#give me an inch and you give me an excuse to go a mile lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devildomimagines · 3 years

Note

Could you do the brothers (Lucifer especially) reacting to an MC who jokes all the time, seems carefree and stupid but eventually they find out that MC is actually a very deeply caring, responsible and intelligent person. They act like an idiot likely as a response to some adversity in their own past. Sorry if its complicated, i just like the idea of the brothers almost discounting MC only to realise they weren't looking deeply enough

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to, it's been busy in my personal life. The older brothers are under the cut so this post isn’t a mile long lol. I hope this is worth the wait!

Belphegor

King of rolling his eyes at your antics.

Belphie is maybe the most knowledgeable about humans so, of anyone, he might be able to see a little deeper than the surface.

On one of the rare occasions you got Belphie out of the house, you two came across a Little D that was clearly lost.

He didn’t pay it any mind since he figured the Little D would just teleport to their master but you insisted on helping.

As you knelt down to the creature Belphie stood back and watched as you quickly soothed the Little D’s worries and it hopped into your arms.

You brushed past Belphie to carry the spirit across the street and start talking to the shop owner. The two of you laughed and Little D hopped over to the shop owner’s hands.

“The shop keeper knows that Little D’s master and will give them a call,” you explained as you wrapped your arm around his and began leading him down the road.

“You’re amazing MC,” Belphie murmured, such a small act really changed his view of you.

Where he thought you were foolish in trusting him after what happened in the attic, he realized that he wasn’t a special case of forgiveness, you were just a truly caring person.

“Hm, what was that Belphie?” You asked but he wasn’t sure if you actually didn’t hear him or if you were teasing.

He wasn’t too proud to admit his feelings but his face did heat up a bit, “I said you’re amazing.”

Beelzebub

He’s pretty caring for a demon so he could see you were too, although maybe he didn’t know the depth until today.

The two of you were enjoying a meal in Hell’s Kitchen. Beel was absorbed in the food that he didn’t at first notice you were distracted.

When you asked for a moment and got up to grab the attention of a waiter. Beel watched on curiously, he was hoping you were asking for more food.

The waiter nodded along and ducked into the kitchen. You waited in that spot and you caught Beel’s stare. You waved at him with a smile.

He waved back with a fried shadow bat in hand.

You laughed and then the waiter was back. They handed you a to-go container, you talked for a second, probably thanking them and then made your way across the restaurant, walking right past your table.

Beel thought to call out to you as if you had somehow accidentally overshot the table but you made your way right out the door.

He started to get up to go after you, he shoveled a few things in his mouth not totally satisfied but more confused why you were leaving.

Then he saw you through the window. He stopped moving as you approached a small demon looking into the restaurant through the window. Beel sat and watched the scene unfold.

It jumped back away from you, probably not having seen a human before, and was clearly defensive as you talked. You then offered the to-go container, popping it open so the demon could see the food contained.

The little demon inched closer, clearly hungry and tempted by the food you offered. You nodded and the demon took the container and ran. You watched for a second and then came back into the restaurant to join Beel.

You sat down like nothing had happened and went back to your meal. When Beel didn’t start eating you asked, “What is it? Do I have something on my face!?”

He shook his head no, “You’re incredible.” He picked back up eating but he would not forget this moment.

Asmodeus

You watched on as Asmo was applying his make-up. He always enjoys your company when preparing for the day but he noted you were reading the ingredients pretty seriously.

“What’s got you frowning MC?”

“This is from the human realm, right?” you held up the bottle so he could see the label in the mirror.

He hummed, “That’s right, I get products from all over so that one is definitely from the human realm. Have you used it before?”

“Um, no I tended to stay away from their brand.” You put the bottle back where you found it.

“Why’s that? It is kind of expensive in Grimm, was it the same in your currency?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” you paused trying to think of the most sensitive way to put it, “there are make-up brands in the human realm that test their products on animals before marketing it to humans.”

“How cute!” Asmo giggled at the thought of bunnies in blush.

“No Asmo, it’s more like they are testing if their products are safe for humans by using animals as a proxy. It can be brutal and even unnecessary and could result in the animal’s death.”

Asmo had stopped and turned to look at you as you explained. His face was slightly troubled.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I just tried to use products that didn’t use that as a part of their process in manufacturing so as to not cause any unnecessary distress.”

He nodded understanding your thought process. The Devildom didn’t have such markers since suffering was the norm.

The fact that you were thinking about what products you used and their impact on others, even just some animals, had him reassessing you.

It was more thoughtful than he originally credited you. When you and him were joking around and gossiping, he figured your interests were more superficial.

It was refreshing that not only could you keep up with the most recent hot news around town but you truly cared and respected your impact on others.

“Asmo?” You asked, he had been quiet for a while lost in thought.

“It’s nothing!” He recovered but he kept peeking back at you with a mysterious smile.

Satan

The two of you were studying in the RAD library.

There was a particularly tough exam coming up, notorious for dropping the GPA of 75% off the class.

Satan was confident in his abilities but he agreed to come study for your sake. He didn’t have access to know your grade like Lucifer did but he assumed you were struggling by your pleas for his help and deprecating jokes about failing.

He watched as you diligently took out your books and notebook. You flipped through a few of your notes and then shifted your focus to your textbook. Satan shrugged as he opened his own books, you seemed to be off to a fine start.

After about an hour you asked, “Can we quiz each other?”

He agreed and flipped to the end of the chapter he was on for the review questions. Satan took a question and asked it in a slightly different way so you couldn’t rely on memorized answers.

To his surprise you answered correctly and made up a question for him that he thought was actually pretty difficult.

Of course he got it right but shrugged it off as a fluke that you didn’t mean to ask such a hard question. The next one he asked you was harder, not from the textbook in any way, it was something that the teacher had mentioned offhand in class.

You got it correct again. With your turn next, you asked another complex question.

Satan answered properly but was now on the edge of his seat, surely twice in a row was not a coincidence.

His next question, he matched your difficulty. You thought for a few minutes and dived into explanation with examples and even a source that you quoted off the top of your head. Your answer was insightful and succinct.

You were waiting for Satan’s assessment of your answer but he sat unmoving.

“Was I mistaken?” You asked, and started frantically looking through your notes.

While you reviewed your materials, Satan was seeing you in a new light. He figured you got along so well with Mammon because the two of you could joke and slack off with the best of them. He thought that you and Asmo got along more as a pair of airheads. But here you were, in this moment your intelligence came off as easy and effortless.

“No, you were right.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised but happy.

He smiled back, but wondered, “What is your current grade in this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last I checked, like 96?”

Satan laughed and shook his head, unbelievable that he thought otherwise.

Leviathan

He already thought of himself as a charity case. The fact that you would be willing to sacrifice your time to be with him was a miracle in his eyes.

No matter how many times you told him you wanted to hang out with him, it wasn’t a sacrifice, he still didn’t believe you.

When he gets more comfortable around you, he let’s you see his uglier sides when the envy consumes him.

You were a safe space he could vent to and you took that responsibility seriously. You listened and he felt the things he shared never left his room when you left.

It was after one of those vent/gaming sessions that you had to excuse yourself.

You had never gotten up in the middle like that and it scared Levi, had he gone too far? Did you actually hate him?

He watched silently as you left the room. Once the door closed, he was on his feet, what was so important? He decided to follow you.

Levi followed about a hallway behind you, as you turned a corner he would sprint to the corner to watch where you go next.

He followed all the way to the kitchen? He didn’t want to peek in fear of being caught but he listened as you greeted Beel.

Beel asked what’s up and you answered you were getting snacks for an intense gaming night with Levi. Beel must have perked up with the snacks you grabbed and you shooed him off, “If Levi’s up for it, you can join us but you can’t have that snack, I made it for a special occasion.”

Special… special? Levi couldn’t wrap his head around it when he thought of himself but the silence in the kitchen meant you must be leaving… meaning you were heading right for the door he was cupping!

He turned around and found a hiding spot on the other side of the hall behind a vase.

The door swung open as he held his breath. You started the way you came. You were heading for his room and he wasn’t there!

Cue montage of Levi comically running through the halls of HOL to get to his room before. He jumps into his gaming chair seconds before you open his door quietly.

He was panting and sweaty when he turned towards you with a smile, totally failing to act natural.

“Sorry I got up so abruptly but I just remembered I made you this!” You presented a cupcake exactly replicated from the anime the two of you watched last week.

Levi’s heart melted, he felt bad that he had second guessed you. He reached out for the cupcake with one hand and with the other he took your hand to pull you to the bean bags. He was blushing but still said, “Let’s put on that anime while I eat it.”

The level of detail that you had gotten correct showed how dedicated you had been to paying attention to his interests and how much you cared for him in turn. He was also impressed with your baking knowledge, it takes a decent level of skill to be able to replicate something just from seeing it.

The scene was coming up where the protag was going to give the cupcake and Levi was struck with the most embarrassing thought. But if anyone would indulge him, it was you.

As the protag took the cupcake, Levi copied their posture. Then he copied their words in unison they both said, “Thank you, no one has ever made me anything like this before.” The two of them ripped the cupcake in half in the same spot and he extended the half to you as he protag did, “Will you share it with me?”

“Of course!” You and the character answered together then giggled as Levi blushed and hid behind the half cupcake as the two of you returned to sitting on the beanbags.

There was no way he was ever going to forget this moment, his eyes opened to how much you did care for him. Even if he was doubtful of others by nature, he would never doubt you again.

Mammon

People always write Mammon off as dumb and because you have a pact with him, you’re often included in that assumption. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. You’re here for a good time and Mammon can definitely provide that.

His schemes to make money keep things interesting so you usually go along unless you have other commitments. Today’s work was clean-up in the local park. Not because it was lucrative, but because this was a punishment from a prank that backfired.

You had pleaded with Diavolo for a lighter sentence on Mammon’s behalf as his pact partner and Diavolo indulged you.

Mammon was brooding on your way to the park but you were looking forward to being outside in nature for the day so you chattered aloud to fill the silence.

Barbatos was waiting for you two with the materials you would need. He gave you a look of pity when you turned but Mammon caught it and knew Barbatos was probably feeling sorry you had to be punished when you didn’t do anything. Mammon ripped the rake out of Barbatos’ hand and sulked off after you.

You each set to different tasks, Mammon raking leaves and you weeding the flowerbeds.

Demons and spirits passed with a few snickers, definitely not the first time Mammon had been sent to do community service but he hated that you were now a laughing stock with him. You didn’t seem phased by it though, even flashing him a bright smile when you two made eye contact.

Halfway through the day, the two of you were taking a break for a snack and fluids, you shared a bench and admired the work so far. “We might even finish early!” You shared your optimism.

Mammon nodded but still kept quiet. It was so unlike him and you were hitting your limits of how to try to get him out of his own head, you figured he would be back to normal tomorrow but missed hearing his voice.

You two split the last of the duties, you were now cleaning equipment and decorations while he was trimming bushes and trees.

While Mammon was trimming a nearby bush, he heard your voice, then heard his name. He peeked through the bush to watch you talking with a crow.

“I thought it would make the day more fun if I was here with him because he always makes me have fun but it’s like I’ve made his mood worse…” You looked down at the bird bath you had been polishing and knelt down. The crow watched your movements from it’s perch on the top. “Maybe he hates that I intervened with Diavolo, I probably overstepped. I don’t know what I can do to get Mammon out of this funk. What do you think?”

The crow outstretched it’s wings and took off. You pouted, but continued polishing. Mammon was about to push through the bushes to comfort you, his mood wasn’t your fault and he felt even worse that you thought that but then the crow returned.

It swooped onto your shoulder and dropped something into your hand. You jumped with surprise and it scared the crow off your shoulder, it resettled on the bird bath. “This is perfect! Thank you!” The crow let you give it a few scritches and took off once more. You looked around for Mammon.

He nonchalantly rounded the bush so you would notice him, “Mammon! Look!” You rushed over and handed him the object.

It was a golden grimm coin. You explained, “A crow gave it to me, that has to be good luck! Take it and your luck will change, you won’t be punished forever!”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. What did he do to deserve you? Why did you care about him so deeply that you’d give him your treasure and good luck?

You laughed into his hug and he pulled back, “Alright, let’s finish this up and go home, I’ll treat ya to some ice cream on the way back.” He ruffled your hair but your shining eyes and too big smile made him blush and turn away.

Lucifer

He questioned if putting you under Mammon’s care at first was a mistake.

It’s not that you didn’t get along, in fact you two got along too well. Was Mammon’s stupid tendencies to slack off rubbing off on you?

You had been coming back late without being accompanied by one of his brothers and he was determined to find out what you were up to.

For the morning, he watched as you and Mammon walked to school. Lucifer stayed far enough away so he couldn’t be sensed so he couldn’t hear what you two were saying but it was clear you were having a good time. Mammon was snickering as you animatedly gestured and walked backwards. Lucifer’s heart warmed that his brother was genuinely happy then realized he was getting distracted.

You sat through your first class diligently taking notes and participating. The same for most of the classes that day. Lucifer started to acknowledge your responsibility to learning but it made him all the more curious as to why you skipped your last class.

He watched you look around for any onlookers and dipped into the library. He was both surprised and amused that you were meeting with Simeon. The angel was leading you astray?

Simeon didn’t look happy about it either, probably scolding you for missing class, but he was a pushover and your pathetic look won him over. The two of you sat as Simeon talked. You were taking notes on whatever Simeon was lecturing on.

You left the interaction and Lucifer took the chance to talk with Simeon himself. He learned that you were asking about stories from the Celestial Realm. Simeon offered that it was just human nature to be curious what lays beyond life. Lucifer, the ever-skeptic, didn’t believe that was it.

He had lost your trail by talking to Simeon so he went home to wait for your return.

Lucifer intercepted you as you tried to sneak in. “MC, this way please,” he led you to his office, “How was today?”

“Good?” you answered but was unsure why he looked so serious.

“How was class?”

You got nervous but answered, “Fine, same old same old.”

“Ah,” Lucifer smirked, “And how was Simeon?”

Your attempt to play dumb failed spectacularly when you stammered, “W-who’s Simeon?”

“Lying to me won’t do you well,” Lucifer reminded.

“Sorry, it’s just it wasn’t an approved activity so I didn’t want anyone in your family to be implicated…” you scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“And what activity is that?”

“Oh I thought you knew since you caught me,” you laughed, “Solomon and I were going to play with young demons at an orphanage in town. We were telling them stories from the Human Realm but I thought it would be nice to incorporate stories from the Celestial Realm too.”

Lucifer sighed.

You took that as a sign he was disappointed so you continued, “Let me explain, I know I should have asked permission first and for that I’m sorry. Solomon and I just stumbled on the place one day and the kids bombarded us with questions, never having seen humans before and before I knew it we were going almost everyday. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be bad because exposing the next generation of demons to humans would help Diavolo’s mission to strengthen relations between the realms. And I asked Simeon for stories so we could share Celestial Realm things too without getting Simeon in trouble or putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

Well that was definitely an eye opener for Lucifer. What you said made sense that changing minds starts with the youth. His original assumptions that you were just shirking responsibilities was way off base. He didn’t want to but admitted to himself he was wrong. Not only had you been doing something charitable but you were furthering Lord Diavolo’s message in a different way.

“You’re correct, you should have asked permission,” he started and you sank in your seat, “but I don’t see any harm in what you’re doing except for missing classes.” You sank further in your seat. “For skipping class, you’ll need to do extra studies,” he paused to make sure you knew this was a punishment, “I think a fitting topic would be interracial communication with a focus on the youth of Devildom.”

You perked up with a smile, “So I can keep going to the orphanage?”

Lucifer fought back a smile himself, trying to continue to be stern, “Yes, but that’s only if you don’t skip class and you have one of my brothers accompany you. As competent as Solomon is, he is also human and I would feel better if you had a demon escort.”

You were absolutely beaming now. “I’d like that but I don’t think you brothers would be interested.”

“They’ll do what they’re told but I think the twins would enjoy it the most,” Lucifer offered.

“Thanks! I would like if you could join us sometime too,” you suggested shyly.

He did smile at that, “If my schedule allows,” He didn’t finish before you were hugging him. He stiffened, not used to being hugged after doling out a punishment but softened and returned your hug, “I’ll make time to join you.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #my writing #anon squad

644 notes · View notes

xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years

Note

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. 🏃

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

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

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

116 notes · View notes

thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

United as One. || Part 3

Summary: Din tries to fix what he can while another Mandalorian clan leader comes to visit and the leader tends to find an interest in the reader.

Warning/Content: Soft!Din (as if I have to say it), angst, nsfw for hand job, a little bit of dirty talk but not much and mentions of death.

A/N: I also do not write smut often so bare with me I tried lol, but sorry It took so long !

Tag list here || Part 2. || Masterlist.

The room was engulfed in complete darkness, peaceful sleep finally washing over after hours of crying eventually her eyes hurt too much to keep open. Thankfully with sleep came an escape from reality, all problems momentarily gone. That’s until a soft whisper tickles her neck, it’s soothing, fingers tangle into hair, nails scratching her scalp but also makes her jump, eyes opening wide for the source of danger.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” Din is breathless, trying to sooth her with words. Nothing is said, there’s complete darkness except the little light the moon offers. It outlines the soft curve of his nose, shadow of his lips, just enough to see but not enough to commit to memory what the Mandalorian looks like. “Our son.” He pauses, “Grogu wants you.”

It’s not a complete lie but the only excuse he can think of to see her, it was very late. The celebration had finally ended, the night dragged but he still found himself right where he wanted to be. For some reason he can’t find the right words to say. “Cyar'ika, I -.”

“Save it Din, give me him.” His mouth shuts at her words, the darkness blocked any clues, any way her face would form to show her emotions but he felt it in her words. There were no more tears, it’s replaced with hot, firey anger.

Grogu without a second though climbs from Din’s hand and lays against her chest, a soft coo of acknowledgement. Right where he wanted to be.

“For you.” Din’s word peak an interest, eyes meeting his in pure instinct despite the darkness. Something cold, sharp is pressed into her hand. It takes a few minutes of feeling it to realize what it was, the signet that was wrapped around the blonde’s neck made her scowl but he couldn’t see it. “I want you to wear it, I made her give it back. I don’t want -.”

For the second time tonight he’s cut off by words that hiss venom. “You give me something you made for her?”

With those words he realizes what a stupid idea it was, he’s speechless at his own Idiocracy. To be fair though, he wasn’t thinking about anything but her, only trying to make her happy. To escape this feeling of his heart breaking inside his chest, it seems almost unavoidable.

“I’m sorry.” Words are breathless, his apology makes her sigh. No words could fix this, mend the hole in her heart, the betrayal she feels. “I can’t control these things, they were made thousands of years ago. I must honor the way of the Mandalorian, that entitles a riduur and a breeder. I want to.. for you but I can’t, this is the best I can do.” Fingers apply pressure to the beskar in her hand, the coolness making her shiver.

Din is still on his knees on the floor, elbows leaning on the bed, her face, at least he thinks it’s her face only inches apart.

“Why did you bring me here?” It’s asked again. All the days seemed to form together, a promise of a future with Din made it manageable but suddenly it’s suffocating. “You didn’t once bother tell me how it was going to be. You knew they wouldn’t accept me because I’m not a Mandalorian, I would be challenged, I will never be accepted as part of your clan.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.” He selfishly admits, his own voice chokes with emotion. Tears sting against his own waterline. Maybe it was the long night, but it felt like forever since he’s seen her, talked to her. It makes him emotional, the turmoil he’s caused so far; it was his fault. He was to blame.

“So you sentence me to this?” Din’s eyes squeeze shut, they are so close.. but miles away. “I want to leave.”

“Please.” He begs, “Just try. It’s hard to understand why but it’s the way of the mandalorian, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sick of hearing that!” Her voice rises, she almost sits up to show how much she means if but she feels the child twitch against her chest. “Maker, I would be happy not to see another Mandalorian again.”

“You don’t mean that.” Din’s lays his forehead against the edge of the bed, only inches away from her body. “I don’t like hearing you like this.”

She can’t see it but he’s pressing his two fingers against his chest superficial to where his heart beats. “It hurts me.”

Silence is all he’s given, his cheek lays flat against the mattress as his hand reaches for the signet. “You’re right, it isn’t made for you. Nothing in the whole universe can be made into what I feel for you.”

Din does not give her the opportunity to talk, “My eyes are dark brown. This you know but..”

The hand nudging hers open again to feel the weight of circular plastic, enough to fill her hand. “I want to show them to you.”

They’re the beads of the woman but now any claim he’s ever had is gone; no sign of him on her person. Fingers tip under her chin, “Turn the light on and look.”

“The creed.” The worried words make him sigh, slowly leaning against her neck, forehead against her cheek.

“I have an obligation to my clan, I must lead them but for you, to show my love for you I’ll have you something no one else has. Look at my face Sweetheart, I want you too..” he pauses, “See the color with your own eyes, seeing my eyes only belongs to you. Don’t leave, stay with me.”

It’s desperate and considering the situation absolutely necessary. Truthfully Din is getting frustrated, it shows in the tears that sting his waterline, in the way he squeezes the sheets of the bed with clenched fists. Shoulders are weighed down, all the responsibility of his clan, trying to make the girl understand.. It’s too much, there is no way to give honor to the clan, no one to honor her. He’s torn, an internal fight against what he knows his right but his heart hurts, but cannot let her go.

“See me the way no one else does.” It’s a plea, throat full with emotion, his own way asking her to say. “Please.. it’s all I can give.”

It’s more silence but the way they press into his cheeks makes him whine, a small cry of relief. There was no more coldness lingering in the air as she sits up, his head resting against her inner thigh, fingers start scratching his scalp.

Maybe it’s the desperate tone, the hot tears hitting her cheek but she leans over pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Din.. it’s okay.”

“It’s not, you hate it here.” He pauses, “You’re miserable, it’s not fair and I don’t want you to go.. I feel selfish Mesh’la.”

Hot tears flush his skin, the stress was too much, building up slowly with his own clans disappointment in him, the girl he’s loves finally with him where he belongs but his own people keen on breaking them apart.

“Stay here with me.. it will get better I promise. Asher means nothing to me.. she is a means to an future but she is not mine, you are.”

She silent, deep in thought as fingers pause their movement causing Din to nudge closer into her palm. Tips of dark ringlets tickle her fingers. The mention of another’s name from his lips squeezes her heart. “Cyar'ika.. please stay.”

She was upset, there was no question about it but these few hours alone allowing so much time to just think. It wasn’t Din fault, he must do right by his clan and that means insuring a future by claiming a breeder, despite not liking it, she couldn’t find herself to blame him. He tried to make it better taking his claim back, the signet thrown lazily next to them proves it, the small pile of dark beads that not scatter the floor, an act of service to show his love. It probably wasn’t a good idea, the elders will definitely have words to say but Din didn’t care, anything to fix the gaping hole that occupied where his heart should be.

“Okay..” it’s soft.. unsure but he swears that he’ll do anything to keep her here. The darkness of the room doesn’t show it but Din’s chest finally let’s out a breath of air. “I can’t promise anything.. but I will try Din.”

“Can I come up there with you?”

