#upon thinking both at one am and at eight am i have determined that someone i love very much stole my gender

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, Day 4: Water

Two in one day! Who is she? She's powerful! I chose water for the theme of today because the idea of Spock learning to swim was irresistible. I hope you enjoy!

Also posted on AO3 here.

☆ ☆ ☆

Kirk had promised Bones that there was nothing on this planet that could possibly impact their away mission, which, upon reflection, was nearly certainly why things had gone sideways as soon as the shuttle entered the atmosphere. 

It was a milk-run day, as the bridge crew called their less eventful assignments from HQ. They were on the edges of Alpha Quadrant, taking samples of air and water and microbiological life forms from a planet that hadn’t so much as developed a millipede yet. 

The funny thing was, Kirk mused, as Spock carefully guided their dead shuttle towards the endless ocean beneath them, was that if they had decided to beam down to the surface instead, everything would have been fine.

But there was something in the atmosphere that had changed the combustion rate of the engine (“A 0.00085% chance of occurrence, captain,” Spock had said calmly as the engine stuttered into silence) and had derailed their plans for an uneventful couple of hours on the surface of the planet. They hadn’t even taken security officers. Spock’s favorite scientists were monitoring some high-touch fungi growth experiment, and Kirk knew that Spock himself was curious to study a planet so early in its development, so they had elected to go, just themselves. Like a date, Kirk thought, watching Spock expertly slow their fall with the shuttle’s emergency parachute, deploy the inflatable underlayer of the shuttle, and bring them to a careful landing on the surface of the ocean. Naturally our first date goes to hell immediately. 

Spock checked the readouts from the dashboard of the shuttle and raised one eyebrow. God, Kirk loved that eyebrow. “The composition of both the ocean and the air are astonishingly similar to Earth, captain. Certainly M-class, with a breathable atmosphere for oxygen-reliant life forms and a sodium-heavy ocean. Ambient temperature reads at ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit, and water temperature at seventy-eight. ”

“So it’s safe to go outside?” 

Spock hesitated. “Insufficient data. I am unable to determine what factor would have prevented the engine from continuing on impulse power.” 

“But I am not an engine on impulse power, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and smiled. He pulled his comm from his belt and flipped it open. “Kirk to Scotty. How are things up there?”

“Oh, just fine, captain,” Scotty’s voice said from the comm. “Everything alright down there? Looked like your engine turned off mid-flight.”

“Something like that, Mr. Scott. Is there anything on the Enterprise’s sensors about the atmosphere that we should be aware of?”

“Negative, captain. All normal readings for an M-Class planet, according to our Mr. Chekov. Shall we beam you up immediately?”

“Oh, leave us for a moment, won’t you? I don’t think there’s anything down here to cause us too much harm.” 

“As you like, captain. I’m sure Mr. Spock would appreciate the chance to take what readings he can.” Spock inclined his head towards the comm, but if Scotty’s consideration of his desires took him by surprise, his face didn’t reveal it. 

“Alright. We’ll check in by the hour. Someone ask Bones to be on standby, if you don’t mind.” 

Spock looked up, eyebrow at high alert, as Scotty asked, “Problem, captain?”

“Not yet, Mr. Scott. But I’d hate to waste the opportunity for a swim, and better safe than sorry. Spock says the water’s warm.” 

Spock spluttered, “I said no such thing, captain,” as Scotty’s cheerful laughter burbled over the comms. “I’ll let him know, captain. Enjoy yourself.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Scott. Kirk out,” Kirk said, and snapped his comm shut with his hip as he pushed himself out of the navigator’s seat. 

“Captain, your leaps of logic never fail to astound,” Spock said, hovering a half-step behind him as Kirk shrugged out of his tunic and pants into just his undershirt and boxer briefs. 

“Come on, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and turned to smile at him. “We’re already here. You wanted to take readings of the water. The water is perfectly warm, and it’s a sunny day. There’s not even so much as a jellyfish on this planet to sting me.”

They climbed out on top of the shuttle. The sun was warm against the black of Kirk’s t-shirt, and a light breeze from the direction he thought might have been landward ruffled the surface of the water. Spock, still dressed in science blues and even his boots, relaxed minutely in the warmth. 

“Nice weather, isn’t it?” Kirk said cheerily, and stepped towards the edge of the shuttle. It was less than five feet from the top of the shuttle to the surface of the water. He had dived from higher platforms on Earth for fun before. Spock peered over the edge of the shuttle next to him. 

“Will you join me, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked. “You’ll have to get closer to the water than this if you care to take samples.” Spock gave the water a side-eyed glance that bordered on distaste, and then it dawned on Kirk. 

“You don’t know how to swim!” 

“Vulcan is a desert planet, captain,” Spock said stiffly. He had his tricorder gripped tightly between both hands. “Swimming would have been an illogical use of a limited and necessary resource.”

“Well, this doesn’t look like a limited resource to me.” Kirk sat on the edge of the shuttle’s roof and slid down towards the inflated platform that kept the shuttle from sinking. It rather reminded him of an inner tube from his childhood. It was rough under his bare feet, and the water that splashed up was pleasantly warm. 

Spock peered down at him from where he remained on top of the shuttle. Kirk looked up at him and planted his hands on his hips. “How were you planning on taking these samples without getting in the water, Mr. Spock?”

“Starfleet standard-issue boots are waterproof, captain. I would have merely remained on the shore and taken samples from the shallowest points.” 

“Ah, but then your samples would have been half-sand, anyway. If you come down here, you’ll get water. Better for your research, I think.” 

Spock narrowed his eyes. He knew when Kirk was teasing him, but Kirk didn’t think he minded as much as he used to. “Come on, Spock,” Kirk said, and held his hand out. “I’m not going to let you drown.” 

Spock didn’t take his hand, but that didn’t surprise Kirk. He did carefully slide down the side of the shuttle to join Kirk on the inflatable, however. “I am significantly more dense than you, captain. Should I fall off and sink, you’d be better off asking Mr. Scott to beam us out.” He levered himself carefully to a seated position, cross-legged, with his back against the shuttle and his tricorder pointed at the water. For a moment, Kirk had a mental image of a child-sized Spock, sitting cross-legged in the desert, watching some sort of insect under a magnifying glass, and his heart twinged. He turned away from his science officer and dipped one foot in the water. It was warm, and slightly gritty---just like he remembered oceans on Earth. He launched himself off the inflatable and into the water. When he resurfaced, Spock was wiping water off his tricorder screen with the edge of his sleeve and frowning at him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, laughing. “Did I ruin your readings?” 

“No,” Spock said stiffly. Kirk smiled at him and tipped his head back, allowing the air in his chest to pull him upwards so that he was floating on the water. Sunshine, and water, and a breeze---these were not normally things he missed while in space. Normally the sight of the stars around him and the comforting hum of the Enterprise’s engine were enough for him. But now, while he had the comforts of gravity and water and warmth, he found it surprisingly pleasant. So, listening to the familiar rustle of Spock doing some sort of science just a few feet away, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, Spock had taken off his boots and rolled up his pants and was sitting with his feet dangling from the side of the inflatable into the water. Kirk paddled over and treaded water nearby. “What do you think, Mr. Spock?” 

“A curious sensation, captain, but not an unpleasant one.” Spock swung one leg forward, then the other, creating little ripples in the water. 

“I’ll teach you to swim, if you want to get in,” Kirk said. Spock hesitated. “It’s not hard, I promise. Human children can be taught to swim at only a few months old.” 

“I find that difficult to believe, captain.”

“It’s true! Something about it being a familiar environment after nine months in utero.” Spock considered this, and looked up at the sun in the sky above them. 

“I won’t let you drown,” Kirk said again. “I’m a good swimmer.” 

Slowly, so slowly that Kirk was certain that Spock was still considering the logic of submerging his desert-bred self into a body of water, Spock lifted the strap of his tricorder over his head and set it carefully aside. He tucked it against the wall of the shuttle and patted it once, like he wanted to be sure it wouldn’t fall off and float away, taking all his readings with it. Then Spock shuffled himself further towards the edge of the inflatable, peering down at the water. Kirk smiled at him encouragingly, and Spock gave one short, sharp nod. Then he shoved himself off the inflatable and dropped down into the water. 

Something that Kirk had noticed about his first officer in the two years they’d been working together was that the man was graceful beyond reason. Something about his height, his posture, or his strength made his movements seem measured, as careful as his speech was, every action intentional. Sometimes, when they sparred together or Kirk was able to see Spock fighting on missions, Kirk thought he was wasted as a Starfleet officer. He should have been a dancer instead. It was distinctly humorous, then, that the same grace did not translate to Spock in water. Spock’s head broke the surface only a second after vanishing; not even enough time for Kirk to have to dive down to grab him. His hair was a mess, matted down around his eyebrows, the pointed tips of his ears breaking through the black. He spat water out and immediately swallowed more, his wildly swinging arms created waves around them. 

“How are you doing, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, staying clear of his arms. He could only imagine that his legs were doing the same beneath the surface, and didn’t care to be kicked. 

“Poorly, captain,” Spock said. Kirk laughed until he cried. 

☆ ☆ ☆

Spock learned quickly, and after a few minutes was floating next to Kirk, looking up at the sky. The composition of the atmosphere was different enough that the sky was not the blue of Earth but closer to a teal, a color Kirk found most pleasing. He could feel the occasional swish of Spock’s hands through the water as he adjusted his equilibrium. 

The moment was broken with the crackle of his comm, and with a sigh he pulled himself back to the inflatable. He grabbed the comm and flipped it open. “Kirk here.” 

“Sorry to ruin your party, captain, but new orders just arrived. Someone --- or something --- crossed the neutral zone. We’re to rendezvous with the U.S.S. Valiant in two days, and Admiral Archer wants to speak with you.”

“Alright, Scotty. Give us a minute to prepare and then we’re ready for beam-up.” 

“Apologies, captain,” Scotty said, and then Kirk heard the disguised laughter in his voice. “But Archer wants you right this moment.” 

“Tell the admiral---” Kirk started, 

“No can do, captain,” Scotty said, and Spock sat upright as a peal of Uhura’s laughter came through the comm as well. “Locked onto your signal, beaming you up now.” 

“Scotty, I swear to---” 

Kirk and Spock materialized, dripping wet, in just undershirts and boxers, onto the transportation pad in front of a laughing Scotty and Chekov. Kirk was standing, as he’d had the good fortune to be upright when the beam started; Spock, who had been mostly horizontal in the water, was laying flat on his back. Kirk offered him a hand, which Spock roundly ignored in favor of climbing to his bare feet while his clothing squelched around him. He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back; the dignified posture did nothing for his hair, which dripped water steadily onto his forehead and down his nose. 

“Truly, my apologies, captain,” Scotty said, wheezing. “But Archer said immediately, and we’ve already got the shuttle in a tractor beam.” 

“Please ensure the safekeeping of my tricorder, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, in funereal tones. 

“Yes, Mr. Spock,” Scotty said. “Shame to lose any of the work you did.” 

“Indeed,” Spock said. He inclined his head to Kirk. “Excuse me, captain.” He walked away, and every step left a watery footprint behind until the door to the transporter room slid shut behind him. Only when Spock was gone did Kirk allow his own laughter to bubble out. 

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall when an ensign dares to do a double-take at him, gentlemen,” Kirk said. “Now let’s go see who’s starting trouble.” 

#spirk #spock #tos #kirk #spirktober #spirktober2023 #star trek fan fic #spirk fic #fic #my writing #kirk/spock #k/s

[saintqueer]

About the rad louies and stuff. I am a larrie, I love H&L but I wasn't expecting this level of stunting from Harry at this point and it makes me sad. This is kind of a cry for help because the last think I want is to think bad about Harry, but sometines I'm genuinely concerned... would he give up all of his creative ambitions just to be with him? I hate the ladies man he is trying to sell AGAIN, and many harries, larries, directioners don't like it either, so Harry WHY? :( Please don't be mad

hey babyyy,

i'm not mad! i don't blame you for being sad and confused. i'm not a discourse blog and i don't plan to become one (despite my last few posts, sorry!) but i want to answer this because this is such a hard time in the fandom and we could all use some comfort.

it's fair to say none of us were expecting this level of stunting after 2019 and 2020. but i think it is important to emphasize that just because he is no longer as tightly controlled as he was as a teenager, does not mean he likes stunting. this stunt was not his idea. he was not sitting in a board room going "hey guys what if i make out with olivia on a yacht, that'd be so fun!" he is a closeted gay man who has to do some ridiculous stuff to maintain his closet and to be successful in the music industry and now hollywood.

now, you say you "hate the ladies man he is trying to sell again." i want to be very clear here, he, himself, is not and never has tried to sell this. this image was pushed upon him incessantly at the tender age of 16 (when he was a LITERAL child) and he was buried deep in that image by 1d's team and the tabloid media for eight years straight. while in 1d he pushed back on this image as much as he possibly could. he hates this image and he had no choice in it. just listen to Don't Let Me Go, listen to Something Great, listen to Two Ghosts, and if you need further reassurance of something recent: listen to Falling!!!!! watch the Falling music video! what do you think he is talking about when he says "what if i'm someone i don't want around?" the image of "the drink in my wandering hands." i see Harry far more in his music than i do in his pap pictures or than i do in HSHQ. i cannot picture someone writing those songs who is not incredibly self-aware, good intentioned, and deeply deeply loving.

yes, we hate this stunt. yes, it is bringing back some of the narrative that haunted us during 1d of the womanizer. yes, we are all slightly confused as to why he agreed to it after what looked like a serious image rebranding in 2019. we do NOT have the answers. i simply don't know, anon. BUT i am not going to start questioning who Harry is and how he wishes to be seen. and, honestly, that takes some faith right now. especially after yachtgate 2.0. but i am happy to say it is not blind faith because Harry is still Harry. i am going to pull out the big guns and attach fimq's video "The Womanizer." perspective is important and it hasn't been a very long time in the grand scheme of things since fimq made this video. re-watch this or watch it for the first time and tell me who the real Harry is:

i think it's easier to vilify harry for rads because 1) his uber success and 2) he distanced himself very purposefully once the band went on hiatus. i highly suspect harry did so for his mental health and likely after working through some serious trauma in therapy. it's easier to think someone's a villain when you rely on tabloid fodder. i don't believe tabloid fodder about louis, so why would i about harry? just because i have less access to him, doesn't mean he's now a different person from the one i've grown to know.

harry's success means all the stunts are in your face but louis still has a whole ass beard and child. and he talked about that child and beard during promo in 2020! i don't think he is any less brave or good because of that. so it'd be cruel to say so of harry. closeting is never the fault of the closeted person. no matter how famous and successful.

and, finally, your question of would he still give up all his creative ambitions just to be with louis referencing what i said in my post which harkened to IICF. well, i think that question is moot. i think they likely determined a long time ago, 2015 or 2016, that both of them did not want the other to give up their ambitions for the other. and gladly so because that would not make for a very healthy or happy relationship. they decided they could stick together and still support each other's dreams; that they could survive the closeting if they had each other. it's a measure of love to say you would give up everything if they asked you too. but assuming louis loved/loves harry just as much, do you think he would even entertain the idea of allowing harry to give up on his dreams of singing, writing music, acting, being a gender-fucking fashion icon? nahhhh!!! would you let your partner do that? so to answer your question... i think harry still loves louis just as much as he did when he wrote IICF, probably even more now. do i think his ambition is a hindrance to his love for louis? no, not at all. i think louis is the biggest harrie there is, just like i think harry is the biggest louie.

okay, i think i've gone on long enough. i hope i've brought you some comfort in some way, anon. and i apologize to anyone who has to scroll past this fucking novel. but i think i needed this chat just as much as anon did. harry is a good and beautiful princess even when he is harder to access!

if you're not already all discoursed out, anon, i will leave you with two posts that i felt were helpful to my thinking recently. this post about bravery and being generous to closeted individuals. and this post about closeting and coming out. also, i hope you did watch that fimq video, it's an important reminder for all of us right now!

this is officially the end of my apparent anti-rad manifesto.

#my anti-rad manifesto #discourse #sorry this is so long dudes #i swear i am NOT becoming a discourse blog #assassinate me if i do #hope i helped anon #sending you love and don't forget harry loves you a lot #fandom dynamics #fimq #anon #ask

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. nine.

eight < current > ten

Dec. 24, 2017

You make yourself comfortable on the rooftop, debating if you should go ahead and text your brother. He would be almost as disappointed as you were; Satoru had taken to calling himself the captain of your ship with Yuta and Toge, even coming up with a nickname that incorporated shortened versions of all three names. You sigh, deciding it’s probably best to not text him. He’s likely already worried about leaving you in charge, no need to add a worry about something that isn’t deadly.

A sudden yell disrupts your thoughts and you jump into position, nocking an arrow and aiming towards the scream. You hitch your breath at the sight: Geto is striding into your school alone, leaving a trail of headless assistants behind him. One of the bodies is familiar and you recognize her as the assistant that gave you chocolate with a bright smile after a mission with unfortunate timing left you covered in curse blood and your own. She didn't flinch or offer pity - just a single chocolate kiss. Now she is covered in gore and blood, her previously pristine white shirt coated with her own brain matter.

You feel your resolve hardens. Geto is a curse-user, a human at his core, but he also is a monster. The arrow flies an accurate course but the man dodges, leaving it to embed itself into the wall instead of his torso. He turns to your rooftop, calling out, “Ah, (y/n)! And here I thought your brother would lock you in a tower.” Geto unleashes a grade-one curse that looks similar to a wolf and sends it after you. He is infuriatingly unbothered by your presence and continues his steady gait into the school grounds.

You start running across the rooftops, jumping over gaps and dodging the curse’s attempts to bite you. The rooftop tiles bite into your hands and knees. It faintly registers that a nail broke when you almost missed a jump, narrowly avoiding falling to the ground.

Satoru didn’t say how long to keep this secret, but you assume now is a good time to give Maki and Yuta a heads-up. You spot Maki stepping away from a classroom, so you run there, drawing the curse after you. On the roof next to where she stands, you plant your feet and turn, suddenly drawing your katana and slicing at the wolf. It draws back, avoiding your attack before lunging suddenly. Its claws sink into your leg. You cry out in pain, falling to your knees. When the curse lunges again, this time aiming for your throat, you fall on your back and thrust your blade into its stomach. You force the blade down its body with a grunt, disemboweling the creature. The teeth around your throat loosen, but the dead weight of the curse dropping on you prevents you from getting up immediately. Guts slide out and onto you and you suppress a gag. You feel a lot like Carrie on prom night.

When you finally stagger to your feet, you see Maki has engaged Geto in a fight that she’s obviously losing. You cry her name and rush to her side. She doesn’t get a chance to acknowledge you as Geto, in one fluid moment, breaks her weapon and sends her flying. She falls to the ground as a ragdoll, bleeding heavily from her side and head. You watch her body land, horrified, before you’re snapped back into the fight rudely.

Geto is now the closest to you he’s been since you were a child, frightened and unable to communicate with the people around you. He feels some long-forgotten sense of pity as he slides the blade of his knife further into your stomach. “W-wh-?” You look at the handle sticking out of your body curiously, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. The pain hasn’t begun to register but your body understands that you are unable to fight. You faint, missing the entrance of Panda and Toge by a few precious seconds.

When Yuta comes out from the classroom, he isn’t sure what he’s expecting to find. He felt a few earthquakes and thought it best to find you and Maki to wait out any aftershocks together. Yuta was sure it was to be a little awkward after his rejection, but also wanted to be sure you were okay. He didn’t expect to find you covered in blood, the same cute gym clothing you were wearing that morning when he rejected you ruined. A quick glance around and he sees the rest of his classmates, his friends, in similar form. Inumaki is clinging to consciousness.

Geto, the one who grabbed Yuta months earlier, stands surrounded by the bodies, hardly winded. “I truly wanted you to live, Okkotsu, but this is for the future of jujutsu.” Yuta wonders how he can fight this man. How can he protect his friends, the only ones to give him a chance since Rika, when Geto already destroyed the strongest people he knew. He was so, so weak compared to each of them.

Inumaki desperately calls a slurred version of his name and says, “Run away.” The fact that the command does nothing, that Yuta feels nothing, breaks him from his spiral. He summons Rika in a rage.

“I am going to kill you!” He declares. Yuta doesn’t think he has ever felt such anger and despair, the feeling of watching Rika die now multiplied by four.

Geto simply says, “You are going to die.”

-

A sudden pull on your stomach wakes you harshly. “Shit!” Your eyes snap open, to see a sheepish Panda holding the knife that was previously in your stomach. You automatically go to apply pressure on the wound but your hands find Maki’s already there, dressing the wound. “What happened?”

