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mjanelupinblack · 2 months

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starving creatures | chapter one 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

fic playlist 🖤

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: like i said, slowburn as f*ck. you'll have to wait to have fun with jun and hao but it'll be worth it if you bare with me. also i am having so much fun writing this omg ^_^ english isn't my first language and i don't have beta readers so kind feedback is welcome <3

CHAPTER 1

Joshua Hong had been the first for many things in his life: the firstborn, the first brother to complete his education, the first student among his classmates to perform a solo surgery, and one of the first doctors to try chloroform for his medical procedures, as anesthesia wasn't nearly as developed as it is now.

He was also the first one to be turned.

No other outcome could have been expected. People like him - young, enthusiastic, seemingly blessed by the gods - had to have some divine punishment waiting for them. Josh's penance would be to live forever with his luck... and to have it slowly fade into misfortune.

As a doctor, he never thought life could be eternal. He had witnessed all types of miracles at Paris Salpêtrière, but no soul had ever gotten to escape the sweet lullabies of death. At first, he felt terrible about it. Doctor Pierre had told him to get used to it, as God only gives special treatment to his friends. Little did he know, Pierre was a close friend of Him. He didn't notice it until he found himself digging a blade into his tutor's jugular vein.

No pulse could be found, but Pierre's breaths were still steady.

"Let's go, Josh! Everything's packed!" Vernon shouted as he got into the driver's seat.

"Do we really have to go through this again?" Jun complained, as if it would change anything. For the last time, he stared at the California house that had been their home for the past ten years.

He always got too attached.

"C'mon, man, you know it's better this way," Vernon replied.

From the passenger seat, Joshua looked at them. Minghao rubbed his brother's back and gently pushed him into the car despite his deep and frustrated sighs. This might be the worst part. But upon reflection, the worst part might also involve the one where locals started noticing their lack of aging, leading him to search for a new town.

"Jun, you can't be mad..." Vernon tried.

"Hum, yes, I can be mad," Jun countered. "And I can't believe you all think it's possible to move from California to this nowhere town."

"This 'nowhere town' is called Forks, alright? And it's your new home, so you better get used to it."

Nowhere Town. That's a good name, as it reflected all the peace Joshua had been praying for since Junhui and Minghao joined his and Vernon's odd nomadic, supernatural-like lifestyle.

"It's always cloudy there. You'll get to hang out more often with your friends."

"Sorry, what friends?" Jun asked sarcastically.

"You'll make friends eventually, Jun. Stop whining," Minghao said.

You didn't believe Forks was the best town in the world either. The landscape, always covered by mist and the ground sticky wet from the most recent storm, looked exactly as it did when you were born. You finished cleaning the house an hour before the awaited arrival. The large windows were all cleaned, not a single stain preventing passersby from catching a glimpse inside.

The house was empty for now, as it had been since the heartbreaking death of the previous inhabitants. You sat by the porch, trying to catch your breath and wondering what the new family looked like. Were they old? Were they nice? Certainly, they wouldn't want anyone to disturb them, otherwise, they would have chosen to live closer to the town center.

Surrounded by trees and animals, your aunt's house was known for attracting people who appreciated solitude.

That's the first thing you learned about Minghao.

There is a van approaching from a distance. The new renters arrived half an hour earlier than you planned. You stand up quickly, shaking the dirt off your pants when, for the first time, you see his face.

You won’t be able to forget that face.

"Y/N, right? We talked on the phone yesterday," one of the guys says. There are four of them now. By his introduction, you supposed you are talking to Mr. Chwe.

"Yes! It's so nice to meet you all, Mr. Chwe."

You shake his hand, surprised to find Mr. Chwe, a doctor, looks more like a student who just pulled an all-nighter.

He also has the temperature of an old man.

"Just Vernon, please," he said.

You had a speech planned, but right now you're having trouble remembering what you were going to say. There's a man behind Vernon who looks at you with tender and compassionate eyes. You assume he's Joshua, the one who responded to your emails.

"I'm so sorry my aunt couldn't make it today. As I told you, she's been sick. It would be difficult for her to climb all the way up here. I'll give you the tour, if you're comfortable with it."

Vernon shows his understanding. The same goes for Joshua, who breaks into a sincere smile and thanks you for being so attentive. It's almost as if they're acting like parents. And then, there are the kids...

"Actually, I'm tired. I'm sure we can figure out the house ourselves."

"I could really use some sleep."

"We've stayed in bigger houses anyway."

"Jun, Hao... Enough of that."

Jun and Hao; you're not sure which one takes your breath away more. With their silky, white, shoulder-length hair, they stand in the woods like fairies in a fairytale.

But you imagined fairies to be... more polite, perhaps.

"It's okay. It must have been a long ride for them. I'll leave you to rest." You tranquillize Mr. Chwe with a smile, but think, Morons, in your head.

Almost as if he heard what you said, Jun's face contorts in a gesture that appears both surprised and offended.

"Do you all see that little house right there?" you ask, pointing down into the distance past the trees. "That's where I live. Just call me if you need anything. We're the only neighbors you have around, besides the Boo Family. Oh, and I almost forgot. They asked me to leave you a present since they won't be able to come and say hello today. I left it inside."

"A present?" Minghao asks, his forehead furrowed and a fucked up temper. It's as if you'd just left a bomb or something in their kitchen.

You feel small under his gaze.

"Yes... it's just a beautiful mirror."

•••

Vernon was the second one to get turned.

He graduated from uni, having already killed a man. He tasted his blood, vomited to stop feeling sick, but then got the imperious need to drink from him again.

“Who the hell is this Boo Family?” Jun asks once they get to the house. The mirror is still covered in the living room. There’s no use in unwrapping it as they can’t use it anyways.

“Some old friends.” Vernon answers, face paler than usual.

He made a vow to never to steal a life again. No matter how hungry he was, no matter how weak he could get, he had a strong set of values he planned to spend the rest of his non-desired eternity with, even if people told him it wasn’t the natural thing to do.

“Explain yourself.”

“No explanation needed… Just go to your room, Jun.”

“Are you grounding me or something? I thought we were over with all this weird family shit.”

“I could be your grandfather, how is that weird to…”

“Boo Seungkwan is the man who brought Vernon into this life, okay?” Joshua explains.

Josh had been his mentor. Studying hard for his degree, Vernon was only seven years younger than him and had a mind full of dreams. One of them was to become a doctor as brilliant as Joshua, which, after a lot of sacrifice, he did. But he never thought his desire to be like Joshua would put him into a world so dark and twisted. When he said he wanted to be like Joshua, he never imagined… this.

“There’s your answer.” Vernon says.

He wouldn’t have endured sane this long without Joshua as a friend.

“Don’t worry, mate, we are leaving this place.”

The house is big. Of course, they lived in much larger houses than your auntie’s, as Jun said. But this house… There is wood covering the walls and enormous trees blocking the sunlight from the windows.

Vernon asks himself, is it always going to be like this?

Will Josh and he finally be able to take daytime shifts? Will they be able to walk around town without having to worry about deadly eruptions on their skins?

Sunglasses and long sleeves, then they are ready to go. The offer is tempting.

“There’s no need.”

“What do you mean?” Joshua asks in disbelief.

“I mean… We already paid the girl.”

“And she can keep the money. We’re leaving.”

Jun seems thrilled. What will their new location be? Bahamas? Maybe France? Oh, he loves pain au chocolat! Now it is gonna be great.

“I want to give it a try, Josh,” Vernon says, much to Jun’s disgrace. “Yejin is dead. And there’s no other reason for the Boo family to attack me again.”

“Yejin? Like your ex-friend Yejin?” Minghao asks.

“More like the maniac, out-of-her-mind-obsessed-with-Vernon, Yejin.” Joshua corrects.

“How did you know about her, Hao?”

“I might have stumbled upon your diaries once. But then we moved, and I don’t know where you hide them anymore. So I’m kinda stuck in the middle of the tale.

“Well, well, well… Looks like we know very little of each other to be part of the same family, Mr. Chew. Or should I call you Doctor?”

Jun disappears from the room, not caring for Joshua, who wants to say something to him. Even if he couldn’t move at this dazzling speed, he would’ve been able to escape the situation with equal grace.

That’s the way he is.

“Welcome to Forks, then.”

•••

“So… the new renters are a piece of shit.” your friend Cheol says. It's nice to catch up after a whole summer apart, not seeing or hearing anything from him.

Your ankles ache from the cold wind that bites as you walk the last stretch to school.

“That’s not what I said,” you explain. “The doctors were very nice to me. But the young ones… This guy Jun was in a terrible mood and treated everyone like shit. The other brother was…”

Threatening? But gut-wrenchingly beautiful? Eyes so deep like sinking ships after crashing with an iceberg?

“…a bit serious, I don’t know. When the doctors asked me if there was a highschool nearby, I thought I'd get to make some friends.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough of a friend?”

Okay, that was a low blow and you need to respond to it.

“The whole summer you went missing. So yes, at some point your friendship felt short for me.”

Many years of friendship taught you that you can open up with Cheol whenever you feel sad or lonely. You arrive at school and identify some of the friends he spent the whole summer with. A sight escapes your mouth. You love the guys, but you kinda wish your alone time with Cheol would have lasted longer.

And he notices.

“We can hang out later. Just you and me,” he promises, grabbing both of your hands. “We can sneak and spy on this jackasses’ house. Then you’ll watch them nose-picking and realize they’re not that big of a deal.”

“Voyeurism? That 's the date?”

Cheol pinches your nose in between his fingers and smiles playfully. Same old smile. Same old gesture that makes you feel safe. Even after a whole summer of not knowing what the hell is going on in his head.

“I know you. Don’t act like you don’t like to get into other people’s lives.”

Touché. You admit there’s a certain rush of adrenaline growing in your veins whenever you think about getting into your new renters’ intimacy. There's a certain power that comes with knowing about other people's secrets. Even when you don’t plan to use any of those against them.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I take it as a yes.”

“Take it as a maybe I'd rather go grab some coffee and not do such creepy things!”

You hit your friend in the arm playfully. When they see you coming, the gang welcomes you with a hug and some cheering. Hoshi tells you about how your best friend drank his blood’s weight in beer and none of the parties were near as entertaining as when you are there to join them.

You don’t believe him. You know he’s only saying this to make you feel better. But you have nothing against white lies when they serve their purpose.

“Maybe invite me next time?” you say, knowing that you are asking for the impossible.

Soonyoung looks at Dino, who answers without saying a word. Cheol pulls you closer to him. Silent and almost surrounding you with his arms.

“I really don’t think you’d like it,” Soonyoung says. “Plus you’ve been busy training, from what I heard.”

Of course. Training. You are not sure what Soonyoung must have heard about it, or who he must have heard it from. But this summer, you have been leaving your house at five in the morning everyday with the intention of running your sacred five miles before seven a.m—or whatever number of miles you could do before starting to feel like you’re about to pass out. It has been awesome; wind whipping your skin and not a single thought crossing your head. Just a pleasant sensation of hurt that would leave your legs shaking and your mind blank.

After that, you’d return home just in time to give your auntie her meds.

And then you’d like to run away again.

“Are you getting into a competition or something?” Dino asks.

“Nah. I was just doing it to clear my mind. But who knows… I’m fast.”

“Maybe I could help your train then”

Around the corners, or maybe even a couple of blocks away, there’s a soul with the extramundane ability of hearing your thoughts and sayings with just the gaze of your silhouette.

“Hum… who the hell are you?” Seungcheol asks him.

He wasn't there just minutes ago. You must have been too lost in your own thoughts as the sight of your neighbor makes your heart skip a beat.

Maybe he wants you to introduce him?

“Guys, this is Jun. My auntie rented the house to his family, so he and his brother are new here.”

“Great way to introduce yourself, mate. You’re an asshole, from what I heard?”

You step over your friend’s foot, hoping to subtly silent him. Damn, Seungcheol has a big mouth.

“Actually, I’m here to apologize,” Jun says, much to your surprise. And then he looks at you like no one else is there. “My manners weren’t the best. We had a long trip from California so I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“California? You’re a ghost, man.”

Ignoring Soonyoung’s comment, your neighbor continues trying to apologize.

“I just wanted to let you know that whatever neighborly thing you need, you can count on my family and me.”

Just by the way they’re silent, analyzing every bit of him but actually finding nothing, you can tell that the guys already hate Jun without even knowing him.

And for that, you feel relieved.

“Thank you, Jun. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

•••

You live in a place so different than Mr. Chwe and Mr Hong’s new house. It only has a few rooms; none of them fancy and only spacious enough for you to sleep and change in there. The little wooden cabin remains hidden in between the trees, all of them prominent enough to prevent your house from being in plain sight. Rain has to make an effort to fall in between thick leaves. And if it wasn’t because of the oscillating movement of your auntie’s chair, Joshua would´t have found it.

He has always been a good neighbor. It’s a signature part of the made up story he tells about himself every time his life changes. So there he is, standing on the porch of your house with a basket of freshly baked cookies in hand. He expects to find you there and maybe ask you a couple of questions about the Boo family and your relationship with them.

“You didn’t have to” you say, receiving the basket in your hands with guilt wrinkling your eyebrows. “Really. I feel terrible. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“You’ve given more than enough. This is just a thank you. To you and your aunt.”

Some persistent raindrops have started to pierce through the trees.

“Come in, I insist” you say, opening the door fully even though it’s kinda messy inside. You haven’t found the time to clean up and embarrassment shows in the crimson red of your plumpy cheeks. “You won’t make it to the lodge before the rain. And I was about to make some coffee to warm up anyways.”

