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amorevolous-chionophile · 3 years

Text

Mommy

❆ Fluff ❆ 5,710 words ❆ dad!Hongjoong x babysitter!reader ❆

@soft-black-teabag is the precious mastermind behind this idea 💜

"Yes I understand... Yes... Yes I will be there." Hongjoong sighed as he hung up the call and mentally cursed. His boss called, saying that he has to jump in to fill a shift urgently to help, as his co-worker called in sick last minute, since he lacks work hours. He glanced to the living room to check up on the reason of his lacking work hours, his little princess and he couldn't help but smile as he saw her happily playing with her designer's kit for children which he somehow managed to afford for her birthday since she proclaimed that she wants to be just like her daddy. Since he was taking care of her alone, he had to miss shifts from time to time as there were instances where none of his friends could fill in for him. He prayed that this wasn't one of those times because his boss warned him that if he doesn't show up to work in two hours he will get fired and he couldn't lose that job. Hongjoong took on a great number of jobs through the years to have his little minion live a nice and happy life. He keeps each of his jobs for as long as the boss is tolerant enough of him being late or missing whole shifts. He hates that he gives them a hard time, but raising a child as a single parent isn't an easy job and he is trying his best, he really is. Hiring a babysitter was an option sure, but Hongjoong couldn't afford one and even if he could, there was no way that he would ever leave his precious child to a complete stranger. He sighed once more before tapping in the message to the group chat, there are seven of them, surely one of them is free, right?

Wooyoung was in the middle of a game when a notification rang, signaling that a message had arrived on his phone. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't in class and the notification didn't echo through the classroom. The college professor gave him a threatening look from above the rim of his glasses to what Wooyoung smiled nervously and pretended to move his phone back to his pocket before muting it and proceeding to read the message as soon as the professor looked away like nothing happened seconds ago. You eyed him judgingly from the seat next to him. "Wooyoung, you are going to get in trouble." Not that most professors at college care if you are on your phone, laptop, are you listening or not... But this one was a bit of a nitpicking pain that always says that you should respect the time which he is giving to you in order to gift you knowledge by at least listening. He always made it sound like he doesn't get any compensation for what he does, not like he gets paid. Wooyoung looked at you with the most offended face he could make. "Don't talk in class you'll get us in trouble." He put a finger to his lips and couldn't help but smile to what you rolled your eyes and smiled as well returning your attention to the professor as Wooyoung returned his gaze to his phone. He entered the group chat to find that everyone already responded. He scrolled to the first message to see what all that was about, just to find Hongjoong's panicked message about needing someone as fast as possible to look over his child. Wooyoung loved that child like he was her uncle, and not just him, all of the boys warmed up to that little ray of sunshine. As he scrolled he noticed that none of the other boys were available, for valid reasons and he mentally sighed as he had to tell Hongjoong that he wasn't either. Wooyoung: "I have a makeup exam. I must retake it, it's half of my mark. I'm really sorry." This time he audibly sighed. He had major respect for Hongjoong, the guy was torn on million sides, he sacrificed his college and his free time for the sake of his child. That's why he felt bad for not being able to do anything in this situation. Seonghwa: "Hongjoong, could you please reconsider all that about the babysitter?" Yunho: "Yes, please, if money is the problem we can help you with that." Hongjoong: "I know, but even if I agree, how can I get any babysitter to come in less than an hour? No worries guys, I'll just find another job." Wooyoung was too preoccupied with his phone and thoughts of how to help to notice the professor eyeing him suspiciously. You however noticed and nudged him to snap out of it or he won't even have the chance to take that makeup exam. He rapidly turned his head to you, his eyes widening and your face crunching from confusion. It was seconds before he returned his attention to his phone. Wooyoung: "I am a genius. I have solved all of your problems 😇" Yeosang: "This is gonna be good." Hongjoong: "?" Wooyoung: "Y/N!" Hongjoong: "Who?" San: "Oooh, nice!👍🏻👍🏻" Yeosang: "I am disappointed I am not disappointed with that answer. That is your first good idea since...ever." Jongho: "How come that idea never crossed our minds before." Mingi: "That would be so adorable to see. Just think of that cuteness duo!😸🥰" Hongjoong: "Guys, would you please concentrate and tell me who that is." You had to nudge Wooyoung again, stronger this time because he was visibly testing the professor's patience. "Wooyoung, leave that phone, the professor is giving you a death stare I think even the room temperature decreased." You whispered almost inaudibly to what he turned off his screen, nudged the phone to the side of his desk and shifted his gaze up smiling innocently to the professor. You couldn't help but pinch the bridge of your nose letting out a breathy laugh at his carefree attitude.

Hongjoong: "Wooyoung, who's y/n?" Seonghwa: "Seems like he's not here anymore." Jongho: "What... who leaves in a moment like that." San: "I think he and y/n have class with that ice drama queen professor." Yeosang: "He probably used all of his energy to come up with that idea, his system must have shut down." San: "Yeosang... Who hurt you young child?" Yeosang: "Whoever ate my fried chicken the last time we hung out." Mingi: "But why are you taking it out on Wooyoung when Yunho ate your chicken 😂" Yunho: "He. Didn't. Know. That." Mingi: "Oops, I didn't know that." Yeosang: "Well, it's only important that now I know that." Yunho: "🙃" Hongjoong: " G U Y S. I'm kinda running out of time here." Seonghwa: "You remember how we mentioned Wooyoung's neighbor that hung out with us probably every single time when you weren't there?" Hongjoong: "Oh yeah, I forgot her name, so y/n... I'm not so sure, how well do you guys know her?" Mingi: "Wooyoung knows her best since she was his neighbor and classmate from the very start of college." Jongho: "But since he's not here, your second best options are San, Yeosang and me. Well Yeosang and me." San: "Hey 🥺" Yeosang: "Yes, since we attend the same college we meet quite frequently so I assure you that she is a good choice." San: "Are you all ignoring me now 🥺" Jongho: " I strongly agree with Yeosang, not once did she leave a bad impression." San: "..." Hongjoong: "Well not like I have a choice at this point anyway." Seonghwa: "Since I sense that you are still unsure, I remember this one time when she got a call from her sister and had to leave to look after her nephews." Yunho: "So that means she knows with children. I mean you got a winning combo here." Hongjoong: "But I don't know, what if the two of them don't get along, what if something happens" Jongho: "I just wanna remind you that this was Wooyoung's idea to which even Yeosang agreed" Mingi: "I think that this is the first time something like this happened 😅" Seonghwa: "Come on Hongjoong, you know we love your child almost as much as you do. We would never propose something that would be potentially dangerous for her." Hongjoong: "Alright... Fine"

Finally, for what seemed ten times longer than the original ten minutes it should have lasted, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. You stretched your arms, still sitting down, while Wooyoung rapidly swiped trough his phone to catch up on the conversation that he missed, hoping to run into Hongjoong's agreement. You eyed him suspiciously when he jolted up with an excited "yes". You mirrored his actions and got up as well, gathering your stuff. "What happened, the makeup exam got postponed?" He let out a sad whining sound before gathering his stuff as well. "As if, not even in my dreams." He swung his backpack on his back and typed something in his phone excitedly. "Then what is..." Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and started speed walking towards the door and into the hallway, opposite of the direction of where his exam is supposed to be. "Wait Wooyoung, what is going on?" But you were not graced by any kind of answer in return. When you exited the building, you were even more puzzled to see Yeosang, San and Jongho there. Before you could ask again, Wooyoung went into medical commercial narrator mode. "So you remember how we mentioned our friend that has a rainbow sunshine pink sparkly precious child after who he looks after alone and that sometimes we fill in because he has to work and all. Well today we are all busy and if he doesn't go to work he will get fired and he really needs that job and he can't leave the child alone and so we thought that maybe, probably, eventually you could look after her because we don't have much time since he needs to go to work soon and pretty much we don't have any other option...please?" You blinked trying to process everything you just heard as Wooyoung grabbed your hand and shook it giving you the puppy dog eyes look. You closed your eyes trying to form a coherent question in return to all that. "Wha..." But San interrupted you, joining Wooyoung in the hand shaking puppy dog eyes squad. "Pleeease, the child is a sweetheart I swear. I promise you two will get along perfectly, and the cuteness oh God, you two will be the cutest duo ever." You shook your head, really trying to keep up with the both of them, looking around to find a spot to focus on in order to actually have a chance to think about the proposal, when you noticed Yeosang and Jongho standing on a greater distance from you than when they originally were, talking among themselves, pretending not to know you three. You couldn't blame them. "Wait you two, wait a second. I mean I am free now and I would love to help, but I am not sure about all this? To him I am a stranger and from what I have picked up from your stories he wouldn't leave his child with just anyone so I don't think he will agree to this. Also a child... I'm not sure, it's not the same as looking after my nephews." Wooyoung let go of your hand in order to swipe through his phone for a brief second before showing you a message of Hongjoong's agreement, more like shoving it in your face. "He already agreed, it's only left for you to agree so please." You almost winced from the frequency Wooyoung's voice managed to hit. You were kinda at a dead end in that moment. You had no reasons to refuse, not like you even wanted to refuse an opportunity to help someone in a tight situation so the answer was pretty obvious. "Okay, just tell me the address and..." Your proclamation was interrupted with Wooyoung and San squealing and, for the sake of their souls, let's say that those were manly squeals. They ran up to Yeosang and Jongho and excitedly announced that you have agreed before Wooyoung proceeded to run back to the college entrance in his style, shouting. "I'm late for the makeup exam, I will text you the address before I..." Was all you managed to hear before his voice became inaudible. "Wooyoung, I swear to God." You whispered in your chin before joining the remaining trio in order to say goodbye.

Hongjoong was running around his apartment, grabbing his necessities before a tiny voice called out to him. "Daddy?" The young girl was standing underneath the notably larger doorframe, questioningly tilting her head to the side. "You said you would stay home today." Her face welcomed a small pout. Hongjoong quickly squatted to her eye level, one hand on her shoulder, while the other caressed the crown of her head. "I know princess, but they called daddy to come today. I promise I will make it up to you." He smiled, hoping to reassure her. "I just miss you." She proclaimed sadly before wrapping her small arms around his neck. Saying that his heart shattered into million pieces would be an understatement. He sighed heavily and wrapped his hands around her, lifting her up. "I'm sorry it has to be this way." He said that more to himself before the melody of the doorbell filled the house. The girl looked in her dad's eyes with newfound interest. "Which uncle is coming today?" Hongjoong smiled nervously, not sure how to deliver the news and more importantly not knowing what the reaction will be. "About that..." He hesitated as he went towards the door with her still in his arms. "It's uncle Wooyoung's friend." He confessed, opening the door, not sure himself what to expect. What greeted him there was a warm, smiling figure, immediately putting him at ease. "Hello, I'm Wooyoung's classmate, y/n. It's nice to meet you Hongjoong." You gave a little wave before grinning to the little girl. "And this must be the princess I have heard so much about." The girl smiled in return, resting her head on her dad's shoulder, still a bit shy. "Hello." Hongjoong motioned you to enter before he closed the door behind you, a faint scent of his shampoo hitting you. "I should hurry now, thank you for coming on such short notice." You were in the process of taking off your shoes while you replied. "Don't worry, it's a pleasure to help." You rose back up stretching out your arms for Hongjoong to give the girl to you. "Oh there's no reason for that, she may be too heavy for you, besides she is daddy's big girl, she can walk." Hongjoong went to put her down, but to his surprise he ran into the girl's resentment, as she stretched her arms out to you in return. You smiled warmly and took the child in your arms, patting her back. "It's not a problem really." You reassured Hongjoong as you turned to the girl. "This way we can assist daddy together while he is getting ready for work, right?" The girl chimed happily in response. Hongjoong didn't notice or he didn't want to notice how his brain blocked all of his actions for a brief second wanting to absorb that moment and so he continued with tying his shoelaces a moment after as if nothing happened. Hongjoong was about to exit when you noticed a phone on the cupboard next to you, so you quickly stop him. "Hongjoong, I think you forgot your phone." He checked in all his pockets to check before he accepted the phone from you grasp and thanked you with a warm smile. "Daddy will be back before you know it princess, be nice to y/n." He bent down to plant a kiss on the girl's cheek, before her little hands grabbed his face and turned his head in order to do the same. The scene had you internally melting from all the cuteness. Hongjoong went out the door, and you trailed him standing on the doorframe. "Wave to daddy." You told the girl who shook her hand smiling from ear to ear, you copying her. There was it again, that moment that Hongjoong felt shoot through his heart and brain.

