I'm all yours, Eds, no one else's."

Apparently he was in a really possessive mood because that just put him right over the edge. This beautiful man was pleasuring himself and he only had eyes for Eddie. He made sure his cumshot was in the frame and watched as Steve's eyes glazed over. His licked his lips and bucked into his pillow, Eddie's name leaving his mouth on a sigh.

Eddie swallowed, his throat a little dry. "Can I see?"

Steve didn't need to ask what he meant. He picked up his phone and rose up on his knees, showing Eddie the tip of his cock peeking out of his panties, cum cooling on his stomach as his shirt had ridden up.

"Mmm, fuck. What's that rule in your classroom? About not wasting good food?"

"If you were here, I'd let you lick it all up", Steve said.

"Yeah, about that...can we...?"

"Talk? How do you feel about morning afters?", Steve asked.

"Usually they're pretty awkward", Eddie admitted with a shrug. "But considering I don't need to worry about you kicking me out..."

"Are you free for breakfast?"

"You mean brunch?"

Steve smiled. "It's a date then. Good night, Eddie."

"Good night, my darling."

Part 7

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #hurray i finally got to write pillow humping #one of my favorite things ever #next part should be the finale but dont hold me to that LOL

410 notes · View notes

vxiphoid · 10 months

Text

PIXELATED ZEN

❨ summary ❩ genshin › genshin men playing minecraft with you ((ft. alhaitham, itto, cyno, diluc, kazuha, kaeya, heizou, & xiao))

tags ✧ modern au, drabble, fluff, chaotic energy, not proofread, cursing, ooc(?), established relationship, gn!reader, kaeya sets a forest on fire, alhaitham does not appreciate bees, mentions of pixelated deaths

amanuensis’ message ⊹ IM NOT TRYING TO KILL MY OTHER FANDOMS I SWEAR… im gonna back up from twst for a bit (im literally posting scarabia soon.) you can clearly tell who my favorites are… this unlocked a whole different part of my brain holy shit im deceased

⌜200+ e/chara ⌟

♫ blossom - t. shan

genshin masterlist

ALHAITHAM

╰┈➤ tbh he thinks minecraft is stupid, i mean, why not read a book instead of burning the images of pixels into your eye sockets😒 yeah, he’d just rather books. its a game about blocks, what could possibly be so interesting? he will admit the music is… nice. its nostalgic even though he’s never heard the track before. his favorite animals are the axolotl idk they’re his little pookies. its their little stick arms, they look so silly… as soon as haitham found out that you could color things its over, he make some sweet things like putting a sign on top of your shared house with both initials with colored dye. he’s so happy, just not very vocal about it, but he has the smallest of smiles. he definitely has headphones with the crochet sprout on it omg😭 alhaitham does not like bees whatsoever, they stung him for trying to get food. he just wanted honey :[

“look, the dog’s collar is blue. and the sign’s letters are green and then if you add a glow squid’s ink, it lights up.”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

ARATAKI ITTO

╰┈➤ he has waited YEARS for someone to play minecraft with him omfg. certified snack hoarder for times like these. you both literally hit each other to show love, you’ve accidentally killed him once bc he didn’t tell you that he had like half a heart… itto likes the water, hates the guardians because who do you think you are attacking him out of nowhere??? gets one shotted by the elder guardian while trying to fight it with a stick and then blames it on magma blocks pulling him down. GAMING WITH HIM IS NEVER CALM GODS💀 you cannot lay on him or anything bc as soon as those cave sounds or disc 13 start playing, he’s already done sprung out of his seat. his screams are actually really funny though, you got him a cat from how much he’s been assaulted by creepers. when you introduced him to shaders, he was so in awe. “babe i have a shadow!” type of excitement JAKEJEJDMnda.

“the cat’s name is sir arataki the third, you are now my loyal guard cat. who’s an adorable little guy?”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

CYNO

╰┈➤ look at this nerd (affectionate), ofc he plays cubecraft. loved it so much that when he didn’t have the actual game, he would play the really bad knockoffs💀 plays on console so you can sit between his legs, lean back, and game with him. cyno hate the split screen because he always gets confused on what side he’s on so he lets you use his switch, that way you’re both still comfortable. he’s more of an explorer if you do get mod packs for him, likes the horror ones the most. there’s nothing like hitting the enemy or shit talking the thing that could potentially one shot you with your s/o‼️ yall crouch a lot, its like a little dance. he really likes the disc “far” it itches his brain in the right way. definitely downloads the little raccoon mobs but then regrets it because he gives up all his berries to them, look at their little begging arms, literally how can you say no to that?? AND THEY WASH THE BERRIES. you both fall asleep to the ambience and to each others breathing all cuddled up ‘n warm. cyno absentmindedly sings the music while chopping wood or mining that shit has you SLUMPED. he kisses your head when you fall asleep, smiling like a silly goober.

“do-do-do-do do-do-do-do do, neow neow neow nneow neeeowwww… huh? oh, i’m almost done then we can go to bed, yeah? i’ll charge the switch too, don’t worry. just rest.”

(he’s singing that one part in danny lmfao)

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

DILUC

╰┈➤ diluc does not understand the concept of minecraft but its okay, he’s just happy to be here. he also doesn’t call it minecraft but “cave game”, the original name, he did his research though it is rare that he actually calls it minecraft. found out that you could breed animals and accidentally made a pack of wolves. diluc is really good with redstone its actually insane😭 he’s the type to protect you the whole time while you’re getting flowers for the house, boyfriend bodyguard. diluc doesn’t play much because of his job but when he does, he’s prepared to sit for hours and spend time with you :(. these are the times where he’s most affectionate, randomly kissing your cheek, getting water for the both of you before you play, etc. luc loves the mod pack “industrial”, he can build machines, how neat is that??? also it has way more OMFP with the added features it has yk? he likes the trains :D

“is the water running…? the water’s running, they have moving windmills!”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

╰┈➤ kazuha has the most expensive equipment yet doesn’t use this shit half of the time unless he’s streaming with heizou??? like im talking msi infinite rs pc, multiple monitors, a graphic drawing tablet, headphones with immaculate sound quality AND!!! the ear cups have fucking cyberpunk 3d wing guards on them. but anyways, minecraft, yes, he plays. in fact, kaedehara has about 10 beaten hardcore worlds every time a new update comes out, he must beat the game again. he rarely plays minecraft without his shaders so when you want to play the original og minecraft, he doesn’t mind, he actually enjoys the nostalgia. so much so the music is actually his background music when he’s just lazing around. words cannot express how much he dislikes (hates) wardens omg. he’ll protect you from them but if there were diamonds behind a warden, ig he’s going somewhere else😭 kazuha gives you random shit, weather that be something really sweet or questionable…

“love, do you want my rotten flesh? here<3 oh! and, i also got you some steak, you’re low on hearts…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

KAEYA

╰┈➤ he’s heard of it, watched people play, just never played it. but when he does… he’s a menace. kaeya got his hands on flint and steel and set an entire jungle on fire… but he can be sweet sometimes! you’re the one protecting his ass while he walks around at night UNARMED to gather blue flowers for you. like you’re cute, but take a shield or something😭 he’s jumped off of a tall building before and landed on half a heart for a stack of bread you didn’t want. he’s rather oblivious to the mobs around him, he once thought shulkers were friends because they were just “silly little guys in little boxes” yk until they almost killed him. you bought him his own skin and introduced him to parrots and now its his favorite animal, he looks like a pirate!!! kaeya is chaotically sweet.

“yes, you almost died protecting me but how could you resist my everlasting love plus pixelated blue flowers?”

(has a cat unironically named ice spice LMFAO)

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

╰┈➤ your boyfriend is good at literally anything else BUT minecraft. its the way this game constantly has it out for him too like what did bro do??🙁 heizou stream’s with kazuha every now and again and on those, he still doesn’t know what to do… he’d rather play on the servers, bedwars in particular. extremely good at bw, you’d rather NOT be his enemy😭😭 wins almost every single game even when he carries, rank 98 in the server. yet when it comes to a casual server between you and him, the chats are filled with his deaths and his hashtagged rages💀 heizou despises silverfish which is also why he hates going into strongholds, they could get stomped on for all he cares! >:( he has texture packs with really beautiful skies and then a picnic mod so he can stargaze with you and eats minecraft cake :(<3

“oh. babe, green is heading for our bed, no pressure or anything. i loovveee youuu😚”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

XIAO

╰┈➤ xiao has the MOST downloaded mod packs, shaders, and worlds. not very expensive mod packs most of the time but when they are, they’re always good. spends his time fighting off mobs at night, #1 totem holder. he even has his own custom skin!!! he’s kinda been waiting for you to ask so when you do play mc together, you already have your own room, but when you voluntarily move your bed into his room to sleep… he melts. xiao loves cuddling while the two of you play, he’d rather your arms around him than the other way around, feels more intimate. you have matching hoodies for occasions like this. he has the dragon mod pack and has his own golden and orange dragon named ‘li’. he doesn’t talk while gaming, curses silently when he gets hit, but other than that doesn’t talk. if you want to talk, he’ll listen, he likes hearing about your day :].

“no, keep talking. i’m listening. see, li’s listening too.”

778 notes · View notes

alyssaforevermore · 3 months

Text

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part eight

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919 @moonmark98 @sarahbaker2010

Masterlist

You sat at the dining table the next morning, surrounded by your people but completely detached. You could hear sounds of laughter peek through here and there, but you were too lost in thought to make any sense of what was going on.

Shane and Rick had yet to join breakfast, and that was the only good thing on your mind. You didn’t know if you could face Rick after learning about Lori and Shane, and you weren’t sure you could stop yourself from attacking Shane when you saw him.

As if your mind had willed it, Rick appeared in front of you. He placed a hand on your shoulder in passing before making his way to Lori and kissing her on the cheek.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, sitting down beside Carl.

“Are you hungover?” Carl asked innocently. “Mom said you would be.”

“Mom is right.” Rick laughed.

“Mom has that annoying habit.” Lori smiled.

T-Dog appeared with a pan in hand. “Eggs. Powdered, but I do ‘em good.”

Glenn let out a groan, earning laughs from the group.

“I bet you can’t tell.” T-Dog continued. “Protein helps the hangover.”

Glenn groaned again, louder this time.

“Don’t ever let me drink again.”

Footsteps approached the table, causing you to look up. Shane walked slowly, his eyes fixed on Lori.

“Hey,” he spoke.

“Hey,” Rick smiled. “Feel as bad as I do?”

Shane poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting down at the table. “Worse.”

“What the hell happened to your neck?” T-Dog asked.

You eyed the scratches Lori had left there last night.

“I must’ve done it in my sleep.” Shane replied quietly.

“Never seen you do that before.” Rick responded.

“Me neither.” He looked at Lori. “Not like me at all.”

Lori kept her eyes on her food, ignoring Shane’s presence. You wished you could do the same. All you could feel was burning anger. Shane avoided meeting your gaze, probably expecting a confrontation if he dared look your way.

“Good morning.” Dr. Jenner spoke, entering the dining area.

“Hey, Doc.” Shane responded.

Dale stood for his seat, stepping over to the man. “Doctor, I don’t mean to slam you with questions first thing-”

“But you will anyway.” Dr. Jenner sighed.

“Look, we didn’t come here for the eggs, as nice as they are.” You spoke.

Dr. Jenner nodded. “I guess now is as good a time as any. Follow me.”

Everyone stood from their seats, following Dr. Jenner out of the room and down the hallway. You arrived at a lab, the lights powering on at his command.

“VI, give me a playback of TS-19.” He spoke.

“Playpack of TS-19.”

Dr. Jenner looked back at you all. “Few people ever got a chance to see this. Very few people.��

On the wall, a large display showed various 3-D views of a human skull.

“Is that a brain?” Carl asked excitedly.

“An extraordinary one.” Dr. Jenner hummed. “Not that it matters in the end. VI, take us in for E.I.V.”

“Enhanced internal view.”

The screen transitioned to a view of the person’s shoulders and up, moving into a horizontal view and zooming in to show more details. You could see the inside of this person’s skull, lit up with bright blue threads. Some areas were darker than others, but you could see these threads throughout the brain. They were pulsating.

“What are those lights?” Shane asked.

“It’s a person’s life—experiences, memories. It’s everything.” Dr. Jenner responded. “Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you—the thing that makes you unique and human.”

“You don’t make sense ever?” Daryl asked.

“Those are synapses. Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says or does or thinks from the moment of birth to the moment of death.”

“Death?” Rick asked. “That’s what this is, a vigil?”

“Yes. Or, rather the playback of the vigil.”

Andrea stepped closer. “This person died? Who were they?”

“Test subject 19. Someone who was bitten and infected… and volunteered to have us record the process. VI, Scan forward to the first event.”

“Scanning to the first event.”

You could now see that the brain’s lights were still flickering on the outside, but dark roots had begun taking over the inside.

“What is that?” You asked.

“It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs. Then death. Everything you ever were or ever will be… gone.”

Sophia looked up at Carol. “Is that what happened to Jim?”

Carol nodded.

You noticed a tear roll down Andrea’s cheek, something Dr. Jenner had picked up on as well.

“She lost somebody two days ago.” Lori explained. “Her sister.”

“I lost somebody too. I know how devastating it is.” Dr. Jenner nodded. “VI, scan to the second event.”

“Scanning to the second event.”

“The resurrection times vary wildly. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes.” Dr. Jenner explained. “The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute… seven seconds.”

A red glow began to flicker at the base of the brain, as the rest of it remained dark. Sparks shot out into larger areas of the brain.

“It restarts the brain?” Lori asked.

“Just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving.”

“But, they’re not alive?” Rick asked.

Dr. Jenner pointed to the monitor. “You tell me.”

“It’s nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark.”

“Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part—that doesn’t come back. The you part. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct.”

The subject on screen began to move, its mouth opening and closing as its head thrashed from side to side. Suddenly, the barrel of a gun appeared by the forehead and a bullet entered the brain. The red clusters slowly disappeared as the brain went dark and the subject stopped moving.

“God, what was that?” Carol whispered.

“He shot his patient in the head.” Andrea spoke. “Didn’t you?”

Dr. Jenner turned away, beginning to head for the door. “VI, power down the main screen and the workstations.”

“Powering down the main screen and workstations.”

“You have no idea what this is, do you?” Andrea pressed.

“It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal.”

“Or the wrath of God?” Jacqui asked.

“There is that.”

“Somebody must know something. Somebody somewhere.” Andrea spoke.

“There are others, right? Other facilities?” Carol inquired.

Dr. Jenner shrugged. “There may be some.”

“But you don’t know?” You asked. “How can you not know?”

“Everything went down. Communications, directives—all of it. I’ve been in the dark for almost a month.”

“So it’s not just here.” Andrea whispered. “There’s nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That’s what you’re really saying, right?”

Daryl shook his head. “Man, I’m gonna get shitfaced drunk again.”

“Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question,” Dale spoke. “But that clock—it’s counting down. What happens at zero?”

“The basement generators run out of fuel.”

“And then?” Rick asked.

Dr. Jenner ignored him, fully stepping out of the room.

“VI,” you started. “What happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur.”

You all exchanged glances, whispers erupting through your group. Whatever that meant, you knew it couldn’t be good.

“We have to go check.” Shane spoke.

“I’ll go with you.” Rick nodded. “Everyone else, back to your rooms.”

…

After sitting in your room for a while, the lights and air conditioning shut down. You peeked your head out the door, noticing the others slowly emerging from their own rooms.

“Why is the air off?” Carol asked.

“The lights are out too.” You commented.

“What’s going on?” Daryl asked, stepping out of his room with a whiskey bottle in hand. “What is everything turned off?”

Dr. Jenner walked by, grabbing the bottle from Daryl and taking a sip. “Energy use is being prioritized.”

“Air isn’t a priority? Lights?” Dale asked.

“I don’t make the rules. Zone five is shutting itself down.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

Dr. Jenner kept walking, ignoring your question.

“Hey,” Daryl yelled. “Answer her.”

You all followed him down the hall, into the main room once more.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” You shouted. “What do you mean it’s shutting itself down? How can a building even do that?”

“You’d be surprised.” Dr. Jenner responded coldly.

Rick and Shane came running towards your group.

“Jenner, what’s happening?” Rick asked.

“The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It’s designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark. Right on schedule.” Dr. Jenner took another sip from the bottle. “It was the French.”

“What?” Andrea asked.

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

“What happened?”

“The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane stepped forward. “Let me tell you–”

“To Hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care.” Rick spoke. “Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

An alarm began to sound, stopping you all in your tracks.

“Thirty minutes to decontamination.” VI spoke.

“Doc, what’s going on here?” Daryl asked.

Dr. Jenner once again ignored the question, scanning his badge and entering a code into a security pad.

“Y’all heard Rick.” Shane mumbled. “Get your stuff and let’s go. Now!”

As you all ran towards the door, it whirred to life, slowly closing in front of you.

“Did you just lock us in?” Glenn asked. “He just locked us in!”

Dr. Jenner sat down at a computer. “We’ve hit the thirty-minute window. I’m recording.”

“You son of a bitch!” You hissed, running towards him.

Before anyone could reach you, you grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his hand, smashing it on the floor. Daryl quickly joined you, trying to grab Dr. Jenner but being pulled away by Rick and Shane.

“Let me go!” Daryl screamed.

“Jenner, open that door now.” Rick spoke.

“There’s no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed.”

“Well, open the damn things.” Dale responded.

“That’s not something I control. The computers do.” Dr. Jenner spoke. “I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again. You heard me say that. It’s better this way.”

“What is?” Rick asked. “What happens in twenty-eight minutes?”

Dr. Jenner typed on the computer.

“What the hell happens in twenty-eight minutes?” You pressed.

Dr. Jenner stood from his seat, shouting. “Do you know what this place is?! We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!” Everyone stared at the man as he regained his composure, sitting back down. “In the event of a catastrophic power failure—in a terrorist attack, for example—H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out.”

“H.I.T.s?” You asked.

“VI, define.”

“H.I.T.s—high-impulse thermo baric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 degrees and 6,000 degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired.”

“It sets the air on fire.” Dr. Jenner spoke. “No pain.”

Carl and Sophia erupted into tears, clinging onto their mothers.

“An end to sorrow, grief…regret. Everything.”

You clenched your fists, stepping towards the man once more. “Open the door right now.”

Shane grabbed a fire ax that was leaning against one of the desks, running at the door and beginning to hit it. Daryl grabbed the other, joining him.

“You should’ve left well enough alone. It would have been so much easier.”

“Easier for who?” Lori spat.

“All of you. You know what’s out there. A short brutal life and an agonizing death.” Dr. Jenner turned to Andrea. “Your—your sister—what was her name?”

“Amy.”

“Amy. You know what this does. You’ve seen it.” Dr. Jenner looked at Rick. “Is that what you really want for your wife and son? Your sister?”

“I don’t want this!” Rick snapped.

Shane walked back to the group. “We can’t make a dent.”

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher.”

“Well, your head ain’t!” Daryl yelled, swinging his ax at Jenner.

Dale, Rick and Shane held him back.

“You do want this.” Dr. Jenner spoke to Rick. “Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead.”

You looked at your brother, face pale. “You said what?”

