#First time posting a fic on Tumblr

[jigsaw1974]

Some Angsty Lawrence :)

//// Warning for non graphic major character death and hurt/no comfort

//// Chainshipping!!!

//// A03 Link under the cut

Lawrence was alone. Like all things, he was alone.

Lawrence was alone. Like all things, he was alone

He was alone even when he laid in bed, next to the warm body of his wife. He was alone even when they were joined in the most intimate of ways.

He was alone as he held Diana for the first time. There was joy in his heart, a fussy bundle of life and proof that Lawrence Gordon was more than just a name.

He shouldn't have been alone then, he should have felt happy, and he was. But his heart was still cold and aching for something that he didn't understand.

He was alone even as he bought those hotel rooms. And when he spent the night with a girl that wasn't the one he had vowed himself to, he was still alone. He was a heartless man, nothing would please him.

He was alone as he watched his patients cry and sob into the arms of the others in the room. He always left, hoping to leave before that happened, because it was just too much to watch. He didn't understand it.

The connection.

He was alone with every single thought that carved its way into his brain. Every cruel word and comment, every impulse eating away at him.

He was alone in that parking lot, where he saw the flash of a light. He was alone when he was kidnapped and bound, and when he passed out.

And then he wasn't alone, at least not in the same sense. There was another boy with him, snarky and annoyed, he made Lawerence want to bash his head against the wall.

But he wasn't alone, even when the other boy lied and lied to him, when he admitted to stalking him. It felt nice to be known. To know this boy knew him even if he didn't return the same knowledge.

He wasn't alone as he muffled his screams and groaned at the feeling of the hacksaw cutting and ripping and tearing through his flesh and bone.

He wasn't alone, the other boy's screams surely reminded him of that. He definitely wasn't alone when he shot the gun, for some reason.

He doesn't know why. He regretted it, pulling the trigger, but he felt helpless. It was scary, being known. But also comforting. Even in this, literally, shitty bathroom.

He wasn't alone as Adam cried and clutched to his shirt. To his skin. As Adam begged him not to leave him. He wasn't alone then, the mix of their blood and tears, the feeling of the concerningly cold skin against his reminded him of that fact.

He made a promise, he tried to keep it. He didn't want to be alone again, he didn't want to go back to that empty feeling.

He wanted Adam. He wanted Adam to know him. In every sense of the word.

He wasn't alone as he dragged his own bloody body out of that bathroom, trying hard not to give up at the pain of both the broken flesh and the screams of the only one who has ever known him.

He wasn't alone as John Kramer saved him, promised to heal him, and congratulated him for surviving.

Years later, when Lawrence dragged Hoffman's body into the bathroom, and chained it up, he saw the rotting corpse of Him. Him, who knew him.

He tried not to think about it, tried to ignore the cold seeping back into his bones, and into his skull.

He made sure to take the hacksaw away from the still alive man chained up, he wouldn't give Mark the opportunity to escape. He slammed the door, locking both the apprentice and the only one who knew him shut in that metal cage of a room.

The screaming sounded just like his. Just like Adam's. Less pained though, more angry.

Lawrence was alone again, he supposes he always has been. He left his only chance at being warm, rotting in that bathroom.

Maybe he had always meant to be alone, to never be known. Maybe Adam was just a glimpse at the world he could have had.

The world was cruel, and Lawrence was cold. He was alone, and he always will be, until his rotting corpse is lowered into the ground in a cage of wood.

Adam never got that, he'd never get the comfort of the earth around him.

It wouldn't be comfort for Lawrence either. It'd be yet another place where he was alone. Where he'd be alone forever.

Also posted on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51620875

[orangesunsets12]

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Stranger Things

No Romantic Relationships

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Vomiting, Headaches and Migraines

Summary: Steve didn't escape the Russians, and they still refuse to believe the truth. Steve has been in a lot of bad situations, but never one like this.

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

“Please, please, please, I’m telling the truth, please!” 

Steve’s voice was loud but pained as he pleaded with the soldier and doctor who faced him, deadly medical tools seen in the doctor’s hands. He could see another syringe, exactly like before, and more panic rose in his chest. 

His arms and chest were bound tightly to a chair, blood seeped from the fresh cut on his forehead and his broken nose. His left eye stung, becoming harder and harder to keep open. 

They came closer, cruel grins on their faces, and Steve strained to get away from them.

“No! No more drugs! Please!” 

“Will you tell the truth?” The soldier in the fancy suit, who looked like the general, asked, “Or will you tell more lies?”

“I am telling the truth! I work at Scoops Ahoy! And didn’t you inject me with that stupid stuff already?”

“Your little escape attempt with your friend Dustin made the serum wear off. We were lucky to find you before you could get away. We don’t like liars, you see.”

Steve felt tears burn behind his eyes as he remembered how close he was to escaping. They were in the mall, just out of the movie theater. He had talked to Robin, and vomited up everything in his stomach, and they were just out the doors.

But, it turned out, running with an injured eye, a possible concussion, and the last bits of drugs in his system wasn’t a good idea. His feet gave out, and no one was fast enough to catch him before the soldiers did. And, he got a bad cut on the head once he was captured, too. He wasn’t having much fun. But, it was just him. Robin couldn’t get hurt. Dustin or Erica couldn’t, either.

At least they were safe. For now.

He watched as the doctor, holding that deadly injection device with the drugs waiting to be inserted into his weak body, approached him.

“Stay still, or this will be more painful than it was the last time. And, you don’t have your girlfriend to protect you now.”

Steve fought harder against the bonds, his body throbbing with every movement, but he wouldn’t let them hurt him again. Why couldn’t they understand? They already know what they need to know! And who would think that, in his sailors costume, he would work for a government or police service?

This wasn’t fair. 

Please don’t. Please. Please.

Please.

Steve felt a hard fist slam into his stomach, and he coughed, his uninjured eye wide with pain and shock. His vision started going dark, and a large, callused hand gripped his chin, tilting his head up. He watched as the general stared at him, his fingers digging into his bloodied skin and the wounds that littered it. 

He began to sob, closing his eyes and hoping, wishing, that all of this would stop, that he could go home, and that everything would stop hurting.

It only got worse.

He screamed in agony as he felt the needle go into his neck, sharp, blinding, and cold. His eyes were pried open, but he couldn’t see anything but the bright lights going blurry. 

“Inject him again, we need the truth.” The man said, and Steve groaned, helpless to what was about to happen again. His eyes drooped closed as soon as they could once more, and he was barely aware of the needle that was injected into his neck, the hands moving from his face and to his hair, holding him up from the locks that looked a lot better earlier.

“Who do you work for?”

“I一Scoops一”

“Lies!”

A sharp slap on the cheek made Steve cough, his head dipping to the floor as soon as he was let go. Blood dripped from his mouth and down his chin, making his outfit even more dirty than it was.

“Scoop…ice cream.” Steve mumbled, spitting on the floor, and howled in anguish when another punch landed on his eye, his chin, and his stomach once more. 

“Please, no more!” He begged, pleading for it to stop. “Make it stop! Please make it stop!”

“Filthy American.” The man said with a laugh, and Steve heard as he walked away, the doctor following him. He couldn’t find anything in him that would be relieved, despite him getting what he wanted. Steve didn’t know what to think about that.

He let himself fall into silence, wanting to save his strength for when he escaped. His whole entire body hurt, but he started to feel a bit…funnier. More talkative. It sort of reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what.

“How many scoops do you want? Three?” He said to the floor, chuckling. He found himself smiling. The Russians would never believe him, believe the truth, his job was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

Steve willed himself to lift his head and rest it against the back of the chair, half expecting to feel Robin behind him. But he didn’t. And that was pretty funny too.

“I’m all alone, sitting in a gray box. Best time of my life.”

It didn’t take long for his hands to start shaking, the tremors catching his eye and making him smile.

“That’s not supposed to happen, is it?”

He didn’t know how long he sat in that chair, entertaining himself with his jokes and smiles, but it didn’t feel like any time at all until the man came back in, seemingly more calm than he was before.

“How are you feeling, my friend?”

“Amazing.” Steve said with a laugh, “How long will I be scooping ice cream for? Is my shift ending any time soon?”

The older man smiled. “If you cooperate, maybe you can get out of here faster than when you were scheduled.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Alright. Where and who are your parents? What’s your full name?”

“My parents? I don’t know, I don’t talk to them.” Another giggle. “They don’t care about me at all.”

The general didn’t flinch. “Oh?”

“Nah, dude. I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Then, what is your name?”

“Steven Connor Harrington. I jus’ go by Steve.”

“Good. Now, Steve, what do you know about this operation?”

Steve looked around as if he hadn’t been in the room before. “It’s…shiny. A bit bright, though”

“What do you know about the gate?” 

Steve opened his mouth to reply, a smart remark already on his tongue, but an alarm started blaring, and the man rushed out of the room, leaving Steve alone once again.

“Bye!” Steve yelled after him, a huge smile on his face. But the smile disappeared as soon as it came, shivers wracking his frail body. He gulped, closing his eyes as he shook. His stomach decided it was time to learn how to do cartwheels, too, and Steve was so sure that he was going to puke. 

It was like he was on a rollercoaster. Rollercoasaters were fun. They didn’t usually give him huge headaches, though.  He had a huge headache right now. How long had he had it for? Was he born with his head hurting like this?

The pain in his head grew worse, and he groaned. Without thinking he leaned over to the floor, dry-heaving, willing the sickness in his stomach to go away. His lunch made an appearance, and maybe his breakfast, too, but that didn’t make him feel any better. He wouldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop hurting, couldn’t feel better. 

He didn’t even realize that he blacked out until he felt someone shaking his shoulder. He could smell a whiff of vomit mixed with blood, but he didn’t have the strength to clean it up, or even get out of the chair.

“Kid! Are you with me?” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Was it his dad? Had he finally come back to take care of him? Was his mom here, too? Maybe she could help him. They both could. 

“M’head hurts” Steve mumbled, his throat dry, and he felt a gentle but rough hand gently grab his neck, holding his head upright. Steve didn’t even realize that it fell back down to the chair. 

Wait. Wasn’t Robin there with him? Where was she? Did they take her?

“Rob’n. Where’s Rob’n?”

He opened his eyes, the world spinning in nauseating circles, but he could barely make out Hopper kneeling in front of him, the older man’s face the definition of worry. 

“Steve. Robin’s okay. She’s safe, they all are. But, we need to get you out of here.”

“I don’t think一I一”

“You can do it, I’ll help you. Your bonds are already untied, all we have to do is get you to your feet. Can you do that?”

Steve glanced down at his bonds weakly, which were on the floor, cut. 

“Oh.”

“Steve一”

“I was actually having fun.” He blurted out, and Hopper looked even more concerned. “I was also working at Scoops Ahoy, because that’s where I work. M’right, right?”

“Yeah, you work at that ice cream place, but let’s not focus on that, okay?”

Steve groaned as Hopper lifted him up, his wounds and injuries protesting at the movement. Hopper carried him bridal style out of the building and into the hallways. He let his eyes drift close, his grip on reality releasing with every step Jim took. He could feel other hands touch him, worried tones echoing above and below him, and he couldn’t help but listen. 

He soon felt a soft surface under him, soft hands carding through his hair, and he melted into the embrace, a pathetic whine emerging from his throat. 

“Honey, honey, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

“You’re going to be okay, dude, you’re one of the best fighters I’ve seen. Even though you’ve lost a lot of fights, you’re not so bad at it.”

“Stay with us, Dignus.”

A smaller hand grabbed his own, and Steve squeezed it as hard as he could, not sure who it was or what was going on. He might’ve still been in the room, or at Scoops Ahoy, or still with the needle pressed into his skin, but at least he wasn’t alone. 

Something told him that he was never alone. 

[cloudedgalaxies]

Three Nights Remain

Leona Kingscholar loves sleep more than anything else in Twisted Wonderland. So he is determined to continue sleeping all through the night when he has to host two freshmen crashing in his dorm for taking a rather stupid deal he had nothing to do with. It wasn't his problem.

Yet for some absurd reason, the three nights that the prefect stays in Savanaclaw, he doesn't get a wink.

Second Choice, Last Place

(part one) (part two) (part three) (read on AO3)

Word count: 4.5k

The moment Leona saw one of his freshmen bringing the herbivore and the weasel into his dorm, he knew that it was going to be trouble for him. He tried to avoid it as much as he could. Anything that didn’t involve him wasn’t his business, and wasn’t about to become his when it meant more work added to his plate he kept purposefully empty.

But here he was, watching his dorm get humbled by that very same freshman and strange package deal, where one wasn’t anything more than a pipsqueak and the other didn’t have a drop of magic in him. Here he was, finding that strangely enough, the person he thought would be dead last in a fight seemed oddly good at throwing down when the need arose.

