#but i seriously could not gif that one alone for a fourth time. like that would TRULY be excessive

[kaeichi]

love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. gn! reader. reader likes guys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03

⊹ 02 : radiant [wc: 4.6k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“ah…found you, finally.” 

nagi huffs out, slightly out of breath as he leans against the railing of the staircase on the fourth floor. what a damn hassle, making him expend such excessive effort like this—it all could've been easily prevented if you just replied to his text asking you about his whereabouts. he figures your phone must've died, because there's no way you wouldn't have noticed his 7 texts of wya? in a row.

“been tryin’ to look everywhere f’you. next time, can you just tell…” he trails off once he steps closer and realizes you're not alone.

“seriously? him again?” your boyfriend len scowls, directing his caustic gaze at the topic of interest, who has conveniently decided to show up at the right moment.

except nothing about this is right at all. 

there's no good explanation as to why you feel your heart plummet. your best friend, your only trusted companion whose mere presence incites a familiar sense of comfort and an effortless, breezy smile from you; when you're with him, you don’t have to think much about the reasoning behind why he has that sort of ability, or why it feels like you're right at home whenever you're with him.

you just somehow know. and that's how it has always been.

being with nagi is supposed to be easy, calming, and freeing, even—so why is there a heavy pressure weighing down on you all of a sudden? despite everything, why has he suddenly become the last person you want to see right now?

“seishiro?” apprehensively, you ask, “what are you doing here?”

“i just came to get you. like usual.” while there's nothing wrong with what nagi says, you still inadvertently wince, hesitating to meet either male's eyes as an unpleasant feeling brews in your gut.

“yeah, but i told you i was gonna be with my boyfriend…”

here’s the thing: it's not like nagi doesn't know you have one. 

when you first told him about it, he thought it was a joke (a hilarious one, at that). he thought it might've been one of your delusions again, and in typical nagi seishiro fashion he only spared you a fleeting glance with heavy-lidded eyes and a congratulations, i guess in the most listless tone. and when you told him to go on ahead because you wouldn't walk home with him today, he failed to take it seriously once more, thinking it was one of your weird ‘loyalty pranks’ to see if he would actually go and leave you behind.

but when he didn't feel the usual tug on his shoulder, or your arm resting against the top of his dozing head to wake him up at the end of the class, he thought there was something slightly off. when he looked around and saw no trace of you around the classroom or even around the front of the school, he thought there was something really wrong.

nagi’s starting to find this stupid joke less and less funny.

could all of the previous days (or has it already been weeks?) you’ve been talking about this mysterious nobody be true? he should’ve paid more attention. so, yes—it's not like he doesn't know you have one, he just had a rather hard time believing it (though he doesn't know it's due to the fact that you are you, or because maybe he's just in denial about it).

what annoying, annoying jest. when did this so-called “relationship” even have the time to blossom? 

“oh…did you?” the white-haired male’s voice doesn't come out as smooth as he’d like. he scratches his neck, feeling it a bit clogged for whatever reason. he's glad he's not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, because even if his voice betrays him, he can at least keep his expression neutral. “well, i’m here now, and i don't wanna walk home alone. i kinda forgot the way back, so i need your help—”

“seishiro!” you hiss, your voice clipped and bordering on desperate; a warning, one that goes right over nagi’s head.

“you know what?” a peeved voice cuts in—len’s, whose patience has worn thin. he has had enough of nagi demanding your attention that was supposed to be reserved for him. if you can’t even keep your eyes solely on your boyfriend, then you might as well be a good-for-nothing cheat. “forget this. i don’t think we’d ever work out if this continues.”

“w-what? wait, huh?” as your face crumbles, nagi is unable to grasp why he feels a faint throb in his chest at the sight. “let's talk about thi—”

“right, let's talk about it, hm?” when you finally meet len’s eyes, you’re barely able to recognize your boyfriend at this point, his taunting sneer morphing his face into someone completely different. is this really the kind, alluring lover that you fell for? “be with me, or cut off this… this nagi kid?”

“what? where did this come from? you can't just suddenly make me choose—”

“and there's your answer.” he scoffs, slapping your hand away that's unconsciously reaching out to him before turning around to leave. in a few rigid strides, he's gone, and you're left staring blankly at the space where he just was.

it is nagi who breaks the silence after a few moments. “…guess this wasn't a good time, huh?” nagi sighs, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter as you remain frozen. “well, at least we can go home now.”

