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no-droids · 1 year

Text

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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ninaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 26 days

Text

I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ! 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘀𝗳

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: mentions of death/ loss, ilnesses, crying, fluff i guess?, angst.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆:Charles has always seen you as his litte brother’s annoying best friend. What happens when you both grow up and he starts realizing things too late..

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿: the plot is of based off of Gracie Abrams’. song, I miss you, I’m sorry. It may be off but use your creativity. I don’t see the song as two exes missing each other in this story. I used it bc the lyrics are definitely relevant to multiple situations. Might be a multi chap, but i’ll try to keep it short for my own sanity.

enjoy!

———————

From the innocent age of three years old, Y/n and Arthur have been attached at the hip.

Literally.

When they started first grade, they were put in two different classes. Clearly very upset with it, they forced the eldest Leclerc sibling, Lorenzo, to super glue their pants together. They walked , or tripped, into the school grounds the next day, smiling proudly at each other and their questioning teachers.

Their mothers obviously thought it was adorable and played along. Thought the bond was beautiful and a gift. That said bond never died. The little things keeping it alive.

Like how Arthur would tell Y/n how smart she was every time she helped him with a math question.

Or how Y/n would always tell Arthur that he’d be a World Champion when he’d discovered that just like his older brother, took an intrest in racing.

Arthur would help Y/n tie her shoes and Y/n would fix Arthur’s hair before he went to talk to a girl.

Y/n would stay up late in a cold and busy garage waiting for Arthur to finish doing laps around the track, being proud of his result and effort, not actually caring where he ended up.

Arthur would sit with a crying Y/n, comforting her when her anxiety got the best of her. Her choice in men not helping, but he’d never blame or judge her for it.

Arthur was always there for Y/n to lean on and Y/n the same for Arthur.

And for a while their mothers schemed, waiting for the moment they got together.

That suspicion changed completely when the pair were four teen years old. It completely vanished that one day in April when Y/n’ s mother died. Sat in the hospital with tears in her blue eyes, Y/n takes in the news of her mother’s passing due to leukemia. Arthur, almost as broken as the girl next to him, took her in his arms as they both sobbed.

Pascal, although absolutely crushed, observed the two. No eye contact, no tight grip, just two people leaning on each other for support.

When the little girl’s name got called, she looked up with big eyes. Pascal watched as the brunette girl was taken into her other son’s arms. She payed attention to the way Y/n gripped onto Charles’ sweater and neck, or the way she looked up from her head’s position on his chest to look into his eyes.

And when they were walking back through the white hallways to the car, and Arthur said “You’ll always be my best friend Y/n, I might have a girlfriend, but i’ll never leave you.” Pascal got her confirmation that the two kids weren’t in love, well at least not with each other..

Arthur had his middle school girlfriend and Y/n had.. well, a crush on Charles. The middle Leclerc.

A big crush.

The crush blossomed, just like Arthur and Y/n’s friendship, from the small things.

The way Charles would only throw Y/n with a piece of food at the dinner table and nobody else. It was probably just him making fun of the one person who wouldn’t stand up for themself, but 10 year old Y/n obviously saw it as Charles’ way of showing his affection.

Years down the line she would still smile over the way Charles would hear Y/n crying to Arthur and then ask her if she needed anything the second she came into his view.

The way Y/n’s stomach would fill with butterflies as Charles smiled at her from the podium.

He would buy her, her favorite candy when they go on trips, knowing her blood sugar gets low quickly.

They would fight about the dumbest things, but then Y/n would try to flirt with him ten seconds later.

He would stay awake at night, waiting for Arthur and Y/n to come home after going to a party, his excuse always being that he was waiting to show Arthur something, that he didn’t know that the girl would be with him, but he knew. He always did.

Despite all of it, Charles wasn’t interested. Amused and slightly more egotistical? Yeah, sure. But teenage Charles definitely thought he was too old for the girl and in all honesty too cool.

As they got older and Y/n got more confident, she started to try connecting with Charles, never succeeding, as she got the same excuse every time. “I’m too old for you.”

And maybe he was, she was 16 and he was about to turn 19. His other excuse was that he was very busy with racing. Driving in Formula 2 and trying to get to Formula 1.

Despite it, Charles owned her heart through it all, he even broke it a few times.

—

It was a beautiful day in Monaco and Arthur had invited Y/n to join the Leclerc family on the ocean, sailing across the clear waters with their boat.

Arthur brought his new girlfriend, and Y/n thought they were perfect for each other, actually being the one to set them up.

Sitting at the very edge at the front of the boat, looking at the sun setting.

Pascal watched as her middle child left the steering wheel, calling Lorenzo from the deck to take over.

She watches with intent as he takes off his hoodie and walks to the girl she would call her own and sit next to her.

The woman could see Y/n scoff at his offer, but ultimately agree to taking the piece of clothing.

“How are you?” Y/n asks him, looking at the sunset.

“Good, finally signed the contract, now I just have to follow through with it.”

“Can’t believe you’re going to be in Formula 1 next year.” you almost scoff in disbelief at it all.

“You’ve made it, Charlie.”

He looks at her with that sentence, staring deeply into her eyes. The eyes he’s looked into so many times, each time they’re just as pretty.

He turns his head again, both of them sit in silence, their presence speaking for its self.

“You miss her?” Charles asks, breaking the silence with a question that caused a chill to grow up Y/n’s spine.

“Ever day.” She simply replied.

She turned her head slightly, to be met with Charles staring at her deeply.

Y/n laid her head on his shoulder, sighing out.

“I’m too old for you, you know and with my career taking off.. it’s never going to happen, Y/n.”

“Whatever you say, Charlie. We’ll see.”

“I’m being serious.” He takes a brief pause, stuttering like he’s trying to come up with an excuse after being caught doing something wrong. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Arthur would kill me.”

“Hm, he would, wouldn’t he?” Y/n smiles at the thought of her best friend.

Back to Formula one though..

When he got his seat with Alpha Romeo, the whole family was ecstatic. Everyone celebrating, despite finding out the tragic news that Hervé, the boys’ dad was once again ill.

A year later Charles joined Alpha Romeo, as a rookie for the 2017 season. Nearing the Baku Grand Prix, Y/n got woken up by banging on her bedroom door. Outside the door was a frantic looking Arthur, and by the tears welling up in his eyes, Y/n knew the inevitable had came. She comforted Arthur on the way to the hospital, her heart breaking for the boy. Once he calmed down and fell asleep on her shoulder, her dad driving, her head started racing. The only thing going through her mind being if Charles was okay.

When Charles heard the brunette girls’ choked up words to his mother he quickly turned around, once again in the hospital hallway, and immediately met her gaze.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry.” she said, her arms around his neck, his face buried into her hair. For some reason the second she was near he let it all out. All of the frustration, the sadness, the anger and the utter and deep rooted pain.

They went home, the girl joining. As everyone went to bed, Y/n insisted on falling asleep to the tv playing, as she didn’t like the silence filling up her mind. Leaving her space to think about Hervé or how Charles’ arm felt around her waist.

She tried to suppress her feelings day by day. But the second he looked at her with his beautiful eyes or smiled at her she crumbled and fell for her best friends brother all over again.

And just as she was about to fall asleep and stop thinking about him, he walks down the stairs, a suit case in his hand and a tired expression on his face. It could be because of the lack of sleep or the emotional drainage today has caused.

“You really going to get on a plane right now?” she question at his sanity. “Have to.” He replies bluntly. “At four in the morning?” Y/n question once again, a little softer, feeling sympathy for the, very clearly traumatized and exhausted boy in-front of her. “I’m a bit early, couldn’t sleep.” he sighs, falling onto the couch next to her, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, the left one resting on the couch behind her.

“Are you okay?” Y/n brakes the short silence, looking intently at him.

It was silent for about two minutes. That’s what the clock on the wall said. It felt like two hours.

“I have to be. Can’t afford to be distracted.”

“Charles, your father died, you’re allowed to be sad.” the girl said, shocked at his lack of emotion.

“It’s easier for everyone if i’m not, I had a good cry. Now I have to look after Mama’n.”

The brunette girl looks at him, slightly confused why it’s his job to look after his mother when he’s not the oldest, nor the only child.

He sighs once again, looking straight forward at the clock om the wall. “Lorenzo is married and expecting and Arthur’s not only focusing on his racing and getting to F2, but he’s also falling in love, you can hear it in the way the idiot talks about her.” Charles chuckles, slightly annoyed but happy for his brothers and their success. Oh, and how it made you love him even more.

“You deserve love too, Charlie.” Y/n says, looking intently at his reaction form her view of his side profile.

He looks at her. His gaze narrowed slightly and he shook his head as Y/n placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m serious, you deserve that support, you deserve to feel excited about seeing someone, you deserve to be comforted and happy and to have fun. You just have to let it in..” Y/n says, hinting at Charles that she was there, waiting for him.

He looks at her again, realizing immediately that they are very much closer than they were a few seconds ago.

“Y/n..” Charles says, looking down at her lips. He was tempted, very tempted. He was confused and sad and saw Y/n as a good distraction. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Y/n tried to make eye contact, but it was impossible when all he could look at was her lips.

So she did the next thing she could think of. She leaned in. Their lips brushed together, she hesitates as Charles looked like he wanted to say something more. “Y/n.. I” Still as close as they were, Y/n’s heart beat out of her chest, so loud she was convinced Charles could hear it. This was the moment she’s been waiting for. She’s been in love with Charles for more than half her life. The thought of him finally feeling the same made her head hurt and her mouth run dry.

“I can’t.”

Two words, those two words she knew she would remember forever, she does to this day, it’s stored in the old and dusty box in the corner of her mind marked with the initials C. L on it.

The next sentence she tried to solve for years and years, that was until she watched drive to survive, and although she got some clarity, it opened the cardboard box in the back of her mind and knocked it over, all the memories spilling out of the box and filling her mind. At that moment she would’ve chosen the silence over the taunting reminder of the childhood and teenage years spent with Charles Leclerc that kept her up that whole night.

One sentence and his closed off mannerism after that, that haunted her conscience, that house and made it so much harder to get over the Monegasque.

“I promised him, I’m sorry.”

Y/n watched the Monegasque take off with tears in her eyes and more than one crack in her heart.

“He’ll come around Y/n, give it the summer.” Said her best friend from the stairs. He sighs, rubbing over his face with a hand. Once again comforting his best friend over a guy treating her like shit. Only this time, he knew she wouldn’t be okay in the morning. He knew it would take a little time for Y/n to get over this one. He knew she’d still love Charles, no matter how good or bad they were to each other.

———————

Now many years later, Y/n is once again supposed to be with the Leclerc’s on a boat. Charles’ boat to be specific. She hasn’t talked, called or seen him since he left that morning, right after completely rejecting the girl.

Charles was excited.

You could even say he’s been waiting for this moment since he saw her skiing with her friends in December three years ago. Because the truth was, he has.

Charles would be lying right out of his ass if he said he didn’t miss his brother’s bestest of friends. She and Arthur were still extremely close, despite hearing that she took off for a few months after that night in the living room.

It’s been three and a half years since that, and Charles has regretted it ever since. He gets sick to his stomach thinking about it, thinking about hurting Y/n. Because deep down he cared more for her that he would admit.

It did make him focus more on racing. He put his all into it, trying to numb the pain of losing two people at the same time. He has then since signed for Ferarri and waited for the girls call. When it didn’t come he was disappointed to say the least, but understood her view. When drive to survive came out and explained how he promised his father that he got the seat to Ferarri, he thought the girl would understand his need to focus on only that, but when his phone never rang and he never heard her voice he knew she was gone, she was done chasing him. And that hurt him more than leaving in the first place, because he knew everything he knows would bring him back to them.

Bring him back to their arguments. To their laughs, their crys, screams, emotions.

Everything would bring him back to her.

“Y/n?” Charles hesitantly said through his phone, after practically tackling Arthur to get her new number.

“Charles. H-how did you get my number?” Y/n stutters, immediately knowing who’s voice it was through the phone. I mean, how would she not. She’s spent so much of her life imagining that voice utter three little words to her. Three words that didn’t break her heart but instead healed it. But she was older now, and those fantasies weren’t forgotten, but stored very much in the back of her mind in the infamous cardboard box.

“Uh, kind of fought my brother for it.” Charles muttered shamefully.

“Oh, uhm okay. Can I ask why?”

“I miss you, Y/n.” Charles replied almost immediately. Desperate for the girl’s attention.

“Charles.. I-.” She was cut off quickly. “Why aren’t you here? You said you’d be here. Maman is going insane with all the men, she needs you here.” Charles tries to convince her.

“I don’t know, Charles. It’s been a while.” Charles sighs at the absence of his nickname. “So come and we can catch up.” he continues.

“Please.”

It’s silent for a few seconds. It felt like minutes.

“Okay.” is the only thing Y/n says before hanging up. Charles still wanted to talk to her but he figured he could do that when she gets here.

“She’s coming !” Charles yells out to his family as he walks back up to them, sitting himself down on the white couch next to Lorenzo and across from the youngest Leclerc.

Pascal was obviously very happy, Lorenzo giving them all a surprised look. But Arthur, Arthur wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

“She’s not seventeen anymore, Charles. She doesn’t have a little crush on you anymore.” Arthur immediately shuts any wrong intentions down, not liking that Y/n agreed to come because his brother, who hurt her, asked her to.

“I know Arth. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried you idiot, but you should be if you even think about making a move on her or something.”

Arthur stands up and walks away, completely unappeased with this whole thing. Lorenzo follows.

“ He’s just looking out for his bestfriend, Cherie.” His mother reasons with a angry looking Charles. “I know, i’m just offended he’d think I would hurt her again, now that i’m older and more stable.”

“You still love her?” Pascal questions.

“What?” Charles looks so confused, you could’ve sworn he just saw a flying goat. “Ma cherie, you’re a very stubborn person, but you aren’t stupid.”

Charles stares at his mother, shocked at how well the woman knew him.

“Yes I do still love her.” Charles says, looking down at his feet, deflated by the fact that he couldn’t do anything about his feelings, knowing his brother would resent him and Y/n definitely didn’t trust or care for him anymore.

“I’m sorry, Charles.” Pascal says, standing up to go get another drink, kissing her son’s forehead on her way out.

•••••••••••••••••••••

𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟭.

this is taking lot longer that I expected..

#charles #charles lecrelc #formula 1 #smut #art #fanfic #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #part 1

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multifariousqueer · 10 months

Text

Miles G x Done! Reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea to finish this so this is gonna be the last part of this story. Once again, requests are closed but nice comments are appreciated 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Warnings: Yandere behavior, arguing, strong language, Stockholm syndrome, mentions of starvation and your circulation being cut off(very brief at the end), kidnapping, toxic behavior, violence, mentions of blood and bruises, lmk if I missed one

You felt a strong pair of arms grip your being as you struggled for freedom. Every thought you had somehow left your mind and new thoughts took their place, most of them being about how you were gonna get out of this when suddenly, everything was dark and you heard a familiar voice:

“You thought you could escape me Mami?”

~~~

When you awoke, you were in a cold room that felt almost sterile yet it felt like someone had tried to make it homey. A punching bad stood in the corner and it seemed you were in a wear house.

You dawned a leg chain as if you were an animal and you were wearing an outfit that had been long abandoned. Your hair felt puffier and you realized it was in the style you had when you left him(or so you thought).

The lights flickered on as you grimaced and the sound of fluorescent lighting buzzing and filling your ear and you attempted to shield your face in a last stitch effort to give yourself comfort in such an uncomfortable environment. His figure stalked through the door slowly as he glared at you. He was wearing his usual Prowler attire while dawning the same necklace you two had as a symbol of your long forgotten love.

Miles stalked closer as you tried to shuffle away knowing what was to come. Tears slipped down your cheeks as he put his hand on your cheek and wiped the tears away.

“Hola, mi amor. I understand these aren’t the best circumstances for us to reconcile but it still serves its purpose” he said

“Fuck you you insane bastard” you said lowly

“Such strong language for someone in such a weak position” he smirked

“What do you want?” You questioned

“You. It’s always been you”

“Why do you want me after all this time? I’ve changed I’m not the same anymore, Miles” you tried to convince him

“Just because you move to a new state which wasn’t far enough cuz I was still able to get you, and change your fits and hair doesn’t mean you’re any different, y/n. I get it, I haven’t been the most attentive or even the best boyfriend but I’m still yours and you’re still mine.”

“That’s not true. You hid being the prowler from me, you isolated me from my family, friends, everyone that cared about me” you said

“Because I love you, Y/n. When will you understand that? You wanted me so badly and now you have me.” He smirked crouching to your level

“I wanted you before I knew how much of a wackjob you were” you said, trying to scoot away from this monster

“Did you really just say ‘wackjob’ ma?” He laughed like it was Kevin Heart in front of him

“YES I DID BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOURE ARE!!” You screamed. Miles didn’t even flinch and instead just smiled

“Mama I’m not a ‘wackjob’ I’m your man and no amount of shitty hair dye and new clothes can change that” he said

“I hate you Miles Morales” You cried

“You’ll grow to love me just as you once did, Y/n. Just give it time” he said before getting up and leaving

“Oh and Ma?” He asked but you didn’t answer

“I left you some sopa de pollo because I know how tired you must be. And if it’s not gone by the morning, I’ll make you eat it in front of me and” he said before leaving one fluorescent light on and leaving the room. Leaving you with chicken soup and in tears.

The next day he uphold his promise and made you eat by forcing you to swallow it and spoon feeding you:

“I’ll feed you every meal, Chiquita if that’s what it’ll take for you to love me again” Miles said

“It’s gonna be a lot of meals before that happens” you joked

Miles smiled as he saw a sliver of your personality shined through. He always adored your humor and your wit and took this as a sign you’d be back to normal within no time.

The next three weeks we’re both grueling and miserable yet somewhat Euphoric. Starving wasn’t an option since he would spoon feed you(which you started eating yourself) and neither was hoping your circulation would cut off because he padded the leg cuff. Although lately, he would give you “breaks” which meant he let you walk around the warehouse a bit. You started joking more and being more open and Miles couldn’t be happier.

He started staying with you longer and cuddling with you now that trust was built up again and he felt like you were back to how you were before. He adored you and would do anything for you. If you had a cold, he would get you meds and nurse you back to health; if you had a food craving, he would get it in a heartbeat. It even got to the point of you taking care of Miles yourself.

Sometimes he would come in with cuts and bruises and you would gently nurse him back to health and clean his cuts with the little first aid kit he gave you. It felt so weird to be falling for him again and suddenly you felt like the first time you met him. It took months to crack his shell but once you did, it was over for you.

Perhaps it was the Stockholm Syndrome, maybe the lighting or maybe the fact that he went this far to care for you that made you start to love him once more.