Shane shook his head. “After all your big talk, you really said that?”

Rick looked between you and Lori, his face soft. “I had to keep hope alive, didn’t I?”

“There is no hope.” Dr. Jenner spoke. “There never was.”

“There’s always hope.” Rick responded. “Maybe it won’t be you, maybe not here but somebody somewhere—”

“What part of ‘everything is gone’ do you not understand?” Andrea asked.

“Listen to your friend. She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event.”

“This isn’t right.” Carol shook her head, now crying as well. “You can’t just keep us here!”

“One tiny moment—a millisecond. No pain.”

“My daughter doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Wouldn’t it be kinder, more compassionate just to hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?”

Shane grabbed a shotgun, cocking it and aiming it at the man’s head.

“Shane, stop it!” Rick commanded.

“Out of the way, Rick!” Shane snapped, his eyes locked on Dr. Jenner. “Open that door or I’m gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?”

“Brother, brother, this is not the way you do this. We will never get out of here.”

“Shane, please listen to him.” Lori pleaded.

“It’s too late.”

“If he dies, we all–”

Shane let out a scream, shifting his gun to the computer and beginning to shoot off rounds. Rick screamed his name, wrestling the gun out of his hands. Shane fell to the floor.

“Are you done now?” Rick asked, panting. “Are you done?”

Shane caught his breath, standing back up. “Yeah, I guess we all are.”

Rick turned to Dr. Jenner. “I think you’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re lying about no hope. If that were true, you’d have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn’t. You chose the hard path. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dr. Jenner whispered.

“It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?”

“I made a promise.” He responded, pointing to the screen. “To her. My wife.”

“TS-19 was your wife?” Lori asked.

“She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?” Dr. Jenner asked. “She was dying. It should’ve been me on that table. I wouldn’t have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field she was an Einstein. Me? I’m just… Edwin Jenner. She could’ve done something about this. Not me.”

Rick shook his head. “Your wife didn’t have a choice. You do. That’s—that’s all we want—a choice, a chance.”

“Let us keep trying as long as we can.” Lori spoke.

Dr. Jenner was silent for a moment. “I told you, the topside is locked down. I can’t open those.”

He walked over to the security pad he’d used earlier, typing in a code. Suddenly, the door slowly opened once more.

“Come on!” Daryl screamed, waving everyone over.

As everyone began to run towards the door, you stood still, paralyzed. Rick looked back, noticing that you hadn’t moved.

“Y/N, we have to go now.” He spoke.

You shook your head. “I-I can’t.”

Rick signaled for Lori and Carl to go with the others before heading back over to you. “We don’t have time for this. I need you to come with me. Please.”

“You said you knew we were all going to die.” You choked out. “What if you’re right? I don’t want to die out there. Not the way everyone dies now.”

“I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Rick frowned. “What did you say back in the city?”

“What?”

“Back in the city, you said we needed to stick together. That’s the way we get things done.” Rick spoke. “That’s still true. If we’re together, we will make it. We will survive. Please, don’t do this.”

You looked off to the side, noticing that Jacqui was sitting with Dr. Jenner. Andrea sat on the floor, with Dale across from her, pleading for her to go with him.

It wasn’t like you wanted to die; you wanted nothing more than to live a long, happy life with the people you loved. You were just scared, now more than ever. What if Dr. Jenner was right? Would you regret not staying?

“Please.” Rick begged once more.

Your thoughts drifted to your nephew and suddenly, you knew you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t do that to him.

You nodded vigorously, wiping your eyes. “Okay.”

Rick smiled softly, pulling you out of the room. When you arrived at the main entrance, everyone was scrambling to break through the glass windows to escape.

“Man, we’ve tried everything.” Daryl spoke.

“Wait,” Carol mumbled, reaching into her bag. “Rick, I have something that might help.”

“Carol, I don’t think a nail file’s gonna do it.”

“Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform I found this in your pocket.” Carol pulled out a hand grenade.

Rick looked at it, then back up at her before grabbing it from her hand. “Everyone, get back!”

Everyone took cover, peeking over at Rick as he removed the pin and placed the grenade on the window sill. He stepped back, running away as quickly as his legs would take him.

The grenade exploded, sending Rick flying through the air as the glass shattered behind him. Everyone wasted no time, standing up and running towards their only exit.

Walkers surrounded the building, you all knocking them down as you raced towards your cars. Nobody spoke, too focused on making it as far away from the building as possible.

You made your way inside Dale’s RV, rushing to the window to watch for him. Praying that even if Andrea stayed, he wouldn’t. As your hope was beginning to run out, the pair appeared in the window of the building, climbing out to freedom. Rick honked his horn in the car behind you, screaming for the two to get down.

Dale and Andrea climbed behind some sand bags in the grass, just before a loud explosion went off. You watched as the building collapsed in a fiery blaze, swallowing all the walkers close by. Nearby cars and trucks exploded as well.

As the explosion died down, Dale and Andrea stood back up, running towards the RV.

“Get in!” Glenn spoke, opening the door for them.

The two nearly fell into the RV, both panting loudly. Dale reached for Andrea, but she pushed his hand away, crawling further inside.

With no real plan of what to do next, Dale climbed in the driver's seat and began down the road you’d come from just yesterday. You continued to stare at what used to be the CDC, a thick cloud of black smoke filling the Atlanta sky.

If you had stayed, you’d be dead right now. You wouldn’t have to worry about where you’d land next. You wouldn’t have to worry about where you’d get your next meal, or when you’d finally be able to sleep again.

Regret started to settle in as you watched the remains of the CDC slowly disappear behind you.

----

AN: There we have it, the finale of season one! I honestly can't believe we're here already. I really hope you enjoyed this season and are excited for the future of this series. I've tried to set up a few different things moving into season two. There might be a mini break between seasons, but I will be working away on writing in the mean time. If you enjoyed, please remember to like/reblog <3

#daryl dixon; unearthed #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader

37 notes · View notes

topguncortez · 7 months

Text

Left a Scar on My Heart || whumptober day 12 - B. Bradshaw

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: in the wake of a tragic death, everyone deals with their grief differently. You thought you'd be able to handle it, but you weren't strong enough.

word count: 3.0k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: self harm, character death

warnings: suicide, mentions of self harm, details about character death, character death, unhealthy coping mechanism, grief

It wasn’t planned. It was heartbreaking and tragic. But how could you ever plan the death of a young person? One minute their heart was beating, pumping warm oxygenated blood through their body. And the next, they were cold, laying in a funeral home basement. There wasn’t any way anyone could prepare for what happened, not your brother, not your squadron, or even the man you loved. You didn’t realize how much you were leaving behind, you could only think of wanting to be in a better place.

Your last mission had left you with more than just a dead wingman. Maverick had given you the Bobe speech he had given Rooster after Phoenix and Bob’s bird strike. You knew that these kinds of things could happen if you flew long enough, but you never wanted it to happen to you. You couldn’t get the sound of your wingman, Chipper’s voice out of your head as he told you to tell his wife he was sorry and to give his child a hug. You couldn’t escape the sounds of bullets hitting your jet and flares tearing apart your wingman’s jet. Every time you close your eyes the image of his jet crashing into the deep blue ocean, taking his body down with it.

Bradley had been at work when he got a strange text from you. You were on leave, for the time being, waiting for a clear mental eval from behavioral health. Bradley agreed that it was for the best that you were taking time away from the squad. Everyone took Chipper’s death hard. The aviator community was small, and everyone knew everyone somehow.

“I’m so sorry, Bradley.”

The message read. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read it over and over, trying to rack his brain on why you would be apologizing. You hadn’t been the nicest to him lately, snapping at him for small things, but he summed that up to you going through the grieving process. Bradley shook his head and started typing back a message to you, telling you that there was nothing to be sorry for, when Jake’s contact photo showed up on the screen. More confusion filled Bradley as he swiped to answer the call.

“Hey, what’s-”

“You need to get here,” Jake said. Bradley could hear the sound of sirens in the background. He stood up abruptly from his desk, not even bothering to grab his bag, taking his keys only.

“What’s going on?” Bradley asked as he jogged out to his car.

“Y/N, she. . . ” Jake’s voice cracked, “She texted me as I was on my way over, and I. . . I found her in the bathtub. . . she slit her wrists, man.”

Bradley halted in the middle of the hallway, Jake’s words registering in his head. He felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest, as his knees began to weaken. Bradley tried to force air into his lungs, as the phone fell from his hand and went crashing to the ground.

“Rooster?” Maverick asked, stepping out of his office as he heard the crashing sound. Bradley lifted his head and looked up at his uncle. Maverick moved quickly as the color drained from Bradley’s face. He barely reached him in time as Bradley’s legs gave out and he went crashing to the ground.

— — —

The news of your death had traveled fast around the aviator world. Everyone took it differently, but Bob took it hard. He hadn’t really been around death. Sure, he grew up on a farm and understood the circle of life. But this was different. You didn’t peacefully die in your sleep with your loved ones around you. You decided to take your own life in a traumatic way.

Bob had seen you two days prior, and he kept trying to reply it, if there were any signs of what were to happen 48 hours later. Bob was angry, angry at the world for being unfair, angry at the birds chirping outside his window, angry that the sun was shining every day, but most importantly angry at you.

He didn’t think he could cry so much, but he felt like he had cried half his body weight out. Bob, in his anger, had deleted all the photos that he had of you on his phone and anything around his barracks room that could remind him of you. If you wanted to erase yourself from the earth, then he was going to erase yourself from his life. Bob would snap at anyone who mentioned your name or any memory of you.

Why should they be telling happy stories and memories from flight school or mission when you weren’t happy? His anger bubbled over when he first got to see you. Your parents had invited some of the Dagger Squad to view your body before the visitation and funeral. Bob looked at you, lying peacefully in the dark brown casket, and cursed you.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Hm? Why do we all get to suffer and you get to just… leave? Your brother found you. Jake found you in the bathtub, and he hasn’t stopped drinking himself into god damn oblivion since. You have always been selfish, and this really just fucking proves it.”

Bob could barely remember your funeral. It wasn’t because he was drunk like Jake was, it was simply from being in pain. The human body is designed to forget pain, and that’s exactly what he was doing. It felt like a blur, one minute he was picking up a flower arrangement that was knocked over, and the next he was helping carry your casket to your gravesite. He had to hold himself back from all but chucking the clump of dirt at your casket in the ground. He had drunk himself into oblivion that night, he didn’t even remember getting into a fight with Jake or punching the hole in Natasha’s wall until the next morning.

It took Bob almost a whole year to come to terms with your death. He had enrolled in anger management and therapy with the help and encouragement of Natasha and Bradley, who were tired of having to order Bob new plates and glasses. He hadn’t apologized for what he said until the first anniversary of your death, and he stood face to face with the black granite stone that was erected over where your body lay. He ran his hand over the smooth, cool, rock and cried.

“I’m so sorry for what I said,” He cried, “I get it now, and you felt like there was no way out. I forgive you, Y/N. I hope you can forgive me. I’ll see you when I get there.”

— — —

Natasha tried her best to keep it together. She felt like if she didn’t hold herself together, everyone around her would fall apart. She’s always felt like she had to hold the group together, one of the main ones who coordinates all the holiday get togethers and makes dinner reservations for “fancy dinner night” (as Fanboy calls it) once a month. To her, you were like the younger sister she never had but always wanted. The news of your death shook Natasha to her core, but she couldn’t let anyone see it.

Javy was the one who told her, having answered Jake’s phone call while she was napping. He had broken down in the kitchen hearing the words leave Jake’s lips. He had gone up to the bedroom and shook Natasha awake slowly. Her first words to him, seeing his bloodshot eyes were,

“Who died?”

When Javy tearfully said your name, all he could do was pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Natasha had taken on the task of going to tell Bob, Jake was trying to get ahold of him, but he wasn’t answering. Natasha held her best friend off the ground as Bob sobbed. Natasha couldn’t let him see her break down. Bob was barely holding it together, Natasha had witnessed his anger firsthand when she mentioned going to see your body. Bob had punched a hole into the wall, and all Natasha did was apologize for mentioning anything. She was quiet during the first viewing as your parents had encouraged them to tell stories about you. Jake, being the talkative one he is, told stories and the group shared a few laughs, but it was hard to find happiness during a time like this. Javy was worried about her, wishing that she would do something; cry, scream, drink. But Natasha pushed down her feelings.

Natasha held Javy during your funeral. Javy had also seen you like a little sister, having been around Jake for so long. Javy had told Natasha countless times that it was okay if she cried, or screamed, or punched holes in his walls like Bob, but she shook her head and said she was okay.

It wasn’t until the end of your funeral, standing over the closed casket, watching it get lowered to the ground that it really started to hit her. Natasha didn’t say anything as she looked at the hole in the ground where your body lay, white roses and clumps of dirt thrown on top of the casket, and tears started escaping her eyes.

“I should… I should’ve brought her blanket,” Natasha said and Javy choked back a sob, “She left it at my house after the last movie night we had. She’s scared of the dark, she hates it. She also hates being cold. And that blanket…” Natasha could picture the wool and fleece blanket that was folded up over the back of her couch, “It was like being in a sauna, she had it everywhere she went. She was like Linus from Snoopy with that thing,”

“I know,” Javy said rubbing her arm.

“She’s cold,” Natasha said looking at him, her brown eyes wet with tears, “She’s cold and in the dark, and that stupid fucking blanket-“

Javy held his girlfriend and rubbed her back as sobs racked through her body and she kept mumbling about your blanket. When they finally got home, Javy laid her down on the couch. Natasha gingerly grabbed the blanket off the couch and cuddled up with it, your scent still lingering on it.

— — —

Jake was drunk, again.

This was how he spent most of his Wednesday nights now. On Wednesdays, you used to beg him to watch the Bachelor and drink wine. He would never admit it, but he loved the stupid reality show as much as you did and would always vote against your favorite. But now, he couldn’t bring himself to turn on the TV. He sat in the silence of his living room, drinking down your favorite wine.

When he got that text from you, he was just getting in his car to go check on you. The whole dagger squad had set up a schedule to make sure you weren’t alone all day every day. But Jake was running late to get to your house. He had sent you a text telling you that he was getting lunch for the two of you and he’d be right over. But then he got that text.

“You have always been my protector, Jake. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

He broke pretty much all traffic laws to get to you before it was too late. Your front door was unlocked as Jake barged right in, yelling your name. He could hear the water running from the bathroom as he ran down the hallway. He had to break down the bathroom door and he was met with a puddle of pink water and your body in the bathtub.

“Oh Y/N,” Jake cried as he rushed to you. He turned the water off and gently ran his hand over your wet hair. He knew better than to mess with a crime scene, but all he wanted to do was pull your body out of the water and hold you.

After Jake called 9-1-1, he called Bradley, telling him to come over. As the police and corner were doing their invstigation, Jake grabbed a bottle of scotch from your liquor cabinet and took a seat on your front porch. He had stayed there until Bradley and Maverick arrived later.

“You just missed her body,” Jake slurred, “They’re trying to dry up all the water now.”

Jake couldn’t remember the last time he was sober since that day he found you. He was even drunk, having to have Rooster drive him to the airport to pick up his parents. Rooster had tried to tell Jake to slow down with the drinking but it resulting in a yelling match between them in the parking lot of the funeral home.

When Jake showed up to your funeral, dressed in all black with sunglasses covering his drunken eyes, Bob rolled his eyes as he slugged into the church. At least his uniform was all squared away and he managed to get a shave and a haircut before showing up. According to Natasha, he was starting to look a little homeless. Jake lazily stood next to his parents, swaying slightly as he greeted people. Bradley grabbed him by his ear and dragged him away from the family.

“Are you serious? You’re drunk?” Bradley said, seething.

“Well done, Columbo,” Jake said as he stumbled over a flower arrangement. It fell to the ground with a clank and all eyes snapped to him. Natasha apologized as Bob bent down to pick it up, “Y/N would’ve thought it was funny. She was the one who was cracking jokes at these things, anyway.”

“The hell is wrong with you?” Natasha asked.

“Well shit Nix, let me start with the fact that my baby sister slit her wrists in a bath tub,” Jake said loudly.

“Shut up,” Bradley seethed, “Clean yourself up.”

Jake just shrugged and pulled out the black flask you had gotten him for his birthday and took a drink of whiskey.

— — —

Bradley hadn’t cried. He didn’t think he could. Much like Natasha, he was busy keeping Jake from alcohol poisoning and Bob from breaking all the plates in his house. He was on the verge of crying when he showed up at your house to confirm the words fell from Jake’s lips. You and Bradley had been together for over two years, and he had planned on proposing to you in a couple of weeks.

Bradley had helped your parents get flights out to North Island as soon as they could. It was supposed to be Jake who went and picked them up, but he was in shape to drive. Your mother’s face had dried tear streaks and your father’s eyes were red. Bradley offered to let them stay at his house so they didn’t have to be in the last place their daughter was alive.

Your mother felt lost, not sure where to begin to plan a funeral for you. Bradley had assured her that the Navy was taking care of most of it and all she had to do was decide on what photos to use for the slide show. Bradley made sure that your parents were eating proper meals and Jake wasn’t killing himself with alcohol.

The second time Bradley thought he was going to cry was when your mom asked him to grab your uniform from your room. She couldn’t bring herself to go in there, so Bradley did. It was just like you had left it, your bed was haphazardly made, and your shoes were kicked off in random spots by the door. Your laptop was open, and your clothes were spilling out of your dresser drawer. It looked like you had just left for the day and were planning on coming back. The only thing was it felt cold, like a frozen time capsule. Bradley shook his head and opened your closet, finding your dress blues. His eyes also fell onto the green bomber jacket he had sworn he lost on deployment. He felt heat rise in his eyes as he ran his fingers over the stitching on the inside of the jacket: ‘Lt Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw’

Bradley stood strong during your funeral. Your brother was a mess, showing up smelling like a bar room floor. Bob disassociated the whole funeral, not saying a single thing to anyone, and Natasha was holding Javy. When your mother got up to speak, visibly shaking, Bradley moved from his seat and stood next to her. He put his hand on her back and she handed him the speech. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at the full church and then at the smiling portrait of you.

“I’m not much of a writer, I left that up to Y/N,” He read your mother’s scribbled words, “But, I’m going to try my best.”

Jake watched from the car as Bradley hugged your parents after the luncheon following your burial. He admired Bradley’s strength and wish he could be there for his parents like he had. He had yet to see him break, and that was cause Bradley had yet to break. That night they all had spent the night drinking at Bradley’s house. Countless stories of how you had gotten them out of trouble, or into less trouble were shared. As the night dwindled down, Jake had asked the man who was going to be his brother-in-law:

“You cry yet?”

Bradley sighed and shook his head, “I’m scared if I start… I won’t ever stop.”

Jake agreed and opened the fridge. He at first grabbed a beer, but placed it back and grabbed a water instead. He said goodnight to his friend and headed into one of the guest rooms. Bradley finished wiping down the kitchen table and then trudged down to his bedroom. He stripped out of his dress blues he was wearing and his eyes fell onto a box that wasn’t on his bed this morning. He looked around his room and then walked over to the box, that was wrapped in your favorite wrapping paper with a big pastel yellow bow on it. A handwritten note laid on top of some tissue paper. He opened the card, and in your handwriting it read:

‘Please, return to Bradley’

Bradley tore the tissue paper open and sucked in a deep breath looking at the bomber jacket. He gingerly pulled it out and sniffed it, and it still smelled like your perfume. Bradley’s eyes clouded with tears and he sat down on the couch. He pulled it into his chest, burying his face in it, and cried.