“nagi.”

confusion clouding all over his face, he slightly perks up at your somber tone, a hint of unease setting in his stomach. he doesn't like whatever this is that he's suddenly feeling. “why’re you calling me nagi?”

“i think you know why. leave me alone, nagi.”

for quite some time after, those words remain the last thing you've said to him.

nagi has always been somewhat aware of his inability to comprehend feelings, whether it be his own or of others, but this time is the first time he's ever bothered by his lack of aptitude; the first time he's ever felt this swirl of foreign emotions engulf him, of strange, unknown sensations rushing to him all at once. what started as a mere bud sprouting along the expanse of his lungs, grew double—no, triple in size within a matter of days, poking and squeezing the spongy organ until its function proved near useless. 

the abundance of petals produced by these excrescences is nothing but a nuisance, blocking his airways and tainting his tongue with the bitter, awful taste of decay, which only seems to get worse with each passing week without a word from you. it's a pain, it's majorly vexing, it's—

“leave me alone, nagi.”

—it's suffocating.

PRESENT

nagi still refuses to join the soccer team.

in the hallways, reo somehow manages to always find you and your companion throughout the day, greeting the both of you with unmatched enthusiasm—the kind that someone really shouldn't have at seven o’clock in the morning. everytime that happens, reo is only met with the same, vacant stare, accompanied with a blunt no without much thought.

after all, he's not the only one who came to recruit the white-haired genius. the volleyball, basketball, and softball clubs (even the cheerleading team, for some reason?) have all tried, to which he instantly shut down.

“why would i participate in sports? even walking is tiring to me,” is his simple reasoning every single time, without fail.

at some point, reo tries to bribe him with a brand new gaming console as a “customary gift”. not that there's anything customary about that, but you suppose rich people live in a different world than you common folks do (when you found out that reo arrives to school in a goddamn limousine, you've lost all interest in being more than acquaintances with someone as absurd as that).

however, that is when reo finally manages to elicit a reaction from nagi, a slight sheen in his eyes that made you immediately panic, dragging him away before he gives in and telling him accepting anything from mikage? i think the fuck not! (“why not?” “because we don’t want to get in debt by someone like him!” “oh, we don’t?” “yes, dummy! next thing you know, we keep ‘borrowing’ money from him and eventually when we can't pay it back, he ships us off to some remote island and makes us his slaves for the rest of our lives because we couldn't afford our debt!” “you watch too much horror movies, i think.”)

however, as irritating as one’s persistence could be, deep down you hope nagi accepts reo’s invite. you've always known about his underutilized potential, and how he himself is the only thing that's holding him back.

truly, a waste that is.

“i know that rich boy’s been really annoying about it, but why don't you try it out? even just for a little bit?” you ask nagi, having stayed behind during lunch in your classroom instead of heading to the crowded school cafeteria.

“don't wanna,” he mutters against his arms, head buried against the desk.

“why not? our teacher’s been hounding you for not being in a club, right?”

“i’ll just join the book club or something. now go away,” he says, probably trying to catch up on much needed rest, despite already sleeping through your morning classes.

“you slacker. just try it out so mikage stops bothering me too.”

nagi suddenly lifts his head up. “he’s bothering you?”

leaning your elbow on the desk nagi’s lying down on, you press your cheek against your palm as you snicker at his sudden mood change. “mhm. won't you save me, your one and only best friend? the one you swore to protect until the world collapses? me, an innocent, pure ethereal being who's cruelly subjected to harassment and—” 

he breathes out a long exhale. you brace yourself, racking your brain as you try to think of more ways to persuade him (without including the promise of reo’s “prize” or whatever suspicious deals you're sure the heir is involved with). 

however, in nagi’s perspective, it's not because he needed any more convincing, but because he can't believe he's actually willingly to participate in something so bothersome for someone's sake. “…fine.”

“wait, actually?! for real?” with your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, nagi almost snorts at your ridiculousness. almost.

“you're the one who kept telling me to go for it, so why’re ya surprised?” 

his sleepy voice gets drowned out by your excited chattering. “wow, nagi seishiro is actually interested in something else other than napping and gaming? no way! noooo way!”