~~~

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its-elioo · 2 months

Text

A/n: Wanted to write a one-shot about one of Celine and Dogday's bonding moments.

Story occurs after he was saved and she put his body all back together.

Idk if Dogday is a little bit ooc here but I tried my best.

Probably missed some grammar mistakes.

Their relationship is completely platonic.

Slight mentions of trauma.

Hurt/comfort

Sun and cloud duo 🌤️

»»------------- ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ -------------««

While the girl placed several fluffy pillows and thick blankets on the floor, her most loyal and newest friend Dogday watched closely from behind in a kneeled position. In the meantime, Kissy Missy and Poppy scurried around the factory, searching for any additional soft materials to enhance their sleeping spot. As the human kept on making a giant comfortable bed, Dogday spoke out of the blue, “You know… I never really got your actual name, Angel.”

She smirked, “I thought the nickname you gave me was going to be my official one from now on.” Dogday glanced away in embarrassment and the female slightly patted his arm to reassure him, “Hey, it’s alright, I like it. It’s sweet.” she replied with a soft smile which caused the tall canine to turn his face towards her again, ears perking up by her gentle tone, “But to answer your question-“ she continued and kept on arranging the pillows, “It’s Ci, short for Celine.” he tilted his head at her in wonder as he listened, “I prefer the nickname more because it’s easier and sounds less formal but… It doesn’t matter to me what you decide to call me.”

The mascot dog stared at the ground for a minute, as if he was in deep thought, his tail wagged back and forth when he repeated her name in a whisper, “Celine…”

All of a sudden, he let out a low chuckle. The human rolled her eyes at him, “Oh, c’mon. It’s not that bad.”

“No, no…” the smiling critter replied, waving his paws, “It’s just- it makes so much sense now.”

Celine raised her eyebrow in confusion, “I don’t follow, big guy.”

“Heavenly.” he spoke, “That’s what it means…” the girl was looking at him in surprise due to the information she just received. She never realized the significance of her name until now. Dogday responded with a warmer voice, ”Guess you really are an Angel that has come from above to save us.”

She shook her head and her lips faintly curved up, “Nah, just a regular human. But thanks for the compliment.” when she made the final touches, she lifted herself and wiped her hands, “Alright, think it’s finally done. Care to try it out first?” she directed to the puddle of softness on the floor and the giant orange dog gladly accepted the offer. He made a big stretch and moved to it on all fours. As he observed it and walked in a circle, he finally settled down, “So? What do you think?” she asked out of curiosity.

“I must admit… it is very comfortable.” he replied softly and sighed, he definitely looked more relaxed, “Thank you, Angel. You didn’t have to.”

Celine shook her finger, “Ah, ah, ah. None of that.” she took one of the blankets, “You really thought I’m going to let you sleep on the cold ground? Not a chance.” afterwards, she put it on top of him and reached out a tentative hand to scratch him behind the ear, feeling the softness of his fur under her fingertips, “Take a rest, D.D. You need it.”

After being treated so cruelly by the feline he once called his best friend, he never expected someone to show him such kindness and compassion. He melted into her touch, feeling comforted and safe for the first time in a long while.

To Dogday’s surprise, his savior got up and headed towards the doorway, the canine immediately lifted his head and ears, “Wh-Where are you going?” he questioned apprehensively, near to the point of letting out his pleading whine for her to stay.

“I will keep on watch for Catnap.” she said and put her hand on the handle, but before she could open it-

“The whole time…?” he asked with a mix of confusion and desperation, grabbing her attention again. A wave of panic and loneliness washed over him. He wanted to run after her, to beg her not to leave him alone, a huge sense of abandonment weighed heavily on his heart, mind racing with doubts and fears. What if she didn't come back? What if something happened to her out there?

She shifted her gaze towards him, “Well, one of us has to stay alerted.” the poor dog stared at her with a pair of sorrowful pitch-black eyes, tail thumping against the tile floor, eagerly yearning for her attention with its mournful expression.

The smiling critter thought for a moment until an idea popped into his mind, “I-I can listen for him while we are both asleep.” he suggested timidly, hoping his offer would be considered.

Celine crossed her hands with a hint of skepticism evident on her face, “You can do that?”

“It’s a small ability we dogs have.” Dogday admitted sheepishly, “Don’t worry, I will wake you up the second I hear someone approaching. Besides, you need rest as much as I do.” his human companion hummed back and wondered about his proposal.

Muttering under her breath, she rubbed the back of her neck and glanced away, “It has been some time since I took a proper break…” a desire for relaxation and peace seemed to envelop her, the weight of exhaustion settling on her shoulders. After a few seconds, she sighed in defeat, “Okay then, I’m counting on you.” the canine’s tail began to sway in joyful anticipation, scooting away to give some space as she made her way over. Dogday laid his head on his big paws while watching with a tender gaze how she was getting comfortable closely beside him. Celine rested her head on one of the plush cushions and let out a weary exhale, “Can’t believe I fell for the puppy eyes again…” she playfully remarked and rubbed her temple, the large pooch chuckled slightly at her comment, “You wanted a cuddle buddy, didn’t you?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe…” he murmured in embarrassment.

She laughed and gently caressed his paw, “Just don’t let me sleep for too long, okay?”

“Of course.” he responded with a gentle nod, his action a silent vow, “You have my word.” once affirming with sincerity, she nestled her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, embracing the familiar warmth and sweet vanilla scent emanating from the mascot's body.

As Dogday stared at her for a minute, protective instincts stirred deep within him. Very slowly and cautiously, he lifted one of his paws and wrapped it around her in a shielding gesture, “Sweet dreams, little Angel.” whether it was his imagination or not, he was the only one who could see the shimmering halo hovering above her head and the feathery white wings resting on her back.

A profound bond existed between them – he, her devoted guard dog, and she, his cherished angel, forever intertwined in a unique and heartfelt connection.

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#dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime oc #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #oc #original character #oneshot #alternate universe #au #poppy playtime au

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syndxlla · 9 months

Text

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward, and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. takes place between BOTW and TOTK.

Unedited

chapter four: I’m better than ever

Read chapter three here

My masterlist

Song: Landscape with a Fairy by aspidistrafly

Summary: Link and Zelda start to get back on their feet, local problems in Hateno Village start to arise.

Warnings: PTSD, dealing with trauma

Word Count: 3.3k

Authors Note: sorry this took me so long to update! This is unedited so pls be kind haha. I love you all! Also I’m working on getting this uploaded to Ao3!

A few days go by, and Zelda finally starts to feel like herself again. After three days of laying in bed, drinking broth that Link makes for her, and falling into deep, dreary sleeps, she can finally get herself out of bed.

She walks downstairs, not feeling dizzy or nauseous, to find Link passed out against the table. His mouth is slack, and the smallest amount of drool dribbles out onto the cracked wood. His eyelashes are long and thick, and he has an old scar through one of his eyebrows, causing a clean-cut line of no hair. He looks so gentle when he sleeps, soft and peaceful. You would never guess he was the threat he was.

Zelda knew how badly he needed to sleep, he had spent days restless over her. She knew he got some rest here and there, but never enough to really help. She notices his shoulder shake, he isn’t wearing a shirt. She swears he never does at home. It was cold, despite it nearing summertime. Zelda goes to grab one of the wool blankets he keeps on a bench against the wall. Before she carefully drapes it around his shoulders, she examines the scars on his back. It’s littered with cuts and bruises. Some had healed well, and were only suggesting an injury. Others were a pale shade of tissue, some were still red and pink. One even still had his make-do stitches in it. She wondered who did them for him, and what battle caused the injury. Link still had bruises on his side and bicep from the fight with the calamity. They were starting to turn a jaundiced yellow and green, his body slowly healing them. Zelda’s stomach turns at the memories of the beast.

She shakes her head and sighs, placing the blanket over his bare skin and positioning it over his shoulders. Link stirs and his breathing shifts, he closes his mouth, swallowing before continuing his dreams. His hair is out of his hair tie, and it lies loose around his shoulders and face.

His face and look is so alluring, there's something about him that’s so comforting. She could sit with him all day, just with him as he slept, knowing that she’s safe.

She uses the washroom, taking her hair out of the old braid and letting the soft waves fall over her shoulders and cascade down her back. A pit churns in her stomach as she looks at her long hair. Her hair was always a part of her identity. Something she never cut, never damaged. It was beautiful, even after the years of divine wear and tear on it. She never had a choice with her hair. She didn’t get to make hardly any choices for herself. He runs her hands through her hair, sometimes she wished she could just rip it all out. Have a fresh slate.

She changes her clothes after searching for something fresh to wear, she would eventually need some of her own clothes. Zelda does all of this being as quiet as she can be. She doesn’t want to wake the sleeping hero at any cost. She finds an old pair of green pants that hit her at the knees, they’re comfortable, but tight to her skin. She finds the matching blue tank top that goes with it, and pulls it over her head. It feels nice to have some clean clothes on. When Link wakes up, she’ll ask if there’s a clothing store nearby.

The princess starts on breakfast, pulling some bird eggs from the cool inventory and a bit of goat butter. She has no idea what she’s doing, and very quickly realizes that she’s burning the eggs. In a panic, Zelda attempts to fix her mess, but somehow makes it worse. She quietly swears and before she knows it, Link is standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her body and replacing her grip on the skillet with his own calloused hands.

He engulfs himself around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he pulls the burnt egg away from her. Her heart flutters, skipping a beat. She wonders how he was able to do an act that was so simple, so domestic. Did he think about it the same way she did? She felt safer and warmer in his embrace, wanting to linger there forever, feeling his bare chest against her back, but it's over all too soon. He steps away and fixes her mistake.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Zelda sighs. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothings wrong with you.” Link assures, “Open the windows.” He nods to the glass. Zelda goes to push them open, and they must not have been opened in years because they creak open with a tired groan and dust falls from the frames. Her breaths are quickly followed by coughs after the fact, and she scrunches her nose.

Almost immediately, Link is making a perfect omelet, and it smells wonderful.

“How do you do that?”

“Years of practice.” He smiles. “Grab some plates.” She follows his request again, his voice is still gruff and gravely from his sleep. Zelda places the plates on the table, facing across from each other. Link carries the pan over to the plates, cutting the omelet in half with his spoon and then placing each half on the plates, being sure to give Zelda the bigger piece. Zelda sits after thanking him, and instead of Link sitting across from her, he drags the plate for himself across the table to be next to hers, taking his place right next to her on the bench, legs pressing up against one another. Zelda begs her thoughts not to be too ambitious.

They eat mostly in silence.

“Is there a clothing store nearby?”

Link nods, “Yup, two of ‘em actually.” He looks at her, his eyes still sleepy, “I can go get you some if you like.”

“I would like to go with you, if that’s alright.” Zelda nods.

“Are you feeling well enough?” He asks.

“Mhm,” She hums, “I would really like to get out of this house.”

“What, you don’t like my house?” Link asks, pretending to be hurt.

Zelda giggles, chiding him, “I love your house.” She sighs, those words came so easily. The word ‘love’ lingers in her mind. “Will you teach me how to cook?”

Link laughs, “Oh no you can’t fix that.” He teases her in reference to her antics this morning. She frowns, unamused, and he sighs, “I’ll teach you, but in return I want you to teach me something, too.”

“Anything.” Zelda smiles.

“Teach me how to be brave. Like you.” He asks after a beat.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it… and I’m terrified. All the time I am.” He swallows, scared to open up like this, proving his own point. He glances at the princess who stares at him with her beautiful, green eyes which inspires him to keep going, “I know I’m the courage guy and everything, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of things, like I’m not afraid to beat up monsters or jump headfirst into a well, but I’m filled with this… this dread. Like something bad is going to happen and no matter what I do, I can’t stop it.” He explains, never being this vulnerable with anyone anymore. He used to be with Mipha back in the day, but she was gone because of something Link couldn’t stop.

“Link… courage and bravery are two different things.” Zelda states, taking a risk and placing a dainty hand on his, the touch is electric, they both feel it. “Bravery is the ability to walk into an enemy camp with a decayed weapon and two apples. Courage is the strength to keep fighting when it feels impossible to.” She explains.

Link looks at her, and he realizes how easy it would be to just lean over and kiss her. Her lips are so soft, so pink, so inviting. He glances at them a few times. He decides not to.

“I just… I just don’t want to lose you again.” He pulls his hand away, looking down at the empty plate dejectedly.

“Hey.” She pulls his gaze again, their eyes meeting once more. “You got me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” She reassures him, and then rests her head on his shoulder. They needed one another.

He’s worried sick about her the entire time they’re in town. He can’t quit watching her, and she’s enthralled by the stimulation of the world around her. She almost gets plowed over by a kid running through the street, and she just laughs when it happens, the brightest smile on her face.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the sun on her face. The warmth of early summertime makes her cheeks a soft pink and eyelashes flutter.

“Did you have to bring that with you?” She asks, referencing the legendary sword that was strapped to his back. “It’s safe now, remember?”

Link frowns, “You can never be too-safe.” He just nods and she shrugs.

Zelda takes a hop-like step to the bulletin board posted in town to read the notices. One read that there would be a sale on milk up at the farm the next week, another was basic town hubbub, but one stood out to her. It was written by the hands of someone who isn’t very skilled with penmanship. It was a note asking for books, probably by a child. The note asked that someone would kindly donate a few new books for this young reader, leaving them on the bench outside of the mayor's home. She smiled, this was the type of kid she was.

A completely different note catches Link’s eye.

New monster spotted north-east of town. Killed two cattle. Please be cautious.

Link hums, turning the paper over to see if there’s any more information, but that was it.

“What is it?” Zelda asks.

“A monster. I would guess it's just a Moblin, but the note says it's new.” LInk frowns, perplexed. “I’ve fought every monster in Hyrule ten times over, there are only Moblins and Bokoblins in these parts.”

“Should we be worried?” She asks, her eyes blown-wide. She’s in constant fear of having to go through anything traumatic again.

Link shrugs, “I saw a destroyed fence the other day up there, I should probably go speak with the rancher.” He shoves the note in his back pocket, “Come on, let’s get you some clothes.” He holds his arm out for her to take, something he hasn’t done in a long time. He almost pulls it away in embarrassment but she gladly takes it, smiling at him as she does.

Both of their hearts threatened to burst out of their chests, but they each calmly forced themselves to stay composed.

Link leads her into one of the clothing stores, the door ringing from a bell as they enter. The shop was small, but had plenty of things in stock. Zelda pulls away from his arm sooner than either of them would have liked to start browsing. Link follows three steps behind, where he usually was.

“Link!” A woman smiles from the back of the shop. Ivee walks towards him, cheerful. “You’ve been gone for so long! I thought I heard you were back in town.” She says before wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. Link is a little surprised by it and doesn’t really hug her back.

Link nods with a smile. “I’ll be in town for a while.” He states, being friendly but not too friendly. He and Ivee have some history.

“You? Never.” She giggled, stepping closer to him, she was a bit shorter than him, and had cute brown eyes that sparkled up at him. “You can’t stay put in one place for too long, you'll get bored!” Her body language was flirty, handsy, she thought Link was as handsome as everyone else did.

Zelda is made aware of the situation and tries to keep her cool. There’s no reason to get jealous. “Well you all better give me some work to keep myself busy.” He smiles, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh I would love to.” She sighs and Link awkwardly laughs.

Zelda steps in at that moment, “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.” She stands a little closer to Link than she normally does, not quite touching him, but close enough.

“Ivee.” She says to Zelda. “And who are you…”

Zelda takes a harrowing breath, “Who am I?” She asks, her tone increasingly offended, “Who am I?” She asks again laughing at Link, “Well I am the Pri-“ She starts to say and Link interrupts her grabbing her shoulder.

“This is Zelda, she’s from the west. She’ll be staying with me for a while.”

“Oh.” Ivee looks visibly hurt. She then looks at Zelda with a frown, “You know, it’s bad luck to be named Zelda. That’s what the Princess who killed herself a hundred years ago was named.” She sighs, glaring at Zelda. Her gaze softens when she returns to speaking with Link, “If you need any assistance, I’ll just be up here.” She smiles and turns around, “It’s great to have you back in town, Linky. I would love to walk up to the waterfall at Nirvata lake with you again. It was so fun last time.” She winks at him before returning back to her perch.

Links cheeks burn red.

“Rude.” Zelda mutters under her breath. “What in the name of Hylia does she mean by that?…Linky?” Zelda teases, scoffing at him. Link swallows, embarrassed.

He then signs to Zelda, ‘Ivee makes up stories’.

Zelda lifts an eyebrow, not believing it, ‘She’s not very polite’.

Link shakes his head, ‘She’s young. Times are different’. He pulls Zelda into a more secluded corner of the store, not wanting to embarrass anyone, ‘You can’t tell people you’re the Princess’.

‘Why Not?’ Zelda signs back, her expression frustrated and confused, ‘I am, aren’t I? I didn’t kill myself. Do they really believe that?’

Link nods, ‘Some people don’t even believe the Calamity happened’.