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

125 notes · View notes

comfortfoodcontent · 2 months

Text

2024 X-Men #35 cover by Pepe Larraz

2019-2024 - RIP Krakoa Era X-Men

I love this cover. The art is amazing. It marks the end of the Krakoa era X-Men. It's been on my mind a lot lately and I had to get some thoughts out on it. If you know me, if you ever followed me or my comics site or whatever, you know I was a very loud, very big fan of the Krakoa era at the start, basically up until X of Swords and Hickman's decision to leave. It's finally ending.

2019-2024 - RIP Krakoa Era X-Men

But truthfully it may as well be 2019-2019 -RIP Krakoa Era X-Men. It pretty much failed from the start. I loved HoxPox when it dropped. It was, embarrassing to say now, life changing for me. I thought Hickman was a genius and had found a way to reinvigorate the line and render death as a cheap storytelling gimmick useless. A bunch of my faves were being used and ressurected. I was happier than a pig in shit. I joined Twitter and all the insane X-Fans on there. I started a website and a podcast dedicated to comics. Soon the Covid pandemic started. I was terminally online, my brain rot started and grew worse by the day. It was an insane wild ride that started high and died soon thereafter.

It's hard for me to separate my pretentious Comfort Food Comic media brand time with the pretentious Krakoan Era. Both started out so happily, so full of potential and optimism. To run a site or a podcast in these hellish times you must also play the social media game. Constantly be on there, constantly push your product. Being on Twitter during that time and being part of the X-Community, you start to see how much being on social media fucks you up. You constantly feel like you need to have an opinion on everything, and that it actually matters. You need to be a critic to every piece of media, every decision, every little thing someone says or posts. You lose your grasp on reality, the real world, how to function and interact like a normal human being not stuck hidden behind a screen with your dual public twitter profile and private locked one (something I'm glad to say I never stooped to). It brings you attention. It brings you friends. It pushes your product or brand. It gives you validation and the dopamine rush. It's an addicting, disgusting, fake as hell experience. I was fully caught up in it. It didn't help that I was quarantining and barely leaving my house for a few years. It got me through the pandemic but it also left me so much worse than when I started. Much like how the Krakoan Era treated the X-Men franchise.

Why am I talking about social media so much when I started with X-Men? Well, it felt like this era of publishing went hand in hand with what was being put into the comics. Every creator was constantly on Twitter interacting with fans, always seeing what they had to say. Even Hickman was on there. Dude just wanted to post photos from movies and talk about like what Gen X members he liked. He eventually left because insane X-Men fans wanted him to talk about George Floyd and compare real world race issues with some superhero comics and weigh in, OH GOD WHY ISNT HE WEIGHING IN PUBLICALLY??. It was really weird how fans dealt with that one. Vita Ayala, Tini Howard, Leah Williams - constantly interacting with fans, friends with many of them. A pretty cool thing really, but that shit started influencing their comics throwing in characters or scenes specifically to make some X-Men fan they know on Twitter squee real loud. Shatterstar is not your favorite AEW wrestler. We do not need a book of human X-Men fans who pretend to be mutants influenced by dorky X-Men fans online. We do not need longtime villain Apocalypse to become our "Blue Dad". Jordan White should be editing or at the very least reading any old X-Men comics instead of being on Twitter. We don't need to know what the X-Writers do on their Slack, or worse, what X-fans do on their own incestuous Slack. Gerry Duggan, a writer I loved and thought could do no wrong, joined this group and upped his Twitter usage and the brain rot commenced and his work was so influenced by it. I'll never forget when white people started using fuck around and find out on Twitter and then it was in like 3 of his books the next month. My point in this ramble is the books were being influenced by and written for the loudest X-Men fans on Twitter. The art was dead. The books were a product made in that echo chamber for that echo chamber. They got bad real fast because of our society's addiction to social media these days.

Now that the honeymoon phase is over and I've revisited a lot of these books I do still feel HoXPoX was a wonderful series, one of the best X-Men series, masterfully executed and a perfect jumping off point with so much to explore. I also see the usual Hickman faults. The my series starts some time later, not really addressing anything prior to it that all his books share, the insanely detailed long term plans that he nor the comics business machine will actually follow through on after a year or so, and the shadowy superior group of power that exists in all of his comics. The Moira retcon, while brilliant, quickly falls apart when they never develop her further, or deal with the fact Xavier and Magneto went on to have an entire publishing history knowing what amounts to their entire future until the Krakoa Age must be established. That never really worked and was ignored by the creators and fans alike, including me. So it never really worked from the jump.

Rather than keep the line condensed and maybe just let Hickman write his own story, they expand it out from there involving a bunch of different creators and new ongoings. Plenty of series to explore the ramifications of these retcons, the perceived ethnostate the mutants have established and their abandoning of the coexistent dream the X-Men always fought for, grappling with identity and what it means when death no longer matters, and the conflicts that would arise from having all these villains live with them now. Sadly we instead basically just got Utopia 2.0. Surface level shit where the mutants are on an island surviving that rarely ever went in on all the amazing story ideas we could have explored. But hey certain fans were happy because they could go "Hey Synch is here for a few panels!" or "this horrific out of character gladiator death ceremony is TOTALLY the same thing as my real life transitional phase". Nobody really wanted to question any of this in the comics or in real life. And hey sour grapes aside, we did get some cool stories and some fun character interactions and moments, mostly in the Hickman books. But even from the start, some of it is horrible, more of the same schlock - Fallen Angels a great example, or Hickman's more boring Giant Size issues or his Shi'ar issue, or half of every other title. What should have been being explored or dealt with in the text often went ignored and we got X-Men being superheroes or Otherworld nonsense, which at the time I ate up because I'm such a fan of the old Captain Britain material. Sadly that never really went anywhere either, just making nebulous dimensions that were out there somewhere, don't question it LOOK IT'S JIM JASPERS! ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED! Even things that should have been celebrated like Betsy and Rachel pushing through Gal Pals territory to being together felt largely flat and hollow and forced rather than natural or fun. And that was a common theme as it kept going. Everything felt forced, felt wrong, the writing felt amateurish and simple as it ignored more major issues or reasons to exist. Things just seemed to start happening for no real story reasons. No real further development or exploration. A ton of plots don't make sense as established history and characterization is thrown out the window. Nothing really matters. Rockslide is ruined forever just because. Arrako will never REALLY make sense, Loa and Mercury are psychopathic sex fiends, Pixie of all people is a callous death pervert, Banshee is a Ghost Rider, Warlock's doing something, Colossus joins the Quiet Council and just sits there, Children of the Atom is designated a "red" important book and does nothing of value or import, Moira gets pissy so she turns into a no shades of gray villain robot who skins her soul mate and wears his skin and joins Orchis, mutants are fucking so much and I guess just quickly going to term and they just abandon countless babies in the forest, Anole and a few others are brainless dolts who love the Shadow King, Onslaught is bouncing around, there's an old X-23, Synch is now the best and can recall any power ever magically but never talks to any member of his old team or deals with his death, Inferno as a whole essentially just didn't happen or matter, Sinister isn't Sinister at all he's a clone and there's 3 more of them, Casandra Nova is on a team, Doug knows secrets, Magneto buys a lighthouse, characters are randomly and indiscriminately put into The Pit, Shaw and Selene are maybe the only two villains ever that get examined in a way where maybe they shouldn't be buddy buddy with the X-Men - I need to stop now before I get more angry and depressed but I could go on and on and on. Point is things got bad. Like a ton of this was just bad writing and bad comics. I'm sorry. I get it. I was blinded too. I ignored things. I made my own head canons. I focused on the good stuff.

By the time Hickman actually announces he is leaving, things are already falling apart due to him and Marvel deciding to expand and stretch this shit out instead of just letting him do his shit and end it as a complete story or era. He does Inferno which as I said did nothing and didn't matter. It's good but it's a big ball of nothing. From there the books get worse and worse. Duggan's superhero X-Men book is fluff. Nearly every other series declines more and more. Hellions is a fun dark comedy, but sloppy and lacking that depth and exploration. Al Ewing's work tries hard to reach those Hickman highs and I found myself quite enjoying his work on SWORD and later on X-Men Red but mainly because it all ends up divorced from Krakoa as part of his larger Marvel Cosmic work, with great characterization. I really dig that work and it's common theme is really how off to the side not involved it is.

Later writers, including some real Literal Whos? and pretentious "novel authors" further dilute the line with their less talented work(I like Steve Orlando as a person but I desperately wish he'd try harder to write actual stories instead of being a human youtube video that summarizes obscure 90's comic characters for modern day zoomers). Kieron Gillen, bless him, tries to be the new Hickman and he does have some of the best Krakoa era material, but even he starts failing pretty badly. Sins of Sinister was a clusterfuck of boring nonsense for people who want to seem or sound smart, same goes for this current Dominion plot.

Looking at the art now I'm struck by how none of these characters are TRULY changed from this era, let alone had a lasting or defining story. It's crazy to me we went 5 whole years with this and really what has changed, ESPECIALLY with the current Orchis wrap-up story. X-Men fight some nasty humans who don't like them. We're back to that ALREADY. We aren't getting to the end of the Krakoan Era, we've been in it for quite some time. As I look at this art I see only 3 wholly new characters, which they'll be lucky if they are used after this. One of them is Pogg-Ur Pogg, a perfect example of this era. A big Aligator man, not much thought behind it, that fans LOVED. Sadly, he wasn't actually an alligator man. It was all a fakeout. That was some suit a little boring gremlin wore. A little boring gremlin. Nothing unique, nothing fun. Same old shit you've seen in thousands of comics. That's what the Krakoa Era was. Something that seemed SO DAMN COOL, SO DAMN THOUGHT OUT, but really it didn't have much thought behind it. It was a flashy suit of potential hiding the same old gremlin you've always seen. Even after the eternally online creators saw how popular he got, they didn't change any of this, they just thought we've got it. The suit/gremlin thing is good. It wasn't and they tried to bring it back for further stories but it was so lame at this point it was pathetic. Much like the repeated attempts to salvage and course correct after Hickman.

So here we are at the end. I can't believe I'm actually THANKFUL it is ending. That I actually want to regress and return to the X-Men as superheroes fighting their villains again. I've been rereading old X-books and I crave that big, bold excitement of what truly made the X-Men superhero team work. It's such a bummer and such a failure of execution with so many to blame. What DISGUSTS me so much is already seeing fans eulogize this era as perfection that was cut short by Marvel and not a fun experiment that was botched from the start. I'm with you, I was the biggest believer and supporter at the start. I joined Twitter, I examined every panel, made countless threads of discussion, debated and discussed every little thing with fellow fans. I wanted so much for this to be what it could be. Please, examine it honestly and critically. It's a failure. It's time to pull the plug.

It's ironic to me that I deleted my Twitter this year, the Krakoan age having the same amount of life my Twitter fandom life did. It went from such excitement and fun to soul sucking everyday nonsense. It seems fitting and emblematic of what this age was and turned into. This era, just like Twitter which influenced it so much, is/was a stupid, ugly, brain rotted mess dotted with sparing gold with the unrealized potential for so much more. I for one, welcome it.

Peace Out Krakoa Era, you won't be missed.

#krakoa #krakoa era #x-men #mutants #me #my writing #writing #comics #comic books #marvel #marvel comics #pepe larraz

33 notes · View notes

just-my-type-x · 2 years

Text

Everything I Didn't Say

This isn't a request, but i needed to let some things off my chest and i thought this could help. I hope u'll still enjoy it. I'm still not coming back for a week or so, so I'll let u with this for now

Pic not mine

You've reached Colby Brock, please leave a message after the beep cuz I'm probably hunting some ghosts now and I'll get back to you beep

I take a deep breath and my hamd shakes on the phone.

"Hey, Colby. It's been a while. I don't know if you still know me. I'm y/n y/l/n, we used to be friends a while back.", i chuckle, my voice shaky because of the emotion. "I know it's weird calling you out of the blue... I don't know why I'm doing this because i will never actually let this voice message to come through. I guess i just needed to get it off my chest.", i sigh and look at the seconds of the voice message turning into one minute. I have two more minutes until the voice message gets automatically sent.

"You're probably asking yourself why is this girl calling you, she doesn't know either, she just felt the need to let you know that she's madly in love with you. I've been supporting you, guys, for such a long time now, watching every video and I'm so sorry we've lost touch over the past few years. Everything seemed nice, i don't know what happened.. " i take another deep breath." Colby, i just want to tell you that i miss seeing your face, i miss our stupid conversations about every possible thing, i miss your hugs that you suddenly stopped giving me, your smile brightening your face whenever you saw me. Silly me still thinks you liked me, ha ha", i laugh bitterly, a tear forming in the corner of my eye. "i still remember when we met in High school and you saw me on the hallway. You couldn't stop looking at me while passing by. You even hit the lockers with your back. Sam laughed at you and then looked at me, whispering to you something like holy smokes. And then how we've met for real when a mutual friend introduced us to each other, i couldn't help myself but to look at all your features and memorise them, cause i knew you were going to be the death of me. I tell myself that love at first sight doesn't exist, but with you.. Colby, you are something else and i hate you for what you made me feel. I always think about how you tried to pick on anything just to talk to me, how you were outside playing some game with your friends with a football ball and you told them i distracted you when you lost the game.", i laugh at the memory, replaying it in my head. "i really wish i could see you one more time. I'm in love with you, Colb-"

Your voice message was successfully sent

"NO. No no no, no. This can't be happening, oh my God. Oh my fucking God", i start roaming around the living room, my leg hitting the couch, making me trip and almost fall on the floor. I throw my phone away, the cracking sound doing no damage, the cracking of my brain cells becoming louder and louder after the fact that i didn't pay enough attention to the minutes of the voice mail. I take a deep breath, but my anxiety hits me hard and i sit on the floor, in the corner of the living room, biting my nails and fingers. I put my head in my hands, telling myself how stupid i am for doing such a foolish thing. If only i wasn't that distracted..

A ding is heard from my cracked phone and i see the screen turning on from where I'm sitting. No, this can't be happening. I spend a few more minutes trying to get calmer, scared of what he might have said. I spend these minutes creating different scenarios of what he might have told me, trying to choose one that would hurt less or i would prefer to happen. To be honest, i don't find anything that pleases me, so i get up and cringe at my phone as i unlock it, scared to read the message. I take a deep breath and read.

"oh wow... Uhm, hi y/n. This is definitely unexpected. Are u busy tomorrow?", Colby's text shows up in my notification bar. I scrunch my nose and face palm myself. I was so stupid

"you can ignore that.. U don't need to make it more awkward than it is already. Please", i text back and sit my sorry ass on the couch, tossing thd phone right next to me

"We need to talk. I can't just pretend u didn't send this to me"

I roll my eyes. "It sent my itself"

"Don't be childish. Tomorrow at 2pm? And I'll see u at the mall", i read his message and weigh if i havr anything else to lose. Of course i don't, my dignity went downhill already.

"Sounds good"

*******

I park my car and send Colby and text, announcing my presence. He calls me instead of replying.

"Hey, where are you? I can't see your car"

"Do you even know what I'm driving?", i laugh and get out of the car and lock it

"Well, did you change the car you used to have?", i remain silent at the question, feeling hurt. "Wrong choice of words, I'm sorry. I see you", he hangs up and i start walking towards him when i see him.

"Hey, Colby"

"Hey, y/n, it's so great to see you", he hugs me and i pat him on the shoulder a few times, feeling the awkwardness between us. We back away and check each other out. Even tho i still know how Colby looks like from their videos, it's amazing seeing him in person after such a long time. He checks me out, looking me up and down. I look down at my converse and brush a hand through my hair.

"Should we go inside?", i motion to the entrance of the mall. He nods and we walk inside, finding the Starbucks immediately and buying two drinks, sitting at a remote table. We talk about each other's hectic lives, him being who he is and me being the person that i am, never doing anything extraordinary but to be myself and play everything safe. We laugh, he gives me some insides about the whole ghost hunting experience, telling me how he wants to see me in action.

"What if that ghost likes me? Will it follow me and watch me shower?", i joke and take a sil of my coffee while he almost chokes on his drink.

"It better not like you to that extent", Colby says and he smirks, shaking his head. I take another sip of my drink and he follows my action. All of a sudden, the air thickens. "So, liking. Hmm, that reminds me-"

"Noooo, oh no. Colby..", i lean my head forward until i reach the table with my forehead. He laughs at me and taps my wrist to get up and look at him

"C'mon it's not that bad", he smiles at me and i shake my head, looking in another direction

"It's easy for you to say that, you didn't send anything by mistake. Especially a love confession", i look him in the eyes and i seethem sparkle. I'm out of breath for a second. I shake my head again

"But i wanted to", he says fast and i lean back on the leather armchair

"I bet, with so many beautiful girls around you it's hard to keep it for yourself", i smirk and take another sip, nervous. "Is any of them the reason you ghosted me for almost four years now?", i chuckle and he shrugs his shoulders and leans back the way i did.

"No, I'm sorry for that. It's just...", he looks away. He bites his lip amd starts twisting around his rings. "I was a coward"

"Why?", i ask confused

"Because i liked you a lot back then and I'm sorry for not telling you. I remember all the moments you talked about in that voice message. I was replaying them in my head while you were talking. It was in that moment when i realised how much I've missed your voice. So warm and calming. ", he clears his throat. "i was a coward for not owning up to my feelings. I talked to Sam about you every day or night, telling him how beautiful you looked and how i know you'll never look at me cause you were so gorgeous all the time. I never thought my looks would be enough to match yours. Every time i came back to the floor we've had classes on, i would see you at your locker with your friend and laugh all the time. You were so happy. I even asked myself how is it possible for you to have a smile on your face every damn day, weren't you getting upset about anything? ", Colby asks and the question wakes me up from the flashbacks i started receiving

"I've had my days, but when we had breaks, i had no reason to be so sad or angry about whatever. I didn't like wasting those 10 minutes for a bad grade or anything", i chuckle and shrug my shoulders. He chuckles too.

"I remember when you started avoiding me, i never knew why, so i started avoiding you too"

"I remember that, i was wondering why you were avoiding me", i say

"Why did you do that?", Colby asks, frowning

"I thought i had to give you space. I know i was talking way too much to you and i didn't know of you enjoyed it, so i cut it short for a while to show you I'm not crazy or anything. I thought i was bothering you"

"You never bothered me", he gives me half a smile and takes a sip of his drink. I look down on the table, feeling nauseous from the coffee, so i push it a little bit further from me. "After two weeks of avoiding each other, i remember seeing you enter the high school yard right when i was coming outside and i thought to myself that it can't be real, such a perfect timing to see you with no one around, just us meeting by mistake", he laughs. "I thought faith was actually real in that moment.", i laugh too. "Anyways, i saw you and i was surprised to see you come hug me, even tho it was me who extended his arms first for you. And when we finally hugged, i swear i didn't want to let go."