Joshua knows perfectly that he will be able to reach the lodge even before the next drop of rain. Despite that, he decides to enter your house and take a seat at your table, waiting for the cloudburst to stop, like any normal person. In front of him, there’s a cup of coffee. He asked for it without sugar or milk because he wouldn’t be able to enjoy those flavors if you put them in there anyways. Of course, the story he tells is different. It’s easier to explain he’s grown accustomed to preparing his coffee bitter in the rush of his night guards.

“So, California…”

Your friend Hoshi’s observation over Jun had been rude but sharp. California’s sun had rejected Joshua’s family in an inexplicable way.

“Yes, we stayed there for a short time,” he answers. For him, that is not a lie. Ten years really is a short time. “We have a condition. It makes us sensitive to the sun. So long term wasn’t an option.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for that...”

“It's okay. We just have to be careful. Forks seems like the perfect place for that.”

“Trust me. Forks can give you a lot of trouble but sunny days won’t be one.”

Joshua takes a sip of his coffee. It doesn’t taste like anything, but it’s reassuring to see you enjoy the cookies he baked but can’t taste.

“A lot of trouble?” He asks, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Coming from California and —from what Vernon told you— previously New York, you imagine your neighbor has no idea of the consequences of living in a place like Forks.

“Well, a small town can be a vast hell if you don’t keep things to yourself,” you explain. “Forks is amazing. But there’s only a few habitants and they all get bored easily, so rumors fly.”

Joshua’s well aware of how deadly rumors can be. Especially when truth revolves around them.

“Do you have secrets to entertain us with, Mr. Hong?” you mock him, feeling a little more comfortable around your neighbor who’s not only a kind person but also a great baker.

His eyes get all wrinkly when he smiles.

“I’m afraid we’re gonna bore you all,” he answers “And please don’t call me Mr. Hong.”

“Fair enough.” You say, while cleaning leftover cookies from the corner of your mouth.

“What about you, do you have secrets?”

You laugh at the question. Maybe it’s because you know the answer damn well.

“Of course. We all do.”

masterlist | next chapter (soon)

#minghao x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen the8 #seventeen x reader #jun smut #jun angst #jun fluff #jun x reader #seventeen jun #minghao smut #minghao angst #minghao fluff #seventeen x y/n #seventeen fanfic

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 2 years

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Permission Granted [rooster]

A/N: OMG this got so much longer than I expected after being my first fanfiction imagine back from a long hiatus :D please be easy on me! I love me some rooster! I hope you like it!

Requested by an anon with prompt #19: "Permission to lean in?" "Permission granted."

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

Plot: Rooster and Iceman's daughter have been best friends and they've always had feelings for each other. After losing her father, reader has a hard time coping with Rooster leaving without saying how she feels.

“Icelady, a few beers please darlin,” Hangman’s voice rang from behind and you turned to see that pearly white grin gleaming as he leaned against the bar of the Hard Deck. It had been a blast from the past having your favorite pilot class back in the infamous bar for a super special, top secret mission.

You grabbed four beers from the ice cooler, collecting them in one arm as the other used a bottle opener to quickly snap them all open and push them onto the counter. “Anything else Bagman?” you teased with a wink as you added the beers to Maverick’s tab with a giggle.

“Hangman,” he corrected with a mischievous look in his eye. “And no thanks darlin, as long as they’re on the ol’ buck.” Hangman pointed across to Maverick who was deep in conversation with Penny and nodded in delight as you held your thumb up.

Hangman went to head back to his buddies before second guessing himself, turning fully back to face you with another charming smile. “Actually, just one more thing…” he trailed off, leaning closer to you. Your hand stopped wiping down the dirty counter, quipping an eyebrow at the motion before you noticed Bradley walking towards you.

“What’s that?” you asked with a genuine curiosity. Before he could ask whatever suggestive maneuver he was churning up in his head, Bradley’s hand came down on the back of his head with a harsh whack making a loud giggle escape your lips.

“ROOSTER,” Hangman growled and rubbed the back of his head in anguish. You went back to wiping the bar as Rooster rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“What?” he asked with an innocent look on his face, adjusting his Hawaiian shirt. “I was just coming to ask my best friend to join me for a walk on the beach tonight so we could catch up…you weren’t planning to ask her out, were you?”

Sticking your tongue out slightly and biting down on it with a smile, you couldn’t fight the amusement bubbling up from the look on Hangman’s defeated face.

“Cause, she’s busy. Right?” you nodded innocently and Rooster winked at you, grasping one of the cold beers in Hangman’s hands before dragging him back to their group. You moved back to your Uncle and Penny, watching as the two practically stared into each other’s souls. Maverick broke his gazing to see your approaching figure, a genuine smile forming to brighten his face.

“Look at you, peanut,” he stood from his stool so you could give him a tight squeeze. “You’re all grown up, looks like you and Bradley are still as close as ever.” You turned as you watched Rooster slamming on the keys of the piano, getting the bar to sing along with him.

“He’s my best friend, of course we’re still as close as ever,” you replied - pulling two beers from the cooler and handing him one before taking a sip of your own. He stared down at the sweat on the label before taking a sip.

“When are you going to tell him?” There was a pregnant pause at the question before you narrowed your eyes at the older man.

“Same time you tell Penny how you really feel about her,” your words were razor sharp, almost threatening as he pursed his lips and tilted his beer with a knowing nod.

“Touche,” he chuckled.

“We’ve really worked to stay in touch with everything that’s happened over the years,” you gave him a soft tight lipped smile. “Especially with Dad’s condition.” Maverick sighed in understanding, worried as much as you were for one of his oldest friends.

“Your dad is a tough son of a bitch,” Pete replied, rubbing your arm in comfort. “He’ll pull through.”

“He is tough,” your eyes lit up, “He was top of his class you know?” you teased as he sat back on the chair with a shocked expression before pushing your shoulder gently.

“We were having a nice moment there,” Pete exclaimed as you both clinked your beers and began to catch up.

That was three weeks ago.

Your fingertips tapped heavily against the scratched up glaze of the oak on the bar, the document on your Macbook staring back at you as your vision blurred once more. You hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until Penny slammed a large box beside you, the glass clicking and clunking inside as she placed a hand on her hip.

You had been a mess since he’d left for his top secret mission. Being Iceman’s oldest daughter, you were completely used to people you loved going off to god knows where to do god knows what. Your heart practically dulled and numbed to the feeling - but you never had to say goodbye to Bradley like this before.

Especially so close after losing your father. You were still too devastated by the loss to be even slightly okay with Maverick and Rooster flying. And with only so little time left before the mission, Rooster was finding it hard to say goodbye to you knowing everything you had lost.

Never had to see the unsure gaze he gave you when he came to let you know what time they were leaving. Never before had you lost your words of affirmation or watched the stray tears slip through his hard exterior and find their way onto your bare shoulder. You were the best of friends and he was the over confident one. Poker faces were never your strong suit, never something you learned to perfect so when you clutched onto his uniform in a tight fist of fury, you were unsure of how to navigate open waters without a flotation device.

Rooster had cleared his throat and he tried to collect himself, wiping his face with his large hand before rubbing your back quietly. His broad arms wrapped around you tightly, squeezing before he reluctantly let you go. “I’ve gotta get some shut eye before we head out at dawn so I’m going to go…” he sighed and glanced down at his shoes. “I’ll see you in a few days okay?” he pressed his chapped lips to your cheek and then he was gone before you had a chance to speak. The sound of your front door alerting you of your last chance to spill your feelings, rushing down the steps to stop him but when the door slammed open to reveal your empty driveway with no Jeep in sight - a sob escaped your lips.

Rooster’s phone was off, something he always did the night before a mission. The notion is a deep annoyance to you but a necessity for him to get his mind right and focused. No distractions, he would always reply during a petty bickering session.

That had been five days ago and the radio silence was killing you inside. “Why don’t you and I go sailing today?” Penny finally said after staring at you with a deep crease in her brow. You wiped your sweaty hands on your shorts before glancing at the time on your phone again. “I’m worried sick too, we could both use the distraction.”

You nodded and stood to stow your laptop in her office before she left the keys with Jimmy. You headed down the road to the dock, leaving your phone in the car to let go for a moment and helped Penny to untie from the dock and head out on the windy day.

It was a gorgeous day out on the water, the sails billowing as you zipped through the waves. The sun felt good on your face and for a few hours, you felt at peace with the world. Your worries and fears had been safely locked up at the dock, awaiting your return. Penny gave you a few lessons, letting you steer while she pushed and pulled at the ropes to maneuver. You were giggling messes, chatting about your respected men and their troubles while cruising along the islands surrounding San Diego. It was only when the sun began to descend in the sky that you two decided it was time to head back before the rush of new recruits and veteran pilots decided to frequent the bar again for the night.

With the sails tightly rolled down, you yanked to start the engine to steer quietly back to the docks - only to catch two men in the distance, dawned in uniforms. You lifted your sunglasses, squinting in the distance as your heart began to hammer against your chest. One glance to Penny gave you relief that her anxiety filled her facial features. You stood, rushing to the bow of the boat to realize that it was Rooster and Maverick, standing patiently waiting for your return.

You let out a sob, covering your mouth as you approached. Without thought, you leaped onto the platform as soon as you were close enough, both men rushing forward in fear of your safety. Landing securely on the dock, your feet slapped against the old wood as Mav moved forward to clasp your hand for a moment before he passed you to help Penny.

Arms and legs entangled as you leaped into Rooster’s embrace, sobbing into the neatly pressed material of his collar. He held you tightly against him and tears slid down both your cheeks, your hands sliding through the locks of hair at the base of his neck. He soothingly ran his hands up and down on your back as he pulled back to look at you.

“I’m home, I’m safe,” he whispered, his forehead pressing lovingly at yours as he peppered your face with kisses. “I love you,” he murmured against the warm flushed skin of your cheek, making your heart skip a beat.

“You…what?” you breathed out and he inhaled, his soft breath fanning over your neck.

“I should’ve told you before I left,” he tried, leaning back to gaze deeply into your eyes. “I love you, I always have.”

“You left without telling me that?” your tone was unreadable and he couldn’t tell if you were mad or upset or uninterested. His brow furrowed and he was a little scared. “Do you understand how worried I’ve been about you Rooster? How devastated I would’ve been knowing that you left me alone before I got to tell you that I feel the same way?” you rambled, using his callsign which was never good, but his eyes lit up at your confession. He leaned forward to grab your cheeks and pull you to him but you stopped him.

“Oh no, you do not get to just kiss me when I thought you were dead just about 15 minutes ago,” you wagged a finger at him, taking a few minutes to look him over. The moment didn’t feel real and he gave you a moment or two to take in everything that had just happened.

Rooster let you take your time, watching your expression relax as you finally accepted his appearance to be real. Your shoulders loosened, arms coming down to your sides as you took a deep breath and a small smile painted onto your lips. Rooster returned the smile gently, tilting his head playfully to the side.

“Permission to lean in?” he asked, using his pilot voice as he stood at attention. The action made you laugh, grin widening at his silly antics.

“Permission granted, Litenaunt Bradshaw,” you nodded as he relaxed and moved forward to grab your cheeks once more. His lips crashed against yours after a moment and you leaned in to his touch, returning the kiss as your hands covered his larger ones. The world fell away around you as you moved against each other, the kiss slow yet passionate. You only pulled away due to the sounds of whooping and hollering coming from behind you as Mav and Penny cheered.

“We should get out of here,” you whispered against his neck, hiding your embarrassment, “lover.” You squealed as he picked you up, throwing you over his broad shoulder to get you into his car for some privacy. He clutched your hand in his as he backed out of the parking lot, waving to the older couple heading to Mav’s bike before touching his lips to your knuckles and driving into the sunset.

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader

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lestappenforever · 9 months

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Omg after watching the Charles post race interviews from the Hungarian GP I feel like I need 8 and 37 for established lestappen 😭

Bestie, the way my heart has fucking shattered over and over again for Charles this weekend. The sadness in his eyes after the race is just devastating. 😭

8. and 37. for established Lestappen coming right up! ❤️

You're also getting a bonus 19. "Can I play with your hair?" and 20. "C'mere sweetheart."

---

8. "Relax. I've got you.", 37. "Oh, baby... c'mere...", 19. "Can I play with your hair?", and 20. "C'mere, sweetheart."

The Hungarian Grand Prix adds another crushing blow to Charles' never-ending list of crushing blows in 2023.

Qualifying P5 wasn't ideal, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. Charles went into the Sunday hopeful — confident — he could overtake Zhou early, and then set his sights on Lando and Oscar. And he did.

But everything went to shit after that.

The absolute low point of the day — and there were quite a few to choose from, including the ridiculously slow pit stop — was Xavi telling him they'd discuss the race strategy at the end of the race.

The race strategy for this race. When they were smack dab in the fucking middle of it, and Charles had ideas that could take him to a higher position if the team would just fucking listen to him.

He wants to laugh when Xavi tells him good job at the end of the race.

A P7 finish after a P5 start is not a good result. But he supposes that his engineer thinks so just sums up their season altogether.

When he's roped in for his post-race interviews, Charles feels frustrated and sad and tired. He's just so fucking tired of everything.

He's tired of every race feeling like a fucking struggle with a car that can't seem to perform the way Charles needs it to. He's tired of having a team around him that won't listen to a word he says, and seem to have made it their life's mission to screw him over with their strategy one way or another, every single race. He's tired of feeling like with every passing week, another team outperforms them and passes them in the overall standings.

But most of all, he's tired of feeling like he's not enough. That nothing he does will ever be enough. Even though he knows, deep down, that he's not at fault for the way this terrible season is turning out.