“it's annoying, but yeah.” he grimaces, regret already sinking in—but since he's doing it for you, he supposes it's alright. just this once, he can make an exception. “…you're coming with me, right?”

a pause. “um… no? unless you want me to be the token benchwarmer?”

“ah, fair.”

“yeah, yeah. besides, i’m already in debate club, so me joining you is out of the question.”

“not even as our manager?”

“nope.”

nagi visibly sulks, lips forming into his signature pout. cute. it almost looks like he's at a loss of what to do without you—maybe it’s a result of you and him being stuck together at the hip since middle school, and how he's grown dependent on you due to his lazy nature, but you're sure he'll survive on his own.

…probably.

“i’ll come watch your games though,” you quickly add in case he backtracks on his word, reaching over the desk and tousling his hair, messing it up even more. he doesn't complain like how he usually would, merely blinking his wide gray eyes at you. “i mean, what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't support you?”

that seems enough for nagi. he straightens up, a hand running through his now disheveled white locks, peering at you with a newfound motivation. “better keep your eyes on me, ‘kay?”

you grin, nodding. “duh. goes without saying, loser.”

sometime after that, reo, nagi, and yourself have now fallen into some sort of routine: nagi now has practice on thursdays and fridays after school, but sometimes reo swings by unexpectedly during lunch on those days to discuss with nagi what their training plans would be after school (unable to wait until the end of the day, apparently). not that nagi actually listens, but he has come to a realization that it’d be too much work if he were to refuse him, so he just lets him do whatever he wants.

would it be foolish to think that reo would let up once he’s gotten what he wanted? if anything, his apparent interest grows even more, which only encourages the rumors that are recently circulating about you. girls still glare at you in jealousy, while guys sneak judgmental glances at you, but reo manages to clear up any misunderstandings using his natural charm and influence, so you're fine for the most part. how thoughtful. well, it's his fault in the first place anyway. 

for some reason, you see him a lot more often than necessary.

…like right now, for instance.

when a flash of purple appears in your peripherals, you turn, met with the sight of reo’s handsome figure hovering by the doorway. the tall male is hanging rather stiffly in the middle of the entrance, as if unable to decide whether to come inside or not.

“mikage?” you decide to call him out. “what are you doing here?”

he flinches, akin to a deer in headlights. what's up with that reaction? is he not supposed to be here or…? “huh? well, i’m here for nagi, of course.”

“right.” you nod curtly. it's monday today; they don't even have practice until the next few days.

but even then, reo has picked the worst time to drop by, because nagi isn't even at school today. (surprise, surprise—he slept in. again.) just as you are about to bring that up, reo casually ambles over and pulls a seat back, sitting across you with a sheepish smile on his face.

by now, you've grown familiar with the scent of his cologne wafting in the air whenever he's nearby. it's a delicate yet expensive scent, fresh and woody, like musk with hints of apples and mint. a vast difference from nagi’s, whose smell is more down-to-earth, like fresh laundry and the breeze of early mornings.

other than the questioning glance you offer him, nothing happens for a few moments. reo opens his mouth as if to say something, but when nothing comes out, he reverts back to pursed lips and skittish glimpses. it's off-putting how he seems to struggle with striking up a conversation for once—you start to feel a bit awkward about the stretched silence, so you just shrug and continue eating from your bento. as long as he's not bothering you too much, you don't actually mind his company.

“want some?” noticing how you're the only one eating lunch, you absentmindedly bring up the chopsticks close to his mouth, urging him to take a bite out of your tamagoyaki.

that seems to finally snap reo out of his inner strife, his violet eyes widening as they flicker between you and the food, “y-you're feeding me…?” 

ah, crap—you’re so used to feeding nagi that you didn't even think twice before bringing the neatly rolled omelette to his lips. before you can retract your hand though, reo quickly composes himself, enclosing his fingers on your forearm to prevent you from moving away. “okay, i guess,” he mutters shyly before taking a bite.

a slight relief fills you as you watch him accept your offer, though that quickly turns into nervousness. “well? how was it?” you ask, observing the purple-haired male chewing carefully with a finger on his chin.

“did you cook this?” reo returns with a question of his own, peering at you through his lashes.

“you didn’t answer my question…”

“hm. did you?”