“The fight’s over, but we need to find Yuta,” Maki explains. “He must have healed all of us, but you still had the blade in you. It needed to be removed before you get up. All of us are going to be fine, (y/n), you can rest now.” She helps you to your feet and you cringe looking at your ruined outfit. Maki catches your pout and smiles, glad some things never change.

Toge comes to your side to take Maki’s place as your crutch. You hug him tightly, unable to express in words how relieved you are. He hugs back, equally overwhelmed after seeing what seemed like your corpse. Toge helps you limp along as you all start tracking Yuta’s residuals. Panda clears his throat and asks, “When did this happen?”

“Only a few days ago. Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” you explain with an eye-roll.

“No, I totally did. Just curious who won the bet.”

“If we didn’t just fight for our lives, I would kill you.” You four continue to try to have a light conversation until you come upon Yuta’s unconscious body. Toge helps you sit on the ground and you move his head onto your lap, muttering about checking for a concussion. All of you needed medical attention but you were desperate to help any way you could now.

Yuta begins to blink his eyes open and sits up urgently. “Your wounds… Panda! Your arm!” He seems to be working himself into a frenzy. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder as Panda explains that everyone will be okay. Yuta urgently looks over you, trying to determine how much blood was yours, before he seems satisfied.

“Thank you for saving us,” You whisper. His eyes fill with tears and you wonder how scared he must have been. You maintain eye contact, hoping to communicate how much you admire him, before Rika’s jumbled voice makes the both of you jump. Yuta stands, leaving the circle your class formed around him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Rika,” he says, approaching her.

“What’s wrong?” Maki asks, a little fearful at how resigned Yuta looks.

Yuta hums a little before answering, “In exchange for her power, I promised to go with her.”

“What?” You screech and the suddenness of the yell pains your wound. Your classmates join a chorus of disagreement. Panda and Inumaki both grab fistfuls of his shirt to prevent him from walking any closer to Rika. Instead of her usual retaliation for someone restraining Yuta, her form just falls away to reveal a young girl. Four of you are confused but Yuta just mumbles, “Rika?”

A clapping distracts from the drama. You turn as best you can with a hole in your stomach to see your brother without any eye wear approaching your group. “Congrats. You broke the curse,” he continues to clap and stands next to you.

“Who’re you?” Yuta and Maki ask, causing you to snort before you groan at the pain.

Your brother pouts before replying, “Everyone’s favorite good-looking Gojo-sensei. Do you not see the sibling resemblance?” He gestures between your face and his, before carefully putting you on his back. He doesn’t even flinch at the grime covering you transferring onto him as well, relieved to see you awake and alert. You rest your chin on his shoulder and listen to him explain.

“I thought Yuta was interesting, so I looked into his lineage. Apparently, you’re a descendant of Michizane Sugawara. So, super-distant, but we’re relatives!” You groan and hide your face in Satoru’s neck; the teasing to come will be unbearable.

Your classmates look dumbfounded at the information while Yuta just goes, “Who?”

“One of Japan’s big three vengeful spirits.”

“A big-shot sorcerer.”

“Tuna.”

“The annoying side of the family,” you add.

Your brother takes back control of the conversation. “Yuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you, you cursed her. When the curser severs the bond tying servant to master and the cursed doesn’t desire punishment, the curse is broken. Though it seems you figured that out by yourself.” He gestures at the little girl and Yuta.

“Oh my god,” Yuta collapses in tears. “It’s all my fault…. Hurting so many people, Geto coming after me, it’s all my - all my -” He begins to hyperventilate. Inumaki takes a step to comfort him, but before he can, Rika approaches and hugs his trembling form.

“Thank you, Yuta. For giving me time and letting me be by your side. I’ve been happier these past six years than I ever was alive. Good-bye, be well. And don’t come over too soon, ‘kay?” She gives a bright smile, toothy and pure as she dissolves into bright ashes. Yuta stares at where she stood, long after all the ashes disappeared and everyone else walked away.

“See you,” He says to himself, before getting up to follow his friends to Doctor Ieiri.

#felicitate #cass.writes #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #inumaki x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader x yuta #female!reader #jjk spoilers #jjk volume 0 spoilers #please dont take knives out #they help keep blood in normally after getting stabbed

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (7)

Chapter Seven- Gone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: In your pursuit of Karli and her group, unexpected revelations come to light. Lines are now crossed and that there is no turning back.

Warnings: Violence. Angst. A bit of language. Maybe a tear-inducing moment?

Word count: 5k

Notes: In celebration of the last ep, today is a double release! 🥳 We are already at the 7th chapter of this series. It also has covered one of the most climactic episodes of the TFATWS series and wow, I can't believe we are here! 😱

I have yet to see the last episode but I have plans to do it tonight. I thought I could put it off until I finish writing for ep 5 but I couldn't wait. This would help me to plan the direction I want to come for the upcoming chapters. 😌 Hope y’all will stick to this series despite the show has ended. 😅

Please let me know what you think of the series so far! 🥰🙏🏼

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join with a message or comment in the chapters!

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six |

Next: Chapter Eight

-------------------------//---------------------------

With Zemo’s inside information, all of you were heading to Donya’s ceremony in hopes to find Karli. You weren’t sure what to do knowing that you had secured a possible chance with Dovich to talk to Karli.

Grabbing your blazer, you made the move to join your group when you were greeted by the sight of John and Lemar walking towards you all.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you to pull this shit.” John thought it fit to lecture your group. You were walking beside Sam when you heard Bucky sarcastically questioning John on how he managed to locate your group.

All of your annoyance grew as John decided he doesn’t want to miss out on the action given his new status and hence, responsibility as- urgh you don’t even want to say call him that title in your head.

“Come on, man. You don’t think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing too much attention?” Lemar responded in kind.

John in all his fear of missing out started to question why you all had broken Zemo out of prison. Bucky patronizingly mentioned that Zemo broke himself out technically but John grew more irritated at not being taken seriously.

John’s higher than thou self was drawing attention with his loud talk and Sam had to cut him off. Zemo explained that he knew of Karli’s location and indicated continuing on his tracks before being stopped by John.

Sam went on ahead to explain that Karli would most likely be at Donya’s memorial and interception would take place there. Lemar noted the risks of casualties give n that civilians would be present.

John seeming pleased with the information started talking of a plan to take Karli in by surprise. This plan of ambush didn’t sit well with Sam and he proposed to talk to her alone. John refused, saying he didn’t want the possibility of losing Karli again.

Sam countered back that it was the best timing to reason with her, as she was now feeling vulnerable with someone dear to her loss. John vehemently rebuffed Sam’s proposal and claimed that reasoning with Karli was not an option, given that she had bombed a building with people in it.

Lemar, who you observed to be more level-headed than John ever would be chimed in that Sam could be attacked without any backup.

“And if I go in hot and the ops go wrong, more people will die,” Sam stated firmly.

“Sam is right.” Everyone turned to you and you continued to speak. “Look-” You shook in disbelief as you were about to break the promise you had with Dovich but you knew the situation called for it.

“I met with one of Karli’s guys.” All of the men were stunned at your revelation and you could see the betrayal on Bucky’s face more so than the rest.

“When was this?” He spoke up first as he looked on at you in disappointment.

“When we were out fishing for information on Donya, I miraculously spotted him on the streets and followed him. We talked.”

“And you didn’t bring him in?!” John accused as if you had done something terribly wrong. Bucky turned to give John the stink eye before going back to you.

“Why would you keep this from us at all?” Bucky couldn’t believe that you would have kept this information from him of all of the people.

“I promised him, he was going to talk to Karli for me after the memorial. He was our best chance to persuade Karli rather than go in by ourselves. We might not even have a shot.” You defended your actions.

“And how was he so agreeable to your request?” Bucky asked disdainfully. You didn’t like his judgmental stare at you, like as if he couldn’t believe you managed this feat.

“I saved him before back when we all fought the Flag Smashers on the truck. I convinced him with sincerity, happy?” You snapped back at the brooding super-soldier. Sam witnessing the once again tense exchange between the two of you intervened and spoke.

“That’s good, Y/N. Well done.”

“He said that he would only have me speak to Karli but I think you should do it, Sam. I can do talk to him again once he contacts me. You are the best one of us to do it.” You knew of Sam’s experiencing with counselling soldiers dealing with trauma and knew that he would do a better job to talk to Karli.

Sam was encouraged at your support for him and pulled you into a side hug which you returned gladly to him too. Bucky grew irritated at how your relationship with him was continuing to sour and began to feel disheartened. John being the thorn in your side still did not relent in his opinion.

“Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super-soldier alone?” John continued to harp on the matter.

“He dealt with worse and he’s not my partner.” Bucky curtly answered.

“I trust Sam, he’s more capable than you think.” You chimed in. Bucky gave you a brief warm look as the two of you had put your differences aside for a moment to agree on Sam’s competency.

When Lemar asked John to give this plan a chance, you could see the latter wavering on his stance. It seemed his soft spot for his partner and friend worked. The men still thought it was better to go for the memorial straight as they were not sure if Dovich could hold up his end of the promise.

You showed hesitation but decided to give in, knowing that you were outnumbered. Zemo led the group to approach a little girl and you could see him giving some money to the girl in exchange for the revelation of Donya’s memorial.

You all were soon directed to an old building and the little girl pointed up to a stairway before going off. Sam gave you a nod before making his way first.

John took it upon himself to cuff Zemo before stopping Sam, informing him that he only had ten minutes with Karli. You had it with his bossy attitude and wanted to throw a punch in his face.

As the time passed in the room, it was silent. Everyone took a spot to wait but John was pacing up and down. Bucky positioned himself near the door while you took a spot opposite Lemar.

Your eyes glanced nervously to Bucky, suddenly feeling all weird and awkward. You never had this feeling in a long time. The only time you felt his way was when you had just started living with him as you two were on the run and in hiding.

The sudden comfort and ease you had with him seemed to vanish with your first fight as you would call it.

“Hey, uh-now it’s not really the time…” Your attention to Lemar who was now speaking at you directly. Giving a surprising look at his unexpected conversation starter, you listened intently.

“I really am a fan of yours.” Your mouth opened slightly in surprise at his revelation. Tilting your head to the side, you gave him a quizzical look.

“Just thought your powers are really cool. I was amazed to see them in action back in Germany.” You weren’t sure how to react but nodded shyly and thanked him. Bucky couldn’t believe what transgressed in front of him.

Peering over to see you with a bashful expression, he couldn’t help to grow irritated out of jealousy.

“Were you born with them?” Lemar inquired politely and you nodded in response. Lemar had another look of wonder before continuing to ask.

“That’s extraordinary.” You shrugged your shoulders as you didn’t know what to respond. Sure, you know your powers were to be envied but you didn’t think of yourself holier.

“It’s nothing to be envied. I find more respect for people who are able to do extraordinary things without such advantages.“ Your humility gained a deepened sense of admiration from Lemar. “Thank you for your service.” Throwing a smile in his way, yours grew wider as Lemar returned one your way.

Eyes looking over to John, you gave a slight brief nod before looking away. You also had to acknowledge his contributions but you didn’t like him as much so that was the best you could do.

Minutes passed again before John grew more impatient by the second.

“No no no, this is a bad idea.” He started whispering to himself as he shook his head fervently.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky noted with a huff.

“Don’t patronize me.” You could see John getting fed up with Bucky. Walking towards the other end of the room from where Bucky was, John stood to look at the clock and you saw the determination in his eyes. “That’s it. I am going in.”

“Woah, back down mister. You’re being too rash.” Moving to the side to block his path, you held up a hand to stop him from moving.

“And you’re being too relaxed.” He seethed impatiently at your interception. As his hands laid on your shoulders to move you physically, Bucky immediately went to snatch his hand away.

You felt yourself being shifted backwards and towards Bucky before he took a step in front of you. Both men puffed up their chests in dominance and looked at each other with distaste.

“This is all really easy for you two, isn’t it?” John’s eyes moved to yours before landing back at Bucky. “All those serum and powers running through your veins…”

“Your partner needs backup in there. Are you really going to have Sam’s blood on your hands?” John enunciated each word of his last sentence strongly to pressure you.

In a matter of seconds, John looked at the opening Bucky gave when he came to protect you and went for it. He quickly made his way to where Sam and Karli were.

You saw the look of distraught and betrayal on Karli’s face before she lunged for John and knocked him and Sam over. She immediately made a run for it with Bucky hot on her trail. Helping Sam up, you two made your way to back Bucky up.

The big building was an unfamiliar maze and the three of you tried to find Karli’s location. Hearing the sounds of crashing and gunshots, you all tried your best to follow the sounds to the exact location.

When you arrived at the door, you opened it to see Zemo knocked out cold on the floor. John was already at the scene and Lemar just joined a few moments later. The little pieces of glass with unknown blue residues confirmed your suspicions on what they were.

Oh god.

-------------------------//---------------------------

“I deal with the power broker when the time comes,” Karli reassured the two men were worried about fighting two wars with both the power broker and Sam’s group.

“And I know a way we can deal with Sam without getting involved in a direct fight.” Karli intended. Nico and Dovich exchanged a brief look before Dovich asked how they were able to do so.

“We separate them. And then we kill Captain America.” Karli’s intentions didn’t sit well with Nico but he maintained a neutral expression. Dovich sat on the thought for a moment and remembered about you

“Hey look, Sam’s group is an odd mix but I don’t think they mean any harm. Except for Zemo, of course.”

With furrowed brows, Karli indicated for Dovich to explain himself. Dovich decided to speak about the earlier encounter he had with the Avenger.

“I talked with Y/N prior and she promised that she didn’t want any bloodshed.” Karli scoffed at her friend’s words and shook her head in disbelief. How was Dovich so trustful of you?

“That’s what Sam said too. But guess how it turned out.” She retorted with her own example to show how your group couldn’t be trusted.

“She’s not like that. I believe her, she can be trusted.” Dovich insisted. Karli and Nico were curious as to why was their friend was pushing for you.

“What’s gotten into you, Dovich? Why are you defending her?”

“Karli, she saved my life back in Germany. Her actions then spoke louder given she only met us for the first time.”

“She’s still loyal to her group. She’s loyal to the Avengers.” Karli continued to put down Dovich’s vouch for you. He then decided to change his tactics.

“I think she can be convinced to join our group. Imagine if she stood on our side, we would be unstoppable.” Karli looked up in interest as she considered the possibility of you fighting for their cause. Indeed, with your powers, the Flag Smashers would become a force to be reckoned with.

“That’s impossible.” Karli tried to reason with the fact that you were still with the enemy and you wouldn’t be turned so easily. She knew of your history and how you were loyal to a fault for Bucky Barnes. Would you so easily leave your friends to join them?

“She empathises with our cause. She said so herself.” Dovich added in finality, hoping that Karli could be convinced.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.”

-------------------------//---------------------------

Your head was spinning from earlier events and you came back to the common room once you had a quick shut-eye upstairs. You could hear Bucky and Sam bantering about the same old topic on Steve’s shield.

You also heard Bucky’s comments about Walker and shook your head in disbelief at how inherently frustrating the man was. What could have been a successful peace talk with Karli was ruined by his brashness to display his authority.

The door burst open behind you and you looked over to see John coming in with Lemar, demanding for all of you to turn Zemo in. Sam took charge of the situation and put John in his place, stating he had been nothing but a thwart in your plans.

John being the arrogant pick he was tried to size up Sam, mocking him by saying he could put down the shield to make it fair for the both of them. You were fuming with the blatant disrespect that John was showing.

Before you could take another step, a familiar spear swooped in and lodged itself in the pillar near John. The familiar sounds of metal clanging let you know who was arriving and you saw familiar Dora Milajae members walking into the room.

Understanding the Wakandan words that were being spoken, you knew the Dora Milajae were here for Zemo.

John being the arrogant prick that he was, was proud to introduce himself as Captain America. An awkward silence ensued when they didn’t return a response. Sam tried to help John out by advising him that he should be careful to step on the Dora Milajae’s toes.

Ignoring Sam’s words, John went on to tell the Dora Milajae that they had no jurisdictions it had little effect when Ayo refuted his claims. Seeing John scoff before taking a step towards Ayo to place his hand on her shoulder, you immediately winced once Ayo swiftly knocked John down in three moves.

The scene in front of you unfolded quickly as John were quick to fight against the Dora Milajae and Lemar even stepped in to help his partner out. Seeing how the two men were hopelessly struggling with the warriors caused you to cringe in embarrassment.

“We should do something,” Sam said as he had the same sentiments as you.

“Looking strong, John.” Bucky commentated sarcastically with his arms crossed as if he was fine with how things were.

“Bucky….” Sam said in a nagging tone, as if Bucky was a child who did not want to do his chores. You looked over to give him a nod to say that Bucky should indeed step in before John really gets pummelled.

“Ayo, let’s talk about this”. Bucky stepped forward to intervene. Looking to the side, you saw one of the Dora aiming to give Lemar a blow before Sam stepped in. She managed to knock Sam down onto the couch and you knew it was your chance to step up.

You refused to use your powers with the Doras so you held your hands up to negotiate with them.

“Spare him, please.” You pleaded on Lemar’s behalf. The Dora withheld her weapon as she looked over you, recognising you from your Wakandan days. She left you

A sound of metal dropping caught your attention as you saw Bucky’s arm falling limply on the ground. His astonished expression accompanied by pain at Ayo’s disarm of his arm also brought you a shock.

In the midst of the chaos, you found that Zemo had disappeared. Ayo went to open the bathroom door and checked the room. She stated that Zemo was gone.

Ayo stated that their business was finished here and they would take their leave first. You helped Lemar up before walking over to Bucky who picked up his vibranium arm in disbelief.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked and Bucky shook his head in response. You bit your lips as you weren’t sure what to say.

In an attempt to comfort him, you reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze. Bucky was glad that your previous enmity towards him seemed to be gone and your interactions seemed to be back to normal.

“They were not even super soldiers.” Hearing John’s dismay at his utter defeat, you almost felt bad for him. Sam gave him a once over as John stood up, acting he was fine before leaving with Lemar.

The three of you left couldn’t believe Zemo made his grand escape even with all of you in the room.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The three of you were making your way out in search of Zemo until Sam received a call from his sister. Apparently, Karli called Sarah as a strong message to Sam. Karli threatened to involve Sam’s nephews if Sam didn’t do as she said.

Your head shook in disbelief, you believed Karli to be different. To hear that she was pulling such a tactic changed your initial opinion of her. Sam received a message to meet her alone but you and Bucky wouldn’t let him go in alone.

Once the three of you suited up, you all made your way to the location. Entering the open plaza in the building, Sam called for Karli and you saw her head popped into view. You all made your way to her level.

You let Sam approached her while Bucky and you put yourselves at the side. Sam called her out for trying to involve his family but Karli replied that she would never harm them. Her eyes moved to where you and Bucky stood, noting aloud that Sam didn’t come alone as intended.

Karli reiterated that she never wanted to hurt Sam and that he was just a tool in the regimes she vowed to destroy. Killing Sam would be meaningless to her.

“I was gonna ask you to join me. And maybe Y/N back there. Dovich has spoken highly of you.” Seeing your eyes widened in surprise at the offer, Karli smirked before continuing.

“You could do better than them. You would be welcomed and appreciated within our circle. I know of your loss, your grief with the rest of your original team gone. You can find purpose with us.” You stepped forward as if her words were drawing you in.

Sam and Bucky were at a sudden loss at your movement. They didn’t think you would even process Karli’s proposal and were curious to know what you were about to do.

“Karli, I resonate with your cause.” Your words took your friends by surprise. Were you really going to switch sides?

“But I don’t approve of what you did back at the depot. I thought better of you.” You expressed your stance on the matter. Karli scoffed before giving her reply. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your approval.”

“Shedding blood is never an option for me.” You stood your ground firmly.

“Fine, I admit my mistake. If you join us, I will make sure there would not be lives cost.” Karli tried to coat her words in favour of you.

She knew that she would do whatever was necessary for her to achieve her goals and even if it were to pretend to pander to your moral values, she was willing to give it a try if it meant she could have you switch sides.

Seeing your conflicted dilemma, Karli egged on. “Is it because of him?” She nodded back to Bucky. You looked over your shoulder to see him equally You looked at her with a perplexed look before she smirked once more.

“I read up about you. You came into his defence when he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. You revealed your powers publicly and that got you thrown into the raft. Ever since he has been pardoned, you had been with him all this time.” You didn’t know where Karli was going with this but her next sentence finally made you understood.

“This only means one thing. You like him, don’t you? He’s the one holding you back.”

“No! What are you talking about?” You spoke through gritted teeth at how she chose to play this out. How could she expose you like this? Your ears burned with embarrassment at the revelation that stunned both Sam and Bucky.