Because Charles will never not blame himself. It's in his blood, his genes, his very soul.

Once he finishes his media duties, Charles retreats to his driver's room and is fully intent on staying there until the paddock is as close to empty as possible.

He doesn't even have the energy to change out of his racesuit, only unzipping it and pushing the top half down to expose his fireproofs. Then, he just sits on the floor with his head in his hands.

He doesn't cry, though. There have been so many tears already this season that Charles doesn't think he has any left at this point.

Charles convinces himself that's a good thing.

As he sits on the floor of his driver's room, staring ahead without seeing anything, Charles feels nothing.

---

"You need to see this," Lando tells Max as they wait to be called in for their post-race press conference, handing his phone over.

Max takes it with a frown, looking down at the screen as Lando taps the screen to start the video.

Charles' face stares back at him, and the Monégasque looks so fucking tired, so fucking sad, that it makes Max feel sick. His eyes are shining with tears Max knows won't spill. He watches the way Charles wipes at his face, touches his mouth, licks his lips, rubs at the back of his neck, looks away from the interviewer and the camera as he talks about the race.

It's every tell-tale sign of the chaos going on in Charles' mind — in his heart.

He's doubting himself, blaming himself, trying his damnedest to find a way to shift the fault of the race to himself as opposed to where the blame truly lies: With the team.

It's infuriating, and Max kind of wishes Lando hadn't shown him this now, before the press conference. Because now Max needs to pretend like he isn't thinking about Charles as he sits with Lando and Checo on that couch, answering questions about his own race.

Max sighs as the interview finishes, and he hands Lando his phone back just as a woman comes out to collect them.

Behind him, Checo pats his shoulder in sympathy.

"Do you think he's okay?" the Mexican asks quietly, low enough for only Max to hear him.

And Max sighs again, shaking his head. "Would you be?"

Checo doesn't answer, but that's answer enough.

---

When Max lets himself into Charles' driver's room after the press conference, the Monégasque is still sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.

Max shuts the door behind him and goes to sit next to him on the floor. He waits.

When a full minute passes and Charles doesn't speak, Max reaches out to take one of Charles' hands from where it's danglig limply between his bent knees, lacing their fingers together.

The contact makes something dislodge in Charles, and the numbness that's been holding him together disappears, replaced by every heartbreaking emotion he's been trying so hard to ignore. His shoulders begin to shake as the tears Charles was sure he was all out of well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks.

Max sees it right away, because of course he does.

"Oh baby... C'mere," he says without missing a beat, letting go of Charles' hand in favor of curling his arm around Charles' shoulders and pulling him against his chest.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

Charles goes willingly, turning slightly on the floor so he can press his face into Max's chest, tears wetting the fabric of Max's fireproofs. He curls a hand in the fabric by his face, holding on for dear life, as Max's other arm wraps around him, too, holding him close.

And he cries. Flat-out sobs against Max, his heart breaking over and over again in his chest as the sheer hopelessness of the situation washes over him for what feels like the millionth time this season.

Max kisses his head, again and again, as Charles trembles violently against him.

"Relax," Max whispers into his hair, tightening his hold around the Ferrari driver. "I've got you."

It's said like a promise, and Charles knows he means it like one.

It takes Charles a long time to get his bearings enough to make his voice work, but eventually, he manages a whisper.

"Can I play with your hair?"

Max is already pushing the orange cap off his head before Charles can finish the sentence.

"Of course you can," he murmurs, as he wraps his arm back around Charles.

Charles lets go of Max's fireproof shirt to reach up, tangling his fingers in the blond strands and toying with them. It’s an act he always finds to be incredibly soothing, and it helps calm his racing mind.

The fact that Max fucking loves it too is a nice bonus, as the Red Bull driver lets out a pleased hum.

It won't make it all better. Won't make the pain stop or make the devastation of it all go away.

But amidst what is shaping out to be a truly horrible year for Charles, Max is the only constant he knows he will never have to worry about. Because Max loves Charles more than he loves anything else, and Charles loves Max just the same.

It won't fix anything. But it will make it bearable.

And at the end of the day, that's all that matters.

#Lestappen drabble #Lestappen prompt #Prompts #Asks prompts #Asks #Anon asks

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daddyhausen · 1 year

Note

{ 43 } — are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop

{ 82 } — i want you to touch yourself

{ 88 } — thats a good girl, you can cum now

For Malakai Black please 🤍

• headcannon — malakai black •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { malakai black masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact } virgin!reader virginity loss, jerk off instruction, female masturbation, fingering, praise, begging, submissive/dominant dynamic, oral sex { female receiving }, gentle sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, male + female orgasms, squirting, internal cumshot, creampie, cockwarming

{ word count } — 984

{ pairing } — fem!reader x malakai black

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ 43 } — are you sure? once i start i don't think i'm able to stop

{ 82 } — i want you to touch yourself

{ 88 } — thats a good girl, you can cum now

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

he sat at the foot of the bed

simply observing as you laid spread and naked before him

his eyes glimmered under moonlight, one with a soft hazel glow with flecks of green and brown

the other as white as the moon itself, so bright in contrast

he stared you down with a gaze that could only be attributed to lust, desire even

yet he remained fully clothed, letting his eyes undress you despite you already lacking clothing

as if he were peeling back the layers of your flesh

searching for a pure untouched soul he could corrupt

“i want you to touch yourself” his voice spoke in breathy whispers

almost accentuating each syllable speaking to you as if you were simple minded

you were hesitant to oblige yet you could not control the instinctual movement of your fingers

sinking lower down your stomach until your palm rested atop your mound

it were as if his eyes controlled your movements

watching on as they followed every minuscule twitch of your fingertips

eventually letting your fingers tease your slick folds

gathering your wetness on the pads of your fingertips

moaning softly at the sensation as you ghosted faintly over your sensitive clit

only imagining how he was enjoy the sight before him

a low groan left his lips, yet he did not act on it

still observing the scene

although his breath had become more ragged

the subtle rise and fall of his chest now seemed like deep shaky gasps

“just like that, my angel…you’re doing so well”

you hummed with delight at two fingers sunk deeper inside yourself

the soft sloshing of your wetness around the slender digits made your toes curl and stomach churn with excitement

malakai parted his lips with his tongue

the appendage licked the bottom lip feverishly

looking like a man starved of cunt

“sir…” you whimpered

voice pitched with a moan as a knot of arousal formed in your stomach

growing increasingly as you continued

he replied with a small hum of acknowledgement, palming the sizeable bulge in his trousers

“c-can i cum…?” you questioned, practically begged, feeling your end drawing near

he took a moment to glance down at your soaked cunt once more

smiling in satisfaction as your sweetness made of skin glow under moonlight

“you just gotta do one thing for me”

“anything…please!”

he stood up from his position, trapping your ankles in his palm, keeping your legs spread

“beg me for it…i wanna hear you, loud and clear. can you do that for me sweetheart?”

you gulped thickly, feeling the tightness in your belly increase

“y-yes sir…” you stammered over your words, throat hoarse and dry

“good…now what do you say?”

he cocked an eyebrow inquisitively almost printing you to continue

“please…please let me cum sir! i need to cum!”

you whines and whimpers contorted with screams and pleasured gasps

malakai’s fingers tightened around your ankles

only aiding in your pleasure with his tongue when as you were about to hit your peak

drawing circles against your swollen, throbbing pearl

“that’s a good girl. you can cum now”

it did not take long for the flood gates to quite literally implode

your juices gushed from your cunt, soaking your folds, fingers, his tongue and the bed sheets below

you shuddered at the sensation, body shivering lightly still as the euphoria of your orgasm finally subsided

so much so that malakai had pressed his body to yours

peppering gentle kisses into the crook of your neck

bringing your fingers up to his lips

sampling the droplets of your sweetness at it clung to the pads of your fingertips

humming with satisfaction at your taste

“i want you…” you muttered halfway between sleep and consciousness

words murmured into his collarbone

“are you sure? once i start i don't think i'm able to stop”

you nodded with a sheepish grin, almost shying away into his chest

you repeated your sentence, arms folding around his neck as he positioned himself above you

his lips lingered against yours for a moment

barely touching yet the moment had never felt so intimate

he never broke eye contact, his forehead pressed to yours as he slipped inside you

his breath tickling the tops of your cheeks, giving a shaky exhale as he bottomed out

“fuck…” he grunted, drawing out the word as his hips began to rock back and forth in a slow yet steady rhythmic motion

his forearms placed either side of your head

allowing you to see the way his muscles contracted and relax with each movement

the shadows casted from the moonlight glow only aided in the sight

“my angel…you feel heavenly” he murmured against your chin

lips sinking down to place breathless, open-mouth kisses to the column of your throat

your fingers retracted inward, nails sinking into the flesh of his back offer he gave a particularly rough thrust

indents, much like claw marks in his inked skin

“you’re the light of my life, my darling…my god…heaven help who ever hurts you”

you could feel yourself begin to buckle under the weight of your next orgasm

the pulse grew thick between your thighs

gasps rose in your throat like calls for air

malakai braced himself against your chest, hands slipping under your back in order to hold you close

“cum for me, my angel…make a mess around my cock”

the force of your orgasm caused tears to will in the corners of your eyes

choked sobs catching in your throat as your pussy quivered around his length

heated thrums of your orgasms clenching around him

he gave a final groan, his hot seed filling your womb

a sensation that made your back arch with contentment

a small hum left your lips, breaking between the soft, pleasured sobs

“hey…sweetheart. look at me” he tiled your head upwards, catching your teary gaze

“don’t cry, my love…you did so well”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#malakai black #malakai black x reader #malakai black smut #malakai black fanfic #malakai black imagine #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fanfic #aew x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut

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mewhenimanonymous · 4 months

Text

Paranoia (Chapter 3)

(Secret History/TSAA Tails x Paranoid!Reader)

A/N

hai guys sorry it’s been so long ;c i started writing the next couple chapters after i published 1 and 2 but i didn’t know where 4 should go so i stopped writing for a while and then i forgot about it. i haven’t been on tumblr for a while either so when i logged back on and saw how much traction paranoia got i was like ?!!?! thank you guys sm omg?! so like im gonna try to finish this fanfic eventually but chapter 4 is a total mess right now so here’s chapter 3!! im sorry it’s short but i promise chapter 4 (and maybe 5?!) will be longer :3

—————————————————————————————————————————

You couldn’t remember anything after that, or even right now as you’re trying to wake up after a deep nap. All noise is muffled, and everything is blurry, you can only make out an orange blob looking down at you.

Wait, where am I? Soon the loopiness starts to fade away, and you’re coming back to your senses, though certainly not completely yet as Tails looks totally different than when you last remember him. Crazy how the brain works.

“Tails,” you mumble quietly, but you’re shushed by a pointed, slender finger.

“It’s alright, my dear.” His usually sweet, younger voice you’re used to was replaced by a shrill and unnerving one.

I’m hallucinating. How many drugs did he pump me with? You feel his cold, lanky hand cup your cheek, his unnaturally sharp claws grazing your jawline.

“You’re all better now.” He leans into you, examining you, and you’re able to better inspect Tails’ new monstrous form your brain made up. Freakishly bright and hypnotizing blue and pink eyes staring into your soul, a wide joker-like grin with teeth so sharp and jagged even a dentist couldn’t save them, matted and unkempt fur now with a more orangish hue, not to mention how tall he’s become compared to his usual short stature, his figure so skinny you could see his rib cage… he looks sickening.

Seeing this grotesque version of your friend should be terrifying to you, but instead you’re met with an empty, numb feeling. Your subconscious must be aware of this hallucination.

“What… happened?” Your head is still fuzzy from the anesthesia, and you try to ignore the unnatural sight that’s bestowed upon you, knowing there’s no way Tails would be aware of what you’re seeing.

“Why, I fixed you! Now my sweetheart won’t have to worry about anything ever again!” He takes your hands and intertwines your fingers together, still staring… has he blinked yet?

Sweetheart? You cringe at the nickname, having an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Tails, what’s gotten into you?” You try letting go of Tails’ hands, but his grip becomes almost unbearingly tight and you let out a yelp.

“I’m protecting you! I never want my precious (Y/N) to be in harm’s way ever again! Especially not when you’re in this pitiful, repulsive universe you call home.” Tails rolls his eyes and looks to his right. You follow his gaze and widen your eyes as you become entranced by a bright, magenta-colored portal. There were many wires connected to it, most of which coming from a crystal of the same color that was sparking with electricity.

This has to be a dream.

“I was gonna wait until much later to reveal myself to you, but plans have changed. It looks like my newest project has already decided to start tearing this universe apart, and I couldn’t bear to stay in that pathetic skin-suit of my imposter any longer than I had to!” He started becoming visibly angry, and he was crushing your hands with such force you never thought could come from him. You let out a much more painful yelp, and Tails quickly lets go of your hands, looking remorseful as he picks them up gently and plants a sympathetic kiss on them. You have mixed feelings about this.

“Plus, I don’t want to hide anything from my darling. You deserve to see the real me~” Tails runs his hand up your neck, then traces a claw along your jaw and tilts your chin up to face him. His moves his face closer into yours, and seeing his face up close only makes him more disgusting to look at. Dark eye bags around his eyes, his breath reeking like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in months, and some gray hairs in his orange fur that shouldn’t be there—he wasn’t that old, yet… or was he?

He should be a major red flag to you, but now that you couldn’t feel any fear, it was replaced with sympathy. However this dream version of Tails got this way, you care about him, and you want to help him, even if it might not be real. Even if nothing he said made any sense to you.