“You don’t have to ask Din. It’s your bed.”

Din stands on shaky legs but curls up next to his girl, for the first time tonight not aching with sadness, anxiety. There’s a shift in the air, it’s no longer tense but filled with comfortable silence. “I want you to have a safe space here, this could be yours. I don’t have to be here.”

Before she can argue his arms pull her into his chest, no doubt the clay smears against skin. Any reasonable person would think the basker it cold, and uncomfortable but it’s quite the opposite; soft, warmth against her cheek despite the small hairs that tickle her forehead but instinctively presses a soothing kiss to his chin.

Fingers soak against her skin, up and down the think of her forearm as deep and shallow breaths calm him down. Despite the fact she chose to forgive him, his heart is still stammering inside his chest.

“Look at me, see me the way no one else does.” It’s so easy to give up the creed, it’s all for her. He has no doubt that she will accept his offer of marriage, it may take time but he won’t give up.

“I don’t want to.” She pauses, “I don’t want to be the reason you disappoint your clan anymore then necessary.”

Din doesn’t know what to say. He’s happy at the answer but kind of hoped she did open her eyes, relieve him of this weight of the creed. “If you marry me.. you’ll be able to see whenever you want. It won’t break my creed.”

“I don’t think that’s for the best.” It’s finally said with his future’s best interest. The leader of the clan needed a strong queen, and will not accept anyone but Mandalorian like them. The way the elders talked about the marriage with her to Din was enough to know she will never be welcomed here, She would not be the reason for his shame.

“I was hoping you didn’t hear that.” She bites the inside of her cheek with heat that sears her face, not knowing what to say.

“Stay a little longer. If you decide you don’t want to marry me then I’ll bring you home myself. Be open minded with me. No matter how much I love you, I love you enough to let you go sweet girl. I want you to know that.” The words sting hard against both of their hearts, a large scar that would stay forever.

“I’ll stay with you.” While she doubts her mind will change, it hurts too much to think of a life without the Mandalorian, without Grogu. “I love you too Bear.”

The lips that meet hers are bruising, almost too rough as they show their appreciation but just enough that all air is knocked from her chest, heat sources from her stomach, setting cheeks ablaze. “Maker – you are so sweet, my sweet girl.”

“You – just always make me feel so…” He can’t put the feeling into words, how could he explain the thumping his chest every time she smiles? The instant warmth when her skin touches his own? There are no words that can explain the way his heat falters inside his chest, heat burns cheeks that it’s embarrassing, thankfully she can’t see. “Right…” Are the words he decided to go with, simple but they hold meaning. “It feels so right with you.”

***

Morning rolled around way too quick, the bright white light temporarily blinding the pair as the shift away from the window, it’s perfect sync the way his chest presses against her back and flushes against his skin, arms wrapping around her waist feel the warmth. Lips lay soft kisses against the skin of her shoulder with a soft sigh. “Goodmoring pretty girl.”

There’s a certain softness that lingers in the air, the vulnerability of last night weighs heavy but despite the tears when the morning light hits there’s hope, hope of holding onto what hangs by a thin thread.

Even though her eyes are open, she doesn’t dare turn due to the fear of too much light entering the room. Small, green fingers press against her cheeks with a soft coo, head tilting just enough so his head level with his mother. “Good morning bear..” Fingers stretching out to pull the child closer only to press a soft kiss to the talons of his fingers as she addresses him. “Hi little one, how long have you been up?”

Din doesn’t have to look at the child to know what he wants as he sighs, lips pressing into her neck to savior one more minute of her skin, her smell.

“Get ready, we will go get breakfast and go for a walk. I have something to show you."

***

After breakfast, making sure his girl and son are fed, he asks one of the others of the clan to watch the child, which is gladly accepted. It hurts, she’s glad for the little guy, how easily the clan wants him but can’t help but feel a little jealous, especially the looks they get as her and Din walk hand and hand into the forest.

During the little walk Din tells her stories of wondering in this exact forest, always getting in trouble for wondering too far, climbing trees that are too high, he’s always had that spark, the need to adventure, it’s no surprise why he left his home for so long.

The temple isn’t that big, small compared to the one she managed to squeeze into and interrupt the meeting between Din and the Elders yesterday but it’s older. The thickness and greenery of the forest had started to take it over, long vines and trees form into it, small peaks of gold and tan clay peek through, if it wasn’t for the sun hitting the peak of beskar at the point of the roof it would be impossible to even know it’s there.

Curious eyes peer back as she faces the helmet, through her own reflection she can see the way the sun beats down on her, eyes crystals as Din laces his fingers with her own guiding her towards the entrance with a, “Come, my love.”

The hall is dark, there’s no source of light until orange finger tips press into the side of his helmet where a small flash of light is orbited into the hall. There’s a few doors, old and withering but Din pulls her through one giant open arch and once entering the room she’s greeted with colorful bindings of books, covers made from bright oranges to dull browns, bookcases built into the clay walls surround her.

There’s a large book in particular, all alone on a podium that stands alone in the center of the room, it’s made from old leather, pages torn and weathered but the same symbol on the front cover is the necklace that is wrapped around Grogu’s neck from a piece of strand, the one Din has given him so long ago.

"This is my legacy.” Din’s fingers press against the small of her back, guiding slowly towards the old book. Orange fingertips run the binding, helmet looking back at her for confirmation. She nods unsurely as he flips it open, there’s scribbles, symbols in which she doesn’t understand but there’s pages and pages until he stops. There’s two words at the tops of the page, fingers trace the hydrographics as she catches the sigh under the vocoder. “I was not born a Mandalorian but the people who took me in, my father watched out for the clan before me. This is his name.”

There’s a line, different from all the others bold in the color red, the first of it’s kind as he traces it to the other word. “This is my name. Much like you, I was an outsider. I wasn’t part of the clan until I swore the creed.”

“You want me to swear the creed?”

“No mesh'la.” It’s amazing how clam and collective his is, never faltering from what he’s trying to explain just trying to get her to understand, feel what he’s trying to say. “The red line broke the first rule in the history of this clan, no outsider even a foundling is able to be Mand'lor but here I am.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are so worried about my name but being my wife will not shame me.” Din continues before any other words could be said, “You believe that you will make the clan dislike me but I have been shamed by whole life. My father made sure of that when he named me to suppress him as next Mand'lor. He broke the rule of only a child being born into a clan to be leader. He chose me.”

“Din you are a real -.”

“Shhhh. Let me finish.” A soft hand soothes the top of her head, words dying in her throat as he plays with the tips of her hair, smooth and untamed from just being thrown back into a messy updo. “My father is much like me. Him and my mom could not have children, they tried and tried. For pure respect for my mother he wouldn’t accept his breeder so he named me his son, it was against all rules, made me next in line.”

The red line almost represents how different he is, the target he still has on his back even though it was so many cycles ago. “You will not shame me, they already don’t accept me. They do not want me as their leader but not even the elders can take my title away only by a challenge but I don’t see that happening.”

He pauses, pressing closer until the helmet kisses the smooth skin of her cheek. “What I am trying to say is you don’t need to worry about my name, it’s already wrong to them, I will never be what they want.” His touch is soft, gentle as flat palms rub softly against shoulders, rubbing gently against her biceps, squeezing gently. “If it ever comes to it Grogu will be named by heir, I will not accept any breeder.”

The feeling in his own chest was heavy, crushing memories of teasing and unwanted stares as a child, he can still see some now as he walks through the small village, he was never meant to be here, he’s an outsider no matter how much he wants to believe less. “We are the same, except I am not more accepted because I am Mandalorian, while you are -”

“Not.” She finishes biting her lip with such intensity that the skin breaks, a small spot of blood appear but gloves press against her cheek, angling her face to meet his gaze, or which she guesses is his gaze.

“You will be if you marry me, they will have to accept you. It’s the creed.” Guilty eyes drops from his own, watching the way his chest moves under all the beskar, slow, nervous breaths but he understands. “You don’t need to answer me, I told you to think about it but just know, nothing in this world can come between us. No elders and especially no breeder, there’s no one else I want. For you I would do anything and if they means breaking all the rules and having my clan disapprove of me more I do not care.” Smooth fingers rub across cheek bones, a tickle of a smile against his features.

“You can’t see but I’m smiling. Just being here with you is enough for me.”

There’s a ghost of a one that makes her cheeks blush at his close proximity. “I bet it’s beautiful bear.”

There’s something sweet about the words, almost tooth rotting as his chest fills will molten lava, fingers sieving to take in the hit of them. Never had he heard such sweetness, such softness when it came to himself, it’s intoxicating, making him dizzy with want, eyes drop down to her lips, covering her eyes and reaching behind him to throw the helmet to the ground, not caring where it falls to press smooth lips against her own.

The air barely touched his face before he is tugging her forward, hand that once covered her eyes tangle her hair as their lips meet with a rush, feverish and filled with intensity. The force of his lips on hers, tongue meeting hers with such intensity it’s bruising but the only way he can pour his heart out. Hearts beating fast inside both of their chests, her own hands find the ringlets of his hair, tugging to deepen the kiss as fist tighten on his own end. Din tilts his head slightly, the bridge of his nose pressing against her nose bumping his own lips into her top one, tongue sliding against them with a deep moan but he stops - doesn’t pull away just enjoys the feeling of hers against his own.

At first she’s confused, breathless moving away but keeping her eyes closed but the heavy throbbing against her hip gives it away. Maker, he’s embarrassed, cheeks hot as he presses his own forehead against hers with a sigh. “I’m sorry -.”

“What are you sorry for?” She offers him a comforting smile, pressing a kiss against his cheek, it’s sweet. “There’s no reason.”

“So sweet.” The way she smiles against his skin, feeling his own dimples against her cheek as arms wrap tightly around the Mandalorian only to feel him squeeze back. “My sweet girl.”

***

By the time they get back darkness is starting to fall over the horizon, the large fire and a few torches light the way to home. Din has left a little over an hour ago, which is usually normal except for the fact that he said he’ll be right back with Grogu but still isn’t here.

She debates leaving, mostly because the glances and snarls that would follow her especially not be escorted by Din, but she’s worried. What if something happened to Din? Or worse Grogu?

Once again she was wondering down the lit up path, no one seemed to be around, a few children pause from their playing and smile at her but other then that she enters the dinning hall, it’s filled. The first thing she manages to do is smell the beautiful aroma of food that makes her stomach growl, not realizing how hungry she is but that comes to an end when the whole room drops silent.

All eyes are on her, forks dropping with a clank as hateful eyes glare intensely. In the corner of her eyes she sees the Mandalorian stand, no one can see his face but the way the ‘T’ of his visor stares is dangerous, testing, the growl the rumbles his chest is a warning, anyone who had a scene would deal with him. That was enough promise to have the room eating again, no longer silent as chatter fills the mess hall again.

A hand is placed against the small of her back, cheek of his helmet kisses her own with a whisper. “What are you doing here, love?”

The words sting, eyes shift over his own with a grimace as she pulls away from his touch. “Why? Is this only for the clan?”

A way to separate her more, keep the clan happy by isolating her from any form any outing. It makes sense, the Mandalorian wouldn’t have his people constantly at his throat, suddenly his words from before no longer mattered, they made her stomach twist, eyes water as the Din shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. hey, hey..” Fingers pull her close into his chest, fingers grip her chin, force her to peer into his eyes. “We have a visitor from another clan is all. He can be a real asshole, I just didn’t want you around him.

“Why because I’ll shame you even more?”

“Stop.” It’s firm, sends shivers down her skin at how he stiffens, looking around the room not wanting to make too much of a scene. “Come sit and eat.. I was just about to bring you dinner.”

It’s hard not to be obedient, he’s intimating, towers over her and she just knows the scowl under his helmet. Before anymore attention can be drawn to the pair he’s walking towards the table, leaving her standing there with no chose to take the seat next to him.

“Who is this?” She barely had a chance to register the two additions to the table, the one is a woman with long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that sits almost on top of the man, she wears nothing but a thin, sheer dress that when she moves her arms the outline of her nipples can be seen but no one seems too interested, almost as if it was normal. There’s a blue Mandalorian next to her, large beads lay against his chest, they also match Din’s necklaces but are made from beskar and gold. His armor is quiet similar, but it’s a dark, royal blue with lines of gold in the creases of it, his helmet his decorated with dark, black lines of clay, there’s no symbols just senseless finger paint.

Din looks up to meet his gaze, there’s a warning in his silence but the other Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care, only tilts his head with a look she can only guess is mischief. “You know Din, It’s very uncommon to take a mistress before having a wife.”

“I’m not a mistress.” The words are hissed through her teeth, jaw flexing as she clenches them. The blue Mandalorian laughs, it’s crackles darkly and makes her stomach turn.

“Firey, I love it. I wonder if what you have under that tunic is as beautiful as you are, Mesh’la.” The same words that sound so good on the tongue of Din sound so sickly and dark on the strangers. Fist ball against her lap, the feeling of Din’s hands against her back are there to calm her, stopping her from speaking anymore so naturally, he does instead.

“Leave her alone.” Din wishes to say more but just dismisses the man, at the very moment he could not risk a war between the clans, especially after being gone for so long. What good leader would bring war and destruction on only their first few weeks back? Besides it was only a few weeks before the Winter Solaces and despite how much he wanted to wrap his hands around Viven’s neck, he couldn’t risk returning from the summer lands with his own homeland in ruins.

Din was going to let it go, leave his girl to eat but the words Viven says next makes his blood boil, “You can have mine, If i can have yours.”

His mouth falls open under the helmet, anger burns his veins and continues to warming is body as it spreads like water until he’s abruptly standing but Viven is not easily scared, he matches his stance, leaning over to push Din’s fingers away as they come down as a warning against his chest as he speaks. “You are in my land, insulting my woman -.”

Din’s hand twitches next to the blaster strapped to his hip as Viven leans closer. “You don’t scare me Din, you’re not even a real Mandalorian.”

The way Din shakes is scary, trembling as his breaths holds inside his chest before long, quick breaths move the beskar as he moves to with no doubt pounce at the man but the small hands takes his own distract him as warm fingers twine through the gaps of his own quickly pulling him towards the exit without a word.

She manages to pull them into a room down the hall, hands pressing against his chest in hopes that the change of scenery will help but his hands snatch her wrist, a rough almost inaudible growl catches the static of the vocoder. “The way he talked about you like you were some piece of meat, I’m going to kill him.”

“Shhh.” She sooths, fingers pressing against that junction of where the helmet and his shirt almost meet, leaving that small piece of skin that just radiates heat, curling the hairs with her pointer finger. His chest is stuttering under her touch but he’s too angry to notice, it’s sits in his stomach every breath that expands his chest burns with fury.

“No, I’m going to go out there and teach him how to respect a woman.” He’s trembling, intensely staring at her as she reaches over to curl her fingers under the chest plate but he’s ready to break away, fist forming to charge out that door and snap his neck but as her hands drop lower his breath stops. His chest doesn’t dare move as her own hands shake but for a whole another reason. She’s nervous, scared of whatever the Mandalorian might do and this time it would be her fault, she would be the reason and the clan would blame him, hate him more than they already do. Fingers slip low and lower until they squeeze the outline of his erection.

He didn’t even notice over the anger and frustration that had filled his entire being but none the less she earns a lustful moan. His fingers catch her wrist, rougher then he tends too but he can think, with anger rushing his body and her hand wrapping around his throbbing hardness. It’s too much, other hand finds her hip digging small crescent shaped marks into the skin through her shirt. “W-What are you doi -.”

“Shhh, let me take care of you. Can I?” It was risky, nothing she would ever do but the only way she could possibly think to distract him. He’s tense, not moving a muscle as the small hands leave his erection instead fall under his shirt as fingers run along the line of his trousers, feeling the coolness of the jean’s button before pressing down and pulling it from the buttonhole. Her hand slips down, past the elastic of his underwear to hold his heavy cock in her hand, he hisses instantly at the contact, eyes never leaving hers as a thumb moves up to spread the beading pre-cum to lubricate her hand as gives him a test stoke in which he lets out a loud groan.

“Please.” It’s a whimper, barely audible but just enough to show how bad he needs this. Almost instantly her hands tighten, moving at a pace that makes his head spin.

His heart is pounding inside his chest, it’s heard in his ears unable to make out any other words. Heat fills the helmet, a thick fog made from his own pants makes it hard to breath, it’s exciting, exhilarating as he can still hear the chatting and clanking of forks that’s just separated by a wall.

“Maker, pretty girl.” It’s whimpered against her hair slow, and breathlessly through the static of his helmet as it falls to rest his forehead against the top of her hair as her hand sets an unforgiving pace.

Small pants bounce of the walls, his hips move to meet up to her own trembling hands. He let’s out a whine of disappointment as she pulls away but his eyes widening as she brings her hand close to her mouth, spitting on her palm. “Fuck…”

He’s so lost in the moment, the way her wet palm wraps around his pulsing cock as sweat begins to bead across his forehead, heat growing deep inside his stomach as he trembles under the feeling of her hand tighten around the base of his cock. Eyes squeezing in pleasure as the familiar pit inside his stomach begins to build as she strokes in time to meet up with his thrusts.

He’s falling deeper and deeper into her spell, thoughts filled with her.

It’s all her, how good her hand feels milking him for all he can offer, how beautiful she looks like this, eyes never leaving his own as the words fall from swollen lips. “Are you going to cum for me Din?”

It’s pure heaven, the way her thumb rubs his head ever so often. Just the right amount of pressure that it stings so good, burns his thighs as her fingertips dig into them.

“Yes, Maker, yes sweetheart.” He chokes, body stiffening as he feels his balls tighten, body stutter as she pushing his pants lower past his knees as she kneels. The sounds that bounce off the wall are sinful, dirty and wet as a familiar ball of heat fills his stomach as she drops onto her knees.

She offers her face, mouth opening slightly in concentration as her hand squeezes his head one more time but he can’t help but think it’s for him as his thighs quiver and with one last trust into her hand as white, thick strands of cum paint her face pretty.

The Mandalorian in panting above her, fingers that found her hair are now rubbing softly, curling around the hair in a comforting but lazily way. He feels slightly dizzy, a post orgasm haze blurs his eyes, makes his knees ache but none the less he tucks himself back into his pants before sitting in front of her. He pulls at his cape, pressing gently against her skin to wipe at his mess, a soft laughing falling from his lips.

“To think I thought you brought me in here to calm me down.” There’s that sweet smile that makes his heart jump but the way her eyebrows furrow with playful eyes is new.

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Sneaky girl.” The words are whispered affectionally into her neck as he finishes and throws the cape somewhere across the room. There’s a small tisk that falls from his lips makes her laugh. Fingers roam the bottom of the helm, seeking a kiss from those soft lips but the loud commotion outside makes him stiffen, raising to his feet as the yelling continue. His hand takes her own, this time he is the one dragging her through the threshold of the dinning hall. Viven stands over the crowd as if he wants to speak but that’s not what pisses Din off, it’s how dangerously close to his throne, almost acting like it doesn’t exist.

“This man can’t lead you!” Viven’s words are loud, powerful from his chest as he catches their attention. The dinning hall is quiet now, a celebration now ruined with sourness. “He will betray the way of the Mandalore, he will shame us all, he has no wife, offers no future for you. He holds a foundling that will never survive, it is too weak. He has failed to bring it back to it’s people.”

Din stiffens at the words, hateful as they spray across the room. His son will survive, he is stronger than anyone here, no one chooses to see it. The mention of Grogu as his first balling on his lap as murmurs break the threshold of silence, heavy boots echo across the hall until they take one step onto the platform, standing to tower the man as the orange tips of his gloves poke at the blue Mandalorian’s armor. “Leave my son’s name out of your mouth, mind your words.”

"Or what? You already shame your clan by not having a wife… Do you plan on stringing this poor girl on forever?” The words make her cheeks flush in anger but realization hits Din almost instantly - the man had made it clear he wanted her but only because he thought it was all for fun, nothing but a sense or pleasure. Viven thought Din had no intention of marrying the girl because it was unheard of, a clan leader must marry another of similar rank, not a nobody who was not a mandalorian none the less. Then again Din wasn’t supposed to have the power he holds, the rules aren’t meant to be broken but also are not set in stone. Even though it wasn’t seen, Din’s stare was intense and boring a hole into the front of Viven’s visor, heart thumping against his chest with frustration, anger that Viven ever thought he would just give her away, trade her like she was some kind of property.

“That’s not true.” The words leave her mouth before she realizes what she is saying, she’s so frustrated with the whole situation and watching how Din’s shoulders fell with Viven’s last words was the last straw. “We are getting married.”

The way everyone’s glares towards her at the words made her nervous but nothing compared to the way her heart jumped inside her chest as Din’s helmet snaps in her direction. Din felt his cheeks warm, suddenly the man challenging his authority didn’t matter. He’s thankful for the helmet at this very moment as it hides the pink patches of blush on his chest and cheeks. He tries to open his mouth and speak but the twitch of his lips stops him, she looks beautiful right now.

Frustration clear on her red face, eyebrows furrow with agitation but she bites her bottom lip at his gaze feeling heat over her own skin as she chews it nervously. For a moment they are the only two people the exist, a little lost, unsure but no matter how much they try and fight it they would never be the same without each other. “I’ve accepted his marriage proposal.”

With those five words the room breaks out in chaos but Din can’t seem to care, his eyes can’t leave the sight of his future riduur.

Viven’s dark eyes run over the sight of Din, a loud growl coming from his chest. “I warned your father about you becoming leader, you do nothing but shame our name. You’re not even a real Mandalorian!”

Din’s body physically stiffens, hot, pulsing anger setting his skin ablaze. It’s not anything new, hearing it his whole life how he will never match up to the expectations of them but none the less he was still named leader.

Viven yells words in a different dialect but the reaction of the crowd is filled with yells of support, cheering in a sickening way that makes her stomach twist. Din’s eyes shift from hers to the blue Mandalorian, his words are also foreign but the crowd let’s out a victory cry, it’s sick of easily his own clan turns on him.

Din Djarin has accepted the challenge to the death for his rightful place as Mand'lor and she has absolutely no idea as Din reaches behind his back to retrieve the spear of beskar as he lets out a warriors cry.

Tags: @xxyoshiplushxx, @altarsw, @dinsbeskar, @engie115, @owloveyounever, @peterpangirl21, @couldntbedamned, @poguesvixen, @mudhornchronicles, @mcueveryday, @softly-sad, @heythere-mel, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @the-last-twin-of-krypton, @nikkixostan, @coonflix, @victias (if you want to be tagged, tag list is up by summary)

179 notes · View notes

xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

5280 feet (m)

“Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.”

[jimin x flight attendant!reader]

genre: mile high club!au, smut, slight pwp, some humor, some fluff (if you squint)

word count: 5.8k

rating: mature

warnings: uhhhh unprotected airplane sex lmao, fingering, oral, cum shot, more unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, language

a/n: please tell me i’m not the only one who fantasizes about being a member of the mile high club?? LOL. i planned this fic a while ago, but forgot about it until yesterday. and surprisingly, all 5k+ came pretty naturally; of course, i never intended it to be 5k lol. the plot just kept continuing. xoxo

“I think one of these days, I’m just going to collapse and die,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It tasted dark and bitter—much like your mood right now.