What was Karli implying exactly? Bucky looked over to see you visibly shaking in anger and he was taken aback by how Karli’s words affected you.

“Even now, I see the way you are looking at him. At how angry you are now? You mad that your secret crush is out in the open?” You looked up to see Karli’s smug face and you controlled your energy from bursting through your hands.

“Stop your bullshit. Don’t act like you know me!”

“Please, I am letting you know that he is not worth it. You would do so much better for yourself if you join our cause.” Karli retorted and you hated how she acted like she knew what was best for you when she barely knew her.

Sam always had an inkling that there could be more from your relationship with Bucky but he kept silent on the matter out of respect. He knew that it was best to leave you figuring things out on your own.

He recalled how he had caught you and Bucky in an intimate moment back in the club at Madripoor and figured you two were more than it seemed on a friendship level.

Seeing Karli use such an approach to almost taunting you in the context of persuasion didn’t sit well with him. His inner big brother wanted to come out to defend you.

Meanwhile, Bucky was appalled to learn of everything from your exchange with Karli. Was it possible that you had liked him all this while?

When he talked to you about Madripoor earlier, he remembered your pained expression when he tried to void what happened between the two of you.

Was it because you were hurt by his denial? He must have sounded like the world’s biggest jerk. If you really liked him, he would imagine you being heartbroken from what he had said.

“He is worth everything.” Your very statement made Bucky looked back up in shock. No way would he ever thought you would like him in that way. He thought you were just being the kind-hearted and empathetic person that you always are to follow a guy like him.

Quick flashbacks came to him as he realized that you had always been by his side from breaking free of HYDRA to being on the run, following the Avengers civil war, his time in Wakanda, the fight with Thanos, Steve's leaving, his pardon after the Blip and up to now.

It dawned upon Bucky that he had taken you for granted. If you were gone right now, he could only imagine that he would possibly go the deep end.

“He is the most important person in my life and you don’t get to talk about him like that when you don’t even know him.” You asserted with renewed confidence. You figured while this situation wasn't ideal, it was the moment you had to tell your truth.

Looking back, you met Bucky with a small smile.

Bucky’s heart soared at what you had just said. To be regarded as your most important person was the thing that he never knew he needed.

You knew that your words inadvertently had answered the pressing question on Bucky’s mind. Karli knew she had failed to get to you after the answer and decided to lose her shot with you.

You hear Sam picking up something on his comms, stating that it was Walker. Karli was alerted and decided to make a move first. Bucky immediately jumped off as soon as he saw Karli doing the same.

You lifted yourself off and saw Sam knocking Karli over before he turned to Bucky, telling him that he would send him the location. You didn’t have time to say anything to Bucky, he only gave you a look of understanding before you both knew that there were more pressing matters at hand.

Sam nodded to you before you did the same and you followed him as he took off.

-------------------------//---------------------------

You sent a blast towards the glass ceiling before you and Sam landed in the building. A crash was heard next when you recognised Dovich to be the one that was crashing. You looked to see John walking into view and your mind scrambled to analyse what was going on.

Dovich went ahead to use a metal pipe against John, but John pushed back and even bent the pipe into half like a rubber hose.

“Oh shit,” Dovich uttered before John sent him flying to where you stood. As Dovich looked up at you, you eyed him to go and heard Sam speak up.

“What did you do?” John didn’t answer the question and informed that the Flag Smashers had Lemar. Growing a soft spot despite your brief interaction, your heart dropped when you realised that Lemar was in danger.

John went ahead first before Sam followed behind. You placed your hand on Sam’s arm to pause for a moment, looking at Sam anxiously.

“Sam, I think he took one of the serums.” He nodded grimly at your words, indicating that he shared the thought too.

The two of you followed John where you were all ambushed by a member of the Flag Smashers. All of you tried to fend yourselves and you soon see Bucky joining the scene.

You were met face to face with Dovich. You gave him a look that said you were reluctant but had no choice to fight him.

He took you on and you tried your best to avoid his quick moves. You shot multiple non-fatal blasts at him to knock him over. He was doing his best to keep up with the speed at which you were throwing your blasts.

In the next split second, you sent two direct blasts to his chest that knocked the wind out of his chest. The following moment, you heard a loud collision and you looked to see Lemar crashed against a stone pillar.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you realised what had just happened. Lemar’s head fell slightly as you saw him lost consciousness. John immediately walked over to his partner and repeatedly tap him to wake him up.

You swallowed heavily as seconds passed and Lemar had no reaction. John called Lemar’s name over and over to no avail. You see John looking back his shoulder and directing his line of sight on you.

“Do something!” He cried out to you. You were at a loss for words as you didn’t know what he wanted you to do. You looked over to see Sam and Bucky equally stunned at what had occurred.

“I read your file. You brought someone back to life before!” You knew what John was referring to but you didn’t know if it could even work.

“I can’t, my powers don’t work like that-” Your powers came from your life force so you were able to transfer it to someone to regain theirs. However, you only did it once and it was because someone was dying of hypothermia. It was a different situation from Lemar’s.

“Please! I’m begging you! He’s everything to me!” John’s desperate plea touched you, knowing that he had said similar words to what you had said before about Bucky. You understood his plight and made quick steps to where he was.

Everyone looked upon the scene as you crouched down to your knees. You gave John a wary look before you brought your hands to Lemar who was lying in John’s arms.

Summoning your energy into your palms, you placed them on Lemar’s chest as if you were using a defibrillator. You pumped several sets of energy into Lemar while John patted him for a reaction.

When Lemar still showed no signs of life, the look of defeat on John’s face broke your heart. Tears start welling in your eyes as you looked at Lemar’s lifeless body. You saw Karli and her group starting to make a run for it.

Sam and Bucky made a chase for her immediately. John handed Lemar over to you before he sprinted for the window in front of you.

You could see the look of vengeance on his face and knew it didn’t bode well. You gently laid Lemar on the ground before waving your hand with your energy flames and placed it on where his heart was.

Rest in peace.

Your energy flames dissipated into his uniform and you stood up to follow behind John. You managed to catch him chasing after one of the Flag Smashers ahead of you. He was throwing his shield with brute force to knock the guy on his feet. You saw how the man was pleading for his life, claiming that he was not the one who killed Lemar.

John placed a foot to hold the man who was flailing his arms desperately. In a blink of an eye, he brought down the very shield that was used to protect people onto the man.

“NOOOOOOO!” You cried out in an attempt for John to stop his actions but it was too late.

Your eyes widened in unbelievable shock at what just transpired. When John lifted up the shield, you saw the blood that stained the legacy of the shield- Steve’s legacy.

You turned to see that a crowd was formed and people held out their phones to record what had happened. It didn’t sit well with you to know that in a matter of seconds, the whole world would also be watching this horrific scene too.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #beautiful pain #angstsfordays #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 4

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10. Tutoring

When Marinette entered the bakery to help Adrien complete the handfuls upon handfuls of special orders, he could tell she was on a mission. He really liked the strong set of her posture and determined glint in her eye whenever she got that way, which meant he’d have trouble ignoring that distraction and keeping on top of the schedule.

“So,” she began, turning her fiery look towards him. “I think I’ve made a decision.”

Adrien raised a brow. “What?”

“About the fashion world.”

“You have my attention.” After all, she’d been researching non-stop for over a month, now. He’d seen how much it was wearing on her. At the moment, she looked revitalized.

“I need you to be my own private tutor for a moment.”

Adrien couldn’t help but grin like a cat that got the cream. He sauntered up to her, striking his best pose. “Oh? Just what am I gonna be teaching you, milady? And is this really the place for it?”

Marinette’s expression fell flatter than a crepe. “Adrien.”

“Hint taken,” he said, straightening himself up. “What am I teaching you?”

“I want every story you have to tell,” she said. “You may not have been a designer, but you first hand witnessed your father’s fashion empire and were involved in several different sides of it. I want to know your own personal experience with everything. Good, bad, ugly, right, wrong; I want to know.”

His mouth set in a hard line. “I… I wouldn’t mind it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But fair warning: I’m biased.”

“That’s what I want to know, too,” she said. “The fashion industry is extremely competitive. And from the data I’ve seen, there’s plenty of people who go in with high hopes, only to get chewed up and spit out. What are your dark secrets? What am I actually looking forward to if I go in?”

Adrien frowned. He had plenty of stories to tell, that wasn’t the issue. What was the problem was the likelihood they’d discourage her from pursuing fashion any further. And if she did end up wanting to go into fashion, he didn’t want to crush any hope she currently held.

But looking at her now, he realized he wouldn’t be able to tell her no. She had a determination in her eyes that was both sexy and frightening. That look warned that she was on the verge of a decision, and whatever she chose would be ultimate and final.

Part of him loved that fire in her, and part of him wished he had half the gumption she did.

“Okay,” he relented. “But before I do, can you promise me that you’re not basing everything off what I say? That it will only add to all the other research you’ve done.”

She nodded resolutely. “Promise.”

He sighed. “Well,” he said, giving her a sheepish smile. “Guess the question now is where do I even begin?”

 11. Truth or Dare

Marinette had come to her decision, and no one would sway her from it.

The tales Adrien had told her were mostly along the lines of what she expected, while there were others that more strongly leaned towards “that’s pretty good,” and still others that crossed into “that’s really bad” territory.

So, after that evening, the question she had faced herself with was not “could I handle this?” but rather “do I want to do this?” and “do all the potential benefits out way all the negative?”

But really, that brought her back to “what do I even want out of life?” because her answer changed everything…

Which make her realize that maybe she wasn’t so resolute in her decision after all.

She was almost nineteen. By now, most of her classmates had plans for the future they were all pursuing. She had thought she’d had plans, but when they all crumbled beneath her feet, she found herself lost, wondering around the Land of What-Do-I-Do-Now?

“Marinette!”

With a squeak, she practically leapt five feet into the air at the sudden voice right beside her. When she realized it was Adrien, she leaned against the bakery table with a heavy sigh. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Someone was lost in thought.”

“Yeah! And the last thing you do when someone is lost in thought is purposefully surprise them by suddenly appearing right beside them. Jerk!” With a hint of a smile, she took some of the flour on the table and flicked it at him, knowing that if she did, he’d wipe that apologetic look of his face and loosen up a bit.

“Hey!” He turned away, but not quick enough. Flour dusted his perfect jawbone and perfect collar bone and perfectly fitted t-shirt. But it was the perfect smile that he wore that made the rest of the heaviness she felt on her shoulders disappear, even if only for a moment.

“Don’t do that again,” she warned, her voice not really holding any bite in it.

“No promises,” he said with a chuckle, dusting the flour off him. “That was a pretty cute squeak, princess.”

She just sighed. There was no getting him off the name by now so she’d just learned to roll with it. “I am not cute! I am fierce.”

“Yeah, like a little fluffy Papillion.”

She gasped, flicking even more flour at him. He laughed again.

“Is the bread in the oven yet, Marinette?” her father called out, bringing her back to reality.

“Almost!” she cried, quickly hurrying to score the tops of the loaves on the last pan before hurriedly sticking all the pans she’d made in the oven. “Done!”

“Thank you.” That was when her papa reappeared. “The fridge is clean now, so I’m off.”

“And I’m on,” Adrien said with a grin. “There’s only a couple special orders to handle tonight, right?”

“Yup. You’ll finish those in a flash.”

Adrien beamed. “Perfect. Got to love when my days are easy.”

Her papa chuckled. “Can’t disagree with you there. Being a baker is more fun when you don’t have too large an order burden.”

“Exactly,” Adrien agreed, already tying on his apron.

After Marinette saw her papa off, leaving just her and Adrien in the kitchen, he sidled up to her. “Let’s play a game.”

She quirked a brow at him. He looked way too mischievous at the moment. “You just got on shift, and you want to play a game?”

He was positively beaming. “Yup.”

Although she shook her head, she didn’t mind it. She enjoyed running shifts with Adrien or just hanging out with him in general. But she knew that if they started up, she was the one who’d have to keep them on track for the night. “Start in on something first. Unless you wanna be here all night.”

“Point taken.” Immediately, Adrien set to work weighing ingredients and then mixing up a dough.

“So,” he said as he worked. “Truth or dare.”

Marinette dropped the bench scraper in her hand, less out of shock and more out of annoyance, as she shot him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“You want to play truth or dare? Now?”

“Yup. Just for a couple rounds.”

Little red flags went up in Marinette’s mind as she studied the overly happy blond. “Why?”

“Because I want to. Now! Truth or dare?”

She should shut this down before they got into trouble, but she had the feeling he’d tease her for it if she did. And she was not going to give him the chance. “Which one do you want me to pick?”

Adrien turned to study her a moment. “Dare.”

“Truth, then,” she countered with a grin.

“Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air. “I was banking on that.”

This time, she almost did drop the bench scraper out of shock. “What?”

“I know you,” he twittered, grinning like the idiot he was. “I know you. You weren’t going to give me the satisfaction of picking what I wanted; you never do. So, I just played you like the cheap fiddle you are.”

Marinette tried to look offended. She really did. But it was hard when her cute, idiot coworker was doing a happy dance. That, and she rather enjoyed this banter they always had. “Excuse you, who are you calling a cheap fiddle?”

“You, princess.”

“Oh really? The kazoo is calling me a cheap fiddle.”

“Kazoo?”

“Kazoo.”

He pantomimed being stabbed through the heart, and while he tried to keep the smile off his face, she could tell he was struggling. “Ahh, the ice princess is so cold. The light is fading. Limbs. Growing. Cold.”

She failed suppressing a laugh, turning and hiding her growing grin behind her hand. He was such a dork.

Adrien seemed to pull himself together, laughing along with her as he went back to measuring more ingredients. “Okay, okay. Back to the topic at hand.”

Marinette calmed herself, but her smile refused to budge. “Okay, you were asking me truth.”

Adrien came to stand right across from her. He reached across the table, grabbing her hands and pulling them closer. Her smile was gone now, and so was Adrien’s, as their combined hands rested in the middle of the table. “Scale of one to ten, how much do you trust me?”

Her cheeks and neck and chest flushed red as she stared into his green eyes. “W… what brought that on?”

His grasp on her hands tightened. “I just want to know.”

That was a lie. Or, at least only a half truth. He had a different reason for asking that specific question. She knew it. She could tell. Eight months of working together, and she’d come to be able to read this man like a book.

When had they gotten so close?

She took a breath to clear her mind. She’d probe him later, or maybe their little game would give her the answer she was looking for in that regard. But for now, she quietly responded, “A solid 8.5.”

Adrien paused, taking in those words before slowly nodding. “8.5,” he murmured. “I’ll take it.”

With that, he pulled his hands away. Marinette felt the loss immediately, but there wasn’t anything she was willing to do to make them come back. Not yet, anyway.

And would her heart calm down already? The way it was racing made it hard to think.

“Truth or dare?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Truth,” he answered.

“How many secrets would you say you’re hiding from me right now?”

A loaded question, Marinette knew. But she just had a feeling, an inkling, that she knew the exact number. One for what he was hiding now, and one… if he had feelings for her.

It wasn’t the first time that thought had popped into her mind. She’d had her suspicions for a while now that his flirty banter wasn’t just out of good, playful fun. And maybe she was reading into it too much, but she felt like he’d been more… touchy with her lately. A fist pound here, a pat on the shoulder here, a playfully light punch to the arm in the heat of their teasing; things like that. And if not touching, then he seemed to like being close. And and and…

And was she wrong, or did when he ask her ‘truth’, he purposefully make it that intimate?

Do you like me, Adrien? Or am I jumping to a conclusion?

And to I like you in return? Or am I mistaking our friendship for something more?

Because I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to get hurt by you.

But…

It might be too late for that.

“Like…” Adrien began after a moment’s pause. “Define secret.”

“Something that you do not, in the near future, intend to tell me or would be comfortable in telling me.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “How will you know I’m being honest about the number?”

“I trust you 8.5 out of ten, right?” she softly reminded. “A number that can go up or down at any time.”

That got Adrien to wince. “Yeah,” he murmured.

There was a long pause, one Marinette wasn’t sure he was going to break.

“How far is ‘near future’?” he finally asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.”

She paused. “Then answer how many secrets are on the line here.”

“Only one.”

“Only one?”

“Something I am not comfortable telling you or don’t intend to tell you in the near future, per your words, yes. Only one.”

Her brows knit together. Only one? Which meant… either the thing he was hiding now or the feelings. It was one or the other, but not both. “So…” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Are you saying that you intend to tell me this sometime in the future? But don’t know when in the future that will be?”

His brow knit together nervously, before he played it off with a warbly smile. “I’m pretty sure I answered my truth, already, princess.”

She frowned. Technically, he did, in an odd, roundabout way that somehow left her with more questions than answers. “Fine. How about we just drop this already?”

Part of her didn’t want to drop it. Part of her wanted to be able to pull another truth out of him. She wanted… needed to know which secret he was hiding. But she wasn’t sure her heart could handle it if it wasn’t the secret she wanted it to be.

“One more round,” he quickly begged.

Marinette quirked a brow but surrendered without fuss. “Fine. Dare. What are you gonna make me do now?”

He grinned. “I was hoping for that.”

“Why?”

He stopped the mixer, then came over to her and once again leaned in close. “I dare you… to come to New York with me.”

Marinette was frozen. She blinked her eyes several times, and her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

Eventually, she found the words to say. “I’m sorry, repeat that?”

 12. Seatmates

It had been a month since Adrien had gotten the pleasure of surprising Marinette with a trip to New York.

After Marinette had asked him for his stories of the fashion world, Adrien had been so worried that she’d walked away with the determination to surrender her former dreams, and that made him feel too guilty to handle. So, breaking the unspoken vote of confidence she’d placed in him, he’d talked to her parents.

He hadn’t divulged everything, just the bare essentials necessary to get them to understand. Mr. Dupain had seemed surprised, but the information didn’t seem to have caught Mrs. Cheng off guard. It made more sense when she admitted she’d been suspecting something was up for a while, and this had confirmed it.

So Adrien had told them what he wanted to do: give Marinette’s dreams one last encouraging push by taking her to fashion week. His original plan had been for it to be Paris’ fashion week, but he’d been keeping tabs on Chloe and her whereabouts as well as taking into account that Marinette had been barred from several Parisian schools. If she wanted school to be a reality, she wouldn’t be in Paris, meaning it might be beneficial to take her outside the country. It would give her the chance her to explore and stretch her wings in a way staying inside France would not allow.

With her parents’ blessings on the idea, Adrien had started planning. And then had come the fun part of surprising her with it.

The roller-coaster of emotions she’d gone on after his dare had been a joy to watch. Disbelief to doubt to shock to excitement. She’d been so expressive that Adrien had found himself falling even harder. And when she’d agreed to let him take her to New York—which took no small amount of convincing—he’d been over the moon.

However, there was one thing about that day he couldn’t forget. Mostly because it hung of his head. Marinette had only remembered by the end of her shift that she still had one last round of truth or dare.

“Dare,” he’d answered. It was only fair.

She’d seemed relieved almost at that. And with her words, he understood why. “I dare you to let me save my dare for another time.”

After recalling the way she’d tortured him by cashing in her last favor by making him clean out the deep, dark crannies of the freezer and storage room, he had been hesitant about this one. Even if she had repaid him for that torture with the best dinner he’d eaten in months, he still couldn’t forget the devious sparkles in her eyes as she cashed in that favor. It made him worried for just what kind of dare she would make him do.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad. After all, he was taking her to New York. She wouldn’t be cruel, would she?

Quietly, he scoffed. No, this was Marinette. She could be downright devious if she wanted to and make him think he was okay with it.

A weight on his shoulder called him out of his reverie. They’d been watching a new anime he’d downloaded on his computer for the plane ride. When they started, Marinette had seemed intent on watching it, but at the moment, it seemed his seatmate was too tired to keep it up.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking his shoulder.

She took an earbud out but didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“Do you want to just watch this later and sleep now?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay.” He paused the anime, then shut his computer screen.

Marinette shifted just enough to take out her earbuds, but then she was back to leaning against his shoulder. “This okay?” she asked, her groggy voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s fine,” he assured even though his heart protested. It was a little too okay with him. “Get some sleep.”

With one last hum, Marinette fully settled against his side, and within a little while, she was out.

Adrien sighed, leaning his head against Marinette’s.

“Truth or dare?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Truth,” he answered, going back to the mixer to turn it off.

“How many secrets would you say you’re hiding from me right now?”

He let his eyes drift closed at the memory. If only he had the courage to go for it. But this was the girl he considered to be his closest friend, and he wasn’t ready to take that plunge quite yet.

I really like you.