Here he was, in his room, with two extra freeloaders on his couch that were much too loud and much too foolish for his taste, if they had gotten into a situation dire enough that forced them to stay here of all places. “Thank you again for letting us stay here,” the prefect said, as he made sure for the umpteenth time that his and Grim’s bags weren’t taking up any more space than they had to like a good little student.

Leona just hummed, making himself comfortable on his bed. “Don’t make me regret it.” Out of all the reactions that could have gotten out of him, the herbivore laughed. It made Leona crack open an eye to peer at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Yuu sighed as he shrugged out of his uniform jacket, still trying to be as unimposing as possible as he draped it over his bag. “Usually I’m the one regretting things. Like this deal, for example.”

“Getting cold feet now?” Leona taunted, almost more a leer than a real question. He couldn’t help but smirk just a little. “You made your bed, herbivore. Now you gotta lay in it.”

Yuu huffed lightheartedly, the faintest hint of a smile etched on his lips. “Grim’s already taken care of that, I’m afraid.” He looked down at where the thing was already conked out, spread out on enough of the couch that it’d be a pain for the freshman to fit, too. Maybe that was the reason why he sighed, glancing down at bare wrists revealed by scrunched-up sleeves. “You wouldn’t happen to have a first-aid kit, would you?” he asked, that smile turning into something of a frown.

Another hum, as Leona eyed him through the slit he had to see through. “Didn’t know the herbivore was so easy to knock around.” He didn’t look all that beat up, but Leona could smell the tang of metallic blood in the air. Somewhere, skin had been broken. Wherever it was, he did a good job of hiding it, he’d give him that.

Maybe Leona was being a little mean. Something in him paused when the prefect’s eyes flickered, a dimmer thing flashing in them. “Didn’t know the lion took such pride in playing with his prey,” he shot back, making Leona’s second eye open as his eyebrow raised. “What a catch I am. ‘Doe-eyed and dimwitted,’ I think you put it. You must be flaunting me to everyone who’d listen as your best hunt.”

So the herbivore still had guts, even after facing beastmen full of snarling teeth and crackling spells. Leona smirked this time, tail flicking from where it was next to him. “Finally decided to drop that little act of respect, huh?”

Yuu grinned back, something twisted and dark and just evil enough to make Leona wonder if this frosh was really as out of place in this school as he originally thought. “Not at all.”

Doe-eyed, dimwitted and cheeky, he mentally added, a little more amused than he should’ve been to find out that the prefect had claws beyond just physical fights. “If I got anything, it’d be in the bathroom,” Leona finally said, trusting he wasn’t blind enough not to miss the door.

“Thank you very much, Housewarden Kingscholar.” He almost didn’t let the laugh that got out of him be anything more than another hum, but it did when Yuu somehow schooled his features to look as prim and proper as physically possible. He didn’t know how to feel about it. He could be asleep and yet here he was, laughing at some forgettable freshman’s joke.

Leona decided he’d sleep now, letting his eyes shut again. It wasn’t his problem that he had been foolish enough to make a contract with the cephalo-punk, and it wasn’t going to be. The only thing that he would contribute and take from this was a temporary lodging and a new, equally temporary servant. 

But then little noises kept coming from beyond the wall—clinking and ripping and the shuffling of clothes—and he found that it was enough of a distraction to keep him awake. “Knock it off,” he called with a lazy snarl, turning onto his side. There were days that he didn’t mind his heightened senses, and then there were nights like now, when he almost wished he was as deaf as a human so that he could get to rest.

“Sorry. I’m almost done.” Leona’s ear swerved as he picked up something else. A faint gasp, the sharp inhale of a hiss. He felt a growl rising in his throat when he heard it, though he didn’t know quite what it was directed at. Irritation that he was still awake, he decided on, when another of those breaths were sucked in.

Leona dragged himself off his bed, stalking over to the doorframe. Yuu almost jumped when he saw him, making a little flash of predatory satisfaction run through the housewarden. It was accented with the smell of blood, sharper now, since the wound was exposed to the fresh air instead of covered like before. It was a gash on his arm, still weeping a thin stream of scarlet.

It wasn’t just that one place, he realized, when his eyes slid to the hand gingerly letting his bunched-up shirt fall again. There was a bandage already on his abdomen and a bruise budding on his hip, only the very edge visible from where it dipped below his pantline. Leona supposed if he looked closer, took in a deeper breath, he’d find hints of even more blood and blue on his body.

That growl returned. “You really are easy to rough up,” he scowled, eyes smoldering as he looked at the prefect. Yuu averted his for a moment, but then thought better of it, staring right back with a face that said how unafraid he was. Leona’s glower grew. He was too bold for his own good.

“I’ve managed just fine until now,” the herbivore reminded, going back to his wounds as though Leona was nothing but a shadow on the wall. He didn’t make a sound when he dabbed some sort of ointment on the cut, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle it. But Leona still caught the faint scent of pain, something just as sharp and thick as though he was feeling it himself. If he looked close enough, he could see the way the herbivore’s eyes squinted, in annoyance and exhaustion and a list of other things Leona didn’t want to list, because he shouldn’t be thinking about it anyways.

What a pain. 

Yuu opened his mouth as Leona stepped closer, undoubtedly about to shoot another quip at him, but he stopped when he noticed that the housewarden had swiped a roll of bandages, ripping off just enough to wrap around his injury. His wrist was thin, Leona found himself musing when he felt the way Yuu’s heart skipped and thudded from his vein. It was almost impossible to see what he really looked like, thanks to the uniform that was at least three sizes too big for him, but even then, he wasn’t nearly as brawny as he’d imagined, to be able to take on the number of his dorm members he had and win. Then again, he would have to be small, to avoid the spells that seemed to follow him like fire streaking through dried grass.

He didn’t say anything, even as Leona tied the bandage ends together, keeping it there to cover the slice on his skin. “Thank you,” Yuu finally murmured, when Leona dropped his hands and leaned back, eyeing him a bit more. He really was puny. He couldn’t imagine that he’d be close to a filling snack to the menaces that were the Leech twins, let alone himself.

“Just stop making noise.” Yuu sighed, but the hints of a smile were on his face. Leona almost scoffed at it. The prefect started to put back together the supplies, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into his face back again. That was when he saw it, able to look at it without distractions like other people or fights that he’d started. 

Leona had known that Yuu got hurt from when he’d overblotted, but he had never been able to see just exactly what he’d done. It was the first time he was seeing it from so close up—taking in the claw marks that spread from the side of his head to the corner of his jaw, still red and still fresh, even though the tournament had been some time ago now. With how big and long the four scratches were, Leona was almost surprised that the herbivore still had an ear on that side. But miraculously, it was still there, only with a few nicks and tears to speak of. 

It was healing as nicely as it could, but even so, it would no doubt hurt like no one’s business if it was put in saltwater—like the very sea he was going to dive into. That silent growl returned, but now Leona knew what it was directed at. 

“You’re staring,” the prefect mused, not looking over at him as he crouched to put the kit away. “I’m done now, I promise. You can go back to sleep.”

He felt something whisper inside him, like mounds of sand were forming to weigh him down. “Change into something else,” Leona grumbled, despite the way something putrid covered his tongue like rotten meat. “Your shirt’s bloody.”

The prefect blinked, and it almost looked like he was noticing that for the first time when he caught sight of the crimson stain on its front. Leona fought the urge to make that growl audible. “I don’t really have anything else,” he admitted, looking a little embarrassed as he did.

Of course he didn’t. Whether that was because the eels didn’t give him enough time to pack, or he just never had enough clothes in the first place, Leona didn’t know. He sighed either way, feeling the telltale drag of drowsiness start to pull him back to his bed. If he didn’t get to go back to it within a few minutes, he’d be angry. “Take something of mine then,” he ended up saying, trying to make this go faster so that he could get to sleep earlier.

“Are you sure?”

Leona just eyed him in return. “Anyone with half a sense of smell in this dorm would catch a whiff of it. They’d be on you in seconds if they knew it was from you.” 

It wasn’t a lie. The members of Savanaclaw were more feral than they should be some days, and it ended badly for anyone who was foolish enough to show their weakness off for others to exploit. If they knew that Leona was housing a wounded defect instead of just a defect, things would get bad for the both of them.

Only, he wasn’t either of those things. Leona didn’t know what to think as he watched Yuu tentatively open his closet while he stalked back to his bed, taking out the first shirt he thought Leona wouldn’t mind him wearing. This was a person—a herbivore—that had somehow taken him on at his stupidest, weakest, but still most powerful moment, something that he still didn’t know all the details of and didn’t want to, and won. Out of everyone in this school, Leona could count the people who were capable of that on one hand.

And yet, he still got pushed around like he was the weakest in the pride, beaten and used like a chew toy. Every time Leona had seen it, when those little spats had taken place in the botanical gardens for whatever reason, he had seen how the prefect had never fought back. He just defended himself with a look of set grimness on his face, and once his assailants were satisfied, he just went back to his day like they did. Maybe it was because he didn’t have magic. Maybe it was for some other reason, but all Leona knew and cared to know was that that was the way of the world. Those not favored were always second choice, and those not gifted were always last place.

Leona’s eyes narrowed as the prefect reappeared again, gently scooting Grim away for him to have enough space to curl up. Except, he didn’t. He reached down for his bag, pulling out a stack of documents thick as Leona’s wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, a snarl in his voice. It was too far past when he should have been asleep. It was too far past when the prefect should have been asleep, if Leona cared, but now he was starting yet another thing to keep them awake.

Yuu gave him a smile. Even in the dim light, Leona could see how it was strained, speaking of how desperately he wanted to drift off, too. “You can turn off the light. I won't disturb you.”

“That’s what your words are sayin’, but that’s telling a different story,” Leona countered, shooting an icy look at the papers. There was no reasonable way that a freshman should have that much of anything, homework or dorm responsibilities or anything else. 

He didn’t put them away, much to Leona’s annoyance. He couldn’t read the text on it from his position, so he couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion about it when Yuu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “They have to get done by the end of the week,” was all he told Leona, an apologetic tone woven into his voice. Leona met it with an unimpressed stare. “Pretend I’m not here. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

Leona’s eyes narrowed. Yuu tried to give him a sheepish smile, and that was finally the thing that made Leona relent, rolling his eyes as he let his head fall on his pillows. “You’d better be.” The last thing the prefect did before Leona made the light go out with a wave of his hand was put a finger to his lips, already displaying how silent he could be.

It wasn’t his problem, and it wasn’t his mess to clean up. So Leona let his eyes close, nestling just a little further into his bed to get comfortable. But he found himself keeping his ears alert, pricked and swerved just the right way to pin down the herbivore’s every noise. He really was quiet, Leona would give him that—the only thing he could pick up for the most part, even with his inhuman hearing, was the faint scribble of a pen and the occasional louder exhale of a weak sigh. 

At one point, there was something a little off. The air changed in a way Leona couldn’t quite place, making everything smell and sound and feel different. Then there was the sound of a cork uncapping a bottle, a whispered swallow, the rustling of a jacket as something was taken out or put back into his bag. Everything changed to normal a few seconds later, as though the strange abnormality had never happened. Leona chalked it up to his half-asleep state playing tricks on him, when he wasn’t quite sure what was real and what wasn’t.

But the sounds continued. Every time Leona thought that he was finally done, as a silence dragged out for long enough that he felt himself slipping into complete sleep, something would always break it. The resuming of writing on paper, or a little murmur so breathy Leona couldn’t even call it a whisper.

Finally at his wit’s end, Leona let his scarred eye open, peering through the night to catch a glimpse of the herbivore. He doubted that the prefect had moved from his position in all the time they’d spent in darkness. If he had, Leona couldn’t tell—he still was hunched over his papers, pen moving as though it were the last thing keeping the world from ending. He’d gotten through a good portion of it, at the very least. The stack at his feet that Leona assumed were the finished ones was thicker than he’d expected it would be, especially when he could hardly see in the dark as well as Leona could. Efficiency seemed to be one of his strong suits, if nothing else.

Yuu stopped as he finished the sheet he’d been working on, staring down at the ones on the ground with a dull look in the eyes that otherwise glowed like two ghostly blue stars. Leona could practically hear the gears turning in the herbivore’s head, screaming and clicking from the lack of oil rest would give them. And then he stopped, listening to his mind's pleas by joining the two stacks together before storing them back in his bag. Leona breathed a sigh. 

Only for the prefect to pull out another stack of papers. 

Enough was enough. “What,” Leona hissed, making Yuu jump at how a single emerald fire was aimed at him from the dark, “are you doing.”

“My homework,” he answered, too surprised to lie. It took another snarl from Leona to finally make Yuu come to his senses, albeit if he had any. “I thought you were asleep.”