“Tails, did you hit your head…? Have you been feeling alright?” You move his hand out of the way and try sitting up, however he forcefully twists your head to your right to look out the window. The outside world was slowly being drained of its color, with most of the world already gray and lifeless. There were veins of bright yellow light spreading all throughout the world—it looked almost like an infection of some kind. Debris and parts of the earth were floating up into the sky, and with it, the corpses of your friends—including a massacred version of a slightly familiar blue hedgehog.

“Either come with me, or stay here and DIE like the rest of your ‘FRIENDS’.” Tails’ voice becomes much more vile in tone, which would scare the life out of any normal person. “Quite frankly, you would be an imbecile to choose the latter. But I know you better than that, sweetheart~”

He was threatening you, but you can’t feel fear. You don’t fear death, but it’s not like you want to die, so he was still able to trap you. Even then, you don’t care about anything else, you just want to help him. Maybe you’re foolish, but you know that somewhere deep down, the real Tails is in there—at least, you hope. For all you know, this may not be Tails at all.

“I’ll… I’ll come with you.” You turn your head toward Tails as he lets go of your face, and a wide, sinister grin makes its way onto his face.

“Excellent choice, my dear~” He presses his chapped lips onto your cheek, giving a wet kiss that makes your body tense up. When he pulls away, he stares at you with his sickening grin for a moment longer, before grabbing your hand and leading you toward the portal.

You both stand at the edge, and he looks at you with a smug smirk.

“Ladies first~” Tails bows slightly as he gestures his hand toward the portal. You’re tempted to go ahead, but instead you push him in, and with a shrill yell he’s gone in an instant. You can’t help but snicker as you follow him inside.

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

I Only See Daylight - 17

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E

Chapter Length: 6.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: past emotional & physical abuse, nightmares, PTSD, hurt/comfort, anxiety

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

notes: sorry for the delay, y'all. life and shit, ya know? hope you enjoy this chapter anyway! (also omg look at him i wanna put my hands in his hair so bad)

i don’t wanna look at anything else now that i saw you (i could never look away)

Well, it’s been a while.

The nightmares are back.

They are back in full fucking force.

When you first escaped and found your haven of solitude, it took a few months for the nightmares to fade. For your body to catch on to the fact that you were safe, no one could find you, not one soul was even near you for thousands of klicks. Thoughts of Them were never far from your mind, but you knew that they were far from you.

And that has been true since then.

You’ve had the odd nightmare since, but nothing that caused you to wake in a panic.

Until now.

When you wake, the first thing you realise is that you’re panting for air, and there are tears on your cheeks.

Then you look up, blink through the blurriness, and there’s a silver helmet in front of you, all shiny and hard and protective, crouched down beside the couch that you must have fallen asleep on.

“Din?”

Images of your nightmare are still fresh in your mind. Broken glass, trapped in your room, wondering if you were even alive. If anyone would ever see you again. Your skin was untouched, unbruised, but you felt the furthest from okay you’ve ever been. They’d pretended you didn’t exist for weeks, readying you for the shower of love they’d give once the punishment was over. All you felt was loneliness, cold, dark, absolute terror…

“Hey,” his voice calls you back from the memories. You hadn’t realised your eyes had closed again, so you open them, find him there still. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you alright?”

You blink at him. As the fear starts to subside, it’s replaced by deep, deep embarrassment.

The jacket that you were repairing is still on the couch beside you; you must have fallen asleep while you were doing it. Which is embarrassing in itself; recovering from these injuries is proving harder than you’d expected. You hurt all the time, and it takes every ounce of strength you have to do the exercises that the doctors told you to do. Three times a day, five minutes at a time. It’s like torture. But if you don’t do it, you won’t heal right. So you do it. But it makes you hurt.

Which means you take more meds.

Which, together, mean you’re fucking exhausted, always. Not exactly a helpful person to have around.

And now, this nightmare. So bad you must have been crying in your sleep; so much that Din had to wake you from it.

Din.

He’s staring at you in a way that is always so soft, so comforting. Except it’s not comforting. You’re humiliated.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Sorry. I—I was repairing the jacket, I must have dozed off…”

“It’s alright, I’m not mad at you,” he assures you. Then, hesitating when he reaches out towards you, “Can I touch you?”

You want him to hold you more than anything. To soothe you with his hands, his words, his warmth. You want to tell him about the nightmare, about how scared you were—how scared you are.

They found you at Fett’s. They—you—are the whole reason you’re in so much pain.

Before you know it, tears are stinging at your eyes again. And you’re so tired. So tired of crying, of being weak. Of needing comfort.

You managed just fine on your own, all that time. And being a burden is never what you wanted.

“I’m fine,” you insist, shaking your head and pulling away from him. His hand drops again. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

He hesitates. You can see his arms itching to reach out to you. Yours are doing the same to him; you sit on your hands to stop them. “You were crying in your sleep,” he says softly, like he’s not sure if he should. “Looked like you were having a panic attack.”

You were. Both just now, and back when the memory that now plagues you actually happened. “I’m fine,” you lie again. “I’m gonna finish the jacket. What’s next? Are we still in hyperspace?”

“Yeah,” he watches you as you grab the jacket, needle, and thread from beside you and get to work again. “We’re going to need to stop for fuel soon.”

Fear strikes through your gut. You don’t let it show. “Okay.”

“It might be risky. I want you to stay on the ship.”

“Okay.” Your hands are shaking. You’re not really listening to him.

A gloved hand on your knee sends your eyes up to look at him. Your hands freeze.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “Talk to me.”

“I’m alright,” you whisper, desperately holding back tears. “Tell me the plan for refuelling.”

His hand reaches up, his fingers brushing down your cheek. “You look tired,” he tells you. “You should get some rest first. We can manage until you’re ready to land again.”

Feeling even more like a burden than ever, and still fucking shaking, you shake your head. “I’m fine.” You want to turn it into a promise. But you’ve never lied to him before, and despite the fact that you want him to believe you’re fine, to not see you as a burden, you won’t start now. “Just a bad dream. It happens.”

He looks at you for another long minute. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he sighs a little.

“Tell me the plan.”

“Later,” he stands up again, removing his hand from your face. “I’m going to get a little sleep, while the kid’s asleep. I’d love it if you’d join me, but you don’t have to.”

Din doesn’t sleep.

He hasn’t since you were hurt. At least, not properly. A few naps in the medbay chair by your bed and lying beside you during the night cycle, dozing in and out of light sleep, doesn’t really count.

All he can hear when he closes his eyes is your screams. They echo in his mind, along with the image of you on the floor, writhing in pain, surrounded by broken glass and blood and doctors rushing to keep your spine straight. He was completely helpless. The injury to his leg stopped him from being able to protect you, which is the very first thing he promised you, and undoubtedly the most important.

He’d thought you were safe at Fett’s. You should have been. Din should’ve been more careful, more vigilant.

He can’t let anything like that happen again.

So even when you’re in hyperspace with no chance of anyone finding you, he still doesn’t manage to drift off into a proper sleep. He’s on high alert, keeping his helmet on at all times to monitor his surroundings, keep his hearing sharp. There’s no way anyone else is on the ship. He’s checked every inch of it for trackers, bugs, stowaways.

And yet, he still can’t swallow his fear, or lower his guard. He feels completely shaken, out in the middle of the ocean without a life raft. He’s never felt like this before.

So instead of sleeping, he just lies behind you, chest just inches from your back, running his bare hand over your arm as you sleep. You’d drifted off fairly quickly, obviously needing more sleep after the nightmare that woke you earlier. He’s relieved that you opted to sleep more, even if he told a bit of a white lie when he said he was going to sleep. It wasn’t entirely untrue; he would sleep if he could, and it’s not from lack of trying.

But he can’t. So he just listens to your breathing, reminds himself that you’re here. Lets your presence solidify the need to protect you. Lets it strengthen his resolve to never put you in danger again.

You’re having nightmares because of him; because he failed. He has to show you that he won’t fail again.

When you wake, Din is already awake behind you. You can’t see his face, but you can hear his breathing, and when you turn around to face him, he lifts his head to look at you.

“Hey,” you say, still groggy.

“Hey, Mesh’la,” he brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek.

“Are we still in hyperspace? Did you sleep?”

“We’re still in hyperspace. We’ll need to stop for fuel soon.”

You rub your eyes and nod, not missing the fact that he avoided your second question. Instead of calling him out on it, though, you just shuffle in closer and wrap your arm around his waist, pressing your forehead to his helmet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says softly. “Are you? How’d you sleep?”

“Better.” Better, because you were there to hold me.

“Good. Are you hungry? How’s your pain?”

“Are you interrogating me, or something?” You retort with a tired smirk, tucking your head in underneath his neck. It’s not all that comfortable; the top of his chest plate digs into your chin, and the fabric of his cowl is scratchy. But he smells like him, and it’s just nice to have him close.

“Sorry,” he says, running his hand over the back of your head. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

“’M fine,” you murmur. “You gonna tell me the plan for refuelling yet?”

“I…would like it if you stayed in our quarters while I leave the ship. You and the kid.”

“You think people will recognise me?”

“I think they’ll recognise me,” he replies. “And people know you’re with me. There are probably bounties out for us already.” His voice is laced with something heavy, something like…guilt?

“Nothing new there, right?” You joke softly.

Instead of laughing, he sighs. “It’s different this time,” he says. “This time, it’s not just me at stake.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“So if you don’t mind, will you hide while we refuel? I’ll lock the ship, and I’ll be close by. But…just in case.”

He’s holding tight to you, something in the way he presses close, pushes your head further into his neck, making you think that maybe he’s uncomfortable talking about this.

“I’ll stay hidden,” you promise him. “If you give me one thing.”

“Anything.”

You bring your face out from his neck and look up at him, finding the helmet tilted down to meet your eyes. You still feel greedy for asking for this, but that doesn’t stop you. “Kiss me?”

So softly, he sighs. Not frustratedly, not even tiredly. Fond, maybe. Or perhaps even relieved.

He removes his hands from you, instead lifting them to take off his helmet. His hair is all mussed up when it’s on show, and your heart does a little flip at the sight of him, all his facial hair, his wrinkles, his eyes. His lips.

It’s never going to get old.

You smile at him, reach out to put a hand on the hair over his jaw. As you take him in, you notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired. Handsome, but tired.

Before you can comment on it, he’s leaning in, softly capturing your lips between his own. He’s so warm, so familiar. Smells and tastes just like him. Your hand slides into his hair, holding on to the nape of his neck as you deepen the kiss, tilting your head so your lips can move softly together. Like it’s an instinct, you bend your leg and prop it on his thigh, pushing your hips together almost subconsciously. He sighs into your mouth, heavenly and perfect, and you want to feel his breath all over your skin; your neck, your stomach, between your legs…

His hand comes down to hold your leg, hooking over the bend of your knee, anchoring you to him. The press of his palm there is a lot. You wish he’d slide it up and around, grab hold of your ass.

It’s been too long since you did this. Since you were really intimate.

But then, a noise from above you breaks you apart. You both realise at the same time that it’s Grogu waking up, untangling yourselves just seconds before he pokes his head over the edge of his hammock and peers down at the two of you with sleepy little blinks.

Din sighs, letting his head fall to your shoulder. “We’ve got to get him his own room,” he says, shaking his head.

You chuckle. “Hey, kid. How’d you sleep?”

Pleased to see you both here, he hops down from his hammock, lands on your hip. He makes a happy coo as he walks closer and then settles himself between you, his little head leaning against Din’s arm.

“I guess we’re snuggling,” you say, looking up to give Din a playful smirk.

The hand that was once on the underside of your thigh instead reaches up to take hold of Grogu, sitting softly on his back. “We’ve got to refuel,” he says, reluctance seeping through his tone. “Can’t snuggle for too long.”

“Just for a minute,” you insist with a smile, to which Grogu responds with an affirmative babble.

You told Din that you’ll wait with the kid in the bedroom while he’s out. And you meant it when you said it.

But now it’s been an hour, and the two of you are bored out of your mind.

No one can see into the hull. There’s not much difference between staying in the sleeping quarters and just hanging out in the safety of the lower deck. Besides, since Din joked about getting the kid his own room, your mind has wandered to the empty cubby in the hull. It’s somewhere between a cubby and a cupboard, at least, and it’s plenty deep and tall enough to make Grogu his own space. All he’d need is a little light, some blankets, some pillows. He’d love it.

So, you leave the bedroom, and head out. “Stay down here with me,” you tell Grogu—no point, really, because he can’t climb the ladder by himself anyway. But still.

As Grogu wanders around, finding mischief, you get to work.

His hammock hangs nicely in the top of the cubbyhole. You find a little flashlight to prop in the corner at the bottom, drape some fabric over it to make it less direct, diffuse it so it reflects faintly from the metal walls. You pile cushions and blankets on the floor, and make a mental note to buy some little stick-on stars for the doors when you’re next at a market. Or when you’re next able to safely go outside, period.

It looks so cosy, you wish you could fit in there. You probably could if you curled up, but it wouldn’t exactly be comfortable.

For Grogu, though, it’s just right.

And he loves it.

“Ta-da,” you’d said to him five minutes ago, dramatically opening the doors when he’d approached you curiously.

His eyes lit up. The space is glowing a cosy orange. The pillows on the floor make perfect steps for him to climb up into his hammock, which he does immediately, making some of the happiest noises you’ve ever heard him make.

“What d’you think, kid? Thought it was about time you had your own space, huh?”

He turns to look at you, grinning with an open mouth, his little teeth showing past his lips. A giggle comes from your mouth as he reaches out for your hand. You give him it, feeling him squeeze softly. He doesn’t speak Basic, or anything close to a coherent language, and yet you can feel what he’s trying to say. He’s saying Thank you.