You caressed the girl's cheek before putting a blanket atop of her, snuggling her to sleep. You put the fairytale book you were reading her a bedtime story from on the shelf. You decided to leave the lamp on, just a bit more dimmed as you were not sure whether or not she was afraid of the dark. She fell asleep pretty quickly, and it was no wonder, for the whole day you were doing all kind of things together, playing pretend, fashion designer, telling stories, watching cartoons, eating. You tried to engage her in everything you could, you really gave it your all, and it was easy because she was indeed a pure angel child. You sat in the living room, lowering the volume of the tv in order to hear if she wakes up. You had time to peacefully look around the apartment which was an interesting fusion of an art and music studio, laced with the essence of a family home. You also noticed that the home was sparkly clean. You didn't know that that was Seonghwa's doing however. He was the last to babysit, just the day before you. He and the girl were playing fashion designer when Seonghwa made the grave mistake of commenting how she put too much glitter on a particular piece of clothing. Second after that he had a child proclaiming that he shouldn't question her fashion sense and glitter pretty much... everywhere. So after putting her to sleep he engaged himself in cleaning all the glitter, and cleaning glitter is not an easy job, not to mention that he himself resembled a disco ball with all the glitter he had in his hair. He somehow ended cleaning even the rest and who knows when he would have stopped if Hongjoong haven't arrived home. You basically absent mindedly gazed into the cartoon on the tv which was muted when your phone buzzed and brought you back to your senses. It was a message from an unknown number, but from the content of the message you figured it was Hongjoong. Hongjoong: I will be back about 10 minutes. You saved his contact before replying. You: Thanks for giving me a notice, I will wait for you. I put her to sleep, so you have nothing to worry about. And just like that you spent those 10 minutes watching a cartoon on mute before you heard a clatter of keys trying to unlock the door, but being unable to due the keys from the inside of the door. "I'm coming." You whisper-yelled, afraid not to wake the girl as you hurried to the door. You turned the keys and opened the door, smiling. "Welcome home." It was probably due to not having a chance to hear that often, but his heart slightly fluttered at your welcome and he couldn't help but smile a little. "As I already mentioned, she is sound asleep..." You trailed off as you went to pick up your belongings from the living room, not wanting to yell and as soon as you returned you started putting on your shoes. "She is a wonderful child, you raised her very well." You gave him a wide smile as you started putting on your coat. "We made dinner together and left you some in the refrigerator so you can heat it up if you want. You must be tired so I will be going now." As you took ahold of the knob, he took ahold of your forearm. You turned around, giving him a puzzled look as to which he just took out his wallet. "No Hongjoong please, I did not do this for money. Besides, that child already repaid me with her smile, I really had a nice time today." You shook your hands before your face in defense. "There's no way I can let you leave without anything, you lost your whole day." He took out his money and was handing it to you, but you were not an easy nut to crack. "Can we make a deal then? If I happen to look after her again, I will accept, okay?" He sighed in defeat, dropping the argument as it was leading nowhere. But that idea of you babysitting again, deep down he liked it. "Alright, alright." You exited the door waving at him. "Why don't you at least let me call you a cab? It's pretty dark outside for you to be walking alone." Shaking your head you turned to him. "Don't worry about me, go back to that precious little child." He nodded, closing the door. "Hongjoong..." He halted and looked at you expectantly. "See you." And like that, you parted.

Little did you know that she would want you to come look after her again and again and again. Hongjoong of course, refused her at first, not wanting to trouble you, but soon he just gave up. And you didn't mind really, that child grew onto you like on anyone she meets. This time you were just going to visit her for no particular reason, you just had free time. You knocked on the door you grew used to and the man you started to develop faint feelings for opened. "Oh hi, come on in." He gave you his usual smile and you obliged. Just after barely taking one shoe off you heard your name being shouted from across the hall by a little human who was running to tackle hug you. "How's my favourite princess doing?" She smiled from ear to ear, as she always did. "Good! Daddy and I were just talking about you!" You rose a brow as you shot a glance at Hongjoong who was smiling nervously. "Daddy asked me if I would want you..." She was unable to finish her sentence because Hongjoong interupted, cutting her mid sentence. "You know, we were just planning on going grocery shopping, so you don't have to take off your shoes if you wanna come with us." You returned your attention to the child, whispering into her ear. "You'll tell me later." You smooched her cheek before raising back up nodding at Hongjoong. "Let's go."

"Hongjoong, you forgot to get the tomatoes... How do you expect that we make the bolognese sauce without tomatoes?" You waved in front of his face with a wooden spoon threateningly. "Sorry, I was hindered by a certain small being that strongly wanted a package of gummy bears." You just chuckled at his troubled expression. "We can just improvise something then, I guess. At least she got what she wanted." You nodded in the direction where the previously mentioned small being was eating her gummy bears, her attention on the cartoon playing on the tv. "I have a weakness for her, what was I supposed to do." Hongjoong gave you a troubled smile as he was growing scared of that wooden spoon in your grip. You couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair. "Go rest, you were working for the whole day yesterday. Your eye bags are so big, they could be used as bowls." He shook his head. "I can't leave everything to you..." You squinted your eyes and raised the wooden spoon back in his sight. "We will all rest when we eat, how does that sound?" You rolled your eyes at him jokingly. "You were always a tough negotiator, have it your way." Smiling to your agreement he let out a breathy laugh, not really sure how to react to the given situation. You were gifting him precious moments he could only dream of before. Like having someone to welcome him, see him off, look after him and his baby, make a meal for him, and all that just made him wish that he could do the same for you.

"Hongjoong, I am actually amazed at your cooking skills." You confessed as you plopped yourself on the couch, the little minion automatically manifesting on your side hugging you. Hongjoong went to sit on the other side of the couch before he was stopped by his little girl. "Daddy, I want you to sit here." She patted the free spot next to her, and Hongjoong just obliged, placing himself next to you two. "Now I want you two to hug me." She giggled as if she knew exactly what she was doing. As you put your arms around the little minion and connected them on the small of Hongjoong's back, he did the same. Your head rested on his shoulder, inhaling the same scent from the first day when you met him, his head rested on your shoulder looking longingly at the one person he wished for from the first day he met you, and in-between you two, a brightly smiling child who loved both of you was seated.

And so again, you went to them, they came to you. When Hongjoong was working, you were babysitting and when he was free the three of you just casually spent time together. This one time, when Hongjoong returned from work you were still in the process of putting the minion to sleep. Hongjoong inspected you closely as you ran after the child while taking off his coat and boots and he couldn't help but smile. You halted for a minute to welcome him, while the minion was long gone from sight. As you turned back to go after her you could hear her voice from the room. "Mommy hurry, I want you to read me a story before I fall asleep." You froze to the spot and looked to Hongjoong wide eyed as he did the exact same thing. Your face welcomed a shade of pink as you turned around and marched forward, not being able to face him. "C-coming princess."

"Hey Hongjoong." You peeked inside the living room, finally mustering up the courage to face him after what happened earlier, but to your luck, or misfortune, he was asleep. You would have let him be and went home as it was that he even gave you the key to his apartment, but you couldn't leave him in such a uncomfortable position. He must have fell asleep while waiting for you. You shook him lightly by the shoulder, afraid not to startle him. Your heart fluttered the same time his tired eyes fluttered open. "I just didn't want to leave you in an uncomfortable position, I will be leaving now. Get some rest." You blabbered and were ready to leave. "Could you stay... a bit longer?" Originally, it would not have been a problem, but this time around your nerves were getting the better of you. However, not having a proper reason to refuse, you sat on the couch next to Hongjoong, sighing. "May I?" He was asking you to lay on your legs. Again, it wasn't the first time, but never before did he ask nor did you feel nervous while his soft features were beneath your reach. However, on instinct your fingers started playing with his hair and he momentarily relaxed. Feeling restless you just had the urge to start a talk about something, anything. "Hongjoong, you never told me what happened to your...uhm...her real m..." You found it quite difficult to word the sentence, luckily Hongjoong caught on and saved you the struggle. "We had my princess when we were nineteen..."

Hongjoong and his girlfriend at the time didn't even plan marriage, a baby? Even less. But she found out she was pregnant and after a lot of negotiations and talking, they decided to keep the baby and promised that they would handle every obstacle on their way. Neither of them ever dreamed that their first and biggest obstacle were their own parents. Both sides gave them the cold shoulder, but not all hope was lost. They believed that when the baby is born, their parents would change their mind. It was a brutal strike to both of them when, even with the birth of their baby girl, nothing changed. They weren't making much and they could barely take care of even themselves. That is when the girl wavered. She was scared for her future and she insisted that they give the baby for adoption. Hongjoong however, didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to give his precious treasure to some random stranger. He also couldn't care less about his parents rejecting him. They always treated him as if he was a nuisance, so what was the difference now. His girlfriend, however, left and he never blamed her for that. She lied to her parents that she put her child up for adoption, she split up with Hongjoong and broke off every contact with him and the baby out of fear that her parents would kick her out again. Through all that time the only person Hongjoong kept contact with was his brother. Even against Hongjoong's will his brother keeps sending him money from time to time. Hongjoong on the other hand sends him back videos and pictures of the little minion doing whatnot. This is the exact reason why Hongjoong is making sure to make her real uncle a part of her life as much as possible. The number of times the uncle burst into tears after hearing a little voice through the phone calling him to come and meet her is a large one. There was nothing he could do about that as he lived on the other side of Korea. The only thing his brother didn't tell Hongjoong is that their parents greatly regret their choices and want to see their grandchild. But Hongjoong will find out himself when and if they decide to let go of their stupid idea of pride.

"...and that's how the two of us ended up like this." It was not until your tear fell on his face that he noticed that you were crying. "Hey, don't cry for that." He raised his hand in order to wipe away the watery paths that your tears left on your face. "She now finally has a mum as she said. I can't thank you enough for playing that role for her, no let me take that back, you are not playing that role. After all this time of looking after her you can call yourself her mum." His comment only turned on the faucet that let more tears fall. "Thank you for saying so Hongjoong." He rose from your legs and turned to face you. "I didn't plan to do it like this but here it goes." He cupped your chin and leaned into you, his only support being his other hand. Your heart went on a rampage, throwing itself randomly against your rib cage causing irregularities in your breath. Hongjoong softly smiled when he noticed your reaction, feeling reassured to carry on with his confession. "I started attaching myself to you from the first time you stood on that door. At first I wasn't sure if that was because..." You cut him off by placing your lips onto his in a sweet kiss unsure if your heart would be able to last through his whole speech. You pulled away shyly forcing yourself to look him in the eye. Now it was official, until now you were practically just a couple without that official stamp. It felt nice, it felt like home. "You will tell me later, I wasn't sure if I was able to survive through it all." You grinned and he shook his head, smiling as well before he leaned in again.

"Okay is everyone ready?" You asked eagerly after hearing Hongjoong approach the door. "I don't understand why we have to wear this." Yeosang retorted, not amused in the slightest before Yunho appeared from behind him and pulled him into the room to hide like he was pulling him in a back alley to kidnap him, what made the situation more amusing was Yeosang's uninterested face. "Come on Yeosang we don't have much time for questions." Yunho whispered in his ear as they both disappeared into the darkness of the room. You sighed in relief as everyone was finally on their position just as you heard the keys and the door knob. And then there on the door appeared Hongjoong. "Welcome home, come on sweetie." You welcomed Hongjoong and guided his, no, both of your child to him. "Daddy, mommy bought me a minion onesie, look!" She ran up to Hongjoong and extended her arms up to him. "It's beautiful love! What does it say here... I'm gonna be a sister..." Hongjoong's eyes widened as his heart skipped a few beats and he would have jumped to hug you right then and there if he wasn't startled by seven men who ran at him at the same time, wearing a "I'm going to be an uncle (again)" shirts, pink shirts. Hongjoong's eyes widened again before he passed the child to Seonghwa to come and finally hug you. "So another girl huh?" You smiled widely back to him, nodding and he returned an even wider smile. "What week are you?" He caressed your still unnoticeable bump. "The doctor said 15th, the stomach is going to start to show from here on." He hugged you careful not to squish you too much. "I love you, thank you for giving me everything and making me a happy man." He pressed his forehead to yours. "I should be the one thanking you, Joong." Your lips met again just like they did yesterday and just like they will tomorrow. "I want to hug with mommy and daddy too!" And just like that your little intimate moment became a group hug of all the people you considered family.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

“We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.”

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

“Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center.

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes.

The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos.

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes.

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?” He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice.

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.”

That got his attention fast.

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you.

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose.

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar.

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table.

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man.

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures.

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile.

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.”

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths.

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!”

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would.

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...”

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp-

“OUCH!”

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super.

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

“Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist.

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!”

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage.

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk.

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again.

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed.

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn.

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.” You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare.

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?”