If she didn’t feel the same, he was sure they could go back to almost normal in time, but there would always be that rift.

A small, bitter smile suddenly crossed his lips. Here he was, trying to encourage her to follow her dreams or at least press forward to take a chance, and he was too much a coward to take his own advice.

What a hypocrite.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #Fluff #Fluff and angst #Yeah I make you hurty #Just a little #I'll fix it soon #i promise

[official-weasley]

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 2/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

Warnings: dragon abuse Word Count: 2,266

“Are you ready?” Matthew was standing with me by the gates of the reserve, his arms crossed on his chest and looking like he will burst from excitement any moment now.

It’s been a week since I found out that I am going to work with a 1-year-old Hebridean Black. That, however, has been the only information Matt has given me. He has been awfully secretive about this dragon and no matter how many times I asked him about it he just told me not to worry and that I will have all my questions answered once the dragon arrives.

Today was that day and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not only because I didn’t know what to expect and the whole thing seemed to amuse my boss very much but also because this was a Hebridean Black – my favorite breed of dragon.

We don’t have a rule book here in the Sanctuary but we do have a few protocols we have to obey.

Wear your protective gear at work.

If you get injured, stop what you are doing immediately and find a healer.

No matter how vicious the dragon is, try to stay as calm as possible because they sense fear.

We don’t get promoted but are assigned to dragons based on our experience.

In the first year when we arrive here, we work with researchers to observe dragons – learn about their behavior and eating patterns.

In the second and third years, we either get assigned to Common Welsh Greens or Antipodean Opaleyes. If we are doing great with the latter, our superior might assign us to one of the fliers so we can start training to fly on a dragon.

That is a crucial practice for working with dragons later on because part of the daily routine is to take them out for a flight. The training usually lasts for 6 months and then we have to pass the flying exam – which I passed with flying colors on the first try, of course!

Then in year four we usually continue with Opaleyes. I was lucky enough to get a chance to work with two Chinese Fireballs.

In years five and six we are assigned to a new breed, the Swedish Short-Snout, and we train with the healers to learn how to heal and recognize symptoms if the dragon we work with shows any signs of sickness.

For me, that dragon was a Norwegian Ridgeback. I wasn’t experienced enough to work with the breed but due to a shortage of dragonologists, Matthew assigned the dragon to me anyway, and even though it wasn’t the easiest dragon to work with I had a pleasant enough experience with it that I now visit its habitat a few times per month to say hello.

In year eight or nine we can sign up for an exchange program. It means we go and work in one of the other dragon reserves. My wish was to work in the Swedish Reserve for one year and I was over the roof when my application was approved.

My boss wanted me to apply to the Chinese Reserve so that I could work with Fireballs since I have already dealt with them but I heard that even though the Swedish Reserve mostly works with Short-Snouts they had a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Ukrainian Ironbelly.

I know I shouldn’t have gone against my boss and try and work with dragons I wasn’t ready for but I just couldn’t help myself. I knew I would be less monitored there and nobody would tell me I can’t work with a certain dragon so I had to try.

Working with a sick Norwegian Ridgeback was harder than trying to befriend a Ukrainian Ironbelly. The latter looks like it’s going to eat you at any given moment but they are harmless even though they are huge compared to the other dragons.

Because I got a certificate of successfully taming both a Vipertooth and an Ironbelly, Matthew was so impressed that once I got back I was assigned to work with 3 different dragons.

I couldn’t believe that he allowed me to work with a Peruvian Vipertooth and not one but two Romanian Longhorns. I nagged him to assign me to one of those dragons for a year before my year in Sweden and he always said I wasn’t ready. But when I came back with the letter from my Swedish trainer, Matthew couldn’t believe how well I did and decided to give me a chance to work with dragons completely on my own.

I have been working with Hel, Lasair, and Rocker for over a year and I am doing great. All three of them listen to me and I have no trouble going through their daily routines. They trust me and I have learned so much from them in such a short amount of time. And apparently, it shows since my boss assigned me to the Hebridean Black.

“I would love to say that I am ready but the look on your face concerns me.” I lifted an eyebrow at him, my palms getting sweatier.

“Look, for how many years have you been begging me to let you work with a Black? Now you’re trying to chicken out?” He smirked.

“No, of course, not. I am just curious why the sudden change of hearts. Isn’t it too dangerous? Aren’t I unqualified to take care of a Hebridean Black?”

“Asterin.”

“What?” I turned my head to him, with more questions in my head than before.

“The dragon’s name is Asterin.” He explained and nodded toward the gate where 7 wizards appeared along with a big cage with a dragon chained inside.

We hurried to them and helped them unload the dragon. I had so many questions. We have never received a dragon that was chained or that needed so many people escorting it. What was Matthew not telling me?

They told us not to take the beast out of the cage until we reach its assigned habitat. Matt called 4 of my co-workers to help levitate the cage to a secluded area that was going to be Asterin’s home for the next 3 months.

Every time we get a new dragon to live in our reserve, we put it far away from the rest of the dragons so that it can get used to the environment change first before it’s introduced to other dragons. Then we determine if the dragon is capable of living with another of its breed – we never put more than 3 together – or if they’d prefer to have their own habitat. After those 3 months, the proper training can begin.

“I need some answers.” I frowned at my boss when we were left alone with the new dragon.

“Okay, so the dragon was put through a lot. She has trust issues and is very untamed for her age. She doesn’t want to fly and barely eats anything.” He explained.

“That’s why she’s so small for her age?” I leaned to the right to get a glimpse of Asterin behind Matthew.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“But I don’t understand. The dragonologists that brought her here are from the MacFusty clan. They take care of Hebridean Blacks, why was she brought here and where did they get her from?”

“They found her.”

“What do you mean they found her? You don’t simply stumble upon a dragon!” I furrowed my brows.

“But they did – abandoned in the forest close to their reserve. They heard her cries. She had both her wings broken and half of her teeth were missing.” Matthew continued.

“That would explain the not eating and flying part.” I could feel the heat on my face. If she was found like that someone had to hurt her and then just left her. How could someone do something like that to such a beautiful creature? Why would they hurt a dragon?

“They tried taking care of her,” Matt explained further, “but after not making any progress for more than half a year they contacted me.” He locked eyes with mine and it seemed he was trying to read my face.

“What’s with the look?”

“You know that you need 15+ years of experience to work with a Hebridean Black here.”

“I do. That’s why I asked you about 50 times in the last week why did you pick me?” My heart was racing, knowing I will finally get the answer to my question.

“I didn’t.” Matt cleared his throat.

“What?” “I didn’t pick you. They did.”

“Who? The MacFusty family?” I don’t think I was ever this confused – this didn’t make any sense. I knew about the clan. They were famous for taking in Hebridean Blacks and taking care of them before releasing them into the wild but there was no way they could know about me.

“They knew that the dragon needed better care and even though their property is expanding they reckoned it would be better if the dragon is moved to a bigger reserve,” Matthew said. “They contacted the Swedish Dragon Sanctuary and they recommended the dragon to be transported here, into your care.”

“The Swedish Sanctuary?” I said more to myself than to him.

“I guess they were impressed with how a 27-year-old tamed a Ukranian Ironbelly as if it was no big deal. And your trainer, Oskar, found it amusing when you called them extra large Cruppies.” Matthew playfully shook his head.

“Well, they are. Their size is just deceiving.” I defended my statement.

“Charles, you must’ve done something to impress them so much that they thought of you when they found out about Asterin’s situation.” Matthew put his hand on my shoulder and winked at me.

“And you just agreed?” I narrowed my eyes at him. I still couldn’t believe it. They singlehandedly picked me? They thought of me to help the dragon?

I took a deep breath. I was prepared for anything when Matt was keeping all of this a secret from me but I didn’t think that this involved me on such a large scale. This was a great honor, an honor about which I didn’t know how to feel. I am good with dragons but I am not that good, am I?

It rarely happens that a dragonologist is recommended to be assigned to a dragon, especially if they are 28 years old. I’m still learning. I am still observing and studying the dragons and now the MacFusty family knows my name?

I rubbed my eyes thinking I was dreaming. This opportunity won’t only escalate my career and make my day-to-day more fun, it will also make my dream to work with a Hebridean Black come true.

“I don’t know what to say.” Was all I could muster.

“Just enjoy it, Charles. I know how much you like a challenge.” He tapped me twice on the shoulder and walked away.

I swallowed thickly and looked at the dragon who was standing still and being aware of every speck that moved.

“Hi.” I waved slowly. “My name is Charlie and I’ll be your buddy for the foreseeable future.”

The dragon’s tail started to move from left to right and I was pretty sure that if I took a step forward I would get scorched.

“It’s okay. I mean you no harm.” I bowed my head, maintaining eye contact, and then sat on the ground. “See, if you want you can eat me right now.”

I looked at Asterin’s claws which were dug deep into the earth beneath her paws. It meant that she was tense and stressed and didn’t believe a word I said to her.

“I can leave if you want. Just let me come back so I can give you some dinner.” I started to stand up but a roar straight to my face made me sit back down.

“Okay, okay. You do not agree with me leaving. I understand.” I lifted my hands in defense.

I felt like my heart was going to escape my ribcage any moment now. I wasn’t scared. I was thrilled. I could see that this was going to be a tough challenge and I couldn’t wait to see how everything will unfold.

I sat still and had a staring contest with Asterin for the next 3 hours. My bum and back were killing me but I didn’t care. The dragon didn’t move a muscle and her claws were still dug deep into the ground.

“Asterin, it’s time for dinner. How about you let me stand up?” I motioned with my head to the sky – it being dark, that’s how long we sat together in silence.

The dragon didn’t move nor blinked so I inhaled sharply and without exhaling stood up slowly, maintaining eye contact. Asterin let out a silent growl but didn’t roar, which was a good sign. I backed away and once I was out of her sight I hurried to get her food. Hebridean Blacks love venison so that was what I was going to get her.

As I was heading out of the food supply hut, I grabbed a bag of apples just in case Asterin is a vegetarian like Crystal.

The whole way back to the dragon I was debating whether or not I should stay and observe her eating or should I just leave her alone. I wanted to see if she will even want to eat and if it’s painful when she chews the meat.

My decision, however, didn’t matter when I came back with the dinner and Asterin was nowhere to be found.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

[prose-for-hire]

UC Sunnyhell: Part one

Welcome to Sunnyhell! ☀

Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Series idea: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. The Scoobies take reader under their wing but warn her about Spike's reputation. Slow burn enemies to friends to lovers?

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan​

Warning: sex references. Swearing.

A/N: This is a college au !! There was a second part to this request but I didn’t have space to include it (just know I am using your ideas for the roles people would have on campus). This is part one of eight !!!!!! 🖤💜

You had been nervous for starting college. You weren’t even sure you wanted to move away from your hometown until the last second. This is why you ended up losing out on anywhere you could live on-campus. You were instead directed here.

To a little shared house just on the outskirts of the college. You had all of your stuff packed up and waiting to be moved in and you were just staring at the house. This would be your new home for the rest of the year. Your stomach flipped, a mix of nerves and excitement.

You were naturally more bookish. You enjoyed the theatre and musicals. Literature. Now, if you were honest upon looking back, a little sheltered. You were hoping this might change and that you could start fresh now that you were staring college. There were so many experiences and people that you were sure you would enjoy meeting.

You tentatively knocked on the door. You had packed up your little car and driven to UC Sunnydale the day before your course would start. You were assured that your roommate had your key and would tell you all about your new house.

You waited for a while before knocking again, a little louder. The door swung open almost immediately this time and you stepped back at the force of it.

A woman opened the door she was blonde and had rosy cheeks. Her skin was pale and she had plump, full lips. But you didn’t notice any of that. Because she had opened the door to you half naked. She stared at you as if to hurry you up. Cursing you with every breath you took.

As you managed to form words again, you began to ask.

“Oh... a-are you... Will-?”

“Do I fucking look like my name’s William?” She asked before shouting over her shoulder, “Spike one of your sluts is at the door!” her face was sullen as she grabbed up all of her stuff, slipped on some leggings and what you had thought was a bra as she pushed past you. Your eyes widened at her tone and you stepped out of her way less she body-slammed you in that direction anyway.

Your first impression of Spike was what one might call, a bad one. For one, you weren’t accustomed to meeting anyone for the first time fully naked.

He just raised an eyebrow as you stared open-mouthed “oh, right” he muttered, turning away slightly.

He wasn’t even embarrassed, his unlit cigarette hanging from his lip as he opened a draw and grabbed your key. He moved and handed it to you and you took it.

“Thanks” you squeaked, trying your best to act as if this was normal. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his face. He smirked, knowing exactly what you were trying not to look at. He sized you up for a moment, scanning his eyes over your body before shrugging and looking back up to your eyes and launching into his more formal greeting.

“Rules: don’t bloody touch any of my shit. Don’t start making me clean up, there’s a system oh, and please don’t start thinking we’re gonna braid each other’s hair and paint our nails - I didn’t want a bleeding roommate in the first place” He warned, pointing for emphasis. This gave you a flash of his already painted nails.

He rattled off a few more rules, as he lit up his cigarette. Rules such as don’t talk to him Monday through Friday, don’t speak to the people he brought back to the house ever and definitely don’t complain if you can smell alcohol and cigarettes.

“You’ve been warned. Right, your rooms the crap one on the left” he shrugged his head, before slamming the door to what was apparently his room as he spoke (to put some clothes on, you presumed). You started to walk towards the room he had pointed out, a little shell-shocked.

But you had barely stepped in when he opened his door again and popped his head out of the door, “Welcome to Sunnyhell!” He announced before slamming the door shut once more.

You moved everything into your room, you spent time making your room feel more like home. You spent a long time making it look cosy and yours.

To begin with, you and spike mostly kept out of each other’s way. You weren’t used to people being so blunt or hostile right off the bat. Still, you tried your best to be nice to him on the rare occasion that you did pass each other in the hall.

Your first day of classes had you feeling the way you always did. Lost. Both metaphorically and unfortunately you were also genuinely lost. You had taken a turn and you didn’t know where to go next. You checked your map but it didn’t make any sense.

You were just going to walk in a random direction until a kind voice spoke to you.

“Hey, you’re lost right?”

“Big time” You smiled sheepishly, noticing only now that your map was upside down. The blonde girl introduced herself as Buffy and seemed to take an instant like to you. She could tell you were a little out of your depth and it showed on your face as much as she had felt it inside on her first day.

You both started walking in the vague direction of the campus. She asked you what class you had and what room and she was determined to help you find it. You kept thanking her almost every other step for her kindness. But she just shook her head, showing that you had no reason to. She wanted to.

You got to know her and she asked about you. She explained that she and her friend Cordy were part of a sorority and that her and her friends had found it hard when they started college last year. As you rounded the corner and Buffy saw the room you had been looking for, she became slightly side-tracked. She saw one of her best friends.

You smiled at Buffy. You liked her, she seemed really friendly. She appears to be really popular too, she stops every other step to speak to someone.

“Oh, Will! Hey!” Buffy raised her hand as she did her voice to catch the redhead’s attention, “Y/n, this is the resident genius and science club president!”

The girl, Willow, was wearing  lab coat and smiling sweetly at you. Her aesthetic and Buffy’s didn’t really match so after greeting the new girl, you had to ask.

“And you two are friends?” You ask a little confused. You were still used to how cliquey high school had been so seeing lots of different people mixing and being friends was strange. But, you decided you really liked it.

“Best friends”

“Yeah! We all sit together at lunch and just hang. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, well-”

“Great, we meet at the canteen at one!” Buffy called, linking arms with Willow and leaving you at the door of the lecture room you needed.

You entered your class, trying your best not to feel so overwhelmed. You actually really enjoyed it and just hoped that this would continue through the rest of the year.

After class was over, you tried to familiarise yourself with the campus again. Looking at different stalls that had been set up for the new arrivals advertising clubs.

You felt a little out of place and so sort of stayed to the side lines, not really interacting with many of the students. You hung around by the noticeboard and something caught your eye. A bright pink flier. You took it down, staring at it.

It read ‘Open mic night – held by the Poetry society and the theatre club’ You folded the flier and stuffed it into your pocket with a little smile. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so left out here after all.

You looked up from your feet as you needed to try and find your next class. As you did, you managed to directly catch someone’s eye. Spike’s. You lifted your hand to awkwardly wave at him and give him a little smile at him but he just glared at your action and ignored you completely.

You watched lamely as he just stalked away. That stupid leather jacket of his whipping around his heels. Everyone moved out of his way they all scattered as he just walks wherever he likes.

You sigh, extremely embarrassed at the way he had blanked you. You shove the hand that had still been slightly raised into your pockets as you walked away towards your next class.

Eventually lunch came and you decided that you could go to the canteen. You stood awkwardly on the side looking around for a face that you recognised in the sea of bodies.

As soon as Buffy saw you, she called you over immediately and began to introduce you to her group of friends. It was quite the mix of people. You learned a lot in a short space of time.

There was Xander, he was on a basketball scholarship. Apparently he was the sole reason that the college team won so often. Although, how true that was you weren’t entirely sure. He was immediately friendly and invited you to sit. You had expected him to be unwelcoming and kind of arrogant but he was the complete opposite. He smiled and cracked a few goofy jokes upon your arrival to put you at ease.

Sitting next to him was Cordelia, but she preferred ‘Cordy’. She was Buffy’s sorority sister and head cheer coach. She was dating Xander, only in the sense that they shared sodas and the backseat of Cordy’s new car. She could have quite a biting attitude but she did this as a term of endearment you found… to the lucky few.

Then there was Willow, who you had already met. She was a proud nerd and she had more extracurriculars than you could count up to it seemed. She was incredibly sweet and good-natured treating you as if she had known you her whole life. You also learned she had a girlfriend.

Tara, who was sat braiding Willow’s hair seeing as she had finished her lunch already. It appeared like she needed to do something when she was sat in a group. She appeared nice although she didn’t speak as much as everyone else so it was

Usually, someone called Angel would show. Everyone on campus knew him apparently as he was a member of one of the frats. He was kind of hard to get hold of you discovered. Buffy was a little disappointed when she explained that he wasn’t coming to lunch today. She appeared to really like him.

After the introductions were made and everyone started to eat again, the focus turned to you briefly. Buffy said you should totally join their cheerleading group or one of the fraternities or sororities. But this wasn’t really your kind of thing. You explain that you’d rather find something else. As you said this, you felt the corner of the flier in your pocket. You hoped you would find at least someone that shared your interests. That you could bond with over the things that excited you. Form a connection with.

Not to say you weren’t already feeling a welcoming vibe from the table you were sat with. They were friendly but appeared to be holding back slightly upon your arrival. You got it, you were new. But it did make you feel like you stood out a little.

You stared into the distance as they chatted, until someone spoke to you.

“Where are you staying, y/n?” Willow’s girlfriend, Tara, asked kindly. She seemed quiet and so probably knew how you were feeling. You smiled at her, appreciating her effort.

“Oh, I applied late so I got what was left. I’m in a shared house just off campus, I’m living with this guy – Spike”

There was a collective intake of breath and some shared looks. They appeared worried for you. You looked up in confusion at their shocked faces.

“He’s bad news”

“Yeah, hot off the presses – Spike is a total no-go. Nobody else took that room for a reason, there are rumours” Buffy warned you, her voice going quiet.

“And that Billy Idol wannabe hair? I get vintage, but that guys totally stuck living in the eighties” Cordy commented, the resident expert in style you would soon discover.

“What are the rumours?” You asked, bracing yourself for the reply.

“Well, apart from the superficial stuff-”

“Yeah, Cor’s got that part covered” Xander teased which made Cordy stamp on his foot under the table. He yelped and they glared at each other before they began suddenly launching themselves at each other and making out.

“Anyway… he’s horrible to everyone. He once got into a fist fight over a half pack of cigarettes he found on the sidewalk”

“He has a new, uh, sex buddy every week and he’s on constant probation. They threaten to expel him from college all the time” Willow had whispered her warning which had made Buffy smile fondly.

But you weren’t smiling. You were starting to worry. You knew you should have checked the place out before you signed the agreement. Now you were stuck there.

“I can’t stay there if he’s gonna fight me! I can’t throw a punch” You said, not quite believing that he would try to hurt you.

“We have self-defence class on Thursdays, we can sign you up” Buffy said, patting your hand that was resting on the table. Your eyes widened, they really thought he might fight you.

“Buffy’s the teacher” Willow explained before telling you not to worry.

Since this conversation, you were even more cautious around Spike. The tension began to rise between you. His attitude was unforgiving and he had taken one look at you and immediately judged you as being ‘one of them’.

You tried to be his friend to begin with, being naturally friendly and wanting some kind of approval from him that you didn’t understand.