I gulp at his statement and feel my cheeks get red.

"I remember that feeling too. I was so mad at you, but i wasn't because you didn't talk to me, it was because i knew we will never be more than friends and hug buddies. I just wish i could change something between us. I remember feeling jealous because others had more access to you than i did, all because i chose not to spend so much time with you and Sam.",i draw circles on the condensed water from the cup. "oh my god, when it was your birthday and i told you happy birthday and there was a bunch of other kids around you, i didn't think you heard me, but you turned around and, oh wait, i was wearing make up for the first time in a few months, and you were just staring at me", we both laugh and tap the table with our palms. "You looked at me up amd down and called me beautiful before thanking me. I almost passed out", we laugh again

"It's so weird that we're talking about the crush we've had on each other so naturally.", Colby points out and i frown when i realise that's true. I swallow.

"It's easier to admit what was in the past", i draw circles again on the cup

"Is it just in the past?", Colby takes my hand in his, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of my hand. I watch his soft movement and then look up in his eyes. His blue irises look like a whole universe that i want to get lost in forever. I take my hand away from his and i grab my small backpack

"I think we should get going", i get up and he follows me, nodding. He walks me to my car, surprised that i actually changed my car since high school.

"I'm sorry i said that, back at Starbucks, but we need to address it.", he apologies and leans back on the trunk. I walk in front of him so we can hear each other better

"We have nothing to address, Colby. I fucked up anf and admitted my feelings towards you, but I'm stupid to have such feelings for a person who forgot about me and never came back in my life, until now, when it was also because of me.", i raise my voice unnecessarily and i look down to the ground, telling Colby without words that I'm sorry.

"I did that because i couldn't play cat and mouse with you. I never knew how you felt and i was stupid not to ask you about it. Trust me, i regret that very much. But in the same time, i wish you could tell me. Why didn't you?"

"Because my friend had a crush on you, that you developed feelings for after high school, dated her but no one knew cause you were keeping it a secret and you were also gone all the time because Sam and Colby were now touring America, meeting fans. I had no chance in receiving a positive answer from you "

Colby's mouth falls open and i shake my head, kicking a small stone next to my foot.

"Let's leave it here. I'm really glad we saw each other, but you've never had feelings for me, I'm just sorry we didn't stay friends. Maybe my feelings for you aren't going anywhere because i had no chance getting rid of them. I kept thinking about you every day almost for the past years, always trying to come up with answers about why you left me like that.", i take my car keys out, but Colby grabs my wrists and pulls me closer to him, his lips crashing on mine and hands now on my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I put my hands around his neck and bring him closer to my face if possible, our kisses wet and messy just like our heads. He bites my bottom lip and a loud exhale escapes my lips, his lips catching mine in another hungry kiss. We back away to take a few deep breaths and kiss again, his tongue brushing over mine, his hands pulling at my hair to gain soft moans, while my hands roam his abs, tightening my grip on his flesh every now and then, gaining soft whimpers from him. Colby's lips travel down my jaw line, sucking amd biting the skin, before going further down and finding all my sweet spots on my neck. I moan pretty loud when he places his mouth over the most sensitive spot and starts sucking immediately, making me weak in the knees.

"That should leave a mark", he smirks and pecks my lips one more time. I try to catch my breath.

"Why?"

"So people will know you're taken. I've loved you for such a long time and I've lost you because we were both stupid and i won't let that happen again. I missed you like crazy and i never had the guts to call you cause i had no right to do that. I left you for all the new things that were happening to me. I left you because i always thought we were friends and nothing more, it hurt a lot feeling you so indifferent about me, about us. So i left when the occasion looked better. ", he looks down and intertwines his fingers with mine." But i don't want to lose that again. ", he smiles and i smile back, pulling him into a hug.

"I missed you too, Colby."

"Thank you for sending that by mistake"

"I wish i did it on purpose tho"

#colby brock #sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #sam golbach

432 notes · View notes

springdandelixn · 1 year

Note

Would it be possible to do one with Bucky (or Loki if you don’t write Bucky) finding out from a video you post about the four years of grooming and gaslighting gaslighting (and the inability to believe your own brain or trust reality because of that), and physical and sexual abuse that an ex put you through? Reacting however you see fit. I have to make that video about my ex next week and I’m really just in need of some comfort

No Loose Ends

Summary: Everything Bucky does, he does for you.

Warnings: non-graphic death, mentions of abuse, nothing really to worry about but do read the ask to be aware of what's to come.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

A/N: I thank you, my dear, for this request. It's the first time that I am writing Bucky and to put him in such a scene was a delight to write. Also, I just want to tell you again that you are strong for doing what you will be doing, and know that I have your back and you have my support. Thank you for trusting me with this and I hope I've done Bucky some justice and given you comfort.

His hands clenched tightly into fists as Bucky keeps his eyes on the computer screen. Each word coming from your mouth, each tear falling from your eyes was like a knife stabbing deep into his heart. The woman on the screen wasn’t the woman he fell in love with, for he knew you to be someone who always had a smile on their face, always ready to help, and always prepared to listen to anyone who needed someone for them to not feel alone.

But all the same, he wants to love her even more.

It’s what he loved about you, what drew him to you in the first place. The calmness you exuded, the gentleness you showed him, the love you gave back tenfold, and the bravery you showed when no one but Steve wanted to do anything with him when he first joined the team.

Bucky didn’t think too much of the email Steve sent him with that video attachment. He thought it simply to be another mission brief like any other but as soon as he played it and saw how broken you looked in the video, whoever you were talking about, the person that brought you so much pain and destruction; he wanted dead.

“You look so nice there, doll.” You turn your head and give Bucky a soft smile as you finish folding his shirt and lay it neatly on the bed.

“The housewife you dreamed of?” You tease and a startled gasp leaves your lips when you feel his arms wrap around your waist all of a sudden, the bed dipping low from his weight.

You giggle when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, dropping the garment in your hands back in the basket. You reach over and cradled the side of his face, your back leaning against his strong chest.

“The mission tough?”

“No. Pretty easy really.” He huffs, his breath tickling your skin. “Easy in and easy out. Child’s play.”

“Then why does it seem like the end of the world for you, Mr. Barnes?” You ask, your fingers running through his soft locks as he nuzzles his nose against your shoulder.

“You know I hate being away from you, Mrs. Barnes.” He whispers against your skin, the sensation tickling you and sending shivers throughout your body.

“As you said, easy in and easy out, right?” He nods and faces you, blue eyes shining deeply as you cup his face. “You’ll be home before you know it and I will be here, waiting like an antsy wife til you come back.” You smile and sigh softly when he presses his forehead against your own, his arms tightening around your frame as he moves you to sit on his lap.

“You do always get antsy.” He chuckles lightly before his face turns serious. He reaches up to cup your face and you feel the pace of your heart quicken when you see the intensity of his gaze. “Just know that I love you, doll. Always.” His voice is low and sure and you smile at his words, knowing them to be nothing but the truth. “What I do, I do for you. To keep you safe.”

“No loose ends.” You recite upon instinct. It was his mantra ever since, one you adapted to it easily when he walked into your life.

“No loose ends.”

The sound of the television playing in the background calms you as you prepare dinner in the kitchen. Bucky sent you a message, informing you that he’s coming home and the excitement you felt after reading it was through the roof.

Not that he was gone for long; the mission only lasted three days, but Bucky coming home and knowing that he’s safe and sound always brought a sense of peace through you, and if anything, you only want the best for the man that has shown you nothing but love and affection despite his hardened exterior.

You shut the oven door close and set your attention to cutting up some fresh fruits, making sure to cut up the plums nicely and setting them on the serving plate. But your heart stops when you hear the name you never thought you hear again, the muffled sound of the television turning all too clear as you turn to face the screen.

The knife drops from your hand and you gasp when you see his face on the television, your body shaking as memories of the past begin flooding in. The gaslighting, the manipulation, the toxicity you forcibly pulled yourself from and tried so hard to escape, only finding such courage and drowning out the fear after years of his continuous abuse.

“Nick Fowler was said to be the leader of the notorious crime syndicate terrorizing New York and the neighboring states.” The news anchor recites as images of Nick flashed through the screen, his body covered in blood and lifeless against the pavement of the street.

“We didn’t think they would be heavily armed.” Your shock intensifies when you see Steve talking to the media. “They put up a strong fight and in the face of a battle, casualties cannot be avoided. Though we do take comfort in the fact that he was a very dangerous man and the Avengers' number one priority is to keep the civilians safe.”

If Steve is there then you know Bucky is there with him. Your mind then flits back to your conversation with Bucky the night before he left. How hard he was holding you, his words full of sincerity and love replaying like a broken record that you don’t doubt he knew about your past with Nick. Of what he’s done to you.

No loose ends. You hear his voice in your head.

“No loose ends.” You whisper back.

Your feedback would be highly appreciated even if this is simply a drabble and I hope you guys enjoyed this piece 💙

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #comfort fic #no loose ends #bucky au #mcu au #request fic #request by harlequin-hangout #coconut bun stories #bucky drabble

266 notes · View notes

headsincloud9 · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2 ma paysyul

Paring: adult ao'nung x adult female reader

Wordcount: 6.6k

Summary: nothing is stopping you now a flirtatious game of cat and mouse and one night truly alone changes everything in your relationship with Ao'nung somthing your both eager to explore

Warning: Minors DNI UNDER 18 NO MINORS AT ALL squirting, eating out, fingering.

Y/N Y/N" you open your eyes and sit up hearing Tuk running and calling to you "y/n come on come on you have to come quick its ready" she exclaimed pulling you up and dragging you to your own mauri.

"Tuk come on you are practically dragging me what is going-" you stop seeing Norm Max Jake even Tonowari. You look around seeing a avatar link bed a remote one….. her brain scam on the screen. Your heart lept into your throat nerves wracking you system. "Jake?" You look confused unable to say anything else but your body language said it all you were so nervous your flight reflex was flashing like a beacon. "Hey hey easy easy it's okay it's fine we are just here as support your avatar is ready" he chuckles. You couldn't help but smile and nod taking a deep breath "okay let's get started then" you say softly the nervousness becoming replaced with excitement.

You let Norm and Max fuss over your body as they put you in the link bed checking your scan making sure everything was normal before Jake looks down at you "see you on the other side" you smirk and roll your eyes "means I can finally kick your ass for calling me short" you tease as you close your eyes letting your mind go blank.

"-n…..y/n…..Y/N" you hear your name called by a familiar voice. Your eye slowly flutter open coming into focus seeing Norm Max and Jake. You looks around smiling "I hope you guys are this attentive when I'm on my death bed" you tease looking over them with a laugh. They help you sit up and you sigh softly rolling your neck "mmmm thanks I'm fine I'm fine like I was I a deep sleep" you reassure them before stopping noticing your arm….it wasn't dark blue it was almost teal.. unable to speak for a moment your mind putting together the pieces. This wasn't a omatikaya avatar, you stared at the mirror seeing a metakayina girl staring back at you just as shocked as you were. "We decided a long while you were better suited for a metakayina avatar and with the chiefs permission we decided to make yours the first…." Norm states. Shocked you look to them "thank you I don't know what to say" your joy and appreciation is immeasurable.

You sighs a bit impatient having to go through the normal routine check the novelty of looking at yourself wearing off you wanted to swim, ride an ilu, be with Ao'nung…. Your ears flick your eyes widened thinking about Ao'nung he would have no idea. What if he didn't like her in this body. A large hand came to your shoulder and you smile seeing Jake "you look good…. Still short though" he teases and you get up still in fact shorter than him and punch him in the stomach "Shut up old man I can hear your joints groan every time you jump" she rolls her eyes smiling. Tuk had brought the entire family to see you pulling them into the mauri “ look look she’s like us now” she stops seeing you smiling “ wow y/n you are so pretty.” You smile hugging her tail swaying with how from the compliment. “ great now I can’t say im the best at diving anymore” Lo’ak groans and you roll your eyes smacking him on the head. “shut up skxawng” you stick out your tongue and look to Neteyam who gives you a warm smile and a hug and kiri who looks happy to see you okay.

Tsireya came into view gasping looking overjoyed running up and grabbing your hands “ you look beautiful y/n Eywa is smiling on you” she gushes pulling you in for a hug. “He’s going to love it too trust me”. She murmurs in your ear your tail slapping the ground from her words, she knew how close you and Ao’nung had become and your deepening feelings for him. “ i have so many things you can borrow to wear, we should all go on a swim together “ she offers. Jake smirks “ maybe you will run into Ao’nung” he chuckles. You turn your head and hiss at him for the first time your fangs coming out as your ears press to your head,he laughs looking at Tonowari who chuckles as well. “Feisty” he teases as you walks away to the beach with the rest of them.

Ao’nung came back early from hunting his mind wasn’t in it he promised to take y/n on a ride on his ilu he had learned everything he could about you in the short weeks you had been here learning and you had mention about being a dreamwalker being able to inhabit a Na’vi body and walk as one of them. At first the concept felt wrong but the more he thought about you as a Na’vi riding ilu with you, taking you out to the deep ocean, taking you to meet his spirit brother when the Tulkun returned. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face thinking about the look on your face seeing them, but then his heart began to race thinking about courting you, truly courting you, and mating with you. He groans his ears pressing back to his head he needed to stop going down that path before he ended up with a hard on. Eventually his mind made up in a Na’vi body or tawtute body he felt the same you belong here with him his mate. “Hurry up Y/n lets go lets go” his head snaps to the direction of hearing your name squinting seeing the sully kids and his sister but you were absent instead another metkayina girl with them. He walked closer his eyes scanning for you his eyes trained for you sun- kissed kissed skin, but his eye caught the shell pin tucked in the metkayina girls loose hair. His heart began to race. Was that Y/n? His sister was the first to notice him staring and quickly grabbed the girl and spun her around to face him. He watched the girls eyes widen then her face flush, without hesitation his body moved him to her he could even stop to come up with some clever remark.

You walked with Tsireya you had always promised yourself your first dive would be with Ao'nung but Eywa didn't have that in the cards for you which made you a little sad. "Y/n look" you feel your body being forced to turn in another direction and you blush hard seeing Ao'nung. Everything in your mind screaming run every doubt coming to the forefront your humanity, your 4 fingers your. Your brain stopped working not even realizing he'd walked right up to you your inner thoughts having cut that part from your mind. You stare up at him nervously your now blue eyes staring wildly at him your ears flick a litle, tail swaying gently anyone could see your were hanging on edge and nervous for a reaction.

Speechless again like the second time this time he wasn't going to shy away. He cradled your face in his hand thumb rubbing over your cheeks. A small smirk on his face but his eyes said everything dilated wide with amazement, excitement, and a third swirling emotion that kept shifting and changing as his eyes took you in. His tail sways and he presses his forehead to yours closing his eyes "you look perfect ma tsawksyul so perfect….." He murmurs in your ear before pulling away.

You blush smiling and lean into his touch eyes closed before looking up at him saying nothing in the short time you both had been together conversations through body language mostly through the eyes became a second form of communication when words felt too difficult to convey. You stared into his eyes watching the small changes in his expression and you can’t help but smile your heart racing and. Slowly you pull him with you to swim. You gasp feeling him yank you back to his chest his strong hand on your hip the other tracing up your arm . His breath ghosting just behind your ear his nose nuzzling the skin he inhales and audibly groans pressing you closer to him "y/n i know they want to swim with you but i prefer what we had in mind before.” He murmurs his nose and lips never leaving that little space where your neck and your jaw meet. He pressed his lips into the junction his fingers roaming through your hair fingers grazing over you kuru making your mind fuzzy. “You can’t just hog my time Ao’nung , it's not like I'm going anywhere” you state looking up at him. He smirks your heart fluttering but could see the glint of mischief “ but don’t you want to ride an ilu with me you finally can now.” You squint and turn around pressing into his torso “ you are not playing fair Ao’nung and you know it” he chuckles watching you begin to walk away following after you in to the water.

Swimming was different when you were actual suited for it everything felt easier. You smile touching tsireya’s arm ‘he liked it he really did….but i do need a favor, Ao’nung is wanting to teach me a to ride an ilu and id rather not embarrass myself in front of him’. You sign to her remembering the conversation from weeks ago with him and your mind returning to Lo’ak and the story of how everyone laughed at him his first go around. You would die of embarrassment if you get dragged around by an ilu infront of him. 'You really like him don't you' she signs a large smile on her face. You blush and tilt back doing a slow back flip and cover your face unable to stop the wide smile hurting your face.

Ao’nung watched you swim and suspend yourself underwater unable to keep his smile at bay as he watch you truly enjoy the water, it was moments like this is why he wanted you here with him, why he wanted you he had never seen someone so in love with the ocean. He watch you interact with his sister he knew you had become inseparable with her which he liked at times when you weren’t being stolen by her to weave clothes or collect shells. He knew you'd fit in well with his family, his father often talked about your strong love of the sea and the people and how often he'd catch you working on broken nets for the hunters well past eclipse. He chuckles watching you flip and spin a huge smile on your face matching you with one of his own. He couldn’t help but watch you

Ao’nung had managed to grab you before anyone else the next morning insisting he teach you to ride an ilu. You were panicking as he dragged you into the water you were supposed to practice with tsireya first but somehow your luck had run out. “Ao’ are you sure” trying to gently suggest waiting if not a few days then a few hours but he stubbornly wouldn’t budge. You sigh praying to the great mother to not embarrass yourself infront of the man you were completely infatuated with as he let go of your hand. You stand behind him hearing him call and chirp for an ilu your heart racing something about the sounds he made had your stomach doing flips and turns you bite your bottom lip and watch in awe as a few appeared one nuzzling against your leg. You giggle watching the creature come to you "hello there you are adoable" you smile and reach out petting the ilu that seemed to take a liking you. You felt eyes on you as you Bonded with the ilu turning finding the culprit to be a smirking Ao'nung. You blush and turn away smiling only to feel his chest against your his lips pressed to your ear. "Now you must make the bond hold here" he instructed taking your Hand and holding it secure and lets your make the bond for the first time your ears pressing back eyes dilated wide "oh wow that is a intense feeling" you gasp out hearing him chuckle "ready to try riding for the first time" you bite your bottom lip knowing now the creature you were blinded to could feel your nervousness.

It felt easy at first as the ilu took you under but like you feared the current and force was too strong sending you flying off the ilu your hair a mess as the force had tangled it. You felt like drowning yourself as you heard his laugh. Your face burned with embarrassment wanting to dive off the sea wall or just lock yourself in your marui,the one to take over warring in your body. You couldn’t face him not after that you stay under water willing yourself to inhale before a large hand yanks you to the surface amused smirk happy expression you half expected him to tease you like he did Lo’ak. You look away hearing him chuckle “ don’t laugh Ao’nung” you say upset looking away “why because you look like you got dragged through-“ you didnt bother to listen your ears falling down as you look away, were tears threatening to spill right now?