“You can see just how right you are, can’t you?” Leona could hear the way Yuu’s breath hitched when he lifted his head, raising up to glare at the freshman. “Wasn’t that other stack it?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No. That was— that wasn’t.” Yuu seemed scared. Good. It reflected in his eyes as Leona sat up further, silently demanding a better answer out of him. “They’re from the headmage,” he admitted, fidgeting with his hands under the housewarden’s smoldering gaze.

“‘Course they are.” It almost sounded like Leona wasn’t convinced, with the venom starting to seep into his voice. He was more surprised that the birdbrain would trust a job like that to a freshman with no place in the world and no magic to his name. Maybe that was exactly why, he realized, as he remembered that Crowley was the reason why the herbivore had even been investigating him in the first place.

It clicked then, what Yuu's role was in everything. Of course—he was someone unnoticeable and disposable. And Leona’s anger surprisingly changed to a new target, as he recognized just how little say the student in front of him had in anything. But no one in the room had to know about that. “Put them away,” he ordered, giving the papers such a heated look it wouldn’t be surprising if they spontaneously combusted. Yuu opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt argue with him, but Leona stopped it with another hair-raising snarl. “Now.”

Yuu gave him a look that only seemed half-annoyed, with how worry and fear was taking up the rest of his brainpower. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop talking.” Yuu immediately listened, closing his mouth without another word. So now he had some common sense. “Lay down ‘n sleep,” Leona told him, narrowing his eyes more for every second that passed where he didn’t. “I’m not askin’, and I’m not saying it again.”

Leona watched with eyes that didn’t miss a thing as Yuu did as he said, making sure there was no way for him to worm his way out of it again. Maybe he should start calling the herbivore the weasel instead of the pipsqueak, he thought with an almost sarcastic tone. He was small and slippery enough to be one.

Finally, the freshman seemed like he was done. So Leona laid back down again, hoping for sleep at last. “Sorry,” the herbivore mumbled, not-quite-quiet enough for Leona to miss. 

His eyes opened again from where they had almost closed shut, feeling those sand dunes press down on his chest again.  “Go to bed,” he answered, in a voice that was not quite as harsh as before. 

The prefect shifted one more time, readjusting the blanket draped over his body for one final last noise of the evening. “Good night.” 

Leona sighed, forcing himself to stop staring at the ceiling and listening to the prefect. Some sleep he was getting.

Once Yuu and his gang of freshmen disappeared from campus, Leona returned to his room instead of his regular spot in the botanical gardens. He’d been tipped off by the herbivore’s frantic studying to know that there were going to be one too many classes there for him to stomach, so he returned to his room instead, peacefully and blissfully quiet without his two extra roommates.

And yet, he did not sleep. For some strange reason, Leona dug through his possessions, without rhyme or reason, trying to remember where it was that Ruggie told him he’d stored a particular group of stuff. Of course, he’d been falling asleep, so he hardly remembered what the sophomore had said to him. At the time, Leona hadn’t cared in the slightest, but he supposed he was a little ticked off at his past self now, when he’d rummaged through enough places and thrown enough things around that he wanted to just stop and get in his afternoon nap.

Then, finally, in the last few seconds Leona had grumbled to himself he’d spend doing this, he found it, left to gather dust in a box in an unused room. Anyone without magic or muscle would have been doomed to get buried in all the discarded things, which was why Leona had held off looking in there until he was completely sure that was the only place it could be. It really was for the best that Yuu and Grim roomed with him, Leona found himself thinking, before he threw the thought out of his head.

He’d done more than enough for today, Leona decided. So he haphazardly threw it onto one of the many piles of things scattered amongst his floor and slunk back to his bed, hoping to catch a few winks before Ruggie came looking for him for lunch.

No one at this school pulled any punches, Yuu found, even for those younger and weaker than them. Any other day, under any other circumstances, she would have respected that. But now, when she was tired and cold and sore, Yuu just wanted to go back to her moth-eaten bed and let the world crumble around her.

“You’re not done yet,” Ruggie chimed, noticing how Yuu and Grim were about to fall back onto Leona’s couch and pass out, even though it was littered with mess. “We gotta clean, then you can conk out.”

Of course. Yuu sighed, grabbing Grim by the scruff to pick him up again and set him on the ground, too tired to speak. “This feels messier than last night,” she mused despite herself, knowing it was probably a little rude, but exhaustion removing her filter.

“It always seems that way when it’s your job to clean up.” Yuu hummed, grabbing any and all laundry nearby to throw in the hamper. If nothing else, she could try to be quick. Then she could get to the mountain of paperwork she still needed to do, between her homework and the papers Crowley had assigned to her.

The last few rays of sun trickled in through his balcony, and Yuu couldn’t help but pause for a second, watching the great ball of fire descend to the horizon. She only had two more days to achieve the impossible. It would have been difficult enough with a month, but with only three sunsets given to her, Yuu had half the mind to just curl into a ball and let herself give up.

But she couldn’t. Yuu wasn’t the only one standing to lose something now. It was the mess she’d told her friends she’d help them get out of, so it was her burden to bear. Yuu sighed, rolling her shoulders to hopefully shake some of the aching soreness in them from swimming the entire day, and got back to work. Leona did nothing but watch with half-lidded eyes, lazily following their movements as the two of them cleaned while Ruggie oversaw.

Once the rest of the room was devoid of things haphazardly tossed around, Yuu moved onto Leona’s desk, seeing that there was clutter still near its surroundings. She hadn’t meant to pry, but when she carefully took the blanket that was draped over the table into her hands, folding it absentmindedly, her eyes dragged across the words of the opened book below.

And then they widened. “Leona,” she called, feeling a spark of hope ignite in her for the first time in weeks, “are these your textbooks?”

His eyes had closed, and they did not reopen at her query. “What’s it matter?”

It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no, either. “Could I borrow them for tonight?” Yuu asked, glancing down at Grim when he made his way over. Hopefully he didn’t miss the silent plea she’d given him to start reading, just in case Leona suddenly got up and snatched them away.

Not that he'd do that. Or maybe he would. After last night, Yuu wasn’t really sure where his boundaries were in what did and didn’t make him mad. But the housewarden just hummed, not bothered enough to give her a proper answer. It wasn’t a no. “Thank you,” she breathed, taking them in her hands as though they were the most fragile glass and bringing them back to her makeshift bed.

“You’re still doin’ homework?” Grim exclaimed, the hint of disapproval in his voice. “We’re not even goin’ to class, minion. There’s no point.”

“We’ll still have to learn the material,” she countered, only half present in the conversation. The last of her attention on her surroundings disappeared when Ruggie snickered, echoing in her ears like the whispers of sand grains shifting against each other. Maybe tonight, she could finish her homework before such an unreasonable hour.

And Leona watched through that one hardly-opened eye, as the last of the light disappeared from inside his four walls, and yet the prefect still worked.

[sanjifucker42069]

OPLA!Sanji x Reader - Blowin'

Word Count: 4.6k

I cut down some of the less, y’know, important stuff (the plot lol)

Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), fem!reader, awkward first times, awkward af, the reader is a dipshit. I’m ngl this isn’t one of those cute first time fics where virgin!reader is suddenly a sex goddess, you are legitimately an idiot. As usual, written with a plus size!reader in mind.

Sanji finds out you’re a virgin. You suck his dick. Congrats!

Sanji was going to fucking lose it. Out of all the possible scenarios Sanji never once considered Nami would take you out to a bar to pick up guys. He brooded as he nursed his drink, Zoro rolling his eyes at the display. Sanji just growled. Usopp looked between them.

"How about another round? 'Nother milk Lu? Hey Sanji, why don't you come with me? I saw some hot chicks up at the bar."

Sanji just shook his head brooding. He looked to where you stood with Nami, laughing at some guy's jokes. He felt stupid at how jealous he felt.

"Hey, Sanj, man. Nami isn't gonna reciprocate y'know?" Usopp offered lightheartedly. Zoro scoffed from next to him. 

"It's not about Nami for once."

---

When Sanji's eyes found you again he saw you alone with the same guy, nursing a drink. Now that Nami was gone he could see the atmosphere had changed, you didn't seem happy like before. He watched as the guy said something and you shrugged halfheartedly. The guy then proceeded to wrap his arm around you. Sanji had known you long enough to see how uncomfortable you looked. Anger flared in his chest. The final straw was seeing the guy trying to tug you out of the booth to leave. You looked so defeated, it hurt. He began stalking his way to your booth.

"C'mon sweetcheeks, let's leave this dump."

"I'm good thanks, I should get back to my friends."

"I already told you bitch, we're going. I didn't spend all this time fucking around to go home empty handed. You're lucky I even stayed once your hot friend left. I'm doing you a favour, so hurry the fuck up."

"No, I really don't want to." You began, the man snarled, grabbing your wrist.

"It wasn't a question. You owe me. I don't go for ugly, but a hole's a hole, and from the back you're probably passable."

You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment. This whole trip was a bad idea. You wish Nami would come back. As the man tugged on your wrist harder you heard that gorgeous voice ring out. You tried to hide your face so Sanji wouldn't see the tears in your eyes. That last thing you wanted was for the crew to think you're weak.

"That's no way to win hearts Sunshine. So uncouth, and frankly, disgusting behaviour."

"Who the fuck are you? How about you mind your own business?"

"And watch such a beautiful lady be treated that way?"

"Beautiful lady my ass. The only thing you can know for sure about girls like this is that their pretty pussy is untouched." The man barked out a laugh causing you to wince. He snaked his other arm to cup your breast over your dress. You saw something flash in Sanji's eyes. "And I know I'm gonna really enjoy these."  

You squirmed, before biting the man. He howled in pain, releasing his hold on you. You quickly made your escape, rushing to cling to Usopp and Luffy, crying. You felt pathetic. Embarrassed that all eyes were on you.

Sanji saw red. You blinked back tears as you called out to him. Sanji was protective of all of you, but he seemed especially so of you. You knew it was because he saw you as some kind of little sister. "It's okay Sanji. Really, let's just go home. Please."

"No." He fixed the drunk man with a freezing gaze. "You dare touch someone so out of your league? I asked you nicely to piss off, but now I'm going to fucking kill you."

Before you could react Sanji had kicked the man in the chest. You watched as he began ruthlessly kicking and stomping the man, muttering profanities and sentences you couldn't understand. With a final stomp he huffed. Zoro finally pried Sanji away. You saw Nami returning, fuming. If you weren't so traumatised by the night you would have laughed at how Zoro pried Nami away too, holding the two brawlers by the scruff as they fought against it, looking like wet cats.

You don't remember how you got home. You remember Usopp covering you in his coat and dragging you out of the bar. You remember apologising to Usopp, crying that you needed to go back. The last thing you remember was Luffy running to join you, scooping you up and starting the walk back to the Going Merry, you, falling asleep in his rubbery arms.

---

"Ah my dear, you're finally awake. I made you something to eat."

You smiled tightly at him, thanking him. The way you played with your food tugged at his heartstrings. You looked so mournful. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards on it, gripping the backrest. 

"C'mon lovely, don't make me have to feed you myself." He winked. Your lips twitched upwards performatively. Sanji frowned. "Look (name) about last night-"

"I'm sorry."

Confusion. "What?"

You cringed inward. "I'm....I'm sorry I ruined everyone's night."

"You didn't ruin anyone's night, that good for nothing prick did. Don't understand why you'd even go for a guy like that to be honest." He added bitterly. You frowned.

"I wouldn't normally. Everything moved so fast. He seemed nice...It was too late before I realised it's because he wanted Nami." Silence. "Once Nami left, I, well, I didn't want to cause a scene."

"So, what? You were just going to let him take advantage of you?"

You jolted, shocked. "No! No, I- there was no way he was going to-” 

“(Name), love, I know you can be a bit naive but-”

Your voice was small. “He said so himself! He..." you trailed off. "He didn't 'go for ugly girls'. And besides…he was right."

Sanji frowned, angry at the world. How could anyone make you believe that you weren't beautiful? That you didn't deserve some guy trying to take advantage of you? He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve

“There's no such thing as an ugly girl (name), and if there was, I can assure you you're not one of them.”

“Not that.” Sanji took in how you winced, trying to make yourself seem smaller.

What?

Sanji felt the wind knocked out of him.

You're a virgin?" He asked, clearly shocked. You bristled with embarrassment.

"Well...yeah, but I understand how it works! It's not such a big deal, I mean...I've just, I've never had the chance."

"Have you ever...y'know, at all? Not even a handy?" You shook your head. He flushed, you were completely pure.