But it soon became apparent you were almost complete opposites.

He kept the kitchen in a mess where you liked to have some sense of cleanliness. He had become really annoyed with you when you had cleaned up. You had a spare couple of hours in the afternoon and thought you would make it look tidy. You had done it to be kind but he had snatched the bowl you had cleaned for him and stormed away.

The tension was beginning to rise between you. You spoke to your new friends about it when you sat with them at lunch and they fuelled your feelings. You were starting to realise just how much you didn’t like Spike.

You and Spike, apart from the odd hello from you and the irritated grunt from him, didn’t communicate. He had ripped up your note suggesting a rota system for keeping the house tidy. And he all-out blanked you if he ever stumbled onto some lame corner of the campus that you were hanging out in.

The tension moved from apparent indifference to an increasing distaste for the other and their opposing nature. Spike assumed you thought you were better than he was. Because you studied. And slept early and had friends that were ridiculously too clean-cut.

He had seen you hanging out with Buffy and her gang of losers. He instantly decided you were just some bland prep like them. He was waiting for the day you tried to bring one of them over so he could have the pleasure of kicking them out of his house the way they shunned him in public.

One evening, a few weeks after you had met Buffy’s friends in the canteen for the first time, you were home alone. Spike had gone out as he usually would to get drunk and you were staying in just like almost every other night since you had moved to Sunnydale.

You couldn’t sleep and so you had sat in the shared living space watching some boring late-night show for company. You hugged a cushion to your chest and just stared blankly at the screen. Feigning listening to the low buzzing of the set and hoping you could fall asleep this way.

It was at a time where you hadn’t started meeting your new group of friends outside of the canteen at lunch yet. You didn’t have people to talk to, you wouldn’t want to bother them anyway.

Suddenly the front door swung open and there was what sounded like some kind of scuffle happening through the doorway. You frowned confused. Until you saw that it was Spike shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. It was the third different person Spike had brought home that week. And it was Wednesday.

You had been sat in the dark and Spike was otherwise occupied so he dragged your houseguest to the sofa that you were sat on and tangled against them with an urgency fuelled by loneliness or alcohol – you didn’t stick around long enough to care why he did it.

You were fixed to the spot, your face contorted in horror as you had unwittingly become a part of his one night stand. But as their bodies rolled and pressed against yours, you screamed. They smelled as if they had brought the entire brewery home with them.

Spike barely even registered that you were there, he just cast an eye towards you and raised an eyebrow. As if you were the one in his way. You saw his hand lowering, groping his new friend and your eyes widened and you scrambled to remove yourself from the area and get to the solace of your room.

You scowled. He was so inconsiderate.

As the weeks went by it was apparent that you were never going to get along. You were annoyed that he wouldn’t acknowledge that the house was now shared. He treated you as if you were damp seeping into the walls. Tainting everywhere he turned. Bubbling and creating a problem in the corner. Spreading and ruining his mood with your stubborn insistence to stay in the home.

And you were starting to treat him the same way. Which, he knew you would eventually. He had guessed your friendliness had been an act.

You were just too different. You liked to study to stay on top of your work. Whereas Spike didn’t ever seem to be doing any work. You were always in his business, making comments and singing those musical songs around the house that bugged him so much.

It was as if you were living in a better way than him. You were trying to ‘improve’ him and he felt as if you were suffocating him with all of your little ideas about changing the house around. You were really starting to get on his nerves.

He kept irregular hours and this was okay by you, so long as it didn’t affect your sleep schedule. But, unfortunately it often did.

You had leaned over to turn your bedside lamp off and settled into bed. You closed your eyes, smiling at the day you had. Cordy and Buffy had taken you shopping. They insisted they would find you a new college wardrobe. You gave them a budget and your style ideas and they worked their magic.

You were so grateful they had kind of started to take you under their wing. You weren’t entirely sure if it was to get dirt on Spike at first, but they had gotten bored of the topic as the weeks went on and were more interested in getting to know you.

You began to drift into sleep as you recounted your day. Until all of a sudden you were jolted awake. Loud music had started playing. You checked the clock it was nearing midnight – you had gotten in much later than you usually would after your friends had taken you for a drink to celebrate a successful shopping trip.

The pounding of the music and the screaming vocals were so loud it was as if the band was playing a live set directly beside your bed. Your entire room appeared to be shaking because of it.

You got out of bed, your anger bubbling dangerously higher with every step you took towards the source of the noise. He was sat in the shared living area, drinking liquor from the bottle and nodding along to the music.

“I have a really important class tomorrow, can you keep it down?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound level.

“Don’t know. Can you keep your hands off my Weetabix?” He asked snidely. You had seen one of his friends or… whatever they were eat the last of it. But you were too embarrassed to bring up his promiscuity. The rumours had made you cautious of him and so you just didn’t say anything.

He quirked his eyebrow as if he had caught you out and turned to the cd player he was using. You sighed some relief but rather than turning it down he twisted the dial so that the volume was at its fullest.

This was it. You stalked towards the Cd player and turned the volume right down. He got up from his seat immediately, grabbing your upper arm to pull you away. His grip was firm and his body was extremely close to yours. His eyes were hard and unforgiving as he spoke.

“Did you forget the rules already? Don’t. touch. My. Bloody. Stuff”

You snatched your arm away and gritted your teeth. You couldn’t think of any witty comebacks. You wished you were Buffy or Willow – they would have known what to say.

Instead, you just expelled air through your nose and stormed off. The punk song now blaring out of the speakers again as you slammed your door shut.

You were so angry you were shaking. You stomped into bed, putting a pillow over your head and tried, and mostly failed, to get some sleep.

You were a zombie the next day. Completely running on caffeine. Your new friends helped you out, tried to wake you up before class and Cordy swore that when she saw Spike next she would give him a piece of her mind. You appreciated them so much.

You were worried because you didn’t seem to have as much in common with the others. Cordy and Buffy went to their cheer club and their sorority. Xander was the basketball star with a goofy, soft heart. And Willow was this complete sweetheart genius who had a love for learning and found the work here all so easy. Her girlfriend was really sweet too, although a little quiet. You had only met her once that time in the canteen but you decided you could probably call her a friend too.

You didn’t have much in common, you were more bookish and you had to work a lot harder to grasp what was being taught. Despite your love of learning, it didn’t come naturally to you. You had to work at it to maintain an average grade. This meant you would study even harder to achieve those grades that you truly desired.

But luckily, despite your suggested lack in commonality, they really liked you for some reason. You and your new friends had all just clicked. At least you had them to be accepting of you.

Either way, that still didn’t solve a problem like Spike.

He infuriated you. He made you want to scream. You wanted to move out. A dark part of you wanted to sneak into his room at night and smother him with the pillow he had forced you to cover your ears with.

You just hoped through the rest of the year that things couldn’t get any worse than it already was. That you could just ride it out.

You were sure there was no way to bridge this gap. No way you could possibly ever get over what a complete pain he was. You couldn’t stand him. He was smug and didn’t care about anything. He was selfish and he didn’t even acknowledge you in public.

You just wanted to get this college year done and get out of there. You had decided that if you ever saw Spike’s face again after this year – it would be one time too many.

#UC Sunnyhell #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn #multi chapter #multi fic #spike fic

[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 9 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader words: 5.0k genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut some chapters notes: this is more of a self-realization chapter, less of the romance :) oc development & one more chapter left before an epilogue!!!! thank you all for your support and patience, i know i took a while with this one, mostly because i really wanted to take a break and write something else. :)

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

Yura’s cheeks are stuffed with the pastries from the bakery that was recommended by one of Jungkook’s teammates, something you’ve been meaning to take her to lately but with your mind flooded with thoughts on your future, there hasn’t been much time to dedicate to her. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She’s eyeing you quizzically, uncomfortable with your distraught gaze. “You seem like you have something to say, so spit it.”

“I’m sorry,” You blurt with an agonizing frown. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pushing the plate of baked goods away from you, your body slouches in the seat. The aroma of the flakey croissant beside the in-house made strawberry jam wasn’t appealing anymore and your previous conceptions stole away your appetite. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to be a cook.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, shoving the plate back toward you. “Eat, loser.”

“Oh, come on. Stop acting like you’re not mad at me. I had no idea you were even going through anything—”

“Idiot, I’m not going through anything. I’m also not trying to be a cook. I’m trying to be a chef.” She corrects you, tearing off a piece of the croissant and bringing it to your lips. “Now take a bite of this, it’s crazy good.”

Abiding by her instruction, you open your mouth for her to feed you, chewing the soft pastry as it melts effortlessly on your tongue. “Good, right?” You nod in agreement. “I can’t help but think that I could’ve been there for you when you needed me the most. You were going through something, you were just as lost as I am.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. I kind of knew for a while, but I wasn’t sure. Sometimes we have to go through things alone to learn more about ourselves. Then Jungkook asked if I could help him with your little date, so I offered to do a picnic basket. It was for practice, and he seemed to be okay with it. How was the omelette?”

“Amazing. Which is why I was upset that I wasn’t a good enough friend to know that you cook so well.”

“Oh, please. Stop exaggerating... but really though. Was it that good?” Her eyes lit up at the compliment, emitting a chuckle from you. “It was, Yura. I’m seriously so proud of you. I wish I knew about your talents sooner.” 

Yura’s kind and patient, the qualities in a friend that everyone searches for. She has developed into a person who you found yourself depending on, someone who you wanted to stay around to share both good and bad times. Knowing that you weren’t there when she potentially needed you only made you disappointed in yourself. It was your turn to return the actions she provided for you; it was your turn to be a good friend.

She’s rolling her eyes again, a smile appearing upon her lips. “I told you, this is nothing. I’m still learning things about myself, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on anything.” You don’t believe her, but you take her words nonetheless, because you promise yourself and to her that from this day on, you’d try harder to be a better friend to her.

Walking out the café, a backpack slung over your shoulder, you glance at Yura who zips up her hoodie, snuggling in closer to the fabric to regain warmth as the night approaches along with the cool wind that blows in your direction. “Are you going to take the apprenticeship?” 

“How’d you even hear about that?” You’re surprised she knows this; there hadn’t been much exchange between the two of you since the last time you hung out. Yura scoffs, shaking her head as she fixes the straps of her backpack, strolling down the street beside you. “I’m your best friend, of course I know about it.”

“Jungkook? Hoseok? Which one was it that spilled?”

“Jungkook,” She confirms, a playfully innocent grin glued to her face. “But that’s besides the point. You got an offer of a lifetime, what does that mean for you?”  There's not much of a reaction from you, other than a slight shrug that you give her. It seemed great— getting an apprenticeship for a position that isn't for just anyone, but for you specifically. This was an endeavor that you never imagined yourself encountering. Goals and aspirations were a list to some people, especially Jungkook, but for you, that list hadn't been anything more than a title. So what did it mean to you, this opportunity that presented itself? "I don't know," You respond honestly, uncertain of what next steps to take. "I kind of am going through a dilemma." Yura raises a brow questioningly at you. "What is it?" You chew your bottom lip for a moment, trying to gather all your thoughts in a place before taking a deep breath of courage before exposing yourself to your friend. "Is it weird that I've been with Jungkook all my life, and now my so-called aspiration is on the same route of his?"

"Nobody is calling it that." "But if he's on the path of being a professional— what does it mean for me? Am I just a follower? Oh, Jungkook wants to be a professional swimmer, and now his girlfriend wants to do the same thing. How stupid does that sound?"

She shakes her head in disagreement, walking side by side with you along on the sidewalk, the sun slowly beginning to set whilst the wind makes its appearance again, sending chills down your spine. “Why does everything have to be about Jungkook? Why can’t it be about you for once? When you think of swimming, you think of Jungkook immediately, but why can’t you consider it being something you’re interested in?”

“Because Yura, I don’t know!” You exclaim, stopping in your tracks. It was hard, dreadfully hard making a decision that you weren’t sure of. You’re only in your teens, you think to yourself, at such a young age with the responsibility of making choices that may determine where your route is headed for the rest of your life. In all honesty, you want to cry; force yourself to shed all the tears even if you have to because the amount of pressure sitting on top of your shoulders was wearing you down.

You’re immensely grateful for the opportunity that just happened to land at your feet, but with a chance to do something big, you can’t help but feel that guilt eating you inside, wondering if this was truly what you wanted to do, and what if it wasn’t? Did it mean you took away the possibility of an experience from someone who yearned for it more than you did?

Yura ceases her steps, eyes meeting yours that were pools of pity. “It’s okay to not know. But you’re running out of time and have to pick what you want to do soon.”

“But Jungkook really wants me to do it.”

“Why do you care about what Jungkook thinks?”

Because Jungkook is the only person in my life whose opinions that I actually care about, is what you want to say to her, but it goes against all of the rules you’ve given yourself. You want to be independent, you want to be selfish in these moments that allowed you to, but at the end of the day, pleasing other people was a flaw you had never been able to grow out of.

“I don’t,” You lie, fiddling with the straps of your bag in between your nimble fingers. “I don’t care about what he thinks.”

She’s flabbergasted. “You absolutely do care. You care about what he thinks, and you’re afraid of disappointing him.” Yura says your name lovingly, in a tone that brings chills down your spine because she’s serious this time, a rarity in its form. “Please stop caring about what others think of you and make this decision on your own. There’s a chance that Jungkook won’t be with you at the end of this road, and you have to be prepared for it.”

“But it’s so freaking hard, Yura,” You finally admit, bending down to sit at the curb on the street. “I spent almost my entire life with Jungkook. My parents never approved of anything and weren’t ever happy with anything I did; he’s the one person who has supported anything I did and all I worry about is if he’s going to turn away like they did.”

“Did you just forget my existence again?” Yura interjects, sitting down beside you, giving you a slight nudge. “Listen, whether or not Jungkook decides to be by your side for this entire thing, I’m still here, right? It’s true, I can’t swoon you nor can I give you kisses because well, no offense, you’re not exactly my type—“ you snort, “—but I can be the friend portion here. You got me, you don’t need some boy you love, you have a friend.”

How crazy is it that you’re living in a fanfic trope? Your best friend from childhood is your neighbor, your first kiss, first time, first kiss... the list goes on.

So when you’re walking in the direction of where he stands in the parking lot of your high school, Jungkook’s car parked alongside his other teammates, while he leans against the hood of his car with the guys crowding around him. He looks like every other main character of a romantic film; hair slicked back, changed out of his uniform and swim clothes, now in a t-shirt that’s tight around his frame paired with light washed denim pants with tears and rips that hugs his thighs so deliciously. The laugh that escapes his lips is melodic, melting your heart seeing how happy he looks just by being with his friends.

You’re going to miss the hell out of this if he’s disappointed in your decision.

Approaching the group, the guys holler at the sight of you. “Hey! You’re finally here! Jungkook refuses to leave without you, so we’ve been waiting around until you came.”

“Were you?” You ask, eyes meeting your boyfriend. “Are you waiting for something in particular?”

Jungkook glances at the guys before back at you nervously, palms getting sweaty. “Uh... how do you feel about coming with us tonight?”

“Where to?”

Hoseok snorts from behind, almost bursting into laughter at how anxious Jungkook is around you. It’s cute, really, because despite officially together, he still acts as though he’s pining over his crush on you. “Oh, come on, it’s not hard to ask, just ask her!” Jimin adds into the push by actually pushing him.

Jungkook stumbles closer to you, slightly breathless. “So... there’s this party tonight...”

You giggle— mostly because he seems as smitten with you as you are with him. “Jeon, are you trying to ask me to be your date to a party or something? Why are you jittery?”

He is. And he can’t help but feel like his heart quickens whenever he sees you in a skirt and your hair down, first few buttons of your uniform unfastened and blazer hanging off your arm. Even in makeup that’s been on for 8 hours straight, he thinks you’re pretty. “Yeah,” his response is airy, “I’m hoping we could set aside a sleepover and head over to Hoseok’s place tonight to blow off some steam. How’s that sound?” Chuckling at his lack of confidence in the question, you nod in agreement. “Okay, that sounds great. When are we heading out?”

Getting ready for the party proves to be one of the most nerve-wreaking things you’ve done in a while, including that apprenticeship offer. 

“Why why why are these jeans so tight?”

“This dress shows my belly rolls.”

You’re patting the fabric that’s wrinkled around your stomach region as you sigh when you see the sideview of your body in the mirror. “I should workout. Does Jungkook find this attractive?”

“And this skirt is too short. It shows my freaking underwear.” Bending over in the mirror to see yourself from behind, you grumble at the sight.

“Wait— turn over here, I want to see.”

“Holy—“ Flinching in the direction of the voice, you place a hand on your chest to ease your breathing; Jungkook sitting at his window sill, hair let loose, fresh from a wash, still dressed in his sweats. “You look cute in that. Twirl for me. Oh, and bend over too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to bend over for you, Jeon.” He frowns. “Why not? I want to see what color your panties are.” Just when you’re ready to drop the blinds on him, he has his hand out. “Wait wait wait, don’t close it. Wear those jeans you wore the other day. And that black t-shirt. I think you look pretty even in casual clothes.”

While searching in your closet for said outfit, he stays seated by the window, resting his chin on his arm. “So... can we talk about break?”

“Uh, sure,” You respond, only half paying attention as you’re shuffling through the tremendous amount of clothes you have, the space between your brows crinkling in focus. “What about it?”

“So... the team and I had these plans to go on a lake trip...”

“Okay...?”

“And it’s an all guys trip.” He finishes, finally getting to the point. “I know we talked about the possibility of spending break together—“

“You should go, Bub.” You interrupt, eyes soon lighting up when you find the shirt, then meeting with his gaze. “I think it’ll be good for you. We’re not going to be in high school forever and you guys might separate when you get to college.” 

Jungkook thinks he hit the jackpot with you. From your understanding nature, to your independence, support... all the qualities you had were stacked up on the pros pile for him. “You’ll be okay? Without me?”

He asks this question and it stings a bit. You know he doesn’t mean it in that way but you can’t help but think about it in that direction. There had been a lot of dependency on Jungkook throughout your friendship; hardship, accomplishments, direction of your dreams— he’d be there for all, guiding you and lifting you up. But did he think that you wouldn’t be able to be without him? 

“I’ll be fine,” You reply, attempting to hide the disappointment in your voice. Head peeking out the window, you grin mischievously. “Well, I’m going to get ready now... so...” Quickly backing away, you shut the blinds immediately, and Jungkook groans. “I wanted to see a show!”

Arriving at the party with Jungkook by your side is more than an accessory— he’s the main point of an outfit. You learn that he wanted you to wear that t-shirt just because he wanted to match with you, knowing that you’d oppose it but would be too lazy to even change afterwards.

“You guys came!” Hoseok cries, weaving his way through the crowd of people while having to raise his voice for you to hear. He has a solo cup in hand, liquid sloshing around as people push and shove around him. “Go to the kitchen! Grab a drink!”

To two of you do, eventually Jungkook being pulled away by friends, chatting up a storm with his face slowly growing crimson from his asian flush. Deciding that it was a night to enjoy yourself, you play around with the ingredients from his fridge, cooking yourself up a mojito.

“Are you making a mojito? Can I join and make myself one too?”

“Sure,” You grin, looking up at the stranger. “Help yourself.”

This girl is absolutely gorgeous. Hair jet black and straight, stretching to her lower back with skin milky smooth and makeup done effortlessly naturally, with a body so slim and appealing in her body-con dress, a sight for sore eyes, you’re suddenly boiling inside because you’re wishing it was you. You learn her name is Somin, a University student who attended your high school last year, friends with the swim team but you never met her before.

“So, what brings you here?” She asks, searching through the drawers for a knife. “You don’t seem like the type to go to parties.”

Rinsing a couple limes under the faucet beside her, you nod. “Yeah, I’m not. Got dragged here so I guess I’m left with no choice. What about you? Trying to get away tonight?”

She laughs, so feminine and light. “Actually, trying to get closer. There’s a guy I’ve had my eyes on for the longest time. His mom and mine used to be friends so I saw me occasionally. I mentioned that I was in love with him and he freaked and left. But! I heard from Hoseok that he was coming tonight, so I’m hoping I get to see him.”

“Ah,” You respond, mouth open while taking the knife from her hands, slicing the lime into pieces. “Well, I wish you luck. I know how that feels.”

“Wait!” She exclaims, nudging you as you wince, startled and almost cutting yourself by her sudden action. “He’s coming!” Looking from the cutting board laying on the island counter, your eyes trail up to see the familiar figure walking toward the two of you as Somin waves eagerly. “Jungkook!”

She’s in love with Jungkook? When the hell did she know him?