“What?” Zelda verbally exclaims.

Link holds his pointer-finger to his lips, hushing her, Conspiracy theorists or something.’ He signs, ‘besides, people won’t believe you if you tell them you’re The Princess’.

‘That’s absurd!’ Zelda angrily signs at him.

Link tries to calm her down, looking at her with his understanding eyes, ‘Until we can get the Zora to confirm for the Hylians that you are The Princess, It’s best to just lay low’.

Zelda frowns, wrapping her arms across her chest. ‘Fine’. She signs back.

Link nods, “Let’s get you some clothes.”

They leave the store with a good collection of items, some shirts and trousers, a hooded cloak, socks and a pair of boots for her. She was still wandering around in her goddess sandals. “Most ladies wear skirts these days, when you’re in town, you should too.” He explains as they walk next door to a nicer, more prestigious shop. Zelda was acutely aware that he did not offer her his arm when they left Ivee’s shop.

“So they’ve regressed?” Zelda asks, back in her day, it was becoming quite popular for women to sport trousers, even in formal situations.

“Very much, yes.” Link nods. “The calamity threw the world back, technology has been put on a complete hold, there have been little-to-no scientific breakthroughs since.” Link explains. It makes Zelda sad.

“That’s a real tragedy.” She frowns, “We were making so much progress.”

“I know.” Link says, “but now everyone just fends for themselves. If there's a famine or illness in a town, it's up to that town to solve it. There was a village in West Hyrule, before the canyon that had survived the Calamity. They were doing pretty well for the first fifty or so years. But then they had a bad plague, and were completely wiped out. There's nothing but a ruin there now.”

Zelda’s heart hurts, “It’s my fault.” She stops in her tracks. Link turns around, looking at her dejected composure. He walks back to her, taking her hand with his.

“Look at me.” He says, but she keeps her gaze set on the dirt road. Link takes his hand and gently lifts her chin to make eye-contact with him. “It’s not your fault. This is not on one person's shoulders.”

“I know but-“

“Zelda.” He stops her, “We can’t change the past. It happened. But we are both still here.” He takes both her hands now, “We survived, so let's look into the future. There’s only up from here.” He reassures her.

Zelda cracks a smile, and she desperately wants to lean in and give him a quick, gentle kiss on his lips. But she doesn’t, because she can’t guarantee he would kiss her back, and she would rather suffer in silence over her desires for him, but stay close, than jeopardize their friendship at all.

“Come on.” He leads her into the store, not letting go of one of her hands until they’re inside.

Zelda leaves with two dresses now, a soft, cotton dress that’s blue, and a white one with green and yellow details on the hem of the fabrics. “Thank you, Link.” She says as they begin their walk back home. “How do you have so much money?”

“Talus.” Link nods, not giving anymore context. Zelda shrugs, catching up with him.

They spent that evening cleaning, Link finally took care of all the junk he stored there, discarding old weapons and starting a burn pile outback to get rid of scraps and wooden bows. Zelda takes a big broom and dusts out all of the cobwebs, sweeping out piles of dirt, and taking care of the sand pile that had accumulated from his treasures found in the desert. She noticed how her heart twinged at the idea of the desert, the idea of Urbosa. She shakes the thought away, focusing on the task.

Dusk falls on them, and Zelda is wiping down the walls with an old rag while Link is sitting up in the rafters, dusting the wooden beams the roof is built on and trying to reach a bird's nest that had been built up there. He straddles a beam, shirtless, barefoot, and dusty.

As he sits up there, he peers down at the girl who kneels twenty feet below him, her long hair tied back into a bun and secured with a stick shoved through the center of it. Her feet bare and dirty, toes poking out from under her bottom as she sat on them. She couldn’t see him looking at her, couldn’t hear how his heart beat twice as fast when he thought about her, wasn’t aware of how his pupils grew at the sight of her.

She hummed, and he could hear it. Humming a song he didn’t know, but felt vaguely familiar, like he knew it in a past life. Link wondered if the past incarnations of the Goddess and the Hero ever loved each other. Surely they did, to some degree. Maybe platonic, or the type of love you have for someone you work alongside and deeply respect. He wondered if any of them ever loved each other the way he wanted to love his Zelda. Did it ever work? Had he been a king in a past life? Did their past selves ever have children? His stomach flutters at the idea of having a family with her.

She must have sensed his gaze because as soon as he begins to fantasize about Zelda having a baby with him, she looks up at him, and smiles. He’s so shocked by her sudden gaze, terrified that she could read his mind and almost loses his balance on the beam, falling his chest onto it and holding on. He smiles back and laughs. Zelda giggles at him.

“How’s the view? Up there?” She stands up and does a silly little dance around herself.

He sighs, and laughs, “the view is perfect!” He shouts down, “A little dusty.” Coughing a bit.

She asks, “Are you alright up there?”

Link smiles, “I’m better than ever.”

—

Chapter five

168 notes · View notes

essycogany · 8 months

Text

Why I Ship Sonic The Hedgehog and Amy Rose?

Hi! I’ve been a Sonic fan since 2022 and wanted to give insight on a beloved pairing from someone who’s only FRESH in this fandom. So I could give a somewhat recent perspective on something others might’ve grown up with.

Disclaimer: This is just my merriment of cartoon madness. Done for fun. It has my everywhere all at once speculations, and opinions. Spat into one big MESS. No problem if you disagree. I wish you all the best in whatever you create with your preferred take on these characters.

I take 0 credit for anything displayed in visuals.

Now, let’s get started!

Reason 1: What Got Me Into Sonamy

I want to recommend people who not only helped me understand the dynamic better, but did so while giving good insight on Amy’s character. Which is one of the most inconsistent in the

ENTIRE franchise. Here they are! In no particular order.

Why Amy is a “Strong Female Character” [Sonic The Hedgehog Video Essay]

Channel: Taro Marshmallow on YouTube.

She helped me understand Amy’s character as a whole. I believe it’s important for people to comprehend Amy’s character in order for them to understand or like Sonamy. No one has to, but it sure was eye-opening for me. So, do of it what you will. I advise people to give it a watch for the AMAZING character analysis alone.

Molinaskies: On Tumblr, this person goes into serious analysis on Sonic’s emotional characterization, and Sonamy too. Words can’t describe how much I appreciate this ship the more I read about their dynamic from someone I can tell has fun doing it.

Sherrydoodlez: This person is the reason I became a Sonic and Sonamy fan at the same time. Once I saw her videos, I was HOOKED. She makes cute, fun, and outstanding Sonamy content on her YouTube channel. It’s mostly Boom!Sonamy animations with voice actors on some occasions. She makes other random Sonic animations as well. It’s a feel good channel you can watch to calm yourself as you head into a romantic cafe of servings you never knew you needed. Give her content a watch. It’s a jolly ride.

IDW (Specifically Issue #2 Page 21): I believe this is the statement which changed Sonic’s view about Amy. At the beginning, the blue blur was still on the run when Amy came around. But after fighting robots together and helping the villagers, Sonic admitted having fun. It could mean he grew more comfortable. Or just loves to fight robots regardless of who’s joining him.

Afterwards, Amy realized their negotiation about Sonic coming back to the resistance was a loss. She happily accepted it and accepted Sonic for who he is. Which made the feelings mutual on Sonic’s part in my opinion. He was even bashful while offering her to join him. Showing he didn’t mind having Amy around a bit longer. I know someone else stated this better, but I hope you get the point.

Sonamy is also the one ship that gets the most hints and jokes. From official writers, voice actors, (ESPECIALLY in Japan. Sonic and Amy’s VAs literally sung a love song IN CHARACTER for crying out loud.) X, Boom, Prime, artist, some of the games, and Sega themselves with their marketing.

Fact check me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure in Japan, Amy’s been called Sonic’s “Girlfriend,” plenty of times and some even theorize they're already together in the Japanese version of Sonic Frontiers.

(Which I’m positive is very intentional)

Can’t forget the creator of the characters Naoto Oshima stated on twitter, “Sonic has the eternal heart of a boy, but were he to one day mature, he’d choose Amy.” I believe if any ship in this franchise at least makes the most since, it’s Sonamy. I’m only scratching the surface, but we’d be here forever if I continued.

Reason 2: The Dynamic

I believe Sonamy works romantically and platonically. Sonic and Amy are best friends so their bond is already close in that regard. I think in times of peace they hang out. Which has been shown in IDW in the retail incentive covers of issue 1, 5th Anniversary.

The reason I think Amy’s the best choice for Sonic is because she can always keep up with him. She understands him and reads him like a book.

(Sonic doesn’t express himself very well, so that’d be a huge benefit.)

She brings an array of emotion out of him, and accepts him for who he is.

Amy wouldn’t slow him down because they’re relationship wouldn’t change at all. She’s always just as down for going out and exploring as he is. Being a hot-head, she’s not adverse for a bit of head busting with her hammer. Amy allows Sonic for a chance at a relationship he couldn’t get inattentive or tired in.

They’d go on their usual adventurers and might only tell a few friends about their relationship.

(Or keep it a secret)

After that, they’d travel together or Amy would leave Sonic to whatever he needed to do. In Sonic’s case, he would appreciate Amy’s understanding and return the favor by giving her flowers. Maybe even show minimal affection.

Like in Sonic X when he gives Amy a rose in episode 52. X also had moments where Sonic constantly protects/holds onto her. Not to mention willingly laid on a pile of hey next to Amy. And kept the bracelet she made him in episode 9.

Sonic X isn’t canon, but IDW has moments of Sonic hanging out or fighting alongside Amy too. Point is, the couple would be an updated version of their friendship. A “POWER COUPLE,” to be specific.

Romance doesn’t always mean you have to be lovey-dovey. You can treat your partner like a best friend as well. Sonic and Amy have a unique relationship because they’re subtle about it.

Reason 3: Why?

I believe it’s important to get this out of the way since these are my weird BIGGIES when it comes to shipping. Why Sonic might have a crush on Amy and why Amy loves Sonic?

Sonic’s (Alleged) Reasons: Amy doesn’t want to change him. She can keep up with him. She’s super compassionate and energetic.

(Sonic stated she was “sweet’ before.)

He respects and might even values her ways of thinking. In TMOSTH, he said:

In Prime he admits she’s, “Pretty great.”

And, he said in IDW Issue #58:

These can be seen as platonic compliments, but it’s the “Accepting Sonic for who he is” thing that homes in the mutual romantic feelings head-canon.

I’d even argue ever since Unleashed/Black Night he had a little crush on her, but felt unsure of it. That is, until IDW. He might still have no clue what to do next.

Sonic lines in Frontiers : “Amy, I should’ve made up my mind sooner.” and “Wish we were sharing an umbrella, Amy.” are huge examples of that and his reciprocated feelings.

Fun Fact: Sharing an umbrella as a couple in Japan is considered a romantic expression, and teens often draw an umbrella with their name and the name of their crush, the way one would in a heart. A very old tradition.

Sharing an umbrella has been seen as a romantic thing in a few American movies as well.

Here’s another detail I find hilarious. I LOVE in instances like Amy being, “The Lady Of The Lake” in Black Night. The time she ran away from Sonic in Unleashed, and became split versions of herself in Prime. The blue buffoon acts as if he grew more fond and I’d even suggest “attracted” to her. He either flirts with her or gets disappointed. To me, it’s a check on the, “Bringing a wide range of emotion out of him,” point.

In issue #2 of IDW it’s similar. Sonic asked Amy to join him. Then she admits being away from the resistance for too long. I’d say it’s a weirdly consistent thing. The times Sonic acts ready to “open up,” he and Amy end up having to save the world and go off to do their own thing.

(That panel in The Metal Virus with Sonic reaching to Amy while she’s freaking out, still hurts.)

Is this a sign they may need to take their time? Fortunately, we have additional content with them interacting outside those situations. I guess the hedgies are allowing each other to be their own person before committing to anything.

Like a “when they know, they’ll know,” situation.

Last thing. Sonic hugs Amy in both IDW and Frontiers. Never happened in official canon before, so his feelings must’ve changed into something.

Amy’s Reasons: He’s her inspiration and motive for loving adventures. Sonic gives Amy an excuse to show off her skills. And she admires his personality.

By the way, can we just appreciate how Amy loves Sonic for the right reasons? Not looks, popularity, or fortune. He always and forever will be her number one.

Reason 4: Conclusion

This isn’t everything, but I’m sure new content will give me new reasons to love this pair. I just wanted to take MOST of what’s already established and use it for a basic understanding.

As basic as overwhelmingly extra can be.

I don’t know whether or not Sonamy will be canon and that’s fine. To me, it’s semi cannon already and there’s a bunch of talented people who create Sonamy stories.

In actual media, their relationships grows stronger and stronger. Which I’ll dub, “Untouched reciprocation,” which is common in videos game ships.

I see Amy and Sonic as best friends with crushes on each other and find that very fascinating. The hedgehogs can just be.

Though on twitter in February 2023, someone asked about Sonic and Amy’s relationship. Then Mario Kishimoto (The director of Sonic Frontiers ) answered, “Sonic is single. But what about a lover? What about Amy? I’m also looking forward to seeing what kind of love Sonic will have in the future.”

Doesn’t prove much, but it could mean Sonic Team is interested in developing this relationship more. Whatever that indicates, I’m intrigued.

All in all this is why I love Sonamy. Hope you enjoyed my over analyzed essay

Stay Creative! 💙💖

#i love this ship so much #my first post #sonamy #sonic x amy #sonic and amy #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic prime #sonic boom #boom sonamy #analisys #sth #essay writing #hope you enjoy #@sherrydoodlez #@taromarshmallow #@Molinaskies #character analysis #ship analysis

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emry-stars-art · 10 months

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Just read the whole 'how Andreil pans out' ask and all I'm saying is that I love the idea of Andrew Courting Abram and Abram just absolutely misses that it's what is happening. Part of it is just a cultural difference, Evermore and Palmetto have different courting cultures perhaps?

Another part is that Andrew really does not act all THAT different. He's giving Abram gifts but like Andrew is always giving Abram stuff? It's not new? Yeah they had dinner together but that's just like what they......do?

Another another part is just Abram not even considering himself as someone worthy to be with Prince Andrew like that. He wasn't worthy before and after Evermore and everything I could imagine he feels even less like a person let alone a person who deserves Andrew's positive regard.

IDK I just love the idea of Abram at some point like 6 months into Andrew trying to court him seeing that behavior somewhere else, being told that's how nobility in Palmetto court others, and going to Andrew like "Have you, perchance, been trying to court me?"

Andrew setting his glass aside and looking up from where he's seated, "For 6 moons Abram, glad you've finally noticed." - @jtl-fics

jtl I. Wish. You could have seen my face as I read this, this is so hilarious and heartbreaking and lovely all in one and I’m in LOVE okay i love this so much. And we can totally make it work ahhhhh

Like yes! Yeah! Andrew’s already a gift giver, it’s just what he does as far as Abram’s concerned, and they spend so much time together that dinner isn’t strange those are perfect points. Like to the court it’s starting to become obvious - maybe in the kinds of gifts Andrew gives, or some other small things that are new, yes, but Abram has always taken these things in stride and usually his lack of judgement when Andrew tries new things or changes in little ways is a huge relief but not this time Abram PLEASE

Finally Andrew just bites the bullet and goes for a gesture that’s way more out of character and harder to mistake, which might look something like this (and thank you @leedee013 for tags about them giving each other flowers that I LOVED):

And Abram can’t really form his thoughts into words because like you said; he doesn’t think he should be allowed something like that, there’s no way he’s ever EVER going to assume that Andrew is trying to confess or clue him in to a courting like this, even if it’s in his head now

But then Lady Reynolds sees Abram later heading back to the castle/wherever he stays carrying this bouquet of carnations (fascination), narcissus (honesty/truth) and acacia (hidden love) (let’s not look too closely into these flower meanings lol, i picked the first ones I found and I’ll field all further questions with ‘artistic liberty’ 🫶) and they’re pretty close friends by now so she’s immediately like “oh my GODS Abram who gave that to you”

And Abram quietly says “the prince”

And Allison’s won like three separate bets between various other people of the court and she’s elated

But maybe she takes pity on him when she realizes exactly how clueless Abram is, so she does her best to explain everything and finally, Abram begins to allow the possibility that maybe Andrew is doing all this on purpose. But he would really rather like to be certain.

And of course I had to draw your little exchange but I did it from memory so apologies for the changes in dialogue but I love it:

ANYWAY from there, when it’s cleared up, it’s just them being dumb and sweet and grasping at straws for how to be in love and natural about it (because they’re both very private people and a good number of average/expected acts of courtship aren’t necessarily in their wheelhouse) 😭🥹 and not to add yet more hurt/comfort but Andrew is so so determined to figure out a way to assure and reassure Abram that he knows what he’s doing, yes Abram is worth it, yes he’s doing these things because he wants to. If he didn’t want to he wouldn’t be doing it in the first place. And I’ll bring it back around by using my previously mentioned artistic liberty to say that yes Prince Andrew loves having his hands held/kissed (just by Abram naturally) and Abram figures this out and absolutely uses it against him. They love each other your honor

Okay anyway thank you for the ask, I’m SO lucky to have such brilliant people in my inbox 🥰

#STG I WAS SMILING SO BIG WHEN I READ IT THROUGH #yeah they probably would have very different traditions! I like that a lot!#so it’d be even funnier when Abram finally calms down and relaxes into it #and yeah they can do flowers that works fine #but he probably accidentally/as a last effort tries some traditions from his native kingdom #they’re trying so hard but it’s a little lost in translation #ships passing in the night #they’re hopeless and I love them #GOD KEVIN WOULD HAVE TO DO THE TRANSLATION OF THE DIFFERENT CUSTOMS #He wants out of it so bad but there’s literally no one else to ask 😂😭#idk if either of them would ever deign to involve or ask Kevin but now I’m laughing #anyway I need to stop or I’ll never shut up about this #thank you this is great #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #allison reynolds #royal au #asks #chibi

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buckyb-stan · 1 year

Text

✨Bucky fic recommendations ✨

Last update: July 12th, 2023

Hi! I’m Jimena and I love reading fanfics. I usually just like them and eventually I end up losing some fics I really liked. So I decided to create this type of masterlist for me to organize and revisit fics I really really enjoy.