Ao’nung stopped his teasing seeing how upset you look from your mistake, he sighs gently pulling you close and fixes your hair gently his heart hammering he could not bare to see you this upset no matter how adorable it was to see you so flustered and disoriented. He sighs pulling you close cradling your face in his hand rubbing your cheeks with his thumb “ don’t look so upset it happens to everyone” he murmurs softly trying to stop the watery tears in your eyes from breaking past. He couldnt help himself but seeing you this upset made him feel bad. He leans in pressing his forehead to yours closing his eyes for a moment before pulling away. You whimper looking up at him your fingers curling around his wrist leaning into his touch “i promise you will get better” he smirks looking at you as you close your eyes nodding. He leans in still holding your head in his hands pressing a kiss your lips. You melt into him kissing back your tail splashing in the water your fingers teaching down his chest. He grunts pulling away before pressing on more kiss to your parted lips “I couldn’t help but laugh a little yawne you look adorable flustered and disheveled” he admits watching you blush his smirk widening as you hit him again “ skxawng you are so mean” you slap his leg the best you could in the water with your tail. He chuckles tilting his head “let me make it up to you yawne hmm?” He murmurs his voice becoming a low whisper stepping closer tilting his head his thumb slowly grazing over your bottom lip. You look up at him heart racing your head barely nodding, his eyes darkens watching his jaw clench before letting out a deep sigh and pressing his lips to yours.

Your heart soars and knees buckle unable to stop the desperate whine that escapes your lips as you kiss back pressing up for more of him. He groans hands slipping from your face down to your hip squeezing hard as if trying to keep itself grounded. You arch your body into him breaking the kiss for all of 3 seconds breathless lips barely apart staring into his eyes the blue hidden under a bit of black pupils dilated beyond recognition. He snakes his arm around you hips pulling you up on instinct you jump wrapping your legs around his hips feeling him move until your sitting on the rough wet platform of the reef rocks exposed in the water. His lips had never left your skin peppering kisses up and down your neck. You whine pulling him back to your lips your fingers tracing down the sides of his neck feeling his own hands grip and squeeze you closer chuckling as he kisses you again.

He growls wanting more of you his fingers craving to mark every inch of your body as he pulled you closer to him exploring your mouth with his tongue before his mind screamed for him to stop once he felt your fingers on his tweng. He wanted to court you and mate you right not fuck you in the middle of the reef as much as the though made his cock twitch. He looks up at you taking in your wide confused eyes asking him silently 'why? Why did you stop?' He groans taking a deep breath "you are testing what little control I have ma yawnteu" he growls staring up at you. You smile softly "didn't seem to mind a few minutes ago Ao' " his cock twitching just from your voice,you smile and trace a finger down his chest tracing random shapes over his pecs and chest "I am trying to be a gentleman Y/n when all I want to do is mate with you right now make you mine for all to see" he growls looking around his ears pressed back to his "it won't be soft or gentle or sweet like you deserve it will be hard rough and you will be screaming my name until I make your sore and you don't need that…yet" he runs his fingers through your loose hair. You shiver and look up at him your tail audibly slapping the rock in delight your eyes shimmering. He chuckles and kisses your jaw "come on ma tsawksyul try again I promise It gets easier" he helps you back into the water and back on your ilu.

The sun began to set as you slowly caught on to riding a ilu. Ao'nung following you on his ilu as you ride through the water smiling and letting youe free arm flowing with the current behind you. Coming up for air you smile petting your ilu "we finally did it" giggling hearing a chirp as you pet her neck. "I told you y/n you would catch on fast" ao'nung deep voice comes behind you touching your lower back. You shiver smiling looking back at him as the sky began to slowly turn purple eclipse, ears drooping wanting to stay out longer so used to your human body forgetting you could stay out past dark. “We should get back shouldn’t we its not safe” she murmurs

He takes your hand and pulls you closer "yawntu you've been a tawtute too long" he puts your palm against his 3 fingers to 4 as your ilus circled each other "come on yawne" he hums and dives with his ilu. You follow watching the reef come to life in brilliant bioluminescence and glide above him reaching out your hand feeling his brush yours. You smile swimming close your ilus twirling and swimming around each other in a sort of flirtatious dance mirroring the thoughts from your bond and his. You smile the tanhi accenting your face glittering in the dark water he signs for you to follow and you agree following his ilu until you both come across a small secluded beach hidden by rocks

You disconnect from your ilu and swim to the beach. "I still will say pandora at night is the best" you hum looking around. Your ears flick hearing his laugh as you both exit the water "I think there is one thing I like to see at night" he murmurs you could feel his searing gaze on your body and you shake your head blushing walking onto shore feeling his hand take yours. You say nothing, smiling brightly as you both walk on the beach.

“Shouldn’t we get back” you say softly know how dangerous it can be at night pandora was a savage planet a savage beauty that you loved, respected and partially feared.

Ao’nung pulls you into his chest wanting to hold you straddling his lap,he sits against some rocks that faced out to the water and held out his hand “don’t you trust me you are going to be fine” he smirks leaning forward and taking your hand yanking you into his chest. With a soft yelp you fall into him rolling your eyes slapping his chest as he caught you “ was that really necessary” you sigh and shift getting comfortable in his arms going for your usual position eager to feel the safeness and security he gave you back pressed to his chest but his hands denied you staying on your hips preventing you from moving any further than as if he wanted you to be looking up at him instead of turned away from him. He was tired of depriving himself of your face just to hold you call that childish but he was greedy almost shamefully greedy when it came to you.“yes” he gasps making your heart flutter.

“i was robbed of this and i want it back” he murmurs. You smile softly in the past weeks with Ao’nung one thing you learned is how possessive he was of you, during teaching you he made sure to take you as early as your bodies would allow to prevent any of the others from joining them even taking you to secluded secret spots he could have you to himself mostly to do just this fawn and kiss your skin. And why bother using your mauri besides to link and de link both of your bodies slept with him in some form or another you always was with him and him with you. He was even prone to completely scent marking you to the point a dip in the ocean wouldn’t wash away the smell.

“Ao’ what are you even talking about we spent the entire day together” you sigh tilting your head as his lips brush up the side of your throat “i know but not once did i get to hold you not like this” he murmurs “so beautiful,” he purrs mostly to himself his fingers tracing down your arm intertwining your fingers together. You moan out softly and look up at him his blue eyes smoldering in the bioluminescent darkness around you both. Your eyes closing feeling his hand trace over your jaw and throat slowly sliding up the length to tilt your head back further. “Is it wrong to want you….to have you alone” your eyes flutter open eyes shimmering with shock hearing his words and the meaning to them. He stares at you thumb brushing over your lips “its only fair when you tease and distract me with every breath you fucking take” he groans pressing his nose into the junction wher your neck meets the base of your skull. His tail smacking and swishing in the sand before moving to touch yours. You whine your ears twitching heart hammering in your chest.

Over the past few weeks he had gotten carried away becoming overly physical it started with a passing touch with every moment he passed you a touch on the hip or arm. But as the urge to resist whatever pull you both feel for one another was all but forgotten the light passing affection became touch starved, needy, and possessive. Often talking to other clan members the men there he was. His strong arms sliding over your torso and yanking you to him pressing his nose into your temple a content smile with a threatening glare to follow as you obviously accept his affection unaware of the wordless threats he shot at other males. His fingers had taken to aimlessly tracing the stripes and tahni you wear on your skin. Many joke he was touched starved with how often he had his hands on you. And if he wasn't around to physically stake his claim he did so in the fact you reeked of him. Jake didn't let you live it down so much so Ao'nung overhead and made his personal mission to scent mark you make sure everyone knew you were his

A sharp wave of heat snapped through your body hearing his words making her squirm slightly in his arms presssing into his shoulder trying to stop the pooling need not only in your lower stomach but now your cunt already creating a damp spot in your tewng.

You can’t help but press your thighs together trying hard not to let eh whine that was crawling up your throat escape into the night further giving you away. Pulse ringing in your ears feeling his tongue press into your exposed neck licking a long stripe right under your jaw growling your eyes fluttering open looking up as he stared Down at you eyes dark with lust only reflecting the dim light around you. “How is that my fault its not like you are doing anything about it” you asking making a valid point to your teasing shifting your body the view as lovely as it is was not your main concern. You gasp feeling his grip tighten as if to protest your movement but soon let go realizing you had no intention of leaving . Your body already that sounds like a personal problem Ao’nung” you tease voice sultry as you smile eyes blazing with the challenge. "So unless you are going to fix the problem why keep talking about it" you giggle turning your body to straddle him wanting to see him

He chuckles that smart mouth of yours was going to get you both in trouble right now you more so than him. He looks down at you seeing that spark in your eyes as if asking to challenge you. He smirks pressing a kiss into your jaw his hand instinctively grabbing your thigh pulling it “you’re right yawne it is my problem guess I'll just fix it the best way I know how" he chuckles his large hand sliding up your chest, fingers slowly tracing up your skin. He relished in the sound of your moans and gasp from a simple thing like his touch his eyes shimmering with a lustful satisfaction.

An intense hunger began to consume him his lips following his fingers exploring your body all rational thoughts leaving his mind and left a monstrous lust a cracking for you— your eyes, smile and voice become a siren-song driving ever closer to the brink of insanity.fingers wrapping slowly around your neck running his nose along your jaw line his other hand gripping your hip thumb drawing those ticklish circles in your skin. "Hands on" he growls pressing an kiss to your temple adjusting his grip the veins in his hands . He chuckles hearing you moan and gasp for air. He watches your eyes flutter close as his lips brush over your skin loving how you melted and reacted to his words his touch. He could smell your arousal it filled every crack every part of his already clouding brain.

You can’t help the shiver you feel run down your spine as he tightens his grip on your neck, the shock pooling in that ever growing tightening knot in your core. your walls clenching around nothing as a wave of arousal gushes from your now soaking cunt further ruining your tweng.your heart begins to race in your chest feeling his fangs on your skin the thrill of excitement making you squirm.

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out the look in his eyes something you couldn’t put in to words but yet you still understood somehow. Your body shudders involuntarily feeling his hands slowly shift from you hip sliding softly down your thigh the feeling ticklish yet lit a fire inside your body that made your heart pick up and stomach flip. You didn't couldn’t say anything feeling his fingers grip into your thigh the other following soon after. Your eyes never left his as you slide your hands ups his chest fingers dreaming over the swell of his pecs and around his neck feeling the bounce and shift as he slid you in to his lap the tension so thick you felt as if you were losing air as if venturing to far down in the the lagoon.

He couldn't stop himself as he pushed you into the soft sand bodies desperately pressed together as his tongue swirls around your own exploring your mouth claiming it as his, tail slapping the ground as his lips became a little more curious. He couldn't help himself. You had become his obsession he wanted to know, see, feel, every part of you inside and out. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone out loud but he was a man possessed happily so. A growl left his lips as his hand wrap around and grip into your torso and back pressing into your soft skin pulling

He smirks “ here alone i have access to every single part of you and your body.” He chuckle his hands moving up your inner thigh. You whimper arching your back unable to control the reaction your body had under his touch. The look in his eyes was akin to a deranged or rabid animal if you said stop it would fall on deaf ears as if you would utter the word. You look up at him and his predatory grin, a desperate whine coming from her lips as she shift under the hard cage of his body. He chuckles watching you squirm and whine under him as he presses kisses down your body. His nimble fingers slide acros you back the woven top becoming loose and sliding from your body. “ you're so perfect” he groans out as he presses his lips to your hardening nipples reacting to the cool air. He lips latch around one sucking biting holding you down in his iron grip as you writhed in pleasure.

You whine and whimper feeling him release your nipple with a pop pressing hot kisses down your body so,what idly tracing the soft tahni that adorned your skin. You relax let your body submit to him arching and accepting his kisses as he left a trail before stopping right at your thighs

He licks your inner thigh his ears flick hearing your desperate whine as you arch your back moaning in frustration as his hot tongue hit the wrong place the junction of your inner thigh meets your pelvis. “Please” you whine your body rolling up as you turn your head to the side panting your pussy having soaked your tweng in its juices desperate for him despite his insufferable teasing. “ are you asking me to continue yawne” he growls pressing his cheek into your thigh glaring up smirking pressing another soft kiss to your thigh taking pleasure in his torture of you. “You aren’t being fair Ao’nung” you groan as his thumb caressed the soaked fabric pressing his finger into your swollen neglected clit watching as a wave of arousal re soaked the already ruined fabric. He chuckles and decides to give in to your whining it was hard to resist he pulled of your soaked fabric leaving you bare for him to see. He slid his fingers in between your soaked folds groaning “ soaked already fuck you smell so good” he murmurs his face buried between your legs nose nuzzling you clit sending shocks up your spine. He took. A deep inhale seeming intoxicated with your scent alone before carnal hunger took over “ you smell so good wonder if you taste the same” he smirks

You could barely understand him your brain fuzzy just from the little stimulation from his nose on her clit. Walls clenching around nothing begging for release. You whine out begging for him “ pleas Ao’nung stop teasing I can’t take it” he chuckles loving how your voice sounded all needy “ but didnt you say if i wanted to fix the problem id have to do it myself “ he chuckles smug. Before you could respond his long hot tongue pressed into your swollen clit before licking the length of your soaked cunt. His eyes become black as they dilate from your taste alone something he could only compare to a Na’vi in heat or a shark in a feeding frenzy. His mouth latched onto your cunt his tongue flicking across your opening before making lazy circles around your clit.

You squeal fingers instantly finding his hair gripping and tugging as your hips roll and buck against his tongue. He growls pulling his mouth away lips and chin already slick and glistening “ did i say you could grind on my face hmm? Did you forget im in control.” He chuckle his grip changing holding your thighs apart as his forearms held your hips down. You whine as the sensation subsided and a burning unsatisfied need took its place. “Aonung stop teasing fuck your being mean” You whine and let your head fall back into the sand “ and your being disobedient im a metkayina warrior and a real warrior doesn’t need assistance especially when eating…..so. let. Me. Eat” with each word a lick to your opening then a suck on your clit only for him to spit on your cunt and lick it up again. you whimper legs trembling from those words alone. He chuckles and kisses your thigh before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh your eyes rolling back as the thick knot in your stomach tightens the sensation bringing you to nearly cum all over his face.

"Fuck fuck fuck ao'nung" you whine nails digging in the sand arching your back legs shaking. Ao'nung didn't stop slipping his tongue deep into your aching cunt swirling and teasing your clenching inner walls squeezing and gripping at his tongue as your needy cunt sucked him deeper. The tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap, he pulls away lapping and sucking on your clit the vibrations of his moans making your toes curl and wiggle."ao' nung, fuuck~ your tongue please" you whine beggin incoherently for more. He chuckles pulling away feeling your thighs shake around his face turning his head slightly chuckling nipping your thigh again. "That's right ma yawne wiggle your toes and let yourself go" he groans before continuing on your aching cunt. He licks up your juices groaning from the taste his fangs nipping your folds "fuck you taste so good" he groans out before letting his tongue lick and flick at your folds before slithering back into your quivering insides.

You whimper gripping his hair the bun messed up long ago carnal need to devour you. Fingers twisted in his wavy hair the only thing grounding you as his long tongue turned your mind to jelly. Nothing more than his name and long moans escaping your lips. He pulls his tongue away despite how much he loving the way his name rolls of your lips each moan you give. "Mmmm where did that smart mouth go hmm isnt this what you wanted me to fix the problem" he chuckles slipping his fingers inside of you his fingers dragging and pressing on your spot as he waits for your answer knowing your brain is to sex drunk to respond. Your ears flick to the sound of his voice "mmm alright guess I will let your body answer" he chuckles pulling his finger from your cunt sucking your juices from them "I suggest you give me what I want before I get irritated ma tsawksyul if that I'll keep you on the edge until dawn" he growls in your ear before returning back to your cunt his tongue flicking your clit without mercy his eyes sharp demanding you to stop holding back. He presses his tongue against your clit and sucks pulling his tongue moving abusing her sensitive little clit. "Cumming wanna cum" you whine legs quivering as the tight coiling your lower stomach snapping. He growls pulling away with a sloppy pop before pressing a kiss to your sopping cunt "I want to drown in you" he groans before sucking and moaning flicking ypur clit keeping you firm and still.

You groan and squeal as the coil unraveled and you release into his mouth. Your sweet squirt drenching his chin. He groans opening his mouth swallowing trying to catch every drop of your sweet cum as you did just as he asked and drowned him. He pulls away rubbing your clit licking his lips "yeah ma tsawksyul cum for me" he groans watching you drench not only his palm but the sand as you spray and gush for him.

You whine trembling your vision becoming white as your eyes rolls back in your head, as his assault on your overstimulated cunt made your body lock and tremble your brain becoming static.

"-/N…. Y/N" he chuckles tapping your cheek his voice echoing in your ears. Your eyes flutter open seeing his sweet concerned face "Hey there yawne welcome back you went somewhere" he chuckles. You blush and sigh smiling happily "I think I nearly delinked" you sigh panting. He chuckles smirking "I was that good….I'm flattered" he says smug. You laugh and smack his shoulder "Shut up it was amazing" you snuggle into his chest. And he kisses your head "you are amazing" he murmurs closing his eyes nose buried deep in your wavy hair.

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

@pandoraslxna @xylianasblog @cinetrix

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar james cameron #avatar #avatar fanfiction #aonung x reader smut #awow #kinktober #avatar kinktober #ao'nung reader smut #avatar jake #avatar 2 #avatar tonowari #avatar smut #lunaskinktober2023

40 notes · View notes

hello-nichya-here · 3 months

Note

What's your favourite godly parent/demigods child relationship? Except Percy and Poseidon cause that's too easy. What dynamic do you find the most interesting?

I love Percy and Poseidon's dynamic (especially because it led to Sally's brain going blue screen when her ex randomly showed up at her house one day to eat a birthday cake with their baby boy), but it is actually my second favorite.

Hades and Nico is my number 1 pick because it is MESSY. Like, Hades was totally in love with Nico and Bianca's mom and wanted to protect her and their babies. Then after her death, and him assuring they're hidden and safe he just... never sees his kids again, even though no one else knows they exist and thus at least checking on them wouldn't be too dangerous.

Then they're found and taken to camp half-blood, Bianca goes on a mission and dies - and Nico moves in with his dad. His dad that gives lots of cool things and awesome powers (and leading to bizarre chapter name/plot that was "Nico Buys Happy Meals For The Dead")... yet that casually says something as horrible as "I wish your sister had been the one to survive, by the way."

Yet despite this, Nico is the one who manages to talk Hades into helping the other gods win the war. BUT Hades is annoyed his son is interested in a descendent of Poseidon who just also happens to be the hero that made his life mission to annoy as many greek (and roman) gods as possible. And Nico literally admits to himself that he is constantly fighting the urge to just kick his dad in the balls and run.

And, finally, there's the scene in the catacombs. It's my favorite scene in the book, in that particular saga, and one of my favorites in everything Riordan ever wrote.

Hades just drops the act and cuts through the bullshit to give his son non-cryptic advice/answers and finally opens up a bit, full on saying that most of his kids don't have happy lives and that he wants Nico to be an exception because he cares, and Nico finds comfort in the thought that one day he'll die and be fully under his father's rule...

...And there's also the silly part of them talking about Hades's decoration choices, and both thinking "Is this dude serious or is he fucking with me?" and it ends with Hades seemingly happy about the things his son has in common with him.