“Oh, Somin!” He greets, smile so wide from the amount of alcohol in him. “I didn’t know you were here. I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” Well, how awkward. Somin turns to look at you, mouth agape, shunned. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah!” He’s almost yelling in your ear now, rounding the counter to pull you close with a hand on your waist. “The love of my life. Isn’t she so cute?” Your lips tug into a painful smile, apologetic toward Somin. How is it that every female you encounter just so happens to be so in love with Jeon Jungkook?

You can’t even blame them, in all honestly. He’s handsome, generous, has a car and can drive, a freaking athlete, and he can sing. This guy was the entire package and he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Forget high school girls chasing after him, Jungkook already had college girls swooning and it’s left you wondering what it’d be like once the two of you head to University.

That night home, you drive. Deciding to spend the night taking care of him since he seemed totally wasted, you’re on route to his house while pondering deeply about the events of the night.

“What’s going on in your head, bubba?” Despite the amount of slurs that slip from his mouth that night, he’s oddly stable.

“Bubba?” You laugh at the new nickname. “Uh, just some stuff.”

“Be honest?” He asks, looking over at you with glassy eyes as his head is laid back against the seat. “I wanna hear what you’re thinking about. I like hearing you talk.”

Licking your lips, you’re having an inner debate on whether or not to let Jungkook in on your thoughts. Succumbing to his request, you sigh because communication is important in a relationship. On the bright side, he might forget about this conversation tomorrow anyways.

“The girl earlier tonight? Somin? She told me she was in love with you.”

“Huh?” He seems just as surprised at this new information. “That’s crazy. We used to hang out during Sundays when my mom would force me to go to church. Then I got old enough to decide if I wanted to go or not.”

You hum, stopping the car at the red light. “Well, it had me thinking. We’re going off to college soon. What does that mean for us? You’d have girls dropping at your feet, completely smitten with you. What if I end up at another college?”

“We’ll figure it out then. But I know how much I’m in love with you, whatever you do and wherever you go. I’ll be sad if I can’t follow you or you follow me to college, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Although he’s slow when he speaks, he finishes off what’s on his own mind before drifting off into slumber before you could even chime in a response.

A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

It takes a lot of soul searching.

You’ve spent a week away from everyone— Yura, your family, everyone, even Jungkook. He thinks he did something wrong but you assure him that he hasn’t, rather that you needed some time for yourself. Coincidentally enough, that week was break; Jungkook and his teammates had a vacation planned and Yura picked up a part-time job at a bakery anyway.

Maybe it’s the breeze from the salty sea, the humidity sticking to your skin or the taste of the strawberry ice cream that hits your tongue, but the air feels lighter here. Inhaling in the fresh aroma the beach brings, it brings you back to when you came here last time with Jungkook and he professes his love. It brings a smile that tugs on the edges of your lips, a memory that you would never forget, your first love reciprocating his feelings for you. 

“Oh, did you drop this?” 

Quickly turning, you realize that what was in the hands of the person in front of you is your wallet—how irresponsible do you have to be that you dropped your wallet and didn’t even notice? “Oh my gosh, fuck, it’s my wallet!” You call out, grabbing it from their grasp before meeting eyes with them. “Thank you, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find it!”

The person waves you off, a grin drawn across the face of a male, cheeks so supple and milky smooth. “Think nothing of it. Be careful though, there’s a lot of pickpocketers around here.”

You nod in agreement, lips pressed in a straight line, slightly disappointed in yourself. It’s like he reads your mind because he then says, “It’s okay though. It happens to the best of us.”

“Can I at least get you something for not robbing me? And my fate being that you so happen to not be a pickpocketer?”

The guy laughs; something about the warmness he radiates makes you trust him, fraternizing with this stranger with qualities of a sweet friend. Something about Junmyeon makes you fearless, trusting him enough to propose the idea of treating him out to anything for being a good samaritan. 

You learn that his name was Junmyeon, and he’s way older than you in comparison, but he has a lot of words of wisdom to share. After a lot of convincing, Junmyeon takes your offer for a cup of coffee—iced please, he begs, and in exchange, he in addition, tells you about his life like a middle-aged man.

He’s only 29.

“You’ve got a couple years ahead of me,” You begin, and it only sparks Junmyeon to raise a brow at you questioningly. “I’m stuck in a dilemma. How did you know what you wanted to do in life?”

Junmyeon chortles, mostly because he finds it interesting that you seem to think he has his shit together. The both of you had decided to take your cool drinks out on one of the benches on the boardwalk that faces the water. “You realize that I’m just twenty-nine right, not ninety-two?” You blink in confusion at his light-hearted joke, watching the sunset behind him. He continues on, “It means that I’m not that old, kiddo. I’m a bit older than you. And despite what you think, I don’t have my shit together.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Well,” He starts, imitating your own words against you, “for one, I graduated college at the age of twenty-three. With a degree I didn’t end up using, by the way, and decided that the best thing for me at the time was to follow this girl that I was head over heels with. That being said, it didn’t end very well. Fast forward to today, I’m back in school trying to get my PhD... in a completely different field than what you’d expect.” Reminiscing back to his past mistakes, he shakes his head in disbelief. “There are just things you should be selfish about, and it took me a while to finally get that.”

“How did you decide on those things? And how do I decide what I want to do?”

“Well, for one, if you’re really hesitant about it, you probably don’t want it.”

And that’s when it hits. 

A day at the beach alone, meeting a stranger who finds your wallet and gifts you words of advice was more of a helpful trip than expected.

“You... got really tan?”

“You can be honest. I know I’m more red than tan.” You stifle a laugh, watching from his bed as Jungkook enters his room with his bags, waddling around to unpack his belongings from his trip. He’s in so much pain, and not to mention crimson red like he’s Santa’s suit, mostly from forgetting to put on sunscreen despite the many exchanged texts reminding him to remember to put on SPF. Turns out the entire team was burnt as well.

Browsing through a magazine that you found on his bedside table, you smile at the sight of your boyfriend wincing while sitting on the carpeted floor, attempting to unzip his duffle bag. “I didn’t know you were still shy seeing me. You’re all red and blushy.” You joke, leaning over to tap his nose, only for him to groan in agony. “Baby, I love seeing you, but I’m resenting asking you to come over.”

You gasp in feign surprise with a hand on your chest in exaggeration. “Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?”

He throws a dirty t-shirt at you in hopes it lands on your face, and lucky for him, it shoots his target.. “Bullseye,” He says, content with his shot. “I worked out in that, just so you know.” Grimacing and tossing it back at him, he lets out a chuckle at your disgust. “That was horrible. It reeks.”

“Speaking of horrible, I couldn’t believe we didn’t spend the break together. I know it sucked without me. How was your week away?”

You roll your eyes, opening a drawer to drop the magazine back into it. “You’re the one who made plans, lover boy, with your group of other boys. But it was great, I think I learned a lot of things about myself.”

“That’s a step in the right direction. What’d you do in that time?”

Where to even start? Do you tell him about Junmyeon? What about the weather down the shore—humid and sticky, just how Jungkook likes it— or maybe that funnel cake you got to try that was so sweet and melted on the tip of your tongue? Or would that defeat the purpose and he’d be sad he missed out on that?

“I met someone,” is the words you manage to formulate out of your mouth, and the expression on his face is distorted in shock. “Oh— wait, not like that, I just met someone at the beach and they became a friend.”

“Scare a guy to the point of breaking his heart, why don’t you?” He’s stopped to listen to you in the midst of packing, attention fully yours. “So, what about this friend?”

Leaning against the bed frame, you take a moment to let your mind sink into your thoughts. There’s a lot to unpack, more than what’s in Jungkook’s duffle bag that’s similar to a clown car, but you want to do this right. “He gave me some life advice. He’s a bit older and gave me some guidance that could help me on what next steps I should be taking.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to make a decision?”

You chew on your bottom lip. In the end, you know that whatever you choose is solely based on your happiness but you can’t help but worry about what Jungkook thinks. “I think I am. What do you think I should do?” Maybe you should test the waters first.

He wrinkles his brows in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

You shrug at this question. “What do you think I should choose?”

Jungkook stops pulling things from his bag, eyes locking with yours and you feel your chest tighten at the serious shift in the atmosphere. “You’re not really asking me this, are you?” Now you’re the confused one. “What?”

“I don’t care what you choose. I mean, I care, but I don’t care as in I won’t be upset if you rather do one thing over the other. Is this what’s bothering you? Do you feel guilty about all of this? I told you, I’m always here for you, even when I’m trying to drill that into your head it seems like you don’t get it.”

“So...”

“So if you said that you didn’t want the apprenticeship, I wouldn’t be opposed to you going another route. Vice versa, same result. We’ve been together our entire lives, it would take a lot for me to actually upset with you. I just need you to be honest.”

Your heart swells. If anything, that’s all you really wanted— his support.

Sitting in the seat that you presumed that Jungkook had sat in when he’d gotten his offer, you feel slightly uneasy finding yourself in this situation. The room is filled with cases of books, most that you’ve never heard or seen before; the unfamiliarity churning a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. There’s even a fireplace in this office, a portrait of what seems to be one of the founders of the university that hangs over it, and a fuzzy... bear rug that lays in front of it. 

The recruiter closes the door behind her, striding to her desk before settling down in her large swivel chair that only seems to make her look even more powerful than she was already. 

“So,” She begins, straightening the pile of papers on her desk. “You’re here to talk about the offer?”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #gyukultfics #highschool!au #bts high school au #f2l #jeon jungkook

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

hi! so we have established at this point that you have A Lot Of thoughts about antony and brutus. but how does caesar (julius, not the little bitch octavian) play into that? bc like. my knowledge and impression of them is very limited and mainly constructed from watching hbo rome and idk. i think it'd be fun to throw caesar in the mix. love all the art and writing on your blog btw! have a nice day.

Hey, okay! So this used to be over 30 pages long (Machiavelli and Caligula got involved and that's when things got out of hand), but through the power of friendship and two late night writing dates fueled by coffee, I’ve cut it way down to under 10. Many thanks to the people who listened to me ramble about it at length, and also to a dear friend for helping me cut this down to under ten pages!

Also, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the stuff I make! It makes me very happy to hear that!

And quickly, a Disclaimer: I’m not an academic, I’m not a classicist, I’m not a historian, and I spend a lot of time very stressed out that I’ve tricked people into thinking I’m someone who has any kind of merit in this area. It's probably best to treat this as an abstract character analysis!

On the other hand, I love talking about dead men, so, with enthusiasm, here we go!

For this, I’m going to cut Shakespeare and HBO Rome out of the framework and focus more on a historical spin.

Caesar is a combination of a manipulator and a catalyst. A Bad Omen. The remaining wound that’s poisoning Rome.

Cassius gets a lot of the blame for Brutus’ turn to assassination, but it overlooks that Brutus was already inclined towards political ambition, as were most men involved in the political landscape of the time.

Furthermore, although Sulla had actually raised the number of praetorships available from six to eight, there were still only two consulships available. There was always the chance that death or disgrace might remove some of the competition and hence ease the bottleneck. But, otherwise, it was at the top of the ladder that the competition was particularly fierce: whereas in previous years one in three praetors would have gone on to become consul, from the 80s BC onwards the chances were one in four. For the senators who had made it this far, it mattered that they should try to achieve their consulship in the earliest year allowed to them by law. To fail in this goal once was humiliating; to fail at the polls twice would be deemed a signal disgrace for a man like Brutus.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

The way Caesar offered Brutus political power the way that he did, and Brutus accepting it, locked them into the assassination outcome.

Here is a man who’s built his entire image around honor and liberty and virtu, around being a staunch defender of morals and the republic

In these heated circumstances, Brutus composed a bitter tract On the Dictatorship of Pompey (De Dictatura Pompei), in which he staunchly opposed the idea of giving Pompey such a position of power. ‘It is better to rule no one than to be another man’s slave’, runs one of the only snippets of this composition to survive today: ‘for one can live honourably without power’, Brutus explained, ‘but to live as a slave is impossible’. In other words, Brutus believed it would be better for the Senate to have no imperial power at all than to have imperium and be subject to Pompey’s whim.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

and you give him political advancement, but without the honor needed for this advancement to mean anything?

At the same time, however, Brutus had gained his position via extremely un-republican means: appointment by a dictator rather than election by the people. As the name of the famous career path, the cursus honorum, suggests, political office was perceived as an honour at Rome. But it was one which had to be bestowed by the populus Romanus in recognition of a man’s dignitas.69 In other words, a man’s ‘worth’ or ‘standing’ was only really demonstrated by his prior services to the state and his moral qualities, and that was what was needed to gain public recognition. Brutus had got it wrong. As Cicero not too subtly reminded him in the treatise he dedicated to Brutus: ‘Honour is the reward for virtue in the considered opinion of the citizenry.’ But the man who gains power (imperium) by some other circumstance, or even against the will of the people, he continues, ‘has laid his hands only on the title of honour, but it is not real honour’.70

Brutus may have secured political office, then, but he had not done so honourably; nor had he acted in a manner that would earn him a reputation for virtue or everlasting fame.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

Brutus in the image that he fashioned for himself was not compatible with the way Caesar was setting him up to be a political successor, and there was really never going to be any other outcome than the one that happened.

The Brutus of Shakespeare and Plutarch’s greatest tragedy was that he was pushed into something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. The Brutus of history’s greatest tragedy was accepting Caesar’s forgiveness after the Caesar-Pompey conflict, and then selling out for political ambition, because Caesar's forgiveness is not benevolent.

Rather than have his enemies killed, he offered them mercy or clemency -- clementia in Latin. As Caesar wrote to his advisors, “Let this be our new method of conquering -- to fortify ourselves by mercy and generosity.” Caesar pardoned most of his enemies and forbore confiscating their property. He even promoted some of them to high public office.

This policy won him praise from no less a figure than Marcus Tullius Cicero, who described him in a letter to Aulus Caecina as “mild and merciful by nature.” But Caecina knew a thing or two about dictators, since he’d had to publish a flattering book about Caesar in order to win his pardon after having opposed him in the civil war. Caecina and other beneficiaries of Caesar’s unusual clemency took it in a far more ambivalent way. To begin with, most of them were, like Caesar, Roman nobles. Theirs was a culture of honor and status; asking a peer for a pardon was a serious humiliation. So Caesar’s “very power of granting favors weighed heavily on free people,” as Florus, a historian and panegyrist of Rome, wrote about two centuries after the dictator’s death. One prominent noble, in fact, ostentatiously refused Caesar’s clemency. Marcius Porcius Cato, also known as Cato the Younger, was a determined opponent of populist politics and Caesar’s most bitter foe. They had clashed years earlier over Caesar’s desire to show mercy to the Catiline conspirators; Cato argued vigorously for capital punishment and convinced the Senate to execute them. Now he preferred death to Caesar’s pardon. “I am unwilling to be under obligations to the tyrant for his illegal acts,” Cato said; he told his son, "I, who have been brought up in freedom, with the right of free speech, cannot in my old age change and learn slavery instead.

-Barry Strauss, Caesar and the Dangers of Forgiveness

something else that's a fun adjacent to the topic that's fun to think about:

The link between ‘sparing’ and ‘handing over’ is common in the ancient world.763 Paul also uses παραδίδωμι again, denoting ‘hand over, give up a person’ (Bauer et al. 2000:762).764 The verb παραδίδωμι especially occurs in connection with war (Eschner 2010b:197; Gaventa 2011:272).765 However, in Romans 8:32, Paul uses παραδίδωμι to focus on a court image (Eschner 2010b:201).766 Christina Eschner (2010b:197) convincingly argues that Paul’s use of παραδίδωμι refers to the ‘Hingabeformulierungen’ as the combination of the personal object of the handing over of a person in the violence of another person, especially the handing over of a person to an enemy.767 Moreover, Eschner (2009:676) convincingly argues that Isaiah 53 is not the pre-tradition for Romans 8:32.

Annette Potgieter, Contested Body: Metaphors of dominion in Romans 5-8

Along with the internal conflict of Pompey, the murderer of Brutus’ father, and Caesar, the figurehead for everything that goes against what Brutus stands for, Brutus accepting Caesar’s forgiveness isn’t an act of benevolence, regardless of Caesar’s intentions.

On wards, Caesar owns Brutus. Caesar benefits from having Brutus as his own, he inherits Brutus’ reputation, he inherits a better PR image in the eyes of the Roman people. On wards, nothing Brutus does is without the ugly stain of Caesar. His career is no longer his own, his life is no longer fully his own, his legacy is no longer entirely his. Brutus becomes a man divided.

And it’s not like it was an internal struggle, it was an entire spectacle. Hypocrisy is theatrical. Call yourself a man of honor and then you sell out? The people of Rome will remember that, and they’re going to make sure you know it.

After this certain men at the elections proposed for consuls the tribunes previously mentioned, and they not only privately approached Marcus Brutus and such other persons as were proud-spirited and attempted to persuade them, but also tried to incite them to action publicly. 12 1 Making the most of his having the same name as the great Brutus who overthrew the Tarquins, they scattered broadcast many pamphlets, declaring that he was not truly that man's descendant; for the older Brutus had put to death both his sons, the only ones he had, when they were mere lads, and left no offspring whatever. 2 Nevertheless, the majority pretended to accept such a relationship, in order that Brutus, as a kinsman of that famous man, might be induced to perform deeds as great. They kept continually calling upon him, shouting out "Brutus, Brutus!" and adding further "We need a Brutus." 3 Finally on the statue of the early Brutus they wrote "Would that thou wert living!" and upon the tribunal of the living Brutus (for he was praetor at the time and this is the name given to the seat on which the praetor sits in judgment) "Brutus, thou sleepest," and "Thou art not Brutus."

Cassius Dio

Brutus knew. Cassius knew. Caesar knew. You can’t escape your legacy when you’re the one who stamped it on coins.

Caesar turned Brutus into the dagger that would cut, and Brutus himself isn’t free from this injury. It’s a mutual betrayal, a mutual dooming.

By this time Caesar found himself being attacked from every side, and as he glanced around to see if he could force a way through his attackers, he saw Brutus closing in upon him with his dagger drawn. At this he let go of Casca’s hand which he had seized, muffled up his head in his robe, and yielded up his body to his murderers’ blows. Then the conspirators flung themselves upon him with such a frenzy of violence, as they hacked away with their daggers, that they even wounded one another. Brutus received a stab in the hand as he tried to play his part in the slaughter, and every one of them was drenched in blood.

Plutarch

For Antony, Caesar is a bad sign.

Brutus and Antony are fucked over by the generation they were born in, etc etc the cannibalization of Rome on itself, the Third Servile War was the match to the gasoline already on the streets of Rome, the last generation of Romans etc etc etc. They are counterparts to each other, displaced representatives of a time already gone by the time they were alive.

Rome spends its years in a state of civil war after civil war, political upheaval, and death. Neither Brutus or Antony will ever really know stability, as instability is hallmark of the times. Both of them are at something of a disadvantage, although Brutus has what Antony does not, and what Brutus has is what let’s him create his own career. Until Caesar, Brutus is owned by no one.

This is not the case for Antony.

You can track Antony’s life by who he’s attached to. Very rarely is he ever truly a man unto himself, there is always someone nearby.

In his youth, it is said, Antony gave promise of a brilliant future, but then he became a close friend of Curio and this association seems to have fallen like a blight upon his career. Curio was a man who had become wholly enslaved to the demands of pleasure, and in order to make Antony more pliable to his will, he plunged him into a life of drinking bouts, love-affairs, and reckless spending. The consequence was that Antony quickly ran up debts of an enormous size for so young a man, the sum involved being two hundred and fifty talents. Curio provided security for the whole of this amount, but his father heard of it and forbade Antony his house. Antony then attached himself for a short while to Clodius, the most notorious of all the demagogues of his time for his lawlessness and loose-living, and took part in the campaigns of violence which at that time were throwing political affairs at Rome into chaos.

Plutarch

(although, in contrast to Brutus, we rarely lose sight of Antony. As a person, we can see him with a kind of clarity, if one looks a little bit past the Augustan propaganda. He is, at all times, human.)

Antony being figuratively or literally attached to a person starts early, and continues politically. While Brutus has enough privilege to brute force his way into politics despite Cicero’s lamentation of a promising life being thrown off course, Antony will instead follow a different career path that echoes in his personal life and defines his relationships.

Whereas some young men often attached or indebted themselves to a patron or a military leader at the beginning of their political lives,

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

+

3. During his stay in Greece he was invited by Gabinius, a man of consular rank, to accompany the Roman force which was about to sail for Syria. Antony declined to join him in a private capacity, but when he was offered the command of the cavalry he agreed to serve in the campaign.