“Oh, you’re being dramatic,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “you love this job.”

He was right—you did love being a flight attendant. It was probably the best decision you’ve ever made, and you’ve made a lot of bad ones. Instead of completing the standard four years of college, you managed one measly semester and decided school just wasn’t for you. The only reason you applied was for your mother’s sanity anyway; you promised you’d try, and try you did. Obviously, your mother freaked because your life was doomed—a fucking college dropout; what good could come from it?

Well, five years later, you’d consider your life pretty successful. Not only have you traveled all over the world, but you’ve met some interesting people. The only downside to this career was the demanding, god-forsaken hours.

Take your predicament right now as an example; you woke up this morning at around four o’clock, dazed and confused, before remembering that you spent another night at a hotel in an unfamiliar city. You’ve never really been a morning person, so you’ve yet to master the early morning calls.

After an entire day of flying, along with an array of rude and needy passengers, you are on the last flight of the day—the flight that is going to take you home to your bed.

Pulling your suitcases behind you, you and Seokjin make it to the gate of your final assignment for the day and greet the pilot. He lets you know that the flight is going to be over two hours and you’re completely okay with that.

“Whatever will get me home tonight, Yoongi,” you smile tiredly, realizing that your coffee is already finished.

“It shouldn’t be a terribly full flight, so I think we’ll manage.”

Yoongi boards the plane first, along with his co-pilot, to make sure everything is working properly, and lets you and Seokjin know that you two can board in ten minutes. In the time you still have to wait, people begin arriving at the gate. You hope Yoongi is right, and that the flight isn’t packed, because you honestly aren’t in the mood to deal with the audacious demands of people right now.

Quickly excusing yourself to the restroom, you freshen up a little and give yourself a little prep talk, “You can do this, y/n—just one more flight and then you have the rest of the week off.”

You are so looking forward to your break. Rarely do you ever get so many days off in-between your schedule, so you’re beyond excited. It was finally time for you and your bed to become reacquainted with one another.

When you get back to the gate, Seokjin offers you a smile. “Looking better.”

“I feel much better; maybe the caffeine is kicking in after all.” Some of your favorite workdays were the days you and Seokjin got to work together. It wasn’t often since your airline has multiple crewmembers, but these last rotation days have been fun—minus today since you’re in a rush to go home. “Got any plans when you get home?”

“I think my wife just misses me, so we’ll probably just be staying at home,” he laughs, and you wistfully sigh at the thought of marriage.

At that moment, you both get a notice to board the plane and you excitedly hand one of the desk attendants your boarding pass. As you both walk through the boarding gate, you can’t help but muse, “Must be nice to have someone to return home to.”

“Weren’t you seeing that one guy…?”

“Oh, Namjoon?” you ask, and Seokjin nods. “Yeah…I was; unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” he asks.

Shrugging, you say, “I guess it was because I was busy? Being a flight attendant means I’m not always home, and Namjoon wanted someone who could always be around.”

“Are you doing alright though?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Our relationship wasn’t that serious anyway and if I’m being honest, I really didn’t like Namjoon that much.”

Boarding the plane, you and Seokjin stow your bags away and begin preparing the necessities for the flight. After so many years in the business, all of this prep feels like second nature to you. Within minutes, you have almost everything prepped just in time for the passengers arriving on the plane.

As people begin boarding, you wear your best smile and greet them. One by one, you watch the different people boarding—you see everything from families to singles. Although you’re smiling at everyone, you’re not one hundred percent paying attention, that is until you catch the persistent gaze of one passenger.

You aren’t even actively looking at him; but you know that feeling of someone watching you? Well, for some reason, he was staring you down, so you had to look at him. And when you do, an immediate wave of heat rolls over your body. The moment he passes by you, towering a few inches above you in your modest heels, you catch a whiff of his cologne that sends a pulse down to your core.

Good thing you’ve perfected at least your poker face because hot damn that was that a fine piece of man in front of you. You’ve encountered hot passengers on other flights but never has someone affected you like this. Perhaps it was the swagger in his walk or the confidence that permeated the recycled air, but it was intoxicating.

From your peripheral, you notice that he found a seat early on the plane—meaning he was seated in first-class. You didn’t even pay attention to what he was wearing. Was he a businessman? Those are the types that always sit in first-class.

Soon, the doors of the plane shut, and you have to begin with the plane briefing and safety protocols.

“Y/n, for the safety demonstration, I’ll take the back half of the plane and you stay here in first-class, okay?” Seokjin asks from somewhere, but you can’t even focus. You absentmindedly nod before realizing that you’ll be in close proximity with that man from earlier. You’re about to protest when your friend suddenly speaks up again. “Actually, can you stay in first-class and the front of economy today? I’d rather be in the back of the plane.”

Oh, great. “Uh…sure. That’s fine, I guess.”

Beginning the safety instructions, you once again feel the same heated gaze from earlier and wonder if it’s because you look like a mess? Was there something on your uniform? You’ll be the first to admit that flight attending uniforms weren’t the cutest things in the world, but it was the standard, so you have no choice.

After you finish the safety instructions, you move onto the pre-flight service in first-class. You peaked and noticed that mystery man is sitting in the last row of first-class, so you don’t have to immediately talk to him. Even as you bring glasses of champagne and various other cups of liquor to the other passengers in first-class, the feeling of being watched never fully goes away. And eventually, you find yourself in front of him.

“Good evening sir, is there anything I can get you before we take off?” you try not to directly look at him.

“Yes, I’ll have a glass of your best red wine and you,” he says so smoothly, you almost don’t catch the bit at the end.

When you do, your eyes flutter to his. “Excuse me?”

“I wanted you to look at me, doll,” he smiles, and you feel your heart explode. This man was unbelievably attractive. You momentarily glance at his clothing and he is indeed wearing a suit. But he wears it in such a way that isn’t overly stuffy. Underneath his blazer is a simple white button-up, but the top two buttons are open and leave little to the imagination.

“Anything else besides the wine, sir?” you ignore the comment made about you.

“How about your name?” he asks, leaning towards you. Was he flirting with you?

You offer a passive smile, “I don’t think that’s on the menu.”

“Are you sure you’re not on the menu? Because,” he licks his lower lip, “I would love to have those long legs wrapped around me or maybe your sweet lips wrapped around my cock.”

If people could turn into puddles, you’d be a total melted mess right now. Instinctively, your thighs snap together, and you release a shaky breath. You nervously look around and hope no one thinks anything suspicious is happening right now. Quickly, you excuse yourself and air out the top of your uniform. It is too damn hot in here.

Walking back with a glass of red wine, you hand it to the extremely forward stranger. “Here you so, sir. I hope you enjoy.”

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward a moment ago,” he takes a sip of the wine and you watch as he licks a drop off his lips. “But you’re too beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“No, it’s…attractive,” you admit, which not only surprises him but surprises you too.

He gives you another mega-watt smile. “The name’s Jimin.”

“Y/n,” you finally relent just as Yoongi announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. Leaving Jimin with a last look, you go and take your seat as the plane lifts into the air.

***

Once the plane reaches a certain altitude and seat belts can be unbuckled, you begin the process off offering refreshments to the other passengers. You and Seokjin tag team this feat and Yoongi was right, there aren’t as many people on this flight; this makes the whole process much easier. Even though you’re occupied with offering cups of ginger ale and sprite to passengers, you can’t stop thinking about Jimin.

You blame the fact that you haven’t had a proper orgasm in a few days. Mix that with your awful day, and you’re dying for a sweet release. For the last half hour, Jimin has had you all hot and bothered. Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

You blink at Seokjin, “Fine—just tired.”

Putting the refreshment carts away in the back, you both do one round of garbage collection before Seokjin excuses himself to the makeshift lounge. On this plane, since it is a bit bigger, there is a little lounge for the crew. However, it only fits one person usually. Pouting, you make your way back to the front of the plane and double check with a few passengers.

As you’re about to pass first-class, you feel your core tighten from the thought of being in close proximity to Jimin again. Even though you feel his eyes on you once again, you ignore the sensation and focus on the other first-class passengers.

“Can I have another glass of champagne?” one woman asks, and you promptly bring her another cold glass.

You continue catering to everyone’s needs before you find yourself in front of Jimin again. Never have you been more thankful for the bit of privacy first-class offers because the pure and unadulterated desire that seeps from Jimin almost has you on your knees. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Are you still off the menu, y/n?” he asks, and the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you weak. Your expression only seems to fuel his desire though. “I’ll have another glass on red wine.”

You practically run to get the wine. As you pour his drink, you honestly aren’t sure if you’ll make it the whole flight feeling this tense. There is still at least another hour and a half of the flight, but your self-control is wearing thin. Maybe if you just quickly slipped into the lavatory…your face heats at the thought. In all of your years as a flight attendant, you’ve never even once considered doing something like that.

As someone working in the airplane industry, you’ve heard of the so-called mile high club—people who have sex on planes. You will admit that the thought has always intrigued you, but to actually participate? Not only would you be jeopardizing your job, but also your reputation.

During your first year as a flight attendant, you heard a rumor about a girl who worked on a different airline that got fired for getting caught having sex on the job. You don’t remember the details of what exactly happened, but all you need to remember is that she ended up jobless and you don’t want that to be your reality.

Walking back to Jimin, you catch him staring at you again and tension once again radiates throughout your body.

“Here you go,” you hand him the glass of wine. Just as you’re about to walk away, his hands move to wrap around your wrist.

“Tell me about yourself,” he prompts, taking you by surprise. “What? Thought that I just wanted to fuck you?”

Your mouth drops at his boldness, and Jimin comments something that sounds like you’re cute.

“I mean, I do want to do that too,” he continues, hand wrapped underneath his jaw. “But I am curious to know more about you.”

“I’m twenty-three and I’ve been a flight attendant for almost five years,” you offer, unsure if that’s the kind of information he wants to know. “I love my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

Jimin takes a sip of his wine before saying, “I’m twenty-six and I work in a multi-million-dollar business. I love-hate my job but couldn’t imagine doing anything else either.”

“Is that where you’re headed today?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he unbuttons another button from his shirt and proceeds to take off his jacket. Although you try to be discreet, Jimin catches your nervous swallow. “I do these business trips every month. I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning, which is why I took a flight tonight.”

“Well, if you have a chance, the city is beautiful and you should go sightseeing,” you tell him, surprised that you both are having a normal conversation.

“You’ve been?” he asks.

You laugh in response. “I live there.”

Jimin’s eyebrows perk up. “Oh, really? I wasn’t sure since I know flight attendants spend a certain number of days working prior to flying home.”

“This is my last flight of this particular schedule,” you don’t know why you feel the need to tell him this, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Interesting,” Jimin nods. “Don’t you think we should celebrate?”

At his question, your brows furrow. You don’t understand what he means. “Celebrate what?”

“This being your last flight.”

“How?”

Despite the setting sun casting the cabin in golden hour, Jimin’s eyes appear to darken in the light. Something mischievous glints in them and all he says is, “Three taps.”

***

You have no idea what three taps means.

After that comment from Jimin, you walked back to your seat to contemplate his words. There is no possible way anything can happen—there is less than an hour before they land now. What kind of celebration was he even talking about?

Mulling over his words, you do a walk through all the cabins with Seokjin and snicker when you see his bedhead. “Have a good nap?”

“Even though it was only twenty minutes, I needed that,” he smiles sheepishly

“No wonder you wanted to sit in the back.”

You pick up some trash from the passengers and throw it into the trash bag that Seokjin holds. “You can have a quick nap if you want.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you shake your head. “The flight’s almost over anyway.”

Checking your watch, there should only be about thirty minutes left of the flight. On your way back to your seat, you slip into the lavatory and splash some water on your face. You are still feeling a bit hot and bothered, but your house was within reach. And being home meant you could use all of your delicious toys tucked away in your side drawer.

Just as you wipe the water off your face, you hear a knock on the door. You yell out that it’s occupied, and even double check to make sure you locked the door. You did. So, who knocked? Throwing the paper towel away, there’s another knock on the door…and then another. Your stomach tightens when you realize there were three consecutive knocks—three taps.

You mouth runs dry at the thought of who might be on the other side of the door. There is also a jolt of electricity that runs up your spine at the thought of what’s going to happen, and even more so at the fact that you could get caught. Earlier, you were worried about getting caught and potentially losing your job; however, now, the risk thrilled you.

So, you decide to say fuck it and unlock the door.

Immediately, Jimin enters the lavatory and swiftly locks it behind him. You open your mouth to say something to him but before you can, he steps forward and pushes you back against the sink. Grabbing your face in his hands, his lips crash onto yours. You moan at the sheer force of his kiss. His lips move over yours as if he’s kissed your lips a thousand times. Like he knows exactly how to set you off.

You don’t know how, but clothes start coming off and you find yourself on your knees in front of him. Your breast are already on full display and he leans down to pinch your nipples before moving to cup your face.

“Suck my cock, baby girl,” Jimin coos, rubbing his thumb over your lips.

Unbuckling his pants, you reach into his briefs and pull out his cock. There’s already precum smeared over the tip and hard shaft, and you wonder just how long he’s been like this.

“I’ve been hard since the flight started,” he seems to read your mind. “The moment I saw that tight ass in that skirt…fuck.”

You take Jimin into your mouth without warning, marveling at his size and how you’re already dripping through your panties. You’re no prude, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life.

As you suck on the tip and work the rest with your hands, the sounds that come from Jimin’s mouth feed your desire. He’s surprisingly vocal—his moans high pitched and needy. “Yes…just like that, baby. You suck cock so well, huh?”

You hum in response, and Jimin’s hands weave their way into your hair. He guides you closer to his groin, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choke at the sensation, but it’s worth the pleasure that Jimin seems to feel. He begins fucking your mouth; body shaking slightly at the feeling of lips around his cock.

Eventually, he pulls away and lifts you off the ground. Unexpectedly, he brings you close for another kiss—the sloppy, messy kind that moves from your lips to your jaw, and curves to your neck and collarbone. As he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your shoulder, he raises you up on the sink and pulls your panties to the side.

The moment his thumb presses against your clit, you’re done for. You jerk at the way he works your little nub, nearly crying because you’ve wanted nothing more than release. “Oh my god, Jimin.”

It doesn’t take you long to feel the steady build of your orgasm coming. It really has been so long since you’ve felt this good; and when Jimin inserts two fingers inside of you, finding that g-spot, you come undone instantly.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” you arch back against the mirror and Jimin can’t help but stare at your expression in wonder.

“That’s right, baby,” he continues to rub your sensitive clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Keep coming for me, and then I’m going to fuck you so good.”

The second you come down from your high, Jimin pushes his cock into you and you let out the loudest moan. He fucks you hard and fast, hips slamming against your pelvis rhythmically. For a second, you wonder if he dances because there was no way normal hips should move that way. But that thought fades when Jimin pulls your closer to the edge of the sink, and somehow manages to get an even deeper angle.

“F-Feels so good, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

You nod in response and look down to see the way his cock looks entering your wet cunt. The sight alone would’ve been enough to send you over the edge again, but you held it in. More than anything, you wanted Jimin to come too. Wrapping your legs even tighter around him, you begin to meet him thrust for thrust. Soon, his hip movements become jerky and you know he’s close.

“I don’t know how much longer I-I can…” Jimin groans, slowing down. “Are you close?”

“Mhmm,” you moan. “I’m almost there….”

With a few more hard thrusts, and a thumb pressed to your clit, you shut your eyes as your second orgasm rolls over you. The way your walls clench around him have Jimin gasping as he pulls out and shoots his load all over your stomach. You watch the milky white ropes mark your skin, and even lift a bit into your mouth.

“You know, I would’ve swallowed,” you muse, loving the way Jimin’s expression darkens once again.

“I guess we’ll just have to do that next time,” he smirks, causing you to become speechless.

You both clean up in silence, and you try to make yourself look pre-coital. Jimin laughs at the way you attempt to straighten your wrinkled skirt, but you just pout because he looks amazing even with the just-fucked look. “No fair.”

“You look hot,” Jimin swears, pinching your butt a little and making you jump.

Jimin sneaks back out of the lavatory first and you follow behind a moment later, walking as casually as you can to your seat. Thankfully, you arrive just in time because Yoongi announces over the intercom that you’re descending soon, which means everyone needs to buckle up.

As the plane lands in the city, the sky is a gorgeous shade of purple dusk. Immediately, you feel reenergized from being home, and also because you just had the best sex of your life…in an airplane lavatory. You blush again at the thought of Jimin’s thick cock inside of you, and then sigh when you realize you’ll probably never see him again. What a tragedy.

The moment the plane pulls up to the gate, and Yoongi turns the engine off, everyone begins filing out of the plane. You bid each passenger goodbye and wonder why you haven’t seen Jimin yet—after all, he was sitting in first-class. Eventually, you realize he’s the last person to leave and when he stands in front of you, he sticks his hand out.

Instinctively, though confused, you shake it and he leaves without another word. You watch him step off the plane and feel…sad? Although you barely know the man, you were definitely intrigued and wanted to see him again. When you move to grab your bags, you realize that there is a slip of paper in your hand. Wait; did Jimin put it there? Quickly opening the note, you read it and a wide smile stretches across your face.

He gave you his number.

***

After you say goodbye to Seokjin and Yoongi, you waste no time texting Jimin.

9:01 PM | You: hi…this is y/n

9:01 PM | Jimin: y/n. didn’t think you’d actually text back lol

You can’t help but laugh a little at his response. Why wouldn’t you text back? Right now, the only thing you can think about is him.

9:02 PM | You: of course. I want to see you again

You send your next text without even fully thinking it through. It was impulsive and a bit unlike you to be so frank, that was clearly Jimin’s forte, but what was there to lose? If Jimin hadn’t secretly given you his number, there would have been no way you’d see him again.

By the time you make it to your car, Jimin hasn’t said anything back. Doubt and worry fills you—was he tired of you already? Maybe you were bad at sex? No, then why would he have bothered with the number anyway? Your mind swirls through terrible scenarios before you receive another message

9:06 PM | Jimin: me too, doll. Meet me at my hotel?

9:06 PM | Jimin: I would’ve waited but my ride was already here waiting for me, and I didn’t know if you…

Your body pulsates at the thought of seeing him now. Earlier today, all you wanted was to go home; now, the idea of warming Jimin’s hotel bed seemed too tempting to pass up.

9:07 PM | You: okay

***

You pull up to the hotel that Jimin sent the address to and gawk at the posh exterior. There are a number of ritzy hotels in your city, and you figured Jimin would be staying at a nicer one, but it was still shocking to experience.

As your mouth stays parted, someone gently taps at your window. You jump a little and see a man standing there. Rolling down your window, you take in his uniform and are about to ask where you can park.

“I can valet park for you, ma’am,” he says, cutting you off. “You’re with Mr. Park, correct?”

Who is Mr. Park? Before you have a chance to answer, your phone vibrates with a text message. Looking down, you see that Jimin’s texted you.

9:30 PM | Jimin: let the valet take your car

“Umm, okay,” you tell the man and step out of the car. Walking around to grab your luggage from the back, you see that another man has already fetched it for you. Is this what it’s like to have money? You quickly thank them both and make your way inside of the hotel.

As you reach the front desk, the receptionist offers you a smile. “Mr. Park is in the Presidential Suite. It’s on the very top floor, ma’am.”

Your mouth drops again, and you wonder if maybe you had the wrong perception of Jimin. When he mentioned on the plane that he worked for a big business, you figured he was just a normal employee. Yeah, every business has its perks, so you figured that was just the case. However, maybe Jimin is higher up the business food chain than you thought. Also, how did she know you were the person Jimin was supposed to meet?

After thanking the receptionist, you walk in the direction of the elevators. Getting in one, you press the highest number on the elevator and begin to go up. Once you make it to the top floor, you walk out of the elevator and realize there is only one door. You laugh a little; guess there’s no way you can get lost then.

Standing in front of the door, you knock three times and wait for Jimin to answer. Within seconds, he does, and you realize he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is damp, and you marvel at the droplets that cascade down his body. He laughs at your reaction and ushers you to come inside.

But the second you’re through the threshold, your luggage tips over as Jimin pushes you against a wall.

“Hey, doll,” his breath fans across your face.

“Hey, Mr. Park,” you smirk a little. “So, tell me, just how rich are you?”

Jimin chuckles and begins to pepper kisses along your face and jawline. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out. Tends to make people want to stay, if you know what I mean.”

Grabbing his face into your hands, you tell him, “Jimin, I don’t care that you have money.”

His expression softens at your words.

“And how could I not figure that out when you’re staying in a fucking Presidential Suite?” you continue, pressing a kiss on his chin. “Kind of a dead giveaway.”

“Fuck my money,” he rolls his eyes. “I just want to properly bury my face in your pussy.”

Fire ignites in your core as Jimin pulls you away from the doorway and past the main area. You barely have time to admire the ceiling to floor glass windows or the modern layout of furniture because he drags you into the bedroom. Jimin throws himself onto his bed, and you don’t miss the way his towel barely clings to his body. “Strip for me.”

You are still in your flight attendant outfit; however, you oblige and begin peeling the same clothes Jimin tore off your body earlier. You delight in the way Jimin watches your every move. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. Once you slip out of your panties, fully exposed to him, he pulls you on top of his lap for a kiss.

On his lips, you can still taste the remnants of the red wine he had on the plane. But unlike the rushed kisses in the lavatory, Jimin kisses you passionately now. His tongue dances with your own, and he gently nips at your lips before pushing you onto your back.

Above you, he works a trail down your body; sucking your already hard nipples into his mouth. You let out a shuddering moan when he reaches the sensitive skin above your cunt. He licks the skin there, and then dives into your core.

“A-Ah!” your back arches at the feeling of Jimin’s tongue fucking you.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, baby girl,” he groans.

Jimin replaces his tongue with one finger, and you’re about to whine at the loss of his mouth when his mouth moves to your clit and doubles the sensation. “Fuck.”

“Just like that, baby,” he coos, inserting another finger. “Are you going to come for me?”

You helplessly nod at his ministrations. He continues to suck on your little nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. When he inserts a third finger inside your wetness, it sends you past the point of no return and you cry out your climax.

“Beautiful,” he hums, lapping up your release and you’ve never seen anything hotter. Sitting up, he watches you with a smug grin and starts pumping his hardening cock in front of you. “Get on your side.”

Although your legs already feel like jelly, you do as he says and lay on your side. Jimin moves behind you, and the feeling of your back pressed against his chest sends a shiver down your pack. Gently, Jimin lifts one of your legs over his and slides inside of you.

Just a few hours ago, he was inside of you, but the stretch still feels amazing now. His pace is slow, and he presses chaste kisses along your shoulder. After a few shallow thrusts, he hits you with a particularly hard one and you let out a low moan.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispers into your ear, arm reaching over to fondle your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me, Mr. Park.”

Jimin nips at your ear, “What was that, doll? Couldn’t hear you.”