Hades just goes from "Dad of the year" to "Neglectful/absent father" to "Completely awful parent that deserves to be bitch-slapped" and then back to awesome so fucking fast, is crazy, and I love every second of it. Plus, they're two of my favorite characters in the story, and Hades is my favorite god (and I mean it both in the books and in the actual myths) so I'm extremelly biased,

#asks #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hades #nico di angelo

23 notes · View notes

prolix-yuy · 8 months

Note

Hello honey 💕 As promised, here I am submitting my request for the 500 follower celebration!

The list of prompts is amazing. I truly had a hard time choosing one, but after Chapter 2 of Both Side of the Door I need to know what happened between Mando and X'ian or I'll will never be at peace again. So I'll go for Heartbreak of betrayal with the two of them, hoping that you'll give us an insight into their relationship.

Ren's crew sees Mando as a sort of traitor, but I really can't see him act like that (as leaving Quinn behind) out of the blue. So who betrayed who? Who betrayed first? How? Why? And most importantly, what the hell happened on Alzoc III? S1E5 left us with so many questions. I need answers 🤯

Ma Chérie! My wonderful @amban-rifle! I have to start this off with an apology. I have held onto this ask for SO GOSH DARN LONG. This is from my 500 Followers Celebration OVER A YEAR AGO. I'm so sorry have kept you waiting but holy heck, what an ask! The drama! The complications! The holes in canon we all struggle with! Plus addressing one of the most confusing and complicated off-screen "relationships" many of us x Reader writers ignore. I wanted to do it justice, and it took a bunch of research, gorging myself on other Star Wars content, and staring off into space while that Spongebob meme of my brain being on fire danced in my noggin. But! It is here, finally. And for being so patient, it's an absolute monster.

Interlude: Burn in My Bloodstream

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader, Din Djarin x Xi'an

Summary: The Mandalorian has shared many secrets, but his greatest one is buried in shame and blood.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, canonical-type violence, allusions to sex work, rough sex throughout, oral sex (m receiving), gagging, voyeurism, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), anal sex, creampie, choking, degradation, threesomes, semi-public sex, cuckolding, blood and descriptive gore, character death, genocide (what a tag that was to write), suicidal thoughts, a fuckton of angst, The Helmet Stays On and it's a Big Deal, a very toxic relationship dynamic.

Notes: This one was an exercise in researching and complicated storytelling, but now that it's done I am over the moon with how it came out. I know that the Din x Xi'an pairing is not many people's cup of tea, but if you want my take on how it came about and what I think happened to give us The Prisoner, here's it all as best as I can surmise. I'm staying as canon compliant as possible because it's fun to connect a bunch of dots, but obviously this is all speculation with some liberal fudging of timelines.

Takes place after Both Sides of the Door, with much of the story set pre-S1 and spoilers for S1 Ep6 The Prisoner. Our Reader character makes an appearance at the beginning and end, so she'll still have a place in this interlude. The title is taken from Ed Sheeran's "Bloodstream" and if you want to know where my mood was for most of this, that song is a good place to start.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

After you retire for the night, Din contemplates telling you about the other woman who left marks on his life. Omera was easy; wrong place, wrong time, and no right time on the horizon. And if he was truthful with himself, maybe no right time ever. He could have loved her, loved the way she cared for him and allowed a softer life for himself. There are times when he lies in bed and wonders what a world like that might look like for him.

It’s…difficult.

Even thinking of a little plot of land, a space all his own tied to the earth of a planet, makes him yearn for the skies and space that surround you three on the Crest. He could never truly root in soil, so used to being a seed on the wind. There would always be bounties to chase, duties to fulfill, missions to complete.

Right?

And if he digs even deeper, he might find the clearest truth hidden among the memories.

His heart belonged to you longer than even he knew.

There were times when he let others touch it. Omera’s hands held it gently, too kindly for him to accept. And to keep it, she would need him to lift the helmet, the one thing he could not give her. Being a Mandalorian is all he knows. So he took his heart with him, and he’s sure she’s better off without it.

But there was another who reached into his chest with claws and teeth and left him bloody from her affections. One he tries not to dwell on as long as he can. A time in his life that brought more shame than any other, misted in blood and sex and credits.

He wants to share more of his world with you. You deserve to understand exactly why he is the man he is today.

But he does not think he can tell you about Xi’an.

“Got something special for you, Mando,” Karga says when he settles across the table. “You’ve been requested by name.”

Din cocks his head, one hand drumming restlessly.

“That’s new,” he says. He likes playing mysterious for Karga, embodying all that a Mandalorian is supposed to be, even when some days he feels like a small child wearing his buir’s armor. At least it hides the worst of his apprehension, impassive helmet masking how his eyes constantly dart around the room, legs tense and ready to spring.

“Ranzar Malk. Leads a small team of mercenaries.”

Din tips his head back, folding his arms over his durasteel cuirass.

“Didn’t think you liked sharing the spoils,” he drawls, watching Karga carefully. The man laughs, sipping back some spotchka and winking at a woman sitting at his bar.

“I don’t. I like my work without middle men. But they bring in very, very good credits. A percentage is more for both of us than the handful of riff-raff I could offer you.” Karga leans forward, elbow coming down and speaking lower. “They want the reputation a Mando can give their team. Help them get some bigger and better jobs. You lend them your striking silhouette, and you’ll be in enough credits to buy a whole suit of beskar. And my cut will be…barely noticeable.” The sly smile Karga schools off his face lets Din know it’s a lot more than unnoticeable, but the job intrigues him.

“What kind of work is it?” he asks. Flashes of memories play at the corner of his mind - Mandalorians coming down from on high to save him, droids shredded in their wake.

“Malk and I have a strict ‘no questions asked’ policy. You do the work, you get paid.”

Din rolls his shoulders, fingers itching to grab onto something solid and deadly.

“How long do they need my…reputation?”

Karga leans back and sweeps his hands wide.

“As long as you want. Open contract.”

Din considers the offer. Mercenary work has never been too lowly for a beroya, but he’d never done any. Mostly small-time criminals and shakedowns in return for credits. But if the money is as good as Karga makes it sound, it could help the covert ten times over.

“Deal.”

“You must be the Mando.”

The voice is snarly, raked over a steel timbre. Din turns to see a barrel-chested, long haired man with a thick salt and pepper beard to match. His face is folded into a smile but the light of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Extending a short-fingered hand, he pumps Din’s gloved one vigorously.

“Karga said you were in need of reputation,” Din says, cooly delivering the lines he practiced on the flight to this no-name hangar in Outer Rim rubble.

“And what are you in need of, Mando?” Malk says, eyeing him with blatant curiosity. Din had planned for this question during his supply run. The covert wasn’t to be named, the last of a culture eradicated. So why was he still traveling, wearing the helmet if he’s not of an unseen world?

“Target practice,” is the dry answer he gives, leveling the helmet at the shorter man. Malk raises an eyebrow before a conspiratorial smile splits his lips.

“I like you, Mando. Man of few words. You’ll get along with the other chatterboxes I run with.”

Malk leads him to a hangar pad, small ships in various levels of disrepair scattered across the peeling floor. A sharp whistle brings three people into view, two purple Twi’leks and a human man.

“My crew,” Malk says proudly, gesturing for them to come closer. The female Twi’lek saunters over with a swing in her hip, the heavy forehead-first stride of her companion close behind. The human throws a grease-spotted towel onto a box of tools and comes to an exasperated stop in front of Malk.

“Can’t believe you shelled out credits for a tin man. I could have put a bucket on and we’d be just as well off,” the man says. His face is Malk claps him on the shoulder.

“Varlo,” Malk says, nodding to Din. He gives a polite tip of his head back. Varlo rolls his cold blue eyes and turns on his heel. His jaw is sharp and squared, matching his lithe frame as he climbs back into an open access hatch. The male Twi’lek approaches Din, soft footwork with his hands in his pockets.

“Qin,” he offers before Malk’s introduction, nodding his head at the amban rifle slung across Din’s chest. “Is it true weapons are part of your religion? Or is that all bedtime stories?” His smirk is condescending, not even veiled. A simmer of annoyance bubbles in Din’s veins but he tamps it out.

“Among other things,” he says instead, earning a sardonic smile and a handshake from Qin.

“All weapons?” the female Twi’lek says at Din’s elbow, running her fingers up the length of the rifle’s barrel. Din twists away, visor meeting the sparkling challenge in the Twi’s eyes.

“My sister, Xi’an,” Qin interjects as she circles Din with roaming eyes. She hisses at him, raising Din’s eyebrows under the helmet, before sharply switching to high-pitched giggles, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done.

“Ohhhh, Mando, we’re going to have fun,” she says, finally coming to rest at her brother’s side.

Din should have walked away in this moment, saved himself a lot of pain and heartache and blood. They were volatile, waiting for a spark to burn everything around them, and Din was only more kindling.

The jobs were easy to start. Wealthy benefactors needing a little extra muscle to get their way. A handful of runaways returned home. One exceptionally smooth jailbreak. Din’s presence gave them a leg up on jobs, but his skills were where he became integral. Combat all done with the efficiency and proficiency of a Mandalorian, but flying was where he excelled. The Razor Crest, in her infancy when he first shook Malk’s hand, was a deadly bird under Din’s touch. Scrambling signatures aside, with Din piloting it was a ghost on the astral winds.

It also became a strange cramped home to the five of them while they traveled. After complaints of too many credits spent on lodging, Malk casually inferred that the Crest could be a better home base. “We’re in it more than out most days,” was his dry reasoning, and with four people staring him down Din agreed, pangs of discomfort pushed to the back of his mind. It made sense, after all. The Crest was a cargo ship. Might as well fill it with cargo.

So between jobs and screaming dogfights in the sky, the mercenaries found themselves within the durasteel walls. Hammocks strung along the hold allowed for sleep, belongings mixing and melding to become communal. There was comfort in that for Din. Individuality beaten out of him in training, he preferred not knowing who liked what ration bar or whose ‘fresher items littered the floor.

In that crush of company, however, he did learn about his family in arms. Not enough to urge him to reveal more of his own past. All of them lived in the present, their histories an inky shadow they let drag behind and paid no mind. He learned instead of their present, trial and error and observation his best tools.

Malk’s connections were far-reaching and unsavory, most bounties questionable in nature but not enough to turn down. He would choose jobs no one wanted, ones that were especially difficult or carried the highest price. A name for himself was the greatest goal, clawing for prestige in how fast, how deadly, how accurate the team could be. Din sometimes caught a feral glint in his eye when they returned, deed done. The crazier the escapade, the more he gloated in cantinas or to his associates. Rarely lifting a finger himself, he worked logistics and timing, connections and credits. And when the job was done, it was only his name that ever hung in the air as they walked away richer.

Varlo was quiet, calculating and cruel. Din thought the standoffishness was a front until he watched the man more closely and realized it was born of a distinct lack of empathy. He could not be bribed, or swayed, or bewitched. While Malk made connections and laid the groundwork, Varlo was the front man on foot. He could talk his way in, execute the seven councilmen sitting at a table full of secrets, and wipe the blood from a particularly valuable one before taking it as insurance. His carefully crafted armor of failsafes and blackmail let him sleep easy every night, no matter the strain Din might feel at the events of the day.

Qin was the strength of the operation. Not bulky like a Devaronian, but leagues stronger and more agile than his body could betray. With enough blaster cover he could incapacitate, maim, and kill anything in his path with his two hands. That surety in his body extended to his place in the world. His smile was always knowing, always scheming something behind the fangs. Time spent across from him could pass pleasantly - Qin could spin you a tale from thin air, wrestle someone into gasping submission, or share silence all in turn - but once he left there was the distinct feeling that he gained more than you meant to give.

And then there was Xi’an. Qin and her relationship was manic on a good day, volcanic on a bad one. They snapped at each other constantly, enough that Din stopped trying to understand if they were mad at each other or simply passing the time. Where Qin was strength, Xi’an was stealth. Her steps made no sound, the silvery whistle of her knives the precursor to bodies on the floor. The delight she took in her own prowess turned Din’s stomach more than once. Brutal hisses and snarls giving way to raucous laughter and almost childish giggles raised the hair on the back of his neck. She was competent and brash, and Maker help anyone who said no to her.

Behind all of them was Din, standing silent and glorious. His helmet parted crowds, murmurs and rumors following the swish of his cape. They wondered why he was running with this bloodthirsty lot, a member of one of the greatest warrior cultures. He let them guess. With his contributions his covert would grow, and one day the children - maybe even his children - would be able to stand in the sun on a world that they called home.

Until then, he hunts.

Din manages to maneuver the delicate balance of this crew living on his ship for over a month before tensions rise. A week without work has made everyone snappish and riled. Malk is hidden away in the cockpit making calls so Din has to remain with them, arms folded as Xi’an needles at Qin. His lip curls into a snarl, and Din braces for a brawl.

“Treating me like your baby sister isn’t going to make the men think you’re tough,” she hisses, sauntering by Qin and circling Varlo. “They don’t care about blood when it comes to close quarters, long hours, pent-up frustration.” She walks her fingers up Varlo’s chest, stroking her pointer along his leather jacket. “Care to blow off some steam?”

Varlo skirts around her touch, dropping down on a crate and leaning back.

“Hard pass, I don’t dip into crazy,” he spits out, Xi’an’s mocking smile chased by a wink of his own. For someone who barely experiences emotion beyond curiosity and satisfaction, he’s good at faking it. With a turn on her heel, she approaches Din instead.

“Ever felt the touch of a woman, Mando? Let someone polish your beskar?” she trills. Din keeps his posture loose, tilts his helmet and sighs.

“Quit dicking around, I’ve got something,” Malk says as he drops down the ladder. “Decommissioning factory has had some thefts. We’re doing short-term security until we catch the guilty party.”

Xi’an backs off, slumping down across from her brother as Din moves to set the Crest’s course. Out of the thick air of the cargo hold he can finally breathe.

He’d wanted to rebuff her, brag about the women he’s brought to the heights of pleasure with just his fingers, but it’s a dangerous path to wander in the barrel of rocket fuel the Crest has become. Shifting his hips in the pilot seat, he thinks back to the last time he fucked his frustrations into another person.

A Togruta, maybe? Or was it that sassy brothel worker?

(a girl on a desert planet that stopped time)

A shiver climbs his spine but he bats it down. In any event it’s been too long since he’s indulged in a soft body. He’ll take care of that after this job, ease some of the stress buried between his shoulder blades. It might make all of this strange arrangement more palatable.

Droids. It had to be droids.

Not the fact that the factory was decommissioning battle droids but that some were going missing, not turning up in the junk pile to be scrapped. The workers didn’t give two shits about it, but because the battle droids were so powerful and dangerous they had to have their chips pulled out and documented for the New Republic. Too many missing chips led to this group striding in like conquering forces.

The first night is uneventful, Din passing patrols with Varlo and Xi’an. Varlo looks at him like another droid, the cold boredom on his face inexplicably boiling Din’s blood. Xi’an’s constant prowling only makes it worse, still determined to crack his stoic demeanor. He’s tired the next day, body running on too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Malk offers him caf that he refuses. He doesn’t like lifting the helmet in front of them.

The second night the issue comes into sharp focus. Not theft, but escape. A droid spray painted in yellow stripes enters the facility to reactivate its brethren. For what purpose they don’t know, and Din doesn’t care. Putting the droid in his sight, muscles tight around the amban rifle, Din squeezes a lifetime of pain behind the trigger.

A cloud of dust. No more droid.

He thought that would satisfy the roar in his chest, but back in the Crest he’s more of a caged animal than before. Malk tells them to enjoy a day on-world, and Varlo and Qin follow him out to the industrial maze of the city. Din knows he needs something tonight, a fight or a fuck or both, so he gathers enough credits to cover his proclivities and makes to leave the ship.

“Where are you biding your time, Mando?” Xi’an’s voice purrs in the low light of the cargo hold. She’s draped over a storage crate, inspecting her nails and flashing a devious look at him when his visor turns. “Going to finally lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t know what compels him to say it. Maybe the constant pressure on all sides, or the neverending sniping at his expense. He knows it’s a mistake the moment he opens his mouth.

“Been a long time since I called myself that.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash up to the visor. It spikes in his stomach.

“I find that hard to believe, Mando, with all the…” She waves her hands around her head, pulling a serious face that she can barely keep on. He should stalk off, leave her to pouting and him to pounding into something softer and sweeter than whatever this was.

But it’s been too long, and he’s itching for confrontation in a way he’s never desired before.

“I’m good with my hands,” he says, one coming up to rest on his belt buckle, tilting his head to the side. Xi’an lifts off the crate, circling him with the serpentine swish of her gait.

“Oh I can believe that. Seen you with those weapons, your ‘religion.’ Man who keeps them that well cared for must be attentive in…other ways.” She slinks around to stand in front of him, dragging her eyes over the broad expanse of durasteel on his chest, flaking paint and silvered scratches. She walks her fingers down his chest, stopping at his trim waist. “But that doesn’t mean you know how to use this.” Her hand flashes out to grope at his crotch but he snatches her wrist, jerking her hands up as she squeals. For a moment he thinks it’s in pain, but the glint in her eyes and the flash of tongue between her fangs reveals it’s excitement. Releasing her, he moves to exit the cargo hold and find something, anything, to calm the rushing of his blood.

“Oh Mando, come on, wait,” Xi’an pleads, skipping back in front of him and adopting an apologetic expression. “We’ve all been cooped up here too long, rubbing each other the wrong way.” This time her hands glances down his side, nails lightly scraping along his hips before she drifts them feather-light over his cock. The electricity of her touch burns in his groin, filling him quickly. “Let me make it up to you, Mando. Rub you the right way this time.”

“This is…not a good idea,” he grits through his teeth, common sense screaming at him to leave, but the many-toothed monster that lurks in the back of his mind drools at the feeling of her fingers getting bolder, now stroking her palm over his stiffening cock. The helmet tips back a fraction as Din’s eyes flutter, excuses melting back into the delicious heat of her touch.

“The best ideas are the bad ones,” she teases, sidling closer to him. Her breath is hot on the edge of his cowl, soft little sighs zinging down his spine as she swipes her thumb over the clothed head of his cock. He tries to suppress the groan but it comes out a whine instead, spurring her on more. “You could use some release. Let me suck your cock, Mando. I’ll trade you for a kiss.”��

This is a monumentally bad idea and his survival instinct kicks in just before the monster waiting in the darkness claws his way to the forefront.

“The helmet…stays on,” he grunts, backing up a half step. She rolls her eyes but triumph lives there now.

“Fine, fine, your precious Creed. Then how about I give you a hand, and next time I’m in need of one you return the favor?”

He struggles to take in a full breath, her fingers now wrapped around him and adding just enough pressure to spark in his pelvis and surge into his chest. He nods, fists clenching, as Xi’an’s smile breaks across her face.

“Oh Mando, how long have you been wanting this?” she purrs, sliding down his body to rest on her knees. Alarm bells sound in his mind. It’s too out in the open, too vulnerable. If Varlo or Malk or Qin, Maker forbid, came back he’d be caught and probably gutted. But the lap of her tongue along his waist as she opens the plaquet of his pants dissolves the worries into heady arousal as the monster he’s suppressed so long rears to life.

“Kriff,” he curses, tilting the helmet down to watch her pull his flushed cock out of his pants, thighs flexing when she coos over it.