Plutarch

To take it a step further, it even defines how he’s perceived today looking back: it’s never just Antony, it’s always Antony and---

It can be read as someone being taken advantage of, in places, survival in others, especially in Antony's early life. Other times, it appears like Antony himself is the one who manipulates things to his favor, casting aside people and realigning himself back to an advantage.

or when he saw an opportunity for faster advancement, he was willing to place the blame on a convenient scapegoat or to disregard previous loyalties, however important they had been. His desertion of Fulvia's memory in 40, and, much later, of Lepidus, Sextus Pompey, and Octavia, produced significant political gains. This characteristic, which Caesar discovered to his cost in 47, gives the sharp edge to Antony's personality which Syme's portrait lacks, especially when he attributes Antony's actions to a 'sentiment of loyalty' or describes him as a 'frank and chivalrous soldier'. In this context, one wonders what became of Fadia.19

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 47 B.C.

Caesar inherits Antony, and like Brutus, locks him in for a doomed ending.

The way Caesar writes about Antony smacks of someone viewing another person as something more akin to a dog, and it carries over until it’s bitter conclusion.

Caesar benefits from Antony immensely. The people love Antony, the military loves Antony. He’s charming, he’s self aware, he’s good at what he does. Above all of that, he has political ambitions of a similar passion as Brutus.

Antony drew some political benefit from his genial personality. Even Cicero, who from at least 49 did not like him,15 was prepared to regard some of his earlier misdemeanours as harmless.16 Bluff good humour, moderate intelligence, at least a passing interest in literature, and an ability to be the life and soul of a social gathering all contributed to make him a charming companion and to bind many important people to him. He had a lieutenant's ability to follow orders and a willingness to listen to advice, even (one might say especially) from intelligent women.17 These attributes made Antony able to handle some situations very well."1

There was a more important side to his personality, however, which contributed to his political survival. Antony was ruthless in his quest for pre-eminence

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

None of this matters, because after all Antony does for Caesar

Plutarch's comment that Curio brought Antony into Caesar's camp is surely mistaken.59 Anthony had been serving as Caesar's officer from perhaps as early as 53, after his return from Syria.60 He is described as legatus in late 52,61 and was later well known as Caesar's quaestor.62 It is more likely that the reverse of the statement is true, that Antony assisted in bringing Curio over to Caesar. If this were so, then he performed a signal service for Caesar, for gaining Curio meant attaching Fulvia, who provided direct access to the Clodian clientela in the city. Such valuable political connections served to increase Antony's standing with Caesar, and to set him apart from other officers in his army.63

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

Caesar still, for whatever reasons, fucks over Antony spectacularly with the will. Loyalty is repaid with dismissal, and it will bury the Republic for good.

It’s not enough for Caesar to screw him over just once, it becomes generational and ugly. Caesar lives on through Octavian: it becomes Octavian’s brand, his motif, propaganda wielded like a knife. Octavian, thanks to Caesar, will bring Antony to his bitter conclusion

And for my "bitter" conclusion, I’ll sign off by saying that there are actual scholars on Antony who are more well versed than I am who can go into depth about the Caesar-Octavian-Antony dynamic (and how it played out with Caligula) better than I can, and scholarship on Brutus consists mostly of looking at an outline of a man and trying to guess what the inside was like.

At the end of the day, Caesar was the instigator, active manipulator, and catalyst for the final act of the Republic.

I hope that this was at least entertaining to read!

#i cut out A Lot and its thanks to the patience of Friends that i got it down to the length that it is #like i cannot stress enough that i worked machiavelli into this and started dissecting the whole #brutus-cassius conflict with the framework that it was orchestrated by caesar #typically tho i tend to treat caesar as a symbolic device. a representation of something Very Wrong #this is a tag for asks

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 122

Annnnd WE’RE BACK!

Thank you so much for your patience during the hiatus. Work is still crazy, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel there *crosses fingers*. And I was able to build back up my cushion of chapters, so that was a huge win for me.

As a reminder, this is a skip forward roughly 4 years from chapter 121. So, if you read a bit and start to wonder “wait, did I miss something?”, you probably didn’t and it’s most likely something I am going to circle back to.  Don’t be a afraid to shoot me an ask, however, if you are just really thrown off by something! I’ll gladly clarify unless it’s something plot-specific.

Thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog.  By the way, Raven is working on a podcast of The Miys, which I am incredibly stoked about. Please follow @glimmeringfeatherspodcast for updates!

I carefully adjusted my glasses as I suppressed a giggle at Noah, who was swarmed with small yellow puffs of fuzz.  In the last seven years since their discovery, Else’s hyper-fast evolution hadn’t slowed down much, although Grey did promise that it had slowed down. Noah buzzed at the puff resting on one of its vomu, eliciting a purr. “I believe they learned this behavior from Mac.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admitted. “I caught him playing with several of them a couple days ago.”

“I have observed them together on frequent occasions.” Reaching up, it plucked another puff from the top of its head. “I cannot hear if you sit on my sensory organs, podling.”  Soon after Else evolved to the point they could live outside of a habitat tank, Miys had developed a tendency to treat them like its own young, and generally had several of them perched somewhere.

“How many of them are there now?” I asked, reaching out slightly before stopping myself from petting the closest canary-sized fluff. “Else, can I pick you up?”

In response, it bounced onto my hand.  I’d noticed how little they spoke now, but Miys had assured us it was a normal stage in hive-being evolution - once Else became too large to actually fit in our bodies, it wasn’t able to communicate through the translator chip.  At this stage, it could still hear us, but communicating back was a work in process.  Mostly, they just trilled and chirped.

“Currently, there are five hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-three.”

“They’re very adaptable,” I observed.

With the one free vomu it had, Noah made a nodding gesture. “Most species that reach sentience are. We are able to observe Else’s evolution on a much shorter time scale than most, as well. Consider humanity’s evolution, and imagine seeing it take place in years rather than over the course of millenia.”

“I know,” I laughed. “But seeing it is way more incredible than imagining it.” I adjusted my glasses again, eliciting the buzz that usually meant Noah was exasperated with me.

“Why do humans insist on using those instead of having their eyes repaired?”

“My eyes aren’t damaged,” I reminded it. “And you did repair my eyes. I’m wearing these because my eyes are working right. You know this.”

“In principle, not in practice.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Our eyes evolved to work in a specific kind of light. Earth’s sun is yellow, I think? But Von’s sun is more blue.” I gestured at the light emitters in the corridor. “When the light is in the twilight cycle like this, some humans can’t see as well as we could in Earth-twilight. Hence the glasses.”

“Sight is so inefficient.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t exactly argue. “Between the light and the gravity, it’s been a huge adjustment.”

“You have all adjusted in quite - innovative ways,” Noah replied. “My kind have done many of these relocations. Not all species adapt well.”

“What was it you called it?” I squinted, both from trying to see what was ahead of me and from thinking. I’m going to have to talk to someone about some flashlights, I swear… “We ‘persist’?”

“Humans are remarkably stubborn, yes,” it confirmed. “As Arthur Farro seems to prefer explaining it, your species began space travel by attaching chemical ignition drives to your posteriors.”

Even after so long, some things just did not translate. “Yep, we very much strapped a rocket to our asses to achieve spaceflight,” I laughed. “Everything on Earth kind of evolved and adapted like that. We learned what wouldn’t poison us by watching others die from eating it, that kind of thing. Even our superstitions, and later our laws, were basically ‘hey, let’s not do this, it kills people’.” A liw made its way into my line of sight, rocking to mimic a confused head-tilt. “You rescued us for our sight, not because we are a particularly bright species.”

“I understand that the polite thing to do, according to your customs, is to object to that statement, however I have been told on several occasions that I lack any skill in falsehoods.”

“We bombed ourselves back to the Stone Age the second we hit our highest peak in technology.” I reached out and patted what would have been a shoulder on a human. “You don’t have to lie about that. Arthur has studied an absurd percentage of human history. Even from a scholarly perspective, I am assured we are a singularly idiotic race. Besides, we’d already ruined an entire planet at that point...”

“It has evidenced itself to be a lesson well-learned.” It returned the pat, gently. “For a species historically inclined to warfare, those on the Yjq have demonstrated a profound proclivity toward peace.”

“Trying to keep it that way, bud,” I admitted.

Removing yet another puff from its sensory organs, Noah continued. “Please be assured, also, that Terrans are far from ‘singularly’ idiotic.  There are many species in the Galactic Community that are demonstrably lacking in what you refer to as ‘common sense’.”

Noah was still a terrible gossip. “Do tell,” I asked, crossing my mental fingers that we weren’t the worst out there.

“Preeyar,” it listed immediately.

“The rift-valley avians?”

“The same. They experience terrible reactions to liquid water, and yet they are fascinated by fountains and insist upon touching them!” Startled chirps erupted as all six appendages on Noah’s upper body flung out in frustration. “Any vessel transporting Preeyar has specific instructions on how to treat the resulting burns.”

I had to admit, that was pretty bad. “Terrans at least learn not to touch things that will burn us by the time we can speak, usually.” My nose tickled as several little Else-puffs migrated over to me, upset by the grand gesture from my friend.  I was almost glad it was so difficult for humans to see in the corridor, because I probably looked absurd.

“Shalt’krii are somehow just as difficult,” Noah confessed. “As a species that have what you term an ‘allergy’ to sonic waves - they develop painful rashes and can have seizures when exposed. Yet, it is entirely inevitable when transporting a large group that several will have forgotten or neglected to bring dampeners.”

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, trying not to laugh and upset Else again. “How?”

“It has eluded the Galactic Council since they joined. The dampeners are far less barbaric than what the So-K’nor do to resolve a similar concern, but I must privately admit that the So-K’nor are at least more consistent and effective.”

Well, yeah, deliberately deafening yourself permanently when you go off-world tends to be that way, I thought to myself. I knew I didn’t need to say it out loud, but I also knew that Noah would not address my thoughts out loud. “Okay, maybe we aren’t that bad,” I granted. “I think the worst we do is ingest mild poisons.”

“On an alarmingly frequent basis, yes. Including plants native to your world that actually attempt to digest you as you eat them.”

I shook my head. “Not this girl. I don’t like pineapple.”

“And the number of humans on the ship who willingly consume lactic acid, knowing it will cause them digestive distress?” If it had eyebrows, they would be arching, I just knew it.

“You have pointed out several times over the years that you can’t taste,” I pointed out. “So you have no idea how tempting cheese can be.”

Noah shook one vomu like a head. “Incorrect. Having witnessed the sheer amount of it that Tyche consumed once she realized that you were not lactose intolerant, there is empirical evidence to support your claim.”

Unconsciously, my hand jumped to touch my left ear before I could force it down. “I remember the spicy food,” I said carefully, stroking one of the fluffs on my arms. “But I didn’t know about the cheese. Come to think of it - “ I stopped in my tracks and turned to face Noah directly, “Why weren’t the consoles just adjusted to make all the food… I dunno, lactose-free, I guess?”

Two liw reached to pluck several yellow beings from my arms and head as Noah used one vomu to start ticking reasons. “One, because I was specifically asked not to by Grey Hodenson and Xiomara Kalloe, the consensus being that bovines are, in fact, in the genetic database. Two, because that was attempted several weeks before you were brought on board, and I was tempted to damage my sensory organs to block out the sheer number of complaints regarding how everything tasted.”  Thankfully, its vomu was still empty when it flung outward. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accommodate requests regarding something you do not experience?”

I felt slightly ashamed. “Not entirely, no.” Trying to lighten the mood slightly, I felt the need to point out “Besides, I really like goat cheese.”

“Something about chetter and mootsareeleh,” Noah grumbled.

“Ohhhhh,” I whispered. “Eyeah… do not mess with Italians’ mozzarella, I have learned. And cheddar does have a very specific flavor. I can see those being very loud complaints.”

“In eight Terran years, I am still confused why the color of the chetter is a determining factor, as well as how something so soft can be compared to an edged weapon.”

I felt like I was going to explode from suppressed laughter. I had to stop, tears streaming down my face, and catch my breath. “Oh, Noah… I honestly don’t know if I can explain that, but I can try…”

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#the miys #humans are weird #found family #humans baffle aliens #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #original science fiction #science fiction #sci fi #original sci fi #my writing

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ violence/ mention of blood/ SMUT/ PIV, fingering/ public sex/ slight exhibitionism

      * Summary: Ezra confronts his fears. A night out on Central does not go as planned.

      * Word Count: ~2600

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*  *Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*

PART ELEVEN

    You learned quickly that when Ezra told you he was going to try, he tried. The very next day, he asked you to take him down to the lobby. You’d attempted to protest, but a facet of his personality you were getting more acquainted with over time was the man’s stubbornness. 

    “Mama always told me I was more stubborn than a mule stuck in a mud puddle,” he’d rambled to you once.

    On this day, he said, “You know there’s no other way for me to do this except to get it done, Dove.”

    You moved to stand in front of him. You crossed your arms, head tilted to one side as you surveyed him before you. He looked determined, jaw working rhythmically. His hands hung loosely at his sides, but you noticed how he was clenching and unclenching his fists restlessly.

    “Ezra“, I don’t expect you to just waltz out of the apartment and seize the city like a lump of aurelac,” you reasoned. “I want to do this on your terms, and I don’t want you to feel in any way pressured. I feel like you think I’m expecting you to do this.”

    “Dove, you know that as decisive as I may be, one thing I am not is easily swayed or pressured. Trust that I feel no such thing from you, as it is my choice alone to foray out of this nest.”

    So, you had accompanied him cautiously onto the elevator, carefully watching and gauging his reactions to being confined within the claustrophobic reaches of the metal box you found yourselves encased in, ferrying you downward. Ezra’s tongue darted out to wet his lip nervously, you noticed his foot tapping against the carpet. You wondered if he noticed he was doing it.

    When the elevator reached its destination with a faint ping, you steeled yourself. You were ready for his impending meltdown, his shaking uncertainty, possibly his refusal to walk any further. Your eyes widened as you watched him stride determinedly out into the lobby. You trailed close behind, ready to reel him back in if he became overwhelmed. You thought that he’d pause a moment, reacquaint himself with the lobby itself before venturing further, but he strode bullishly toward where Brice was standing near the front doorway.

    “If you’ll excuse me, my good man,” Ezra muttered through the grim set of his mouth. He did not pause, he did not hesitate. He gave Brice no opportunity to hold the door open for him. He grasped the handle himself and thrust himself out onto a bustling street.

    You were right behind him, your brows drawn with concern. You reached out to grasp his hand.

   “Ezra?”

    His shoulders squared, he turned to face you. He was breathing heavily, his eyes moving in disjointed stutters as if he was trying to download and process everything at once to a file in his brain.

    “Ezra, take a deep breath.”

    His eyes finally settled on you, dark pools of intensity. He did as you asked. His shoulders dropped to their natural position. Your other hand joined your first, clasping his large hands in yours. People continued past you on their way to their lovers and jobs and homes and they parted like a sea around the both of you as his gaze held you, hypnotic and deep. His hands pulled from your grasp and he crushed himself to you, his mouth finding yours in a dizzying kiss. Breathless, desperate, the rest of the world disappeared.

    “I did it, sweet love,” he whispered against your mouth. You did not heed the noise and push of the city thrumming around you, the entire street ceased and froze as if the universe was swallowing its own stars and they reappeared, rebirthed and glittering, in the encompassing weight of Ezra’s eyes upon you.

    “All manner of things in this world are limitless and surmountable, survivable, when I have you by my side.”

 ******

     One week later you found yourself in a dive bar that ended up being approximately twenty minutes from your loft. You had worked incrementally each day, walking with Ezra as he ventured further and then a bit further. You saw his confidence begin to return. You had sat one morning at a small table on the sidewalk of a cafe, reading Keats to one another as you sipped cappuccino. Ezra made sly remarks about the goings-on of passing strangers, weaving threads of supposition according to what he thought of what they wore, how quickly they were walking, who they were with. His eyes were lively. He reminded you of the person he’d been at his table in his tent on the Green: head thrown back, joyous.

    You were finally knowing him like this.

    And so, you sat in the crowded bar, smelling the cologne and sweat and smoke enveloping you and those around you. You had felt nervous entering, a sudden impulse to look for the nearest exit slammed into you. A patron sidled past you, bumping your shoulder. You jumped, your heart hammering. You tried desperately to quell what seemed to be an oncoming panic attack- there were too many people, it was so, so loud and anyone could just reach out and grab you, slam you into-

    “Dovie.”

    Your frenzied reverie was interrupted by Ezra’s warm hand on the small of your back as he guided you to a table in a corner. His breath tickled the hair that curled around your ear as he spoke close and low.

    “Sit here, see? Your back will be against the wall. You can see everyone this way. You are safe with me, sweet one.”

    With his voice close, grounding you, you took deep unsteady breaths until you felt your heart rate begin to slow. You reassured him as the bartender approached you. You decided that alcohol may not be a bad idea, for either of you, in helping you relax. You ordered a gin and tonic with lime, Ezra requested an extra dirty vodka martini. While you waited for your drinks you took in the humid press of bodies gyrating on a makeshift dance floor, you absorbed the loose, languid movements of the inebriated patrons before you. Could you do such a thing, would you ever be capable of such abandon again in a place like this?

    Your drinks were set in front of you. Ezra reached for his and took a long sip, his eyes closing with a soft groan.

    “I cannot begin to tell you how long it’s been since I’ve imbibed such high-brow spirits in what amounts to a dusty hovel.”

    You sipped your own drink, the burn sliding down your throat blooming into warmth when it hit your belly. Your brain quickly began to feel fuzzy, your limbs loose and warm. It had been stands since you’d had anything stronger than wine. You set your glass down and turned to see Ezra staring at you, his own cheeks pinking from the effects of his drink. He leaned his head to the side, one hand reaching for your bare knee, at the same time the sudden crack of a pool cue across the room made you jump, an arm shooting out in unconscious self-defense as your hand connected with your glass. Ezra’s own hand reflexively moved to catch the glass before it could topple and shatter, but not before the contents sloshed over the edge to soak down the front of your new dress.

    “Kevva-damned. Shit….This is the first time I’ve even worn this!”

    Ezra was unperturbed, smiling gently as he squeezed your knee.

    “I’m sure it will come out in the wash, love, I’ll leave you only briefly to procure you proper cleaning implements. Do not trouble yourself.”

    You sighed, nodding gratefully. You watched as Ezra stood up and made his way to the bar. It was crowded indeed tonight, and you noted that there were quite a few people in line ahead of him. You sighed again, looking down at your front. You wrinkled your nose; you smelled like a distillery.

    Klutz.

    Lost in your thoughts, it took you a moment in your blunted state to notice that another drink was slid in front of you as the chair beside you scraped back from the table. A man sat down next to you, grinning crookedly. He leaned forward before speaking.

    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before. Sorry about the drink, I thought maybe you could use a replacement.”

    His hair was flame-colored, unnaturally so. His nose, eyebrows and ears were heavily pierced, and his arms were covered in tattoos. In another lifetime, perhaps, you may have welcomed his advances. Tonight, however, you glanced around frantically for Ezra. You felt suddenly exposed, like a lame rabbit trapped in a dog pen.

    “I…..I’m not alone, you know. I’m here with someone. So, no thank you. On the drink.”

    The man’s brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t mean….sorry. I saw you spill your drink, and then I saw your friend get up...I was getting my own drink, I figured you could use another one as well.”

    You swallowed down your panic, your hand twitching in your lap.

    If only I had a thrower.

    “You were watching me?”

    “Relax. I was just trying to be nice!”

    “What did you put in this drink, anyway? Sedative? Some kind of amatory agent?”

    “I don’t know what you-”

    The man choked on the rest of his words as he was yanked out of the chair roughly by the back of his shirt. He was slammed up against the wall, Ezra’s fingers wrapped around the man’s throat.

    “I do believe the lady would like to be left alone,” he hissed darkly, jaw clenched. His head was lowered, eyes blackened pools of rage. His voice wavered on a razor-thin edge of control. The interloping man’s eyes were wide, it appeared that he was gasping for breath as Ezra’s knuckles turned white. You noticed the knife in Ezra’s hand. You had the far away realization that he must have been keeping it in his boot, the same way he had on the Green.

     He had carried it all this time.

    Ezra brought the tip of his knife to a slot of pulsing skin between his fingertips. The blade pressed in, a bead of blood pricking forth as the man gasped. A dark spot spread on the front of the man’s pants.

    “Do you know how quickly a man bleeds out if cut in just the right way? I do, I know from experience. Do you also know how to make things last, how to prolong one’s mortal agony until they plead for the sweet embrace of oblivion? I know that too.” 

    You were monsters, you realized with a sudden, shocking clarity. You were not fit for civilization. Ezra was a hair's-breadth from murdering a stranger in a public place while you watched impassively. This is who you have become. This is what the moon had done to you.