“When was the last time you had your own space?” You ask him, knowing you won’t get an answer, but still. “Din said you were a Jedi before. I can’t imagine you’d have had much privacy as a youngling, huh?”

He coos again, tilting his head as he listens to you.

“Well, this is your home now,” you give him a smile, leaning in to kiss his little knuckles. “You’ve got your own room. You can come back to us whenever you need, though, alright?”

He coos again, and you could swear that you see him nodding.

Just as you let go of his hand, the door hisses open behind you.

You turn around and see Din standing there, barely cresting the top of the boarding ramp, his cape flowing in the wind.

“Hey,” you say, smiling lightly.

He’s just staring. Standing completely still. “Why aren’t you hidden?”

“I—we got bored.”

He stares for another minute. Then he steps inside, hits the door’s closing button with his fist, not turning his eyes away from the two of you for a second. “I told you it was dangerous to be out here.”

“No one can see us here. We’re fine.”

“It was risky. You promised me you’d stay hidden. Both of you.”

You stand up, eyes following him as he walks over to one of the weapons lockers. “I didn’t technically promise,” you counter.

His head whips around to look at you. You can’t see his face, but by the tense set of his shoulders, the clenching of his fists, you can bet he looks thoroughly unimpressed. “You gave me your word. That’s a promise.”

“Technicalities.”

He turns to face you properly. “Are you serious?”

You frown. “Yes. What’s the problem? We’re perfectly safe in here. We had stuff to do, I’ve got something to show you…”

“Stuff that was more important than staying alive?”

“It’s safe in here!” You argue, throwing your hands out to your sides. “I’m no less hidden in the hull than I was in the sleeping quarters, Din. Come on, we’re both fine. Don’t make this into a thing.”

“It was already a thing,” he shifts his weight to one leg. His voice isn’t raised, but it’s harsh, shaking. “It’s dangerous for us to be still, right now. Especially somewhere so populated. Stopping for fuel is dangerous.”

“No one can see in here.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“Are you being purposefully difficult?”

You frown deeper, and fold your arms over your chest, defensive. You’re a little offended, to be honest. Difficult? “If you don’t tell me the point, how am I supposed to understand where you’re coming from?”

“If someone had broken into the ship, they’d have found you straight away, like I just did. But if you were in the bed chamber, they’d have had to search for you, and it would have given me time to get to them first.”

You stare at him. He’s definitely right. But you’re tired and stubborn and in pain. And you’re fine. And you’ve done something that has actually made you feel useful for the first time in weeks. “Well,” you say, pushing your chin out, “we’re fine. So there’s no point in arguing about it.”

He sighs shortly, like he’s holding himself back. His helmet tilts once, his fists still clenching at his sides. “Don’t tell me you’re going to do something,” he says, voice low all of a sudden, “if you’re not going to do it. I need to be able to trust you.”

Oh. Well—that makes sense.

Guilt settles in your stomach, a feeling so familiar that it might as well just make its home there. It would hurt less.

Despite yourself, you deflate a little. “I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“I’d never force you to stay in there. But you told me you would, and I went out there believing you. Trusting that you’d be safe.”

You step closer to him, unfolding your arms. “I’m sorry,” you say again. “I am.”

He watches you. Just for a second. Then, “Okay. Thank you.”

“I, um,” you clear your throat, “have something to show you.”

“Can we get off planet first? We’ve been still for too long.”

“Of course.”

It only takes ten minutes to be back in the vastness of space again. Din climbs back down the ladder and you give him a smile, feeling your excitement and pride at your creation morph into nerves as he approaches.

“You said we should give Grogu his own room,” you say, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You gesture to the cubbyhole, where Grogu is still sitting in his hammock, playing with a stuffed toy. “I made one.”

Din stops in front of the open doors, looking down at the kid in his little space. He’s quiet for a second, but then the soft sound of a chuckle comes through his modulator, and his shoulders shake with it.

“Do you like it?” You ask.

He looks at you. “It’s very cute,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “He seems to like it. You like it, kid?”

Grogu looks up at him, tilts his head. With a happy noise, he grins.

Din chuckles again. It’s so beautiful. He looks back to you, steps closer. “He likes it.”

“I think he does,” you say with a smile, relaxing at Din’s approval.

“You know what this means?” He puts his hand on your waist, stepping close enough that you’d be able to feel his breath if he didn't have his helmet on.

“What?”

He presses his forehead to yours. When he speaks, it’s so quiet, you can barely hear it. “We’ve got the bed to ourselves. When you’re feeling better…”

You shudder. All the way from the top of your spine to the base, so strong that it almost hurts your wounds. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I guess it does mean that.” You’re trying to resist the shake in your knees, trying to keep yourself at least some level of decent in front of the kid. “Shall I make us some dinner?”

As he steps back, he nods, and pulls his satchel around to his front. “I got some supplies while I was out,” he says. “We can actually have something fresh.”

“I could really go for soup. You want soup?”

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and leans in, pressing the base of his helmet to your forehead in a beskar kiss. “Whatever you want, Cyar’ika.”

When you get into bed, exhaustion hits you like a tank.

So much that it almost makes you forget about your pain.

Din is crawling up the bed towards you after closing the door behind him. You’re alone here in this bed for the first time, and you want nothing more than to take hold of him, let him take you, let him fuck you into this mattress until it becomes somewhere sacred, somewhere that’s yours.

But, kriff. You’re fucking tired.

Din looks tired, too. He’s got his helmet on, but he’s moving slowly, tensely, like he’s sore. When he’s lying beside you, you reach out and touch his arm, running your fingers over the fabric of his flight suit. He sighs and wraps his arm over your waist. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Tired,” you murmur. You pull his arm out from beneath him, sliding it under your head so you can use it as a pillow.

He waits until you’ve shuffled into a comfortable position before settling his arm on your waist and pulling the blankets over you. “Sleep, Cyar’ika,” he tells you softly. “I’m right here.”

Sleepy, you nod. Nuzzle your nose into his chest. “Goodnight,” you manage to say as sleep comes for you fast. Heavy and welcome. You’re fucking ready to get some rest.

Except, you don’t. Not enough.

Because as soon as you fall into a dream, it becomes a nightmare. And this one is different. This one isn’t like the others; it’s not like history repeating itself, it’s not throwing you back into a memory that still hurts just as much as it did when it happened. It’s not Them hurting you, your life getting taken over in every sense, with no escape.

No, it’s not about you at all.

It’s Din.

He’s on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. His blood. Someone has a staff stabbed into his chest, just inches above his heart, and they’re twisting it, drawing pained screams from his throat. At first he has his helmet on, and he’s trying to fight back, but then They’re there, taunting you, whispering in your ear that it’s all your fault, that you brought him here, that you’re the reason he’s going to die a painful death—

Then his helmet is off, and you know that even if he survives, he can never hide again, can never feel safe behind the beskar—

You try to get to him, to rush forward. But They’re holding you back. Their hands are like knives, stinging against the glass embedded in your skin, the knife wounds so fresh and bleeding. He’s reaching for you, crying out for you, and it’s all you can do to watch as they cut him to pieces—

You don’t realise that you’re screaming his name until you start to hear it. Not just in the dream. It’s real, your voice pulling you from sleep, awareness suddenly flooding you.

“Din!” You scream one last time before your eyes fly open. They’re blurry, so blurry, tears flowing from them hot and fast down onto your cheeks. Back in reality now, but unaware of that, you’re shaking, your hands trembling. There’s something on top of you, someone’s holding you back, stopping you from getting to him, wherever he might be—

You shove and kick at the person who’s holding you, shuffling around in the bed to face them. You go to hit them, using all the meek strength you have in your sleep-hazed muscles. But there are gloved hands grabbing your arms, too soft to be an enemy, but who else can it be—?

Then, you see it.

The soft brown of a flight suit, the shiny silver of a helmet, the black of a visor.

Air leaves your lungs so quick that it hurts. “Din?” You whisper, trembling, not quite believing what you’re seeing. Your fingers are tingling. You could still be in a dream. This could be a trick. You’re still struggling in his grip.

“Hey,” his voice says, so soft even through the modulator. “Hey, Cyar’ika. It’s me, it’s me. Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart.”

You do. Through the blur of tears, you blink, and see him. His hands are so gentle around your wrists, only just firm enough to stop you from hitting him. As soon as you realise that it’s him, your arms fall to the mattress. Shame hits you hard and painful, worse than the stinging of your wounds.

“Oh, Gods,” you push yourself away from him, shuffling back towards the wall, “I’m sorry—I—did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I thought—I didn’t know it was you—”

“I’m alright,” he promises. “I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. Look at me, Cyare. Take a breath, see, I’m right here.”

Your breathing is too fast, straining your lungs. Now that you see him, you can’t look away. Your eyes are wide and panic is still coursing through you. You can’t shake the crystal clear memory of seeing him bloody and hurt and at Their mercy.

“Breathe,” he says softly. “Breathe. It’s alright. Take your time.”

It’s all you can do to listen to him. To do as he says. Without taking your eyes off him, you force yourself to take shallow breaths. It clears your head, calms the incessant buzzing under your skin. You start to realise your cheeks are absolutely drenched with tears, your shirt soaked in them.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out, I just—didn’t realise it was you…”

“It’s okay. I promise. I’m alright.”

Then, oh.

He’s alright.

Relief hits you stronger than the shame did, maybe even stronger than the dream itself. He’s here. It wasn’t real. The things you just saw have never happened, and are definitely not happening right now.

He’s here. You’re both here. Safe.

“You’re alright,” you whisper, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill over your eyes. “You’re—they didn’t hurt you…”

He pauses, confused. “Who didn’t hurt me?”

“Them,” you finally screw your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes so hard that you see stars. It’s better than the images of the nightmare that just won’t leave your mind. “It was—the dream, I—I dreamt they hurt you—”

So gently, his hands wrap around your wrists, carefully bringing your hands away from your face. “I’m alright,” he says again, this time more pointedly.

You open your eyes. Your breathing has slowed a bit. Your hands aren’t trembling as much. One of them reaches out, sits against the side of his helmet. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I woke you up. I had another nightmare.”

He shakes his head. “All I care about is that you’re okay,” he says. And you get that. Because that’s all you care about, too—that he and Grogu are okay. That’s the most important thing.

And, right now, they are.

You’re suddenly overtaken by a desperate need, not unfamiliar, but overwhelming in this moment; a need to have him. To be as close as possible to him. To feel him in every single way, to know he’s here, that he’s safe, that everything is fine. That he still wants you, even after this.

You’re moving in closer to him, tugging at his flight suit. “Din,” you whine, “please.” You’re crying again.

“What, Cyar’ika?” He asks, bringing up a hand to wipe away your fresh tears.

You shake your head. “Need you,” you say. It seems you’ve lost the ability to properly form sentences. Your hands reach up, take hold of his helmet. “Can you?” You ask. “Please?”

He nods. Without hesitation, he lifts off his helmet, places it on the bed above you.

Your hands are on him without a second thought, grasping hold of the warmth of his face in your cold hands, pushing as close as you can to him. You’re breathing fast again, but not panicked this time. Just desperate.

And you’re still kriffing crying.

You can’t get it out of your head. Seeing him like that. You can still hear yourself screaming his name; still hear him screaming yours.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m here,” he assures you, your noses pressed together. “I’m here. Hey, hey, what do you need?”

You’re just clinging to him, your hands not settling anywhere for long, trying to cover every inch of him. It’s clear that you need something, that you’re asking for it with your touch. You’re barely even in control. Blinded by need for him. “I—” you stammer, and he leans in to kiss away your tears. “Need you. Touch me, hold me. Please.”

“Baby…” He leans back to look into your eyes. You can only just see him through the tears, but you just let him look at you, too shaken to be embarrassed by how needy you are. He runs his bare hand over your face, settles it gently on your neck.

Your eyes close into the touch, a shaky breath releasing past your lips. “You’re okay,” you whisper.

“I’m here,” he reassures you. “I’m here. Nothing’s going to touch you. I promise.” His voice is shaking. Maybe you’re just imaging it.

“Don’t let them touch you, either,” you beg him. “Please. I can’t—I can’t—”

“Hey, shh,” he soothes, smoothing his palm over your hair, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Trying to let his words sink in, to let yourself believe them, you nod. “Din,” you say, “I…” you want to say it. Want to say I love you.

But everything’s so clouded. It’s the middle of the night cycle. You don’t want him to think you’re just saying it because you’re scared to lose him; because of your nightmare.

Instead, you lean in, and kiss him. Pour every ounce of desperation, of adoration, as you can into his mouth, your hand sliding back and taking a tight hold of his hair. You push into him with your hips, feeling his heat against you. As your lips move together, he gently uses his knee to part yours, sliding his thigh up between your legs. The pressure is lovely, just enough to remind you that this is real. He’s here. You’re both here, tucked into your bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Nothing can touch you. Not now.

His lips trail down to your neck in soft, lazy kisses, like he’s comforting you with them. And he is. He always is.

Your eyes stay closed as he mouths at the join of your shoulder and neck, but you feel tears stinging at them, your hand clutching at the back of his head. You just want him close, closer, closer than he can ever possibly get. Your bottom lip wobbles as your heart clenches with his touch, his kiss.

Something simmers on the edges of your consciousness. Some thought that you’re being selfish. Keeping him awake, demanding that he comfort you when he never signed up for something like this. For someone who wakes up screaming in his bed.

But—you can’t stop. You need him right now. You need to know he’s here, that he’s safe. You want him inside you, to be honest, but that really might be too much to ask, that might really be taking it too far.