“So you’ve got the goods to back up all that swagger,” she sing-songs, looking up at him through her lashes as blood pumps loud in his ears. The arousal he’s feeling is unlike his usual encounters. In those he’s simmering even when his frustration is at an all time high, his pleasure delayed in favor of watching them writhe and gasp with the force of the orgasms he pulls out of them. It gets him harder than anything else. But now, looking down at someone who makes his blood boil at any given moment, his libido is at a roar screaming at him to fuck and bruise and take. The force of it makes his heart pound, unfamiliar and exciting.

“If you’re only going to look at it, I’ll go somewhere else,” he growls, keeping his voice as level as possible. It does the trick, her smile sly before she licks a long path from base to tip. The shudder is involuntary, a hot wet mouth not something he usually seeks out. He prefers a dripping pussy to bury his frustrations in but the power this position yields makes all the lewd cantina talk he’s scoffed at come into focus.

“Patience, Mando,” Xi’an lightly scolds, but the thin wire of restraint he was still holding onto snaps. One large hand palms the back of her head, fingers digging into the edge of her head wrap for leverage. Her eyebrows lift in surprise just before Din presses his hips forward, breaching her lips with the head of his cock. He groans at the slick heat and the brush of her teeth over the ridge as he thrusts shallowly against her tongue. He thinks he sees a wrinkle of anger in her brow before her eyes flash with vengeance. She wraps her lips around him, sucking his head.

“I’ve had enough of waiting,” he grits out, pulling back a fraction before sliding in deeper, pressing her further down his shaft. Her hands come up to his hips, fingernails digging in as a warning. The sharp points of pain focus his arousal, the mix with pleasure intoxicating. “You wanted it so karking badly, you….take it,” he growls, his thrusts deepening again as she takes him even further. Hissing around his intrusion, teeth come down enough to scrape along his cock just shy of unpleasant.

“Oh no you don’t,” he punches out, his other hand pinching her jaw to force her mouth wide. The lack of resistance drives him down her throat, a loud gag heaving her chest. The sound shocks his system, pulling back quickly as drool drips down her chin with her gasps. Uncertainty falls heavy over his libido now.

“Are you…?” he starts to ask, but Xi’an yanks him back to her face, pumping his cock quickly with the thick saliva she’s left on it.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Afraid of a little mess?” she taunts before swallowing him down again, the rough gags of her throat beginning in earnest. He can feel her spit dripping down his length, sliding over his balls as she rolls them roughly in her hand. It’s nothing he’s ever felt fucking a woman before, frustration and anger burning him inside out. He palms her head again, thrusting with her own bobbing rhythm as she hums around his cock. His hips pump, thighs clenching, stomach quivering at the onslaught of sensations driving him closer and closer to his high. Hazarding another look at her, she laughs around his cock before pulling off.

“If I’d have known it would be this easy to make you fall apart…” she begins to say, but Din shoves his cock roughly back into her mouth.

“Shut up,” he pants, fucking into her face in earnest. His orgasm is on the brink, body convulsing around her prone form as the monster ruts and chases his end selfishly. His teeth are clenched so hard he tastes blood, puffing air through his nose and snarling behind the visor. Vision red around the edges, his control is long gone as he fights her sharp nails and encroaching teeth and wild eyes. The tiniest voice begs him to stop, to look at what he’s doing, but when he sees her kneading at her mound over her pants, bucking her own hips in time with his punishing thrusts, everything lets go. He cums with a bellow, holding her there as his spend empties into her mouth. He gasps, sweat rolling down his neck and spine, the helmet almost suffocating with the heat trapped inside.

When he pulls out Xi’an gasps and the gravity of the moment makes him stumble back. Tucking himself away he watches her cough on her knees, white streaks of his cum dribbling down her face to drip onto the durasteel floor. Once she catches her breath she looks up at him, and in her flashing eyes and feral smile he realizes something dark and devastating.

He wants to do it again.

Striding past to slam open the cargo bay doors, her roughened voice calls after him.

“That’s one on the books for me, Mando. I’ll come calling soon enough.”

His hands don’t stop shaking for hours.

Xi’an is right. It doesn’t take long for her to come to him.

A simple job gone bad, the target fleeing into hyperspace too quickly to follow. Xi’an had been seducing him in a flashy racetrack before he fled. Din had followed as her backup, watching her writhe on the target’s lap and whisper in his ear. Every now and then her eyes would flash to Din, holding the expressionless gaze of the visor as she guided another man’s hand to knead her breast.

He told himself it wasn’t supposed to affect him. He didn’t care what she did, or who touched her. The scene from that night played in his head wrapped in nausea and regret. No partner he’d ever laid with drew out that much uncertainty and self-loathing, and he wasn’t keen to return to it.

But her curves still called to him, now straddling the mark’s waist. Familiar stirrings pulled up hard against disgust as he pushed the ravenous monster back down. It had gotten louder, fiercer after taking his pleasure so brutally. It screamed to take her again.

All of her work led to nothing. The target caught Varlo stalking up to apprehend him and make a quick exit. Even with four highly skilled mercs after him his resources won out. A faster ship, quicker access to his speeder. He was just within their grasp when he blasted off and into the atmosphere.

Xi’an shrieked her frustration into the air as the team re-entered the Crest. Malk confirmed there was no point following. They’d try again when he showed up at whatever gambling circuit he fancied next. She couldn’t stop prowling the ship, head down, glaring through her lashes. Varlo got a few sharp swipes for giving away their plan, but he threw up his hands and moved into the engine bay to let her cool off. Qin reclined in his hammock, watching bemused as she tried to self-soothe with no luck.

“Mando!” she finally hisses, jerking her head sharply as she strides past him and out of the Crest. His shoulders stiffen instantly, her brother’s hot stare branding his back. Hazarding a look back, Qin’s raised eyebrow and smirk make his face burn. But he still follows.

Xi’an is around the front of the Crest, leaning against the landing gear and seething. Din comes close, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes rake over the helmet, snarl less playful and more agitated.

“I’m cashing in your debt, Mando,” she says, whipping her belt out of the loops so quickly it cracks. Din’s hands tighten on his, stance faltering.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” he murmurs, bracing for the impact of his words. They land hard on her skin, quick steps bringing them chest to chest.

“I don’t give a flying kark what you think. I gave you my throat to cum in, it’s your turn. Give me your cock.”

Din balks, trying to disentangle from the swirling vortex of rage, but her hands are small and quick to grab at the fabric around his neck.

“Or you can give me something else, Mandalorian. Show me your face if you won’t fuck me,” she snarls, grabbing for the edge of his helmet. He yanks her arm away, but the other tries just the same. He snags it in his fist, whipping his head back when she tries to knock the helmet off. Both wrists captured he pushes her back, pinning her against the landing gear. Her hips jerk against his own, legs kicking at his shins. Some blows land, leaving dark reminders for days to come. Her bared teeth and hissing finally push him to pin both of her hands with one of his, the other coming to firmly wrap around her throat.

That finally stops her, eyes fluttering as he puts just enough pressure on her windpipe to quiet her. Hips rolling against his hardening cock, he leans in to crowd her against the durasteel mechanics.

“Is this what you want?” he husks, removing his hand from her throat to shove into her pants. The fit is tight, his thick forearm and vambrace stretching the waistband, but his skilled fingers cup her hot cunt. Even with the gloves on he can find her clit, roughly circling as she gasps and rocks against him. “Needed this attitude fucked out of you?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans, hooking a leg behind his thigh to pull him closer. He yanks his hand out of her pants and pushes slick-soaked leather between her lips.

“Take them off, or I won’t,” he growls, waiting for her teeth to tug his gloves off his fingers. She stares at the tawny skin, all the silvery lines cross-crossing his knuckles and fingers. He tries not to dwell on this, on how she’s already pushed him past what he knows he shouldn’t do. Jamming his hand back into her pants he buries two fingers in her wet cunt, setting a fast and firm pace that has her crying out against his overwhelming hold. The monster snarls inside him, salivating at the prospect of rucking her pants down and…

“Mando, need your cock, need you to fuck me,” she whines, just short of begging. It knots his stomach that she knows how much she’s making him lose control. The rhythmic slap of his palm on her intimate flesh has him full and hard, grip tightening as he feels her walls spasm around his flexing fingers.

“Cum like this first and I’ll see if you deserve my cock,” he rasps, buying himself enough time to calm his raging libido a fraction. He shouldn’t fuck her, shouldn’t let this go on any longer than it already has, but his body is thrumming, snapping and snarling into her as she beckons him to let go, to find something blinding in her soaked cunt.

Her orgasm clamps down on his fingers suddenly, the raw shriek making him clap his hand over her mouth. The loss of his hands pinning her wrists gives ample opportunity to rush open his pants and find his weeping cock. A few well-placed strokes has his rational mind dissolving into the single-minded concept of fucking.

He bends her over the landing gear, tearing her pants down over her ass to expose her glistening pussy. Normally that sight makes his mouth water. Instead he tugs on his cock a couple times to prepare.

“Hurry up, Mando,” Xi’an whines, arching her back higher to present her hole to him. He pushes her chest down hard, a whoosh of air escaping before he sheaths his cock in her tight pussy. The momentary ecstasy of his slick entrance washes over him, planting both hands on either side of her head. His first thrust punches a moan from her lips, followed by a litany of curses and whines as he snaps his hips fast and hard. The loud smack of skin pulls out a thin moan of his own.

“Karking Maker, Mando, you feel so good,” Xi’an croons, a momentary lapse in vitriol. It makes Din chuckle as he grunts at her wet clutch.

“This all you needed? A cock to make you bearable?” he teases, angling his hips to drill into a spot inside he knows will make her scream. She gathers air before he shoves his sticky fingers into her mouth, pinching her jaw open as he penetrates her here too. Everything is dripping and liquid and hard and soft at the same time. His own orgasm is fast approaching, a roar in his ears that he chases with fervor.

“Gonna cum again,” Xi’an gasps around his fingers, slamming back against Din’s thrusts as she chases her own end. Two people so far inside but so far apart.

Din dutifully reaches between her legs and pinches her clit, sending her toppling over into a shuddering orgasm that clenches his cock so hard he has to pull out and cum all over her other tight hole. Lightheaded and heavy-limbed, Din tries to regain a semblance of control over the situation.

This is just returning the favor.

This won’t happen again.

He doesn’t want this to happen again.

Shuffling back, he uses his bare hand to scrape his cum off her ass and flick it on the ground. Xi’an pulls her pants back up as Din tucks himself away and turns to stride back into the Crest.

Stepping outside looking to be without a care in the world is Qin, licking Jogan fruit juice off his fingers as he discards the peel on the ground. Din’s whole body locks up, fight or flight response screaming at him to get away.

“Get a good eyeful brother?” Xi’an singsongs behind Din, walking past him to re-enter the ship. Qin mock-glares at her as she passes and saunters away. When his eyes land back on Din he waits for a fist or a blade to connect with his flesh. Instead Qin just shakes his head with an amused expression and follows his sister.

Dread lands heavy in Din’s belly. His grip is slipping and he’s not sure whether he’ll hang on or fall into something even harder to climb out of.

That was the last time, he says to himself as he leaves a freshly fucked Xi’an in the ‘fresher.

This time it’s over, he says as he splatters his cum on her tits.

Never again, he promises after he spills his load into her tight asshole, cursing to the Maker about how good she feels choking his dick.

He tries over and over to stop it, to tell her no, but every time she whines and needles and baits until he can’t help but bury his frustrations in her body.

It’s been months since he joined Malk’s crew, and the spoils of their missions were fat in his pocket. He knows he should sneak off to the covert, give them the credits needed to keep them safe. Or to Karga, pay him his cut of whoring out his Mandalorian. It itches in the back of his brain, the duties he’s supposed to be performing.

Instead, he ignores Karga’s messages on his holo. He spends the credits on upgrades to the Crest and Corellian whiskey and brothels. The last is in a desperate hope to rid him of his addiction to the purple Twi’lek plaguing his bed.

She stalks his days and haunts his nights, rarely away from each other. It makes it easy to let her straddle his waist in the tiny cubby of a bed and ride him until he’s dripping out of her. Sometimes she follows him when they’re on-world to the places where he spends his credits. The first time he caught her he made her watch as he fucked a plain but skilled prostitute. The following times, she joined him in his debauchery.

He tells himself it’s the last time every time, but the fire always returns. The itch under his skin. The monster that roars under Xi’an’s sharp nails and sharper tongue batters the inside of its cage and howls until Din can leave more marks on her skin. It’s feral and bloodthirsty. Definitely unhealthy.

He still can’t stop.

The bounty they lost finally turns up in a swanky hotel on Coruscant. Xi’an goes to complete the job, her cover not blown enough to approach the target again. Words and drinks pass between them before his hands are groping her beneath the table. They slink away together, Din’s helmet following their heat signatures. The man’s crotch is white fire, but Xi’an’s registers no hotter than her body temp.

Couldn’t even get her wet. He’d have her blazing by now.

Din waits for the signal to apprehend the target outside the closed hotel room. Long minutes tick by, Din’s imagination spinning wildly as he imagines the man’s fingers in her pussy, licking her clit like he can never do, spitting in her mouth like he sometimes imagines with a frightening tightness in his groin.

A trill sounds. Time for action.

Din bursts in, blaster pointed ahead of him to take in the lewd scene. Xi’an is naked on the bed, the target thrusting into her from behind. Her face is bored until she sees Din enter, lax posture trading for silky and sexy.

“What the kark-!” the target shouts, hands shooting up in surrender.

“Took you long enough, Mando, I had to put up with this paltry cock for much too long,” she sighs, arching her back and presenting her heavy tits between her arms.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” he rasps, modulator hiding the strain in his voice. Xi’an tuts, shaking her head.

“This is my mission, Mando, and I get to decide that.” She cocks her head at him, backing up against the target.

“Does it make you jealous, knowing he’s inside me right now?” she purrs, circling her hips to elicit a choked gasp. Din’s hand tightens on the blaster, forcing his posture to be neutral.

“You did what you had to,” he grits out. Xi’an shrieks out a laugh.

“I didn’t have to fuck him. I wanted to, because I wanted to see what you’d do when another man tries to cum inside me.”

Din’s arm begins to shake, and the monster snarls inside him. Mine, it roars. My fucked up little thing to break.

“What are you going to do, Mando?” she taunts, rolling her hips on the terrified man’s cock.

“What you want.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash in triumph.

“I want to bring him in cold.”

Din shoots a blaster bolt between the man’s eyes, toppling him over and onto the bedroom floor. Xi’an wastes no time crawling to the end of the bed and turning around, round ass in the air.

“Fuck him out of me, Mando.”

They pull orgasm after orgasm out of each other with a dead man on the floor. His blood stains one corner of the bedding, crimson as regret. When Din has her splayed out below him, tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts into her abused pussy, she croaks out a request.

“Take it off.”

He stills inside her, fire in his veins replaced by ice cold clarity.

“No.”

Xi’an snarls at him.

“Show me the face of the man that’s fucking me, Mandalorian.”

His hand comes up around her throat, a warning squeeze rougher than the ones he normally doles out. She quiets, but he has to flip her over to drill out his last orgasm. The disdain on her face is too much.

Seventeen missed holos from Karga. Shadows that follow him when he strides through town. And yet Din can’t pull his head above water. The light get fainter every time. During one mission he freezes in front of a snarling attack massiff and for a blissful moment wonders if its bite would kill him if he bared his throat. Varlo fells it instead, giving Din a confused look as they return to the Crest.

“You been sleeping, Mando? You seem off.”

Din bristles, stride widening.

“Don’t pretend that matters to you.”

Varlo shrugs, veering off to speak to Ranzar. The anger masks the anguish until later that night, when Din begs for the thoughlessness of sleep.

“Need some company, Mando?” Xi’an asks, like she does most nights.

It’s better than guilt, at least.

It’s not long after Xi’an’s hunt that Qin climbs up into the cockpit while Din is piloting. They just entered hyperspace, the streaks of light soothing Din. The quiet sinks into his bones, contrasted against the dread of re-entering the cargo hold. The air is thick with boredom and potential energy waiting for a spark.

He’s turning to leave, find somewhere to escape for a few more moments of peace, when Qin clears his throat. He stands in the doorway, leaning against it with folded arms. Din stills, a standoff between the two men. He was wondering when he might have to endure this conversation.

“Whatever is going on between you and my sister,” Qin starts, right to the meat of the matter. Din respects that he doesn’t pull punches. “You need to figure it out soon. You may be having the time of your life fighting…and fucking.” He sneers at this, making Din’s face scorch under the helmet. “But the longer she thinks something is going to come out of it, the worse it will be when you tell her no.” Qin shifts to stand chest to chest with Din. They’re close in height but in this moment Din feels small and sacrificial.

“She doesn’t like being told no. I’m sure you’ve seen that.”

He has. The helmet is the symbol of his refusal, and Xi’an seethes at it. More than once he’s had to pin her hands down, too bold in her touches. Some days she playfully grabs at the lip, pulling him down to her level, but doesn’t let go quick enough for Din’s liking. Other times she lays her hands on either side and it feels tender. Her eyes soften, and Din wonders if there’s a hurt girl under all the posturing that wants proof that he cares for her.

He’d told her once, as they laid in a post-coital tangle. The Creed, the helmet, why it meant so much to him. He didn’t speak of the covert, or of any other Mandalorians. They both have their own secrets.

“It’s a symbol of my fidelity,” he said. Xi’an lifted up on one elbow and studied the sharp lines and curves of the helmet, fingers tracing the impressive profile.

“How beautiful it must be, to have someone so devoted,” she murmured. “What a gift.”

It’s one he can never give her, and she can never forget it.

“If you aren’t planning on giving her what she wants,” Qin husks, leaning in with a steely gaze. “Don’t drag it out. Make it professional.”

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, the weight of his words now on Mando’s shoulders. Qin has never been kind, but his ultimatum is a balm to Din’s anguish. He needs to end it. If he believes her to have any gentleness underneath her posturing it would be cruel to continue. There is no room in his devotions for her.

The monster inside his chest finally soothes, curls into a ball and sleeps.

She doesn’t take it well.

“You want this to stop?” she laughs, lounging against a tree. Din had deigned to tell her away from the others, wanting privacy and space for her anger to hit a flash point.

“We’re professionals. This is too messy,” Din says, keeping his voice as even and calm as he can. Her face changes from incredulity to anger.

“This isn’t over just because you get a crisis of conscience.” She pushes off the tree and stalks towards him, suspicion coloring her demeanor. “Did my brother say something to you?”

That’s a trap he’s not going to walk into.

“I can’t give you what you want,” Din says, holding his ground as she comes chest to chest, much like her sibling. How alike they are in their ruthlessness.

“Of course you can. You’ve got a perfectly good cock and talented fingers and some Maker-blessed stamina. Plus you’re filthy,” she purrs, raising goosebumps on Din’s neck. “What else does a girl need?”

Din tilts his head, watching her closely as he sees the shroud of the lie settle.

“The helmet,” he sighs, exasperated. His words hit the target. Xi’an’s features twist, shocked out of her feigned nonchalance.

“You’re ending this over a stupid little symbol?” she spits out, circling him like a prowling loth-cat. Din tenses, tempted to follow her path but knowing she’ll take advantage of it. He prepares for a blade.