So please take this as some recommendations of fics you should read! In my opinion these authors deserve so much recognition for their incredible works 💖

Also if you have any recommendations please let me know, I would love to read them.

——————————————————————————

SERIES

I’m with you (Mini series) - @wkemeup

summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, modern!au

For the Love of the Game - @pellucid-constellations

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

The Number One Rule - @justkending

Series Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor’s degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left. But don’t worry, the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other’s buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Save me (Mini Series) - @espinosaurusrexex

summary: Bucky Barnes has never had it easy, which ultimately turned him into a caveman-like introvert with no desire to see the positive side of life. But what happens when the clumsily charming art student, Y/N, stumbles to his rescue, determined to show Bucky how truly wonderful the world is?

Pairing: College!BuckyBarnes x College!reader AU

Everything's Better in Westview - @espinosaurusrexex

summary: Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

Pairing: BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

Bulletproof - @amandaoftherosemire

Summary: You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?

Pairing: BuckyBarnes x Reader

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight ** // Part Nine // Part Ten // Part Eleven** // Part Twelve // Part Thirteen ** // Part Fourteen // Epilogue

Sunrise - @wkemeup

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)

Paring: bucky x reader (veteran!bucky x librarian!reader)

Winter Canvas Masterlist - @sebbytrash

Summary - AU Reader is an Art Major and needs a life model for a major assessment. The catch? It’s gotta be a stranger. Then you gotta remind yourself that it’s just an assignment…right?

Pairing: College!Bucky x reader

★ Ice ice baby ★ - @endless-summer-soldier

Summary: Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

Pairing: CollegeHockeyPlayer!Bucky x CollegeFigureSkater!Reader | Enemies to lovers

★ Method acting ★ - @kinanabinks

Summary: frat!steve and y/n are close friends, but the lines are starting to blur. if that isn't confusing enough, enter beryl; a girl who's hell-bent on making steve rogers hers, no matter what it takes.

Pairing: Frat!Steve x reader x Frat!Bucky

——————————————————————————

One shots

How’s Your Head? - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Summary: Reader gets hurt in the subway, Bucky helps

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Suburbia - @wkemeup

summary: Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

Pairing: bucky x reader

let’s play pretend - @khimili

Summary: You’re supposed to attend your sister’s wedding, but when you learn your ex-boyfriend is coming with his newly found girlfriend, you come up with a lie. Yes, you’re in a relationship, and yes, you’ll bring someone to the wedding. Since your sister already knows about your best friend Steve, you decide to set your sights on his taciturn friend, the infamous Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

She’s not mad - @subwaysurf45

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.

Pairing: College!Bucky x reader

Golden Life, Gutters - @castieltrash1

Summary: patience is a virtue and you show bucky barnes he’s worth waiting for

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!reader

(One part but it has 17k words)

It’s called: freefall - @kikixreverie

Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Flirting and Football - @lovelybarnes

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a soccer player, most girls are interested in him but Bucky is surprised and interested in reader when reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him. College AU

Pairing: CollegeAthlete!Bucky x reader

The right partner - @bucky-bucket-barnes

Summary: You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader Enemies to lovers

★ When the Morning Comes ★ - @pellucid-constellations

Summary: An entire childhood, an entire life, and Bucky just hopes you’ll be there when the morning comes—that you’ll get tired of this town and follow him. If not, he’ll try again next summer. And the summer after that.

Pairing: Modern!Bucky x reader

——————————————————————————

Two parts

Like I Want You - @tmpestuous

summary: you and bucky have been best friends your entire life and it’s never been anything but platonic. so why do things get so bad when he gets a new girlfriend?

Pairing: college!bucky x reader

——————————————————————————

I’ll keep updating it as I read more fics (new ones will be marked with ★ )

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sugamehhq · 3 months

Text

Acknowledgement (Johnshi)

More writing for my Demons and Angels AU !

If you haven't read the first post about this AU, I suggest you do as this is a continuation of the first one :))

It hadn’t occurred to Kenshi how long it would take for the angel to recover from marking.

He’d been in the angel’s territory way longer than he should’ve been, but his newly claimed partner was first priority. A couple days had passed, Johnny’s leg relaxed enough for him to stand, but Kenshi insisted he take another day of rest. While the angel continued to rest, the demon provided food, water, and comfort. He never once left his side.

However, when the angel awoke, Kenshi sprung the idea of getting him acknowledged.

Johnny became visibly disturbed, “Can’t we just live here? We can find somewhere secluded, we don’t have to-”

“Johnny,” Kenshi sat in front of the angel, “I need you to be acknowledged.”

Johnny stared at Kenshi, once again wondering what laid behind that blindfold he always wore. His hand squeezed the other’s, making his fear known.

“Please..?”

The desperate tone of the demon’s voice was convincing, but it wasn’t convincing enough to get him off the ground.

“Can it wait a few days,” Johnny sighed, “I don’t think I could face anyone if I wanted to.”

Kenshi’s eyebrow raised in confusion.

“How come?”

Johnny hesitated. Has it not occurred to Kenshi that meeting the higher-ups meant potentially seeing faces he never wanted to see again? Does he not realize Johnny’s never set foot in that area of his territory?

“I feel disgusting,” was how his mind chose to reply.

Kenshi’s hand pulled away slightly causing Johnny to speak up.

“Not because of you, or us, just because,” his voice trailed off.

He wanted to say it to his partner’s face, but he couldn’t form the words to.

With their bond, Kenshi could sense the disturbance in Johnny’s mind. His hand found its way to the angel’s mark, gently massaging it to provide comfort.

“I get it,” he smiled, “just let me know when you’re ready.”

Johnny considered himself lucky. Having landed a partner so understanding and patient was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

While Johnny prepared himself to meet his higher-ups, Kenshi took the time to head back to his territory. When he arrived, he was interrogated immediately.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Where do you think I’ve been Sonya,” Kenshi growled, not bothered to talk to anyone of his kind.

“Someone’s moody,” she pressed further, “did something happen?”

Kenshi silently nodded while collecting some items. He was avoiding conversation as best as he could. As much as he loved Sonya as a friend, he didn’t want to trust anyone with the information of him claiming a low rank, brown winged, angel.

“I’m only here to finish a few things,” he turned to face the blonde, “I didn’t miss anything important did I?”

“No sir,” Sonya saluted playfully before laughing to herself.

Kenshi smiled in response to her energy. She always had a positive light to her. If it wasn’t for her very obvious demon features he would have mistaken her for an angel.

Having been left alone to tend to his duties, Kenshi thought about his situation. On one hand, it was relieving to know the angel was his, that he was able to secure him to a safe rank. On the other, he worried the angel would have to prove himself to his family, as well as the top demon, Sindel. He didn’t wish to put any unnecessary pressure on him, this leading him to consider Johnny’s words.

“Can’t we just live here?”

While it sounded nice to run away and not worry about anything else but each other, Kenshi was a family oriented man. If he never got the chance to bring Johnny to his family, to receive approval of his actions, he’d feel off. Johnny is a part of him now, which meant he needed to meet his family, at least in Kenshi’s mind, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

He soon realized he was jumping the gun a bit. First, they had to get Johnny acknowledged by the top angel, Liu Kang.

The day Johnny decided he was ready for his acknowledgement, Kenshi could tell.

The angel’s energy, of which is tied to Kenshi’s, was sour. Kenshi could tell he wanted to avoid it longer, but knew he had to get it over with. The second Kenshi set foot in angel territory, Johnny attached himself to him.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

Kenshi brushed his bangs out of his face before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. He could feel the angel’s hand creeping up his back to rub at his mark, a silent attempt to comfort himself by easing Kenshi’s nerves. Noticing Johnny was trying his hardest to stall, Kenshi took his hand and started walking.

When the higher-ups area of land came into view, Kenshi could feel Johnny pulling back ever so slightly. The demon was determined to get this done, so he pulled him forward. The angel’s eyes quickly darted back and forth across the area, unsure of his surroundings. Feeling Johnny growing more uncomfortable with each step, the demon brought him to his side.

“Calm down,” he spoke quietly, “you’re worrying too much.”

“And you’re not?” Johnny bit back more aggressively than he would’ve liked.

“Of course I am,” the demon looked around, “I’m the one who’s not from here.”

The two must’ve looked suspicious as eyes started taking notice of their strange pace. Johnny could feel the burning eyes of angels trying to figure out who he was. While they didn’t recognize him, Johnny recognized a few faces, ones he would’ve preferred to never see again, just like he thought.

Kenshi must’ve realized, his hand holding Johnny’s a little tighter than before.

For Johnny, walking the halls of such a pure and beautiful structure felt wrong. He felt as if his footsteps dirtied the place, that his overall presence tainted its beauty. It felt wrong to be in a place such as this.

Having reached the main stage, Kenshi halted their steps.

His hand fidgeted with Johnny’s, discomfort becoming known.

Johnny looked at him confused.

“Shit,” the demon sighed.

The angel opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when an angel with their hair tied back entered the hall.

“Hello,” their voice was soft and comforting, “may I ask what you’re here for?”

It was strange, for Johnny at least. Hearing another angel speak with such proper tone and respect was off putting. His hand pulled at Kenshi’s, silently asking to leave.

“We’d like to speak with Lord Liu Kang, if that’s alright?”

The other angel smiled before gesturing forward.

The look of determination on Kenshi’s face was strong, as if he had something to prove. As the two approached the main room, their presence became known to Liu Kang. The white winged angel didn’t speak, he just observed. His face carried a polite smile as he watched Johnny kneel and Kenshi bow slightly.

“Excuse us for interrupting,” Kenshi started before looking back up at the higher-up, “is it alright to ask you a favor.”

If it wasn’t for the proper setting, Kenshi would’ve slapped himself. He sounded ridiculous at that moment.

Liu Kang nodded, still not saying a word.

Kenshi stared dumbfounded, but responded.

“My name is Kenshi Takahashi,” he grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him up to stand beside him.

The demon hesitated, his gaze falling to his partner beside him. He offered a soft squeeze to his arm in apology before finishing his statement.

“This is Johnathan Carlton.”

Johnny noticeably cringed at the use of his full name.

Liu Kang noticed his discomfort, but remained silent waiting for the demon’s request.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in your territory getting to know him. He’s sweet, caring, and a wonderful individual to be around. He is, was, a rank 12. I brought us here to request your acknowledgement of Johnny’s new position in rank.”

Kenshi was on autopilot. Normally he was fine with facing higher-ups, but this was different.

Beside Liu Kang stood his other half, whom Kenshi knew.

Kitana. The top demon’s daughter.

Having her there to listen to his proposal stirred his brain. He felt the need to prove his choice, prove his actions to be right.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was her smile in reply.

Only then did Liu Kang speak.

“Good for you, Johnny.”

And that was that.

Just as soon as things began, they ended.

Neither Kenshi or Johnny had time to process the approval of their bond. Liu Kang had his follower angels tend to Johnny, replacing his copper jewels with his newly earned gold ones. While they were occupied, Kenshi was left confused.

“So this is where you’ve been this whole time?”

Kitana’s voice rang throughout the room.

Kenshi quickly snapped out of his daze to nod.

“Mother was looking for you the other day,” the demoness laughed.

“She was?” Kenshi’s proper presentation began to slip.

“Yes, though I don’t believe it was of any importance.”

The demon sighed, so Sonya telling him he didn’t miss anything wasn’t completely a lie.

“I suggest when you head back you take the angel with you.”

“I planned to,” Kenshi bowed slightly.

“Good.”

With that, the demoness left to rest at her partner’s side once more.

When Johnny was released he looked uncomfortable. It was a strange change, but who was he to complain? Instead of his usual bronze jewels, his figure was adorned with a newly supplied gold set. He was told his original bronze was to be cleaned and stored in his room, of which he would learn about later.

“Well look at you,” Kenshi teased to lighten the mood, “all prettied up in gold.”

The angel huffed a laugh, unsure how to feel.

The demon reached towards him, silently asking for contact, of which Johnny complied.

“I’m not sure gold suits me,” he spoke into Kenshi’s shoulder.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t do me justice.”

“Bullshit,” Kenshi ruffled his hair while tightening his embrace on the other.

Johnny rolled his eyes before melting into his partner.

“So what’s next?” the angel unintentionally asked, his nerves still blazing.

“Well,” Kenshi sighed, “next would be getting my family’s approval."

Right… His family’s approval.

Some information to consider:

Sonya and Kenshi are best friends in this AU.

Liu Kang and Kitana are seen as very intimidating individuals. Most people don't know they're probably the sweetest people to ask approval of.

Acknowledgement is basically just bringing attention to the fact someone's rank has changed. It's not required, but for Johnny's sake and Kenshi's peace of mind, Kenshi required it of him.

Lower ranks and higher ranks barely know one another. Liu kang might be the ruler of the angels, but he doesn't know who Johnny is, hence why Kenshi introduced him the way he did.

Johnny is uncomfortable of the use of his full name. Due to his background, his full name gives him an ick, so he prefers to be called Johnny. It's similar to his given name since he does like his name, but it's different enough to be different from his given name.

Idk if I said it or made it clear enough in my writings, but marking another person results in your energies being tied together. Whatever you feel your partner feels. If you're both feeling nervous then the feeling is amplified since there is two of you. Kenshi and Johnny, when walking through the halls of the higher-up's residence, looked suspicious for the fact they shared intense nerves in the moment. Kenshi is just better at masking it and tried his best to keep himself calm to not overwhelm Johnny more than he already was.

---

Anyway, that's all for now :))

As usual I've written this at ungodly hours of the night, so forgive me if anything sounds wacky.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed :))

#mk1 #johnshi #kenshi takahashi #johnny cage #johnny x kenshi #kencage #mortal kombat 1 #sugameh's fic archive #sugameh's aus #mongelmkau #mk au #mortal kombat #mortal kombat au #Demons and Angels MK AU #liu kang #liutana #raiden #sonya blade

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gimmethatagustd · 7 months

Text

let me adore you | kth + pjm

Jimin can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror, but he’s all that Taehyung has eyes for.

↳ pairing: taehyung x jimin

↳ wc/date: 8k | October 2023

↳ warnings: mental illness, depression, jimin has body dysmorphic disorder, very hurtful inner thoughts, the plot is basically nonexistent it's just smut and soft feelings lmfao, anal fingering, blowjobs, unprotected anal sex, body worship

↳ notes: pls be gentle with yourself as you read this story cuz jimin is very tough on himself, and it could be uncomfortable to read if you relate to his body image struggles. this fic was a submission for the AO3 BTS Hurt/Comfort Fest

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? adore you - harry styles

Jimin’s clothes don’t fit.

His lavender silk button-up keeps slipping off his shoulder, exposing his collarbones to the cool night air. It makes him tremble slightly, and Taehyung must notice because he pulls Jimin tighter against his chest.

“How’s it going, love?” Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder and turns his head to the side when he whispers the question. His voice is raspy from talking all night, and the deepness of it warms the pit of Jimin’s stomach, even in his sour mood.

Jimin shrugs, and Taehyung lets out an amused huff at his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. His breath tickles Jimin’s neck.

“Bored?”

Taehyung smells like vodka and ginger beer from the Moscow mule he’s been nursing all night. He holds the copper mug in the hand that isn’t splayed against the lower half of Jimin’s tummy. As much as Jimin loves being in Taehyung’s embrace, the pressure of his hand is making Jimin’s skin crawl. He hates it when Taehyung touches his stomach.

“I’m not bored,” Jimin says flatly. He’s not bored, but he’s not entertained, either.

Going to Euphoria used to be the highlight of Jimin’s weekend. It’s Seoul’s most elite rooftop bar. Slipping past the bouncers guarding the glass elevator that takes patrons to the roof is possible thanks to being friends with Seokjin. Taehyung had met him through his best friend, Jungkook. It has been a little over two years since Seokjin came around, but he fit into their friend group almost immediately, even though Jimin and his friends are nowhere near as impressive as an actor. Seokjin is attractive, gregarious, and rich, but it’s his goofy personality that molds well with Taehyung and Jungkook's often childlike sense of wonder.

Taehyung brushes his lips against Jimin’s neck as he murmurs, “Tired? Wanna go home?”

The sensation makes the hairs on the nape of Jimin’s neck stand up, and the fire that seems to always burn in the pit of his stomach when Taehyung’s around flickers once again. It’s frustrating how easily Taehyung can make Jimin’s heart race, even when he isn’t in the mood for kisses and that velvety voice whispering in his ear.

Jimin does want to go home, but he knows Taehyung and their friends are having fun. The whole reason why they’re out is to celebrate Taehyung graduating from his Ph.D. program and securing a position as a therapist. It would be rude of him to force Taehyung to leave his own party. He’s being a shitty boyfriend, bringing the mood down. Taehyung shouldn’t have to check in on Jimin while he’s celebrating such an important achievement.

“Hyung, stop being so gross!” A voice cries out from Jimin’s left, and he turns to see Jungkook walking away from his conversation with Seokjin and a few people Jimin doesn’t know.

Taehyung mumbles something into Jimin’s neck before straightening his posture. He finally lets go of Jimin, leaving his place behind Jimin to instead stand next to him. Ordinarily, the loss of contact would leave Jimin feeling cold, but tonight, he’s relieved.

It makes Jimin feel awful.

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize giving my boyfriend attention was gross,” Taehyung counters with a roll of his eyes.