“Din,” you whimper, using your hand in his hair to gently pull him away so you can look in his eyes. Your hips roll over his thigh. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He just watches, waits. Looks into your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “Tell me, Cyar’ika,” he whispers. “I’m listening.”

You nod, stroking his neck. “Please, touch me. Please. I don’t think I—I can’t—” A shuddering breath pulls into your mouth, halting your words for a minute. He just waits patiently. He always waits so patiently. (You can never fucking repay him for all of this; for him. And you wish you could.) “I just want to be close to you. I’m tired, I hurt, I’m not asking for sex, but I just…”

He shakes his head, softly cutting you off. “I hear you,” he says. His knee shifts in between your legs, and the contact against your clothed centre is perfect, just enough to send a small spark of pleasure through you, reminding you again that he’s here. That this is real.

You close your eyes, tilt your head to kiss his fingers. He’s pressing his thigh up against you, holding a constant, gentle pressure there, while his hand smooths up and down your side in long, comforting slides. You wish you could clear your blurry vision enough to look at him, to really see him. Because he’s here before you, bare-faced, and you feel like you’re wasting it.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“That’s okay. Take your time.” His hand moves around to the small of your back and presses there, splaying his fingers out. It slides down, takes a gentle hold of your ass, just hard enough that it makes you feel grounded.

You whine against him, fall into his lips like he’s a magnet, like he’s drawing you in. You kiss him slowly and messily, not really aiming for anything in particular. You just need him. Whatever he’ll give you.

His palm doesn’t leave you for a second as it slides all the way up your body, running over every curve and edge, curling around your shoulder for a second before he’s brushing hair back from your face, then cradling it, his fingers holding your cheek.

You don’t want to talk about it, you decide. He can’t know that you’re this scared. You’ve already made things hard enough, with being hunted, injured, now being the thing that stops him getting any rest.

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying into his mouth. Tears break you away from him. You wipe furiously at them before he has a chance to do it himself.

He frowns. “For what?”

“I woke you up. I’m just making things so difficult lately.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he tells you, then promptly closes his mouth like he hadn’t meant to say that. Guilt stabs hard in your chest. “You’re not making things difficult. Bad people are.”

You shake your head. “You shouldn’t have taken me on.”

He takes a firmer hold of your face. “Look at me,” he says, a crease so deep between his eyebrows it looks like someone’s drawn it there. You do as he asks, unable to do anything else. “You are not a burden. You never were, and you never will be. Do you hear me?”

“I—”

“No, listen to me. Do you think I ever saw the kid as a burden? When everyone in the Galaxy was trying to get to us, and we had to fight to survive?”

You blink at him. For a second, the crushing guilt subsides. “I…no…”

He nods, like he’s just proven his point. Which he kind of has. Then he leans in, presses a quick, pointed kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, he doesn’t move far; he’s still close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath, the press of his nose against yours. When he speaks again, his voice is just a whisper. And it’s trembling. “I promise I’ll protect you.”

Your fist bunches around the fabric of his flight suit. You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Din,” you whisper. “I…” any chance of finishing a sentence is gone. Your words only fade on your tongue before they make it past your lips. You’re so tired, still reeling.

“I’m here,” he promises. It’s still such a miracle, to be staring into his eyes. You never thought you’d have that. You never thought you’d have any of this. “Do you want to try and sleep again?”

Drawing in a deep breath, you think about it. “I think I’ll just rest,” you decide. “If I fall asleep, great, but…for now I just…” you sigh. “Hold me? Please?”

“Always, Cyar’ika,” he leans in to kiss your forehead, long and lingering. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to touch you. I promise.”

Despite it all, you manage to muster up a teasing smile. “I’d like you to touch me, actually.”

He smiles, too. It’s fucking beautiful. “Whenever you want.”

You roll over in his arms, shuffling back into him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He presses his face into the back of your neck, his arm wrapping around your waist. His breath is so warm against your skin. You lean into it, let it wrap you up and hold you tight. “Please, do.”

notes: i hope it was worth the wait! thank you as always y'all for reading, interacting, and for your lovely comments and words for this fic so far. means so much to me and makes me wanna write moreeee!

speaking of which, i have a few requests in my inbox rn and if it was you that sent one - i'm going to write it for you, i've just been hella busy, but as soon as i get chance i'll get to work! thank u for your patience my dears.

as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts.

take care of yourself xo

taglist:

@toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy

@booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1 @competitivedust @lostinsideourminds @gloryekaterina @uncle-eggy @astronymity @leithatnight @domaniquessidehoe @dancealongthelightofday-blog @loveslide @peqchsoup @jaguarthecat @starrynightsforever @djarinxore @rexamongthestars @babygirlrex0504 @dindjarindude @prentissluvr @hotchie360 @beskarandblasters @space-cowboy-like-me

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #gif cw #star wars fanfiction #mando #i only see daylight

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urbanflorals · 1 month

Text

a short chapter this time :)

@nqds and @skeelly (i just realised im just dragging you into my writing omg im so sorry)

Aurelia

Amithi found the entrance.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard that much swearing honestly.

Iris was pissed and wouldn’t stop complaining how unfair it was, Amithi wouldn’t stop gloating.

“Are you sure this is the entrance?” Harper questions, looking puzzled at the grey stone.

“Yes I’m sure!” Amithi rolls her eyes. “It’s not exactly every day that you fall through a mountain.”

I stare at the two columns, the rocks are basically floating, barely touching each other, hovering, above one another in a precarious balance that one touch could shatter.

“Well Aur, this is it,” Iris says appearing beside me. I nod, unable to speak. This is it. This is the place my Mama and Papa would tell stories about. The place that would enchant my sleep, twisting magic into my dreams in ways that made me believe that this world, hidden under a mountain, reached out to me. When I woke in the mornings, the remnants of the dream curling in the bottom of my stomach, settling, resting, as if the magic was still there.

I push forward stretching my hand out, my palm brushing just over the stone. I look back to Amithi for conformation and lean forward. There is the slightest amount of resistance for a moment before my hand falls through. A gasp escapes me before I can even think.

Its real. As much as I knew it was, the smallest part of me didn’t expect it to be real.

Childish awe surges through me as I watch the illusion of the mountain flicker around my hand. I take a deep breath and step forward, walking through the rock. My body basically ignites and the feeling that lives in my gut awakens and springs to life as if saying its home.

I step into a tunnel lit by small floating fires near the rounded ceiling.

Footsteps follow me and gasps erupt from the girls and royals. We only just stepped into a tunnel, and it already seems… more. More than the world we were just in seconds ago.

Turning around I look each of my girls in the eye, avoiding the hateful stares of the royals – who paused their scowling to look up, their eyes widening in awe.

“There is no turning back after this. I’m giving you one last chance to leave, take it or leave it.”

Iris wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into a side hug. “Aurelia, stop being stupid. None of us are leaving you. None of us. You got that?” she pulls back to look me in the eyes. “We’re with you, so shut up.”

That cracks a smile out of me.

“Alright then ladies, lets move.”

We make our way down the passageway, admiring the way the fire looks almost frozen, keeping its shape but still lighting the way.

The earthy scent of the ground twists around us and as we move deeper into the cave a gentle breeze picks up getting stronger as we walk.

When a light appears in front of us we all pause.

“Where are we coming out?” Linette asks.

“The Air Quart,” Beatrice answers before I can. She spent just as much time as me agonising over maps of the Underlands when we were younger.. It was tradition for the next weapons master and general to travel with the heir when they made the journey.

The air grows lighter and picks up twisting around each of us as if sensing our souls and testing them.

Somehow Avena passes.

Squinting against the light, I fight to see where the cave ends, the dirt ends abruptly and is replaced with lush grass so green you’d think it was dyed. I look up into the world and—

“Holy Avenstar,” Amithi breathes, her voice full of wonder – her use of the god’s name takes me by surprise considering her lack of faith in the Gods.

The world is a painting, crafted with reverence and beauty. Tall, thin trees dot the land in front of us shading the earth below. The grass and the sky meet on the horizon in a clash of bright colours. Birds mark the crystal skies, not a cloud in sight. We’re stepping into a dream. The mountain behind us is no longer there, it’s now just a steep hill the entrance to the tunnel covered in the same way it was on the other side. The only mark that it’s there is the two barely noticeable, darker swirls in the grass pointing to the opening.

The temptation to forego this entire journey and just live in this place, with butterflies and birds twittering in the air.

But anger burns in my gut. I’m not throwing this away, I’m not forgetting the sacrifices Mama, Papa and Blaire made for me to get this far.

Never.

A scream explodes into the day breaking the reverie. We hesitate for a moment before another scream rings out.

I move before I realise I am. Everyone hot on my heels following the cries of the person.

Only later when I’m about to sleep will I realise that I saw a piece of cloth on the ground outside of the entrance in the mountain.

That someone is leading the Royal Guard to us.

#ems rambles #the silent court #ems writes

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madame-fear · 2 years

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Helloooo!🥰 (I apologize for the ranting!!) Can I please request a oneshot Dark Knight Trilogy Soft Yandere!Jonathan Crane x fem!reader where she is Rachel Dawes’ younger sister (maybe in her early 20s), and she catches Jonathan’s eyes after he convinced her to come up to Arkham (she thought it was a text from her older sister asking for her to pick her up). Jonathan was going to use Y/n against Rachel, to get her to stop digging, and he was going to use the fear toxin on Y/n, BUT after meeting her he thinks she’s the most adorable human being in the world and he absolutely loves her *Insert Finding Nemo Gif*. Like she’s just completely unaware of the danger and is just talking his ear off about the most random things while sitting in his office… Ooof and then Rachel walks in and is like, “Get away from my sister!!” And eventually when he brings Y/n home with him, she’s super attached to him which makes his lil’ Yandere heart explode 😳

Omg love this plot!! I'm sorry this one took longer than usual 🥴 I absolutely love the idea of DK! Jonathan being a soft yandere tbh, I definitely picture him 😩💗

Here it goes dear!! Enjoy your reading!~❤

______________________________________

Lovestruck | DK!Soft Yandere!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Dawes!Reader

Making your way to the well-known Arkham Asylum, you were going to pick your older sister up, Rachel Dawes. Or at least, you thought you were going to pick her up. Once you arrived, you parked your car in front of the large building, and stared at it with pure awe. You felt a sudden cold breeze hit against your body, causing you to send shivers down your spine and some goosebumps.

You hurried to reach the Asylum's door so you could take your sister with you and leave before it got any colder, and finally entered the building. As you walked down the chilly halls, your eyes wandered around, and the only sound that could be heard was that of inmates and patients screaming. You have heard many things about Arkham, but you had never truly been in it.

A sudden calm, smooth voice interrupted your thoughts and full amusement. "Hello, Mrs." You quickly turned your head around, looking from where the voice had come from. His eyes kind of widened the second you turned around, your beauty had mesmerised him and there was a brief moment of silence, but he tried to keep calm. "You seem lost. May I help you?" It was like a hunter-prey encounter, but you were oblivious. His piercing icy blue eyes penetrated deep into your soul. "Oh, I uhm–" You stuttered for a bit, there was something about him that made you feel...shy. You slightly shook your head, trying to focus back again on the conversation he had initiated.

"I'm looking for my older sister, Rachel. Rachel Dawes." He looked unimpressed. "I thought she was here, so I came to pick her up." You tilted your head slightly to the side, as you looked deep into his eyes. "You're Mrs Dawes sister?" He did know you were her younger sister, he was the one who actually bought you here. His plan was use you against Rachel, and fear gas you, but seeing how "sweet" and "adorable" your personality was, he was beginning to think of taking it back.

"Ehrm, yes, I am. I'm her younger sister." His whole intimidating vibe caused you to stutter, there was something about him that made you nervous. "She's been frequenting Arkham because she's been investigating something related to here. Not sure exactly what she's doing because she didn't tell me much about it, but I do know she's been around here." You shyly looked down, and briefly stopped talking for a moment. Before he could even say something, you spoke again. "I think she's told me a few things about you. Dr Jonathan Crane?" You looked back at him, flashing him a broad smile.

He was actually surprised that you knew about him, but he couldn't do anything else but smile back at you. "Yes. Nice to meet you." You extended your hand, so he could shake it. "I'm (Y/N) Dawes." He looked down at your hand, and gently shook it. Your hands were so delicate and soft, he felt his cheeks get slightly flustered.

Your moment was suddenly interrupted by an inmate yelling and shouting, threatening to murder someone. The unexpected situation made you quickly turn your head around, looking at where the screaming came from, while he just looked unimpressed. "I guess you're already used to these things happening often." You quietly muttered to him, as you released your grip from his hand. "I've been working here for a long time, so yes, I'm used to it, my dear." You chuckled at his comment. From what your sister had told you about Dr Crane, you thought he would be ruthless, and emotionless, but he seemed to be far away from it...at least, for you.

"Would you like to visit my office?" He gently asked you, with a smile. You were actually thrilled to hear his offer! You never thought you'd go this far with him that quickly. "Yeah, sure, I'd love to!" Your childish excitement was too visible, and he found that to be adorable. He then signaled you to follow him, and you did as told, and followed him around as if you were a lost puppy. As you walked through Arkham, you looked everything that surrounded you.

It had some dreadful and eerie vibes, yes, but it was fascinating for you. It was even more bizarre than you had heard about, and imagined. The horrifying screams of the homicidal patients echoed through the entire building. You snapped out of your thoughts as you realised you had automatically stopped walking, since you had already arrived to Dr Crane's office. He opened the door, letting you in first. Once you fully entered the office, you kept staring everywhere, as he closed the door behind you. "Ooh, I like it." You softly said, turning around to look at him, still visibly excited. You carefully the chair that was standing in front of his desk, and sat. "You know, this whole building has some creepy vibes, but I like it. My sister told me lots of things about this place, but I had never really visited it." There was something about you that was so eye-catching for him, but he was clueless about what was so enchanting about you.