“I won’t remove it for you. And I’m done fighting you trying to do it yourself.”

There’s a moment where he sees the hurt girl he’s trying to spare. It’s quickly raked back with fury. She hisses, digging her fingers into his cowl and yanking him backwards. He stumbles to his knees, his cape now wrapped around her forearms as she cuts off his air .

“All your morals and high ground as you’re spilling as much blood as we are, Mando. Defiling my body as you pray to your Creed. You’ll be crawling back to my cunt in no time, and I’ll slit your throat before I let you make a fool out of me.” Just as his vision begins to darken she releases her hold, letting painful lungfuls of air back into his chest. One boot kicks him square in the back, and he topples forward into the dirt.

“You’ll regret this, Mandalorian.”

She storms off to the Crest, leaving him gasping and coughing. He wishes, not for the first time, that he never shook Malk’s hand, never let them onto the Crest, never let Karga talk him into this.

He wishes for time to stop, to take back everything the last months had carved out of his soul. For a bed, and a soothing touch.

(where is she now? Could she ever look at him the same way, after all he’s done?)

“New assignment,” Malk calls down, a groan of relief lifting the mood in the hold. “Big yield, and even bigger hush money.”

Qin grins, jostling his sister as Malk descends to them. She nods, listless since their argument. Din prefers that to the rage. It still pulls at a confusing feeling in his chest, something akin to regret.

“Where we off to? I’ve been itching to get out of this karking morgue,” Varlo gripes, taking the holopad from Malk.

“Cleanup effort on Alzoc III. There’s some mines infested with a local species the mining company needs cleared out. Not sentient, but territorial. Mando, need you in the air. Varlo, running logistics. Qin, Xi’an, you’re with me doing ground work.”

Din rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles. A big haul should set everyone up for a good while. Improve spirits, and maybe give him the boost to break away from this group that only becomes more hostile by the day. His silence will cost him, but with enough credits he may be able to buy himself back into the covert, and the Guild’s good favor.

Alzoc III it is.

The planet is icy and hostile, vast snow-swept tundras and sharp peaks slicing up into the permanently gray skies. The harsh weather eats up heat from the outside in, the Crest’s life support systems working overtime to keep the interior above freezing. Din had to pull out a heavier flight suit, the other crew members donning furs and goggles in preparation for the mission. Xi’an had taken to glaring at Mando any time he was in the room, so he’d stayed in the cockpit for most of the trip. Malk had scoffed at him, standing behind the pilot’s chair as Din maneuvered them out of hyperspace.

“Women problems, Mando?”

Din did not deign to give him an answer, but Malk persisted.

“Not a good idea to mix business and pleasure. A man of your experience should be more careful,” he says, clapping a hand on Din’s paudron. He tenses, but Malk releases him quickly after and heads into the tense hold with a snicker under his breath.

Din can’t wait to have the Crest to himself. Months of close quarters were making him itchy with tension, a constant frenetic thrum under his skin that he can’t even fuck out now. Varlo’s company would be silent at least. Plus a simple point-and-shoot mission has its appeal. The rest of the dossier states that the mines are overrun to the point that they can’t send in crews to extract the planet’s precious commodities.

Varlo plots a multi-stage assault; Malk, Xi’an and Qin would place bombs at mine entrances and pick off anything that could tip off the plan. Once at their sniper posts, Din would aerial attack the mines from above, detonating the bombs and dropping his own payloads to collapse strategic parts of the tunnels. The mining company provided blueprints, and designated the choke points that would create the least amount of cleanup effort for them after the fact.

In retrospect, when Din’s nightmares push into this shadowy period of his life, it was so well thought out it should have made him pause. They didn’t need highly skilled mercenaries, they needed bodies to carry out this plan. What the company really bought was silence, and anonymity.

Din circles the Crest just out of range of the mines, waiting for the go signal from Malk. Varlo lounges in the jump seat, occasionally speaking through his communicator. Din doesn’t much enjoy conversing with Varlo, so of course this is the time he decides to be chatty.

“So, was she purple like…all over?” Varlo says, raising the hackles on Din’s back.

“You can ask her yourself. I’m sure she’d love to tell you,” Din replies calmly, banking a little harder to the left than he means to. Varlo chuckles low in his throat, his gaze burning into Din’s back.

“I mean I could, but it’s more professional curiosity. I’m surprised she hasn’t gutted you in your sleep yet.”

“Mando, time to shine!” Malk’s voice rings from the Crest’s holocomm.

“Roger,” Din murmurs, the muscle memory of his training kicking in as the Crest dives into the valley. Everything that’s plagued him for months - the loss of control, the cloying atmosphere, Xi’an’s magnetic push and pull - all fades into the background when he’s flying. His shoulders loosen, grip on the controls firm but relaxed. The lift and dip of the Crest is a familiar dance, lapping waves on a beach he’s never visited but somehow always knows.

Then the first explosion appears through the transparisteel, and he dives into action.

The entire assault lasts maybe a quarter hour. Each explosion triggered by Malk is timed with another bomb Varlo releases out the cargo doors. The more powerful weapons hit their mark, miles of tunnels collapsing with shifting snow to fill in the depressions. Sometimes a small group of moving creatures - barely perceptible - burst from an entry, and the on-ground team quickly eradicates them. Din isn’t even sure he feels the cold creeping into the ship, too wrapped up in the warmth of a skill he’s honed for decades being used to its utmost ability.

“That’s it, Mando, we’ll bring her down to pick up the rest at the hanger pad.” Varlo indicates a vast stretch of buildings, no doubt some shipping operation, with a generous landing zone. Din wonders how much trade must happen on this desolate planet, and how pitiful their price must be compared to the credits the company rakes in.

Once landed, Varlo leaves to speak with their contact and provide a final report. Malk gets the payment, but he’ll be a little while traipsing across the frozen grounds. Din takes the lack of anyone on his ship as a brief moment of respite, checking for any potential damage and wandering through the cluttered living space. His annoyance at the mess is less than usual, the silence after a job well done vastly improving his mood.

Deeper in the ship checking on engine function, Din hears a clatter. His shoulders slump again. He’d hoped for a little more peace and quiet before they returned. Trudging out to the cargo bay, he’s met with an even stranger sight.

Varlo left the cargo door open, the windbreak from the surrounding buildings keeping the elements at a minimum. Instead of the crew ascending the ramp, two furred creatures freeze just inside the warmth of the Crest. The larger one puts its body between Din and the smaller one, four black pearl eyes locked on him. His hand itches to grab his blaster, absolutely certain these are the creatures infesting the mines. They’re supposed to be hostile, ferocious and powerfully strong. He might be able to take one, but two could be a problem. He steels himself for a charge, but the larger one holds up one long-clawed hand, three fingers spread in the universal symbol for wait.

Din stops, confusion and a cold pit of dread opening in his stomach. The larger creature looks back at the smaller one, stroking its face as they make high pitched chirps and buzzes at each other through strange tubular mouths. Their fur is matted white and gray, easy to blend in on the tundra, as they tower taller than most bipedal creatures Din has encountered. The brief conference concluded, the larger creature rummages in its fur.

Din snaps his hand to his blaster, unholstering it in a flash to point at the creatures. The smaller one squeals - Din swears it’s in terror - and the larger one whips its head up to look at Din. It stills, one hand now held out overflowing with baubles. Din’s blaster falters as the creature takes a tentative step forward, offering lustrous milky pearls. His throat closes up, but his training keeps his weapon on them. At his lack of movement the creature looks back at the smaller one, urging it forward. It holds their faces together, foreheads touching as plaintive whines cut through the air. The pearls transfer, and the larger of the two urges the smaller forward.

Din can’t breathe, chest banded with horror. The littler creature holds out the offering, clicking and chirping as the larger one waits back. It’s all too clear to a man who lost his family in a war he did not understand what this transaction is, and what the consequences of his actions means. He drops the blaster, stepping towards the creatures. They shrink back in fear, but the little one still holds out shaking hands, pearls dropping to clink on the durasteel floor.

“I…” he says, heart hammering in his throat. The larger one - the mother, he thinks - raises its head with something like hope.

“What the kark?!” Varlo shouts, ascending the ramp. Din tries to speak, to explain that everything has gone so wrong in a handful of moments, but Varlo’s blaster is already out.

Three bolts, loosed with deadly efficiency, and the smaller creature falls, pearls scattering on the floor and rolling away. The shriek of the larger creature will haunt Din for years, as clear as the day he heard it when he finds another pearl lost in the ship.

“No!” Din screams, but Varlo is already turning to the charging creature. Three powerful swipes knock him down, blood spurting into snow, before he fells the creature with another series of blaster bolts. Then it’s just Din, gasping amongst the gore. Sobs wrench his throat, hot tears running down his cheeks as he shakes on his feet.

“Fuck, Mando…need…kit,” Varlo gasps. The creature cut him deep, flashes of white bone peeking through the layers of flesh. Blood dribbles from his lips, teeth stained red as he struggles to breathe. His voice is faraway and tinny, but Din’s body answers. He walks numbly to Varlo’s side, kneeling beside the man’s mutilated body.

“They were sentient,” he says, and the horror blends into anger, one hotter and more encompassing than any he’s ever felt.

“Get me a Maker-damned bacta shot!” Varlo burbles, a rough cough spraying blood on Din’s chestplate. He’s not sure when he decided to slit Varlo’s throat, but one moment he’s alive, the next he’s laid out with unseeing eyes, the messy slash of a vibroblade mimicking the brutal claw marks.

He doesn’t remember moving the creatures’ bodies, laying them down on the icy ground outside the Crest.

He doesn’t remember what he tells the others when they return. Xi’an and Qin stalk by, barely affected. Malk chews the inside of his cheek, staring at Varlo’s corpse for a few moments before entering the Crest.

“Split is four ways now. First come first serve to his things. We take off in 5.”

Din doesn’t recall where his body was during takeoff, or once they got into hyperspace. The events play like a holovid missing an actor, feelings and sensations eerily absent. He thinks he piloted them off world, attributed to muscle memory. He remembers a conversation, but not with who, or why it began.

“The species was sentient. They tried to barter to get on the ship.”

“Mando….”

“One attempted to sacrifice itself for the other. An animal can’t do that.”

“We got paid not to ask questions.”

“That wasn’t a mission. That was genocide.”

“You’ve done worse, Mando. We all have.”

Except that wasn’t true. In the song of Din Djarin, this would always be his greatest sin.

One tip to the New Republic was all it took. A set of coordinates and a date and time. Malk wanted to gamble and whore after Alzoc III, and Qin and Xi’an had no qualms. Din only sat silently, the days since the genocide bleeding into one another. Xi’an had tried to tease him about it - seems like you lucked out against those claws - but his cold turn of the head and quick exit quieted her tongue.

He waited for them to leave, credits in hand, before reporting their whereabouts to the New Republic garrison. He conveniently left himself and the Crest out, detailing his crewmates’ crimes and exactly where they would be. Then he laid low, waiting for enough time to pass so as to not arouse suspicion.

He would not see Qin or Malk for many more years, though he’d hear of their escape from some Guild contacts. Not much could hold either of them for long. Xi’an didn’t leave him so quietly.

“Karking traitor!” she screams, leaping on his back outside of the Crest. A blade sinks into his shoulder, ripping a cry from his lips. She pulls it out and drives it back in his bicep, his hands scrabbling to throw her off. She gets him two more times before he crushes her against the Crest’s hull, knocking her grip loose. His left arm is screaming, blood pouring down his fingers.

“After all we did for you, you turned us in?!” Her knife hits home again, swinging to stab into his calf and the meat of his thigh in quick succession. Din disarms her, skittering the knife away, before landing a blow in the center of her chest that, with a little more force, could have stopped her cruel heart. She lies gasping on the ground, eyes wide and wild as they look at him towering over her. For a moment that uncomfortable feeling pulls at him again, something like regret and remorse and a mourning of what could have been. It weakens him enough to kneel down, body screaming.

“I’m sorry…” he tries to say, the next words lost in his turmoil. Sorry for starting whatever fucked-up thing they had between them? Sorry for not being able to give her what she wanted? Sorry for how it was destined to end?

Another blade sinks into his side, ripping down as she screeches.

“You are nothing but a traitor, Mandalorian. Betrayer of your allies, of your Creed. I hope your Maker-damned helmet ends up in the gutter with your corpse.”

He yanks the blade free, head dizzy at the realization that much of his blood is on the ground instead of inside him. He puts one hand around Xi’an’s neck and squeezes down. She’s out in seconds, dragged to the hangar entrance for the New Republic guards to find. Safe or not, he takes off with the Crest and manages to close up enough of his wounds with the cauterizer to stop the bleeding, burnt flesh singing his nostrils. He blindly dials in coordinates for Nevarro, barely staying conscious through the jump. Once autopilot kicks in he dips into darkness.

The Guild takes him back. Begrudgingly. He pays his dues and offers them the pearls the creature spilled across the hold. Their value surprises him, almost annoyed he didn’t save some for himself, but the thought of his own pockets lined with treasures given by the dead chills his blood. He leaves them all with Karga, and waits for the distrust to fade from his face.

The covert welcomes him back with disapproval. His wounds spare him for a few weeks, sequestered from the rest of his people. It makes him ache, the obvious disappointment of his alor and the wariness of his fellow Mandalorians. The rumors swirl about where and why he was gone so long, why their beroya would betray them. He takes his penance, every blow and setback and humiliation. It is no worse than how he punishes himself.

When he returns to the Crest, tucked in the back of a trusted hangar, the mess strewn about the hold claws at his throat. He removes every memory of those months, setting belongings and refuse outside the cargo doors for scavengers to pick through. Even his own personal items make it into the pile, the memories attached to them too painful.

He cleans the ship top to bottom. No more hammocks strung from every corner. No more constant noise. No more ever-mounting tension. Just durasteel and silence.

It takes a full day to bring the Crest back to pre-Malk condition. The darkness surrounds Din, and after weighing the pros and cons of returning in the night he closes the cargo door. Shuttling open the small cubby sleeping space, he crawls in and settles on his side. The door slides shut with the lights dimming soon after.

Din lies there as his body slowly quiets, his armor digging into his sore shoulder, tender ribs and neck. Piece by piece he removes it, laying the shining examples of his honor beside him. The helmet is last, and it’s the first time in months he’s been able to breathe without it inside his own ship. The pillow is measly under his head, but he sinks down with a sigh. Arms tucked into his chest, knees pulled up to his stomach, surrounded by the walls of his ship and nothing else, he lets himself mourn the deeds he’d done. It will be far from the last time, but this is the rawest, the most painful as he let the shame grip him. Once exhaustion wins the hums and whirrs of the Crest lull him to sleep.

Din doesn’t tell you about Xi’an. It’s a lie of omission - you never prod him on his past, and he rarely asks about yours. There’s no reason to dredge up pain. If you want to offer something you do, and if you truly ask him he’ll offer pieces of his own. But you’re not swapping stories around the fire. So he sees no reason to tell you.

Until one day, he does.

It was the perfect sandstorm of triggers. A child snarling at her brother, then squealing out a laugh that cuts through his head. The singing of blades through the air as some men toss them at a target. A purple Twi’lek between you and Din, reaching out a hand to clap your shoulder. Din’s hurried steps bring him to your side in record time, helmet tilted down in challenge but the Twi just looks at him curiously and takes a step back. Your own brow knits, a bag of supplies in hand.

He tries to center himself back on the Crest, busying his racing thoughts with jump calculations and messages to contacts about the Jedi. It works until you climb up to the cockpit, leaning against the console as he turns his attention to you.

“Bean found something in the ship, I thought it might be important,” you say, holding out your upturned palm.

A pearl.

He thought he’d found them all, but the child’s nosiness unearthed one last bloody memory. He freezes, hands tight on the console.

“Been holding onto some treasure?” you tease, but your face is uneasy as you sense the tension in the air. “I’ll put it somewhere safe, maybe we can barter it…”

“No,” Din rebukes sharply, snapping the visor to you. Your eyes widen, chest curling in on yourself.

“Okay,” you say quietly, hand closing around the painful object. Din slumps, leaning forward and hanging his head.

“I’m sorry, it’s…nothing good will come of that. It was bought with blood,” he says quietly.

“So are most things on the Crest,” you say, wrapping your arms around your middle. Din heaves in a breath.

“Not the same kind.”

And so he tells you the story of Ranzar Malk and his employment, of the acidic crew and the six cloying months he spent with them. Of Xi’an and her allure, and the pain it caused. Of Alzoc III. Of the pearls.

You listen in silence, watching as Din relates his darkest story. The shame burns his skin, eats at his stomach, sours his tongue. How can he possibly redeem himself in your eyes after this? Would you ever look at him the same again?

Once he finishes, and the quiet of the ship pervades, you move to stand between his parted knees. Two hands settle on his shoulders, and without reservation he wraps his arms around and lays his head just below your breasts. The rhythmic inhale-exhale of your breathing cools his pain.

“Have you seen any of them since?” you ask. Din huffs out a sigh.

“Malk hired me for a job a few months back. Didn’t tell me the mission, just relied on a debt being repaid and the Crest still flying.” Din shifts against you, considering leaning away, but your firm hands keep him held to your chest.

“Was it bad?”

“We were rescuing Qin from a prison ship. Xi’an was there, set me up to be killed by the new team. I left them there.” After the draining retelling, he can’t bring himself to extrapolate on the tense reunion.

Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand.

I did what I had to.

Oh, but you liked it.

You were hired to do a job, so do it.

Isn’t that your code?

Aren’t you a man of honor?

“Thank you for telling me,” you finally say, stroking your thumbs along the line of his shoulders. “That was…difficult. To tell, I’m sure. It was hard to hear.” Din fists your shirt, squeezing his eyes closed at what will surely come.

“You made decisions and you’ve suffered the consequences of them.” You cup the back of his neck through his cowl. “And if you think I haven’t made a terrible decision about who to trust, I have stories I can share. Later,” you say, lightness in your voice. It makes Din lean back to look at your face. If you could see his, you would know his mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and wet, as you stroke the sharp lines of his helmet. You’re the only one he trusts to touch.

“Did you think I would hate you for this?” you ask, and Din’s nod is barely perceptible but you feel it. “You’ll surprise me, and terrify me many more times Mando, but you’ll never drive me away. The galaxy is only shades of gray.”

He lets you hold him for a time, hands soothing on his worn body. Your acceptance doesn’t heal him. By now he’s not sure anything will. But it balms the wound enough to breathe easier.

It’s the beginning of letting himself know you, and be known by you. When you say that your best friend taught you how to skip rocks, he asks how you met her. When you look on in wonder as he dresses a piece of game, he explains how his buir taught him survival hunting. And when the child wraps his tiny claw around Din’s thumb and he strokes it gently, you ask him if he has a son somewhere.

“No,” Din answers, the child warm in his arm and your body close enough to coax into his, if he would dare let himself want it. “But the Creed states the importance of caring for foundlings, and raising warriors.”

You hum and smile, turning back to your task, and for a moment much longer than fleeting, Din lets himself wonder if this is what a clan is supposed to feel like, and when it grew from two to three.

END

Interlude 2 of the I Think of You series

48 notes · View notes