“The two of you are the worst about PDA!” Jungkook presses on with exaggerated exasperation. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Taehyung parrots back. He reaches out with lightning speed to pinch Jungkook’s nipple through his shirt, twisting it with his index finger and thumb hard enough to make Jungkook squeal.

“Aw, hyung, what the fuck!” Jungkook swats at Taehyung’s arm. He covers both nipples with his hands and turns to give Jimin a pout. It’s ridiculous.

“You’re both being ridiculous,” Jimin mutters. He brings his drink to his lips, a gin and Coke that Taehyung nearly spit out when he took a sip earlier.

Jimin’s response isn’t what Jungkook was looking for, so he resumes harassing Taehyung about being “too whipped for his own good”.

Normally, the playful altercation would make Jimin smile. It’s true; Taehyung is undeniably head-over-heels for Jimin, and they all know it – even before they started dating, back when Jimin and Jungkook were roommates, and Taehyung was simply “Jungkook’s best friend”. Taehyung had crushed on Jimin so hard it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he grew the courage to ask Jimin out.

Taehyung’s love for Jimin is painfully obvious. It’s in the way Taehyung watches Jimin with such soft, kind eyes like Jimin is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It’s in the way he holds Jimin in his large hands like he’s afraid Jimin might break. It’s in the way he melts under Jimin’s touch, even after five years of dating. Their honeymoon phase never ended. Despite how annoying, frustrating, and utterly terrible Jimin is, somehow, Taehyung still loves him.

To avoid staring at Taehyung any longer, Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook. He looks good tonight, though he always does.

Jungkook is big. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in muscle. His biceps are getting thicker, and the buttons on his shirt strain when he moves his torso a certain way. He’s been working out more.

Taehyung has gotten bigger, too. He has started going with Jungkook to the gym, mainly on the weekends, because Taehyung often offers late appointments for clients who can’t speak with him until after they’re off work.

Over time, Taehyung has filled out, muscles developing in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been prominent before. When he wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist, Jimin notices the raised veins that run along his forearm, exposed from his sleeves being rolled up.

It’s hot, but Jimin can’t enjoy his boyfriend’s developing physique.

He looks down at his body as Jungkook and Taehyung bicker, their voices mixing in with the music playing from overhead speakers.

Jimin is small.

He can see his hip bones protruding from his skin-tight black jeans. He should’ve worn looser pants, but Taehyung likes Jimin in these jeans. He’s not sure why. All they do is accentuate how frail he is.

It’s disgusting.

Jimin shifts uncomfortably in Taehyung’s embrace. He can feel Taehyung’s fingers against his ribcage. When Jimin adjusts, Taehyung’s hand slides down to hold Jimin’s hip.

Jimin’s waist is tiny enough that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him. When he inhales, he can see his ribs poking through his skin, and he knows from countless hours of staring at himself in the mirror that the knobby vertebrae of his spine are visible, too.

Jimin prayed for his “adult body” to show up for years. He figured as he got older, he’d fill in a bit. He tried working out, but he’s not confident enough to lift weights at the gym with all the gym bros watching him, waiting for him to embarrass himself. And when he does cardio, he just loses more weight.

All he wants is to be less… plain, bony, and unattractive. Not a stick, easily knocked over and bent in half. He wants to be soft and pretty. He wants hips and thighs for Taehyung to squeeze and hold onto. He wants to fill in his jeans and for his shirts to fit against a chest that isn’t so flat. No one wants to touch and kiss and fuck a skeleton.

And he really wishes he could grow taller, though that obviously isn’t in the cards for him.

He looks up at Taehyung and watches his side profile while he talks. His eyes are bright from being a bit tipsy, and he talks animatedly, swinging the hand holding his drink. Luckily, it’s nearly empty, or he’d have spilled it all over himself by now.

Taehyung is gorgeous. He’s tall, all legs, with beautiful tan skin and beauty marks that make Jimin want to kiss him all over. Even when he was a little on the skinnier side, it made sense on him. He looks like a supermodel.

Jimin can’t understand why Taehyung, someone so perfect, would want to date him. Especially when Taehyung could have anyone he wants.

One of those anyones chooses now to saunter over to where the trio are talking. Leaning against the rooftop balcony’s glass railing, Jimin watches the man with growing irritation.

“Tae! Congratulations, my friend. I’m so happy for you.”

And there’s that blinding smile so large it pushes deep dimples into the man’s cheeks. He’s just as tall as Taehyung and absolutely gorgeous, with tan skin and muscles that rival Jungkook’s. Jimin forces himself to take another sip of his drink to avoid scowling as Taehyung’s arm slips from his waist to wrap around the newcomer’s body instead.

“Namjoonie hyung, thank you!”

“I’ve got a gift for you, but it wasn’t ready yet. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung waves Namjoon’s concerns away. “Ah, hyung, you didn’t need to get me anything at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Tae,” Namjoon insists. “I’ll find a time for you to come over to my place so I can give it to you.” Namjoon brushes his shoulder against Taehyung’s. Although the force is light, it makes Taehyung take a step backward, and he bumps into Jimin.

“Sorry, love,” Taehyung apologizes with a smile that makes Jimin’s head spin.

Taehyung doesn’t look at Namjoon the way he looks at Jimin, but maybe one day he could. And why not? Namjoon fits Taehyung better. They look perfect together as Namjoon lifts his phone up to take a selfie, his cheek pressed against Taehyung’s. He and Taehyung met in college, years before Jimin moved in with Jungkook. Taehyung never said anything happened between the two of them; he always referred to Namjoon as a close friend. But he never said nothing happened, either. Just thinking about it makes Jimin’s stomach churn.

Fueled by jealousy that he doesn’t feel like addressing, Jimin’s fingers pull at the sleeve of Taehyung’s leather jacket.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Can we go home?”

Taehyung nods immediately without asking why, and warmth blooms in Jimin’s chest even as he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” Taehyung mumbles the apology while he looks down at the space between where he and Jimin sit in the backseat of the taxi. He plays with Jimin’s fingers, paying particular attention to Jimin’s pinky, which is equally endearing and annoying.

Their hands look pretty intertwined, Taehyung’s long and tan, the fingers of an artist and musician, while Jimin’s are short and stubby. It’s funny how even Taehyung’s fingers are perfect, whereas Jimin’s are just as ugly as the rest of him. Life works in mysterious ways, Jimin supposes.

“I did have fun,” Jimin lies.

He watches the city fly past them in streaks of white light and doesn’t look at Taehyung. If he does, Taehyung will know the truth. He probably already knows. It’s soulmate behavior, Seokjin would say. Jimin and Taehyung are tethered in a way no one understands. Jimin swears they’re so deeply connected that his soul aches when Taehyung is unhappy.

Taehyung swears he feels the same way, which makes Jimin feel even worse.

Time passes strangely in the middle of the night. A twenty-minute car ride to their apartment feels like an eternity, yet hardly anything has changed once Jimin and Taehyung scoot out of the backseat. The air is chillier now, though Jimin’s sensitive response to the temperature may be due to the taxi driver blasting the heat on the drive over. He also doesn’t have any body fat on him to keep him warm, a thought that further sours his mood as he follows Taehyung into the lobby, where they wait for the elevator.

Once inside, Taehyung hooks his finger through Jimin’s belt loop and pulls him forward until their fronts are pressed together.

“You don’t have to lie to me, baby,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s fluffy blonde hair with a squeeze of his hips. “I know you weren’t thrilled about going out, so I appreciate that you still went with me.”

Despite his mood, Jimin melts into Taehyung’s embrace. Taehyung hugs like he’s trying to absorb the tension Jimin holds inside his body. Jimin breathes in his cologne, oak and spice, and the bite of vodka as he buries his face in Taehyung’s chest. None of the antidepressant medications lining the nightstand on Jimin’s side of the bed can give him the sense of relief a hug from Taehyung gives him, even if Taehyung’s hugs remind Jimin of how different their bodies are. Even if Jimin knows he can’t find a cure for his problems in another person. Taehyung feels good; some things are as simple as that.

The sob that shudders through Jimin’s chest is abrupt and unexpected. He knows it catches Taehyung off guard because Jimin feels him suck in a deep breath, and his arms reflexively tighten around him.

Honestly, it catches Jimin off guard, too. He cries so infrequently that Taehyung has commented on it. Something about occasional tears being psychologically good for him.

Jimin doesn’t understand how crying can ever be a good thing. Embarrassment and shame ripple through him with each sob. There is a level of helplessness that comes with crying episodes. Losing control of one’s emotions is disheartening and sometimes even scary. It’s upsetting to know that Jimin will never be okay, no matter how hard he tries.

“Oh baby,” Taehyung murmurs as he cups the back of Jimin’s head to hold him against his chest. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“I f-f-feel…” Jimin’s whimpers prevent him from speaking clearly, though Taehyung has always been the more patient of the two. “I’m so ugly , Tae. I hate myself.”

These aren’t words Taehyung hasn’t heard before, but he’s sincere when he asks, “What makes you say that?” Because the answer is always different, even when it’s the same.

Jimin shrugs in Taehyung’s embrace. The ding of the elevator reaching their floor punctuates his silence.

Bending slightly, Taehyung grabs the backs of Jimin’s thighs just below his butt and lifts him. Taehyung’s ability to easily carry Jimin has always been hot, though Jimin hasn’t dared to admit that out loud. Not that Taehyung has ever made him feel bad about his interests; it’s just that there are many things Jimin is too afraid to say to anyone.

Jimin quickly wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist and hugs his broad shoulders as Taehyung carries him out of the elevator. It’s late enough that the hallway is empty, though Taehyung wouldn’t care if someone saw them like this. Jimin keeps his face buried in the crook of Taehyung’s neck so he wouldn’t know either way. It’s safe here, breathing Taehyung in with his eyes squeezed shut.

Taehyung adjusts his hold on Jimin to input their apartment passcode and kicks the door open. He doesn’t speak as he carries Jimin to their bedroom, though Jimin tunes into his steady breathing and attempts to mimic it to calm himself down.

Once in the bedroom, Taehyung gently sits Jimin down on their bed. His thumbs swipe across Jimin’s closed eyes, brushing tears from his eyelashes. It’s gentle, far gentler than Jimin has ever deserved.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung calls out to him softly.

Jimin slowly opens his eyes and does his best to meet Taehyung’s. His expression is gentle; eyes crinkled at the corners as he looks at Jimin with so much love and adoration that Jimin feels he’ll combust from the warmth.

“Which Taehyung would you like me to be tonight?”

Jimin smiles despite his bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It may be an odd question to an outsider, but for Jimin, it’s everything he loves about Taehyung.

It’s a habit they’ve fallen into after five years of dating, developed after Jimin snapped at Taehyung for “psychoanalyzing” him one too many times, as a way for Taehyung to understand what Jimin needs from him in a moment of distress. Occasionally, Taehyung goes into Therapist Mode, as Jimin calls it. Therapist Taehyung can be helpful when Jimin is desperate for relief from the horrors of his mind. Still, sometimes Therapist Taehyung can make Jimin feel like he’s being poked and prodded, evaluated, and assessed, even when Taehyung doesn’t mean to come off that way.

Boyfriend Taehyung doesn’t go into Therapist Mode. Boyfriend Taehyung is gentle and understanding without being judgmental.

“I need Boyfriend Tae,” Jimin replies once he clears his throat.

“Alright, Boyfriend Tae, it is,” Taehyung confirms with a boxy smile. “Boyfriend Tae needs to shower, and he’d like you to join him. Is that okay?”

Jimin nods and takes Taehyung’s outstretched hands, allowing Taehyung to pull him up from the bed. In one sweeping motion, Taehyung lifts Jimin into his arms, carrying him bridal-style into the bathroom.

“I hate that you can manhandle me,” Jimin grumbles once Taehyung places him on the counter.

“That’s very interesting,” Taehyung remarks in a sing-song voice as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Inch by inch, golden skin on display. “Usually when I pick you up and throw you around, you’re babbling about how much you love how str–”

“Shh!” Jimin presses his finger to his puckered lips, cheeks pink and sufficiently embarrassed. For a moment, his insecurities are forgotten, replaced by heat simmering in his stomach when Taehyung’s pretty hands begin unbuckling his belt.

He watches Taehyung’s eyes zero in on his finger and knows he isn’t looking at his mouth but instead the tattoo of a seven on the inside of his finger: July 7th, their anniversary. When Taehyung strips out of his slacks once his shirt is discarded on the floor, he reveals his matching tattoo on his thigh. They got them on their first anniversary – a decision most of Jimin’s friends warned him against. Rightfully so. Getting matching tattoos after only a year of dating seems like a risk, but Jimin knew Taehyung was his forever since their first kiss.

“You don’t have to shower with me if you don’t want to, jagiya.”

Taehyung stands between Jimin’s legs, grabbing the counter's edge on either side of his hips. While Jimin was lost in his thoughts, Taehyung finished undressing. The only thing remaining is a thin gold chain resting on his pronounced collarbones. The chain matches the dangly earring hanging from his left earlobe. Taehyung looks so pretty in dainty jewelry yet still holds onto his particular brand of elegant masculinity.

“Chim?”

Jimin blinks, forcing himself to stop thinking about how pathetic he looks next to Taehyung.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to shower in your clothes?”

“No…”

Unable to meet Taehyung’s dark eyes, Jimin tucks his chin to his chest. While Taehyung reaches behind his neck to remove his chain, Jimin wiggles off the counter to remove his clothes. He keeps his back to the mirror, afraid to look at what he knows he’ll see there. It’s bad enough that he can watch the front of his body as he sheds his clothes, each one a protective layer, like a snake shedding its skin. But Jimin isn’t strong beneath the fabric; the more he takes off, the smaller he becomes.

“Can I help?”

Taehyung’s fingers brush against Jimin’s neck as Jimin steps out of his jeans. The touch makes him shiver. He nods, and Taehyung gently removes Jimin’s diamond stud earrings, placing both silver hoops on the counter alongside Taehyung’s chain and dangly earring.

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers.

“Of course, baby.”

Stepping away, Taehyung slides the glass shower door open and sticks his hand under the running water. Jimin’s not sure how he keeps losing track of reality; he only now realizes that the shower is running. Perhaps it’s his way of stalling, of avoiding what’s about to happen.

A shower is never just a shower.

“C’mon, love.”

Showers are easier with Taehyung. Jimin gets to close his eyes and lean his head back as Taehyung’s nimble fingers massage shampoo into his hair. He doesn’t have to look at his body because Taehyung washes him with a sudsy washcloth. When it’s time to get out, Taehyung wraps Jimin in the fluffiest towel they own and whisks him away before he can catch a glimpse of his naked body in the mirror.

Jimin keeps the towel wrapped around his body while he sits on the bed and watches Taehyung. Nudity disgusts him when it’s his bare body, but he can never grow tired of the beauty of Taehyung’s naked body. Taehyung saunters around the room with confidence Jimin could only dream of. Even with his wet hair and soft cock, he looks like a god among men as he puts away their jewelry for safekeeping.

Catching Jimin’s eye through the mirror, Taehyung grins, boxy and wide.

“Were you checking out my ass, Park Jimin?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin tugs the towel tighter around his body. Such a ridiculous question doesn’t deserve a response.

Taehyung, however, is stubborn. Kneeling on the bed, he invades Jimin’s personal space as he leans forward, his hands resting on either side of Jimin’s thighs. He’s wearing the mischievous grin that makes Jimin’s stomach flip.

“Do you know how cute you are?” Taehyung asks, cocking his head to the side as he admires Jimin – what on him, specifically, he has no idea. “So fucking cute. I could eat you.”

Jimin shivers. He leans back as Taehyung crawls forward until he’s eventually flat on his back.

“Boyfriend Tae is turning into Menace Tae,” Jimin mumbles, unable to meet Taehyung’s eyes. They’re dark and lidded.

“Hmm.” Taehyung presses his palms into the mattress on either side of Jimin’s head, just above his shoulders.

Jimin naturally parts his legs so Taehyung can fit between them, causing the towel to hike up. When he shifts slightly, he can feel Taehyung’s cock rest against the inside of his thigh, warm and heavy – and a source of comfort, as odd as that may seem. The feeling is difficult for Jimin to explain. Having Taehyung so close that nothing separates them has always shaken Jimin to the bone. Nothing is so pure or sure of a reminder that Taehyung is here . He is alive, perfect, and present – all for Jimin to drown himself in the vanilla scent of his body wash and the fruity tartness of his shampoo. To be suffocated by such warmth would be more than Jimin deserves.

“Menace Tae would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?” Taehyung wets his lips as he waits, eyes gentle even if he does look like he wants to eat Jimin whole.

“Yes,” Jimin says with an exhale.

Gently cupping Jimin’s face, Taehyung leans down and slots their lips together. Jimin feels his stomach swoop, an exhilarating energy thrumming through him when Taehyung sighs into his mouth. Despite the drag of Taehyung’s tongue along Jimin’s bottom lip and the light nibble he gives it, the kiss is relatively chaste.

Taehyung gently runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, tugging the ends with the slightest force needed to tilt his head to the side. The new position allows him to deepen the kiss as their mouths move together effortlessly. Taehyung��s lips are soft from the lip balm he always uses after a shower. It tastes lightly of strawberries and cream and easily makes his lips glide over Jimin’s.

Being with Taehyung is always like this: easy. Love flows from him effortlessly, and Jimin takes takes takes. They don’t part until Jimin whimpers into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung pulls back slightly, just enough to give them space to catch their breath – as if Jimin could possibly be anything other than dizzy in such proximity to him.

Jimin can’t remember the last time they kissed like that. He can’t remember when they last kissed at all, aside from the (usually) innocent little kisses Taehyung likes to cover him with. Rarely is it that Jimin’s cheeks, forehead, and nose escape Taehyung’s kisses. Physical intimacy was once a love language they both shared.

Eventually, Jimin became distant. And Taehyung, sweet Taehyung, never pushed him even though it meant little to no intimacy with the love of his life.