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?” His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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serenawitchwriter · 3 years

Text

BNHA fusion (Bakusquad/Todoroki)

TodoBaku

i pity endeavor

somehow angrier than bakugou? like it’s less of a tsundere, shouty way and more of a punk rock 100% ready to throw down at the slightest provocation

has less tolerance for spice but will eat it anyway

spicy noodles

a lot blunter with his actual thoughts

so much fire, i’m imagining because of Baku's chemical secretion they could possibly make some kind of plasma, though i doubt that makes scientific sense.

also shoots steam out of one their hands

spiky red and white hair, not split down the middle but streaky. a bit like natsuo only more integrated

red eyes, no heterochromia, but keeps the scar

handsome, but constantly looks a bit constipated

really self-critical

incredibly good at mocking people. easily makes people cry with his insults because they’ll attack the thing about you that you don’t like

surprisingly unaggressive towards midoriya. like bakugou’s rivalry/aggression toward him is somehow dampened by todoroki’s love of mido

also tolerant of specifically mina, uraraka, and kirishima. everyone else push their buttons to the point of pissing them off.

i’d like to see them fight dabi because it feels like they’d have similar vibes, except todobaku is less theater kid.

would absolutely wear a leather jacket

despite their angry punk energy, they still pretty anal about self care and schedules. like they’re straight edge nerds about everything but fighting

KiriTodo

chaotic

like they aren’t a bad person but they are a dumbass and the shit that they get up to is spectacularly wild

completely red hair, silky texture. either slicks it back or spikes it into a mohawk. depends on the day

still scarred, red and blue eyes.

shark teeth but in a softer shaped face

usually shirtless, especially when it’s inappropriate

will eat literally anything

incredibly insecure but honest about it

clingy to his friends in an almost desperate way. like his friends will always be their for him but even then he’s struggling to feel secure about it

slow burn anger, but is the most terrifying person to see angry. you do not want to see him get genuinely pissed

an incredibly kind person

fantastic with animals

another elemental quirk user

i have the mental image of a rock golem running at the enemy while on fire and covered in ice. again, avoid pissing him off

pauses a lot while talking and uses a lot of filler words like ‘like, um, and uh”. almost like a valley girl

deceptively smart and emotionally mature. like they have their moments of being profound, of getting where others are coming from, of doing something totally genius

but is also a dumbass the vast majority of the time. like you’d be shocked at how stupid he can be

can’t fucking read

affectionate towards Bakugou and Midoriya. thinks they’re all best friends. isn’t entirely wrong. loves Mina as well

cuddly as hell, but is not comfortable to cuddle with. he’s too hard and he’s never the right temperature

TodoMina

chaotic part 2

a weird combo, probably not very stable

candy cane colored curls, with a pink transition color in their hair. still has horns.

it’s hard to tell that they’re scarred with pink skin. heterochromic eyes, one blue, the other yellow with black sclara

has a creepy laugh

fully into being an alien and is attempting to convince people it’s true, not in a joking way.

more plasma options in terms of quirks. i don’t know how freezing or heating acid effects it, but the effect can probably be used for something

will do basically anything they put their mind to, no matter how absurd. once they make a decision they’re going to do it hell or high water

shift back and forth between being incredibly hyper and on the ball, and being exhausted and antisocial.

overly invested in gossip and discovering the truth. nosy as hell

impossible to predict

probably into yoga?

manic pixie dream girl? definitely quirky

has a mean sense of humor, and is sometimes just mean in general. generally has good intentions but won’t hesitate to cut people down when they feel they ‘deserve it’

candy addiction

TodaKami

very stable

very funny and chill

stoner vibes regardless of if they do drugs

zones out constantly

black lightning in the white half, red lightning in yellow half of hair. fine and silky as hell

green eyes, no scar. probably needs glasses but doesn’t have them yet

weather powers. can make storms, clouds, effect temperature. can be effected by their own weather and injures themselves often

but is an op fighter anyway

both a memer and conspiracy theorist but in an entertaining way. could have a buzzfeed unsolved style show if they find the right skeptic. i feel like iida would be a cute partner for that. obviously todokami is the unhinged one

will eat literal garbage. i could see them eating from a dumpster because the pizza looked okay

rude mouth, says what he’s thinking regardless of how hurtful it is. isn’t intentionally trying to be mean.

obsessed with dragons

constantly tired. they sleep and sleep but it is never enough

pretty cuddly and quiet when zoned out

a fantastic hugger

baby

Todosero

weird but in an inexplicably normal way

like they’re not getting bullied for it, they’re not subverting society or being overly chaotic. they’re just kinda... odd.

possibly a fae in disguise?

fixed looking smile

scarred. small black eyes. hair is split to be red and white. but the roots are black

obviously still has tape elbows. quirk is probably some kinda fire and ice whip. makes a lot of icicles as well. has many creative applications, especially because they’re both range attacks

executive dysfunction anyone?

loves manga, particularly weird artsy kind, or horror and mysteries

will chill in high places for hours. probably makes a full spiderweb or cocoon or hammock.

just likes getting away from people

wears Hawaiian shirts casually. on the tame side

loves the beach

loves noodles more than life itself. has a mission to try every type of noodle

probably gets stuck places and gets lost easily

makes people uncomfortable. kind of person who just stands silently and stares at you. will wait until you notice him to speak. so sometimes he’ll just be standing silently behind you for five minute and than you’ll finally turn around and have a heart attack,

will otherwise jut kinda stand at the periphery of groups and stare blankly. like that vine of the guy disassociating at a party

never quite jives with the conversations, timing always seems off. they’re just really awkward

pretty fun loving given the opportunity. hanging out with friends is their favorite activity

vibes fairly well with ojiro and hagakure

TodoJirou

cool

makes ice puns, which is lame but gay/lesbian solidarity part 2

white and purple hair in a bob. no scar. has the earphone jacks. purple and silver eyes. petite

deserves to wear sunglasses at all times. probably doesn’t but they deserve to

incredibly chill

actually pretty lazy given the opportunity

still plays the bass and is quite passionate about it

husky singing voice. it’s good but unique, most suited towards indie stuff, not belting Broadway.

plays with earjacks constantly

in love with momo

powers aren’t particularly enhanced by each other. have to get pretty creative to make it effective. don’t mind that much, they aren’t trying to be number one, they’re just herre to help

probably always in a leather jacket

generally pretty sweet, especially towards close friends. it’s a quiet kindness. more shown by putting extra food on your plate when you’re not eating enough, instead of demanding you eat more verbally

sardonic

stable

easily annoyed, especially by injustice. if something is unfair they’ll get mad

generally incredibly mellow, one of the less feral fusion overall

(masterlist)

#fusion au #bnha #mha #bakusquad #todobaku #todomina #todokiri #todosero #todojirou #serenawitchwriter

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floof-ghostie · 3 years

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Mina Ashido headcanons!

Okay, so as I have mentioned before, she's Afro-Japanese

Dad is Japanese, mom is black, and from Zimbabwe.

Her dad is the one with the horns and black scelerae, but her mom is the one with the acid quirk.

Her mom has pink vitiligo from her quirk.

She has ADHD!

I have said this multiple times, but she's a hot girl and a barb. She also loves Marina and the Diamonds.

Due to the corrosive nature of her acid, she does face/hair masks once a week, so her hair and skin don't get dry.

She and Tsuyu get along really well for this reason! Tsuyu's skin also needs moisture (because frog), so they do spa days together, along with Yaoyorozu.

After realising that it's impractical to wear her hair out during training, she looks into protective styles.

She wants to get box braids, but there's never really any time. Also, it takes a while before the braids stop hurting.

So she does styles like cornrows and puffs! They hurt less, but are still protective styles.

Her favourite style, other than her hair being out is a puff, but with two twists to make bangs. To all my black followers, you know the style.

Mina also likes jam skating! She took some of her classmates to a roller rink in her hometown once, and they all had a lot of fun.

Also, Mina's fashion sense? Bomb. This girl makes everything work.

She really loves 80's patterned jackets and sweaters. Or anything with lot's of colours and patterns.

She and Uraraka love holding fashion shows in their dorms!

She and Hagakure bond over their insecurities over their appearances. The biases for mutant quirks get to people after a while.

After a training session during their second year, where she used her break-dancing talent to make an acid windmill, she realised that she needed a more practical costume, so she paid Hatsume a visit!

Her costume is now a green/yellow zebra print crop top/shorts combo, with a purple jacket. Also, she has what Hatsume calls "acid gauntlets" made from Ashido's DNA.

The gauntlets hold her acid, and can fire steady streams of the stuff if she wants. Or, they can let her acid seep out when she wants to.

The Shorts have purple lining, and have lots of pockets.

Her boots also can turn into light up roller skates!

She's really good at doing hair, due to experience.

So when she saw the way Midoriya was treating his hair, she had to step in.

She, Tsunotori, and Tokage are friends, much to Monoma's chagrin. But even he can't be mad at her.

Anyway, this is an awkward place to end this, but yeah, these are my Ashido headcanons atm.

#bnha #mina ashido

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missmitchieg · 3 years

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The Phantoms, Triple Threat, Nick, & Caleb Covington as Pokemon trainers

Julie’s Pokemon: Sawsbuck (Bambi), Lurantis (Bloom), Mismagius (Magician), Pikachu (Sparkler), Solrock (Sunshine), Meganium (Long-Neck)

Julie’s a loving, gentle trainer that gives every Pokemon that comes her way a nickname and lets them out every once in a while to relax and play in a forest but goes hard in battles. She never loses. Her Pokemon never lose.

She’s good friends with every nurse Joy and officer Jenny and loves meeting new friends along the way to becoming a real Pokemon master. She never forgets her daily check-in calls with Ray and Carlos. She also keeps in touch with her best friend, Flynn, and loves the pictures she gets from her.

She likes to give her updates on “that cute but mischievous boy with the Gyarados and the Charizard“ that she’s pretty sure has a thing for her but she’s too shy to ask. Even if he seems to just “pop up“ wherever she goes after they met outside of a gym.

She genuinely laughed in Caleb Covington’s face when he tried, and failed epicly, to intimidate her. She thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Then she proceeded to beat him in battle. In public. Humiliating him. She hates him, and Team Rocket, and everything they stand for.

Bloom and Magician usually prefer to be out of their balls and walk and float around with her. She likes that about them. Sunshine and Lon-Neck seem to be closest with each other, but love the rest of the team as well. And they never run low on food or berries to munch on while they make pit stops on their journey.

Julie usually likes to wear a purple t shirt or sweater, a matching purple headband, white pants and sneakers and a black jacket. She always has a charm bracelet with 6 charms: A Poke Ball, a Great Ball, an Ultra Ball, a Master Ball, a Love Ball and a Friend Ball.

Luke’s Pokemon: Jolteon (Bolt), Charizard (Blaze), Gyarados (Bayou), Poliwrath (Polly), Zapdos (Tazer), Beedrill (Honey)

Yeah, Luke’s a bit of a genwunner. What’s it to ya? He knows what he likes and he knows what’s good. And yeah, he might have gotten himself in trouble with more than one officer Jenny more than twice for trying to steal a potion or two. (Nurse Joys always hate him so he’s learned to stay away from centers.) So he’s a rebel. Sue him. At least he cares enough to get them for his team.

Unlike those awful Team Rocket people that, rather than loving and caring for Pokemon like the epic, amazing, awesome creatures they are, they hurt them. Luke hates Team Rocket with all of his heart and he makes that fact known. He’s only ever met two, and they both sucked. One yelled at a kid’s Geodude and the other made a Togepi cry. Hard. He took it upon himself to comfort the little Togepi and feed him some (stolen) Pokemon food until he smiled and skipped away like nothing had happened.

Anyway, he loves being a trainer and exploring places with his Pokemon and he loves forest picnics (of stolen food, usually) and watching his Gyarados hide in waterfalls to jump out and scare people off. He also likes to keep tabs on “that girl that gives her Pokemon nicknames like a (pretty) dork” (Which is a thing he totally didn’t steal from her. He was already calling his team those names.) and tell the few friends he has about her.

Charizard and Jolteon have been with him since the very beginning of his journey, as a little but strong Charmander and Eevee and he loves them (and everyone else) like crazy. Zapdos tends to come out of his Ultra Ball without warning to spread his wings. Poliwrath is a big fan of swimming in lakes when they find them.

Luke generally wears a blue tank top with a black vest hoodie, jeans and black boots. He’s never seen without his blue knitted beanie (”My mom knitted this, so I’m wearing it forever.”) or the pink, red and blue friendship bracelet Reggie had gifted both him and Alex with before they went on their journeys. (”Reggie and Alex are my best friends, so I’m wearing it forever.”) Luke’s bracelet has a Master Ball charm and he loves it.

Reggie’s Pokemon: Eevee (Foxy), Braixen (Fire-Starter), Vulpix (Curly Top), Cyndaquil (Volcano), Teddiursa (Baby Bear), Togetic (Angel)

Reggie’s not necessarily too concerned with being a Pokemon master. You see, he’s more inclined to just have a good time and explore and let his Pokemon just be and give them all nicknames. He’ll sometimes pop into a Poke Mart just to say hi and grab a potion or two, mostly to not have to bother nurse Joy about his Eevee, who prefers to be carried around like a baby, (And who he doesn’t want to evolve into anything. Same with the rest of them. He’s very content with his “baby” team, thank you.), or his other Pokemon, again.

He likes hearing about his friends crazy adventures, though! And he likes hearing about their love lives, even if they’re both too shy to do much about anything. He likes telling his friends about all the stuff he sees in his town, like the old guy selling Pokemon food and the little girl that “just has an Arcanine, a Flareon, and an Infernape already! How did one little girl manage that?”

Reggie thinks he’s really lucky he’s never met a Team Rocket member, considering everything he’s heard about them from Luke, they suck. He’s honestly started to genuinely hate them by emotional osmosis at this point.

Reggie likes to dress in red and black flannels, white or grey t shirts, black jeans, black sandals, his own friendship bracelet that has an Eevee charm and a black jacket when the weather calls for it.

Alex’s Pokemon team: Sobble, Psyduck, Entei, Rapidash, Lapras, Starmie

So catching the Entei was kind of an accident. He’d just been exploring around a volcano looking to try and catch a Rapidash (he got it) when the volcano erupted and Entei appeared. He had (somehow) managed to calm the rather disgruntled Pokemon and catch it with a Poke Ball and Entei loves being part of Alex’s team, as do the rest of them. The Lapras was an accident, too, but that’s another story for another day. It involves a very grumpy, greedy hunter and Psyduck’s chronic headache.