    Without thinking, you jumped up from the table. Your hand grasped Ezra’s shoulder.

    “EZRA.” your voice was clear, sobered, authoritative. “Stop. Come back.”

    Ezra almost shook his head as he looked at his hand, holding the knife as if it belonged to someone else. He let the man go, and the man slid down the wall to crumple onto the ground.

You realized it was silent- everyone in the bar was staring.

    You grabbed onto his hand in a vise-like grip and moved to the door.

    “We’re leaving. NOW.”

    There was a sea of shocked silence that parted around you. You did not hesitate, you did not stop to take in the widened eyes, the slack jaws. You walked until you were both out in the cool air of the warm night.

    You kept your eyes forward with a tight grip on Ezra’s hand.

    Get away, you repeated in your mind like a mantra. Get away, get away, get away…

    You squeaked out a wordless exclamation when Ezra halted, pulling you backward into a narrow side alley. He spun you to face the cool brick wall, caging you with his hands and hips. He pressed up against you insistently, panting as if he’d been sprinting.

    “Ez-” your words were cut off as his lips crushed onto yours, rough and messy. His hands grasped at the hem of your dress, raking it up around your waist. He ripped your underwear down past the curve of your ass with trembling fingers. You gasped when his fingers entered you, rough and sudden.

    “Ezra, we’re in an alley, someone could walk byyyy…” your last words dissolved in a whine as he angled his fingers, expertly curled, and hit that spot inside- the place he knew you needed him most.

    Hot plosives of air against your ear, you felt fully enveloped by Ezra and completely exposed to everything else. He withdrew his fingers suddenly and frantically went to unfasten his pants.

    “I need you,” he rasped, his voice desperate and shuddering. “I need to come back to myself. Remind myself. Please. I need to know you are mine. Show me.”

    You felt the blunt head of him notched at your entrance. Grasping his cock in his fist, he spread your leaking arousal to mix with the precum dripping from his own slit before sliding into you with a single thrust. His hips met yours as you brought your fist to your mouth, biting down to keep from screaming. Ezra withdrew almost completely, still trembling, and slammed back into you. Your breasts were mashed against the rough wall, you had to use both hands to brace yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts. One of his hands went up to your mouth and covered it firmly; his other hand reached between your legs to circle your clit roughly.

    He fucked up into you with abandon, without regard for his surroundings and despite the possibility of being caught. He kept his voice low, gasping and whining as his punishing rhythm had you quickly hurtling toward your own release.

    “Mine….mine,” he groaned into your ear, slapping sounds from your desperate union echoing in the air of the alleyway. “Going to fuck you like this in every corner of Central, on every surface. Claim this pussy over and over again. Take you apart.”

    His words against your sweat-slicked skin, his hot breath, his fingers on your clit, his brutal thrusts all melded into the sin of him taking your like this, claiming you in the open. You release slammed into you, unexpected, overwhelming. You bit the inside of his hand, breaths harsh, ragged, keening. You sobbed wordlessly against him as he stilled, spilling into you as he cried out. The intensity and strength of his orgasm had rendered him incapable of remaining quiet. Your legs shook, Ezra’s arms wrapping firmly around your waist to keep you from collapsing to the dirty concrete.

    When your hammering heart had finally slowed and your breathing finally evened out, Ezra reverently helped you back to some semblance of presentability before you made your way back to your apartment, still shaky and somewhat lightheaded.

    Once back in the safety of your shared home you sighed deeply before wrapping your arms around Ezra’s waist. You knew you both had quite a bit more to work through than you’d originally thought, but Kevva knew there was no one else for you. You gazed up at him with a small, sad smile.

    “We can’t go back to that bar, Ezra.”

    “I know, Dove.”

Tags: @ifimayhaveaword @thedaysarenotfull @absurdthirst@cinewhore @hopelikethesun @yespolkadotkitty @lose-eels @lackofhonor @din-damn-djarin @mrpascals@theocatkov @thefineandnobleartofavoidance@hellojustheretolookatmeemees @cyaredindjarin @im-like-reallythirsty @mstgsmy @goldafterglow @sistahsarah-sallysaidso @givemethatgold @shaqbutt @sirianisrock@artemiseamoon @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost@f0rever15elf @opheliaelysia @qveenbvtch@hdlynnslibrary @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa@spacegayofficial @ezraslittlebirdie @ezrasarm@ezraslittleblondestreak @tintinwrites@kindablackenedsuperhero @darthadeline @alexisinorbit@knittingqueen13 @lueurnotes @xakilicious@keeper0fthestars @huliabitch @di-kut @zombieaurora@corrupt-fvcker @cryptkeepersoul @teaofpeach

#chews-erotically #chews-erotically writes #ezra prospect #Ezra #Ezra x reader

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Part Nine: Swan Song

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:

"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

...x...

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors. 

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop. 

"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment. 

"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario. 

He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed. 

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically. 

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence. 

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in. 

...

Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints. 

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier. 

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed. 

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears. 

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks. 

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker. 

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait. 

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest. 

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet. 

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone. 

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts. 

Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. 

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered. 

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards. 

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..." 

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?" 

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward? 

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?" 

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness. 

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher. 

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings. 

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie." 

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth. 

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed. 

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted. 

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."

He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck." 

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug. 

His tongue-

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out. 

That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."

"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth. 

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come. 

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath. 

"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful. 

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by. 

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?" 

"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-" 

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up. 

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever. 

Your Mandalorian.

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery. 

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong. 

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately. 

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his. 

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged. 

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you. 

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing? 

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"

Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted. 

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."

"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?" 

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered. 

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway." 

"What is it?"

"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"

"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."

"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop." 

"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?" 

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it). 

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again. 

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times. 

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. 

You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided. 

"I know, I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."

"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill. 

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time. 

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking." 

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're what." 

"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."

"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him. 

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go. 

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."

"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now." 

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know." 

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan. 

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor. 

"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait. 

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again." 

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet. 

He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din." 

"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you. 

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes. 

"How?" He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm not shy, I-I'm…" 

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I." 

"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need." 

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #at long last #the happy ending #oh they fockin #welcome! #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #I still don't know how to tag this I'm so sorry #eventual romance #eventual happy ending #star wars #you have slogged through enough #it's indulgence time bois #it's so long i'm so sorry #enjoy!

[acioo]

anybody who knows anything about me will be able to tell you i spend a bunch of my time ice skating & i’ve never seen a guide on how to write a character that figure skates , so i thought i’d compile some tips & explain things , because my whole childhood i was travelling across the country to spin on ice with nothing on but a leotard & some tights , and now i have nothing but a bunch of tacky costumes and this post to show for it . this is pretty in-depth , about 2.5k words , but if you have any questions about specific aspects or want me to clarify anything , feel free to shoot me an ask . oh & a like  or reblog if you found this helpful would be sweet ! tw : injury, mental illness, eating disorders

most people that wind up as figure skaters started ridiculously young. i was probably six, but at my rink, we train kids as young as four and five. if your character has competed professionally at a state-wide level or up, they most likely started super young and have been professionally trained. figure skating is not a sport that you can do casually, most of the time. ice skating, casually, however, totally different thing. but competitive figure skating, being on a figure skating team, and the like, it’s a lot of effort, time, and discipline. in a lot of families, it’s a tradition to teach your kids to ice skate. at my rink, there’s a lot of people who come from slavic families whose parents signed them up - or athlete parents in gen. so, if your character is SUPER GOOD, they’ve put hundreds of hours of work into it, and have years of practice. it is not something you can pick up in a day, and i’d even say you have to be at it for at least two years before you get good good, and it takes a while to even become comfortable on the ice before you can start to do any kind of trick - THAT is why they start young, so by the time we’re pre-teens, we’re really, really good. the problem happens, famously, at puberty, because your balance gets knocked off, your bones are growing, and you have to basically relearn everything you know.

there are so many different types of figure skating. i specialize in singles, but i’ve done showcase and solo dance ( but both of those skills are more for me to be a well-rounded skater, not for competing ), and would sometimes be put into pairs to help learn skills and work together. you NEED to be in one of these categories for competition because they are what all comps are based upon. singles is, as you think, one single ice skater individually doing their routine. singles will do various dances, jumps, spins, etc. i won't lie, it’s hard, and really, really competitive. singles is the most competitive of all these categories. it’s usually a short program ( jumping, spinning, steps - the easier portion of competition because it’s really just a routine that you need to get down pat so you can boost your score. you will learn to do it in your sleep. ) and then a free skate ( longer than the other, it’s more complicated and difficult ). pair skating is really, really difficult, tbh, and you need a good relationship with whoever you are doing it with because there’s a lot of trust involved. it’s hard to break into pair skating because you need a partner that you’re equal to in skill and you like as a person. you guys spend a lot of time together and you need to get along. you guys need to be equally proficient at ice skating. most pairs get put together when they’re still very young. it’s very difficult to from singles to becoming a pair skater. it’s two skaters and they skate around each other, they lift each other, and move in synchronized patterns. it’s highly technical, like all figure skating, but it is more difficult because you have to keep in mind both your own feet and someone else’s. you do NOT want to bump skates with someone. at best, that is very uncomfortable. at usual/worse, you’re both about to eat shit on ice. in pair skating the partner that lifts needs SO much strength. like, so much. i’ve tried to lift fellow skaters, who are the same weight as me, and it’s near fucking impossible for me. ice skates are HEAVY and skaters have a lot of lower body muscle. we are not light people. for example, once time my team and i were out of practice and just skating around and we started playing around and i did a cartwheel on ice and i fell very hard. wiped tf out. and that’s me, trying to handle my own weight. like singles, it’s a free skate and a short program. pair skating is typically male + female ( what a sad world, i know ), but i encourage every writer to take some suspending of reality. ice dance is, basically, dancing. it’s a lot more performative than other types of skating. it’s done in pairs, but can be performed alone, in a different category called solo dance. in the nicest way possible, singles/pair skaters usually look down a bit on ice dancers because it’s a bit less technical, and doesn’t have any jumps of lifts. but ! that doesn’t mean it’s easy because it’s not. it’s rooted in ballroom dancing and they have two parts of competition: rhythm dance and free dance. fun fact: pair ice dancers scott moir and tessa virtue, who are famous to be suspected dating, are the reason we had a no dating rule at the rink. showcase ice skating is usually for some kind of platform, or in front of a large crowd. i’ve done showcase for investors for our rink. there’s usually costumes involved ( there are costumes for all competitions, but their costumes are more, like, theatre - y ), and props, and acting. it’s actually very fun to watch, but you need acting skill. theatre on ice, however, is just what it sounds like. theatre on ice is popular with children and good for ways to show off an entire team of skaters, because you can have eight to thirty skaters on the ice. they can also compete and they can go international, but they aren’t in the olympics and there aren’t many competitions for them. it’s usually just a fun way to get together with your teammates, bond, and then show off what you did.

so, competitions. super complicated, and as a writer, i suggest really glossing over them, because it’s difficult to get it down completely right. there are nonqualifying and qualifying comps. the difference is that in qualifying competitions, you’re looking to start moving up, basically, so if you qualify in the first one, you go onto the next one, then state eventually, then national, and so on. you start with regionals ( singles ) /  sectionals ( pairs and ice dancers ). then, if you succeed, you go to sectional singles / pairs + ice dance finals. the goal is to get on the national team ( i’ve watched ameatur skaters tell other rinkmates they want to compete in the olympics - it was NOT pretty ), basically. which, let me say this. it is nowhere. near. easy. like, just go into youtube and search “ yuzuru hanyu “ ( gold medal in pyeongchang olympics for mens singles ) and watch ANY of his performances. now he’s the gold medalist, right. he started at four years old. so let’s go smaller. google elsa cheng and watch one of her routines. she’s a member of the us national figure skating team. she’s fifteen. YEAH. not an easy sport. nonqualifying is more laid back and for fun, or trophies. nonqualifying is also a way to practice before you enter into qualifying. competitions are really nerve-racking. it’ll cause stress between you and your rinkmates, because more often than not you’re going against one another. you and your coach will usually spend all the prep season creating your two programs, which you will almost always repeat in every single competition you attend. i have about 20 different routines stored in the back of my head. sometimes my coach would give us exercises of coming up with a routine during a time restraint. my friend junior learned a routine that was on yuri on ice. 

for competitions you arrive, you get ready. you’re almost always wearing some kind of elaborate costume/dress leotard thingy. this is a time to start getting mentally ready, talk to your friends, and do each other’s hair and makeup. costumes are bought way ahead of time, and are usually related to the theme of your routine. you do NOT want a wardrobe malfunction. it’ll mess you up & you’ll lose precious points. your hair will most likely always be back and, more often than not, braided or in a bun. the comp will begin and you have a practice session so that you can get warmed up and ready. it’s not long. you will get the music for your program played one by one, and you rehearse - this is usually to check to make sure your music is right & to get acclimated to the ice then you get off the ice and another group will warm up. your coach can’t be on the ice whatsoever, and has to stay outside the rink. usually, competition order is done by a random draw. one by one, you will do your routine. no one but you can be on the ice. then you go off to the “ kiss and cry “ ( because you’re either about to celebrate or get your ear chewed off by an adult in a tracksuit ) where your score gets announced. then, competition continues. your warmup + when you start is not based on how you placed in the last part of the comp ( usually started with lowest ) and you perform the second routine. then, and this is usually determined by like how serious the competition you're going to, but there are trophies handed out, a podium ceremony is held, or medals or flowers are given out. my coach would always make the team pose together after competitions and go out to eat - lots of coaches hold bonding exercises esp after comps. if we did well, we could skip our 9 am practice. if we did poorly, the team meets up at a local park and runs the three-mile trail, and then they do technical corrections at the rink. after your medal/etc ceremony, you’re done. sometimes the top people will perform, but by that time you’re usually exhausted and want to sleep for a billion years ( or, if you did really well, you want to go eat 15 ihop pancakes and conquer the world ). the competition season is from august to april. this is a BASE of what happens. it’s different at different kinds of competitions and for different categories of skating, but it’s almost always something like this. offseason is for practice, rest, and fun, basically, but if you're a serious skater, by the time you’re hitting july, you’re spending more time at the rink than at home. the most well-known and the hardest competitions to qualify for are the grand prix, europeans ( european championships ), worlds ( world championships ), and the, of course, olympics.

another aspect of almost any professional sport is injury. think about any ice skating routine you’ve seen. there is no protection. you’re wearing a thin sheer leotard. you have basically knives on your feet. it’s VERY easy to get yourself beat up by ice. the ice is very hard and not very forgiving. meaning, if you hit, you hit hard. you usually are putting a lot of force into it, too, because you’re falling. don’t even get me started on the BRUISING. you will look like you have gone thru something, all the time. ice skates, which have to sharpened routinely, are, as you imagine, SHARP AS FUCK. knife shoes. i’ve been recreationally skating, because i work at a rink, and just monitoring the skaters and usually messing around with my rinkmates, and i fell, and i sliced open my thigh. i didn’t need stitches, or anything, but there was blood everywhere. very gross. ( ask abt this answered here ! ) and i wasn’t even doing anything particularly hard. and this has happened before. they WILL cut you. ankle injuries are super common. i’ve seen someone break their ankle feet away from me. i’ve twisted my left ankle five times. as for dislocations, they also happen a lot. when i was twelve, i was at the top of my figure skating career. i was qualifying to competition after competition. during a regular, normal practice, i was doing a jump i had usually aced, and i landed the wrong way and i dislocated my knee and blacked out. it’s a very disgusting injury and extremely, extremely painful. like, a good 50k in hospital bills for the surgery to fix it. i was very good and it was my favorite activity on the planet, but it was so awful that i quit. when i was fourteen, i started skating again, joined my team, etc, etc, but it was very difficult to recover from. and that’s a very common story. most people get injured and they have to stop. i know a girl who got a bunch of concussions, and wasn’t able to skate. i’ve been concussed on the ice. people tear their acls or their hip. we have a sports medic at all figure skating practices and comps. and a lot of injuries, once you hurt something, you will hurt it again because you made it weak. we are all very flexible but overuse will make your bones brittle. there’s also stress fractures and different things you can get from just overworking your muscles. shin splints, tendonitis, jumpers knee, etc. you name an overuse injury, and i’ve had it. i was one so exhausted after practice that i laid down on the ice and cried until my coach ( who i love very dearly ) gave me a bag of skittles and told me to suck it up. that’s not saying my coach is a bitch ( john mulaney vc my coach is a bitch and i like her so much ), that’s to say there is no break, no stopping. you get better, and move on, or you quit.

as-is with basically any competitive sport, if you get serious, you will probably go onto some sort of diet along with it. you want to be eating a lot of nutritional stuff ( granola bars are HOARDED in my locker room & to this day i gag at the sight of protein shakes ), anything with a lot of calcium ( because we do be breaking bones ! ), and iron. i used to eat pasta before comps ( like wayyy before not an hr or anything ) because it gives you ~energy~. you need to be eating a lot because you’re exercising a lot. gatorade is banned by my coach because it's so much sugar. you need to drink so. much. water. we all take a bunch of vitamins. usually will eat chicken / meat in general. but keep in mind, like any sport in which you are cutting things from your diet / eating specific things / etc, it can easily lead to an unhealthy relationship with food. there’s a lot of shitty mindsets you will encounter with coaches and fellow competitors about what weight a figure skater should be, and it's even worse in pair skating ( because of lifts ). when i was eleven, one of my old coaches told me that she hoped i never hit puberty because it’d fuck up my balance & when i did i cried. a fellow competitor once told me she wished she had my “ figure skater “ body ( and at this point of my life, i had very unhealthy eating habits ). another time a group of older kids made fun of how gangly i was while i was in earshot. the amt of times my coach has SCREAMED at ice skaters for making fun of / putting down fellow ice skaters is astronomical. it’s rough. a lot of figure skaters have opened up about how figure skating caused / contributed to their mental illness. it’s very easy to fall into because of how “ perfect “ you need to be. you can look up various figure skaters stories on this: adam rippon, gracie gold, and yulia vyacheslavovna - a very famous one as it was part of the reason her career ended & she was the youngest ever skating gold medalist. and i will say, personally, my unhealthy relationship with food ( that would eventually lead to lots o problems & i still feel the impact of today ) began when i was figure skating. there are other risk factors for mental illness as well because there’s so much focus on winning / losing. more than once, competitions would give me panic attacks because of the great stress.

another thing is MONEY. as fucked up as it is, you need money, or a grant, if you want to get good. you need expensive skates, costumes, travel fees, and more. my pro figure skates, not my casual ones, cost upwards of 300, and that’s low balling it. when i was ten, my parents spent upwards of 10k on figure skating. there are rink fees, there are competition fees, there are coaching fees. it adds up extremely quickly. i know a lot of skaters who stopped competing because it was just too expensive. i work for my rink by teaching classes and monitoring open skates and additional things, but if i added up every single dollar i ever made, it would be nowhere near enough to pay for everything. but the thing is, if you get really good, you can make money off of competitions, but getting there is the hard part. at one point in my life, my parents were paying $100 an hour for my private coach who i was seeing multiple days a week. figure skaters also oftentimes will take additional classes to help. my coach made the entire junior team take ballet one year. i took a ton of gymnastic classes as well to help with skating.

so, who are the kind of people that ARE figure skaters ? what do we act like ? there’s a lot of stereotypes that figure skaters are cold people. that’s not necessarily true. i would say that we are extremely competitive people. i’ve seen rinkmates get into full-blown fights during competitions. one of my best friends, who i met at my rink once i returned from my hiatus, HATED me because she knew i was competition. we are on-edge.  stakes are high and the pressure is on. a lot of us are very perfectionistic because you sort of got to be to get to our level. we can have control issues and we can become easily frustrated if we flop jumps or keep stuttering coming out of a spin. the other stereotype is that we are super delicate little flowers. probably because of the way we have to move. realistically, we’re a tactile bunch of people who would probably wind up hurting someone if we played hockey. ( another stereotype : figure skaters and hockey kids. the closest i’ve gotten to a hockey player is the one time i threatened to quick him in the nads because they came early and insisted we get off the rink. ) we all love skating and have a lot of fun while doing it. it’s dangerous, and that’s part of the thrill. speeding around the rink at extremely high speeds is, honestly, exhilirating. we love our sport and, though we can get on each other's nerves, love our rinkmates. it’s not easy, but it’s our favorite thing to do.

#writing guide #character guide #sport guide #rph #rpt #i wrote this in a shakespearean fury #can u tell i miss my rink : ( #i should be doing finals ! #ch: axel mendoza