All the more reason for Taehyung to find someone new.

“I love you so much.”

Taehyung's whispers are the crackle of embers simmering in a fireplace. Jimin can taste their smokiness on his lips if he concentrates hard enough on his words and less on how scared he is that Taehyung will touch the ugly parts of him.

When Taehyung leans further back, Jimin’s startled to see a small, sad smile tugging at his mouth.

“Do you not love me anymore, Jimin?”

“W-what?” Jimin swallows around the lump forming in his throat, apprehension building inside him.

He watches with bright, glossy eyes as Taehyung reaches out to skim his fingertips along his jaw. It tickles as Taehyung starts just below his ear and glides like a ghost along the sharp edge until he reaches the curve of Jimin’s chin.

“Just tell me,” Taehyung commands softly, pressing his thumb against Jimin’s plush bottom lip. He pulls down on it slightly, forcing Jimin’s lips to part. “Please.”

The answer is so obvious Jimin wants to scream. He wants to take Taehyung by the shoulders and shake him until his pretty hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed. How can Taehyung not know? How can Taehyung hover over Jimin, damp hair haloing his bent head, honey gold skin glowing in the soft bedroom lighting, and think that there could be a universe in which Jimin doesn’t love him?

Tears prickle at the corners of Jimin’s eyes as he struggles to maintain eye contact. His hands shake when he presses his palms against Taehyung’s cheeks, their arms interwoven like the rest of their bodies.

“Of course, I love you,” Jimin whispers.

Taehyung hums, leaning into Jimin’s touch. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Jimin repeats. He shouldn’t say what comes next, but he does. The confession tumbles out of him just as haphazardly as his confession in the elevator, though this one isn’t one Taehyung is familiar with. “I-I don’t deserve your love, Tae.”

Taehyung’s reaction is expected. His eyes fly open, hard and blazing, and a sharp wrinkle forms between his eyebrows.

“What did you just say?”

Jimin lets his hands fall from Taehyung’s face. He lowers his gaze and tries to turn away, but Taehyung grasps his chin to keep him in place. “I don’t deserve you.”

Tilting Jimin’s chin, Taehyung returns his thumb to Jimin’s mouth, this time pulling his bottom lip away to stop Jimin from chewing on it.

“You deserve even more than I could ever possibly give you, Park Jimin,” Taehyung murmurs.

The praise is too much for Jimin to bear. He wants to be defensive, to tell Taehyung that he’s being ridiculous. There can’t possibly be truth to what he says. He even opens his mouth to say so, but Taehyung’s lips lock with his before any self-deprecating words can come out.

It’s impossible not to fall into the trap of Taehyung’s sweet taste. All it takes is the slight pressure of Taehyung’s tongue swiping against his bottom lip for Jimin to melt completely. Parting his lips, he lets Taehyung lick at the inside of his mouth. Their tongues brush against each other before Taehyung bites Jimin’s plump bottom lip and tugs, sucking on it lightly before he finally lets go, only to dive back in to press an even more bruising kiss to Jimin’s lips. The words are unspoken, but Jimin feels them through the electricity that passes between their bodies: I love you, mine, mine, mine.

Jimin’s stomach flutters as he feels Taehyung’s hand slip beneath the fluffy folds of his towel and slide along his hip bone. His touch is cold compared to the heat of Jimin’s skin from being snuggled in the towel.

“It hurts me to hear you talk about yourself like that, jagi,” Taehyung’s voice cracks with emotion. He speaks against Jimin’s lips. “Please don’t say those things.”

Their eyes remain closed as they breathe in each other, the dizzying feeling of having Taehyung so close to him making Jimin need to hold onto something. He grips Taehyung’s biceps and relishes in the feel of the muscles flexing beneath his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologizes, meaning to say even more, but Taehyung hushes him because no apologies are needed. Only change – the promise to be kinder to himself. It’s something Taehyung practically begs of Jimin, and it seems like it should be so easy. Yet they’ve gone through this before.

“You are so beautiful, Chim,” Taehyung speaks into the air they breathe between them. “Not just your body, but your soul, too.”

Squirming at what feels like unearned praise, Jimin tries to scoot up the bed to get from under Taehyung. “Okay, Jesse McCartney.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to be serious here.” The biting words are paired with a lopsided grin as Taehyung stalks Jimin up the bed, his hands caging in Jimin’s head and his knees spreading Jimin’s thighs. “Let me appreciate my baby for a second, okay?”

“I would rather appreciate you,” Jimin mumbles.

“Ah, none of that. No diverting the attention away from yourself, Jimin-ssi.”

In response, Jimin lets out a shuddery breath when Taehyung traces his fingers along his inner thigh. It’s a sound that Taehyung notices because they’re both in tune with each other’s bodies. It scares Jimin sometimes, even as delicious as it is when Taehyung uses that connection to touch all the right spots to light Jimin up. Taking advantage of how Jimin’s eyes have fluttered shut, Taehyung leans down to press a kiss at the corner of his jaw and then trails them, hot and open-mouthed, down Jimin’s neck.

“I don’t want to talk about me,” Jimin finally manages to get out, his voice nearly breaking when Taehyung dips his tongue into his collarbone.

“Talking about you is my favorite thing to do,” Taehyung gently scrapes his teeth against Jimin’s clavicle in a playful bite, “aside from kissing you. Loving you. Fucking you .” Taehyung whispers those last few words, and Jimin can feel him smirk against his skin when he shivers.

“Such vulgar language,” Jimin scolds, yet he loosens his grip on his towel to let it slide off his shoulders, exposing more skin for Taehyung to plant kisses against. Heat pulls in Jimin’s gut as Taehyung sucks a hickey on his throat. He throws his head back against the bed, long, pretty neck on display.

“Not vulgar, just honest.” Taehyung presses his finger to the underside of Jimin’s chin and gently coaxes him to turn his head in the opposite direction so he can have access to the other side of his neck to devour.

A quiet moan slips from Jimin’s plump, parted lips when Taehyung’s semi-hard cock brushes against his own. At some point, the rest of his towel fell away, and Jimin realizes he forgot how powerful Taehyung’s attention is. As long as Taehyung has been kissing him, he hasn’t thought about the self-conscious embarrassment of being naked.

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

“Let me worship you, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs. “You deserve to be worshiped. I’m so sorry I haven’t done a good enough job showing you just how divine you are. ‘Cause that’s what you are, love. Divine. Heavenly.”

“It’s not your–”

“Yes, it is. It’s my job to take care of you, just as you take care of me. And you do so well, baby. You’ve been there for me, even when it’s been hard for you. I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate you. So, please, let me show you?”

Taehyung watches Jimin with an intensity that makes Jimin feel like he’s flayed, raw, and waiting to be consumed. But, rather than feel scrutinized, Jimin feels safe under Taehyung’s undivided attention.

Waiting for Jimin’s response, Taehyung sits back on his heels, knees still spread with Jimin’s thighs resting on the outside of Taehyung’s. He rubs his thumbs along Jimin’s hip bones in a swirling pattern that gives Jimin something to ground himself in.

“I love you,” is Jimin’s response, and the lopsided grin returns to Taehyung’s face. He licks his lips and runs his palms flat against Jimin’s sides, gliding upward to his chest. When his thumbs brush Jimin’s nipples, Jimin lets out a little gasp that makes Taehyung’s grin widen.

“So sensitive,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He drags his hands down Jimin’s torso until they rest on his spread thighs. “Can I suck you off, jagi? Will you let me make you feel good?”

Instinctually, Jimin tenses his thighs and squeezes Taehyung’s legs. “Y-yes, please,” he whimpers.

“Always such good manners, hm, jagi? Such a well-behaved boy for me,” Taehyung praises as he lies between Jimin’s legs. He looks so pretty with his broad shoulders keeping Jimin spread open. The sight makes Jimin’s cock throb.

“Tae,” Jimin whines, hands flying up to cover his face. It’s been so long since they’ve been intimate, and Jimin has always been shy about sex. Dirty talk never fails to make his cock twitch and his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Hmm, baby? What was that?” Taehyung teases. He flicks his tongue against Jimin’s balls and releases an appreciative giggle when Jimin whines again.

“Stop teasing me.”

There is no denying that Taehyung has always given Jimin what he wants. It’s his weakness, his biggest character flaw. He can’t say no to the boy with fluffy blonde hair and pouty lips who looks at Taehyung with round eyes as Taehyung licks a stripe up his cock from the thick base to the wet tip.

“Anything for my soulmate,” Taehyung murmurs, his lips brushing against the head of Jimin’s cock, bottom lip sticking to the tip from the precum dribbling out. It’s beautifully sinful, filthy and loving, seeing Taehyung’s lips stretch around Jimin’s cock.

Taehyung suckles the head, massaging his tongue against the underside where the nerves are sensitive. More precum leaks from Jimin just as quickly as moans spill from his lips.

“Look at me,” Taehyung commands in a voice thick with lust. His tone makes goosebumps prickle across Jimin’s arms.

Raising up on his elbows slightly, Jimin watches as Taehyung slowly takes Jimin’s cock down his throat, his dark eyes never leaving Jimin’s. His mouth's warm, wet heat is enough to send Jimin’s head back as a loud, broken moan rips from his throat. A hard pinch to the inside of his thigh has Jimin snapping his head back up, just to see Taehyung narrow his eyes and hum as he begins to bob his head.

Look at me .

Jimin has to behave because he said he would, and Taehyung likes it when he does what he’s supposed to. So he keeps his hips flat on the bed and watches Taehyung take him all the way until his sharp, pretty nose presses against Jimin’s pelvis.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Taehyung groans as he takes a moment to breathe. “You have the most perfect cock, jagi. So thick and pretty.” Taehyung dips his tongue into Jimin’s slit, and Jimin thinks he might cum already.

Of course, Taehyung can tell. He’s teasing him on purpose, flicking his tongue against the tip of his cock repeatedly before suckling it, swirling his tongue around the ridge of the head. It’s maddening that he won’t take more of him into his mouth again, but Jimin knows Taehyung is trying to work him up.

“Please, Tae,” Jimin tries to beg, knowing it won’t work. All he receives in response is a devilish smile as Taehyung tilts his head to pepper Jimin’s cock with open-mouthed kisses.

“Pretty cock for a pretty boy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But you should know how pretty you are.” Pulling away from Jimin completely, Taehyung licks his lips free of precum and spit. “You’d look even prettier split open on my cock.”

“Taehyung!”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Groaning with both hands covering his face again, Jimin gently kicks Taehyung in the thigh when he kneels on the bed to reach for the bottle of lube neglected in their nightstand drawer. His hands remain on his burning face when Taehyung settles back between his legs and he hears the bottle cap open.

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung calls out. His voice is gentle, and when Jimin peeks through his fingers, he finds a soft look has replaced the dark lustfulness of Taehyung’s eyes.

“Yes?”

Something about Jimin’s straightforward response makes Taehyung chuckle. He shakes his head, making his slightly damp dark curls sway over his forehead. “I think we’re kind of horny.”

“Stop being nasty!” Jimin tries to kick him again, but Taehyung presses his hand to the inside of Jimin’s thigh.

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists with a laugh. “I just mean, I don’t want us to rush into this when our emotions were so high earlier. I want to make sure you are okay with this since it’s been a while, and you’ve been sad...”

It’s so sweet how Taehyung cares for Jimin. It may be unhealthy to think that there isn’t anything wrong with Taehyung, but Jimin truly believes it. Perhaps selflessness is his one red flag. Regardless, it hurts Jimin’s heart from how cared for he feels as Taehyung stares down at him with adoration that he still can’t believe he fully deserves.

One day, he thinks. One day, he’ll be convinced.

“Don’t make me say it,” Jimin complains with a pout and puppy eyes. It typically doesn’t work, but he tries it just in case.

“You must.”

“Why?”

“Consent is sexy, love.”

With a huff, Jimin spreads his thighs a bit wider and does his best to put on a brave face when he looks Taehyung directly in his eyes and says in his most polite tone, “I would like you to fuck me, please.”

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Jimin gives him another kick. “Hey! You better watch it.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle with nothing but love, and Jimin knows that despite his insecurities, his eyes sparkle like that, too.

Taehyung was right, though. They haven’t had sex in a while due to Jimin’s insecurities, and Jimin certainly hasn’t fingered himself recently. It’s evident in how tight Jimin is as Taehyung presses a lubed finger past his rim. It isn’t uncomfortable, but Jimin tenses anyway. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. Will he be too tight? Will he make Taehyung uncomfortable? What if they can’t have sex at all? What if it hurts Jimin? What if Taehyung thinks Jimin is being too difficult and gives up on him?

“Jagi, can you relax for me?” Taehyung is gentle when he pushes a second finger in. Jimin watches him pour a little more lube to help with the slide. “You’re doing so good, just lie back, okay? Let me take care of you.”

“Okay, okay,” Jimin rushes to say, dropping back onto the bed. He holds one leg to his chest while Taehyung pushes back the other with his free hand. “Can you keep talking to me?”

“Dirty talk? Like how badly I want to fuck you? How I was thinking about it all night during the party because you looked so sexy in that outfit, wearing my favorite jeans on you that make your ass look–”

“Oh my god, Taehyung.” Jimin smiles at the ceiling when he hears Taehyung chuckle.

“Is it working?”

It is, but Jimin doesn’t want to tell him that. Besides, Taehyung already knows it’s working; he has three fingers in and is applying light pressure to Jimin’s prostate. Jimin trembles as Taehyung massages his most sensitive spot. Even though it’s slow and barely much of a caress, Taehyung’s skillful fingers work Jimin into a whimpering mess, coaxing moan after moan out of him until the room is full of Taehyung’s name and the squelch of lube. Jimin’s free hand fists the bed sheets above his head to give himself some semblance of self-control when Taehyung reaches up to circle a lubed finger around Jimin’s perky nipple.

“Your nipples are so cute,” Taehyung muses, dragging his wet finger across Jimin’s chest to swirl around the other nipple.

Jimin tries to scoff, but instead, he moans when Taehyung pinches his nipple. “N-nipples aren’t c-cute,” he stammers.

“Yours are.”

“They look, oh fuck,” Taehyung leans forward to suck one of Jimin’s nipples as he continues tweaking the other, “T-the same as, ohh god, as yours, fuck.” Distracted, Jimin doesn’t tense when Taehyung slowly thrusts four fingers inside of him.

“So you think my nipples are cute?”

“Taehyung, please, I’ll cum,” Jimin hiccups, moisture gathering at his eyelashes. Taehyung’s teasing is too much for Jimin to handle. His thighs quiver uncontrollably, and his cock leaks onto his stomach as Taehyung massages his prostate with the slightest of touches.

Having mercy on him, Taehyung slowly removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to stroke his neglected cock. It hangs thick and heavy between his legs. Jimin can’t help but admire it as Taehyung applies a bit more lube, drizzling it directly onto his cock and hissing at the temperature. There are plenty of reasons for Jimin to adore Taehyung; his cock is most certainly on that list.

When Taehyung’s hand pauses its stroking, Jimin flits his eyes up to see a slight smirk playing on Taehyung’s lips.

“First, you were checking out my ass, now you’re checking out my dick.”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin tries to scold, but then Taehyung is pressing the fat head of his cock against Jimin’s rim, and suddenly he can’t seem to make his mouth form words. All he can do is let it hang open as Taehyung slowly pushes forward.

“Fuck, you open up so beautifully for me, jagi.” Taehyung squeezes the back of Jimin’s thigh and adjusts the angle to open him up better. He slides into Jimin slowly, mindful of any potential discomfort, though Jimin can tell by how Taehyung clenches his jaw that he’s just as affected as Jimin.

And, fuck, is Jimin affected. His arm gives out before Taehyung is even halfway in, and Taehyung has to throw Jimin’s legs over his shoulders because Jimin can’t hold himself open anymore.

“S-sorry,” Jimin moans, scrambling to hold onto the sheets when Taehyung lifts his hips to pull him the rest of the way onto his cock. His big hands squeeze Jimin’s hips, thumbs massaging Jimin’s stomach as he slowly begins to thrust into him.

“This okay?” Taehyung reaches out to brush a few strands of hair from Jimin’s face. His pace is slow but measured, each thrust hitting deep and sharp.

“S-so good, Tae, you feel so good,” Jimin babbles, his entire body pulsing with desire as Taehyung hits his prostate with every thrust.

“You deserve to feel good,” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s leg when he turns his head to the side to press a kiss there. “And all I want to do is make you feel good. For the rest of my life.”

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, blinking back tears. “Stop being so sweet. Go back to the dirty talk.”

Taehyung tosses his head back in a deep laugh that rumbles from his chest, and it makes Jimin feel good to have a partner he can cry and laugh with during sex.

Sex isn’t always so emotional with Taehyung. Sometimes, it’s sweaty and fast-paced, just skin slapping, scratches, and bruises. But tonight, Jimin has to hold himself back from crying as Taehyung whispers praises into his skin and rocks into him like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

This is the embarrassing part where Jimin starts telling Taehyung how much he loves his cock, how full he feels, how special Taehyung treats him. It does nothing to help with Taehyung’s ego, of course, for he just grins down at Jimin and caresses the side of his face, and tells him, “My cock was made for you, baby. Made to fill up your perfect little hole and make you cry my name so prettily.”

Taehyung’s thrusts are intentional; neither of them will last very long, and Taehyung knows that. He purposefully focuses on Jimin’s pleasure, fucking into him at the perfect angle. There’s something tender about how he places his right hand on Jimin’s lower stomach and presses down slightly. The pressure forces Jimin to relax his muscles while heightening the feeling of Taehyung’s cock diving deeper inside him with each snap of Taehyung’s hips. Years of being in a relationship have given Taehyung the time to learn Jimin’s body, but Taehyung’s care for Jimin makes him know his body.