Sobble, Starmie and Psyduck all just kind of felt drawn to him. He wasn’t going to question why an anxious duck with a permanent headache, a water lizard that always looked distressed and a star felt like sticking around him, but he loved them all equally. He loves updating his friends, Luke and Reggie on his adventures and catches (and the cute boy with the Blissey and Bellossom he met in a Poke Mart and keeps bumping into “on accident”*) or just calling to talk about nothing when he misses them.

(*It’s so not an accident.)

Alex likes to wear pink t shirts with a grey or black jean jacket, blue jeans, a white snapback and black sneakers. He never takes off his friendship bracelet and is very careful to not snag it on a twig or door handle or lose the Starmie charm.

Willie’s Pokemon: Blissey, Bellossom, Slowbro, Snorlax, Garchomp, Aromatisse

Earlier on in life, Willie had been pretty certain he wanted to be like his dad and become a real gym leader, but over time, he grew to like the idea of being a Pokemon doctor. His parents were a bit surprised by the news of their boy wanting to be a doctor, but they wholeheartedly supported his dreams and let him go to school to be a doctor, getting semi-regular updates from him.

Now, he’s often seen picking berries from trees and walking into Poke Marts to grab whatever he’d run out of that week, always happy to see the store clerks or say hi to a friend whose Pokemon he helped heal. (He especially liked when he ran into that Cute Blond Boy and he sometimes walks into stores just to talk to him even if he bought supplies just the day before, but shh. Cute Blond Boy doesn’t need to know that.) He also liked to offer grumpy, angry people a couple bites of Blissey egg to make them happy just because.

Willie usually likes to be comfortable and wear orange and white tie dye t shirts or orange and yellow floral t shirts, blue jeans, white sandals, and his hair loosely tied in a bun. After meeting Cute Blonde Boy, though, he started incorporating snapbacks and sneakers into his wardrobe. He liked how they looked on Cute Blond Boy better, though.

Flynn’s Pokemon: Liepard, Torracat, Delcatty, Pyroar, Lillipup, Persian

Flynn is honestly more of a Pokemon photographer than anything. She likes to hang around fields and forests to see the Pokemon roam free and take pictures or just watch while her big and little wildcats (Her favorites.) and her puppy (Accident. She doesn’t know how she fell so hard for the little pup.) either play or lie next to her and nap. She sends her favorites to her best friend, Julie and talks to her over the phone all the time. She likes hearing about her adventures and her cute boy and give advice on how to talk to him.

Flynn has only ever encountered Caleb, Dante and Fuego twice and she hated him instantly. The first time, she saw him snap at a little boy holding a Growlithe plushie. She had instinctively sicced her Pyroar’s flamethrower on him, yelling at him to leave the kid alone. The second time, she saw him physically grab a girl’s Hoppip and stomped toward him, commanding her Liepard to use Fury Swipes on him. She watched him struggle to walk away afterwards, gently handing the Hoppip back to the little girl and pointing in the direction of a Pokemon center just in case “her little friend got hurt when the mean guy grabbed her”.

Flynn is always seen wearing some kind of wildcat print in her outfits. Whether it’s the orange tiger t shirt and blue jeans combo with matching tiger boots she loved to put together, or the leopard print dress she saved for special occasions. She and Julie have always worn their matching charm bracelets with nothing but pride and love.

Carrie’s Pokemon: Mew, Sylveon, Dragonair (Shiny), Alomomola, Clefable, Audino

Listen, Carrie Wilson may be a pink princess, but don’t mistake her love of girly, glittery clothes and only having pink Pokemon on her team as her being weak. It’s not “she loves pink and glitter, but she’s strong and smart“, it’s “she loves pink and glitter AND she’s strong and smart“.

She simply has an aesthetic and an image to maintain and she maintains it, while having a team of strong fighters. She caught her Mew when all she had was a Sylveon and a couple of Pokeballs (What, like it’s hard?) and she’s proud to have a Mew, who prefers to float around her or piggyback her rather than be stuck in a ball, on her team.

She thinks it’s hilarious that Caleb assumed she would be at all scared of him. And assumed that she would lose to him. Carrie Wilson never loses a battle and she doesn’t plan to make that a habit of hers anytime soon. It’s simply not what Carrie Wilson does. Carrie Wilson instills fear into the hearts of weak little men, and has fun doing it.

But she’s always nice to little girls like her who love pink and love to beat boys in battle. She even gives girls strategic advice and runs into stores to buy them potions, poison heals and more just because. Little girls love her for it and she loves the little girls she comes across like her sisters.

Carrie wears a bedazzled white t shirt with a picture of a Love Ball on the front, a pink (faux, of course) fur coat, a sparkly pink tiered skirt with matching pink high heels. She saves her favorite pink and silver crystal dress for only the most special occasions.

Nick’s Pokemon: Cubone, Elekid, Wartortle, Chimchar, Pidgey, Butterfree

Nick is an aspiring baseball player, just like his dad. He’s not the best in battle, and he has to make quite a few emergency trips to Pokemon centers or clinics when he’s out of potions, but his team still loves him and fiercely (Well, as fierce as a tiny dinosaur, a ball of electricity, a turtle, a chimp, a pidgeon, and a butterfly can be.) protects him from danger.

Like that time when he accidentally angered a flock of Zubat by kicking a rock a little too hard and startling them awake. Emolga and Chimchar had to come to his rescue and they managed to get away relatively unscathed. Or that time he’d been found by a sweet old couple that offered him a warm meal, some Pokemon food and a bed for the night. After he’d been ambushed by a massive colony of angry Beedrill for walking too close to Beedrill territory.

Nick liked to wear a yellow t shirt with his dad’s baseball team, The Electabuzz, white shorts, black sandals and a white vest. He was always in either that or a regular white t shirt with a Poke Ball, blue jeans, and white sneakers.

Caleb’s Pokemon: Seviper, Grimmsnarl, Gengar, Skarmory, Umbreon, Spectrier

Caleb’s a member of Team Rocket. No one there really likes him or takes him seriously except Dante and Fuego, but he’s convinced himself they all do. No one, not even Dante and Fuego, is really sure how he managed to catch the Spectrier (or any of his team, because they don’t really like him much, either), but they also haven’t bothered to ask and he can’t really be bothered to tell.

He’s totally not friends with Dante and Fuego (yes, he is) and he totally doesn’t love them like sons, what? He doesn’t have a heart. (Except for Dante and Fuego.) He steals from stores and scares kids just by existing near them. Except Julie, Flynn, Carrie, and Luke. They’re not scared of anything. He’s more scared of them.

He hates the standard “bland, boring and ugly” Team Rocket uniform. With a burning passion. So naturally, he decided to dye the white parts of his uniform purple and cover it in glitter, replacing the hat with a much more his style top hat. He had gotten in trouble for the modifications to the outfit initially, but he didn’t care much. He was evil, but he wasn’t boring. And his boss had just sighed and decided he could get used to the non-regulation uniform after all.

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dansedan · 3 years

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Did anyone ask for bad impulsive original fiction? no? ok so I’m doing it anyway under readmore bc

1) it’s four pages long

2) It’s not good

open at your own risk it’s gay pining and isolated places bc that’s what I’ve been thinking about latelyyyyyyy

ok here ‘tis sorry everything I touch becomes brooding and horny at least this one isn’t explicit lmao I started it right after watching brokeback mountain and maybe that’s super obvious and sad!

The blonde man is in a yellow suede coat (for that is what blonde men wear) and the black-haired man is wearing blue (not denim, though, just house-clothes) and they are standing in a bog-road not quite a mountain, too tropical for Western dessert, and the black-haired man is short but the blonde is shorter.

The are moles on the black-haired man’s blonde-skinned face and the blonde man wants to kiss them quickly, kiss repeatedly like a combo in an arcade game. The black-haired man is grinning more than he would really grin and his eyes are proud, round almonds and his hair is long and leather-smooth. The Blonde man looks like carrot cake in essence but not color, he is pale and strawlike.

The Blonde man is shivering under the coat and hat and isn’t used to it, but the black haired man just smiles again and says that Jersey winter’s colder, that he should visit sometime and see it for himself. The blonde man does believe him, still shivers without being cold.

“It’s good that you’ve managed to make it all the way down here.”

The two men are in the cottage- or house, or shack, or whathaveyou- and they’re shedding their coats with warm hesitance. The light from the windows is white-cold and streaming in like sheafs of silk, and the blonde man stares like a movie-still, too conscious and composed. The black-haired man is real, though, and he’s rustling through the kitchen for mugs, and spoons and coffee grounds. Chattering about the weather and elections and the recent movie by the actor they both like to fill the space in the air, and the Blonde man is breathing with intent, too much intent. Like receiving a shirt from a lover, he is breathing in the air of the house (it is still air with no notable fragrance, the coffee from the kitchen exempted by its diegesis) and looking around, taking slow steps like a peppy realtor on a tee-vee show. The house is American, and hand-made several years ago (he knows, for this is how he met the black-haired man, in that year of furrowed brows and little lies and paperwork) and overwhelmingly warm, wooden brown. It is draped in corners with thick fabric, like a swaddled child, and the Blonde man can see embroidery and weavings he himself had sent along with a mutual friend on her much more frequent visits- a pillow with a bird design, a blanket made to look like an old overcoat, art-school projects disguised as adult whims that had never fooled the black-haired man, but had successfully flattered him.

And the black-haired man has finished making coffee, or gotten sick of hearing “yes” and “really?” from the younger man, is instead sneaking up behind him with the mugs.

“neat house, huh?”

“thanks, made it myself.”

And the black-haired man pretends to gasp, and pretends to laugh, and passes on the coffee to the blonde man. And they are not drinking over an open fire, they are walking to the sofa- one in sock feet, one in boots.

“how’s school?”

“s’fine- ‘school’ makes it sound like I’m in sixth grade.”

“…is sixth grade fun?”

“fuck no.”

The black-haired man’s smile is wide, and heart-shaped, and it breaks the blonde man’s heart to see it plastered like that and to know it’s his fault.

“Still, god, how long’s it been now, three years?”

“threeish.”

The black-haired man is looking everywhere other than him, and it’s painfully obvious in the closed quarters of the open living room.

“all because of-“

“yeah, well, and the distance is-“

“of course, of course, still-“

“yeah. No excuses.”

And the blonde man wonders how they can do that- having never heard each other’s voices- how the black-haired man can read his tone and answer without seeing him face, without staring like the blonde man does and is at his small face dwarfed by warm-toned sofa seat.

“You know, you’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

“really?”

“well, from the photos-“

“ah. Well, my roommate’s- uhm, whatsit… like, five feet? One-twenty cm, whatever that is.”

“oh. Tiny.”

“yeah, tiny.”

And the black-haired man looks away again, towards the door that leads to a half-kilometer of nothing and no-one, and farmlands sat past that, so no-one was making any sort of noise or was otherwise expected. And it is warm inside the house, and they sit apart on the single sinking sofa, their hands next to each other but apart.

“god, you’re white.”

“well, that’s evident in-“

“yeah, photos but-“ the black-haired man reached out, tentatively placing their hands side by side, touching pinkies. “god, in person… it’s a lot.”

“hm.” The blonde man hummed to cover his sudden breathing. He didn’t know where to look, so he stared. “…The British have a lot to answer for.”

“ha! Maybe so,” the black-haired man seemed emboldened, he kept looking amiably about the blonde man’s face, starting to fully touch the surface of the Blonde man’s hands. “do you burn easily?”

“too much.” The blonde man nodded, looking up, jittery. He made a gesture, a short nod up, signaling to notice the field of faint freckles on his face. The black-haired man noticed only the quirk of his pink lips, puckering slightly as emphasis, and the youthful blemishes on his rounded chin that lead his eyes down to the soft expanse of neck and chest under the button-up. It was quiet awhile, both faced towards each other but looking away, choking on still coffee and stale air.

“how is the book-“

“So what did you think about me?-“

And the second the words were out they were still again. The Blonde man had been tentative, the black-haired man weakly attempting a mocking falsetto, crowded into a pose with his feet drawn up on the sofa. They finally locked eyes, both half-desperate and half-heartened, restraining the urge to laugh or cry out of politeness.

The black-haired man broke the gaze first.

“um, well- Book’s okay! Got it into querying, so that’s good.” He scrambled to stretch out again, break pose and settle further away into the arm of the couch, further away from the blonde man still looking at him, still stunned serious.

“good.”

“yeah, good. Pretty good.”

And the black-haired man couldn’t look forward but seemed to feel the stare still standing solid back at him.

“You’re… “ the blonde-haired man hesitated, voice low. “you’re older than I thought you.”

“hah! Yeah, I’m a geezer, right?”

“you’re handsome.”

And that gave the black-haired man some pause, the easy tone he’d suddenly taken then, as if suddenly reporting on some subject he was confident about, like there was somehow more shame in asking him about work than there was in breaking that barrier. And he kept watching and talking.

“you look old Hollywood. Like that one guy- god, what’s his name? He was in one of the older westerns…”

“…s’rude to make fun of folks like that, you know.” He could feel his voice was small, and suddenly those couple inches height seemed to have lost their worth.

“I’m not making fun.” The blonde man said, and he stood up from the couch with his empty mug of coffee, walking back to the corner kitchen and the dripping sink. Even from away, there was a certain elegance in the way he went about the movements of walking and washing the cup, hands flowing soft like thin silk in smooth motion. And the blonde-haired man didn’t speak, while the black-haired man watched and sat in relative silence.