You repeat you statement louder, and he lets out a satisfied grunt. Jimin’s hips pick up their pace and the forearm holding you up falls at the force of his thrusts. The lewd noises coming out of your mouth are loud and brazen, but the dirty sweet nothings that left Jimin’s lips are enough to make you orgasm a second time—well, fourth if you count the two from earlier today.

“Ohmygod, Jimin.”

“Yes, fuck, doll—you feel so fucking good on my cock.” Clutching the bedsheets through your high, Jimin breathes heavily behind you, “Fuck. Where do you want me to cum, baby girl?”

Even though you just came, you still can’t help the moans that leave your mouth. “Anywhere. I-I don’t c-care.”

“Can I come inside of you?”

The thought of Jimin filling you up with his cum is so fucking hot, you nod and feel him explode inside of you. He leans against your shoulder as he coats your inner walls. When he finally pulls out, you fall back onto your elbows and examine the mess he made.

“Has anyone ever told you that your pussy is a wonderland?” Jimin asks, walking towards you with a wet cloth. You’re about to take it from him to clean yourself, but he ends up doing it for you.

You blush at the action. “Uh…I don’t think so.”

“Well, it is,” he meets your gaze. You feel yourself blush even harder.

Jimin discards the wet cloth and you realize this is the awkward part. At least on the plane, you could just go back to your seat. Here, what are you supposed to do? Getting up from the bed, you slip your panties back on and cringe at how wet they are.

“Where are you going?”

You stop in your tracks. “Leaving?”

Jimin pulls back the covers of the bed and slips inside, beckoning you. “Stay.”

“Don’t you have that huge meeting early tomorrow?”

“So?” he asks, and you slip into bed right beside him—sans clothing. “Besides, I want to fuck you again.”

You roll your eyes as he pulls you closer, “Isn’t twice enough?”

“I think I might be addicted,” he admits, which makes your heart stutter.

You’re about to tell him the same, but you yawn instead. Suddenly, you remember that you’ve been up since four this morning and that you’ve been running on god knows how many shots of espresso.

“Tired?” Jimin takes the words right out of your mouth.

Nodding, you mutter unintelligently. You probably should shower and brush your teeth, but you honestly can’t be bothered since Jimin feels so good beside you. His body is warm and comfortable; before you can say another word to him, you’re already drifting into dreamland.

As you sleep tangled in his arms, Jimin grazes his fingers over your face and thinks about how beautiful you look even like this. He wasn’t lying when he said he might be addicted to you. He only met you today and already had you twice, but the desire to have more of you is insatiable.

You are definitely going to be his ruin.

#armiesnet #btsbookclub #bangtan bookclub #jimin fic #bts fic #bangtan fic #bts smut #kpop fic #jimin #park jimin #bts #bangtan #smut #pwp #5280 feet #xbaepsae

372 notes · View notes

san-shui · 3 years

Text

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED! @djts-arts

i'm sorry this took a while but here's ur gift! it's based off on the MLB AU but doesn't follow ur plot. basically - let parrmour be happy lol! anyway i love you and hope you enjoy it!

i also posted it on ao3

On Monday

On Monday, I met you

It was the first day of school and the first akuma attack when Jane Seymour, a.k.a. Chat Noire, met Ladyblue.

How they met was by accident when Ladyblue flew into Chat Noire, who was walking along her baton like a tightrope, learning her new abilities. Their time to get acquainted was cut due to having to fight an akumatized classmate, Stoneheart.

But the moment Chat Noire met her partner in crime, she was entranced.

I liked you, I liked you

The girl had bronze skin and short, dark curly hair that parted on her left side with blue highlights hanging over her deep brown eyes.

Her skintight was black with light blue on the front in the style of an opened short sleeve jacket that stopped at the waist and on the legs from the knees down her to her feet, and within the light blue were black spots while white pearls lined along her wrists and waist into a “V” on the front. Her mask was opposite of the suit (light blue with black spots), and on her head was a black headband with silver spikes.

Even though she was in her superhero outfit, Ladyblue was gorgeous. Appearance was one thing, but her personality was another, and it's just as beautiful as her. Her bravery, her cleverness, her strength, her positivity, and her confidence.

It’s Monday – bad day

After defeating Stoneheart for the second and official time, the superheroes checked to make sure that the citizens were alive and well. To their surprise and glee, the akumatized classmate ended up dating their crush.

But good day for us

“They’re made for each other,” Ladyblue awed.

“Like us two,” Chat Noire flirted, offering her new partner a hand.

Good for us

Right then, Chat Noire’s ring beeped as the fourth paw flashes green – signaling one minute left before transforming back into civilian form. At that, Ladyblue grabbed her wrist and pulled it forward, showing the ring.

“Uh-oh, you see that?” Ladyblue asked lightly.

Chat Noire glanced at it then at her, and noticed how close their faces were to each other.

Even though they just met today, Chat Noire briefly wondered how those lips felt against her. It must’ve been subconscious because the next thing Chat Noire knew was her eyes drifted close then getting shoved back.

You wouldn’t let me kiss you

“Time to split,” Ladyblue said, releasing her hand.

Too stunned to move or speak, Chat Noire merely stood and watched as Ladyblue walked away.

“See you soon, Chat Noire,” Ladyblue said with a wave, then swung her yoyo out and launched herself into the air and behind some buildings.

Chat Noire smiled and dazely waved.

And that is why

She’s been in a relationship before and truly thought she was in love with him, but he turned out to be douche. She thought she learned to not fall in love so fast, but fighting alongside Ladyblue, Chat Noire was willing to do anything to get closer to her.

“Can’t wait, milady,” she whispered, then turned and vaulted away.

You were my kind of guy

~~~

Then Tuesday, I called you

Chat Noire was playing with her baton while lying lazily on a roof. After defeating another akumatized civilian, the superheroes agreed on doing patrol around London to further prevent harm and more akumas. Chat Noire wanted to talk to Ladyblue, but she left before Chat Noire could get a word in.

Chat Noire wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Wasn’t Ladyblue curious about her partner too? Or was she just too busy today? Chat Noire knew what it was like to be busy. Her civilian form, Jane Seymour, was a famous singer in England, she was bound to be crowded with meetings and rehearsals and classes.

Still, why did Ladyblue leave in a hurry?

Chat Noire supposed she could learn more about her baton’s gadgets. She had the rest of the day anyway. She was boredly pressing buttons when Contacts popped up on the screen. Seeing the only contact on her baton was Ladyblue’s, Chat Noire perked up.

She immediately pressed “call” under Ladyblue’s profile and waited eagerly. To her disappointment, the call went to voicemail. Chat Noire frowned, but it quickly vanished when an idea hit, and she pressed “call” again.

Several hours later, Chat Noire had left about 15 voicemails for Ladyblue of her rambling about her day. Unlike the others, the last voicemail was sincere as she asked if they could meet and talk. Assuming Ladyblue wouldn’t answer, Chat Noire set down her baton, sighed, and gazed at the starry night.

Ignored me, straight voicemail

A minute later, her baton vibrated with a beep, and Chat Noire glanced to see a notification from Ladyblue. She excitedly opened it to a message.

You texted back saying:

Ladyblue: play hard to get. ready. set . . .

You wouldn’t let me see you

Baffled, Chat Noire reread the text over and over. What was that supposed to mean? Was Ladyblue interested? Did she think she (Chat Noire) was messing around? She knew she was a jokester between the two, but she’s real when it comes to feelings.

Whatever it meant, it was clear that Ladyblue was not going to video call with her - at least for today.

Got so depressed by your test

Chat Noire sighed. That’s fine, she didn’t want to pressure her partner to the point of scaring her. Although she probably annoyed her with all of the voicemails. Chat Noire would gladly wait to see her lady, but that didn’t dismiss the depression that she felt at unanswered calls and the game Ladyblue set up.

Still I thought

Yet, a smile crept on her lips at the excitement of the game with Ladyblue, and she typed her response.

You’re the best

Chat Noire: u’re on >:P

‘Cause I’ve been so juvenile

That to take my time is just not my style

~~~

Come Wednesday, black coffee

After purifying the akuma, the victim offered them free coffee. Chat Noire happily agreed, while Ladyblue hesitated but agreed.

“You like black coffee?” Chat Noire asked her partner.

“Yeah, and you don’t?” she countered, raising a brow.

“Just because I look good in black doesn’t mean I like black coffee. I prefer flavor like myself,” Chat Noire teased proudly.

Ladyblue rolled her eyes, and Chat Noire laughed. Once they got their coffee and gave their thanks, the heroes left to drink in peace. They decided to sit on Big Ben, having a perfect view of their city.

Pure talking, clean touching

For hours, they talked and laughed. At some point, they discussed their double lives as being superheroes. While Jane was thrilled to have more freedom as Chat Noire, Ladyblue appeared anxious and concerned.

“I’m glad doing this to save London, but I can’t help but think I’m not the right one for this job,” Ladyblue confessed, staring down at the busy streets.

Chat Noire frowned and leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the sky.

“I get that. I doubt myself too sometimes. This may be bias but–”

Feeling bold, she placed a hand on Ladyblue’s. Startled, Ladyblue stared at their hands then at her with wide eyes.

“–I think you’re perfect for the job. Sure, we have flaws, but that’s what makes us human. I’ve never seen someone as smart, brave, and strong as you. I know we’ve only met and done this for three days, but it feels like a lifetime, and I can’t picture a better Ladyblue than you,” said Chat Noire sincerely.

Chat Noire wasn’t sure if it was the sun’s lighting, but she could’ve sworn she saw color on Ladyblue’s cheeks.

Oh, Wednesday, hump day

Ladyblue averted her eyes and stammered.

“I– um, thank you, Chat. I couldn’t have a better partner than you,” she said, facing Chat Noire again.

From the soft tone and her genuine eyes, Chat Noire knew she meant it and smiled. Then, to her astonishment, Ladyblue turned her hand over, grasped Chat Noire’s, and squeezed it gently. Chat Noire’s heart skipped a beat, and a silent gasp left her lips.

But we just held hands

“And I can’t picture a better Chat Noire,” Ladyblue whispered, giving her a small smile.

Chat Noire beamed and laughed.

“That’s a relief to know,” she teased.

Ladyblue giggled then gazed forward again.

You wouldn’t let me take you away for the day

As much as Chat Noire wanted to do more than hold hands, she was content with this for the day. Facing out, she too stared out at the city. About an hour later, Chat Noire decided to push her luck for the day.

“Are you up for hanging out more? Maybe go see a movie?” she asked.

Ladyblue chuckled and shook her head.

“Sorry, kitty, but I gotta stay. I have some things I need to finish,” she excused apologetically.

Chat Noire tried her best to hide her disappointment.

And I felt so juvenile

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good luck on your stuff,” she said.

Chat Noire then took Ladyblue’s hand, who was close to resisting until Chat Noire simply kissed her knuckles.

“Goodnight, milady,” she said, shooting her a wink.

Suppressing a smile, Ladyblue shook her head.

“Night, Chat Noire,” Ladyblue said.

Chat Noire smirked then jumped away. As she leaped from building to building, a part of her was feeling impatient with her and Ladyblue’s relationship (friends or more). She was clearly pushing it, but she didn’t know what else to do with these feelings – especially towards a girl.

The logical side of her informed Chat Noire that she’s taking this too fast, but the emotional, useless, romantic side of her wanted her to pursue this. Hell, she only knew her partner for three days, and Chat Noire was willing to do anything for her.

You gave an inch of time, and I took a mile

If Ladyblue wanted to just be friends, she would’ve said, right? Maybe she was interested in Chat Noire, but was too afraid to admit it or didn’t know it yet.

Arriving at her mansion, Chat Noire jumped through her bedroom window and landed quietly on her floor. She de-transformed into her normal clothes then walked over and face planted on her bed with a groan.

“You’re such a useless lesbian,” Plagg said bluntly, floating above her head.

“Shut up, Plagg,” Jane mumbled into her pillow, but Plagg ignored her.

“Psh, why love a complicated human when you have camembert!” Plagg said, throwing a piece of cheese up and into his mouth.

Jane flipped over onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“She may be complicated, but she’s still amazing. I’m still not sure how we ended up getting these miraculous, but we’re meant to be. I can feel it,” she said thoughtfully.

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Yuck. You being all gushie is making me sick. If you need me, I’ll be in the cabinet with my love,” he said, stroking a piece of cheese then disappearing into a desk under the TV.

Jane grinned and shook her head then stared out her window at the moon as thoughts of Ladyblue swarmed her head.

I was so juvenile

‘Cause to take it slow is just not my style

~~~

Then Thursday, like Tuesday

Fed up with her family, Jane used Chat Noire as an excuse to flee her house. She roamed around London for a bit, helping citizens here and there, then ended up relaxing on top of a building.

Similar to Tuesday, Chat Noire called Ladyblue and left voicemails about her day. She probably shouldn't bother her, but Chat Noire found comfort doing this. She’s not sure why, but being able to talk to someone other than Plagg was relieving.

But unlike Tuesday, Ladybug never responded. This baffled Chat Noire. Was it something she did yesterday? Everything seemed fine . . .

Your “day off” from me

A loud crash came from behind, and Chat Noire turned to see a large robot stomping through the streets. It was about to hit another building until a yoyo stopped it, restraining its arm back. Chat Noire followed the line to see Ladyblue tugging on it.

Maybe that’s why Ladyblue hasn't responded. Whatever the reason was, Chat Noire had to put the issue aside as she sprinted to help her partner.

~~~

But Friday busy

Twice, Chat Noire tried to bring up Wednesday’s night event, but Ladyblue kept dodging it, using an akumatization or needing to hide before transforming as reasons to avoid the topic.

And Saturday too

Another victim saved, and Ladyblue and Chat Noire’s partnership appeared alright, but Jane could see through the mask (figuratively and literally) that Ladyblue was evading more moments with her. Jane’s heart broke the less Ladyblue interacted with her when they’re not fighting alongside each other.

Not wanting to deal with this game anymore, Jane made certain Ladyblue would talk to her the next day.