Even though Jimin hates his body more often than not, he can’t deny that Taehyung treats it with so much care that sometimes he thinks he can see the beauty Taehyung sees. Taehyung makes him beautiful.

“God, you’re incredible, baby,” Taehyung says after he inhales sharply. “You take me so well, make me feel so good.” It’s hot how he looks down at where they meet as if he’s seeing them connected for the first time.

Jimin feels lightheaded as Taehyung praises him, each languid declaration of adoration and love matching the easy roll of Taehyung’s hips against his. He squeezes the bunched-up bed sheets in his fists even tighter and tilts his chin in a silent request.

Taehyung leans forward, pressing Jimin’s thighs against his chest to capture his lips in his own. They’re sloppier this time, Taehyung drawing Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and sucking it at the same smooth pace he’s fucking him.

“I’m close,” Jimin gasps, quickly letting go of the bed with one hand to reach for his cock.

“No,” Taehyung swats at Jimin’s hand, grabbing his wrist and holding it against the bed, “I’ve got you, jagi. We’ll cum today, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He smears the precum leaking from Jimin’s tip down the length of his cock and begins to pump his fist at the same pace as he fucks into Jimin.

“Y-y-yess, please, Tae, I can, for you,” Jimin cries, and Taehyung has to hold him against the bed to stop his hips from bucking and throwing off Taehyung’s already slipping rhythm as he fucks them toward their release.

It’s hot, letting Taehyung jerk Jimin off as he fucks him. It allows Jimin to give in to the pleasure without having to concentrate on getting himself off. He can let his brain turn to static, white noise enveloping him as he cums all over his stomach and chest with a silent cry. His mouth falls open in a perfect O-shape, and every muscle in his body constricts.

The only sound that breaks through the static is Taehyung crying out his name in the sweetest of songs as he cums inside of him.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, his grip on Jimin’s waist bruising as he lazily fucks his cum into him, sliding all the way out to watch the thick head of his cock push it back inside. It’s messy and wet and makes Jimin’s legs shake, but he relishes the oversensitivity because it’s been too long since he’s been brave enough to share his body.

It isn’t until Taehyung fully pulls out that Jimin begins to cry. It doesn’t help that the sweet praises and whispered promises of care from Taehyung increase tenfold when he scoops Jimin up into his arms and cuddles him, cum and all, against his chest.

“Baby…”

“This is so embarrassing,” Jimin groans, frantically wiping away the hot tears sliding sideways down his face. “I swear, I’m not upset.” And he isn’t. There’s just… pressure inside his chest, and the longer Taehyung holds him in his arms, the less pressure he feels.

“Crying is natural,” Taehyung begins, dangerously close to turning into Therapist Taehyung, but the roughness of his after-sex voice makes it hard for Jimin to pay attention to much else.

Ignoring Taehyung’s comment, Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck as Taehyung runs his hands over his back. “Why are you so perfect?”

Taehyung snorts. “Perfection doesn’t exist.”

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Taehyung’s eyes. They’re no longer dark with lust, but the intensity of his love for Jimin will always be there.

“I thought you said I was perfect.”

“Oh, hush.” With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung crushes Jimin into his chest and swings his leg over his hip, sufficiently locking him into place. “You are the only form of perfection that exists. Is that better?”

Jimin doesn’t believe Taehyung, not entirely, not yet. But he smiles against Taehyung’s warm skin and thinks he will one day.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #vmin #taehyung x jimin #lmay

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simonsdoll · 1 year

Note

Life has given you me, a slutty lemon, and I’m gonna give you a fluffy ask. And some more later on probably

okay so, Simon, with an S/O who just wants to pamper him. Absolutely shower him in the love he deserves. But as we all know, Simon is closed off, my boy got the full extent of truama. So, maybe the S/O try’s to..slowly introduce him to all of the coddling and love they have to offer?

like, starting slowly by brushing his hair, Always making food for him, maybe cuddles every now and then?

You can make this in either a HC or a Drabble, whatever you feel is easiest or would suit this the best! I have no preference!

as always, feel free to dilute/take out any parts!

make sure not to stress about getting these done right away,I know that no matter how long it takes, it will turn out amazing <3

Have an amazing night my dear writer!

🍋-

brave love

Pairing: Ghost x fem!reader

Words: 900

Warnings: slight angst and fluff

Simon himself struggled to even tolerate being touched or even cuddled with in the beginning of the relationship. Hated and felt so much guilt when he would physically push you off him or even tell you to back off when you got too touchy. He was so touch averse and you knew not to push boundaries or make him uncomfortable. Forcing him to cuddle or scolding him for not wanting to would do more harm than good. That’s why when it came to affection Simon would just avoid it all together but the two of y’all are in a relationship so he can’t physically deny you any cuddles. He knew that’s what it came with when he agreed to the relationship.

Simon always dreaded the idea of having to come to terms that being distant and cold towards his partner won’t solve anything but it’s just hurtful towards them. He did some resentful thoughts towards you when he would reflect on yalls relationship. How easy it was for you to give and receive affection without feeling disgusting or averted by it. Feeling often a bit jealous and guilty when going out to gatherings with your friends, how other people could give you what he can’t for the life of him give you. They could give you endless affection and all the sweetest of words in the world but he couldn’t give it to you. Well atleast not now.

The only way to get Simon to open up to affection was by taking things slow and gentle with him. He went a long way just to let you in his life. To be patient with him and show him you aren’t going to sabotage him or make him distrust you was the way to go. He loves you more than anything he has ever had in years. And to have someone so loving as you and willingly wanting to help him from being so closed off and distant meant the word to him.

It starts off with very small gestures that he typically does on his own. After taking a shower you would kindly offer to brush his hair for him and he looked at you with utter fear that you could be just trying to catch him off guard but with a deep sigh he nodded and he bent down hands on his knees and let you brush it for him. You made sure to it gently and quickly because Simon gets overwhelmed very easily. Once finished you placed the brush down and gifted him a warm smile and a joyful look on your face. It was a small gesture to you yet for him it was something so out of the norm and Simon didn’t regret it. He felt a bit proud he let you do such a task.

Also making him his comfort food when he looks stressed or overwhelmed made him realize you always try to get him to cheer up the best way you could. If it wasn’t cuddles or positive words of affirmation it was his favorite yummy food waiting for him every time he had a breakdown. He loved how you could read him like a book from just a few actions or no words at all. Offering him to eat the foods he loves in hopes of winning a smile or smirk from him. He overthought all the things he had done to drive you away from him and to just leave him alone all together yet here you were sitting beside him, smiling and giggling telling him about something funny you saw. He wasn’t sure what it was but something clicked inside him and telling himself that he was finally comfortable around you. That those small gestures were out of love not from pity.

As time passed, you were more patient and tender with him and had much more to offer him and it honestly made him more trustful and less on edge when around you. He would slowly open up more and miraculously asked you out of the blue for a hug in which you carefully and barely held onto him to make sure you didn’t push it. He noticed your hesitance when hugging him and he grabbed your arms to hug him tighter signaling you that it was ok to hug him. He hugged you tightly while hiding his face in the crook of your neck. It lit up your eyes and made you feel a bit emotional because it showed he finally trusted you and all the time spent offering your love and care to him was finally worth it.

From that day on, Simon let you hug him and even cuddle him when he knew he wouldn’t want it but you proved to him that it was ok to feel the warmth and tenderness of someone else’s touch. That when someone wanted to come close it wasn’t just to hurt you or anguish you. That you were there to pamper and make life out of every little moment you had with Simon. Because there was more to feeling hurt and riddled by your past. That Simon could finally move on from the dreadful and horrible things from his past keeping him from giving you the stuff he so badly wants to give you. He finally felt comfort in your touch and presence to allow him to no longer feel averted by any shows of affection by you. He was brave enough to let you in and let you pamper and give him all the affection he craved and yearned for many years.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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existingonthisplane · 1 year

Text

The party playing truth or dare and Dustin, in his utterly unhinged era, decides to give someone a fake dating dare.

Realizes that Will, to his knowledge, is the only one who hasn’t dated.

Him and Lucas are already in relationships and El is Will’s sister so absolutely not.

Decides it’s up to their good pal Michael.

“My dearest buddy, Mike-“

And Mike tenses immediately cause Dustin’s got that tone he uses when he’s a little too excited about an idea. So Mike is just sitting there staring nervously.

And Dustin is like “I dare you to date Will for a week! Our boy deserves a good time.”

Will’s eyes widening comically large at the statement and Mike looks like he just got dunked in cold water.

“If he’s okay with it of course” Dustin adds on quickly at the end. Noticing Mike and Will’s reaction.

“I’m not sure about that one, man” Lucas pipes in adjusting his position next to Max so she can lean on him more comfortably.

“Fake dating? Isn’t that just normal dating?” El says, confusion thick in her voice turning towards Max who’s hand she’s holding.

“It’s stupid that’s what it is. But I guess it works for a dare? Not sure if I’d pick Wheeler of all people.” Max throws in lifting her head off of Lucas’s shoulder and shaking it.

“Doesn’t matter what you think Max, it’s about Will. So,” Dustin turns back facing Will again,”what’ll it be?”

And the whole group just turns towards him waiting for an answer, save for Mike who looks like he’s trying to remember how to function.

Will just starts stammering not really sure what to make of this at all. Of course Dustin would dare the ONE person who Will would actually like to date if that was possible.

Dustin hearing the lack of replies would go on to explain a little further how Mike is honestly the perfect candidate which Will honestly can’t argue with the logic of it because going from Dustin’s perspective Mike is Will’s best friend, hanging out regularly is already something they do and they like a lot of the same things.

It wouldn’t be that different from how they are now, Dustin honestly just wants Mike to hold Will’s hand and take him on like date nights or something? “Give him the experience” as he put it so lovingly.

“I mean, I guess I’m okay with it. It’s just a dare and this is honestly the closest I’ll get to actually dating someone since I’m not all that interested.” Will says, a little cautiously. If his friends read into it a bit they don’t say anything.

Mike is very very quiet still and it’s a little concerning so Will looks over at him. Trying to check in with his eyes. Mike looks far away though, lost in thought. At least his face doesn’t look like he’s in agony, he’s just blushing? A lot actually.

“Well I need you to know. I’m not going to dare him if you don’t want to.” Will looks back over to Dustin who’s got his eyebrow arched.

Dustin glances back over at Mike and Will realizes that they’re both thinking the same thing of giving Mike an out. If Will says no, then Mike is spared. All they need Mike to do is actually look and give that signal that he’s uncomfortable.

Mike glances up at Will. Probably because he could feel the eyes on him.

“So are you sure Will?” Dustin repeats, more for Mike’s sake than Will’s at this point.

Mike’s gaze is steady and something determined flits between his eyes. Will’s pretty sure his face is on fire.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, yes I’m sure.”

“Sick! Okay Wheeler, I dare you to date Will for a week! I want you to pull out all the stops too! Full blown dates, pay for his meals!!! Tell him he’s the cutest guy you’ve seen or something! No holding any punches, got it?” Dustin rattles off like he’d been planning it the whole time.

“What happens if he doesn’t pull all the stops out?” El asks from behind him.

“Oh right! If you don’t complete the dare in a satisfactory way you’ve got to read the whole party that one poem you absolutely refuse to let any of us see.”

A collective gasp rings across the room. Not even Will had seen that supposed poem! They’re not even sure if it exists. These are high stakes here.

Mike makes a face that’s got too many emotions to decipher though but Will thinks it makes him look constipated.

“You wouldn’t-“ Mike starts

“Oh but I would. And I did. So what’ll it be Wheeler?”

“Fine! Not like I was going to chicken out anyways. I’ll be the best god damn boyfriend any of you people have ever seen.” Mike says. Cheeks puffing out in annoyance.

“I’m not sure about that one considering your track record” El mumbles but everyone still hears.

Max starts cackling and Lucas has a fist covering his mouth looking away to keep from laughing himself.

Dustin has doubled over at the comment and Will is trying and failing severely to keep it together.

“El!!” Mike shouts, face a whole new shade of red and El just shrugs in reply.

Mike turns towards Will, betrayal written over his features and Will thinks it’s cute, mouthing a quick “sorry” though his laughter.

Mike rolls his eyes, plopping down next to him and leaning near his ear.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing considering I’m yours for a week now.”

That sobers Will up almost instantly. Mouth clinking shut before he turns his face towards his best friend in disbelief. Their noses brush at the movement and Will makes the weakest effort in existence to move back to give some space.

He goes to reply when Dustin pipes in with a quick

“You guys getting started already? Damn, I guess he was serious.”

The room is back to laughing eventually dissolving into regular conversation. Mike smiles quickly at Will before looking back at his friends joining in leaving Will reeling.

Will’s face is red for the rest of the night.

#byler #byler ficlet #byler fanfiction #byler fanfic #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #this takes place like late highschool or college I’d assume?#very subtle elumax #elumax #they’re together here and you can’t convince me otherwise #even if it’s just Elmax and Lumax and then platonic LuEl #personally I’m partial to them all liking each other though on all sides but that’s just me

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gunilslaugh · 9 months

Text

Treat You Right

Oh Seungmin

Summary: How could you be so blind to not see that Seungmin was the one who treated you right all this time?

WC:~1.4k

Warning:grammar

photo not mine credits to owner.

“Do I have a sign that says ‘cheat on me’ on my back?” You asked Seungmin once you returned to your shared apartment together. Seungmin and you have been friends for quite a few years now. The both of you moved in together three years ago. Over the course of those three years Seungmin has unfortunately been there to witness your heart getting broken over and over again. He’s always been the best at comforting you. He’ll hold you till your tears stop, share a tub of ice cream with you and watch whatever movie you wanted. Tells you that if you want him too he will go beat the guy into a pulp.

“No,” Seungmin answers, slightly confused.

“Then why did I get cheated on again? That’s twice in a row. There must actually be something wrong with me. Maybe I’m not a good person to be in a relationship with,” you began to ramble, sinking onto the couch. You flopped over, conveniently landing your head in Seungmin’s lap.

“What’s wrong with you is your taste in men,” Seungmin stated as he ran a hand through your hair.

“I- uh,” you weren’t expecting Seungmin to say that. “What do you mean?” You sat up from Seungmin’s lap and turned to face him.

“Have you seriously not picked up on that all the guys you date are some grade of asshole?” Seungmin points out. Were they? You took a moment to look back on your exes. Seungmin was right, all of them did turn out to be a certain degree level jerk.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” You scold him.

“I tried too, but you would insist that they weren’t actually like that. They were just a ‘little rough around the edges.’ That I shouldn’t be so quick to judge them.” he quotes your words. You went silent. How could you be so blind to all of this? It felt like you just received a very late wakeup call.

“I’m so stupid!” You groaned, falling back into Seungmin’s lap. Seungmin’s hands patted your head.

“There, there. Now do you want to rant about how horrible your ex is now or should we do that over ice cream?” He questions.

“Ice cream. Lots of ice cream,” you replied. At your words Seungmin got up and walked over to the freezer. He grabbed the tub of ice cream and two spoons then returned back to the couch. He handed you a spoon and thanked him.

“Alright, tell me all about it,” Seungmin said after removing the lid to the ice cream. Your rant over your awful cheating ex comensed.

A half tub of ice cream later you were feeling a lot better.

“Thank you Seungmin. You’re the best,” you told him after you finished your ranting.

“You know that I’m always here for you y/n,” he said as he stood up to put the ice cream away and wash the spoons. You thought about his words as he walked off to the kitchen. They were true, Seungmin was always there for you. In happy times, sad times, angry times, all of them. Seungmin always found a way to be there. Seungmin as the complete opposite of your exes. Maybe it’s time that you start seeing him in a new light.

Over the next couple of days you began to realize that maybe you had been taking the way Seungmin treated you for granted. Thanks to this new light you were able to note things that you didn’t think much of or notice before. For example, Seungmin walks on the side of the sidewalk by the street. He will switch positions with you if you were originally on the side by the street. He knows all your favorite drink orders, foods, snacks and he will buy them for you, sometimes simply just because he wants to. He always opens doors for you too. If you’re in a crowded space he keeps a hand on your lower back or arm. You’re the first person he tells all his news to, no matter how big or small it is he wants to share it with you first.

It’s been two months since you started seeing Seungmin under a new light. It’s been one week since you realized that you like him romantically. Today was your friend’s birthday and you went for a few drinks to celebrate. It’s safe to say you ended up having a little too much to drink, so you had to call Seungmin to come pick you up.

“Seungmin!” You said happily once he answered the call. “Can you come pick me up?” You asked him. Seungmin could tell by the sound of your voice that you were drunk.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere,” he tells you.

“Ok,” you replied. Seungmin laughed at how obedient you sounded.

Seungmin arrived soon after and being the kind soul that he is he also gave your friends a ride home.

“Y/n, you hold on to that one he’s a good one,” your friend drunkenly told you as they exited the car.

“I know, I’m gonna keep him with me forever,” you proclaimed, leaning over to hug Seungmin’s arm. Seingmin knew you were drunk but your words and actions made his heart skip a beat. Thought maybe you finally realized that he has been right in front of you all along.

After dropping off your friend the two of you got back to your apartment. Seungmin helped you with your shoes. Once he got you into bed he wished you goodnight and turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm, halting him.

“You treat me better than all my exes combined, you know,” you mumbled out.

“Y/n go to sleep. We can talk in the morning,” he goes to pull your hand from his arm.

“No, no I’m serious. I don’t know how stupid I was or what rock I was living under to see that the perfect boyfriend has been right beside me,” you continued.

“You’re drunk, just go to bed,” Seungmin doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I’m moderately tipsy. I would say all of this sober if I had the courage,” you factually stated.

“Then tell me tomorrow when you are sober,” he told you.

“But-” you started.

“No buts. Time for bed,” he places your arm back under the cover, re-tucking you into bed. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he says before leaving you.