He watched the blonde man wetting, washing, coming up to rub his neck and card through the short-shaved back of his nape. The blonde man ducked his head down, gathered water to wet his face, and his neck was slender and unmarked, snow-white, and the black-haired man could not explain why it made him hungry, recalled the scent of citrus, of the bitter pale-white pith.

He could feel and see the light outside the window finally waning into night, bathing the open room in cold grey-casted light, see its effect on the blonde man, patting his hands dry on his pants and glancing around for a light switch.

“hey- why don’t you bring the matches? Second drawer.”

A brief pause and elegant hands took up the order, diving into the dark of the white wooden cabinet and strolling back over to the sofa.

“do you know how to strike it?”

The blonde man plucks a match out of the box, stares down and strikes it on his teeth.

“I’m not that young.”

The black-haired man wants to make a joke of it- ask about the party trick, make light of the dramatic gesture. But sadly, it works, the blonde man’s little living movie scene gimmick, and while the air between them grows thick all he can do is breath in and lean back, salivate. Candles on the coffee table lit, the blonde man sinks into the seat next to him, breathes even in the silence and doesn’t look away from the flame.

Three years in a cold, golden counterweight. In a joke gone bad and a cheesy gimmick.

The blonde man swore to himself this wouldn’t end with them in bed.

The black-haired man swore inwardly that this could only end with them in bed.

And the night swore nothing, just lay itself on their laps, belly-up and threateningly expectant.

#my writing #cabin boyfriends

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versatilewindow · 4 years

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My Mortal Enemy

Find it on Ao3

Summary: I saw a tumblr post that said, reader insert fic but make it about being enemies instead of lovers, and I immediately came up with this. Read either as an OC or yourself as you go about your day, and finish by curb stomping Sasuke. First chapter is an OC, inspired by the writing style in My Immortal. The second chapter is the same plot but reader insert, inspired by cringey wattpad writing.

A/N: Repost bc i hated the format it was in before. In case it is not clear, this is satire, anyway hope it makes you giggle, also ao3 has a reader version in chapter 2, its the same thing but y/n instead of the oc

I, Blake Dracon’ia Lunacy Crow Wentz, woke up in my cozy bed in Konoha and turned on my favorite Waterparks song (A/N: I know they don't exist in the Naruto world but suc my pp i can do what i want XP) No one else I know listens to them, but I guess I'm quirky like that. I got out of bed and looked in the mirror, I have long midnight black hair (which matches my soul xD) and have two different colored orbs, one pink, and one that's almost darker than my hair. I then turned my attention downward to my big ol’ honkin tiddies. They have been huge since I started puberty when I was 11, now I am 18 and they are impossibly large. Continuing downward I saw my tiny, 24 inch waist; that in combination with my humongo tiddies and juicy earthquake creating ass made me the object of every boy’s attention. I mean my cheeks are just constantly clapping as I walked it made being a sneaky ninja so hard DX, like if I were to run or twerk it would cause a 8.0 earthquake, and if I were sprinting or throwing it back for a real one, it also creates a sonic boom, shattering every eardrum in a 100 yard radius. All of these problems are manageable tho bc I have the tightest, moistest, Gorilla Grip™ coochie, like it sounds like a fresh pot of Kraft mac n cheese.

Then I got changed into my favorite clothes. I put on a v-neck fishnet bodysuit and black Sleeping with Sirens crop top, which was just the right length to cover my nips, and show off the tattoo on my stomach that said “For my vampire boyfriend’s eyes only” with two arrows pointing downwards and upwards. I also put on cute pink leather assless chaps with a lot of chains on them, with a checkered studded belt to hold them up. Then I pulled on my ginormous 12 inch stilettos that have skulls and glitter all over them (If you think the way she dresses is “slutty” then get da hell out of here!!!!) Then I put my super long black hair into high pigtails which made me super Kawaii!!! And then I did my make up. Yes I put on makeup, but not for anyone, I do it for me, so that the outside matches the inside. I used stickers and blush to make it look like there were heart freckles on my face and I put my eyeliner on so that it looked super sharp and pointy. I also made my lipstick look like I had just eaten a cherry popsicle, so it was super concentrated in the center and faded out. To finish off the look, I put on my ninja forehead guard, but tied it around my super tiny waist and I was ready to go out and get groceries.

I had finished getting my groceries, which were mainly dumplings, takis, and Monster energy drink, when I saw HIM, my mortal enemy, Sasuke Uchiha. Ever since the academy, we hated each other, it was a constant battle to see who was more angst, emo, punk, and goth than the other. He doesn't even care about his friends!!! So not punk or Cash Money! I mean I also had a tragic backstory. My dad was an Uchiha, who had an affair with a Hyuga, meaning I was born with both types of dojutsu, then when I was two, they were both killed by Madara Uchiha, who then watched over me until the actual Sage of Six Paths beat him up and he gave me the Rinnegan, and made me capable of using all the powers of the tailed beasts (even the ten-tails!!;!!,.!!) And no, despite all of this I am NOT op. Point blank periodt!!!!

Anyway Sasuke and I caught eyes because the clap of my ass cheeks alerted him from across the street, and he ran towards me activating his sharingan/rinnegan. But he was too late, had already used my Super Speed Shadow Asscheeks Jutsu, causing him to go deaf, and I activated my Byakugan, Sharingan, and Rinnegan Combo eyes. (I can use them all individually but this is my mortal enemy, so I can't take any chances >:3c) Because of my dojutsu. Sasuke just stood there, and I used my taijustu skills to beat the shit out of him.

By now we had attracted a huge crowd, Naruto was there, looking mad because I was beating up his boyfriend (If you dont think theyre boyfriends then you're homophobic!!/11) Sakura and Ino were also there clinging to each other for safety because while they used to like like Sasuke, they realized over the 4th Shinobi war that they were actually in love with each other and got married as soon as the battle was over!! (If you dont think Sakura and Ino would be girlfriends if Kishimoto actually knew how to write a well rounded female character then you’re still homophobic!!!) Then from the crowd I heard Shikamaru and Kakashi and Kurenai cheering me on!!!

“Yes girl curb stomp the shit out of him!!!”

“Show him who’s boss!!!”

“Teach him about what a Poser he is!!! He doesn’t even know who Brendon Urie is !!!!!”

That line got me really mad, How can you even pretend to be emo or punk without knowing who Brendon Urie is????????!!!!! >:^(((. So I concentrated all my chakra into my fist, (like Tsunade but came up with the move first!!!!) and Pummeled Sasuke in the solar plexus, and he flew off into the air, up in the sky to space, a la Team Rocket (If u dont kno who they are then ur the biggest chump ever!!!!!) And then Sasuke came back down and said that I was the most goth, emo, punk person in the whole Land of Fire, and apologized for not knowing who Brendon Urie is. I wish he stayed up in space, but that would’ve made Naruto sad, and he’s my 6th cousin 9th removed, and keeping my friends and family happy is part of my Ninja Way! Believe it!

#Sasuke x reader #sasuke x oc #Naruto #whenever i think about this fic i feel shame #but i also laugh uncontrollably so

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romewritingshop · 4 years

Text

Wake up Parker! - Chapter 7: This is the one!

Relationship: Peter Parker x Tall Older Reader (Peter is 22 and Reader is 26/27)

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 1802 (This Chapter)

Summary: Peter Parker is a student in the city of Brooklyn. He’s lazy, spoilt and he procrastinates a lot. He meets a woman named (Y/N), She’s recently moved to Brooklyn for an independent life. Something Peter is fascinated by. Over the course of a few months, Peter needs to realise that he has to grow up and become responsible for his life.

Tagged: @bggerbtch

WAKE UP PARKER! MASTERLIST

(Y/N) took a glance at the address she noted at the back of a McDonald’s receipt. Sure enough this was the place as she glanced up at the red maple coloured building. It looked pretty and was tall. The street was nice as well as she watched a group of kids play basketball and a couple walking their dog. The sun gave a bright yellow glow to the trees and (Y/N) was liking the place so far.

“So this is where Peter Quill sent you.”

(Y/N) jumped and noticed Peter standing to her left, dressed in a black t-shirt with a Rick and Morty imprint on the front. Rucksack on his back and dark black jeans. How the hell did he sneak up on her like that?

“Oh my god! Peter! What are you doing here?”

“Me? I'm ... stalking you.”

(Y/N) shook her head and shoved Peter.

“Shut up! It’s not funny.”

“I called Quill and he told me you'd be here. So I thought I'd come and help you.”

“Nice. Well it’s good to have a second opinion on things. Shall we?”

Peter and (Y/N) stepped through the dark door and trudged up to the third floor, where Peter Quill mentioned that a ‘Natasha’ had the keys to the empty apartment. (Y/N) looked nice in blue jeans and a grey sweater. Peter grimaced at the dull colours of the corridors. The blue had dark splotches of black and it was messy. It smelt and looked like someone was murdered.

“Maybe we should try someplace else (Y/N). I don’t think this has been cleaned in years.”

“I think it gives character and age to the building. Don’t judge it too harshly. We haven’t even seen the apartment yet.”

They managed to reach the third floor and both of them huffed. (Y/N) felt a little burn and knew she needed to be fit and healthy to go up and down these stairs if this was going to be the place she would live in.

“This building doesn't have a lift! You really want to drag yourself up and down these stairs everytime you go to work!”

“It’ll motivate me to be fit.” They stood in the corridor of the floor, glancing between two doors. Number 10 and 12. “Well there’s number 12. That’s the apartment, we’re meant to see. But I don’t see a 'Natasha' here. I can't climb up and down knocking on every door.”

She noticed Peter smirking smugly. Probably laughing at her dilemma.

“What’s funny? Why don’t you do it?”

“Number 10. Natasha Romanoff lives in apartment 10.”

Peter and (Y/N) turn to the stairs behind them and notice a brown haired girl sitting on the ascending stairs. Dressed in a pink full sleeved shirt and denim skirt, brown boots and pink hairband. She had a bright gleam on her face at the prospects of new people. She jumped up and went over to number 10, knocking on the door.

“You've come to see the apartment, haven't you? Just one minute.”

Peter and (Y/N) smile as the girl knocks a third time around. At that moment the door opens, and it feels like a scene from a movie. A woman with vibrant red hair steps out and the window blows the hair delicately. She’s dressed in a silk black negligee and a long red dressing gown. She was obviously Natasha as Peter’s jaw dropped at the sight of her. (Y/N) stifled a smug grin at Peter’s reaction and the little girl had a bright smile at seeing her best friend. Natasha notices the girl and ties her red gown up.

“Hey Cassie, it's you. What’s the news?”

“Got a couple of chumps that want to see the apartment.”

(Y/N) giggled at Cassie and Peter frowned a little. Peter was no chump. He brought the bag strap a little close to his chest. Natasha turned her glance to Peter and (Y/N), straightening her posture at the sight of Peter. He was cute.

“Intel’s a little off, Agent Lang. They’re no chumps.” Natasha stepped up to the duo and held out her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Natasha. I hear you’ve come to see the apartment.”

Peter raised his hand to shake Natasha's.

"Hi. I'm Peter Parker. It's my friend, (Y/N), who's here to see the apartment."

Natasha turns to (Y/N) and shakes her hand as well.

"Hi."

Natasha sighs at Peter dreamily and saunters into her apartment. She comes across as an ethereal being. She saunters! (Y/N) and Peter watch as she disappears and reappears with keys in her hand. Tossing them towards Peter before standing out in the doorway with Cassie.

"Anyways, I should warn you. The apartment's really dirty. It's been a year since someone's stayed there."

"Yeah! Especially since Mr. Murdock went blind."

(Y/N) and Peter's eyes widened and Natasha lightly slapped Cassie's shoulder.

"Cassie! One of the neighbours, Matt Murdock had an accident recently so he's moved to the ground floor. That's why here's been zero maintenance. But, see for yourself. Any questions, ask Cassie."

"Cassie!"

Natasha and Cassie's face scrunch up slightly at the voice of a male. (Y/N) and Peter turned to see a brown haired man in dark trousers and black t-shirt trudge down the stairs.

"Cassie, there you are - Oh. Hi."

The man notices (Y/N) and Peter and shakes their hand, introducing himself.

"I'm Scott Lang. Cassie's father. I guess you're here to see number 12."

(Y/N) gives a nod.

"That I am."

"Nice, I would love to stay and chat but Cassie has homework to do. Come on, Peanut."

Cassie's face dropped as she dragged herself up the stairs. Scott sent a quick greeting to Natasha and followed Cassie up the stairs. Natasha explained about Scott to (Y/N) and Peter.

"Scott lives at number 14, above me. He's nice, most of the time. He recently got laid off his job so he's a little tense. Normally he would have stayed and chatted ages with you. Anyways, go ahead and have a look at the apartment. If you need anything, feel free to knock on my door."

(Y/N) gave a nod and smile and went to the door, to unlock it. The neighbours seemed lovely and (Y/N) was starting to feel like this was the place she wanted to live in. Peter was a little put off by the various characters in the building.

The both of them stepped into the apartment and Natasha was right about it being dirty. There were cobwebs and dirt marks on the walls. It was bare except for the open joint kitchen. There were two doors on the left as (Y/N) stepped into the first door on the left. It was an empty room with a dusty window. It was cosy. The next room was a small bathroom. A bathtub and shower combo which is great for (Y/N). On some days she can take a nice long bath and busy days will be hot showers.