He felt slightly sick at how his perverted thoughts twisted that. He could be your first, ruin you for all other partners. He could be the one to take your innocence. His cock twitched at the thought. Shame flooded him. You were his friend, his, admittedly, very cute friend. He shouldn't be thinking about you this way. His mind was racing with all the obscene thoughts he'd ever had, the deviant things he dreamed of. He was disgusting. You were too innocent, he'd felt guilty before, but now he felt like he was defiling you just by thinking about you.

You took his silence as pity and pointedly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.

"It's not like I don't want to. I do. But, ugh, it's so silly...no one has ever shown any interest. I'm not exactly a goddess like Nami."

"Darling, I don't believe no one has ever shown interest." He offered a smile. Gods if you only knew how badly he ached for you. How hard you made him. Now wasn't the time for him to blow your friendship over him thinking with his dick. You were being vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity Sanji. It's okay. You don't have to give me the 'everyone's beautiful in their own way' speech. There's more to me than my lack of experience! I'm a good fighter! I have talents, I don't need to be pretty. Just, sometimes, it'd be nice.". 

This wouldn't do. He had to try to fix this. He took your small hands in his, trying not to lose his breath at how warm they felt. Swinging them lightly, he stared into your eyes.

“You are a beautiful girl, you deserve way better than some kind of bastard like that. Men are pigs (name), you shouldn't trust any of them."

"I trust you."

Sanji froze. You peaked up at him shyly. He looked conflicted, and that caused you to smile sadly, misinterpreting the look. You withdrew your hands, fiddling with them in your lap. "I didn't mean that you should take one for the team Ji, I just meant that, well, I trust you. I don't think you're a pig."

"You shouldn't trust me." He lowered his voice. You stared at him, clearly taken aback. "I'm just as bad."

"No, you-"

"No. I'm an absolute pig darling. You aren't that dense surely."

You frowned. "Sure you flirt a lot with other girls, but that's just you! It's charming, non-threatening. I don't see you acting like-"

"I flirt with you too!" He tried, clearly exasperated. You smiled.

"Exactly! You make cute comments to me, and call me cute things like darling, but you're just naturally flirty."

Sanji groaned. Your smile slowly faltered. Sanji screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not 'just naturally flirty'...I mean, I am, I suppose, but I'm actually trying to flirt with you. I thought you were just being polite, but are you really that dense?"

"I....you are?"

"Are you kidding me?!"

"But, I'm..." You gestured to yourself. "You're more friendly than flirty to me?" 

"You're too innocent, it's not like I could just waltz right up and tell you that I think you're hot, can I?" He bristled. 

You felt electricity surge down your spine. Hot? Sanji thought you were hot? Sanji? 

Sanji took your silence as disgust. "See! That's exactly why I couldn't tell you."

"You think I'm hot?" He nodded. Your grin spread, hurting your blushing cheeks. Your eyes sparkling. "You think I'M hot?!"

"Yes, okay!" He sounded almost angry.

"Sanji, you're gorgeous! I'm too awkward. Too fat. Too plain. I'm not a model or some kind of beauty. And you're telling me someone as handsome as you, thinks I'm attractive!? And I-"

You stopped, really thinking about what he said. "Innocent? I....well I suppose. I'm not that innocent though."

Sanji's nostrils flared. "Not that innocent? Please love! You prance around in those low-cut tops and shorts in front of everyone, thinking that they ain't gonna go ballistic? You're too trusting of men, thinking that we aren't all beasts inside."

You laughed, still riding the high of his praise. Sanji snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen table. "No! It's true. You think someone doesn't see the way your tits look and salivate? You don't think you would make anyone insane? You don't think I got so fucking hard when you told me you're a virgin?"

He froze, blood turning to ice, clearly regretting blurting out that last bit. You stared at him, eyes round with wonder. He avoided your gaze, cringing at what you said next.

"I...I make you hard?".

"I'm sorry (name), that was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean to say that last part." 

"But you did." He felt warm hands prying his open and playing with his fingers. He flitted his eyes up to see your face red, staring at him with your eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "God, I've wanted you to fuck me for ages, and now you're telling me you've actually wanted to this whole time?"

Sanji stiffened, cock twitching. He ached painfully. He felt parched, throat burning. This had to be a joke. "You...what?"

"Yeah. Fuck. I, mean, the clothing was purposeful at first, I wanted you to notice me. I had no idea it was working though, haha!"

"WHAT!?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew? You never noticed I only wore those kinds of clothes when you were around? You never noticed how I tried to cling to you in the kitchen? I just assumed you knew and thought I was gross, so I pulled back." You laughed. "Did you seriously think that because I'm a virgin I can't think sexually?"

"But you've never-"

"You've never said anything raunchy to me like you do to other girls. I thought you saw me as a little sister. It'd be weird if someone you saw like family told you they want to suck your dick."

"Fuck." He hissed. 

"Oh this is too good! Have I been torturing you?" You laughed, running a hand up his arm. "You must be so frustrated."

"You have no idea." 

"I could help you." 

Sanji groaned. "You can't say things like that."

"Oh." You pulled back, back to being timid. Even if it was at his expense, Sanji felt the loss of your confident persona. Fuck he really was a masochist, wasn't he? "I, um, I'd need you to guide me. But if you did want help, I'd like to be the one."

"God, you have no idea what you're doing to me." He heard you giggle lightly. He opened his eyes to see you biting your lip, staring up at him through thick lashes, a blush adorning your chubby cheeks. He throbbed.

"You could show me? I promise I'll be gentle! Please Sanji? Can I pretty please touch your dick?"

Sanji felt like he was going to explode from how cute you were. 

"Fuck. Please."

You squealed in excitement, jumping up from the table, both his arms in hand. He wanted to laugh at how innocent you looked, but instead he felt a lump in his throat. You didn't notice, pulling the seated man into an awkward, crushing hug.

"C'mon! C'mon what are you waiting for? Let's go!" 

"Go where?" He laughed at your eagerness. "In case you haven't noticed darling, we aren't exactly alone."

The way you deflated was comical. What wasn't was the wicked glint that formed in your eyes. Sanji gulped, that was never a good sign. He watched as you quickly dashed out of the kitchen. Sanji looked around, confused. Minutes passed. He got up from the table, moving over to the kitchen island, hiding his lower half behind the counter, lest one of the crew wandered in. He sighed, willing his boner away. 

Bang!

The door flew open. Sanji jumped. There you stood frantically in the doorway. Your hair a mess, breathing heavy, and that wicked glint set on him. He watched as you closed the kitchen door, taking a chair and boarding the door. You grinned, stalking towards him.

No. There's no way.

"We aren't going to be disturbed." You were practically vibrating in excitement.

"What? No. Not in the kitchen. We. Eat. Here." Sanji hissed. You peeked up at him, lip pouting. 

"Please? I'll make sure there's no mess left." You pleaded. 

No mess? Sanji closed his eyes and groaned when he realised what you meant. You were going to be the death of him. When he opened his eyes you were in front of him, staring at him shyly. He startled.

"Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?"

Too far? He wanted to cry. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. He bent down. You grinned. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head, pulling you closer. You tipped your head up. He smiled softly before placing his lips on top of yours.

Your lips locked together like the last piece of a puzzle. You sighed, eyes flitting closed. You pushed further against him, trying desperately to pull him closer. He tasted like cigarettes but you didn't mind, an addictive taste for an addictive man. You wanted more of him. You kissed him feverishly, reluctantly pulling back for air. You stared at the taller man through lidded eyes. He gazed down at you lovingly, a blush high on his cheeks. His blue eyes studied your face closely. 

Sanji laughed as with both hands you pulled his face back for another kiss. His skin was hot, your hands now cold against his cheeks. You tasted sweet and he wanted to devour you so badly. You were too cute. He felt you pull him closer to you. You were kissing and sucking at his lips before you felt it. Sanji bit back a groan, feeling your hips brush against him. He felt pure embarrassment as he heard your breath hitch, pulling away. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a groan as you experimentally pushed your hips against him harder.

"Oh my gods." He heard you whisper against him. He froze. "Oh my gods it's so-"

"We can stop if it's too much dar-LING!"

He squeaked as he felt both your hands rake down his chest, you humming contently as you kept yourself pressed against him. He felt overwhelmed at how eager you were. He'd never had someone so upfront in wanting to touch him. His cocked throbbed. You mewled lightly, causing another throb.

"Oh my god it moves?" You giggled. He cracked a smile back. You were so innocent.

Sanji had made one crucial mistake though. That was thinking that just because you were inexperienced, that meant you would be submissive. He felt you cage him against the countertop, the wood digging into his ass, your hands on him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, the dissonance was making him dizzy. He felt your hands find purchase on his waist. You breathed out a dreamy sigh.

"God your waist is so fucking tiny."

Sanji bristled with embarrassment. He tried to address it without upsetting you. "Love, that's not exactly what I want to hear."

You giggled. "I can't help it, it's so hot. You could kick my ass if you wanted, but holy fuck you're just letting me feel you up. Gods I've seen you fight, I've seen how thick your legs are, but fuck your waist is so little."

Sanji hissed. He'd never experienced anything like this before. Your hands migrated upwards, resting on his pecs. Your slow pace was driving him insane.

"Can I?" You gestured to his shirt.

"Fuck, love, I'd love to, but maybe when we have somewhere more private okay? Don't want to be too unclothed if someone tries to come in. Same with you okay? Don't want anyone to see something so gorgeous." He smiled at you. You nodded your head, practically buzzing at the idea of this happening again. He winked at you. "You could take off something else though."

Sanji was shocked and delighted at how quickly you dropped to your knees. You began playing with his belt, figuring out how the clasp worked. Sanji scrunched his eyes shut. Fuck, you were so eager! He never would’ve expected it to go like this. Despite your eagerness you were so gentle, as if you were afraid of touching him. He was going to prompt you, but instead you softly pulled his zipper down and began drawing the fabric down till it sat mid thigh.

Oh, fuck. There he was, huh?

You looked at his clothed cock, studying It like it was some kind of strange bug. You wanted to laugh at the comparison. Above you Sanji was flushed, embarrassed by your staring. You ran a finger over the bulge. He hissed, his dick jumping lightly. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat. 

"What?"

"It's so cute the way it jumps."

"Maybe this was a mistake."

"No no no! I promise I'll be good. Can I, um... do I?"

"Just...hah...do what you think is right. I'll...correct you."

Sanji let out an undignified squeak as he felt you lightly grab the clothed bulge. You massaged it, feeling what you could, watching with curiosity how the man above you writhed. Exploratively, you moved your hand further back, cupping his balls through the fabric. The friction of the fabric against bare skin was pure torture.

"Oh shit!" Sanji whined. You withdraw your hand like it burnt. "That's, god, that's really sensitive okay? You're killing me sweetheart."

"Sorry." You mumbled, placing a kiss to his bare thigh. The "strange bug" jumped again. You began peppering more kisses to his thigh. Once you reached the inside of his thigh you breathed deeply, he smelt musky, it made your mouth water. Experimentally, you licked the inside of his thigh. Sanji's thigh tensed. You licked upwards in long stripes until you reached the leg of his underwear. You gave a quick moment of hesitation before you blew air over the bulge. Sanji hissed. Smiling, you placed a kiss directly over the top of his bulge. 

"Did you just kiss my dick?"

"Mmhmm. Watch, I'll do it again." You placed an open mouth wet kiss over Sanji's clothed cock. The man above you threw his head back, whining softly. The fabric was dampened with a mix of your spit and something else. You saw how taut the fabric had become. You cooed. "That looks like it hurts." 

Sanji nodded. You looked up at him.

"Can I take them off?"

He shuddered. "Fuck. Please (name)."

With curiosity you began dragging the wet underwear down his hips, settling them at his mid thigh. His musky scent overpowered you, and you watched with fascination as Sanji's cock slapped against his stomach. Looking up at him you saw how tight his eyes were scrunched, knuckles gripping the countertop. You noticed how he shivered lightly at the exposure. Sanji's cock stood, large, imposing, and leaking. You breathed out a curse. It looked gorgeous, just like him, long and lithe. His happy trail led to a neat little patch of dark hair. You salivated. Eyes drawing to your prize, you winced at how red and angry the head looked.

Sanji thought he was going to kill you when he felt you tap his cockhead like a microphone. Instead he bucked his hips away, humiliation colouring his face. "Stop that! I know you don't know what you're doing, but please use your brain dearest." 

You mumbled an apology before rubbing your hands together, trying to warm them. He watched as you wrapped a hand around his dick before moaning lowly. You studied him, absolutely enraptured, as you gave a test pump. The man above you crumbled. 

"Do you always get this way?"

"No." He panted.

"Just for me?" You tried sultry, trying to muster up some quote from a smutty novel you once read. Sanji peeked one eye open before groaning.