His plan of bringing you to Arkham and taking you to his office had worked, but what was the point, anyways? He had regretted the idea of fear gassing you only to stop your sister from investigating him, because he found you to be lovely, and adorable as well. You were so, so clueless about the potential danger that surrounded you. You were so talkative, and you didn't care about speaking out all your thoughts.

Only a few minutes passes, and you were the one who was mostly talking. Expressing how bizzarely delighted you were to meet him, and that you found him interesting. He had also talked to you about his early years of his career, and the things he was working on. It had been only half an hour that you were there, talking to him, but it felt eternal – in a good way, of course.

Time passed, and suddenly, the faint sound of a small commotion could be heard outside his office, causing you to turn around. You assumed it that the normal chaos of, maybe, a patient trying to escape or not wanting to take it's meds, so you didn't pay much attention to that. What did catch your attention, was the sound of quick footsteps walking towards Dr Crane's office.

The door was violently open, causing your conversation with Jonathan to forcefully stop, and turn around to look who was the person who just opened the door. It was your sister. "Rach–?" Before you could manage to say something entirely, she tightly grabbed your arm, and pulled you closer to her. "Get away from my sister!" She shouted at Jonathan, you were so confused about the whole situation, but there wasn't much you could do or say, since she immediatly took you out of Arkham after shouting at Jonathan.

Since you were already out of Arkham, without having properly said 'goodbye' to Dr Crane, you were heading back towards your home. On your way, your sister scolded you about being unaware of the danger, and that Jonathan Crane was a potentially dangerous person.

You did pay attention to her, but you were confused about the things she said. Was it true that he was dangerous? You weren't so sure about it after having meeting him. He seemed rather...sweet, towards you, and absolutely understanding. Even if you listened to her scolding, your mind was fully occupied on something else: Jonathan Crane. Racing thoughts about getting away from your sisters claws and giving him a surprise visit passed through your head. It wasn't a bad idea, at all.

------ Eventually, time passes ------

You knew your sister was going to be fully occupied today, which was absolutely perfect for you to escape your home without her knowing, and of course, visit Arkham once again after quite a long time. Goosebumps filled your body at the thought of it, but it made you feel excited! You had enjoyed the small chat you had with Dr Crane, and was looking to get to know him better. He had an enchanting, yet enigmatic vibe.

You made your way back to Arkham Asylum, you were actually kind of nervous about it, but you were eager to see him once again. You slowly walked towards the large doors, and entered the building, scanning the whole place with your eyes, looking for Jonathan. You thought he was surely going to be in his office, so already knowing where it was, you increased your pace, making your way towards his office. You took a long breath, and nervously exhaled.

(Un)surprisingly, you nearly bumped into him in the halls. You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and looked up at his beautiful face, with a broad smile formed on your lips. "Oh, hi! I was looking for you, Dr Crane!" You said, as some small giggles escaped through your lips. You were clearly clueless about his initial plans involving you, but you were so incredibly sweet and adorable.

The fact that even after your sister dragged you out of Arkham and told him to stay away from you, but you came back again looking for him, made his heart beat fast and melt in emotions he didn't think he was capable of feeling. "You were?" It wasn't hard to notice, he was clearly confused about the situation, yet delighted, because you came back for him. Something that no one had done before. "Yes! I was." A small smile began forming on his lips. God, how could you be so cute?

"I thought, you wouldn't come back. Especially after your sister practically dragged you out of my office last time you were here." His voice was soft, and even if he wouldn't admit it, he was slightly nervous to be around you. He felt so close to you, and he couldn't stop thinking about the small meeting you had. You shook your head in response. "You know, I heard many bad things about you, but you proved me otherwise. You are so enchanting, and there's something about you that makes me want to be near you." Your confession made him raise his eyebrows at you, did you really think all of that? Or were you just trying to get information out of him?

No. The thought of you trying to get info out of him just didn't feel right, he knew it wasn't that.

"Oh." He paused for a brief moment. He was actually speechless about what you just said. "I'm glad to hear that...I guess. I also enjoyed the time we spent together. We could get to know each other if you like, Mrs Dawes." He could see a small sparkle in your eyes, your smile growing wider, and your cheeks became red with blush. "Really?" Now, your voice was shy. It was unbelievable for you! You had a small growing crush on him, and your heart was overjoyed with emotions. "I-I'd like that. When?!" There was a certain childish-ness in you that he absolutely adored and hoped to see more of that sweet, loving side of you.

"I'm free today after 8:15. Perhaps, I can take you to my home, and we can meet each other properly." His voice was still trying to sound calm, but on the inside he was losing it at how he began feeling for you. He was going to take you to his home, after all this time. His fantasies were becoming true. "I'd love that!" You truly surprised him by throwing yourself at him, arms wrapped around his tall figure. He was tense under your touch, and you felt that, but you didn't mind.

It took him a few good seconds until he placed his arms around you, and slightly rubbed your back. "Thank you, Dr Crane." You softly mumbled under your breath, just enough for him to hear it. “It’s alright. You can call me Jonathan, if you want to, my dear.” He softly said, as he kept gently rubbing your back. "Jonathan..." He loved how his name sounded coming from your mouth. His heart exploded with intense love, and a slight obsession for you began growing inside of him. "Thank you, once again. You can call me (Y/N), too." You softly murmured.

You released your tight grip from his body, and tip-toed so you could gently kiss his cheek, causing his cheeks to get hot. How could this be so real? This felt like an absolute dream for him. "See you later, then?" You asked, before leaving the chilly, large building. "See you later, my darling." He kept his voice calm, as he watched you leave. You were actually pretty proud of yourself for causing him a blush. As you walked out of the building, his mind was quickly replaying what had just happened over and over again.

He was absolutely infatuated with the affection you had only for him, it made him feel kind of...special. And of course, he had never felt that way towards someone. The fact that you were so emotionally attached to him like no one had ever been before made him feel over the clouds, and his heart melted at the new sensations.

Everytime he thought about you, it was like there was a growing obession inside of him. He had the need of getting to know you better, to feel himself close to you. He needed you to be only his. This feeling wouldn't leave, it constantly kept growing as seconds passed, especially, those moments he was there with you. Your affection towards him had formed a soft spot only for you inside of him.

He was going to make sure you had eyes only for him. No matter how much time that takes, and no matter what it takes; but you are his sweet darling now, and you'll always be. He was absolutely Lovestruck.

________________________

Hope you like it dear! Once again, I'm sorry for taking long with this one, and I hope it's what you expected! 🥰♥️

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silverutahraptor · 4 months

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We live for another year! (unlike Izuna T-T ) So a prompt! Whats your take on an AU where Madara uses his eyes to send his soul(and maybe Izuna or the other founders!?) into the future after they die, to be like reincarnated and stuff....what if Madara and Izuna wake up in the bodies of dead children during the massacre?

Anon. MY HEART,,,,

okay so first of all, for dttb/my Izuna In Canon timetravel fic one of my alternate ideas was to have Izuna wake up as Sasuke, which was… a special kind of fun :) I decided to go with the fic as it is now, but I did think about it a lot back then. So the following drabble is in part inspired by my considerations back then.

I also love pain, so here you go with a lil Izuna POV for “what if Madara and Izuna wake up in the bodies of dead children during the massacre?” under the Read More. It totally didn’t take me down a rabbit hole of “omg that would be so neat” and I absolutely didn’t spend a whole lot of time on it

Izuna wakes up to, unsurprisingly, find himself bleeding from a deep wound in his chest and fierce pain radiating through his entire body, making his thoughts hazy. The latter might explain why his chakra stores feel utterly parched, his hands when he tries to instinctively reach for a weapon are… tiny, and he’s… surrounded by bodies? Very small bodies. Izuna wipes at his face and succeeds in dragging himself into a mostly upright position. Then he startles badly because there’s someone else in the room. “Izuna. Izuna!” The kid—a girl—hissing his name while grabbing his shoulders painfully tight is unfamiliar beyond the typical Uchiha features, but the way she says his name… The way her eyes spin into a Sharingan and then further into a dizzying and achingly familiar Mangekyou pattern. “Nii-san?” Izuna rasps against all hope, spattering flecks of blood across the girl’s pale face. “Yes,” she says and presses one of her hands right atop of the stab wound on Izuna’s chest. “I… something went wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen, I—you weren’t supposed to be still hurt.” The hand begins to glow a dim green, and almost immediately Izuna can breathe a little easier. Izuna has a lot of things to say, most of which include shouting, questions, and shouting questions, but the girl’s—no, Nii-san’s… this is going to be so confusing—Madara’s chakra is nowhere near the usual hurricane flood and draining frightfully fast even as Izuna feels less and less like he’s still dying. “That’s enough, stop,” he demands and follows it up by shoving Madara away. They stare at each other. Izuna now, however small he is, is still nearly a head taller than the girl’s body Madara has somehow ended up in. “...perhaps my imouto can explain the situation a bit more,” Izuna eventually says, the corners of his mouth twitching despite everything. He knows this is Madara, he knows that they’re both alive somewhere they shouldn’t be; but together, what can they not figure out? What can they not do? The girl—Madara huffs. “Well, you died, and then—” The room is suddenly filled with shinobi, strangers, in bone-white animal masks. It’s only the rapid flick of a single handsign from Madara—so quick it looks nearly accidental—that stops Izuna from burning everything around the two of them with a Katon. Follow. There’s some irony in this; usually it’s Izuna telling his brother to wait before turning to decisive action, to gather more intel before striking. But Izuna has a feeling Madara knows far more about this situation, far more about these strangers-maybe-enemies than he does at the moment, and he trusts him. For now, he’ll play the part of a small and injured child just like Madara will.

Further thoughts:

Okay, ngl, the first thing going through my mind after reading your prompt was “WHAT IF Madara… but reincarnated into a tiny girl?” + Izuna immediately and gleefully regarding himself as an older brother because of that :D

putting both of them into the bodies of killed children and using that to put some constraints on the power they can wield at first (Izuna being injured, tiny chakra stores, etc.) is a neat way to introduce some tension and also force them to interact with the current Konoha, as imo if they had all their original power they might just decide to flatten the entire Village immediately.

You also mentioned “other Founders” but consider: there are very few conveniently killed Senju or Uzumaki descendants around for certain people to be reincarnated into.

Thanks for the prompt, anon! I hope you liked my answer!

#uchiha izuna #uchiha madara #dttb #don't trust them brother #raptor writes #my writing #prompt raptor hours #naruto founders #naruto #fanfic #ask #writing prompt

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vigilante-izuku · 1 year

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It’s been a day when you finally step into the elevator to go home. Your body is exhausted, drained, and all you can do is close your eyes to get even just a moment to recollect, to gather yourself back.

The elevator door dings open and your eyes snap open.

In front of you is a ridiculous gorgeous man. His clean shaved jaw, his striking beautiful nose, and then those deep brown eyes worthy of an artist pallet, all stun you.

And then he smiles, the kind of smile that seems so kind and touches his eyes.

You politely smile back.

You step aside in the lift out of reflex and he steps in. It’s just you two now.

“Hey thanks.” Of course his voice is dreamy. Why wouldn’t it be?

His sharp business attire makes you feel as if he’s going to pull out a feds badge or maybe try to sell your insurance. You simply keep you eyes on the elevator buttons trying not to be weird and flat out stare at this way too handsome man.

“I’m sorry,” suddenly the mystery elevator man speaks and you stiffen. “I don’t have any time so I’m simply going to come out and say what I need to say.”

Now you’re worried and really confused. Your face whips to the man who is staring so directly at you and your stomach drops. What was going on?

“My name is Marcus and I’m you’re guardian angel, i only have about five minutes until this elevator is going to snap and fall. I need you to step out with me on this next floor coming up.”

A moment passes.

And then you bust out laughing.

“What the fuck?” You wheeze. “Is this for a YouTube video? Or a tiktok?”

Is this what gets views these day?

Suddenly the man says your name.

Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops and you are sure your brain does a hard rest.

“What the fuck?” You repeat again but this time it’s a soft horrified whisper.

The elevator dings, a silent little thing but one that feels like a herald of something you can’t even describe. The doors slide open and no one is there on the floor.

Your heart hammers loud in your ears.

What the hell was going on? What do you do?

Your name is said strong, piercing through your thoughts and when you turn to the man in the elevator his eyes seem like coals on fire.

“Do you trust me?” His voice is steeled, confident, but so gentle. He’s not yelling or being rude.

And your mouth opens, nothing comes out. You don’t think it can. Your mind even goes blank.

Then the moment happens fast.

The whirl of machinery comes. It creaks and whines of metal clashing against metal. The elevator suddenly shakes a violent thing.

Your body is then picked up, actually scooped up into the arms of another. In a jump of a movement you’re on the elevator and then not. You’re on the other side of the door, on the safety of the campus floor.

You think you hear the flutter of wings. But it’s overshadowed by the metal screeching that rings out louder, crashing and groaning until finally a SNAP cracks in the air.

A gasp or maybe even a cry of panic jumps out of your throat as you whip your head back.

The elevator falls right before your eyes.

Your body is slowly, steadily lowered to the ground until your feet touch the bad tacky colored carpet. Your legs want to give out but your hands stay clutching the blazer of the man still standing steadily beside you.

Someone yells to call maintenance or 911 and someone pushes past you to look down the elevator. This shove of another body jolts you back to reality, knocks your soul back into you.