Peter was looking around at the small dirty apartment. How could anyone stand to live here? Morgan’s room was way better than this apartment. This independence thing was starting to sound like a mistake. (Y/N) was liking what she was seeing so far. Loving! She stepped out of the bathroom and saw the open kitchen. Stepping towards it and examining it. The oven looked like it still works and (Y/N) tested the water by the sink. There’s hot and cold water. She stepped to the fire escape window and opened it. Stepping onto the fire escape and enjoying the cool breeze.

(Y/N) could imagine herself stepping out here every morning with her tea. Watching the neighbours walk by and the kids playing together. Her heart has settled for this place. This is where she wants to stay. (Y/N) snapped out of her day dream when Peter started complaining.

“(Y/N)! I don’t think you should stay here. It's like a haunted house here. Let's go. This place is a dump!”

She came away from the fire escape and stood in the middle of the room.

“Peter. You're going to think that I'm crazy.”

Peter watched (Y/N)’s face and immediately his eyes widened. (Y/N) was not serious. The look on Peter’s face said it for (Y/N). She gleamed and was about to strut over to Natasha’s apartment. Peter caught her wrist and pulled her back into the room.

“Are you serious (Y/N)?”

“Absolutely. I actually like this apartment.”

“That's impossible! It's filthy.”

“So we'll clean it.”

“You know, Morgan’s room is bigger than this.”

“Well, good for Morgan. I'm taking this flat.”

Peter kept trying to make excuses on the flat being unacceptable but (Y/N) was having none of it. She has decided. (Y/N) pulls her wrist away from Peter and steps out the door, heading upstairs. Peter follows after her.

“Where are you going? Natsha’s apartment was that way.”

“I want to check out my building's terrace.”

“Your building? You haven’t even seen the other apartments yet!”

“I really don’t care, Pete because this is where I want to live.”

They go up the stairs and reach a small door. Pushing it open and (Y/N) steps out onto the roof. Peter calls out and they both stand in front of each other. Peter is looking up at (Y/N) to ensure he has her full attention.

“(Y/N). Are you really sure you wanna live here? If it's about money, maybe I can help you. I'll ask Mr. Stark for some.”

(Y/N) shook her head and ruffled Peter’s hair.

“Peter, it sounds like a nice offer but I don’t need it. My job will hopefully be enough to help me survive plus I’ve got some savings.”

She turns left and her eye catches the view. Peter keeps going on about the apartment being wrong for her.

“God! You're so stubborn! Listen, I don't think this area's very safe. Why don't I do some research and send you an email? Look, you're not from here, you don't -”

(Y/N) grabbed Peter’s chin and moved his face to what she was seeing. His rant disappeared as his eyes were drawn to the wide view of the sea and Manhattan. It was gorgeous. Just like the view at the Empire Fulton Park. The buildings sparkled against the yellow sun and the sea danced calmly. This was an aesthetic. The both of them walked a little distance away from the edge. Peter knew that (Y/N) had to take this apartment.

“Pete, do you really want to help me? Help me turn this 'dump ' into a home?”

“Yeah.”

CHAPTER EIGHT: PLANS FOR THE FUTURE?

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker tom holland #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic au #marvel au #marvel crossover #mcu #mcu au #indian movie au #indian au #bollywood #bollywood au #wake up sid #wake up sid au

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Leave No Trace (Chap. 18)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

Patton wasn't where he was supposed to be.

He didn't know much else. Everything was black and his head hurt and he was having trouble thinking. He'd just been asleep. Which meant he should be in his bed. Or at least on the ground under the stars. But he couldn't see any stars and he was sitting up? Maybe? He couldn't feel his legs. He tried to shake them and they tingled, not moving very far at all. He was trapped. That wasn't right. Usually in bed, he could move.

Why couldn't he see anything?

He couldn't hear, either. Nothing but the pounding of blood in his skull. All he could do was feel—feel the rough edge of his overalls, the stickiness at the back of his head, his hair flopping limply over his face. Rough ropes around his wrists and ankles. Sweat pooling under his collar. It was warm in here. Warm and damp and smelling like something Patton couldn't place.

Patton shook his head to try and clear it. Mistake. Pain welled up and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter and waiting for it to fade.

"Pat?"

Virgil.

"Virgil!" Patton blurted out, eyes flying open. "Are you okay?"

"Shh!"

Patton looked around. It was still dark, but his eyes were adjusting, and now he could see a few faint glimmers of fire. He twisted around to where Virgil's voice had been—it was harder than it should be, he was being held in place by several loosely tied ropes—and saw Virgil nearby, curled up next to a wall of solid rock, a bit of dried blood by his hairline. His eyes were narrowed and his breathing was shallow.

He was tied up, too. Patton reached for Virgil's ropes and tried to tug them away.

"No use," Virgil muttered, barely making any sound.

"I could—" Patton remembered the fire he'd used against Janus—Janus, Janus, no, not thinking about that—and how it had burst so easily from his hands. "If I was careful, I could burn—"

Virgil shook his head minutely. "They'd see."

"Who—"

Then Patton realized someone else was talking.

Slowly and carefully, he turned back and got his first good look at where they were.

They'd been dropped like sacks of potatoes at the edge of a large cavern. Fire gleamed at the edges, not on any candles or torches, but just little bits of ground that burned yellow and gold. Stalactites—or stalagmites? Patton could never remember which—hung from the ceiling high above, glittering in the firelight, sharp enough to skewer Patton right through. A few tunnels were sunk into the wall, dark and empty, none near enough to make a break for it.

And inside were the dragons.

Well, they had to be dragons. They didn't much look like dragons, except for one blue dragon with a speckled snout and a broken horn. They just looked like people. Most of them were adult-sized, but a few kids were trying to climb the wall, looking unbothered by whatever was happening. Some dragons sat on the ground, lounging against the rocks. Others stood up by the wall. Patton didn't recognize any of them, just their features—most had the same narrow nose, some the same brown hair, a few even had similar eyes. They were all related, that was much was obvious. And they were all interested in something. Some were whispering to each other, others glancing over at Patton and Virgil every few seconds, eyes wide.

Patton tried to look nonthreatening. Maybe he should close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. Virgil was doing that—either that, or he'd drifted into unconsciousness again. But Patton was still looking. He was scanning the crowd for one dragon in particular.

And there he was. Leaning against the edge of one of the tunnels, playing with his sleeve, hair hanging over his face. But it was him. The same yellow shirt, the same thin hands, the same smooth brown hair.

Patton noticed it was less tangled than before. He'd had time to brush it.

How long had they been unconscious?

Unconscious because of Janus—

Nope. Nope. He was not going down that road, not now, because it made his chest seize up and something inside of him rip open.

Patton stared at Janus for a second longer, willing Janus to look up, hoping against hope that he'd see something that explained all of this. That made Patton feel less shattered.

And Janus did look up.

He looked up, met Patton's eyes, and looked away.

If there was anything to see, Patton missed it.

The knife in his heart twisted a little bit deeper.

Patton turned his head away and tried to listen instead. Some of the dragons were talking. Were they speaking a different language? He didn't recognize the sounds. No, it was the same language, those were words Patton recognized. It was just the dialect. Dragons spoke with languid ease, dropping consonants at the end and tilting every vowel around until it sounded just a bit different than Patton's version. He hadn't noticed Janus having an accent, but now that he looked back, he realized Janus had always spoken just a bit slower and smoother than Patton, words blending into each other.

Patton concentrated hard and tried to listen.

"…not safe if…"

He shook the cobwebs from his mind again, ignoring the flash of pain that caused, and pricked his ears.

"…should let them go," one dragon was saying, with glasses and a pink cardigan and a frown on his face. "We can't have humans just wandering around the Mountain, and the little things can't be any threat! If we just let them leave, this entire thing can be over—"

"That's such a waste!" argued another dragon, this one swallowed by a dark hoodie and leaning against the wall like he had better things to do than try and stand up on his own. "Emile, don't be dense! They've just wandered into our domain, we should make use of this!"

"We should just kill them," said a third dragon, tossing her short hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. "I don't like them already."

"They haven't even talked," a fourth pointed out.

"They don't need to. I don't like them."

"You don't like anyone," said the first dragon—Emile?

The third dragon shrugged, smiling guiltily. "Kill them. That's all I'm saying."

"It'd be such a drag." That was Remy, Patton remembered, sitting with his legs spread out. A small dragon was sitting on his knee and poking at his shoe. He vaguely swatted at her. "Killing makes a real big mess. And it smells really nasty."

"Then get them to help us out," said the second dragon, hands stuck deep in his hoodie. "We can have them work for us—there's no harm from having a couple other helpers around."

"We already have two," Remy argued, "and two's way more than enough for me. One of them tried to stab me yesterday."

"Kill him," advised the third dragon.

"You always say that."

"One of these days, you'll listen to me."

Remy rolled his eyes. "I hope not."

"Anyway," Emile interrupted, "I really think we should just live and let live here. Maybe they'll find their way back to their home and nobody will get into trouble."

"They'll know where we live!" piped up a shorter dragon with curly dark hair and a rumpled flannel shirt. "They'll come back here with all their friends, and then—wham, bam, destruction, violence, terror, you know the drill. I, for one, do not feel like going through all that."

"Like they could stand up to us," the dragon with the hoodie fired back, sneering. "We could crush them like bugs."

"Yeah, but—"

"You know," Remy said, cutting everyone else off, his eyes shifting over to Janus. "I think we should hear from the person who actually got us stuck with them."

If Janus was surprised to be addressed, he didn't show it. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged in an expert combo. "Couldn't care less what you do with—the humans."

"If you had to choose, then."

"Not my jurisdiction." Janus smiled thinly. "What, asking Js for advice? It's almost like you can't think for yourself."

Remy snorted and didn't rise to the bait. "I'm sure you've got some opinion in there. You've never held back before."

Janus chuckled. "Watch it."

"Enough, you two," Emile said, folding his arms. "Janus? Do you have an opinion?"

Janus glanced around at the dragons who were all now staring in his direction. He took a few seconds before speaking. "Whatever you decide, I'm fine with. But I will say that I didn't drag them through the Woods by their bootstraps for you to just toss them back into the trees."

"Noted," Emile said.

"And." Janus stepped away from the tunnel. "And none of you can actually make this decision, remember?"

Remy winced. Emile clicked his tongue. The other dragons glanced at each other and fell silent.

"Where is she, anyway?" one dragon finally asked, glancing around.

"Ask Emile," another dragon said, growling. "He's her best friend, right?"

"Hardly," Emile admitted. "I think she's—"

"—doing things she wishes," a new voice finished, "and it's none of your concern what they are, understood?"

All the dragons whirled. An older woman with salt-and-pepper hair tied in a rope down her back had slipped out of one of the tunnels. She didn't look like much—petite and round-faced with deep green eyes. But from the way everyone slowly leaned away, she was more powerful than she appeared.

"Hi, Mara," Emile ventured. She gave him a Look that even Virgil or Janus couldn't top.

So this was Mara. Small and silent and lined around the eyes, not even glancing at Patton and Virgil but somehow conveying that she'd already seen them, understood every inch of them, and found them lackluster.

"Stick them with the others," she said. "I don't want them dirtying up any perfectly good caverns. If they cause trouble, toss them off the Mountain. If they don't, maybe we'll do that anyway. All depends on how useful they end up being."

It was pretty similar to what all the other dragons had been saying. But Mara was the first to send real chills down Patton's spine. He had a feeling she would. She'd kill them personally if she felt like it. Without even breaking a sweat.

"Who'll take them?" asked one of the dragons, the words tumbling out in a rush like they were afraid to take up too much time.

"Remy and Emile." Mara turned away and waved a hand. "Now stop loafing about, it's pathetic. I don't have any use for gossipers."

Immediately, all the dragons jumped to their feet and hastily slipped into the tunnels around the cavern. Only a few remained. One whispered something to Mara, who laughed a bit with no humor before disappearing as well.

"Well," Remy said to Emile, "I guess we just drag them?"

"No, they're awake!" Emile waved at Virgil and Patton. "Hi! Sorry about the scare, I guess!"

Patton looked at Virgil for support. Virgil looked about three seconds from passing out again. He was on his own.

"Nice to meet you too," Patton squeaked. "It would be even nicer if you untied us maybe?"

"Don't think about escaping," Remy said idly as Emile walked over and untied the ropes. "You're in the heart of the Mountain right now and there's a maze of caves between here and open air. You'll need a dragon to get out."

"Remy," Emile scolded as the ropes came loose. "You just told them how to escape!"

"Oh." Remy shrugged. "Nah, it's fine. No dragon's gonna risk going against Mara."

"Can you stand?" Emile asked, turning back to Patton. Patton stumbled to his feet. His ankles wobbled and his head spun, but after a few seconds, he felt pretty steady.

"Yeah!" he answered.

"Great!" Emile moved on to Virgil, who stared at him with something between terror and sleepiness. "We're just going to move you to the room with the other two humans, okay?"

"The other two?" Patton had heard that before, but he hadn't dared to hope. "You mean—Logan and Remus?"

Then he realized it probably wasn't a good idea to give away his friendship with them. Yeah, he was here to rescue them, but that had gone a little bit off track. Janus would have stopped him from saying that—

But Janus wasn't here. Janus had disappeared with the other dragons without a glance in Patton's direction.