"No." His voice was strained, breathing heavy. You tried pumping him, but the rhythm was sloppy. "N-no. You're...it's a lot right now. I'm not used to it being this slow…or clumsy."

"Do you like it?" You looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Unfortunately." He muttered. With a burst of pride you tried pumping him harder. Sanji squealed, grabbing your hand. "Fuck (name), I really need you to spit in your hand. Th-that's painful."

"Oh...sorry." You offered. Sanji watched as you perversely spit in your hand, wrapping the digits back around his cock. You tried setting a rhythm, it was sloppy, but you focused on giving him consistent squeezing pressure. Sanji moaned lowly at the squeezing, hips rocking. 

Soon you reached a steady rhythm. You watched with bated breath before you slowed down. Sanji began to whine from the loss, only to keen loudly as he felt your lips enclose his cockhead. He began spluttering, eyes rolled backwards. He'd take anything right now, fuck he wanted to cum so bad. He sucked in a breath.

"No teeth, okay love?" 

You laughed, the vibrations tickling him in the best way. He moaned, trying desperately to not fuck your face. His eyes were so tightly scrunched.

You slowly forced yourself further down his length, squeezing the base. Sanji swore. You froze, taking a deep breath through your nose. When he didn't stop you, you continued your devotion. 

"Ack!" You choked, throat burning. You felt Sanji's hand patting your head. You retreated off him, coughing.

"Darling don't take more than you can okay. We don't want you to choke now."

You gazed up at him, eyes wet and throat hoarse. "Let me try again!" 

Your raspy voice made Sanji quiver, but the way you looked up at him, absolutely wrecked, made him burn. As quickly as he noticed it, it ended, and you unceremoniously inhaled his cock. He could feel you try to smile. 

"Fuck!" His voice was high as you sucked hard, adding your tongue to flatten against the underside of his cock. "(Name)! Baby, fuck, I-"

"Hey why won't the door open?" Zoro's voice rang through the wood. Sanji stilled, holding your head. The two of you looked at each other frozen. Sanji tried clearing his throat. 

"If you keep making noise out there, I'm gonna explode, Mosshead!"

You snorted, trying hard to not laugh. 'Yeah you're gonna explode,' you inwardly snickered. 

"Whatever shitty waiter." 

Silence. Sanji looked down at you. "Darling, maybe we should stop. It's okay, we can try again another day." He froze at the frustrated look that overtook your features. "Fuck." He whispered.

You sucked harshly causing Sanji to bite his hand hard to avoid screaming. He felt you try swallowing, watched as tears pricked your eyes. You didn't slow down on your work, sucking harshly and hands wandering. You grabbed a fistful of his asscheek, other hand tracing circles on his inner thigh. You felt him tensing, quivering. His hand reached for your neck, trying to coax you off. He was so close.

"Oh god!" Sanji gasped. "Baby I'm gonna cum, you need to hop off-AH!" 

You sucked harder, milking the man through his orgasm. It was like music the way he spluttered and grabbed the back of your head, nails scratching your scalp. You felt hot, thick liquid painting your throat. It wasn't pleasant, but fuck his reactions were. Some dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and Sanji wiped it away with a thumb, a fucked out expression on his features. He pulled his softened cock out of your mouth, and watched, breathless as you swallowed his seed. You made a grimace afterwards causing the man to laugh.

"Was it okay?" You asked, shyness taking over you. 

"You're lucky I don't mind a bit of torture. It was good for a first try." He gave you that flirty grin and a wink. "I think you need more practice though."

You laughed, outstretching a hand so he could help you up. You tried stretching your legs, noting the numb pain in your knees. You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Was I that bad?"

Sanji pulled his underwear and pants back up, zipping his pants closed. He pulled you closer. "Nah, you're just something else entirely. Silly." Kiss. "Torturous." Kiss. "And I am smitten with you."

"We've wasted enough time, better get back to it." You smiled against his lips. 

"I'd love to pay you back."

"Later loverboy, we're gonna have the whole crew in here soon if we don't hurry."

"I'm so glad there's a later."

You winked, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. You stopped, turning to stare at the man.

"For you baby? Always. Oh, can you make souffle?"

"What? Why?"

"I told the guys we were making a souffle and needed the kitchen completely silent."

Sanji laughed. You definitely kept him on his toes.

-----------

I'm not going to lie, some of this is coloured by my first time hahaha! I am an incredibly awkward person, and yes I did also once tell a guy how cute I thought it was when dicks jump. He also told me I was fucked for that ha!

[crispycreambacon]

What Happened After the Filming of Miyamoto Musashi’s Episode

(link should take you to the context)

[getindumdums]

Oh what a great expression, let me trace it for myself- HOW DID I ACCIDENTALLY GIVE HIM A HOT DAD BOD?! He's 52 I swear-

Art Style inspired by Sarah Myer from the TMNT Saturday comics. Panel from the upcoming TMNT multiverse meet up crossover issue.

Edit: I ugh... went back and worked on this.

So... for my Turtles Forever fic “Get in Dum-Dums” I did decide to make the 1987 turtles peewpaws. And it's hilarious. Anyway have some free icons. I may make more, ask me if you'd like a specific flag. They take a bit.

Original:

[mizartz]

The man with his rucksack raises the gun. Danny looks at him, really looks at him, sees his wide eyes and trembling hands and thinks that it serves him right. Danny’s own eyes glow green and bright, blood dripping down his face. “Better make it count,” he snarls.

fanart for close enough to be whole again by @hailsatanacab <3 i am obsessed with this fic!!!

[aphelea]

first time we see alvar he chugs a glass of wine in a sip, talks about his 3 girlfriends and proceeds to call known facts a hoax. truly what a guy

[mintytrifecta]

When Buzz tries to remember the protocol for waking from hypersleep, he remembers that the listed side effects include drowsiness, vertigo, and a hefty amount of pins and needles upon first waking.

What he doesn’t recall is near-blinding soreness in his back and an acute feeling of something wrong. ----

In which Demo Mode!Buzz realizes some things earlier than before, and recruits himself with a ragtag group of toys who claim to know him in their great prison escape.

[unicornpopcorn14]

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.  

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

[thefrogdalorian]

From Now Until The End

Summary: After being away from you as part of his job with the New Republic, your partner Din surprises you with a trip to the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine to make up for it. But instead of the fun-filled day he had planned, you are overwhelmed by the many sights, sounds and noises. It leads you to finally share a part of yourself with Din that you had been hiding from him until now.

Rating: General Content Warnings: Descriptions of panic attacks/sensory overload. Word Count: 5446 Link to read on AO3 // Din x ND reader series

Authors note: After my post a few days ago about finding comfort in Din as a neurodivergent person provoked so many thoughful discussions, this fic just sort of landed in my lap today and I was not one to fight the muse. I really hope you enjoy it!

For the first part of your life, you had believed you were somehow cursed, such was the way bad luck was drawn to you like a womp rat to the sands of Tatooine. How did everything seem so simple for others when nothing ever seemed to go right for you? Had you missed out on some kind of crucial meeting that taught everyone else to be a functional human? Or were you just fundamentally broken? Getting a diagnosis of autism thanks to a knowledgeable healer that you had encountered quite by accident, had finally answered some questions for you and helped you to navigate the galaxy in a different way, allowing yourself far more grace and compassion than you ever had before. But it didn’t make all of your problems instantly vanish.

But your fortunes had changed forever on that fateful day when you had first encountered a man hunting imperial remnants for the New Republic in the course of your work in a Cantina, a job you loathed. He had strode in, seeking information that you had been happy to give him.

You were stunned when he had tried to give you some credits for it, it was just the right thing to do. You had always had a strong sense of justice. Sure, your boss probably wouldn’t be too happy if he had caught you fraternising with customers and conspiring to capture Imps with a Mandalorian, rather than doing your job. Which was, to pour flagons of spotchka and keep the peace. But the man in the shiny Beskar had been the first person in a while who had actually treated you like a fellow human being, rather than something to be leered at and ogled while you brought them more alcohol. You felt instantly at ease with him, the conversation flowing from your lips so naturally that you forgot he was a stranger. And you were usually so wary of strangers. To be as open as you were with him so quickly, it was clear that there was something special about this man.

People were usually wary of Mandalorians, they were still such a rarity in the galaxy after The Great Purge. But you realised after just a few minutes of talking to him, that there was something incredibly comforting and warm about the man beneath the armour. When he had left, you had felt so devastated it was almost pathetic. Of course he had left, he was only here in this backwater hellhole for a job, after all. It had been difficult to complete your shift without dissolving into sobs, you felt irritated and on the verge of a meltdown but if you were to try to explain it to anyone, even if you could find the words, it would not make any sense. A stranger had made you feel happier than you had in a long time? How was that normal?

Waking yourself up for your shift the following morning and dragging yourself into to face the most wretched hive of scum and villainy in the galaxy at your place of work had been one of the toughest things you had ever had to do. You loathed that cantina, that was situated right next to the starport on the formerly-Imperial planet in the mid rim. People were fleeting, passing through. It was seedy. There were secrets to be traded in and you knew if you weren't careful, you could pay with your life. But you had to keep going. The boss had taken you in and supported you when you were down on your luck. There was no alternative. 

But the moment when you had caught the familiar glint of that shiny Beskar out of the corner of your eye as you were cleaning glasses had changed everything. At that moment, when Din had strode back into the cantina with that confident gait that you loved so much, it was as though all the misfortune you had endured had meant something. All the suffering you had experienced in your life was all being made up for now, when Din had returned and saved you from a monotonous life on that dead-end planet, working in a job you loathed with a hellish boss. You had left that day and never looked back.

Crossing paths with Din Djarin had been, without a doubt, the most fortunate thing that had ever happened to you. Although you had still been wary of his intimidating presence at first, despite how quickly you felt at ease with him; you had come to learn that despite his hulking, armoured form, there was a heart of gold beneath that cold, hard Beskar. As your relationship had gotten more serious and the two of you had grown closer and closer, your guilt at hiding such a big part of yourself had increased. There was not an easy way to tell people that you were autistic, you had discovered that over and over since you had received your diagnosis. There were often painful consequences once others discovered that there was a hint of difference. You knew it was foolish to think that with Din, he had proven to you time and time again to be a patient, understanding man. Not least because of how he treated you, but also because of how sweet he was to his son, Grogu.

Surprisingly, perhaps because he had spent the first part of your relationship hiding his face from you behind his helmet, you had not felt the need to mask as much as you usually did. There was no pressure to make eye contact and Din was so quiet that small talk was not an issue. He was direct, a man of few words. When he did speak, it was straight to the point. Something that you found immensely comforting from the moment you met him.

You had not wanted to burden him with the secret you were hiding from him though. At first, you had not thought it was important to bring up. People usually ran away or treated you differently. In the past, your honesty had been met with rejection or unkindness. Your heart ached to think of the same thing happening with Din.

But unfortunately, hiding that part of you was no longer an option. As you sat there, cowering in a cave that you had found away from all the noise that was characteristic of the Boonta Eve Classic, you wondered how on earth you were going to explain it to Din. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. You wanted to drop it in conversation, nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t a big deal – because why should it be? Instead, your hand had rather been forced by how upset the accumulation of events that happened to you throughout the day had left you.

Din had taken a lot of jobs recently and the two of you had spent a considerable amount of time apart. But you didn’t spend your days alone, pining for him; he had secured a job for you with his friend, High Magistrate Greef Karga on the planet where you shared a cabin with him and Grogu. It was a beautiful tract of land, just past the lava flats. You felt extremely grateful that Din had wanted to invite you into the quiet life he had built for himself Grogu. So while Din was away, you had found yourself working in the Nevarrian archives and making sure everything was up to date and in order. For a detail-orientated person who loved order, it was a perfect job for you. Even better, it came with minimal human interaction, a parsec away both literally and metaphorically from that hateful Cantina. What’s more, you had an incredibly good-natured – not to mention handsome – man for a partner and his charming son, whom you had quickly come to adore. With those big brown eyes and ears that could melt your heart when they drooped downwards, there was no way you could do anything other than love Grogu. 

But with so much time apart recently, Din had wanted to do something special to make it up to you. He had arranged to take you to the Boonta Eve Classic, an infamous event the entire galaxy over which took place annually on Tatooine. He had a friend who could babysit Grogu and it would be the perfect opportunity for the two of you to spend some quality time together. Din had told you about the time he had visited Tatooine on the day of it a couple of cycles ago but was unable to stay due to commitments elsewhere. You could see how excited he was to finally experience Boonta Eve and you would be lying if you weren’t excited too. It was definitely something on your bucket list, that you had wanted to experience for a while. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little daunted by it though, all the noise and people were sure to push you out of your comfort zone.