What’s up with you?

~~~

On Sunday, after a well fought battle with an akuma, Chat Noire caught Ladyblue before she left.

You don’t wanna kiss me

“Ladyblue, wait!”

You don’t wanna see me

Ladyblue froze and stared at her with apprehension.

You don’t wanna take me

“You’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why. I get you don’t wanna kiss me, but why don’t you want to see me? Or even be with me?” Chat Noire asked desperately. “Look, if it’s something I said or did on Wednesday, then I’m sorry. I know it seemed like a game and it’s only been a week now, but I really really like you. But if you don’t feel the same, you can tell me. It’s okay.”

So let me go

Chat Noire lowered her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the heartbreaking words. Instead, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, prompting her to look up into kind eyes.

But you said:

“There’s things I know . . . you are cute, but juvenile,” Ladyblue said, booping her on the nose.

Then she placed her hand on Chat Noire’s cheek, who happily leaned into the touch.

“Don’t you know the greatest love takes the greatest while? So if you’re willing, take my hand and take the trial for just a mile and then another mile. Be patient for that one day.”

Before Chat Noire could blink, Ladyblue kissed her on the other cheek. When she pulled back, both faces were blushing. Ladyblue chuckled and looked at the sunset.

“Look, kitty, it’s Sunday,” she said, then glanced back at her. “Come with me, and I’ll make it worth your while. Maybe it’s not far away or coming down the aisle, but . . . I do wanna kiss you and try this out if you’re okay with going steady,” Ladyblue asked shyly.

But I wanna kiss you now

Chat Noire beamed. “Can I kiss you now?” she asked eagerly.

Oh . . .

Ladyblue giggled and nodded.

And kiss you

Chat Noire grinned and cupped her cheeks then connected their lips.

And kiss you

Ladyblue tasted like sweetener, and Chat Noire couldn’t get enough.

And kiss you

They broke away for air, but they could barely get some as they laughed at one another.

And kiss you

They then rested their foreheads against each other as they calmed down – goofily smiling.

And kiss you

“Is it too soon that I just want to kiss you?” Ladyblue asked in a hushed tone.

And kiss you

Chat Noire giggled. “We can do it as much as you want, milady,” she whispered.

And kiss you

Ladyblue chuckled then closed her eyes and kissed her again, which Chat Noire gleefully returned.

Till Monday

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #parrmour #six mlb au #chat noir! jane #ladybug! cathy #songfic #my writing #not my au #Jane do be impatient #somewhat OOC

10 notes · View notes

prince-of-elsinore · 3 years

Text

Yet another Headcanon Prompt for @decadent-prince from this ask! I think this is the longest one yet, lol. It was a tough one (Dean and guilt... too many options to choose from 😭) but turned out to be the perfect excuse to write a little something that's been floating around my head for a while. Thank you!!

Dean - 35. Guilt

It takes them a while to settle after defeating Chuck and saying goodbye to Jack. A while to realize, fully, that there’s no apocalypse looming on the horizon. A while for it to seep into their bones, unwind the tension in their muscles—tension that’s been there since Dad disappeared and Sammy started having visions all those years ago. Dean doesn’t understand at first why he feels so unmoored, floating through easy days of long drives or just lounging around the bunker, bracing for an impact that never comes. Then he realizes that, of course, that’s freedom.

With freedom comes questions. The halcyon days of extended vacation time morph into a new routine. They adopt Miracle, pick up hunts here and there as they come across their radar. Sam seems happy enough, but still Dean is uneasy. He’s certain by now that no cosmic being is coming for them or for the world, so why does he feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop?

It occurs to him one morning as he’s sitting at the kitchen table, munching on a piece of toast and watching Sam’s back as his brother makes him eggs, like he does every morning. What if Sam wants more than this? The toast in his stomach turns leaden.

Dean broaches the topic when Sam’s seated across from him, digging into his breakfast. He doesn’t notice that Dean’s not touching his eggs.

“You, uh, think about going back to school?” Dean asks, nonchalant.

Sam stares at him too long. Dean has to meet his eyes.

“Dean? What’s this about?”

Shit, now Sam’s all concerned, and that’s not how Dean wanted this to go.

He shrugs. “Just wonderin’. I mean, you could now, right?”

Sam toys with his fork. “Yeah… technically. I mean, there are a lot of options for online degrees these days.”

Dean’s brain stutters. “Online?”

Sam looks at him like he’s slow. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t exactly see us packing up and moving across the country somewhere just so I can be on campus, do you?”

Us. Gratitude swells through Dean like a rising tide. That other shoe he’s been waiting for disappears from his mind.

He nods, looks down at his toast because he can’t trust what will happen to his face if he keeps looking in Sam’s eyes right now. “Yeah, no, you’re right.”

They go back to eating. But Dean can’t help but push.

“Maybe you should think about it,” he says.

“Dean, I don’t even know what I’d study.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’. You should think about it.”

“Why?” Sam sounds exasperated.

Dean meets his eyes again. “Y’know. So you have a fallback. Just in case.”

Now Sam looks confused. “A fallback from hunting? In case of what—”

Sam’s expression hardens in an instant as he realizes what Dean is saying. “We’re not talking about that,” he says quietly, and returns to shoveling eggs into his mouth as if that will end the conversation once and for all.

“Maybe we ought to,” Dean presses.

“What if it were me?” Sam asks to his plate.

“What?”

“Say next hunt we go on, I die. What would you do, Dean?”

Dean goes stiff. His jaw clenches, ever fiber of his being radiating one answer: no.

Sam glances at him. “That’s what I thought.”

Dean lets it go. He finishes his breakfast, but the food curdles in his stomach. This is on him, he knows. He’s the one who can’t give up hunting. It would be easy for Sam, but not for him. He’s subjecting his brother to this, the constant worry they both push down, that they could lose the other. Hell, he might even get Sam killed, because Dean knows as long as he’s hunting Sam won’t let him do it alone. Dean would never forgive himself.

He thinks about mentioning an early retirement. He thinks about arbitrary numbers. One hundred more hunts. Five more years. Retire when I hit fifty. He knows, though, that it would just be lip service. He can’t stand to break another promise to his brother, so he doesn’t make one.

***

Months later, they’re on their way back from a hunt in Oregon. They’re only a couple hours out from the bunker, but it’s a beautiful, clear night and they’re miles from any town, so they pull over in a field and lie back on the Impala’s hood to watch the stars.

To Dean’s surprise, it’s Sam who broaches the topic.

“I used to want to get you out, you know.”

Dean doesn’t know. He’s a little lost, honestly.

“What?”

“Back at Stanford. I thought I’d become this rich, hotshot lawyer, and I’d get you out. Buy you a house, set you up with a job. Or, y’know, maybe no job, if you had too much of a record. But I’d make enough for the both of us.”

Dean feels just like he did when the vengeful spirit back in Oregon tossed him against a bookshelf. He doesn’t know what to say, because what the hell is he supposed to do with that?

It touches Dean in ways he didn’t realize were still possible. Probes at wounds he’s long since forgotten, but not in a hurtful way, exactly. Like peroxide on a cut, fizzing so you can’t ignore it, but promising healing. Even after all these years, Sam can still surprise him.

Sam continues, “Didn’t quite turn out that way, huh?” He huffs out a self-deprecating chuckle. “But that’s okay,” he says softly. He seems to struggle with himself for a moment, like he’s searching for the right words, and finally settles on, “I have what I want.”

Dean’s eyes are on the stars above them, but he barely sees them. All his focus is on Sam, his warmth, the sound of his breath, inches away where they’re leaned back on the windshield.

Dean can hear what Sam’s really saying. What he doesn’t need to put in words. I want a life with you. Dean is far too aware of how much Sam has given up to have that. His ribs ache with the knowledge, it’s so heavy.

There are a million things Dean wants to say. You deserve more. I would give you more if I could, if I had anything to offer.

Instead he says, quietly, “I don’t know how to do anything else.” It’s an apology more than an excuse.

“I know,” says Sam. “It’s okay.”

They’re silent after that. Sam meant what he said. He is okay with it, with this life. As long as Dean’s by his side. Dean’s putting them both in danger, every day they continue like this, but Sam’s willing to take that risk with him. Maybe, a long time ago, there was hope for them, of a different life, a safer life, but that time is long since passed. And Dean takes pride in what he does, in every life saved. He doesn’t know who he’d be without it, and at this point, he doesn’t care to find out.

Still, for his brother’s sake, he wishes it could be different. Sam doesn’t just deserve one thing he wants—Dean, amazingly, improbably—he deserves everything he wants. Sam has sacrificed so much, and Dean loves him so much—does Sam even know how much?—and Dean wants to give it all to Sam, everything he wants and deserves. But he can’t. He can’t change who he is for his brother, but he wishes more than anything that he could.

#spn headcanons #post 15x19 #spn ficlet #winchester brothers #dean winchester #ask meme #my ficlet #spn #musings

41 notes · View notes

starculler · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021: Day 5

Word Count: 6042 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine Ahsoka Tano, Rex, Mace Windu, Violence, Implied Torture, Fake Death, loss of limb (fingers)

Another one in by the skin of my teeth lol.

Anakin nodded at the pair of clones, red and white clad troopers from the Coruscant Guard, stationed in front of the outermost doors to the Chancellor’s suite as he strode past and inside to the office they’d always met in. The grand room, and the hall before it, looked as it always had during any of his visits: haloed in the sun’s light and filled with any number of priceless artifacts and fine, if simply constructed, furniture. And all of it painted a bright, rich red from floor to ceiling that gave way to the raised, warm gray flooring nearer the windows. He stopped before that raised section, hands fisted and trembling beneath the larger sleeves of his dark brown robe, and looked up, past the stairs and chairs and desk at its very center to the Chancellor himself, smiling placidly down at him.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” the Chancellor greeted, pleased, and it was all Anakin could do not to scream. “I wasn’t expecting you, but please come. Take a seat. I always have time for a friend.”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he said neutrally. He offered a shallow bow, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. It hurt to breathe, a vice wrapped around his chest and squeezing his lungs so painfully tight he thought he might suffocate on the spot. “We just got back from a” — horrible nightmare, he thought and only a hitch in his breath to give it away —“campaign in the Outer Rim. I thought the resupply was also a good excuse to give my Padawan and I some time to rest planetside. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

“Not at all.” Pal— The Chancellor, shook his head, smile still in place, if a little tighter when he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and said, again: “Please. Sit. How is your padawan doing? Last we spoke, you sounded quite frustrated. Understandable, of course,” he said, amiable and sympathetic. “Teenagers, especially her age, can be difficult, though I have no doubts that you’re doing your best.”

Anakin walked up the four steps to the platform and not an inch closer even as he offered a tight smile of his own. He tasted sour bile in the back of his mouth to hear the man so much as mention Ahsoka, even if he’d kept her name out of his mouth. Still, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the question and answered.

“She’s doing good, Your Excellency. I think we’ve come to understand each other a little better since the last time I was able to speak with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” said the Chancellor, sounding, to Anakin’s ears, just a fraction displeased at the news.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

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

They’d lost so many men.

Ahsoka hadn’t been able to purge that haunting sight from her since they’d hobbled back to the Resolute, victorious but silent. The bodies of men she’d slowly grown closer to lived on the backs of her eyelids, there to see every time she closed her eyes. All of them left behind like so much trash, unburied and with no time to mourn them as they hurried on to the next planet. The next battlefield. The next slaughter.

She shuddered, huddled up in a deserted corner of the ship — so deep in that she’d lost track of where exactly she’d walked — as far from everyone else as she’d been able to manage. Misery clung to her, sticking and ugly, and she knew. She knew it was worse for the men who’d lost their brothers. Their friends. So she sat alone, the tears long-dried on her cheeks, not wanting to interrupt or take up space she didn’t deserve. They weren’t her brothers, but they’d been her men for almost a year and she cared. More than she probably should.

“Hey, Snips.”

She jerked, eyes wide, not having heard her master coming down the corridor. He smiled, a wan, withering thing. Nothing at all like the usual bluster and brightness he showed off in front of everyone. She said nothing as he sat, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, in front of her. He looked so tired. Stressed. He hadn’t been the neatest or most put-together looking Jedi she’d ever met, but he’d grown slowly worse since their last trip to Coruscant.

“Hey,” she said, voice duller than she’d meant it to be.

“How’re you holding up?” She considered the question. Considered lying, but…

“Not… not great.” Anakin hummed, but didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare look at him as she spoke, not wanting to see how he felt about what she admitted. “I just— I don’t know—” She hooked her fingers into the thick, white fabric of her leggings and pulled her legs in closer. “I wanted to be a Jedi so bad.” She hated how she choked on the words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I still do, really. But. But there’s just so much—

“It’s awful,” she whispered and startled when an arm settled over her shoulder and pulled so she was pressed tight to her master’s side. Wrapped up in her roiling emotions as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed him move. She sniffled, turning to hide her face in his dark tunic. “There’s so much death, master. So much pain. I feel it all the time and I. I don’t know how to—”

The words died in her throat, smothered by an awful sob half-muffled by her master’s warmth. He rubbed her shoulder as she cried, pulled in as close as either could physically manage.

“How do you do it, Master,” she croaked once she’d mostly calmed. “How do you not care so hard?” She felt him still next to her, almost a flinch. Before she could apologize, take the words and this moment back and flee to her room, he answered, his own voice low and soft. Gentle.

“You never stop, Snips. You just … learn. You put it aside when you’re needed, and work through it when you’re not.” He sighed. “I’m not— Well. You know I’m not always great with my emotions, not like Obi-Wan or some of the other Masters.” She nodded in the lull, waiting for him to gather himself. “But the worst of it, the parts that’d only hurt you or the men to see? I keep it locked in a little box with an old fashioned lock and key, stashed away until I have time to meditate or process or even just when I work on a ship or droid.

“Every time we come back from a campaign and I count how many we’ve lost, I feel it so hard I think I’ll never breathe again. Usually, I’ll rely on Obi-Wan if it’s bad enough and he knows he can lean on me if he needs it. You, my young Padawan, can come to me any time you need to,” he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime. Any reason. Even if it’s just to sit quietly together.”

Ahsoka nodded, not feeling better but not quite as alone either.

“Can we meditate?” She asked, voice trembling and tiny.

“Of course,” he said. Neither of them moved, not just yet.

“Hey Skyguy?” Anakin hummed a response. “You can count on me too, if you want.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she saw his other hand twitch from the corner of her eyes — a brief motion, there and done.

“I know,” he murmured, so quietly a human wouldn’t have heard him even though her montrals picked the words up easily. “I know.”

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

Anakin sucked in a deep, bracing breath, willing himself to be still and patient for just a little longer despite how every second he stood there only fueled the pit of anger coiled tightly in his gut. It had been easier, on the Resolute — in space and among his men where he didn’t have to look at the face of a man who’d lied to him for as long as they’d known each other. A man he’d defended against criticism and let whisper in his ear. A man he’d let slowly poison him from the inside until the rot had settled deep in the core of him, a permanent fixture he looked upon with shame and regret. And anger.

“I’m afraid I haven’t come just to visit an old friend, though.” His voice, miraculously, didn’t so much as waver, the words flowing as smoothly from him as they never had.

The Chancellor’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment — so quick he almost thought he’d misinterpreted it, a trick of the light and nothing more — before he spoke, his tone even and jovial. “And what can I do to help you then, Anakin? Or have you come as Knight Skywalker? On behalf of the Jedi, perhaps,” he said, not a question. Anakin shook his head in answer regardless.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Jedi, Chancellor, but I am here as a Knight of the Order though I act alone.” He swallowed and carefully, slowly, reached down to his belt where his lightsaber hung, singing to him so faintly at that moment that it could have been miles away. The Chancellor didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, as he pulled the cool, metal casing from its clip and held it, unlit, in the palm of his flesh hand.

“What have you come here for, Knight Skywalker?”

A chill seemed to settle in the air between them that set every nerve in Anakin’s body aflame, alive and electric through his limbs so that he felt even the faint, phantom pain in his prosthetic. He curled his mechanical fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them for a few tense seconds the way he sometimes did before battle, when he worried that very pain might get in the way and cost more of his men their lives. His shoulders strained with the tension creeping into him, and he struggled to keep let it go.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I accuse you of being a Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic.”

The Chancellor laughed like Anakin had told a particularly funny joke, and said: “My boy, I am an old man who has dedicated his life, and a decade already as Chancellor, to the betterment of the Republic. How could I possibly be a-a Sith?” He asked, just the right amount of incredulity saturating the question. “I fear, my boy, that you are tired — this war has taken its toll on us all, and with you needed so often on the front and so firmly in the thick of the worst of it. Well, it hurts, but I’m unsurprised to find even a young man as impressive as you, my friend, might be swayed by this cruel joke under the circumstances.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Anakin snarled, finally losing the firm grip he’d kept on his anger. “I saw you.” The man stilled, thin lips pressed together in a grim line as he sat back in his chair too peer at Anakin like he were a bug. “I saw you,” he said again, breathing heavily, almost panting. “In your office, your private office, just before the 501st shipped out last time. Talking to Dooku.” He spat the name like a curse, filthier than any other word in his vocabulary.

“My boy, whatever you thought you saw—”

“He called you Sidious. He called you Master.” He bared his teeth at the man who’d been his friend, white-knuckled grip on his saber’s hilt tightening almost painfully. “You’ve betrayed the Republic.

“I am the Republic!” Anakin staggered when The Chancellor’s eyes flashed, bright yellow instead of deep brown.

“You’re a traitor,” Anakin bellowed back, finally igniting his lightsaber at his side. “You’ll turn yourself in, or I’ll bring you in myself. It’s my duty as a Jedi,” he said, not at all the confident declaration he’d meant it to be.

“Just as it was your duty to — what was it again? Eschew attachments?” Anakin flinched, but grit his teeth, determined. “My boy, Anakin, please see reason.”

“Reason? What reason? You’re-you’re a Sith!” He widened his stance as the Chancellor finally stood up from behind the desk, leaning forward on his hands against its smooth surface. His gaze burned into Anakin’s, boring in with such intensity he feared the man saw right down to the deepest, most vulnerable parts of him no matter how hard Anakin might try to keep him out. “You were my friend,” he said, nearly a whisper and not at all what he’d meant to.

“I still am.” The Chancellor smiled, but Anakin felt none of the warmth from it that he used to. “I can help you, Anakin. I can help you keep your loved ones safe in these awful times. I can give you the power to keep them safe with your own two hands. Power the Jedi could only dream of.” He paused, eyes gleaming bright and greedy as he said: “I could give you the galaxy.”

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

Rex watched his general putter about the camp, looking more a mess than usual. He seemed not unlike a droid, his every move mechanically rote as he went about his tasks and his gaze distant in that way Rex sometimes saw on shell shocked shinies. He pursed his lips, grip on his bucket tightening a fraction. Their last campaign had been rough: heavy losses and a victory won by the skin of their teeth. He’d seen how it had left the Commander, much as Ahsoka had tried to hide it, and the next one was gearing up to be just as bad or worse if the 212th were held up.

General Skywalker, however, had been worrying him since long before. He didn’t know how much his general thought he was fooling Rex — and it rankled that he might have if not for little moments like this — but he wouldn’t fool anyone if this went on much longer. He’d heard troopers talking, spotting Skywalker up at all hours of the night, amiable enough but also mumbling to himself when he thought no one would see. Rex had done his best to keep the worst of it under wraps: making up reasons for the general’s wandering, erasing the occasional unauthorized flight on his personal junker of a ship, filling in reports that skipped his notice or forging them altogether.

What he couldn’t hide, Rex waved away as a symptom of how busy Jedi generals were in general. Easy to do when the only ones to work consistently closely with them were the Commanders — and Rex, considering he filled the role for the 501st.

He’d considered telling Cody at the very least, if not General Kenobi himself, but he’d put it off. Every time he came across evidence that something was wrong, he’d brushed it off. At first with assurances that the general was just stressed. That he’d course correct on his own and all would go back to how it had been. When it worsened, Rex had asked his general directly, needing to know if whatever had happened would affect his performance — if it would put men’s lives in danger.

Anakin had looked him in the eyes that day and promised he had it handled.

Whatever “it” was.

Rex trusted his general with his life. With his brothers’ lives. So it hurt, a physical pain in his chest, to know his general didn’t trust him enough to let him help. For his general — his friend — he’d do anything, even if it got him decommissioned. Had already, to some extent.

“Captain,” a shiny said, prying his attention away from Skywalker and back to the bustle of setting up camp. “Commander Cody’s on the line for you.”

Rex nodded and shoved his bucket back on his head. He spared one last glance at his general before following the trooper back to the hastily put together command tent, wondering all the way there if this was a sign for him to speak up.

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

Anakin swallowed, mouth dry as the desert planet he’d been born on. The part of him that would always be nine and scared, then nineteen and mourning, found the offer compelling. Power to keep everyone safe: Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex and his men. To have the galaxy fall in line so wars like this one never came about again. To break the chains keeping sentients fettered, abused and terrified. To do what he wanted without the constraints the Jedi imposed upon him and all their members. It appealed so well to that not-insignificant part of him that hated his own fear and weakness and the uncertainty of the future.

It scared him, how enticing the offer was and how tempted he was to forsake everything he knew and everything he’d been taught in exchange for that promise. All that held him back was the single, nagging feeling itching at the back of his skull. He probed at it, poking at what lay below the desire and fear until he found th rest of him — the parts the darkness didn’t call to so strongly.

The parts of him molded by the people he loved, nurtured by what he’d been taught at the Jedi’s feet, and built on the foundations his Mom had laid down for him in his childhood. The parts that whispered to him to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember that nothing so golden, so perfect, came without a cost.

What was the price to be paid for the Chancellor’s offer?

What would he lose in exchange?

Everything, that tiny part of him whispered.

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

Obi-Wan smiled at Ahsoka as she skipped back towards her and Anakin’s troops, all of them nearly finished with the necessary preparations needed to leave this Force-forsaken planet. He watched the troops mingle, chatting and catching up as much as they could. Even his commander had loosened up in the afermath of a hard-won battle, leaned against a crate of supplies as he spoke with Rex.

The only person he hadn’t been able to find in the organized chaos had been his former padawan.

Anakin seemed to have disappeared entirely, not a trace of him anywhere which seemed odd to him. He turned toward Rex and Cody, intent on asking where he might find the wayward knight, only to slow and then stop altogether when he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—know. But it’s … something.” Rex frowned, hands balled into tight fists at his side. Cody sighed.

“If he’s breaking regs,” Cody said archly, but didn’t finish the thought. Rex, in Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, looked rather much like he wanted to punch the other man.

“I’m not turning him in,” Rex hissed, low enough that Obi-Wan had to strain to hear him. “The general’s just … he’s in a bad way right now and I don’t know how to kriffing help if he won’t let me.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, drawing back before he heard Cody’s response. He hadn’t known Anakin had been doing poorly, though in what capacity he wasn’t yet sure. He’d hardly spoken to Anakin at all the last few months, busy as they’d both been. Still, if the captain was so worried, enough to bring it to Cody, then. Well.

He made a mental note to himself to check in on his former padawan. He knew the 501st were due for leave soon, a quick resupply over Coruscant that would give Anakin and Ahsoka both time to visit the Temple. Perhaps after, he’d make the call, or better yet: find some time to get their two battalions together outside of battle.

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

He breathed out, a single slow, measured breath, and set his jaw. When he looked at the Chancellor — at Sidious — his choice had been made. Sidious scowled even before Anakin spoke, wrinkled and severe and not a hint at all of the man he had trusted.

“No.” He brought his saber up into Djem So’s opening stance. “I am a Jedi, and I’ll do what I must.”

“So it’s treason, then,” Sidious sneered, pulling a lightsaber of his own from his robes. Anakin felt the last dregs of his hope drain when the blade lit, its blood-red light casting Sidious’ face into eerie relief as the lights in the room grew suddenly dim.

Anakin nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. He breathed in, taking a brief moment to steel himself as the room’s tension and chill grew bloated and oppressive. For a moment neither of them moved. Coruscant itself seemed to freeze, from every sentient on-planet to its very rotation in space. And then, all at once, life exploded back into action.

Sidious leaped out from behind his desk at the same time Anakin surged forward. Their lightsabers scraped each other mid-air, the barest, buzzing touch as he kept that ominous, red blade from slicing at his shoulder. He spun quickly on his heel to meet Sidious’ offensive attack from behind. Their sabers clashed, properly locked and spitting as each of them tried to over-power the other.

He threw the entirety of his weight into every attack, pressing forward and pushing Sidious back. But nothing landed. Anakin growled, moving faster. Pushing. Pressing. But nothing. Fucking. Landed. Sidious whirled, inelegant but effective. Power bolstered by experience and skill. Every slash blocked. Every thrust parried. Every move economical and calculated and a near perfect counter to Anakin’s own aggressive style.

“You have such potential,” Sidious crooned at him, their sabers locked once again, the energy buzzing and crackling loudly in Anakin’s ears. “You could be so much more than you are, my boy.”