The morning came and your head hurt. This is why I shouldn’t drink you thought. You got out of bed walking sluggishly to the kitchen. Seungmin was already awake and making the two of you breakfast.

“I put painkillers on the table for you,” he tells you once he notices your presence.

“Thank you,” you say, walking over to the table to take them. After taking them you sat at the table. Memories of last night started filling your mind. “I don’t know how stupid I was or what rock I was living under to see that the perfect boyfriend has been right beside me,” you remembered your somewhat drunkenly confession to Seungmin. You felt flushed as your cheeks reddened with embarrassment. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, but that’s definitely not how you wanted to tell Seungmin.

Seungmin comes over with plates in hand, setting them on the table.

“About last night,” you began to talk.

“Don’t worry about it, you were drunk,” Seungmin responds.

“No, what I said was true. I don’t know why I never noticed I had the perfect one for me right beside me all these years. You are better than all my exes combined too. Everything I said last night was true,” you admitted.

“Are you being serious right now?” Seungmin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Why would I joke about this?” You answered.

“You have no clue how hard it was all these years for me to see you be with asshole after asshole. I wanted nothing more than to be the one to treat you right,” Seungmin reveals.

“Then do you still want to be?” You checked.

“More than anything,” he answered sincerely.

“Then be the one and let me treat you right too. I’ve realized that I’ve kinda been taking you for granted in the past,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as I get to be with you now,” Seungmin states, taking a loving hold of your hand. You smiled and scooted your chair closer, so that you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go on a date later,” you suggested and Seungmin couldn’t be happier, neither could you.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh seungmin #xh o.de #oh seungmin x reader #o.de x reader #oh seungmin #o.de

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aristrocrat · 2 years

Text

Upside Down Feelings II

Chapter Three: The Pollywog

summary: Y/N wakes up in the same bed as Steve and suddenly finds that he has deemed himself one of her best friends. And Y/N goes back to Eddie’s and things become realllll

word count: 3020

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader ENDGAME, Eddie Munson x Reader

a/n: IF YOU WANT TO RANT TO COMMUNITY ABOUT THE TRAUMATIC EVENTS THE DUFFER BROTHERS HAVE BESTOWS UPON US, COME JOIN MY DISCORD SERVER!! (link at the bottom) also surpiseeee i felt like you guys deserved one last episode before my hiatus! see you july 11th!!

You felt yourself wake up gently to the sound of a beating heart with warmth radiating from around you. Without opening your eyes, you nuzzled further into the source of comfort, feeling at its arms wrapped tighter around you and it groaned sleepily.

It only occurred to you whose arms and groan they could’ve belonged to.

You snapped your eyes open to reveal Steve breathing peacefully under you with his limbs tangled up in yours. You sat up, quickly unraveling yourself from your previous intertwined position. He scrunched his nose as his arms searched for the missing pressure and warmth that you provided him.

You looked over at the time and sighed with relief, realizing you still had two hours before you had to be at school.

“Steve,” You whispered, shaking his shoulder.

“Mm, five more minutes,” He grumbled sleepily, reaching out for you and pulling you into his chest. “Mm’ comfy.”

“Steve, let go,” You hissed pushing yourself off of him. That woke him up. He sat up and looked around the room before looking down at his clothes. “You need to leave.”

“Oh, shit. We didn’t..” His eyes widened. “Did we?”

“Ew! No! I just let you sleep here until you were sober enough to drive yourself home,” You scoffed. “You need to leave. My mom’s going to wake up any minute.”

“Okay, was the ew really necessary?” He bit back, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before looking around at his surroundings. “So last night’s party wasn’t just some fucked up dream, huh?”

“I wish I could say it was,” You pursed your lips. “Look, I need to get ready early. I have to pack my tools and ride my bike up to the school to fix my car before school starts, so-“

“Oh, I can give you a ride,” He shook his head “Get ready. I’ll go home and do the same then I can come pick you up later.”

“What? No way. I’m not riding in the same car as Nancy,” You crossed your arms. “I’ll stick to my bike, thank you very much.”

“Oh, relax. I’m not taking her to school after her little bullshit speech last night,” He dismissed, crawling over you to get off of your bed. “S’cuse me.”

He lazily grabbed his costume from the night before, placing them on your bed before he peeled off the hoodie you’d let him borrow. You were grateful for his slothful motions, as it gave you a few seconds to gawk at his body. He was beautiful. His abs lightly adorned his lean torso and his arms flexed enough to show off the same type of definition. You quickly looked away before his head popped out of the top of the hoodie.

“Toss me my shirt, would ya?”

You did as told, keeping your gaze lowered, acting as if you hadn’t totally violated his privacy the moment before. He narrowed his eyes as he watched your face flush.

“Were you-“

“Y/N, you’ll never believe what I - AHH- OH MY GOD!” Dustin yelped, covering his eyes when he saw the half naked boy in your room. “WHAT THE HELL? I thought he was just sleeping here?!”

“No!” You ran up to him. “Dustin, no, no, no! It’s not what it looks like!”

“First Eddie and now Nancy’s BOYFRIEND?!”

“Hold on- Eddie?” Steve chuckled. “Like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”

“Hey, watch your damn mouth if you wanna keep those teeth, Harrington,” You snapped before looking back at your little brother. “No, not Nancy’s boyfriend. Just Eddie. Steve was just changing out of the clothes I let him sleep in. It’s not like that! I swear!”

“Okay, then spit swear on it,” Dustin said.

“Ew, I don’t wanna-“

“It’s the ultimate test of honesty, Y/N. Spit swear or I tell Mom!” He threatened.

“… You wouldn’t-“

“MO-“ Your hand slapped on his mouth, making a popping noise. “Mmm!”

“Jesus, fine!” You shushed, reluctantly spitting into your palm and watching him do the same. You gagged as soon as your hands connected. He finally relaxes a bit before looking over at Steve.

“I’m watching you, Harrington,” He warned, maintaining eye contact with the shirtless boy until he left the room. You sighed, following behind him to wash your hands in your shared bathroom before reentering your room.

“Well, that was chaotic,” Steve muttered, folding up the clothes you’d let him borrow onto your bed.

“Yeah, well, not all of us were fortunate enough to be only children,” You shrugged. “You really should go. If that was Dustin’s reaction, I’d hate to see how my mom’s. I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Hour and a half,” He corrected. You rolled your eyes. “What? Do you see my hair? This is going to need an hour in and of itself. I got a reputation to uphold.”

“Why am I even surprised at this point?” You scoffed, ignoring the fact that you actually kinda liked the way his messy hair fell into his eyes. You almost preferred him in this state. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“On it.”

———

“Harrington, right?” Billy grunted as Steve threw himself back as Billy played defense in their practice run of basketball. “I heard you’re dating the prettiest girl in school. That true? King Steve bagged Nancy Wheeler and has her hot, car-lovin’ friend whipped too, huh? Can’t have ‘em both, buddy. Which one you gonna let me have?”

“Hey, maybe you should just shut the fuck up and play the game,” Steve looked back for a moment before Billy took the opportunity to trip him and take the ball before scoring a point for his own team.

“Steve!” He heard an all too familiar voice call.

———

“Y/N!” Nancy shouted as you walked out of the school. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Nancy, just walk away,” Jonathan said as he followed behind her.

“Yes, and I’m avoiding you,” You picked up your pace towards your car. “It’s called the silent treatment. Look it up.”

“Why are people telling me that you left with Steve last night? And that they saw his car at your house until this morning?” She jogged to catch up with you before grabbing your arm and yanking you back. It took everything inside of you not to knock her lights out. “Is there something I should know about?”

“First of all, let me go,” You hissed, pulling your arm out of her grasp. “Second of all, not that you even deserve an explanation with the way you’re acting, nothing happened. He dragged me out of the party to talk about what you accidentally let slip out. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so I let him crash at my place.”

“Oh, so now you’re accusing me of not loving him too?” She scoffed. “Typical. You two always gang up-“

“Do you?” You raised your brows, taking her aback at the question. “Love him, I mean. Hm? Because you might have him fooled, Nance, but I know you. I saw the way you looked at him and heard the way you talked about him in the beginning stages of your relationship and it’s not-“

“So what? You just went off and told him all this behind my back?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I fucking defended you,” You scoffed. “I told him that you were just drunk and didn’t mean any of it. I might still be mad at you, but I didn’t want to see your dumbass get dumped. He’s a good guy. Annoying and air-headed maybe, but good… Nance, you should’ve seen the way he was crying over you. He really does love you. He deserves a better breakup, one with an explanation. Or at least an apology-“

“Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that,” She muttered.

“No, it’s not!” You urged. “Why not just tell him that you love him so this can all be over-“

“Because I don’t know if I do!” She interrupted. “I don’t know.. Everything changed after Barb. Including my feelings for Steve.“

“Then tell him that, Nancy. Let him know it wasn’t his fault and you still love and respect him, you just can’t love him in the way he deserves to be loved or some bullshit like that!”

“Why are you so concerned about him anyway?” She crossed her arms.

“Because that annoying son of a bitch grew on me,” You grumbled. “And you both deserve better than the bullshit you’re putting each other through.”

She stayed silent for a moment, finally taking in your words before her face softened. The tone shifted in your own friendship after Barb’s death and The Big Argument of 1983. Though you still loved her, the respect you once held for this girl wavered. Outside of school, you spent most of your time these days with Robin, Eddie, or Jonathan. And every time you would be around Nancy, you and Jonathan were forced to watch her and Steve all but fuck in front of your very eyes. It just wasn’t what it once was.

“Look, Nance, I only have an hour to fix that Bronco, so I-“

“Why are you still so mad at me?” She asked genuinely.

“Because you’re being a shitty friend, Nance,” You blinked. “I don’t know. Maybe we deserve better too…”

You pursed your lips as her fell open before you shook your head and walked away, leaving her standing in shock as Jonathan comforted her.

———

“Hey,” Steve tossed his backpack on the ground before leaning against the locker beside yours. “You got time to talk?”

“Busy,” You muttered. He blinked in confusion.

“You don’t look very busy,” He frowned as you gathered your things from your locker.

“Too busy to care about whatever relationship blues you’re about to hit me with.”

“What? What happened to being friends?” He frowned.

“You broke up with the girl that made us friends by default,” You shrugged, grabbing the last of your books and placing it in your backpack.

“Oh?” He challenged. “I wasn’t aware that friends-by-default wipe tears and sleep in the same bed.”

“SHHH! Jesus, Harrington. Say it a little louder, I don’t think the deaf man in Europe quite caught what you said,” You snapped. “Don’t you have any other friends you could talk to?”

“Not really,” He pursed his lips. You gave him unconvinced look. “Not anyone who knows the whole story! Look, fifteen minutes. Just let me rant for fifteen minutes and then you can go back to fixing the Bronco.”

“I had to call a tow service,” You sighed. “That baby won’t be running for at least another three days. So I asked-“

“Oh, well, that’s perfect! I can just take you home,” He offered.

“I asked Eddie to take me home,” You finished before smirking. “Also, last time you offered to take me home, you told Tommy and Carol that we slept together-“

“Oh, give me a break! I made up for that, and you know it,” He scolded, poking your shoulder and making you laugh. “Fine, look. At least let me walk you out there. I just need five minutes of your time.”

“You have the eagerness of those door-to-door Bible salesmen,” You rolled your eyes as you shut your locker. “Tell you what; let’s meet up tomorrow and talk about it all. I’ll even help you come up with a plan to win her back, if that’s what you want. But right now, I really have to get going, okay?”

He groaned with exaggerated disappointment.

“Deal?” You giggled, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He looked down at it before sighing and shaking it halfheartedly.

“Fine,” He muttered. “Go.”

You smiled, letting go before making your way towards the exit, sending him a small wave before you broke through the doors to the parking lot. You weaved your way through the crowd of people and stampede of cars before you finally stumbled upon Eddie’s van.

“There’s my favorite girl!” He called from behind you as he approached from the school. You smiled, feeling a warm sensation arise in your chest with a tickle in your stomach. Then he reached right past you, placing a small kiss on the van before looking over at your with a smirk. “And hello to you, too.”

“Asshole,” You laughed as you turned around to walk towards the passenger’s seat. He grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. Eddie bit his lip lightly, eyeing you with adoration before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m kidding,” He said in a sing song tone, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head and pulling away to walk you to your side of the van. He paused before opening your door, shooting you a sincere smile. “M’lady.”

“Thank you, sir,” You grinned before he shut the door and jogged over to the driver’s side. You turned to him with a smile. “So I stole Dustin’s Return of the Jedi VHS. Wanna watch it and pig out on snacks?”

“You little minx,” He smirked. “You know just the way into my heart.”

———

“That’s the most iconic line in movie history!” You argued, moving some things aside so that you could hop on the counter and watch him make his sandwich. “Only Han Solo would respond with I know after someone confessed their love. I would probably do the same.”

“You would tell someone I know after they profess their love to you?” He chuckled, glancing up for a moment before returning his gaze to spreading the mayonnaise on the bread. “That’s just cruel!”

“Wh- Not really though,” You shrugged. He gave you an unconvinced look, scrunched nose and all. This boy gave you such cuteness aggression. “Hear me out, I am unable to fall in love. But I’m not, like, a complete bitch about it! I politely let my boyfriends and lovers know that I’m incapable of falling in love. How they wish to proceed is up to them.”

“Boyfriends and lovers? Plural?” He teased. “Jesus, Y/N. How many of us are there?”

“Just you,” You laughed. “I was referring to past boyfriends and lovers.”

“Oh? Just me?” His eyebrows shot up as he set down the sandwich-making gear to give you his full attention. He bit his lip to refrain from grinning like a love-struck idiot before he stepped in front of you, placing his palms on the counter. You were now completely imprisoned by his arms. “So what does that make me? Just a lover or a boyfriend?”

“Hm,” You played innocent, reaching out to play with the hem of his shirt. “Well, we do spend a lot of time together.”

“Mhm,” He hummed, dragging it out as he deeply looked into your eyes.

“And we spend most of that time acting like a couple anyway,” Your fingers finally made contact with the warm skin on his hips.

“That we do,” He agreed, nodding slowly.

Your cold hands made their way up his back with a ghost-like touch. One that made the hair on his arms stand upright as chills erupted through every nerve in his body.

“What do you wanna be?” You asked softly as he close gravitated closer to you.

He’s been dying to have this conversation with you. Eddie has been fond of you since you were children playing with tin foil swords around the trailer park. He loved that you never judged him. He loved that you matched his energy. And he loved that you always found comfort in him. It wasn’t until high school that he officially caught feelings for you, however. He was two years your senior, so he never even considered the possibility of liking you until you showed up with that lovable brother of yours to a D&D tournament.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He found every excuse to keep you around after the tournaments. Hell, he even started hosting D&D tournaments for your brother and his friends just for the opportunity to be near you. He liked the way you blushed when he complimented you or touched you. He loved talking to you; sometimes he would just sit silently and admire the way you spoke about things that you were passionate about. And he absolutely adored kissing you; it was as thrilling and electric as playing guitar to a crowd full of people. So what if you couldn’t admit to yourself that you were able to fall in love? At least he’d get the perks of everything else.

“Yours” He breathed without hesitation, as if every fiber in his being was exhausted from holding back his explosive excitement. His lips were now only mere centimeters away from your own.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” You smiled, making him chuckle before he pulled you in by your hips. He finally pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

God, you were more addictive than those smelly Marlboros he liked to smoke when you weren’t around. Every kiss was like he was getting his fix, but every other moment that your lips weren’t on his, it was all he could think about. He knew you felt it too.

And you did. You were willing to break your no dating rule for this boy. You were willing to put yourself in a position that could potentially lead to heartbreak. But you didn’t care, you needed your fix, too. And this way, you didn’t need to worry about any other girls asking for those sacred kisses. This way, they were reserved just for the two of you.

“Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?” He asked between kisses.

“Mhm,” You hummed happily. “And I can call you my boyfriend.”

“Jesus, if you keep saying that, I’ll cum before I even get to the bed,” He joked with a big smile. You both broke away to laugh. “What time do I need to get you home?”

“My mom thinks I’m staying at Nancy’s,” You smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

CHAPTER 4 & 5 ->

———

PLEASE CHECK IN EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, AND FRIDAY AT 9:00 PM CTD FOR NEW CHAPTERS! (taglist is now closed)

As always, please feel free to DM me or comment on my stories! I love to hear your feedback and interact with all of you!! Don’t forget to like and reblog, it really helps me out!

a/n: i had originally planned for the reader to have a casual fling with Eddie, but we all know he is so the type to fall for a fuck buddy. don’t worry, darlings. this is still a Steve fic, but this is important for the plot of their love story. also i fucking love and miss Eddie and this is helping me cope. SPEAKING OF COPING…

come join Scoops Ahoy Coworkers Discord server -> we offer group support for the traumatic events that unfolded in this last episode of season 4 and we like to simply talk about the series and other random things. let’s simp, cry, and scream together <3

@werewolfbanshee-love @reallysparklychaos @katsukiswrld @yashirawr @grfields s @001andeddiearetodiefor @thatmarvelchick19 @fixtionlover @idkwhyimhere013 @b3rrysoda @tpwkhollandd @dawnyboy @rexorangecouny @kimmchijjajang @efvyqrs @lou-la-lou @nycbaby21 @satsuri3su @agustdeeyaa @boisteroussquirrel @fangeekkk @persephonesnebula @starstruckspring @bbyharlow @edithsvoice @harrycanyonmoonn @sharkswithsocks @xm00nl1ght @okei888 @lqveharrington n @earthtostory @boobabietch @captainmarvelindisguise @astrumark @scoopsr0bin @hannahdoesstuff @homeofthepeculiar @potatoflavoured @binxy @ultrunning @azgucci @blogginjh @burdenedbliss @chervbs @lentil-s0up @ameliabs-world @mess-is-my-aesthetic @hopefulgardenerfun @mitchloveswriting

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #stranger things

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