The heat of Tatooine was the first thing that stood out to you. Nevarro could be hot, but this was something else. It was repressive; you sweated just standing still. You wished you had dressed in something lighter, some cotton perhaps, rather than the shirt that seemed to cling to you. The bright, harsh light of the twin suns was also making your head buzz. You had felt a little shaky as you and Din climbed off the ship that had brought you here and headed for the hangar to meet Din’s friend who would take care of Grogu.

Din had introduced you to a few of his acquaintances since the two of you had gotten together and usually, you could understand why they were friends. You were about to meet the exception to that rule, though, in the form of a curly-haired, eccentric mechanic called Peli Motto. You had barely had a chance to catch your breath on this planet, which seemed determined to boil you to death, when you entered the hangar and met perhaps the most extroverted woman you had ever met in your entire life.

When you walked in, she had been conversing with some Jawas, her brown curly hair bobbing up and down furiously. Your understanding of the language was minimal at best, but it seemed to be a pretty heated discussion. Din shifted awkwardly next to you, Grogu in his arms. He cleared his throat and at once she spun around.

“Mando!” Peli exclaimed, throwing her arms up in delight. “Good to see ya, always a pleasure!”

“You too.” Din nodded in response.

“No ship today?” Peli asked, with a shrug. “Shame, I would’ve given her the ol’ once over for ya. For a good price, of course.”

“No, there wasn’t enough room. I’m here with my partner, you see.” Din said, nodding towards you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back to show that you were, in fact, an item.

“Well look at you! Isn’t Mando punching above his weight? You’re stunning.” Peli said with a grin, her hands coming to rest on her toolbelt. Although, judging by the amount of droids she employed, it didn’t look as though she did much work herself. “You know, if things don’t work out between the two of you, you give me a call. Alright?”

“Uh… alright?” You laughed apprehensively, taken aback by how brazen she was.

Din sensed your unease and swiftly moved the conversation on, removing his hand from your back and taking a few steps towards Peli, handing Grogu to her. Grogu cooed at being passed to the woman, who greeted him enthusiastically. You just stood there awkwardly, your arms felt heavy and you suddenly felt incredibly out of place, even though you were with your boys. You just wanted to leave this place behind and finally spend some quality time with Din. That was the entire point of your trip, after all.

After Din had reminded Grogu several times to mind his manners and not eat all of Peli’s food, the two of you left the hangar behind and walked hand-in-hand as you made your way towards the area where the Boonta Eve Classic was taking place. Din had splurged on grandstand seats for the two of you and, although you had expected it would be busy, as you got closer and closer, you were blown away by the capacity of the main stand. It seemed as though it could hold hundreds of thousands of people. Din must have sensed your unease since the whole interaction with Peli, as he checked in with you.

“You okay?” Din asked, looking at you. But all that greeted you was the harsh blackness of his visor, rather than the warm, comforting brown eyes that you loved so much. “Sorry about Peli, I should’ve given you a heads-up. She’s completely harmless, but I know she can be a lot, sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s okay.” You laughed nervously. “It’s just a lot busier than I was expecting.”

“It’s Boonta Eve!” Din shook his head as though it should be obvious, which only made you feel worse, somehow. “Biggest event of the year. There are a lot of people, though.”

“Yeah.” You said quietly.

“Let’s get some food. It was a long journey, you must be hungry.” Din said as he pointed towards a stall with a considerable throng of people surrounding it. “Look, I think those stalls sell Bantha cheese hoagies, We can get a refreshing glass of blue milk too.”

“Okay.” You agreed. It was true, you would probably feel better with some proper food in your system. It had taken the better part of a day to travel here from Nevarro, on one of the ships that had been specially chartered to take people to the event. 

But the food had not helped. Nor had been crammed onto the bleachers alongside thousands of others without the comfort of Din’s face to ground you. Every time you looked at him, you were met with the unmoving gaze of his helmet, rather than his warm brown eyes that you loved so much. You had tried to maintain your composure throughout the afternoon through the many races and into the evenings, Din seemed to be enjoying himself and you didn’t want to ruin that from him. Much less could you even begin to get into why you were so upset, why you were struggling so much. He probably wouldn’t understand, he’d think you were strange. So you resolved to keep it together. It would all be over soon. You shut your eyes and took deep breaths as the final race began, knowing that you just had to make it through a few more minutes before you and Din would head back to the lodgings he had booked for the night – at great personal expense, if you had to guess.

But when the pod races had ended, after much cheering and ear-splittingly loud commentary coming from the speakers, there had been no reprieve. Instead, a fireworks display had started up, replacing one loud noise with another. If there was one thing you abhorred, it was sudden loud noises. They made you physically jump, completely terrifying you. It had been the thing that had tipped you over the edge into meltdown territory. You were trying your best to keep it together, to at least make it somewhere more private before you came apart. So you abruptly stood up, clapping your hands to your ears.

“Din… I need to leave.” You managed to squeak out before you were pushing your way along the row of bleachers and hurtling down the steps to somewhere quieter.

As you reached the bottom of the grandstand, your mind raced. Where could you go? You were somewhere completely alien to you. Plus, when you had made your way here, everything had been light. But now the suns had set and darkness had crept in. You were grateful that the harsh sun was no longer beating down furiously on you, but the lack of light disorientated you. Your vision started to blur as the tears began to fall, you were trembling, twisting your head furiously in desperate search of somewhere quiet you could get some privacy as you broke into pieces.

Mercifully, behind one of the vendors that were beginning to pack their wares up for the night, was an entrance to a cave. It was the perfect place for you to get some quiet away from the fireworks, which were still exploding all around you. Without a second thought – for your safety, for Din’s whereabouts – you darted inside the cave and found some peace. You sat there, arms around your knees, rocking back and forth as the meltdown that you had felt building pace for hours was finally crashing down with all its might on top of you. 

The sound of footsteps outside the cave did nothing to reach you, such was the distress you found yourself in. It could have been anyone with nefarious intentions, you weren’t in a position to care. You weren’t in a position to take anything in, really. But, mercifully, it was the familiar sight of the Mandalorian who owned your heart. Din had found you; of course, he had, he was not once known as the best bounty hunter in the parsec for no reason. 

“Cyar’ika? What’s wrong?” Din asked, voice full of concern as he closed the distance towards you.

He took a seat on the cold, firm floor of the cave in front of where you were currently sitting in a state of distress, unreachable as you felt the world was ending. 

“What happened?” Din asked, again. But his voice sounded slightly different this time and, as you opened your eyes and looked at him through your tears, you realised why. You could finally see the face of the man that you loved so much, the face you had been aching to see all day.

“Di- Din?” You sniffled. You respected his devotion to the Creed entirely – although he had chosen to walk a different path to the Way he was raised, he still only removed his helmet around you and Grogu.

“I’m here, cyar’ika. I’m not leaving you.” Din said, reaching out to pat your knee awkwardly, clearly scared that he was going to upset you more.

You took some deep breaths, attempting to compose yourself so you could speak to him and let him know the truth, about what had caused your sudden loss of composure and subsequent meltdown. To an outsider, you knew they looked inexplicable but inside your head, they made complete sense.

“Was it something I did? Was it the fireworks?” Din questioned, although the cave was almost entirely in darkness, you could still see the concern on his face. “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew they were part of Boonta Eve.”

“I didn’t…” You struggled for breath, “...know.”

“I’m so sorry. Were they too loud? Din asked you, you were grateful that he was keeping it to questions that could be answered with a yes or no. They were far easier to reply to in your current state.

“Yes.” You nodded your head furiously.

“Okay, okay. I think I get it.” Din said, continuing to stroke your knee gingerly. The warm pressure and presence of his hand was a welcome addition. It soothed you, rather than repulsed you as could sometimes happen when you were in a state of meltdown. “Take your time, get your breath back.”

You weren’t sure for how many minutes you sat there, trying to compose yourself so you could speak to Din and let him in. Let him know what had caused your distress. You knew what it was, but this could change everything. For a second, that made you cry harder. But then you comforted yourself with all the times Din had been understanding before, when you had returned from work upset or when he had been kind and patient to Grogu, the little boy with an immense gift.

Eventually, though, you were composed enough to initiate a conversation with the man who was so concerned about you, who you knew wanted to help you and understand what had upset you so much. You couldn’t bear the thought of him believing that it was his fault, if nothing else, you had to let him know that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this.

“Sorry for running off.” You said sincerely, struggling to meet Din’s gaze as you sat there in the cave together. “It wasn’t your fault, Din.”

“Do you want to talk about what caused it, now?” Din asked. “No pressure to but if I know, perhaps I can help you in future.”

You could have launched into a detailed history of your life, about how you knew from an early age that you were different. That, despite your human parents, you had repeatedly questioned whether you were, in fact, an alien who had been adopted, somehow. How things had not made sense until the day that healer looked into your eyes and told you those words: You are autistic. The way, even after that, things still did not make sense. How you thought that logically, having a diagnosis should make things easier to understand, that often you felt as though you understood yourself even less now.

But you didn’t. You could tell Din those things another time. For now, there was only one thing that Din needed to know. You closed your eyes and uttered the three words that could change everything for you, that could rip this man and the life you were building together away from you:

“Din… I’m autistic.” You said, shutting your eyes as though you were anticipating some kind of violence in response to the admission of your diagnosis.

When you opened them, though, there was no pain to be rained down on you. Only love and acceptance. Before you, the man you had grown so close to sat there cross-legged, his warm brown eyes widened in shock, as he nodded slowly in understanding. 

“Okay,” Din said with another firm nod, making sure that he was looking directly at you. “What can I do to help you?”

“You’ve been so understanding and accepting of me already. I just sometimes struggle to put into words how I’m feeling. It’s as though I don’t know how bad I’m feeling until I’m reduced to a blubbering mess, like just know.” You admitted. “That’s why, eventually, things were too much and I just ran off.”

“What caused it today?” Din asked, curiously. You saw no trace of judgement or a desire to pry in those eyes.

“Well, I tend to struggle with social situations, meeting new people and new environments. And also, sensory overload, when things are too bright and noisy… it makes me panic.” You admitted, fiddling nervously with the hem of the shirt that you had dressed in that had failed miserably at keeping you cool. “It was just… everything today. And I didn’t know how to say it or make you aware because you didn’t know and you might think I was ungrateful. I know how much you were looking forward to this, how much you spent on giving me the best experience. I wanted to have a good time but I just… I couldn’t…”

“Oh, cyar’ika. I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been struggling. I can see how a busy, noisy pod race with all the sounds and people would be awful for you. Plus the fireworks display you had no idea about… Boonta Eve was probably not the best place to bring you. Nor was it wise to introduce you to someone new, especially someone as loud as Peli.” Din said, shaking his head although he was upset for himself. “And all that, somewhere unfamiliar… on a planet you’ve never been to. It’s amazing, really, that you coped as well as you did, for so long today. I'm proud of you.”

“Thank you, Din. But please don’t feel bad, you didn’t know. I should’ve told you sooner… but I was scared to.” You admitted sheepishly.

“Scared?” Din questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I just….” You took a deep breath. It was difficult for you to talk about the unfortunate reactions you had been exposed to in the past. “There have been plenty of people who have not accepted my diagnosis, told me I didn’t look autistic or that it can’t be that bad. People just… they don’t understand. I was scared you’d think I was weird, that you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“Oh, cyar’ika.” Din said, shuffling to sit next to you so he could wrap his arm around your shoulder and bring you into him protectively. “I would never think that of you. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to feel so misunderstood and struggle with so many things that others find easy. I must admit, I don’t always notice lights and noises like others do, behind my helmet. It sort of creates a barrier between me and the rest of the galaxy. If I had to face the world in the same way you do, bearing my face… I would probably struggle too.”

“You would?” You questioned in amazement. Usually, you doubted how much people could understand, but with Din, there was utter sincerity there. He was noble and always true to his word, sometimes to the point of putting himself in precarious positions, you did not doubt him for a second.

“I would,” Din nodded. “Plus, as for the weird thing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you met me I told you I was part of a Creed that meant I could never show you my face. Not only that, but I had adopted a son who was older than me. So, you know, I’m also surprised you didn’t leave me. I’m not exactly the most normal person in the galaxy.”

You laughed at that, so hard that your sides were hurting. Din soon joined you and the cave was soon filled with something other than tortured sobs. It was a welcome change for your body to be hurting rather than something other than pain and terror, for there to be warmth spreading once again in your chest.

“Good point,” You admitted. “You are pretty weird.”

“But seriously, if you ever feel yourself struggling like that again, please tell me,” Din said, suddenly looking at you seriously. “You know, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll help you. Now that I know, I can look for things that might cause you distress. I promise I’ll never put you through anything you don’t want to do. You said that today must have cost a lot and that’s true, but you know credits don’t matter as much as you do. Your happiness is my only priority… along with Grogu’s, of course.”