Anakin dug his heels in the carpet and pushed, shoving as much of the Force as he could into it even as the effort left his gasping for breath. Gasping, but victorious when it at least shut the Sith up and sent him sailing across the room if not into the wall like he’d wanted. He grinned at Sidious’ responding glower and merely adjusted his grip on his lightsaber with a shrug. Taunting Dooku’s master as much as he dared.

“Join me, Anakin,” Sidious said, unmoving from where he’d landed and looking somehow unbothered behind the anger radiating from him. “Join me and cease this foolishness.”

“Never,” he hissed, and leaped forward with help from the Force.

They clashed. Separated. Clashed again. Neither gained ground, even as Anakin found himself tiring, slowly but surely. He winced when a glancing blow caught his arm, searing and slicing a neat, shallow line from elbow to shoulder. Anakin managed a nastier slash at the Sith’s legs, and nearly laughed when he caught Sidious’ ankle as he leaped and watched him stagger on the landing.

Fury, thick and startling and like nothing Anakin had felt before even on the front lines, oozed from Sidious then. Anakin, sweating and exhausted, stilled. Tense and suddenly nervous. Something slick and malicious wrapped around his throat, and before he’d even registered that it was the Force — Sidious using the Force — it squeezed, cinched closed and cutting off his air.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Sidious said, sincerity dripping like poison from his words. “I had a plan, you see. A place for you at my side, and. Well, it might be earlier than I’d hoped, but I’m nothing if not accommodating. Don’t you agree?”

“Shut.” Anakin gagged, the invisble vice squeezing ever tighter as the seconds ticked past. “Up.” He fumbled for the Force as dark spots dotted his vision, but felt it slip through his fingers like sand. “Sith.”

Sidious hummed, paced calmly closer to Anakin like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Those were clone troopers out front, and Anakin had paid a slicer more than enough credits in his attempts to gather evidence against Sidious for at least the vague confirmation that they, specifically, could be controlled. He had no doubts, now, that Sidious, among those involved in this conspiracy, could and would do just that.

The Force squeezed a fraction harder — any more and his neck would snap — before easing, just enough for him to gasp, coughing and spluttering as fresh air returned to his burning lungs. He fell to his hands and knees, blinking back tears and the graying haze that had crept into his vision. He barely noticed when Sidious stopped in front of him and bent to pick his lightsaber up off the ground where he didn’t remember dropping it.

“What a tragedy,” Sidious said, laying a withered hand on Anakin’s head like a child needing comfort. He would have tried to bite the old man’s fingers off if he hadn’t still been struggling to catch his breath, just enough pressure still on his throat to keep him from fully recovering. “The disappearance of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear who tried so hard to defend the Republic’s beloved Chancellor from the Separatist assassin, Ventress. Who took off in pursuit when she fled, without backup despite the Chancellor’s pleas — always a hothead, that one.”

“Shut up,” Anakin croaked, pain straining his voice. The hand in his hair tightened, not painfully. Not yet. A warning to keep silent — a warning to be ignored as soon as he could fucking breath again.

“What a shame,” Sidious continued, “how the young man was caught unawares.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped, fear like ice crawling through his veins as the meaning behind Sidious’ monologue finally started to register. He moved and the pressure on his throat worsened in response. He shouldn’t have come. The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have told someone. Should have tried harder to gather evidence against the Chancellor, even though he’d lost sleep over it for months — trying and failing and trying again only to come up empty-handed every time. Sdious was smart and his plan had been in motion probably for longer than Anakin had been alive.

Even if they’d never believe him, he should have told someone.

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

“Padmé.” Anakin said her name like it was the sun itself and he a man without its light all his life.

She smiled, held his face between the palms of her hands, and pulled him down into one of the softest, gentlest kisses they’d shared since the war had started. He practically melted against her, boneless if not quite relaxed. She pulled back first, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she studied his face. He hadn’t looked great the last time they’d talked over a holo, but now he looked worse.

The bags under his eyes were deep, dark smudges that looked like bruises in the dim light of her apartment. He looked drawn, paler than a man on the front lines more often than not should be, with dry, chapped lips and a gauntness to him that might have been as much a trick of the light as the early signs that he’d not been eating well. His hands trembled against her waist, a fine tremor she felt through the thin nightdress he’d caught her in. She hadn’t expected him to come by, not so late at night and certainly not looking half-dead.

“Anakin, what’s wrong? Should I call a healer?” she asked, smoothing a thumb over his lips, his cheek, under his eye. He shook his head, turning so he could kiss her palm. He ran so warm normally that it scared her to feel him so cold. Like death, she thought and it sent a foreboding thrill down her spine.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his bright, blue eyes never leaving hers. She’d have found it romantic if not for how much it scared her just then.

“You’re scaring me, Anakin. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He lifted one hand told hold hers, the same one he’d kissed, and brushed his lips over her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again and Padmé thought she might cry from how wretched he sounded. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Don’t go to work. Stay here.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“Anakin, I can’t just— just skip. There’s an important bill we’re trying to pass and if I’m not there—” He squeezed her hand, not painfully but not gently either, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Anakin?” She moved to touch his face again, but he drew back. She gasped, a quiet, hurt noise pulled from her lips.

“Just tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. Scared. “Just tomorrow, please Angel. Please.” She swallowed, wide eyed and trembling now herself, but nodded.

“Alright. Alright, I promise, but only if you tell me what’s going on. Okay?” He hesitated, but acquiesced.

“After,” he said and she said nothing else before pulling him to bed by the hand.

He curled up beside her, pressed as close as physically possible with his head pressed to her breast as she kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand through his unruly hair. She didn’t know how long they laid there, silent but awake before sleep claimed her. When she woke, he was gone and the place in her bed where he’d lain had gone cold. In his place were a note and a datastick.

I’m Sorry, the note read, written in his slanted, messy cursive. Padmé felt tears prick at her eyes, something thick and awful and nauseating curling in her stomach as she picked the datastick up and moved to plug it into the datapad she kept on her nightstand.

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

He closed his eyes, let the pang of regret flow down and into him, then, finally, out. It came so suddenly easy, feeling what he needed before letting go, that he wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. All his time as a Jedi he’d struggled, and he chose this moment to finally embrace — understand — what it was they’d been trying to teach him all along.

“Get to the point,” he said, trying to sound brave and not like he could fall apart at any second. The hand in his hair pulled, jerked his head up so he could look at those ugly, Sith eyes and Sidious’ grotesque grin. He’d spit if he could, but the Force tightened on his throat like Sidious had plucked the thought from his mind.

“The point,” the Sith hissed, “is that I will not waste the years I spent molding my perfect Apprentice.” Sidious crooned the word like it should mean more to Anakin. Like it shouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. “There is a place for you at my side, boy, whether you are there willingly or not.”

Sidious let him go, so suddenly he nearly fell on his face. Anakin blinked, confused as he pushed himself up, and caught the edge of that same, awful grin. Saw Sidious raise a hand, fingers splayed and pointing at him, and then nothing at all as he crackle of electricity and his own screaming filled the room.

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

Mace’s head throbbed, the same pounding pain that had lingered in his temples for months now. A shatterpoint, he knew, but any specific knowledge about it had remained firmly out of reach. Regardless of his headache — he’d had long years of practice managing it — he strolled into the Council’s Chambers, calm as a Jedi Master should be despite the urgency of the emergency meeting called. Problems, it seemed, just loved to pile up. First, an attack on the Chancellor in his own office the week before, then the disappearance of Knight Skywalker, and now whatever new event had cropped up.

He sighed, taking his seat among the mix of present Councilors. All of them, he was surprised to note, though most had called in via holo. Once he’d been seated, the room quieted and every eye turned to Master Yoda who’d called them together. The old troll’s face looked grim, his ears drooped as he all but hunched over his gimmer stick. Slick, icy dread slithered down Mace’s spine, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever the old Master had to say.

“Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s voice, mildly tinny over the holo, broke the silence when Master Yoda failed to speak up. The old Master seemed to wilt even further.

“Received a recording, we did, from Dooku.” Every Jedi in the room jerked, though none looked more than serenly alarmed at the news. “A datapad, he sent, early this morning. And another a gift.” Yoda’s voice wavered on the last word, just enough to be noticeable.

“May we see the device?” Plo Koon tipped his head to one side as he asked the question, a request made more for Yoda’s benefit than because any of them had any real need to see Dooku’s message for themselves.

Yoda shook his head and said: “With the investiators, it is. Work, they will, to see if a trick this is not. Deceiving us, Dooku may be.”

“Deceiving us?” Master Kolar leaned forward in his seat, a frown marring his features. Master Yoda nodded.

“Bring news, he does, of our missing knight.” Mace saw Kenobi jolt at the statement, wide-eyed. His fellow councilor had been devastated at the news of his former padawan’s disappearance. A few of the other Master’s spared Kenobi a sympathetic glance, before returning their attention to Master Yoda. “Claim, he does, that Knight Skywalker’s death his assassin, Ventress, is responsible for. Chased, he says she was, after thwarting an attempt on the Chancellor by young Skywalker she was.”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started, voice strangled. Mace frowned, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers as he closed his eyes. “Anakin has fought Ventress many times, and come out unscathed before. To claim she killed him…” he trailed off.

“A gift, Dooku sent as well,” Yoda reminded.

The earlier chill in Mace’s spine solidified into a pit behind his stomach, a near physical weight as he said, low and pained: “Proof.”

The room was silent. Still. Their combined dread and anticipation thickened the air until it grew hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

Mace opened his eyes. He looked first to Obi-Wan, lips thinned but otherwise wearing a perfectly blank mask, and then to Master Yoda’s own grief-stricken face.

“His prosthetic and saber I have kept here to show you, but the rest. To the Healers for tests it has gone.”

“Healers?” Obi-Wan’s blank facade cracked. Mace was sure Obi-Wan’s face would have been pale as a sheet if not for the blue-tint of he holo-image projected onto his chair. Yoda said nothing for a long time, though Mace didn’t know if it was reluctance or grief that stalled him. “Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Mace felt sympathetic tears prick at his eyes for all the grief he could hear in that word alone. “Please.”

“Fingers,” Yoda said, grave and bland and disgusted. “Knight Skywalker’s, the Healers confirmed not long ago.”

Mace heard a few of the Masters’ gasp, and Obi-Wan’s own strangled, horrified noise, but Mace kept silent. Let his eyes slip closed once more, and bowed his head as a wave of bitter grief swept over him.

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

Anakin never woke for long, but when he did there were always two constants: pain and Sidious.

And hope. Always hope.

That Padmé had read what he’d left on the datastick — not enough but a start, and she’d always been so much smarter than him — and forgave him for the lie. For leaving.

Hope that Sidious would choke on his food and die, even if it meant Anakin rotted away in this cell.

Hope that the apologies he’d written to Ahsoka, Rex, and Obi-Wan made it to them, even if he hadn’t included half as much information in them as he had in his Angel’s.

And hope that maybe, one day, he might be saved. That Sidious’ attempt to deceive everyone would, at least this once, fail.

“How much longer will you remain disobedient, my Apprentice,” Sidious said as he slipped into the cell. Anakin closed his eyes for only a brief moment before turning a glare on his captor.

“Dunno,” he croaked, “how much longer ‘r you gonna live?”

Sidious hissed and repaid him with a blast of lightning in response.

Anakin screamed.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayal #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #fic #violence #implied torture #fake death #loss of limbs #my fanfic #the only limbs lost are fingers and it's only mentioned not shown

8 notes · View notes

twistedsinews · 3 years

Note

Hey! You're probably tired of seeing me in your questions box but here my request anyway LOL : 193. “Come on, this doesn’t even make it into the top 10 of stupid things I’ve done. You’re completely overreacting.” mucho love <3

[nooooo, if I didn’t love prompts I wouldn’t reblog prompt lists. you’re fine! <3]

Cyberpunk 2077; Jackie/V; PG-13

It calmed him down. A little. But she was still trapped in the server room and he was still on edge and they still had a handful of minutes at best before someone came to investigate why the mainframe they'd just sabotaged was down.

"You're makin' some of these up."

"Am not."

"Alright, make it easy: give me one thing dumber'n this, since I met you."

V could name half a dozen without putting any effort into it, and she was pretty sure Jackie could, too. The plan part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. It was merely the escape part of the plan she hadn't thought fully through.

"Falling in love."

Kinda like the words that were out of her mouth before she realized it.

There was a poignant silence on the the line to tell her how badly she'd fucked up, and when Jackie did finally answer his voice was low. Flat.

"You think it's dumb, huh?"

"I didn't mean like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I-..."

"Never mind."

"Jackie, I'm not saying-..."

"Not the time for this conversation right now, V."

And he was right.

V closed her eyes.

The security doors were linked into the mainframe. Backup power was down, but this wasn't a matter of backup power. Because linking through the mainframe would mean cutting through any time there was so much as a hiccup in the system.

Hunching down to better see, V followed the path of the lines wired into the databanks through the darkened room. Near where they disappeared into the angle of floor and wall, her fingers brushed over a smooth, seemingly out of place indented square in the steel paneling. A smaller hidden rectangle slid out easily, giving her a manual release for the hatch beneath her fingertips.

It was as good a lead as any, and she dropped through the floor into the crawlspace beneath.

"I found some kind of a maintenance duct," she told Jackie, twisting a bit under the cramped space to slide the hatch closed above her. "See if you can figure out where it comes through on the other side."

"Yeah, sure. On it."

Directly in front of her, she found a wall. It took some flailing to get herself back around, but V nevertheless managed, and started crawling down the passage.

"Got it."

There was a sound up ahead of scraping metal. Turning a corner, there was a dim flash of moving light in the distance. Once she reached the end, she found Jackie waiting for her.

"See?" she huffed, taking the hand he offered to help drag her out of the gap in the floor. "An oversight, not the end of the world."

Jackie grunted an acknowledgement, which settled poorly with the icy chill of silence in her chest. He let go only to push her right along in front of him, and she took the hint. The way out was the way they came, up a flight of stairs out of the basement, through some hallways, and out an intricate lobby.

As they made their way down the main hallway, there came the rustle of movement. Killing her light and trusting Jackie to do the same, V spun right back around, grabbing for his jacket to haul him back again and into an adjoining hall. Tension radiated off him as Jackie pressed close to the wall behind her; his arm settled on her shoulder, less for reassurance and more ready to throw her back if things lit up any more dramatically than a few heavy flashlights. They crouched in the darkness, waiting for the security detail - headed by one computer scientist, frustrated it seemed to the point of negligence in his surroundings - to pass them by; the hired corpo soldiers scurried along behind him, no doubt equally frustrated by the clip at which he was walking straight into the unknown.

And then the light was gone, and the clomp of heavy boots faded into the distance.

V inched forward to peer around the corner, then stepped out into the dark. Jackie bumped into her, and she froze, but he nudged her onward. With security now behind them, they managed a much faster pace, and escaped out of the back rooms and through the moonlit lobby without incident.

On the street again, they fell into the crowd. A couple of blocks up and one across, they caught the line with seconds to spare, paid the fare in cash, and even snagged the last empty seat in the row.

And sharing would never have been an issue, except for the stifling rift she'd caused.

Jackie made no complaint when she settled in his lap, but other than bracing her when they got underway, he kept his hands to himself. After a mile or two of distance, she got to her feet and opted to stand in the aisle instead. Gripping one of the lines overhead, she put all her weight on it and twisted in space.

A man slipped off one of the nearer seats, and didn't seem bothered when someone immediately claimed it after him. He stepped up behind her, near enough to touch but didn't, and she stood a little straighter.

"If he can't do it for you," a smooth, unfamiliar voice reasoned over her shoulder, "maybe I can."

"Yeah, maybe you could," V mumbled in vague agreement, without any of the enthusiasm she'd have found in flirting. Still, proximity and his touch on her arm at her answer gave her an excuse to fleece his pockets. She froze as her fingers found a plate of metal, and traced the bumps on its face. "And maybe again, not."

The man gave a gruff little hmmph at her drab dismissal, and drew his hand away. Keeping her hand low, V flashed the badge behind her. Under the notice of the plainclothes dick she hoped was cruising for an easy pickup and not taking note of two mercs that were hardly out of place in taking the public transit.

Regardless of which, she opted for a quick exit at the next stop, feeling her confidence ebb back when Jackie fell in behind her. He stopped her from flashing the badge again, this time at the very cop she'd stolen it from, snatching it from her before the man could see it.

Once they'd stepped off again, Jackie whipped his hand and the badge skittered away down the sidewalk.

They made it down another block and halfway through the next alley.

With a huff, V stepped in front of him, causing Jackie to stop short of walking into her, only to jostle her all the same.

He blinked down at her.

"I wasn't saying you're stupid."

"Didn't think you were."

"And I wasn't saying loving you was stupid."

Jackie didn't answer right away, which formed something of an answer all unto itself.

"It's cool, V. I'm over it."

Squaring her shoulders, V raised her chin as she studied his face.

"Liar."

Jackie hissed sharply. Clenching his jaw, he bared his teeth in a thin grimace of distaste.

"Digging yourself deeper, chica."

Brushing past her, he kept walking.

V stood rooted to the spot.

When he noticed she wasn't following him, Jackie turned back around and stalled. He sighed heavily, and came right back. His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and familiar. Some of the tension eased out of her shoulders, and V shoved her hands into her pockets.

"Mira..." Jackie said, only he didn't seem to know what else to say. Whatever was in his head, he went with, "You go home and get some rest. I'll go and collect our pay. I'll catch up with you in the morning."

Her heart sank.

"Yeah," V agreed listlessly. "Alright. Great."

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, leaving her with only the shadow of his smile.

It helped. And... it didn't.

"Hasta mañana."

This time, Jackie didn't look back. Just disappeared into the next street.

V took one step and stopped again.

She didn't even know where the hell she was.

With a sigh, she scratched her eyebrow and pulled up her geodata. Then, once she had a read, she started on again. And each step felt heavier than the last.

***

Jackie parked his bike near as he could to V's car out of mindless habit, but it was a flash of color huddled in the backseat seized his attention.

It wasn't where he was expecting to find her, though not unheard of, and he knocked on the window anyway. She stirred, squinted up at him over her shoulder, then twisted to reach the lock, followed by the latch. Jackie stepped back as the door swung open under her weight, not anticipating for her to pour out on the floor of the parking garage like she did.

Grabbing the top of the door, two seconds too late, he winced in sympathy.

"How's that first taste of concrete, first thing in the morning, eh?"

V flipped him off.

A sign of life if ever he'd seen one.

Jackie clasped one hand firmly around her wrist. Reaching down, he got the other into a hold on her jacket to lift her entirely off the ground, and set her onto her feet.

She combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, scrubbed her sleeve across her face, and regarded him with a dull, guarded expression that slipped a little near the corner of her mouth. Her eyes remained narrow, more to do with her hangover than anything.

Jackie smiled. And he meant it.

V's expression slipped a little further. Losing ground, she turned and stalked away.

He fell in step beside her, keenly aware that it was her money sitting in his pocket.

Among other things he was feeling overly aware of.

V survived the elevator on her own two feet. She only opted to stop once, leaning over the low terrace wall in whatever solemn post-drunk contemplation it was she fancied this morning, and tolerated him rubbing a hand down her back before finally moving on.

They made it back to her apartment at last. V immediately went for the sink; the mirror flickered on, and she turned on the water to scrub her face clean.

Jackie hung back, leaning into the wall as he watched her. Trapped between feeling out the situation, and getting lost right down the subtlest play of the muscles under her skin and the patterns adorning her shoulders.

"Last night I was thinking..." V told his reflection. "How far a full tank would get me, and I thought about three hundred miles. Not very far, really."

Jackie didn't answer. He didn't know what to answer. Luckily, he apparently didn't need to answer, as she continued, "So I thought... maybe if I loaded up six or seven tanks, still have room for supplies, and I could get maybe a couple of thousand. Still not far enough to get to the East Coast."

Ah.

Words.

Something would probably have been more appropriate than nothing right about then, but he still couldn't think of any, and careless words got them here in the first place. Moreover, he was just smart enough to know better than to speak just because.

"I thought about it for maybe two minutes total," V admitted, without his input. "But it wouldn't make a difference, would it? No matter how far I could go, it doesn't change how anything feels."

Dipping her hand under the faucet, V combed the water through her hair. Droplets caught between strands, and spattered on her ink.

"How come it's so much easier being your choom than it is being your output?"

"I don't know..." Jackie had never really thought about it, certainly never saw it that way. "Maybe 'cause you're thinking of it as two separate things, when really it's somewhere in between." Her eyes narrowed as she mulled it over, and Jackie shrugged. "Just my take on it, though."

The mirror flickered off, and he pulled back out of her way as she moved to step out of the sink cubby. She breezed past him, and started picking through the cans on her desk. Several empty ones went right under it, until she found an unopened one, which she cracked open for a long drink, abandoning the rest.

"But come on, really; it's not that bad," Jackie argued. "I think... if a couple of dumb words is all that ever gets to us once in a while, we're doing okay. Better than, I'd say."

V stared at him over the rim of the sodacan.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she stated.

Jackie blinked.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know that, too."

V sighed. Still eyeing him, she took another sip, and, wandering over to the bed, dropped down, leaning her back against the outer wall.

"It was a stupid joke at my own expense, okay? Falling in love wasn't part of my plan for when I got here."

Jackie scoffed.

"Implying you had a plan when you landed in N.C." he reminded her, easing down across from her to lean against the inner wall. "Which as I recall, was not the case. Not at all."

"Okay, but I wasn't even thinking of it as a distant possibility. I sure as fuck wasn't expecting to trip and fall into your arms and for it to be all..." She waved her drink around in a vague pattern, encompassing the all of it. "Isn't that stupid?"

"Love ain't stupid, chica. Never is."

V stared at him. Jackie stared right back, until at length he glanced off, and her gaze fell to the tab of her drink as she toyed with it.

Finally, draining the can, she set it down on the floor. She kicked off her shoes, followed by rolling off her socks, and drew her legs up loosely onto the bed in front of her.

"...if it could have been anyone," she murmured, "I'm glad it was you."

Jackie smiled. Then he chuckled.

"And you know what?" He admitted, "you weren't part of my plan, either. You fell right into my lap out of fucking nowhere, and I didn't have the first idea of what to do with that..."

As V listened quietly, her expression grew quizzical, until she shot him a very particular stare.

"...okay, you're right. You're right," Jackie amended, "I had the first idea what I wanted to do with that, but maybe not the whole thing." Sighing, he continued, "But really. I wanted to be the best out there. And I wanted to do it all alone, to prove that I could. Falling in love, tch - yeah, someday, definitely. But having a partner? Wasn't even on my mind. Not until you came along. Now I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Not even for what you want most in the world?"

"No. Wanna know why? 'Cause you're part of everything I want most in the world."

V pressed her lips together.

Then huffed a small, shaky little breath.

She reached into her pocket to dig out her knife, opening it with a soft click. As he watched her, she wound her braid around her fingers, and pulled it taut. Closing her eyes, she cut it free in one concerted, jagged little effort.

Jackie found himself at no less of a loss when she crossed the bed and inched up to his side. Reaching for his hand, she wound the braid around his wrist and fastened the ends together under the small clasp.

He glanced from the new splash of color encircling his wrist, and back to V as she closed the knife and set it on the shelf overhead. She combed her fingers through her hair, threading out the form of another braid. Jackie brushed his fingers through the loose strands on the other side, and her movements slowed. Biting her lip, she reached for his hands, one after the other, guiding him to help her weave the braid together.

"This ain't some kind of Nomad marriage thing, is it?" Jackie teased, "'Cause I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet."

"No... I'm making it up as I go along."

"Oh."

At length, the braid reached a point that he had to let her take care of the rest. Holding the end in her mouth, she tugged free several loose threads from a tear in her jeans to tie it off with.

Jackie grazed her cheek with his thumb, and she grabbed his hand, holding it there for several long moments. There was a sound in her throat, a softened lilt like it could have been a question that didn't quite form.

"V?"

"...are we okay?"

With a glance to the window, Jackie shrugged.

"We're fine, V. You don't have to go riding off into the desert or to the East Coast or off to Mars or someplace lookin' for some kind of absolution." After a thought, and he added, "And while we're on the subject, you don't need to go around tripping over yourself thinking how you got to make me feel better about gonk-brained shit when it happens. I'm tough. I'll survive." And after another, "Ay, I almost forgot, but I got your money."

With his free hand, he found the roll of eddies that were stuffed in his inside jacket pocket, and offered it to her. She snatched it from his hand, and it went...

...somewhere.

Flying into the laundry basket, he was pretty certain.