You immediately turn to look at your elevator man and find-

No one is there besides you.

(or aka in honor of pedro's birthday today and me being so proud of you, here is guardian angel marcus pike OK BYE)

THE WAY THIS HAS ME GASPING OMG ERIKA 😍😍😍😍😍😇😇😇😇

#eri's answers #GUARDIAN ANGEL MARCUS PIKE LETS GOOOOO #marcus pike x reader

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formerlyjannafaye · 2 years

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In response to your question about favourite Mileven moments, let me share a few of mine:

* Season 1: the first meeting — we know now that Mike was basically thunderstruck by El the very first moment he saw her, and the cinematography sets this up perfectly. The raging storm, the literal bolts of thunder and lightning as Mike turns his flashlight to El, the long holding shot of the two just staring rapt at one another. But it’s all the quiet moments in this season too. Mike shows such gentle patience with El, helping to establish and respect boundaries like privacy, making her laugh, making her feel safe. He’s so soft with her. He centres her and cherishes her from the start.

* Season 2: the reunion — even now, I cannot watch this scene without getting teary. We’ve seen the raw longing for one another from both Mike and El. He calls her every day, he never gives up hope; she visits him in the Void in lieu of being able to see him in real life, and they are living miserable half-lives apart from one another. The reunion feels earned, and the acting from both is off the charts. You see a million emotions cross both their faces as soon as they see one another. As the Runaway Max book says, all the “pinched meanness” that had been etched into Mike’s face for a year just vanishes in that moment. A close second is of course the Snow Ball. It’s so sweetly romantic, Mike makes himself vulnerable to El, they will learn how to slow dance together and that’s when you really feel that’s it’s the first of so many things they will learn together and from each other over the course of their lives. It’s soul mate energy of the sweetest, gentlest kind, and holds so much promise.

* Season 3: physical touch — I did not love S3, and while it’s not vintage Mileven, there’s still so much to appreciate. My heart was so happy just watching them being able to hang out, make out, spend time together. It was extremely necessary. But it wasn’t all hormones. This is where you notice how tethered they are to one another, their shared orbit. Even when nominally on a break, they can’t stop touching, seeking out one another for physical reassurance in moments of danger, stress, anxiety. Their bonds run deep, and cannot be severed.

* Season 4: the ‘I love you’ — I did have to suspend my belief slightly that Mike had never even written “love” in a letter, but the Duffers sold it to me in the end. I love this season for underscoring just how much Mike demonstrates his love for El, he’s very “show” but not yet “tell”. His love language of acts of devotion and physical touch are so very clear — a promise ring, a million letters, a handpicked bunch of flowers, zany outfit in El’s favourite colours. El is so excited to see Mike she can hardly breathe. They are so connected, tethered, in tune that being apart makes them lesser versions of themselves. It’s shown through the eventual “I love you” — Mike’s singular, unswerving, from-the-very-first-moment love uplifts El, it buoys and raises her, it gives her courage, confidence, surety to be her best self. It’s beautiful — their love is deep, binding (“I don know how to live without you “) and UNCONDITIONAL (“I love you on your good days, I love you on your bad days”). Unconditional love is so crucial to El, who has only ever known affection and positive reinforcement for her ‘magical’ accomplishments. The unwavering love of Mike makes her soar.

I literally could not be happier about where these two are at come the end of S4. Apparently, the OG groups are coming back in S5, and I live for Mike displaying heart, leadership and being the ultimate hype man for El. Power couple. Dream team. My OTP ❤️🫶🏻

OMG, I read this when I first woke up this morning and I still can't properly respond to it. This is beautiful. And all true. And I am dizzy.

I have always loved the way the camera zooms in and focuses on Mike after they find El. The Duffers did not do that on accident. Have you ever seen the script for that page? *SWOON* Please go find it and read it if you haven't - the Duffers had a plan from the beginning and we are enjoying the fruits of it!

I think that while S2 kept Mike and El apart for almost the entire season, which was so hard after seeing them together for all of season 1, it allowed them to have a relationship that is as epic and deep as it is, because, as you said, they are miserable without each other. It is incredibly clear that this goes beyond some silly crush. Their reunion also still makes me tear up to this day. THE ACTING. MY GOD we are so lucky to have Finn and Millie at the helm of these characters. GOD. I've never seen anything like it. That might be my favourite scene of ST period.

I am SOOOO with you about S3 - when I see people say 2 is the worst and 3 is their fave or second fave I'm like, what?!?! BUT I am so thankful for the Mileven it gave us, and how happy El was, genuinely happy. They got a few months to be together and make out and be normal happy teenagers and heal a bit from their time apart and I'm glad we got to see it! I wish we could see it more but I know, unless there's a flash forward epilogue, we won't get to see them just happy and settled again. So I treasure it.

You take on S4 - what could I possibly add?! You got it, boo. I agree 1 million percent. Your summary makes me want to end this reply and start writing fan fiction - which I'm literally going to do!

THANK YOU FOR SCREAMING WITH ME!

#please come share your beautiful thoughts on our otp ANY TIME #you are welcome here friend #mileven #do you write fan fic? you should #st4 spoilers #asks

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bisexualnathanyoung · 2 years

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Ok but pls post the soul crushing oc piece nobody wants… I want

Okay, anon, just for you ❤️ someone actually caring about my writing omg

Context is basically that Mel’s mum is an inpatient facility for alcoholism and probably other diagnosed mental illnesses I just haven’t put a name to them bc I’m not a psychiatrist or anything but long story short, Mel is telling her mum that she’s pregnant. It also includes a flashback from baby Mel that came out of nowhere, but it’s there. Idk what the fuck is up with this formatting, but I just pasted it from my google docs so oh well.

TW: pregnancy, big feelings of being unwanted and distrust of her mother, miscarriage (implied)/fertility issues, divorce mention, little baby Mel getting blamed for things that aren’t her fault :(, hospital mentions, birth mentions

Word count: 1.6k

I took a breath; I signed in, and I waited for her.

I watched her walk in. She looked better and better each time I’d come up there. This was the second week she’d started wearing makeup again after they’d allowed my aunt to bring her some. She was starting to look more like herself, which scared me in a way. But I was already scared. How do you tell your mother you’d make the same choice she had after years of screaming that you’d never be like her? I could leave at any moment. I didn’t owe her anything. She was doing better. She was trying. I still didn’t trust her. I didn’t know how much time would have to pass before I trusted my child alone with my mother.

I walked up to hug her before we sat down at a table.

“You look good,” I said with a small smile. Trying to hide my nerves. My powers were calm which was a good sign.

“You say that every time you see me,” she said with a laugh.

“Well, it’s true,” I smiled back.

“Hadn’t seen you in a little while. Been busy?” She asked.

I nodded. I started tearing up. My hands were hidden under the table.

“Work… had a doctor’s appointment a couple weeks ago,” I bit down on my lip.

Her eyebrows knit together. She looked concerned, “Are you alright? It’s not cancer, is it?”

I shook my head. I stared at my hands and shoved my fingers into my palms.

“‘S alright, love. You don’t have to say anythin’ you don’t want to…” she responded in a calm tone. I sat there for a moment. Not crying. She knows. She has to know. I refused to look at her. I don’t know what I thought she would do. I was simply terrified.

“How’s Nathan?” she asked, “still around?”

“He’s good,” I smiled a bit. I wiped my eye, “I should’ve brought him with me. I ruined things when you met him. I haven’t even told you how much he means to me.”

“I ruined it,” she said, “don’t blame yourself for shit that I did.” I stopped myself from saying maybe I wouldn’t if you hadn’t my entire life.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. I finally looked at her.

She nodded, “I can tell.” For some reason, I ran my now calmed down hands over my tiny bump.

“I’m only twelve weeks tomorrow. How can you tell?!” I crossed my arms.

“You’ve been pregnant for two months and didn’t tell me?” Oh great now she’s upset. I’m fat, and she’s upset.

“I haven’t known very long… I was scared. I thought you’d,” I started crying, “I thought you’d give me the big lecture on how now I know… now I know how awful it was for you… but it’s not awful. I mean it’s stressful and scary, and I keep getting sick, but… but I just… I don’t know!”

One of the staff of the facility walked up to us, “Do we need to cut the visit short?” I realized how many eyes were on me and put all of my focus on not triggering my power.

My mum shook her head, “She’s my only daughter, and she’s just told me she’s pregnant. She’ll be okay.”

The man in scrubs looked back at me, “If you need to go, you can.”

I also shook my head, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he said, “you need to feel those strong emotions. I was just making sure nobody needed a break or was getting hurt or anything like that.”

I took a deep breath, “I’ve calmed down. I’m excited for my baby… hormones… scary.” I shrugged.

He nodded, “Congratulations.”

I nodded back, and he walked away.

My mum grabbed my hand under the table, “wow,” was all she said. I squeezed her hand.

“So you’re having it?” She asked.

“I hope so,” I said, “anything can happen…”

She nodded, “you know how much trouble I had with George.”

Her first husband. The whole teen pregnancy drama that created me never resulted in marriage. But George did. The only good thing she’d ever had. They wanted a family together so badly. We lived in the country in a hundred year old house that was falling apart, but we made it work. And yet two of those rooms always felt so empty. It certainly wasn’t my first memory of feeling unwanted by my mother, but it was the first time I knew. I was six years old. They’d been married for nearly a year. George was my dad. I didn’t know anyone else until I’d found contact with my biological father two years later. George thought it’d be good for me. My mother disagreed. Anyway, I’d woken up. It could’ve been 9pm; it could’ve been 2am. I just knew it was dark, and my mother was sobbing. I’d already gotten in the habit of taking care of her. I’d watch how George was talk to her softly and hold her. Give her tissues and cigarettes and whatever else she needed. But he worked eleven hours a day, and my mother didn’t. So I would take care of her during the day.

But it was night time. I couldn’t hear George’s voice through the wall, so I needed to take action. I got out of bed and began to walk to their room. Then, I heard him. Smooth, soft, soothing Welsh accent.

“It’s alright, love,” he said barely above a whisper, “We’ll get you to the doctors in the morning. You’re going to be alright. It’s okay.”

And the antithesis that was my mother. Loud. Fast. Panicked. Almost unintelligible north of York accent surrounded by sobs.

“I just want a fuckin’ baby, Geo! I wan’ t’ have a family with you. Start our fuckin’ lives. I dunno. I’m fuckin’ useless as shite sittin’ round all the time!” She continued to cry as I bit at my tiny finger nails.

“We do have a family, sweet. We’ve got our little Mel, and all the wee puppies outside. We’ve got a family. Nothin’s gonna change that,” I took a couple steps closer to the door at the mention of my name. Maybe I could help… then my mother fucking screamed, and I jumped near out of my skin.

“I don’t. Want her!”-

My step-father cut her off, “don’t say that-

“She’s the reason this is happening! She fucking ruined my body! We’re playing fucking happy families! She’s not your daughter, George! She never will be! She’s a fucking reminder of a mistake that stopped me from ever having a life I could’ve wanted! My father could’ve walked me down the aisle if I hadn’t had her… Our baby would be me changin’ things,” she dissolved into a mess of tears. And so did I. But like most times in my life. My mother was louder.

“How could you say that?” George began. He was a bit louder now, but I didn’t care. I ran into my room and hid under the covers.

He woke me up in the morning. My mother was still in her room as I ate my breakfast.

“When my mummy runs away from you, I can stay here?” I asked.

I still remember the look of shock on his face, “your mummy’s not running away from me. We’re married. That’s forever.”

I’d learn that forever lasts approximately five years and three months.

I nodded, “Nathan reminds me of George sometimes.”

She shrugged, “he was useless like every other man on this planet.”

I ignored her comment, “we’re really excited.”

She squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile, “good, I’m happy for you. I’ve got two more weeks before my stay is over. I want to help you in any way I can.” Just to let me down like always? I wanted to believe in her. I believed she was getting better. I was scared to let her back in my life at all. She was trying… but I didn’t know if she could ever change.

I let go of her hands and placed them on my tiny bump that I thought wasn’t noticeable, “I think I want to give birth at home.” I didn’t trust my power. I assumed whatever generators the hospital had in place would be better off if I’d shot the power from afar. If the lights went off in my flat, we could use torches to help me and my baby. I was scared to cause that much chaos in a hospital.

She widened her eyes, “that’s extremely dangerous. Are you mental?” Yes, I am, but that’s aside from the point.

“No. I’m speaking with a midwife in a couple of weeks. Nathan’s scared of the idea too. I’m weighing my options,” I explained.

She shook her head, “okay,” she let out a breath.

“Thank you for telling me,” she continued, “I love you.” I still had a hard time believing that.

“I love you too,” I smiled.

“Jesus… being a grandmother at 36… fuck. Condom break? No offense, love, but I thought you were smarter than me,” she added. Can never have anything nice, can I?

“We wanted to have a baby,” I lied, “I love him. He loves me. We’re having a baby.” That part wasn’t a lie.

Her jaw dropped. She blinked a couple of times. She closed her mouth.

“I… alright…” she said, “did I miss the wedding?” She grabbed my hand again and said, “I’m sorry, Mel, I didn’t know. You’re so involved with this man that you’re having a child with him, and I had no idea. I’m going to be there for my grandchild. I’m so happy for you.” The second time she’d said seemed a lot more convincing than the first.

“Thanks, Mum,” I stood up, “I’ll be in touch.” She stood up, and we hugged again.

She was teary-eyed, “you’re going to be an amazing mum, love. Much better than I ever was.”

“I know,” I said, turned around, and walked away.

#my writing #oc; melanie albright

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