“Thank you, Din.” You whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

The truth was, you would never be able to thank him with words. To have someone so understanding of you… it was a debt you felt that you would never be able to repay. But Din would never ask you to repay anything.

“Just continue being yourself, cyar’ika.” Din said, squeezing you to him. “I fell in love with you because you are who you are, this changes nothing. In fact, it makes me admire you and love you even more.”

"Really?" You asked.

"Really. From now until the end... I'm by your side." Din said, solemnly.

You sat there stunned, letting his words wash over you. They were a balm to your soul, the exact thing you needed to hear. You wondered how you had ever doubted Din's faithfulness and honourability. It seemed stupid now, that you could ever believe this man would want nothing but your absolute happiness. 

"Ready to head to the lodgings?" Din asked after a few more minutes had passed.

"Let's go." You nodded, accepting Din's hand as he pulled you to your feet.

As you made your way to the lodgings Din had arranged for you that night, your hand in his, you felt as though an incredible weight had been lifted from your shoulders. He had finally learnt the truth about you and the reasons why you struggled sometimes, there was nothing to hide anymore. And he had not responded with judgement or dismissiveness, nor had he doubted how much you had struggled. He had listened, allowed you to explain and vowed to help you through it in the future.

Din's helmet was back on now, but you felt a new respect for him. To know that he found it comforting, that he liked wearing it... most people would think it was an intense personal sacrifice to wear something so restrictive, but now that you knew that Din actually found solace in his helmet, with its tinted visor and the way it made noises quieter… perhaps you would think about the steps it took to become Mandalorian.

But all those questions could be answered later. For now, it was just you and the man you loved most in the galaxy, a man who knew everything about you and still loved you as much as he had before.

You weren’t sure what you had ever done to deserve such a kind, good man... but you weren’t about to question the way the galaxy had brought you together. You were just happy that your paths had crossed at all.

*

A few days later, back at your cabin on Nevarro, you awoke in the middle of the night to find that the side of the cot normally occupied by your favourite Mandalorian was empty. You momentarily panicked when you sat up with a start and saw that Din was nowhere to be found. You placed your hand on the sheets on his side of the cot and discovered they were still faintly warm. He couldn’t have gone far. Perhaps he was with Grogu, the little boy might have had a nightmare. But as you made your way into the hallway of the small cabin, you noticed a faint light coming from the main living area of the cabin.

As you crept down the corridor, not wanting to disturb Din, you noticed that he was sitting at the small desk in the living area. Illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, you could see his curly dark hair resting on the desk. You worried for a moment until you heard the comfortingly familiar sound of his shallow, even breaths which indicated that he had fallen asleep. As you looked even closer, you noticed that there was something open on the desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you wandered over there to see what he had been up to before he had fallen asleep with a lamp still on. A lamp that you turned off and shut the book that was sitting just above his hand, his hand resting next to it. And then you noticed the golden writing on the red cover and your heart skipped a beat.

It read, in Aurebesh: How to Support Your Autistic Loved One

You felt a lump in your throat and tears pool in your eyes. Before you could react further, Din stirred. The sound of the book shutting with a thud had caused him to stir, his brown eyes fluttered open and he turned to look up at you.

“Hi, sleepyhead.” You said, teasingly.

“Hi,” Din said, wiping his eyes. 

“Doing some late-night reading?” You asked with a smirk, nodding at the book.

“Oh…” Din said, turning his head to look down at the book too. “I got it from the archives here. I just wanted to know how to help you.”

“You’re so sweet, Din.” You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” Din smiled at you, his eyes looking at you adoringly. “Let’s head back to our cot.”

As you fell asleep, your cheek resting on the warm, firm expanse of Din’s broad chest, you felt certain that you were the luckiest person in the entire galaxy. There was no one that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You had not travelled far, but you knew that you could travel the galaxy many times and never meet another person as understanding as Din Djarin.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to… because he was all yours. From now until the end.

[luuxxart]

How had ryukitann got together? 🤔

sorry this is a little rushed, but in general i think this is the gist of how they’d get together

[jichanxo]

me & you & the son we used to have [from nov/2023]

second image is based on this fanfic by snap which you should totally go read

[spiderin-space]

I can be a little gay . As a Treat

[cookies-over-yonder]

the gap between a tragedy and comedy

Sure, Taylor gets frequent nightmares about Scary killing his dad, but he's alive, so everything is fine. Right?

[title from I/Me/Myself by Will Wood]

ao3

☆

Taylor gasps and opens his eyes.

Another nightmare about his dad dying.

But it's okay, he's alive and all is well. Taylor focuses on that thought as he slips out of the bed, grabs his cane, and starts pacing back and forth. It's a good way to get the excess energy out.

He and his friends were having another sleepover, so Taylor was careful to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake anyone up.

Link is still asleep in the bed, and Scary, Normal, and Hermie are in sleeping bags sprawled across the floor.

There's not much space to walk, but he manages.

As he walks, he still can't erase the memory of sobbing over what he thought was his dad's dead body. His dad, who just came back into his life, and got him such a perfect present, and who was truly wanting to connect with him… but he's alive. He's alive. So everything is fine. Everything is fi—

"Ow, fuck!" Taylor yelps as he hits the ground. He tripped over Scary's leg.

Immediately, he clasps a hand over his mouth. So much for keeping quiet.

He lays there for a few seconds, waiting for a reaction, but none come. Everyone was still asleep. Nice.

Taylor tries to lift himself up. He fell forward and his arms broke his fall for the most part, but now they were hurting more than they already were. His elbows buckle underneath him and he collapses against the floor again.

Maybe he'll just sleep here for the night.

He closes his eyes, but then all he can see is his dad's body.

Fuck.

"Taylor?"

Fuck.

"Hi, Link."

"Whoa, man, what happened?"

Link is already in front of Taylor.

"My arms hurt. I can't…" Taylor tries to lift himself up again, and he doesn't even make it slightly off the ground.

"Okay, I'm gonna lift you up, okay?"

"Yeah."

Link carefully turns Taylor onto his back and scoops him up, carrying him bridal style.

"Sorry if this hurts."

It does. "Don't worry. I'd rather have this than be stuck on the floor."

And then the soft bed cushions him as Link sets him down on the bed. "Blanket or no blanket?"

"No blanket."

"Alright."

After placing him back on the bed, Link grabs the cane off the floor and props it up beside Taylor's side of the bed.

"Thanks, man. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. Are you okay? What happened?" Link asks as he sits on the bed next to Taylor.

"I tripped on Scary's leg and fell."

"Why were you up?"

"I—I was, like, pacing. You know, too—too much energy and all… all that," Taylor stutters. His heart is beating too fast from the adrenaline of the fall. "I'm fine, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Taylor says, feeling his chest start to hurt. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm chill. Let's just go back to sleep."

"You look kinda shaken up, man."

"I'm fine, I just had a… I had a dream about… like… when Scary killed my dad—but then it turned out that he was fine and still alive so like it's fine and I don't know why—I mean—It doesn't make sense for… just—I'm fine. Yeah."

Taylor's chest hurts more now. He's unsure of whether he'll even be able to fall asleep after that.

"I'm all good. I just—I fell and couldn't move, so I guess that could explain the… I mean, that's like, happened to me before. I just call my mom for help."

Taylor remembers another thought that crossed his mind when he thought his dad was dead. What if it happened to his mom?

"Look, ju—just… Le—let's go to sss…sleep. I…I'm fine now. Thanks to you…your rescue, my hero. Uhh—"

"Taylor, take a breath," Link cuts him off.

"Huh?"

It confuses him for a second, but once Taylor's no longer trapped in his thoughts, he realizes why his chest has been hurting.

"Shit," Taylor says, shifting himself to sit up a little, "I—I'm—"

Frozen, Taylor becomes hyper-aware of his breaths coming too fast, and his hands shaking, and the memory of his dad's dead body, and it won't go away.

"Taylor, Taylor, hey."

Link is sitting in front of him now. "It's okay," he says.

It's definitely not.

"Uh…" Taylor can feel hot tears sliding down his face now. Crying is something that's happened before, but whatever's going on right now feels out of his control. And scary.

Taylor feels like he's choking. He can't  get enough air in.

"I—I don't know what's… Link, I don't know…" Taylor's voice wobbles. "I—I can't…"

And he's still thinking about his dad dying, even though it didn't really happen. And it's stupid that he won't stop thinking about it.

Taylor is hyperventilating.

He's hyperventilating, and shaking, and light-headed, and dizzy.

He's definitely dying right now.

But it's not from a battle. It's not from a wound. It's… he doesn't know.

Whatever Link says next is muffled and faint. There's one thought circling Taylor's mind:

"This is such a suh—stupid way to die."

And of course, it's the perfect time for his pain to flare up. A terrible ache spreads through his limbs as if it couldn't have gotten any worse.

Everything hurts, and it's really cold, and his skin feels prickly and uncomfortable, and that makes him cry harder and breathe faster.

Suddenly, his cheeks feel warm. Something is pressing against them.

The unfamiliar feeling takes Taylor's attention away from everything that is so wrong right now. He blinks away the tears blurring his vision and looks up at Link, a lot closer to him than he was before.

There's hands on his face. Link's hands are on his face, and his mouth is moving. Past the static in his head, Taylor manages to make out what he's saying.

"...lor. Taylor. Taylor."

"Ye—" His breath hitches. Ah. He can't talk. A nod should suffice, so he settles for that.

After nodding, Taylor can see Link's expression soften a little.

"Listen to me," Link says, sounding surprisingly assertive. "You are not dying. Trust me, okay?"

Taylor trusts Link. He's always trusted Link. Usually he sounds a little unsure of himself, but right now he sounds the most confident Taylor's ever heard him be.

Something about that makes Taylor believe it. He nods again.

"Okay. Breathe in for four seconds. I'll count."

Taylor does his best to follow Link's directions.

"One, two, three, four."

Taylor takes in a breath as big as he can, which is not very.

"Now hold it," Link says, and Taylor focuses on how sure he is in what he's saying. It makes him feel safer.

"And out, two, three, four."

Taylor lets out a sigh. It gets a little easier to breathe, but not by much.

"Now let's do it again," Link says, practically hovering over Taylor, with his hands still on his face. He's so close, and he must feel so warm…

"Can—sorry—uh, can we…" Taylor leans in, presses his face against Link's chest, and wraps his arms around his back. "Can we do it like this?"

"Yeah, we can," Link answers, and Taylor can feel himself being held in his embrace.

It is warm.

And he continues to breathe with Link, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

After a while, Taylor breaks the comfortable silence that fell over them.

"Hey… why did you cup my face earlier?" he mumbles.

"I didn't want to hold your arms, because you said they were hurting."

"Oh," Taylor feels his face get hot. Careful and considerate and kind… Link really is a hero.

A hero who's running his hands through Taylor's hair now. It's soothing.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Sorta… I mean. Thank you—I just, I don't know because… I… I've had that nightmare so much, Link. I don't know, I don't know, and I'm in a lot of pain, and I hate it, and none of this is badass like I want it to be. I don't know why this is… I don't know why it's still freaking me out."

"Mm, well… your dad is okay, but the sight you saw and fear you felt were real," Link says, and then he gently pulls Taylor off his chest and looks him in the eyes. "And you are totally badass."

Taylor lets out a wet laugh.

"I mean it. You're still here. You're alive. You're persevering. That's badass."

Link's eyes are wide and determined. Taylor can feel their gaze piercing through him, and all he can do is stare back. Their faces are as close together as they were before, though this time Taylor is a lot less out of it.

Their faces are really close together.

"Okay," Taylor whispers.

"Um, so, we should sleep."

Taylor cringes. "Yeah…"

"What's wrong?"

"I'm kinda scared. I know that nightmare keeps coming back."

"I have an idea."

Link guides Taylor to lie back down, and helps him turn to the side, then he shifts himself to lie down too, wrapping an arm around Taylor and pulling him close.

"If you have that nightmare again, I'll be right here. I'll protect you."

Taylor shudders, and a fresh wave of tears falls down his face. "Okay."

He's thankful that Link doesn't comment on how Taylor continues to cry into his shirt. Maybe he's already asleep…

Link silently starts rubbing circles onto Taylor's back. He is not asleep.

He just lets Taylor cry.

And eventually, they both fall asleep.

◇

The next morning, Taylor is the last to wake up.

Link watches as everyone else wakes up and files out of the room to brush their teeth and get breakfast, but he doesn't move, because Taylor is clutching his shirt with a death grip and his face is still buried in it.

"Taylor, wake up, it's time for breakfast," Link says, nudging him with the hand that's already on his back.