But he had other things to think of right then than money that wasn't his, like how soft her mouth was, and how she tasted like artificial kumquat-flavored corn syrup. How soon enough, he wouldn't be thinking of much at all, and if he played his deck right, neither would V.

#heywoodvirgin #cyberpunk 2077 #jackie welles #nomad!v #fanfiction #i have no idea where this came from or why it went in that direction #please take it from me #prompts and answers #thank! <3

9 notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 4 years

Text

the box | katsuki bakugou

Maze Runner AU

a/n: first installment in the maze runner au series i’m doing! hope you guys enjoy. i should totally be writing requests im sorry lol.

summary: coming up in the box was new for you. when a broad-shoulder-blonde with an explosive attitude greets you as soon as you come up in ‘the box’ what will happen?

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, angst

wordcount: 1.3k

»»————-　★　————-««

The sound of metal screeching and scratching among itself was setting off alarms in your head. The bright flashing lights of whatever you were in was giving you a headache unlike any other.

“Help! Help me!” You screamed as you clung to the side of the elevator? You wanted it to all be over. You just wanted out of this cage. What the hell was happening? And why couldn’t you remember a damn thing?

The gladers all watched as the siren of the box went off. They all rushed over, Bakugou leading the group like normal.

“Everyone get ready, you’ll be restocking your stations.” Everyone knew the drill by now, but Iida was always there to reiterate it in case anyone had forgotten.

Obliging by Iida’s words, everyone stood ready to collect their respective supplies to take back to their stations, unaware of the human that was also coming up with their week’s supply of materials.

With a loud clicking sound, the box opened up and everyone peeked over the edge, shock washing over every face on the glade.

“Rise and shine, greenie.” Bakugou spoke, jumping down into the box, staring down at the newbie who sat, afraid in the corner.

“W-Who are you!?” You yelled, terrified. Who were these people, and who was this guy? He had distinctive features, spikey blonde hair that looked like it could poke your eye out, bright red eyes that reminded you of rubies, and broad, buff, muscular arms.

“Bakugou. Now get up.” He yanked at your arm harshly, pulling you to your feet. You yanked your arm away from him and walked toward the ladder yourself, happy to be out of the box.

But when your eyes fell upon the sight, you felt like you’d much rather crawl back into the cage you’d come up in.

Large walls that looked hundreds of feet tall stood before you, enclosing you into a green glade. Your eyes landed on an opening. Your feet had never moved faster.

Trapped with strangers? No thanks. You ran, running toward the opening, the escape to whatever nightmare this was.

“Why do they always run?” Kirishima spoke to Kaminari who was also interested in what you were doing.

“Oi, Deku! Do your fucking job.” Bakugou hissed, sending the green-haired boy after you. Deku did as he was told and caught up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

“That door may be open, but you’ll die if you step foot out there.” He warned, watching the horror was onto your face. You frowned and glanced back at the large opening, wondering if this was some sort of ruse to keep you here.

“We’re all stuck here, and we all came up just like you did.” The green-haired kid’s tone was sincere. He was telling the truth.

“Come on, we’ll show you around and show you the ropes.” He gave you a bright smile that calmed your nerves. But you couldn’t shake the blonde-Bakugou, from your memory.

“I’m Midoriya, but you can call me Deku if you’d like.” He, Deku, introduced himself. You shook his hand as he had removed one from your should for you to shake.

“I’m...” You paused. You couldn’t even remember your own name. What was this? Why couldn’t you?

“Why can’t I-”

“It’ll come to you. It’s the one thing they let us keep.”

The way Deku had said the sentence scared you. Who was they, and why are they taking anything from you?

“Oi! Greenie!” Bakugou yelled, earning both you and Deku’s attention.

“Get your asses over here and help with the supplies.” Bakugou’s loud voice boomed across the glade, much like his quirk, or what little power he had managed to manifest again.

Quirks had been tamed significantly, only being about a third as powerful as they used to be. The gladers learned this the hard way when their cherished quirks turned out to be much weaker than they seemed to remember.

It was the League’s way of keeping them in check. Keeping them perfectly under their control.

Over the next few days, you found your place rather quickly. You’d been placed on gardening duty with Uraraka and Jiro. The girls were nice to you, and you quickly became friends with them.

But with no luck at all, you hadn’t remembered your name.

At least you weren’t alone in this whole situation. If you thought back to what Deku had said to you, each and every one of these gladers had come up in that box. How terrifying it had to have been to come up and be the only one there.

“So does Bakugou run this place?” You question, tending to some fruits, picking them carefully and setting them in a basket.

“Oh no. As much as he acts like he’s in charge, Iida is the leader of our group. And Yaoyorozu is second in command.” Jiro stated, a smile resting on her lips.

“Bakugou is just loud.” Uraraka laughed. Jiro let out a chuckle herself but quickly froze when she noticed the blonde approaching.

“Greenie!” Bakugou yelled, causing you to look over your shoulder at the blonde.

“Bakugou!” You jumped to your feet. He examined you and sighed.

“We’re going on a walk, Jiro, they’re excused until I return them.” Bakugou instructed, snagging you by the wrist, dragging you into the woods nearby.

“Why the hell haven’t you remembered your name yet?” Bakugou raised his voice.You took a step back, removing your wrist from his grasp.

“I-I don’t know! It’s not my fault!” You glared at the blonde, your heart leaping out of your chest at his closeness to you. You were backed against a tree, his face mere inches away from your own.

“How about we fight it out of you.” Bakugou smirked. You shook your head and groaned. This guy was about as much of a pain in the ass as he was attractive.

“Why can’t you just give me a bit more time? I promise it’ll come back to me!” You were telling the truth, you hadn’t remembered your name, or much else.

“What about your quirk.” Bakugou asked. You tilted your head.

“Quirk?” You questioned.

“It’s your power. Like this.” Bakugou raised a fist and at first glance you thought he was about to slap you, but you watched as small pops emitted from his palm, resembling tiny explosions.

“I’m not- I’m sure I have one but like my name, I don’t remember anything. This is all so new to m-”

“Shut up!” Bakugou groaned, his hands gripped your shoulders harshly, pushing your back into the tree harder.

“O-Ow! That hurts idiot!” You groaned, trying to shake him off of you.

“Don’t call me an idiot, idiot.” Bakugou retorted, leaning in closer to your face.

Your cheeks burned red, much like the shade of his irises. They were a beautiful vermilion shade, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t finding an odd peace in them.

“Why so red, huh?” Bakugou leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your lips. You made the executive decision to close the gap and in that moment when your lips connected, it was like a thousand fireworks going off.

Like a light bulb had turned on inside your head, it all came crashing down on you. As fast as you had pressed your lips to his and kissed him, you pulled back and stared at him.

“(F/n).”

“Hey-”

“My name is (Y/n)!” You were happy. So happy to have figured out your name. To have remembered it. Bakugou watched the excitement on your face as you stared back at him.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you again.” You blurted out. Bakugou rolled his eyes and pressed his lips to yours again.

You felt like everything was moving at a million miles per hour but it was a speed you could get used to. Somehow, in some unprecedented way, you had remembered your name by kissing Bakugou.

So if kissing him brought back your name, what else could it bring back?

Guess you’d just have to keep doing it until you found out.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist | maze runner au masterlist

211 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 5 (Lemon x the world) - Mermelada

A/n: Hej hej hej! I’m very late in posting this to AQ after Ao3, so please forgive me! I hope you all like *~* filler chapters *~* because there’s a couple of them coming up! I’ve already written the next couple of chapters, but PLEEEAAASSSEE let me know if you have any requests or suggestions! Namely, should I attempt to write smut or not lol! Thank you again for all your lovely words about the fic, I love you all massively <3 <3

Having not slept in her own bed for the last two nights, Lemon decided to take a well-earned evening for herself, partly because she was running out of excuses for her parents as to why she’d been out so much lately, and partly to give the various bruises and bite-marks on her body time to heal. With Gus the dog snuggled into her side, she waited for The Sims to load on her laptop as Chromatica blared from her phone. She pressed on its screen to check the time, and saw she had received a new text message.

Dr Rita <3 [16:45] “I hope you survived your walk of shame, mon petit citron! Thank you again for a great night and day :-) x”

Rita was amazing. She was the epitome of a dark horse: she was so kind and patient with Lemon during her panic crisis, as she had so adorably put it, and made her feel all the safety and love she needed all morning. Yet not long afterwards, after some lazy chatter which had made Lemon inexplicably horny, she was once again fucking her to within an inch of her life. Speaking two languages was far from the only thing she could do with her mouth. They had even gone for lunch together after round 2 – and round 2.5 in the shower – before reluctantly parting as Rita prepared for her nightshift at the hospital. It was over lunch where they both agreed that pursuing anything serious wouldn’t be worth it, but they would definitely like to work on a friendship. Lemon had, however, still managed to charm her way into borrowing a hoodie from the older woman, both of them secretly pleased that it gave them a reason to hang out again. She quickly sent off a reply, thanking her once again for her help that morning and wishing her luck for the long night ahead in kidneyland with her love interest from the ward.

Looking back to her laptop, the loading bar appeared to have frozen. Rolling her eyes, she held down the device’s power button to restart it. The snoring lump beside her clearly wasn’t going to entertain her as she waited, so she bit the bullet and opened up her new favourite app.

She grinned upon seeing that her most recent message was from Kyne.

[16:20] Remember I told you about my roommate who works in a porn studio lol? She came home just now with a box of those custard tarts you were telling me about, they are so good!!! 🤤 You really do have the best taste 😘

That’s a lot to unpack, she laughed to herself, she’s persistent, fair play to her! Plus it turns out she actually WAS listening! I just hope they were clean… I’ll reply later. Now what about Kiara, eh Gus-bus? She was nice, let’s see what she’s said!

[09:12] How was the party? 🙂 I hope it was tudo bem!!

Lemon and Kiara had continued chatting yesterday until Lemon had to leave for her date, a ‘family party’ being the first reasonable sounding thing that came to mind when having to end their conversation. She hated lying, she really did, but how acceptable was it really to tell one Tinder-match that you were going on a date with another Tinder-match?

[17:03] It went well, merci! But I was too hungover to function all day lol 🤯

[17:03] How has your day been? 😊

Right, who’s next? Two new matches and a message from Boa! Let’s see what she has to say about me spamming her before she blocks me. Clicking on the girl’s message from last night, however, Lemon was pleasantly surprised that her texting blunder wasn’t the end of her chances.

[20:55] Lololololololololol no YOU’RE fun!!!!

[20:55] Clock the good grammar

[20:55] So what’s a girl like you doing on an app like this?

[20:56] 🍆🍆🍆

Now that was a question Lemon still occasionally asked herself, and she didn’t even know if she had an answer. So the best she could do was be honest.

[17:07] Well I’m recently single so I’m just seeing what happens, really, a few dates here and there to get me back on my feet again! To quote the great Kelly Rowland, I am down for whatever 😉

[17:07] How about you?

She had, once again, been well and truly sucked into the Tinder vortex. Closing her laptop and placing it on her bedside table, she nuzzled her face into Gus’s head, the dog making no effort at all to reciprocate the sudden attention. Squishing a kiss to his head, she turned back to the app, and her new matches: Scarlett and Ilona. They had both matched at around the same time, making their chat windows sit neatly at the bottom of Lemon’s screen. Sending them both standard “Hey gorge! What’s up? 😊” messages, she went back to swiping through profiles, although within less than a minute, a reply from Scarlett flashed at the top of her screen.

[17:13] Hey gorge! I’m doing much better now that I’m speaking to you 😉

[17:14] What’s up with you?

A bit of enthusiasm goes a long way, she smiled, maybe Scarlett is the one? Or maybe she’s too into me and I should be worried? Surely not!

[17:15] I’m glad I can help! I’m pretty good thanks, having a lazy night in tonight! Are you doing anything fun?

Lemon debated giving the girl more details of her night in, but she was worried about what she might think… She’s covered in tattoos and eats fire, for god’s sake, there is no way she likes Lady Gaga or The Sims. She probably listens to death metal and drives a motorbike and has a pet snake, I could never compete!

Fortunately, Scarlett was charming and very easy to talk to, and the two exchanged details - both mundane and exciting - through quickly typed messages. She learned that the other blonde was a lawyer, but had gone to circus school at weekends throughout university - which explained a lot - and was currently in an open relationship with her girlfriend. Lemon had never been ‘the other woman’ before, but as long as she wasn’t hurting anyone, surely it’s not that bad! Eventually, though, one message made Lemon’s anxiety start to creep in again.

[17:57] So I know this probably seems WAY too fast, so don’t worry if you don’t want to

Time seemed to stand still between this message and the next one. What does she want to do that’s fast? Sex? That’s not that big a deal, it must be more than that. Unless she’s into super kinky shit, which wouldn’t surprise me, does she want to piss on me? Does she want her girlfriend to piss on me? Does she want me to be her fake girlfriend at her sister’s wedding where we have to share a bed before eventually realising we loved each other all along? Finally, right on cue, the follow-up arrived.

[17:59] It’s my birthday on Saturday and I’m having a party at my house before heading out on the town, it’ll hopefully just be a few friends, and it would be cool if you could make it 🥳

[18:00] You can bring a friend if you want! But again no pressure!!

Wow, that wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. She started blankly at her phone, letting her heart rate settle back down to its normal speed. A party, cool. I can do that!

[18:02] You had me worried for a second there! But that sounds fun, I’ll be there! 😀

Exiting the app, she hastily composed a message to Jan. Jan loved parties, she had such a natural charisma which she exuded effortlessly whenever she entered a room. She was able to chat to anyone about anything, and Lemon was always responsible for getting her out of tricky situations on nights out where her natural friendliness had been mistaken for something else. She would be the perfect person to deflect any potential awkwardness that may occur at a Tinder-date-she’d-never-met-before’s birthday party. As she awaited Jan’s reply (Please please please say yes, Jan, you’re my only hope!), she checked on the app again, swiping through countless samey-looking profiles. Until she reached one that she’d definitely seen before.

Priyanka, 29

Within 10 miles

I already swiped for this girl, look! There’s her in her lengha, there she’s at pride… Oh she has new pictures now, how weird! Priyanka did indeed have an additional two photos on her profile which Lemon hadn’t seen before: a professional-looking black and white image of her face and torso, showing her dark waves flowing down her shoulders, and her eyes directly piercing Lemon’s soul; and finally, a picture of the dark-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig, cowboy hat, and appearing to be screaming into a microphone… I do like a Hannah Montana fantasy, get it girl!

Just like before, Lemon swiped Priyanka’s profile to the right, but unlike last time, the notification she’d been hoping for appeared straight away.

Congratulations! You have matched with Priyanka!

Buoyed by the excitement of matching with somebody so quickly - and someone so gorgeous - Lemon jumped straight off the bed and started dancing, ‘Rain on Me’ blaring beside her for the third time that evening. Even Gus seemed to pick up on the change of energy, running up and down the bed, wagging his tail merrily. As the pair danced, the familiar ‘ding’ of a new notification sounded through the room. And again.

Briefly pausing to pick up her phone, she saw the two messages she had received. Firstly, from Kiara.

[18:12] Unnggghhh work today was the worst, but I found a really cute Portuguese café on my walk home! I have eaten so many natas lol. We could go sometime if you want to? 🙂

Before replying (yes, obviously… I didn’t download Duolingo yesterday for nothing!), she went to check on the second message, which was from her recent match, Ilona.

[18:12] See you on Saturday bitch! xox

Well that seems ominous.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #mermelada #lemon #rita baga #kyne #kiara #bitch on arrival #scarlett bobo #ilona verley #priyanka #submission #lmid #can1

6 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

8x01: We Need to Talk About Kevin

Then:

P U R G A T O R Y

Now:

100-Mile Wilderness, Maine

1 Year Later

A couple is sleeping peacefully in the forest when a bright light fills the sky, waking the woman.

The couple goes out to investigate when they hear rustling outside. It’s a deer! Close...it’s Dean! He’s looking more like a feral rat than a deer. I would not want to run into someone looking like Dean in the middle of nowhere, that’s for sure. He pulls his gun, asks where the road is, grabs a bag of their stuff, and skedaddles. Yikes. First, for anyone not caught up, let’s all collectively scream what we all thought on our first viewing: Where’s Cas??! Second, who the fuck hikes anywhere, let alone the 100 Mile Wilderness trail with that kind of gear?! Camp chairs? A lantern the size of a dining room chandelier? A tent that’s making Harry Potter quake? Anyway, I lol thinking this is the most unbelievable part of this scene, and not the dude who just got back from Purgatory.

Clayton, Louisiana

4 Days Later

Cue up Styx “Man in the Wilderness”, and sit back and watch one of my favorite montages. Watching Dean walk down a road never gets old. He walks to a cemetery and digs up a grave. He chants an incantation over some bones, and voilà, he brings back to life a vampire! They embrace.

Wait, what?

In Kermit, Texas, Sam’s ditching on a woman AND a dog. He drives to Rufus’s cabin in Montana, where a hiding Dean assaults him with all the monster tests. They both pass, and hug. Sam is shocked. “I guess standing too close to exploding dick, sends your ass straight to Purgatory.” Dean explains the situation with the first dick joke of the season. Sam has further questions, and Dean is vague on the details. Sam also wonders about Cas. Dean shuts down a little more and admits, “Yeah, Cas didn’t make it.”

Sam presses the matter. “Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go,” Dean adds. So, he admits that Cas let go here, did he alter his memory after this? In any event, Dean’s really broken about it.

Sam then admits that he got out of the life, tossed all his phones, etc. “Something happened to me this year, too.” Gah, like a complete breakdown and fugue state, but I will reserve my thoughts for my non-existent essay on the state of Sam’s mind when Dean and Cas were in Purgatory. That sends Dean into an anger spiral. (Natasha: LIMES)

He listens to all of Sam’s phone messages --the increasingly desperate and eventually disillusioned pleas for help from Kevin.

He was their responsibility, and Sam just ditched him. Uh, because he was in complete mental failure! Sam hears something in the background of the last message and is able to isolate the sound to a bus station. They track him to Michigan, where his girlfriend, Channing, is attending college.

Once at the motel, Dean sees two boys playing with their toy guns, which sends him into a memory spiral. He’s chasing a vamp in Purgatory and eventually catches him. “Where’s the angel?”

WhEreS tHe aNgEl?

W H E R E ‘ S T H E A N G E L?

(Don’t touch me.)

“You’re him. The human.”

Like, excuse me? The monsters are all meeting up talking about the human wandering around Purgatory looking for that angel? LIKE PLEASE. No, please STOp. I can’t take it, even after all these years.

Anyway, Dean keeps demanding to know where that goddamned angel is. The vamp refuses to say so Mr. Dramatic lops his head off set to a very elegant camera angle.

Another monster attacks but Dean’s too far from his machete. Then ANOTHER monster attacks THAT monster. Spoiler: IT’S BENNY!

Later, in the motel, Dean suggests moving on, but Sam thinks he should get some rest. Dean goes into another anger spiral --probably because he couldn’t sleep for a year and all Sam did was sleep due to his complete breakdown. Sam trying to ignore that he didn’t have control of his world isn’t helping him with Dean. Sam found “a girl.” Well, actually, she was a fully grown woman, but go on… Listen, I don't like the Amelia stuff as much as the next person, so I have a very elaborate headcanon of Sam’s mental break and the symbolic fantasy world he created while he barely existed at the cabin.

Anyway, Sam asks Dean what Purgatory was like. “It was bloody. Messy. 31 flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there.”

“It felt pure.”

It fElT PuRe

I T F E L T P U R E

Flashback to Purgatory, where Dean’s life is still saved by Benny, the vampire. Dean threatens to shiv him up the ass so...every friendship needs to start somewhere? The vampire knows an escape hatch out of Purgatory! But it’s only for humans. He’ll show him the portal as long as Dean smuggles his soul out of Purgatory.

The first rule of Purgatory is you can’t trust anyone. Dean doesn’t trust Benny - not an inch. But he does need allies. He tells Benny that he’ll agree to that tenuous deal as long as they find “the angel” first.

At a college, the Winchesters interview Channing. She hasn’t heard a word from Kevin and furthermore, would spurn his love forever now that he’s no longer going to Princeton. Ouch! After they leave, Channing’s eyes go black and she slices her roommate's throat so she can make a phone call. DOUBLE OUCH! She reports that Kevin still hasn’t gotten in touch with her, but Dean Winchester is back.

Trying to get some work done amongst the students, Sam experiences his own mournful flashback. He hit a dog! He shouted at veterinary hospital employees! Damn it, this is an animal hospital!!! I hand you a bloody dog, you fix! Shouting helps things happen!

Sam bby.

Dean arrives with a burger in hand, reunited with one of the loves of his life at least. Sam reports that he’s tracked Kevin to Iowa.

At a run down church in Iowa, the Winchesters pay a house call. Kevin immediately confronts them with a Borax-loaded supersoaker. Once he figures out they’re human, Kevin gives them the tour of his new digs. He’s learned how to ward against demons. And then while explaining his recent past, Kevin has his own flashback! Everyone gets one!

In Kevin’s flashback, he’s been captured by Crowley who sits him down to work on another tablet. A DEMON tablet! Dun dun DUN! Kevin mines its secrets and tells Crowley that there’s a hell gate in Wisconsin. (Made out of cheese?) Demons gather ingredients for him and Kevin gets to have a MONTAGE of preparing a spell to open the gate. Only…

...Kevin was hoodwinking the demons the whole time.

He’d found a demon bomb recipe and blasts away his guards while Crowley waits on a distant Wisconsin farm.

Back in the present, Kevin’s stowed the tablet somewhere safe but before he did that, he made sure to memorize one more important spell from the tablet: a spell to close the gates of Hell...FOREVER.

Dean and Sam head outside to the...second story church deck?...to chat. Sam’s disappointed that Kevin seems further into the hunting life than before. Dean’s proud of the kid - “he’s in it whether he likes it or not.” Oof. Dean, your Winchester is showing.

Sam heads down to the candle-lit church. He apologizes to Kevin for bugging out on him - and on everything hunting related. It’s definitely staged like a confession.

Kevin admits that he’s perturbed when he really stops and thinks about his life, post-prophet-revelation. Sam assures him that “it gets better.” Hmm RLY? Sam’s an optimist, and continues: if they can banish all the demons, Kevin might actually be free to live a good life. BRB weeping and shouting angrily at this show!

In Sam’s hazy flashback, he waits anxiously for the news from the vet. She reports that his dog will be okay. Sam corrects her - the dog isn’t his! She double barrel blasts him with sarcasm, implying that if he doesn’t take care of the dog he hit then he’s the worst person in the world. Which. Okay. I generally don’t mind Amelia though I think she demonstrably has terrible luck picking stable, healthy relationships. But this scene always has me rolling my eyes. It’s so normal to foist a dog on a stranger! Everyone has the means and time to care for a dog, not to mention a dog who has been seriously injured! A vet would not do this! Amelia, plz.

Amelia puppy dog eyes Sam, and he’s toast. He’s spent so many years working on his offensive puppy eyed tactics, he never thought to work on his defense!

The church begins to shake and wood splits apart Kevin’s devil’s traps. A couple of demons arrive, armed with more swagger than weaponry. There’s a zappy flashy kicky fight and then Crowley and Channing arrive. Crowley demands the tablet for Channing’s life. He flashes Channing back into control for a moment as proof of life. Kevin offers himself up in exchange for Channing’s freedom and heads off to “pack up.” Then Kevin lures Crowley and Channing to a holy water trap.

As they’re being doused, the Winchesters and Kevin escape. While they drive away, Crowley orders the demon out of Channing and then kills her. Oof.

Later, Dean gets a phone call as they stop for gas and snacks, and then passes it off as a wrong number. Kevin passes on donuts and beef jerky. He just saw his girlfriend die and that doesn’t lend itself well to gas station snacks.

Dean offers up words of Winchester Solace™. “You’re in it now. Whether you like it or not you do what you gotta do.” Good talk, Dean!

On Dean’s pee break, he furtively places a phone call. It’s Benny, the vampire from earlier! He’s lurking on the edges of a funeral in a not-at-all-suspicious way. He figured out cell phones! But not fashion.

Dean tells him that they shouldn’t talk for a while since they’re both adjusting to life. Benny wistfully tells Dean that Purgatory WAS pure and he should have appreciated it more while he was there. They both admonish each other to be good (and presumably not go on a murderous rampage). Good talk!

WHERE’RE THE QUOTES?

We made it, brother

I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower

Nothing says "family" quite like the whole family being dead

Where’s the angel?

Hey, the rules are simple, Sam. You don't take a joint from a guy named Don, and there's no dogs in the car!

So you're looking for a soul train

There's a demon in you, and you're going to your safety school

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 8x01 #we need to talk about kevin #dean winchester #sam winchester #benny lafitte #kevin tran #crowley #amelia #supernatural season 8

7 notes · View notes

gaytoxe · 4 years

Text

Oumota Weekend 2019: Day 1- Leadership & Pining

i am terrible at making titles so forgive me if these sound horrid lol

Warmth Amidst Frigid Weather

There’s only one Ouma Kokichi in Momota’s life. A liar; the one always teasing the hell out of him. The one Momota declared himself his rival.

But it’s different with him, the way they fight.

There’s a way Ouma’s shit-eating grin and his words challenge him, encouraging him to fight; to take the bait and chase after him until they’re breathless, laughing from how the shock of exhilaration travels through their bodies. And Momota knows he feels the same way because of the glint in his eyes. It sparkles, brighter than any star he’s ever seen, and their breaths sync together, knowing they’re making the same kind of face and experiencing the same kind of energy rushing through every inch of their skin, every nerve in their bodies shocking with life by just being in the other’s vicinity.

And he wants to run again and again, to feel that same feeling. But he doesn’t want to run just to run. He wants to run because Ouma is ahead of him, cutting corners and laughing.

There’s something about his laugh. The sound, the context, everything about it dances around Momota’s heart like nothing else does. And he likes it.

Momota watches his eyes follow the frosty rain that cascades outside, and the droplets reflect delicately in his lilac eyes, chin propped up by his hand with a bored expression on his face. The warmth of the café envelops his body, gentle light shining on the edges of the table, contrasting the gloomy atmosphere outside.

He stares for an eternity’s worth while, his heart protruding from his chest from how fixated his eyes are on him.

“I didn’t know Momota-chan enjoyed staring at me,” Ouma snickers, and Momota blinks.

“Like hell I do,” he tries, but there’s a tiny lump in his throat that he swallows dryly to hide.