"Yep," Emile said, and Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Emile seemed alright. Then again, who knew with dragons? "Alright, you two, come with us."

"And don't try anything funny," Remy added, grabbing Virgil's arms and hauling him upright. "I'm really not in the mood to kill anyone tonight."

"Tonight?" Patton decided to ask instead of focusing on the killing part.

"It's night," Emile explained. "You must have gotten hard knocks on the noggin."

"Yeah," Patton said, swallowing.

Emile shoved Patton forward gently, and Patton started walking. Remy led the way, Virgil almost limp in his grasp. Patton stared at the bloody back of Virgil's head to try and get him to turn around. Virgil did briefly, but his eyes were glassy. Patton didn't know if it was from panic or blood loss. Either way, he needed to help his friend now.

But he couldn't. Not until they stopped walking. And the tunnels they'd entered already seemed endless, with dark crannies and dripping ceilings and glowing caves along the side. Patton peeked in a few. He didn't know what he expected—hordes of gold, maybe, or rich tapestries. Instead he saw more dragons. A few of them were really young. Some were reading books, others playing catch, and two must have been playing tag, because they ran right in front of Patton, giggling.

Then they looked up, froze, and stepped backward. Patton glimpsed grubby faces, rough hemlines, and wide eyes.

"Run along," Emile said, not unkindly. "Okay?"

Two brief nods and the kids disappeared into the shadows.

It was so dark. Even with the brief fire that Remy spat into the air, Patton could barely see either end of the tunnel. He assumed dragons had some night vision. He certainly didn't. He kept stumbling over rocks and bumping into corners. He couldn't imagine how bad it was for Virgil, who was still practically listless, Remy half-dragging him along.

Patton tried to memorize which direction they went. But he knew it was pointless. If he remembered correctly, which he probably wouldn't, he'd just get back to that cavern. He had no idea how to escape from there.

Janus would know.

Janus wasn't here.

Janus had betrayed them, just like he'd said, and now Patton and Virgil were alone in a dark mountain with only dragons for company.

Dragons…and their friends.

Patton tried to focus on that part of things. Yes, his newest friend had attacked them. Yes, he might never see the sunlight again. Yes, they were one wrong word away from being tossed off the Mountain. But they'd finally reached Logan and Remus! He'd be able to see them again! And maybe they could still pull off this rescue mission!

Yeah. Who was he kidding? Patton couldn't pull off a shoe in his current state, and it was four teenagers against fifty dragons.

Patton had never felt so absolutely stuck. Trapped under layers of rock, far from the sun and the sky and the trees. The Woods had been terrible but there was always a path, always a way out, and they always managed to slip through the branches and make it out alive.

If there was a path here, it was too dark to see it.

Lost in his thoughts, Patton didn't notice when they slowed to a stop. But he did notice a careful shove in the middle of his back that sent him tumbling into a small cavern lit with a golden, shaky glow.

"Stay here," Emile advised.

"Yeah, wandering the tunnels is a fast way to get a broken skull." Remy propped Virgil up against the wall. Virgil promptly slid to the ground. "Now you four play nice, okay? See you soon."

You four?

And Patton was left alone, Emile and Remy disappearing soundlessly through the little archway. The cavern around him was just the same as millions of others. Patton stepped after Emile and Remy but the darkness in the distance made his heart flutter. Besides, he couldn't leave Virgil.

Patton turned around again to take a look at their new prison. A few stalagtites, the glow of a dirty oil lamp, a cobbled-together bunk bed—

And Logan and Remus, staring at Patton with wide eyes, mouths open.

Oh.

Oh!

Patton's face split into a grin and he rushed forward. Remus tumbled off the bed and Logan followed, and before Patton could even open his arms he was swept up in a huge hug. Remus' hair tickled his chin as he was spun around again and again. Patton squeezed his eyes shut and giggled until the movement stopped and he touched down on solid rock. Another arm wrapped around his shoulders and Patton looked up.

Remus was still hugging him, his eyes bright and his smile huge, raking in every inch of Patton. Logan pressed as close to them as he could. His smile was smaller. His eyebrows were pinched in concern.

"You're here," Remus blurted out, laughing a bit, patting Patton down and squeezing him even tighter. "You're here! Patty-cake, I missed you!"

"Missed you too," Patton said, his own throat closing up. Remus was smiling so wide. It should have made him happy, his friends by his side, warm and close and smiling and there.

Instead, Patton just felt cold.

And Remus must have felt it, because he let Patton go and stepped back, smile cracking at the edges.

"You're here," Remus said again. Not a shout of triumph. Quiet and small and worried.

"Why are you here?" Logan asked. His smile was completely gone. "You shouldn't—Patton, what did you do?"

Patton opened his mouth, found all the words he tried to say got jumbled up in his head, and settled for shrugging sheepishly.

"Patton." Logan looked alarmed now. "You're—does anyone have any idea you're here—Patton!"

"Virgil does," Patton protested.

Virgil!

He'd forgotten about Virgil. Oh, he was such a bad friend, why couldn't he be a little less selfish for three seconds?

Patton dashed over to Virgil. Virgil had managed to tuck himself neatly into a little corner, water wetting the edges of his hoodie, knees pressed to his chest. He looked awake and alert, but he wasn't saying anything, and he was just staring into the distance. He hadn't tried to join the others. He hadn't tried to move at all.

"Virgil." Patton crouched next to Virgil and reached out. Then he pulled back. Then he reached out again. Then he settled for hovering his hands over Virgil's shoulder like Virgil was a flame he was afraid to go near.

"Virgil, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Virgil looked up. "Yeah," he mumbled. "'M fine."

"You don't sound fine!" Patton tried to peek around and see Virgil's injury. "You got knocked on the head pretty hard. Do you have a concussion? Oh my gosh, you could have a concussion!" Patton stuck up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two. What's happening?" Virgil tried to pull himself up and only managed to slide back down the wall. "Pat—"

"Don't try to move. You could still be really hurt." Patton drummed his hands on his knees as he tried to think of what to do. Logan would know—Logan!

"Logan!" Patton yelled. "Virgil's hurt, come see!"

"I don't know how much I could do," Logan said, but he sat next to Patton anyway. "Virgil, what happened? Does anything hurt?"

"My head," Virgil said. His breathing was labored and way too shallow. "Um—and I'm, um, kind of panicking, right now? So—could you—" Virgil pushed at thin air. "Get—back? I kind of want some space, I'm—"

"Oh! Of course!" Patton scooted back. "Is that better?"

"You too, Lo." Virgil winced. "Sorry, I just—it's all—"

"Completely understandable." Logan leaned away and tucked his hands behind his back. "Would you like me to run you through some breathing exercises?"

"I think I've got it." Virgil closed his eyes and breathed in and out. Patton recognized the pattern. 4-7-8. Over and over. And slowly, Virgil's shoulders relaxed. Patton hadn't realized how tense Virgil had looked until he was loosening up, bit by bit.

"I—" Virgil took one more breath. "Yeah, I think I'm okay now. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize!" Patton said. "I should have known this would be a lot to handle."

"Tell me about it." Virgil shuddered. "I thought I'd be alright, since most of them weren't actually dragons, but we're all trapped and it was really dark and small and I couldn't see anything and—"

"Virgil, you're going to spiral again." Logan's voice was soft. "How about you tell me how you feel physically? According to Patton, you're injured."

"It's not that bad," Virgil said. He reached up and felt the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody, but the blood was dry and dark. "It aches a little bit, but I can think straight. Well, as much as I ever can. 'M not straight."

Patton wasn't sure whether to count silly jokes as a sign of a concussion. He decided to err on the safe side. "Well, don't move for a little while still, okay? And don't fall asleep. Maybe we can wrap your head? Do you guys—"

"I got everything we've got," Remus said, appearing by Patton's shoulder with uncharacteristic suddenness. Patton didn't know Remus could move that quietly. "Candles, some extra food, Logan's other shirt, a wrench, a smaller wrench, something that Logan says is a carved bird but it looks more like an octopus that got stabbed—"

"Focus," Logan said wearily, but Patton noticed the little upwards tug of his mouth.

"Right. Right. Right." Remus extended one grubby hand. "This?"

Patton took it. It was a roll of paper, low-quality, and half of it was scribbled on already.

"It's not much," Remus said, probably seeing Patton's expression, "but Logan used up all the other paper when I got a bloody nose. So."

"I think I'm fine for now." Virgil looked between Remus and Logan. "Um, thanks, though. And it's—good to see you guys."

"I wish I could say the same." Logan's mouth twisted. "I'm glad you're alright, Virgil. Now why in the world are you here?"

"Wait, was there another raid?" Remus' eyes widened. "Is Roman okay? He was hurt when we left—crap, crap, is he okay?"

Patton wanted to say that he knew Roman was fine.

But he only knew that he hoped Roman was fine. And if Janus proved anything, it's that Patton's hopes didn't translate to reality.

"I don't know," Patton admitted. "We, um—he was alright when we saw him last. He's got an injured shoulder."

"Oh." Remus sat down, running one hand along the cavern floor. "That's…good. I think."

"What happened?" Logan asked once again. Patton still didn't have an answer.

"We, um—" Virgil looked at Patton, either for help or encouragement. Patton nodded and tried to smile at Virgil encouragingly. He probably looked like he was grimacing instead because he couldn't remember how to smile properly.

"We came to help you guys," Virgil finished, cringing as he spoke, probably aware of the irony. "Um, as you can see, it didn't really go well."

"You came to—" Logan blinked a few times. "What?"

"Why?" Remus exclaimed at the same time, much louder.

"Because we care about you!" Patton said, his protective friend instincts kicking in. "Why wouldn't we try to help?"

"Because—" Remus flailed his arms wildly at everything around them. "Because you're not stupid?"

"I think what Remus is trying to say," Logan said, leaning over and placing a hand on Remus' back, "is that we have no idea how you would have tried to accomplish that without putting yourselves at risk."

"We, um, yeah." Patton took a deep steadying breath. It caught in his throat and now he was burning at the edges again, the seams under his eyes and the slices at the back of his throat all catching fire and aching. "We went through the Woods to try and—rescue you guys, I guess? It was—" Patton slumped all the way to the ground, sitting criss-cross-applesauce and staring at his feet. "It wasn't a good plan."

"Through the Woods? You mean the Iron Woods?" Remus' eyes lit up. "You survived? Holy heck, what's in there? Did you see any Faeries? Did you smash any Faeries? I mean 'smash' like kill them, but also the other kind of smashing, I've heard they're really hot—"

"No," Virgil protested, snickering a bit. "Weirdo. But, um, yes."

"Yes to the smashing?"

"Yes to the seeing of Faeries." Virgil's eyes flickered over to Patton. Patton didn't bother to try and stop him. "We saw…a lot of stuff. Fought some of it. Fell off cliffs. It was a fun time."

"You…" Logan looked like someone had just told him the earth was flat. "Virgil, those woods are incredibly dangerous. Entering them would be akin to jumping into an active volcano."

"Yeah, pretty much." Virgil shrugged. "It was Patton's idea anyway. I just tagged along."

Patton flushed as both Logan and Remus turned to look at him with varying degrees of incredulity. "Look," he protested, "it seemed like a good idea at the time—"

"I leave," Logan said, "for two weeks and suddenly you're gallivanting into the Iron Woods—"

"You didn't leave, you were kidnapped!" Virgil snapped. "And forgive us for trying to help."

Logan pressed his lips together and looked away. Patton realized that both him and Remus looked drawn and pale. Remus was sporting eye bags that rivaled Virgil's, his hair even more of a rat's nest than usual, a scrape down the length of his jaw. Logan's tie was loose, there were several tears in his shirt, and when he shifted Patton noticed the edge of a purple bruise on his neck.

"You shouldn't have," Remus said. There was a note in there that Patton didn't recognize. Flat and sharp and two seconds away from breaking.

"Yeah, well too late now." Virgil sighed and let his head fall back onto the wall. "We were worried. We tried to rescue you. We got farther than we thought, but now we're here, and I guess it was all kind of pointless."

Patton tried to find a counterargument. He was the optimistic one, right? But nothing came to mind.

Logan glanced between them. "Virgil, if you're still feeling alright, we can move you to the bed. It might be more comfortable."

Virgil nodded and stood up. Patton reached out to steady him and Virgil brushed Patton off. He made his own way to the bed and sat on the edge. Patton, following, surreptitiously checked Virgil's injury. It was a little matted with blood but it didn't look super deep. Still, if it knocked him out for hours, it might have messed some stuff up. Patton wished they had a nurse. Or anything, really. He wished he could see better in the dim candlelight, he wished they were still free and outside, he wished—

Patton cut himself off. His thoughts were skating the edge of that pit again, brushing up against the elephant in the room, and repression was bad but maybe he could just ignore it for a little while longer until it hurt less to think about.

Virgil half-collapsed onto the bed. Logan sat by the headboard and grabbed a book, running his hands along it like it comforted him. Remus took a running leap and landed on the ladder, making the whole bed creak and shake. Two big steps and he was on the top bunk, poking his head over and letting his arms dangle, so close that Patton could reach over and push one. Maybe he would have, any other day. Today he just folded his hands in his lap and waited for someone to speak.

"If it's alright," Logan said, his voice barely audible over the dripping of the stalactites and the rustling of Remus above them, "I'd like to hear what's happened since we were—since we left."