Taylor whines, shakes his head, and presses himself further against Link's chest.

"Taylor, come on, aren't you hungry?"

Taylor shakes his head.

It's not unlike him to be clingy like this, but Link suspects that what happened last night is still weighing on him.

That suspicion is confirmed when Link sees Taylor's face scrunch up and his hands start to tremble.

"Taylor, are you okay?"

Maybe it's a stupid question, but it's still worth asking.

At first, Taylor doesn't speak or move.

But then—and Link almost misses it—he just barely shakes his head.

It makes sense.

Taylor isn't really one to break down—last night must have shaken him up pretty badly.

And judging by him not knowing what was going on, Link could guess that that might have been his first time having an anxiety attack.

It must have been scary.

Seeing Taylor spiralling like that startled Link as well. Link was no stranger to recurring nightmares, but he had no idea Taylor has been going through the same thing.

Link tightens his grip on Taylor, holding him close.

"How about we get up after a few minutes?"

"No, it's—we can—" Taylor shifts back a little, and then cringes. "Ow—" he shudders and sucks a breath in through his teeth.

"It's okay, it's okay."

"We should ea—fuck, I… I can't… hurts…"

"Okay, okay, do you want me to carry you downstairs? Or I can bring you food up here."

"You can um. You can carry me again."

"Okay, okay," Link turns Taylor onto his back. Taylor cringes again, and he pulls his hands up to cover his face, and he starts breathing fast again.

"Hey, hey, just breathe."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry—I'm just kinda… I—I—uhh…"

"I know, it's okay," Link says, helping him shift to sit up against the wall.

"Mmm, yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just… I need—I need a second," Taylor says, burying his head further in his hands.

"It's okay."

Taylor takes a big breath in, holds it, lets it out, and lets his hands fall back down onto his lap.

"Thank you…thank you for your help last night."

"Of course, anytime. How are you feeling now?"

"I'm… I don't feel good. I don't know why," Taylor says.

He really doesn't look too great. His face is red and stained with tears, and he's trembling again, just a bit.

"Okay, it's okay, let's go downstairs and get breakfast."

"Okay, maybe I can…" Taylor slowly shifts closer to the edge of the bed and grabs his cane. Link slips off the bed and stands in front of Taylor, ready to help.

Taylor stands on his feet for about a second before he falls forward into Link, who wraps his arms around him instinctively.

"God, my legs hurt so bad."

"I'm gonna pick you up."

"Okay."

Link scoops Taylor up in his arms, and Taylor's face gets a little redder.

"Tha—thanks."

Link grabs Taylor's cane and hangs it on his wrist.

Taylor's eyes are shut, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth is agape.

When Link shifts him a little to get a better grip on the cane, he can see Taylor's face scrunch up.

Taylor wasn't this bad before they went to sleep last night, but Link knows that stress can cause the pain to flare up, and Taylor has definitely been under a lot of stress.

Link carries him down the stairs.

☆

Taylor almost falls back asleep as Link carries him down the stairs, but the voices of the others quickly wake him up.

They sound concerned, though Taylor can't really process what they're saying. "'M fine," he mumbles, hoping that's enough reassurance.

Sounds like it wasn't, because now Link is saying something to them.

It seems to calm them down. He isn't sure.

And then Taylor lands on something soft and warm.

Taylor opens his eyes. It's the couch. And Link is propping him up against the armrest with a pillow.

There's also two sets of eyes looking at him.

Normal and Hermie. They're sitting on an adjacent couch, both glancing at him every few seconds like they're not wanting him to notice that he's being stared at.

"I'm fine, guys, don't worry," Taylor says, though the weak and raspy voice betrays him a little. 

Before they can say anything, Link comes back with two bowls of cereal. He places one on the coffee table, and Taylor slowly shifts to an upright position, taking his legs off the couch.

Taylor grabs the bowl and puts it on his lap. He can feel Link hovering over him, ready to assist if needed, but not too overbearing.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Link says, sitting next to him with the other bowl. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV. "What do you wanna watch?"

◇

The look on Taylor's face is worth everything to Link.

His eyes light up, and a big toothy grin appears on his face in an instant.

Taylor takes the remote and searches for a show.

He still looks a little frazzled, but he's got his spirit back.

Once Taylor finds a show, he puts the bowl back on the table, presses play, and leans into Link's side.

Link wraps his arm around Taylor's shoulders and pulls him closer.

"I love the soundtrack of this movie," Taylor says, and his voice is so full of love and passion and light.

Scary comes down the steps, fully dressed with her hair and makeup all done. "You guys watching Totoro?"

"Yeah," Taylor says.

"Ah, look who finally woke up," she comments, nodding to Taylor, before sitting on the couch with Hermie and Normal, kicking her feet up on the foot rest.

And suddenly, Link feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest. Taylor's got both his arms wrapped around Link's torso.

His breathing is nice and slow, his eyes are half lidded but fixed on the TV, and his face is still a little red.

☆

Taylor feels more emotionally exhausted than he has in a while.

He didn't sleep well, his head hurts, his arms hurt, his legs hurt, his back hurts, his chest hurts…

A lot hurts.

The girls in the movie thinking their mom is going to die makes him press his face further into Link's side.

Link's grip on him tightens, and all at once everything is too much, and his breath hitches, and tears fall, and then Link's thumb is on his cheek wiping it away.

Taylor turns to face Link.

They lock eyes.

Link's eyes are dark and warm and caring and concerned and protective and safe and wonderful.

His arms are strong. Taylor doesn't know when he and Link ended up intertwined like this, but he's being held and he wants to stay like this forever.

The music from the TV courses through Taylor's veins and relaxes him, or maybe that's just the warmth of Link's embrace and his enchanting eyes.

There's just something so… different about Link.

Toward him, Taylor just feels this gravitational pull.

Maybe it's his kindness.

Maybe it's his care.

Maybe it's his support.

Taylor doesn't know.

The way Link looks at him makes him feel like the most beautiful scene in any anime.

Link makes him feel like that even when he knows he looks like a mess.

Taylor can feel the hair stuck to his face with sweat, and his eyes are dry from crying so much. He's an emotional mess. He's a physical mess. He's a mess in every form.

But Link doesn't see that. Link is just gazing at him. Studying him, maybe.

And then Taylor's gaze drops.

Link's mouth is open just a tad. Taylor can hear him breathing in and out.

And his lips…

Taylor stares, and he stares, and he stares.

He can't tear his eyes away. He's looking… and thinking… and wondering… what it would feel like…

Taylor sucks in a breath and shuts his eyes. His heart is thumping and his face is on fire.

Fuck.

"You okay?" Link asks, and his voice is so warm and worried and it makes Taylor feel like molten lava.

"Uh… yeah."

Link's hand is on his head and carding his fingers through his hair again and it feels so nice and it feels so right and shit, Taylor knows what that gravitational pull is.

But it's okay, it's fine. This feels right. Taylor cuddles up against Link and closes his eyes.

"Taylor, are you even watching?" Scary asks.

"I'm listening," he mumbles into Link's side.

◇

Before Link knows it, Taylor is asleep on his side.

Some other movie autoplayed, but Link doesn't pay it much attention, he's too focused on Taylor.

He looks a lot more peaceful than earlier. Link is almost certain that Taylor did not sleep well last night.

Hopefully he was sleeping better now.

Link rests his head atop Taylor's and hums.

…Taylor has pretty eyes.

Link wasn't sure what was happening but somehow they'd ended up staring at each other for a while. Maybe Link was just seeing things, but was Taylor looking at his lips?

…Did he have food on his face?

He licks his lips. Nothing.

Huh. So Taylor was just… looking… at his lips…

Taylor's lips are kind of chapped. There's a little dried blood, too. He must have been biting them. Link does that when he's anxious too.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, Taylor started biting the skin on his lips again.

Not wanting to wake him up, but not wanting him to hurt himself, Link puts a hand on his cheek.

Taylor's eyes just barely crack open. "Wha…?"

"Sorry, just… you shouldn't bite your lips like that. They're bleeding."

"Mm…"

Link watches Taylor close his eyes again and lick the blood off his lips. "Fine..."

Slightly dazed, Link thinks he knows why Taylor kept staring at his lips.

And when Taylor presses his face against Link's chest, half–lying on top of him now, Link feels a new kind of nervousness.

But it's kind of nice?

It's nice.

And Link swears to himself that he'll keep Taylor safe from nightmares until the end of time.

♡

[snakebites-and-ink]

CW: Pet whump, institutionalized slavery, implied past abuse, caretaker is in fact the new master, I’m new at this so if there was a warning I missed please lmk.

It was a normal day, at first. A calm day. Caretaker and Whumpee were in the kitchen. Whumpee was standing casually in the kitchen space and would simply move out of the way if Caretaker had to get to something past them. The pet had come a long way since Caretaker first bought them, when Whumpee would kneel in a corner trying to make themself as small as possible, and not do anything without permission except beg.

Now Whumpee would move around the house freely and take care of their basic needs without permission, and was more-or-less comfortable asking Caretaker for other things they needed or even wanted. Caretaker was proud of them.

Unfortunately, there were still things that could bring Whumpee’s fear out from wherever it still lurked within them.

Not having been paying close attention, Caretaker wasn’t quite sure what caused it: whether Whumpee got distracted, or Caretaker moved in a startling way somehow, or if the glass was just wet and slippery. Whichever it was, the glass of water Whumpee was holding unexpectedly slid from their grasp.

Two sets of eyes widened as the glass crashed to the floor, spraying glittering clear water and glass shards everywhere. Startling, but not a serious thing…to Caretaker.

By the look of things, it was serious to Whumpee. They looked afraid, almost panicked, at how they had messed up. Face pale, Whumpee paused in shock for a single moment before immediately moving to pick up the sharp shards.

“Stop!” Caretaker shouted. Whumpee froze. “Don’t use your bare hands. Use the broom and dustpan, then go over the area with a vacuum to get all the tiny bits that the broom might have missed.” As Caretaker spoke, they leaned over the broken glass with the broom held out so that Whumpee didn’t have to risk cutting their feet to go retrieve it.

Whumpee accepted the broom and started sweeping the shards. They still looked quite afraid, but the instructions seemed to have given them something to focus on and directed them away from blind panic to a more controlled fear. Whumpee was sweeping the glass away from—never towards—where they were standing, and not touching any of it directly.

Satisfied that Whumpee was out of danger and figuring that a second body at risk of getting cut would only complicate things, Caretaker said, “I’m going to the living room. Don’t cut yourself.” Whumpee nodded obediently and Caretaker carefully stepped out of the room.

Whumpee finished cleaning up their mess, trying in vain to ignore the dread that had settled in their stomach. After putting away the vacuum, they went to where their owner had sat down and knelt in front of them.

Caretaker looked up from what they were reading and frowned in concern, noticing how tense the pet was. “What’s up, hon?”

“I finished cleaning. I’m ready for my punishment, Master.”

Whumpee’s heart raced in fear as they wondered what their owner was going to do about this mishap. Caretaker had been lenient with them so far, but they hadn’t broken anything of Caretaker’s before and weren’t sure what the punishment would be. They couldn’t help but think of how their old master would have punished them for a slip-up like this.

“Wasn’t having to clean up the mess sufficient punishment?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee froze. They were trapped. If they said yes, it could be seen as them trying to escape punishment. If they said no, they could be seen as disagreeing with their master. Either one could only make their situation worse. After a few seconds of panicked hesitation, Whumpee gave the safest answer they could: “I wouldn’t know, Master.” Caretaker’s expectant look told them that that answer wasn’t enough, so Whumpee added, “but I’m used to harsher punishments.”

Caretaker’s face did the thing it usually did when Whumpee talked about the time with their previous owner; it softened with compassion for Whumpee, hardened with cold anger towards Whumper, and got kind of sad, all at the same time somehow. “Oh, Whumpee,” they said sympathetically, “you don’t need any punishments like that. Dishes are replaceable, and more importantly, I know it was an accident. If you were to willfully rebel, I would have to be harsh with you, but otherwise I see no reason for your consequences to be anything worse than fixing the problem your mistake caused.”

Whumpee could have sobbed with relief. Not only were they not going to be punished any further for this, but now also they knew such lenience would be a pattern they could rely on for the future. “Thank you, Master,” they said, tension draining out of them.

Caretaker put an arm around Whumpee’s shoulder and drew them closer, and Whumpee leaned into the owner who was so much kinder than anything they’d known before. “You’re welcome, hon, but you don’t need to thank me for something as basic as that. I’ll never treat you like your last owner did. You’re safe here, and I hope one day you’ll understand that as a truth rather than just as a statement,” Caretaker murmured into Whumpee’s ear.

I’m starting to, Whumpee thought.