“This must be the beginning of a love crusade!” Ouma announces, and Momota swears he can spot stars in the oceans of lilac in his eyes. “When are you gonna confess to me? Now? Under a cherry tree? How romantic of you.”

“I told you, it’s not like that! I was looking behind you—“ Momota pauses to find and excuse— “—at the plants.”

“Of course,” Ouma drawls, leaning back against his seat. “Falling for a plant just to spite me? I can’t believe you!” He sniffles, crocodile tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “Just what I’d expect from you, Momota-chan. Do you know how this makes me feel?”

“Oh fuck off,” Momota scoffs, flicking his straw wrapper at him as Ouma laughs.

He knows it’s a terrible excuse, but there’s something about Ouma’s laugh that makes his chest tighten just a little, makes his lips curl up ever so slightly in a frustrated but elated smile.

And he’s captured in that moment once again, heart sticking out just a little longer until he shoves it back in his body despite sitting in that eternity, the tiny thought that he’d like to hear that laugh again settling in his head.

“It’s pretty obvious, Momota-chan.”

“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Momota tries to protest, but he knows it’s a lie as soon as the words vibrate against his vocal cords. He huffs, and a puff of white escapes his lips, the bitterness of the weather sending chills up his spine despite the jacket that rests on his shoulders. The sun slowly lowers itself behind the trees, tinges of purple, orange and red masterfully painted across the canvas of the sky, lighting up Ouma’s face in a way that Momota doesn’t see very often.

“It’s super obvious.” Ouma grins, and Momota notices the same way his lip curls up slightly when he smiles. Looking at it, it almost looks cute, the way his smile frames his face. But he doesn’t pay attention to those things.

He swallows a lump in this throat. “Like hell it is.”

“The way you stare at me?” Ouma brings up. “You’re always looking at me with those eyes.” He takes a step towards him, points right at him, at his warm irises that gaze right into his. “Those right there. You’re doing it right now, Momota-chan.”

Momota averts his gaze, the tips of his ears flushing red. Sure, maybe he does stare at him, (a little too longingly), and maybe he does enjoy the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes shine with stars in the sunlight. Maybe he does like the way his lip curls when he smiles; maybe he does want to gently run his fingers through his hair just once and chase after him in the halls everyday. He wants to keep running beside him, racing to the end of the hall or across the street, the issue of recklessness barely crossing their minds until their legs give out.

Momota resists the urge to avert his gaze, instead focusing his eyes on the gentle white puffs that escape Ouma’s lips.

“Weeeeell?” Ouma gazes up at him. “That face just makes you look ten times more guilty.”

His face increases in temperature and he thinks and thinks, stares at the curl in Ouma’s smile and the sparkles he’s never seen so bright and shining in his life in his lilac eyes. And Momota considers the way Ouma stares at him, the spark that lights when their eyes meet. How they almost start laughing after their arguments, barely taking them seriously at times. His laugh is contagious and rings in Momota’s ears like a song stuck in his head that he never wants to stop, playing it on repeat until he can hear it again for real the next day.

With a heart beating a million miles an hour, Momota swallows the lump in his throat, trying to keep his cool. His heart is a mess, melting and pulsing, and his stomach fills with frantic butterflies, fluttering around and refusing to let go of all the moments he’s ever thought about him and how he loves everything about him from his eyes and his grin to his laugh and his voice.

“Well—“ the words sputter out of his mouth before he can think, cheeks bursting a cherry red that flushes the tips of his ears at his own thoughts— “—maybe I wanted you to think I loved you!”

Ouma snorts.

“Is that it? Then what’s with all those excuses on staring at plants and all those times you’ve tried to act like you weren’t focusing all your attention on me?” he questions, grin firm on his face even though Momota can spot some kind of uncertainty in his eyes that makes him want to think Ouma doesn’t want it to be real but desires it so badly at the same time he’s boring into his eyes.

“That’s—“ Momota averts his gaze— “—whatever! What’re you planning on getting out of this, Ouma?”

“What do you think?”

Momota pauses and raises a hand before it slaps him in the face. The way he stares at him and how it’s the same feeling they have embedded in their hearts.

“Momota-chan’s really an idiot,” Ouma sighs out, placing his hands behind his head and giving him a side glance.

“The— the way you look at me is weird, too,” Momota tells him finally, hand clenching into a fist. “You... you stare at me too. And when we run, you always give me this kind of look. And I know it’s not just in my head ‘cause my heart starts beating faster, and it’s like you know exactly how I feel.”

Ouma stares at him in silence, eyes ever so slightly shining in the way that Momota started noticing ever since he finally paid attention to those things.

Because he loves him. And Momota knows that those shared moments aren’t just things that are forgotten between them.

His eyes soften and Momota ends up smiling, remembering all the times he’s ever thought about the way he thinks about Ouma. It’s now or never to him, even though he knows he probably won’t let him get away with this much without admitting how he feels.

“There’s something about you, Kokichi, that I just can’t get over. It’s keeps my heart on a sprint, and I don’t know how to get over it. I like it. And there’s lots of other things I like about you..” he trails off. “My head is so full of you I can’t get over it.”

Ouma’s lilac irises shine in a way Momota has never seen before, and his words get caught in his throat trying to say it all.

“I— well, what I’m tryna say, is—“ Momota clenches at his chest, closing his eyes for a few moments to settle those three words in his mind, eyes fluttering open once more— “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words ring in Momota’s ears and echo over and over, and he can’t help but smile like an idiot, face still cherry red and with his entire body growing in sync with his quickly beating heart. He almost doesn’t feel the frigid air nipping at his face.

Just as if following a melody, they concurrently step towards each other with Ouma’s hand resting on his chest, and Momota swears he can feel his heartbeat quicken from his touch. His hand instinctively rests on his waist, and Ouma leans up on his tiptoes, taking Momota’s hand in his.

His lips feel so soft and rewarding that Momota doesn’t want to pull away; it’s the softest feeling he’s ever felt in his entire life, and when they disconnect, he’s staring down at him, the warmth of his hands traveling throughout his whole body in the cold.

Amidst the frost that envelops his cheeks down to his feet, Momota doesn’t feel it even a little.

#oumota #kaito momota #kokichi ouma #oumotaweekend2019 #ndrv3 #my writing

51 notes · View notes

alwayseattherude21fanfic · 5 years

Note

Can I ask for a Mayan request? Can you do one where the girl is Miguel’s younger sister and like her relationships with everyone on the show?? It would be awesome if she was dating Nestor to. Thanks!

A.N:So, this one is going to be a two-parter because it got away from me lol. This first half will be focused on the MC, the next will be from the Cartel side. The second part should be posted sometime early next week, as I have a few Coco and Angel prompts coming up. I’ve also cut out some MC members, as I don’t think they would have had much interaction with such a character; Taza, Tranq, Creeper, Gilly. All that said, I really hope you enjoy this little slice, look forward to the next part, and as always, have a request? Drop it in!

FACE VALUE

PART ONE

BISHOP

Bishop is… Weary. You know that saying? All that glitters is not gold? Yeah, he’s a big believer of that one. And, hearing of Galindo’s sister, a young woman who, according to the grape vine, is a prominent charity fundraiser, volunteers at local hospices and does outreach work in underprivileged neighborhoods, those alarm bells are ringing.

On the few occasions they meet, he takes to questioning her subtly. He asks her how work is going, if it was the hospice up on fifth that she worked at, even though he knew it was on forth, just to see if he can catch her out. He never does. She smiles, flashing dimples, and is always cheerfully polite. To be honest, it pisses him off.

Badly.

No one, and he sincerely meant no one, was spotless. Especially if they had Galindo blood. Still, he isn’t outrightly hostile, he isn’t about to risk his and the MC’s relationship to the Galindo cartel because he can’t keep his mouth shut or paint on a smile when needed, and neither does he take his doubts further than the odd question to see if her answer matches the Intel he has.

He knows how to play the great game.

Bishop is the type of man who likes knowing. And he doesn’t take anything at face value. It’s what’s kept his MC above water, and he himself as a dangerous president. He didn’t get, and most importantly, keep that position by not being an inch on the suspicious side. So, meeting this little sister, who for all the world looks like she is heading towards sainthood, and watching the way Miguel seems to look towards her, care for her, plain for all to see, you can bet Bishop is going to do a little digging, weighing up what exactly this means for him and his crew.

If she might be a… Problem.

He comes up with nothing but more sickeningly good deeds. Open craft nights for orphans. Funding rescue homes. Food shelters for the homeless. Fuck, the girl is in medical school, learning to become a doctor, where, from what he’s heard, she plans to volunteer in poor districts. Either she really is this spotless, and if so, damn, the world needs more people like her in it, or she’s so good at hiding her own shit that even he can’t smell it… And that is something he can respect.

Even admire.

RIZ

Riz is fond. He met her once, down in the brothel by the border, where she was doing some outreach work with the women there. At the time, he did not know it was that Galindo, and when he did find out when one of the women told him after the girl had left, he was surprised. More than surprised.

A Galindo? Are you sure? Really?

Nevertheless, he watched the way she was respectful to the working girls. She didn’t judge them. She wasn’t snooty or condescending. She really just wanted to help. He could tell.

She offered out free protection, gave out numbers for local shelters should the girls need it, counselling for any abuse if they wished to take it, and went as far as giving out her own number should any of them wish or need to simply talk to an open ear without condemnation or judgement.

From then on, he liked her.

It wasn’t often anyone cared about the little man, not unless the little guy could do something for them, and as an underdog himself, from less than stellar beginnings, Riz appreciated the work she was trying to do for those just like him when he was younger.

Most importantly, she didn’t make it feel like charity work. There was no photo’s splattered about the place, on the front of newspapers, taken of her sitting with kids less fortunate than her, only to get back up, walk away and not look back. She didn’t boast about the work she did, in fact, most of it, especially her involvement, was kept under the table.

She wasn’t afraid to go out into the field herself, rather than just simply pumping money out and getting a grunt to do the leg work, and, seemingly, enjoyed that most. It’s where she thrived, in the thick of it, meeting new people from all different walks of life, and she did, honestly, seem invested in each and every person she met.

And that was something he could respect even more.

She had a big smile, and an even bigger heart. So, one day, when she returned to the brothel to catch up with the ladies, if there was a bouquet of roses waiting for her with a simple note saying ‘thanks’, it was the least Riz could do to show her that at least one person appreciated her efforts.

Ez feels… Conflicted. To him, the Galindo’s are what is wrong with the world. Cutthroat. Duplicitous. Bloody. You don’t get in a Galindo’s way, unless you want to get dead.

He’s formed a sort of picture in his mind. Perhaps over exaggerated in some aspects, grossly under exaggerated in others, this is a cartel family after all, and it’s very hard, especially for Ez, to move away from that picture.

But she breaks that picture mercilessly.

She’s exactly everything opposite to what he expects a Galindo to be. Kind. Caring. Perhaps a bit overly cheerful. And he can’t add the name, Galindo, to her face. It just doesn’t fit.

Maybe it’s a bit of jealousy, her brother is married to his ex, an ex he still has strong feelings for, and by association, she’s guilty too in the beginning. However, with each time they meet, running into each other, the more Ez realizes she’s not her brother, and the more conflicted he becomes.

He doesn’t want to like her, but he does.

Fuck, he does.

He’s passing over info about the Galindo’s to the feds, it’s his ticket to freedom, and that includes Miguel’s sister, anything at all the feds can use against the cartel leader, and a sister was prime real-estate in that battle, and, with each passing over, guilt begins to gnaw at him.

Because he knows, when the time comes, the feds will use everything he has told them, including things about her, against Miguel. And she doesn’t deserve to be dragged into the vicious dog fight about to be unleashed.

He doubts she would survive it.

He hopes she proves him wrong.

ANGEL

Angel likes her, and that’s the problem. She’s a Galindo, and Angel, well, he had set himself squarely in the Los Olvidados camp. Unlike Ez, though, there is no guilt in the beginning.

It’s just business.

In the world they lived in, you either stepped on a few toes, or you had your own toes stepped on. Angel liked his shoes just how they were, thank you. It was nothing personal.

The thing is, that sort of mentality was easier said than done. When you begin to get to know someone personally, that tends to start blurring the whole ‘business is business’ excuse.

Angel didn’t like that.

He didn’t like the way she was easy to get along with. He didn’t like the way she shared the same sort of humour as him. Dark, unexpectedly so for someone so fucking preppy, sardonic and bitter. Like black coffee. He didn’t like how she asked personal shit, like asking after how he was doing, if he was alright, and expected nothing in return. She really just cared. He wasn’t used to that. He was the older brother. He was the one to check up, not be checked up on. He liked none of it.

Because it fucked up his whole ‘nothing personal’ rationalization.

So, he starts distancing himself. When they cross paths, he walks by, acting as if he hasn’t seen her, seen her smile at him in greeting, growing confused as he ducks his head down and slinks off. When she waits in the car out in the scrapyard, when Miguel is down and in the temple checking off points with Bishop, he turns his back and pretends he doesn’t hear his name being called, only to go ignored.

Again, nothing personal. It was just what had to be done. He had already started backing Adelita, and, at the time, thinking she was going to take down the cartel, Miguel’s sister included, Galindo’s appeared to come in a package deal, it seemed the best course of action.

Yet, he feels like shit for it.

Angel’s not used to being rude, unfriendly or even unsociable. Especially to someone so... Kind, It never sat right with him. So, when he learns Adelita’s plans were never one of obliteration, but of getting into bed with the Galindo’s, he feels fucking stupid. Real stupid.

He feels even worse when, after spotting her in the car waiting out front of the temple for Miguel to finish, he greeted her, the first time in months, and she acted as if nothing was amiss, as if he hadn’t been treating her like a leper for the last six months.

In fact, her first words were asking how he was doing, and fuck, she was a good kid. Better than most. Still, Angel doesn’t apologize. He can’t. If he apologizes, he recognizes he had changed towards her, and if he recognizes that, then he has to recognize the reason, and he doesn’t need anyone, especially a Galindo, no matter how nice they are, analyzing his shifting moods.

Yet, he apologizes without words. A strawberry frappe, those frilly drinks that don’t really belong in a coffee house, her favourite, is always waiting for her when the Galindo car pulls up to the MC. There’s always an extra slice of cheesecake left in the garage fridge for her. And there is, now, a bowl on the side of the bar, filled with her favourite chili chocolates.

The kid has a sweet-tooth a mile long.

COCO

Coco is distrustful. He’s met plenty of people like her before. Social workers who came milling about when he was a kid, promising to protect, help,only to finish their paper work and move on to the next sorry case.

That’s all they were, kids, people like him, numbers and statistics, bad stains on societies face that needed to be fixed. Quickly. They pretend they care, they pretend they want to help, but they don’t. Not really. They just want to finish their work quota, file away the day and get home.

When they get to their bed, they could tell themselves they did something good today and sleep tight. Lies. All of it lies. Pretty, but false. The truth was that alcoholic dad they were giving anger management lessons to would still hit his kids, only in places people couldn’t see now. That druggy mother they had put in rehab? Yeah, she was back on the street scoring by the end of the week, leaving her kids at home, hungry and scared. That prostitute they had gotten to swear not to work the corner again? She was back to hopping men for cash within the hour.

He knew that one personally.

Call him cynical. He just knew how people worked when they weren’t being watched.

At first, he thinks she’s just another cog in the machine. The pretty face to the ugly truth of the Galindo cartel, something her brother uses to hide behind. A come look at me, look how good we are, how could we be conducting illegal drug rings, sort of deal.

And then one night, on the ride home, he sees her down an alley way. It’s the type of alley no local would go down. Filled with trash, blankets where the homeless crash when the nights get chilly, where shady drug deals go down. Coco doesn’t know why he stops, but he does.

He didn’t recognize her at first, having only saw her in brief passing before. No. That night, he simply see’s a woman crouching down in the dark, hunched. He parked up at the side of the road, still not really knowing what he was doing, why he was doing it, but there he was, getting off his bike, walking over.

Call it his good deed of the year.

Imagine his surprise when, through the flicker of the street light, he finally got a glimpse of her face and realised who it was. Now, imagine that surprise going tenfold when he saw her, crouched there, talking away to some woman, obviously down on her luck, black eye and all, and, upon seeing the woman’s bare feet, socks holey and damp, she sat right down in the middle of that alley way, plucked her own boots right off, and handed them over without so much as a blink.

The woman took them, after some urging, and as bright as a sunbeam, she gave her some money, all she had in her wallet, told her were the local shelter was, and as if she was strolling off to Disneyland, stood up and started walking down the street, sans shoes.

Coco followed her.

He didn’t know why until he catches up. He tells her to come back, he has a bike, that she shouldn’t walk around, barefoot, at night, in this sort of place. She says thank you. That it was really kind of him. He didn’t need to go out of his way for her. She’ll pay him for the gas when she gets home and gets her bank card. Coco waves her off.

This girl was something else.

When he pulls up to the place she told him to drop her off, he realizes it’s the hospice she volunteers at, that she has a night-shift she’s planning to take… Barefoot. Coco doesn’t say anything. She smiles at him, wishes him a good night, and she’s off, full of endless energy and smiles.

However, come morning, by the time she has to leave to head home, there is a pair of new boots waiting for her at the front desk, new tags still hanging on the zip. Kindness deserved to be rewarded, even just a little. Perhaps, Coco thought, there really was people out there who were kind. Who really did care. For once, Coco felt hope.

A pair of boots seemed a good price to feel that way again.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #bishop imagine #riz imagine #ez reyes imagine #angel reyes imagine #coco imagine #fanfic #imagine

132 notes · View notes

sovietghoststories · 5 years

Text

just friends | teaser

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): FWB, Possessive/Jealous Bucky, catching feelings, denial, dealing with PTSD, smut Summary: Following a bad breakup, the reader and Bucky begin a friends with benefits relationship. Naturally, it blows up in their faces. Notes: The prequel to a hotter touch, a better fuck aka the get together that was requested quite a bit lol. This has been in my drafts pretty much since I posted ahtabf but I’m finally feeling inspired to finish it (hopefully sharing will really kick my ass into gear too). I’ve got quite a bit more planned but I wanted to show you guys I’m not totally dead 😂

The heavy metal door creaks open, the rusty hinges groaning. Across the way, Bucky leans against the railing. The red cherry of a cigarette cuts through the dusky morning light, a trail of smoke curling around his bowed head. Shoulders slumped, he looks broken, defeated by some unnamable thing.

Seeing someone so strong brought so low breaks her heart in two. Y/N makes sure her footfalls are heavy enough to alert the super soldier to her presence. She came up here to comfort him, not have a repeat performance of what happened in the bedroom.

There’s something about him that seems fragile at this moment as if she presses too hard with her fingertips, his edges will shatter like thin glass. He doesn’t turn his gaze away from the pastel skyline though every inch of his body tenses when she stops next to him, her own gaze fixed firmly on the hard planes of his face.

Swallowing, Y/N reaches out and brushes her knuckles against the exposed skin of his bicep, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch. The air between them is charged with all the things left unsaid, the words stuck in the back of her throat, consonants and vowels a tangled jumble of nonsense.

Silence stretches, a divide the size of a canyon growing between them until she plucks up the courage to break it, settling on a quiet, “It’s okay, you know that right? It was an accident.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he curses, the railing groaning beneath his palms as his jaw clenches hard. “I’m so goddamn sorry. I could have really…” He doesn’t finish the sentence but he doesn’t need to. “This is nothing, I’ve had way worse,” she says, trying to lighten the mood. “Thankfully I’m a quick healer.” It’s not that she’s trying to downplay the seriousness of what happened but rather she can’t stand the thought of Bucky shouldering even more guilt for actions he had no control over. That was in his past. She never wants him to be forced back into those cold, lonely shadows.

“I hurt you.” His eyes are sharp and dead as they finally pull away from the sky, flicking down to the sleeves covering her wrists, knowing the circle of bruises that lie beneath. “And I could have done so much worse…” “What matters is you didn’t. I’m OKAY, promise.”

Reaching down, Y/N laces her fingers with his, giving a quick squeeze that he answers with one of his own. She contents herself with watching the sunrise, sharing the quiet as Bucky rearranges his broken pieces all the while something feels like it’s trying to claw it’s way up her throat. She forces it down. “You’re still learning how to be a person. Please don’t blame yourself, Buck. Shit happens. As far as I’m concerned? We,” she gestures between them with her free hand, burrowing into the warmth of his side, a quick smile breaking out across her face as she meets the endless depths of his eyes for the first time since she came up here, “Are good.”

Keeping her captive, the ex-assassin raises the hand wrapped up in hers. His lips feather over the jut of her knuckles, each kiss saying everything if only she was willing to listen.

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

Everything comes crashing down a few days after the Incident. The morning starts off normally enough, filled with sleepy murmurs and soft kisses. It’s only when Bucky heads out to grab breakfast that the world goes topsy turvy. Y/N is in the kitchen fixing up something to drink when Steve joins her, leaning against the wall pointedly. Before she can greet the captain, he’s already speaking, his brows low over his eyes and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You need to be careful, Y/N.” Confused, she smiles and gives him the side eye. “Good morning to you too, Steve?”

The forearms crossed over the trunk of his chest flex, his golden head ducking to meet her eyes, tone grave as he says, “I mean it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” she says with a huff. “And what exactly is it that I’m meant to be careful about?” “You know what.” “No I don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”

The verbal circles are beginning to get on her nerves. She wishes Steve would stop being so cryptic and get to the point, her hazy, happy mood quickly evaporating in the face of his disapproval. Of what, she has no clue but it rubs her the wrong way, hackles raising. There’s something distinctly...judgey in his expression. “He’s been through a lot, and I don’t really know what’s going on besides what he’s told me but this isn’t a good idea and I think you know that. Someone’s going to get hurt and it’s not going to be you.” Frowning, Y/N does her best to ignore the rush of blood his words bring, the anger bubbling up from deep within. Where does he get off on saying shit like that, making accusations?

The fact that he even thinks such a thing about her cuts deeper than any knife. She would never do anything to hurt Bucky. If anything, she’s been the most supportive out of the group. It sure as hell isn’t Steve sitting up late, watching movies and distracting the ex-assassin when the voices in his head get to be too much. “Excuse you, Steve, but you have no right to talk about this. You don’t know shit about what’s going on between us, and even if you did, you should know I would never do anything to hurt him. Where have you been these past few months when he can’t sleep?”

His frown, if anything, grows even more severe, the tick of his jaw evidence enough that he’s getting agitated. The blue of his eyes burn like ice. His refusal to rise to her bait sets her teeth on edge. “Anyway, Bucky knows what this is,” Y/N grits, fingers tight around the porcelain of her mug while in her mind she’s pretending it’s the captain’s stupidly thick neck. “We have an agreement, not that it’s any of your business.” “Do you?” A critical brow raises, leveling her with a look that sends her stomach plummeting, sweat beading her brow as she’s forced to hang onto every word that comes out of his mouth next. “I’ve been friends with Bucky for a long, long time,” Steve says. “Childhood friends. And even then, he doesn’t treat me half as good as you.”

She scoffs, shifting as an uncomfortable sensation zips down her spine.

“I mean it, Y/N. He doesn’t bring me coffee and a pastry from halfway across town just because they’re my favourite. So maybe you should take a step back, think about why he does that for you but not me and what that might mean.”

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

Strong fingers wrap around her wrist.

Turning, Y/N looks back, focusing on the slant of his nose to avoid looking into those ocean eyes. “Did you need something, Bucky?” Sweat prickles at her temple. The shackle of his hand burns her flesh. She fights the urge to pry off the uncomfortable touch. The lines of his face are soft, open, his mouth a gentle curve. “Can I come by tonight?” “Um, probably not.” Swallowing roughly, she ignores the stroke of his thumb along the back of her hand, stitching together an unsteady smile. Her stomach flips, her feet shuffle. “Tasha wanted a girl’s night…”

The super soldier’s smile dims. “Oh, well you guys have a good time,” he says, wooden and stiff. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, Beautiful.”

“Ah, mhm, yeah, see you.” She does not run, she walks briskly to her room. The door slams closed behind her back with a finality that rings through the silent hall, Bucky left staring at her retreating back.

The walls are caving in, heart and mind racing a mile a minute. She doesn’t know what to do, which direction to turn. Everything’s gotten significantly more complicated than she expected. With trembling fingers, Y/N manages to tap out a scattered text to the only one she trusts to keep this on the down low. Not even 10 minutes later, Tasha’s lounging across her bed, watching with lazy eyes as Y/N paces the length of her room. “Y/N, I don’t see what the problem is. Bucky’s clearly into you, and you’re into him. You’re just too chicken shit to do anything about it.” She holds nothing back, examining her cuticles while her friend and teammate has a melt down. “This would all be solved if you just DTR.” “No, Tasha.” Flopping down next to the redhead, Y/N groans into her comforter. “You don’t get it. There’s no relationship to define. He knows what this is.” “Does he?”

“Jesus Christ! I text him when I want him to eat my pussy, that’s it, that’s all it’ll ever be.” She raises a critical brow. “What about all the cuddling, the kissing, the gifts?” She smirks, eyes glittering coldy. “Does he sleep over?” The silence is damning. “When are you going to stop fucking around and actually talk to him about all of this?” Tasha sighs, reaching over to run her thin fingers through Y/N’s hair. “All you’re doing is making things worse for the both of you.” Turning into the touch, Y/N soaks up the attention, curling tighter into a ball. “That is never going to happen because there’s absolutely nothing to talk about.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #fic teaser

228 notes · View notes