"You or me?" Virgil asked, turning to Patton.

It should be Patton. It should always be Patton. Patton needed to tell the story. Patton needed to save the day. Patton needed to help, to bear the burden. What good was he if he didn't?

"Go ahead, kiddo," Patton said weakly. Because he was still a coward.

So Virgil told the story instead. Quick and brusque and leaving out a million details. Patton could have chimed in. He could have said how brave Virgil was fighting the snake, the way they'd struggled up the first mountain, the beauty of the stars at night, telling stories around the fire, healing Ja—getting across the bridge. But Patton didn't add anything. He just sat there, like a useless lump, not even bothering to try and look interested.

Virgil didn't excise Janus from the story, which was nice and also hurt because every time Patton heard the name his heart shifted out of position and pulled at his arteries and stung like cold steel, the deepest pain he'd ever felt in his life.

Pathetic.

Logan asked questions. Remus asked dirty questions. Both of them exchanged looks when Virgil explained that Janus was the dragon they'd been fighting during the raid, but they kept their mouths shut, and Patton was grateful.

Virgil also excluded the bits about Patton's magic, maybe for Patton's sake, maybe because it didn't make much sense to Virgil because Patton hadn't ever talked about it in detail with Virgil because he'd done all his talking with Janus—

Stupid.

"…so Remy showed up," Virgil continued, his voice remarkably calm. How could he talk about this so easily, like it was just another fairytale, a story where everyone got out okay? "He taunted us for a bit, said he was gonna get the others, and then—"

Patton's fists clenched.

And then.

"And then…" Virgil's voice trailed off.

"And then what?" Remus asked, leaning even farther over the edge. His face was red and his eyes were excited. "Keep going, emo, this is the most exciting thing I've heard in weeks!"

"And then I don't know." Virgil's hand drifted to the back of his head. "I was talking to Janus, and then—I woke up here."

Patton swallowed.

Virgil looked confused now. Confused and scared. "I don't know—it wasn't—Patton? I don't remember—should I remember?"

"Probably not," Patton managed to say. His voice was raspy, like he'd been crying. But he hadn't, he'd just wanted to. "You got knocked out from behind."

"Who—"

Patton looked away again.

"He—" Virgil's voice broke. Virgil knew all along. Virgil must have guessed. And Patton figured he'd be rejoicing, since Janus was finally proved the villain, since Virgil was proved right in what he'd been saying all along.

But when Patton looked up, Virgil's eyes were shining, his hand clutching at his sleeve and his mouth slightly open.

"He didn't," Virgil said, a weak protest against a truth that couldn't be erased.

Patton stifled a sob and managed a "Yeah."

"He—no." Virgil sat back on the bed. "No."

"You can't say you didn't see it coming," Patton echoed, his voice cracking in about seven different places. A smile spread across his face, finally, except it was all wrong and painful and shaky and hurt so much to maintain except he couldn't stop. "We all saw it coming. He said he was gonna, you said he was gonna, I knew he was gonna. And then—" Patton grinned wildly and made little jazz hands. "Yay! We were right!"

Virgil stared at Patton. "Did—what did he say?"

"He said—" Several rocks suddenly clogged up Patton's throat. He had to swallow hard to clear it. "He said it wasn't personal."

"Did…" Virgil bit his lip. "Did he say sorry?"

Patton shook his head.

Virgil swore. Remus swore in solidarity, or maybe because he just liked to swear.

"Pat, I—I'm sorry," Virgil finally said, placing a hand on Patton's shoulder. And Patton shook it off, because he was petty and selfish and not in the mood for comfort. "That's—I hate him."

"No, you don't," Patton said, because Virgil didn't. If Virgil hated anyone right now, it'd be Patton, for disregarding Virgil's warnings and getting them all trapped.

"No, I don't." Virgil curled up a bit on the bed, still giving Patton an achingly sympathetic look. Patton wanted to yell at him. To scream at him to stop. But the anger was strangely distant and all he could do was sit there, numb, knowing he was being pitied and knowing he didn't deserve it.

"I liked him," Virgil admitted, voice quiet. "And I'm—I'm mad. And upset. But…I didn't like him the way you did, so I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Patton said, deciding to focus on that instead of the liking part of things.

"I'm sorry on your behalf." Virgil scooted forward and reached out to touch Patton's knee. But he stopped himself. The hand hovered in the air, an unspoken invitation, and Patton didn't take it.

"I'm fine," Patton said, even though nobody had said he wasn't and he usually didn't like to lie.

"You're not." That was Logan, who'd been silent up until now, maybe sensing this wasn't his place to intervene. "You're not fine, and that's fine."

"You're upset." Virgil shook his head and exhaled. "He—damn, Janus messed up. And he hurt you, and me. You're allowed—encouraged—to be upset about that."

"We all saw it coming," Patton insisted, aware that his sickening smile was finally falling off his face, trying vainly to scrounge it back up but everything was shifting loose and something nasty was boiling in his stomach. "I shouldn't be—"

"There's no should here." And oh, that was so close to what Janus said, and another slice of pain wracked Patton's body. "C'mon. Let it out, Pat."

"I'm being stupid!" Patton almost yelled, grabbing at himself, trying to force everything back in. "This is stupid, I shouldn't care, I should—I should be helping you guys instead of being upset—I shouldn't care what he does! It doesn't matter! I'm being selfish!"

"Oh, Pat." Virgil looked heartbroken, and there, that was Patton's fault, wasn't it? Everything was always Patton's fault, even though he tried so hard. It was never enough. He was never good enough, smart enough, kind enough, helpful enough, and he hurt everything around him because he was bad and he was never going to get any better, no matter what Janus said—Janus was a liar and all he did was lie and he promised but it didn't mean anything at all—

Patton choked on a sob.

"Pat." Virgil reached out again and Patton flinched away. "It doesn't matter that you shouldn't care. You do."

"Yeah, and that's pretty stupid of me, isn't it?" Patton wiped at his eyes with one sleeve. "I hate lying, and I knew he was going to hurt us, and I just let him—I just let him! I just believed him because I wanted to!"

"You're not the only one." Virgil was worrying his bottom lip now, and somewhere over Patton's shoulder, Logan was probably watching him too. And Remus. All eyes on Patton. Everyone watching him fall apart. This was all he'd worked to avoid and now here he was, weak and selfish and completely at the end of the line.

"For what it's worth," Virgil said softly, "Janus has a lot going on and he probably didn't have much of a choice and I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt here. He's…he's my friend. He's allowed to make mistakes, and to do stuff he isn't supposed to, and to be selfish sometimes. And to feel. He's always allowed to feel."

Virgil wasn't talking about Janus anymore.

Which made sense, because Patton hadn't really been talking about Janus, either.

"It's okay," Virgil said, and he was so kind and what had Patton done to deserve him? "Cry. Scream. Let it out. Everything's kind of messed up, you got hurt, and it's not selfish to need help once in a while."

"I—I'm not supposed to—" Patton wiped at his eyes again. It was futile. Tears were clinging to his lashes, ready to fall, ready to burn their way down his cheeks and break him open. "I'm s'pposed to help, I can't—I don't wanna be—"

"Be what?" Virgil asked.

Patton shook his head.

"You know what you are?" Virgil smiled a bit. "You're Patton. My brother. You're not perfect, and no one is, and that doesn't make you any less worthy of love."

Patton pressed his hands to his mouth.

"So c'mon. Let me help." Virgil opened his arms. "I, um, if you want."

"He—" Patton took a deep breath and everything broke. "He promised. He promised he wouldn't hurt us."

And Patton fell into Virgil's arms, curling up against his chest and crying.

"He promised!" Patton choked out between sobs. "He—I thought I could—"

"I know. I know." Virgil's hand came up and rubbed between Patton's shoulderblades. A familiar move. Patton had done it to Virgil so many times. "Yeah, Pat, I know."

And Patton felt, somehow, that Virgil did. So he didn't try to talk again. He just kept crying, rough and hitching and ugly and painful, hands locked around Virgil's back like if he'd move Virgil would take it all back and he'd be left alone again—

A hand settled on his leg. It was tapping rhythmically. Not 4-7-8. Just a simple rhythm, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap-tap. Patton felt it shudder through his skin and he whined, burying his face in Virgil's shoulder, everything too warm and too painful but also so relaxing. He was tired. He was upset. And he didn't even have to try and hide it.

Another hand buried itself in his hair and floofed it around. Patton recognized that move, too. It was what he always did to Remus—stuck his hand in Remus' curls and scratched at his scalp until Remus practically purred. This hand was clumsy and a little uncoordinated but steady and oddly comforting.

Warmth all around him. The fire inside was dimming to a small candle flame. The tears dripping down his face and wetting his shirt weren't scalding anymore. They almost felt cold. Like rainfall.

And through it all was Virgil. "It's okay," Virgil was saying. "It's okay, breathe, you're doing great."

Patton's old mantra.

Patton was suddenly reminded of holding Virgil on a similar bed, a long time ago, when it was Virgil whose tears were coursing down his face, and now here he was. In the exact same position as Virgil had been. Feeling so weak and vulnerable and selfish and—and upset. Except—except Virgil had been upset too, and Virgil had gotten comfort too, and that was okay, and Patton was supposed to be the one who helped but Virgil was helping him now and that was okay too, and everything ached and was confusing and he just wanted to go home.

"I'm sorry," Patton whispered.

"Dunno why you're saying that."

"I—I don't know." He didn't. But he felt, strongly, that he should.

Then again, shoulds were what Virgil and Janus both said he would be better off avoiding.

And they were the smartest people Patton knew.

"I'm…" Patton tried out the words in his head, then out loud. "I'm not sorry?"

"No, you're not." The smile was clear in Virgil's voice. "And don't you ever forget it."

Patton smiled, just a little, into Virgil's shoulder. Virgil probably couldn't see it. But it wasn't for Virgil.

"You're good at this," Patton mumbled as Virgil reached up and ran his thumb over the nape of Patton's neck.

"Learned from the best." Virgil cupped Patton's chin and delicately pulled his face up. Patton blinked. His glasses were smudged with tears and he probably looked a mess, but Virgil just smiled like he'd seen the best thing in the universe. "There you are. It's late. Maybe you should get some sleep."

Patton frowned. "Don't wanna—"

"Let go?" Virgil huffed. "We'll sleep together, right? You like that."

"But Logan—"

"I'll join Remus on the top bunk," Logan said, and with a swing of legs he was gone. Remus lingered, giving Virgil a meaningful look and Patton a final pat on the head.

"Goodnight," Remus said. "I guess. Even though we're basically nocturnal now and also I was planning on trying to make a spear out of old sticks—"

"Remus," Logan called.

"Fine, I'm coming, spoilsport!"

Virgil laughed a little as Remus swung up to the top bunk. The bed creaked dangerously but didn't fall over, which was good. There were a few murmurs from Remus and Logan before they fell into silence. Virgil reached for the oil lamp and blew it out. The few bits of the cavern that Patton could see disappeared into the shadows. He shivered. He suddenly felt very alone.

"Come on." Virgil tugged Patton down and Patton curled up on the bed. There was only a thin blanket between them and the mattress, but it felt almost ridiculously comfortable after nights of sleeping on the ground. Patton hummed and twisted closer to Virgil, who wrapped his arms around Patton's back and pulled Patton toward his chest.

Patton was tired and aching and wrung out. But he felt like there was something else important he was forgetting.

"Virgil?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Virgil murmured.

"Um…you said—you called me—" Patton's voice dipped even quieter. "You're my brother?"

"Oh." Patton couldn't see Virgil, but he could feel him tense. "It was—it was nothing, if it makes you uncomfortable I'll stop—"

"No!" Patton said. "I just—why? I mean, not why, that sounds bad, I'm just curious—"

"Because you're my family." Virgil said it like it was simple. "And it's really no big deal if you don't want—"

"Virgil." Patton slipped his hand into Virgil's. "I meant why didn't you say it sooner? Was it upsetting you?"

"No," Virgil said. "Not really. I just, well, I know you say I'm part of the family, and I am, but sometimes it feels like I don't belong when you call me your—"

"Best friend." Patton's mouth fell open. "Oh, I didn't even realize—I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine! Really!" Virgil shifted. "I get why you'd be wary of calling me that, it's kind of weird—"

"It's not weird," Patton said vehemently. "I—I would have called you my brother before, if I knew—Virgil, you are my brother. You're my family. And I'm sorry I never said so, I just—" Patton took a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't want you to feel like I was replacing anyone."

"Oh," Virgil said softly.

"Yeah."

"Pat—" Virgil chuckled a little. "Pat, you could never replace anyone. I've got room enough for two families. Past doesn't define my present. And, um—" Virgil hesitated. "My family would have loved you. Just like I do."

Patton found himself grinning wildly into the darkness. "I love you too," he whispered. "I love you so much and I'm so, so proud to be your brother."

Virgil made a little noise that sounded like he was crying. Patton decided not to comment.

"Go to sleep, Pat," Virgil finally whispered, his voice achingly fond.

"You first," Patton mumbled, already drifting off.

"No you."

"Only if you do," Patton said. "Sleep tight, little brother."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite." Virgil reached over and took off Patton's glasses. "Big bro."

Patton closed his eyes and settled into sleep. And Virgil held Patton close, and when he was in a little cozy ball under the blankets, Patton found the dark wasn't that scary at all.

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

#leave no trace

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