“what, is my cooking not good enough for the great master mikage reo’s superior taste buds?” you roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance as your face warms at the fact that he's deliberately avoiding your questions. you half-expect him to spit out the food; now that you think about it, surely he wouldn't enjoy eating something so bland and second-rate—

“hmm, not sure. i might need another bite to fully understand the flavors.”

you blink dumbly at reo’s coyness. well, he doesn't seem to outright hate it, so that's better than you are initially expecting. when you push the bento closer to him, he only stares at you expectantly, as if waiting for something. you stare right back, muttering, “what is it?” 

“uh…actually, i broke both of my hands. and my fingers too. all ten of them.” reo blurts out, simultaneously hiding his hands away from your view.

…what.

this is the second time you're at a loss for words because of reo. perplexed, you lean in, trying to take a peek behind his back. “your fingers seemed perfectly fine when you grabbed my arm.”

“well, a lot can happen in two seconds.”

“like…?”

“spontaneous functional impairment?”

i’ll show you a spontaneous functional impairment, you grumble under your breath. “i am not your maid.”

reo tilts his head to side, warmth radiating from the innocent smile plastered on his face. it's the same one he usually wears, the kind that makes one weak in the knees—one that you're fortunately immune to. 

(at least you think so, anyway.)

“…if i paid you, would you be more inclined?”

“piss off, mikage.”

reo chuckles, airy and soft, and you find it disturbing how a mere sound can easily disarm your guard. that's just the kind of person he is, you guess, barely even having to try yet the influence he holds over anyone (regrettably including you, to a certain degree) is undeniable. you ponder why someone like him is even here in the first place; doesn't he have more important stuff to do?

“kidding, i'm kidding! it's delicious.”

but when he assures you and you watch as his eyes crinkle with amusement, you decide not to sweat the little details. he continues, “i mean it. i’d love to have more, if you're willing, of course.”

since hakuho high is a college prep school, your school’s soccer team is weak compared to the others, not to mention fairly new, established only recently by reo himself (thus making him captain, as if he couldn't be any more popular). it hasn't garnered much attention from its students—but since this is the first official match against another school, a pretty sizable crowd has filled the bleachers that friday afternoon, excitement and anticipation buzzing in the air.

on the way to the bleachers, you catch sight of your friend and his teammates warming up while the coach gathers them to hold his final group meeting prior to the game, most of them stretching their legs and some basking under the sunshine (and by some, you mean only nagi).

after the coach finishes saying his speech to the team, reo claps his hand against nagi’s back, making the latter wince. reo just hooks his arm around nagi’s shoulder, and you see his mouth moving and gesturing towards the direction of the bleachers when his purple eyes suddenly fall on you. sending reo a small wave, he waves back at you, albeit with more enthusiasm—which also made the girls surrounding you shriek. ah, right. you briefly think that you should start acting like you don’t know him in public, on the off chance that a crazed fan of his comes for your throat just for being involved with him.

nagi glances where reo’s line of sight is. you wave at him as well when your eyes meet, expecting him to just send one back in acknowledgment, but instead he starts jogging towards you. “you made it,” he breathes out once he's within earshot. 

“i said i’d watch your game, right?” you playfully jab him on the arm, observing how his legs look way more toned than you’ve last seen. has he always been this fit? seems like all that training he begrudgingly went through has paid off. “lookin’ fresh in uniform, seishiro. sorry i couldn't make it to any practices though, i couldn't ditch my own club.”

nagi shrugs, feeling content since you still made it. he reaches into his pocket, fishing out his beloved device and handing it to you. “can you keep my phone with you? i forgot i had it in my pocket.”

after nagi gets back to his team, you end up sitting on the third row of the bleachers as you wait for the game to begin. you fiddle with the charm on his phone. he still has it attached (you make a mental note to ask him about it again later), and you notice how some of the colors of the black beads have faded. a cursory thought passes, where you wonder if it's due to age, or if he touched it too often that the oils from his fingertips have worn the surface off.

you're leaning more on the former hypothesis—you can’t imagine nagi getting sentimental over a handmade charm that’s mediocre at best. or anything at all, period.

a sudden bump on your shoulder causes you to break out of your thoughts. a deep voice hurriedly speaks out, “excuse m—”

“len?” out of all people, why is he sitting next to you? 

you’ve barely seen your ex-boyfriend in the past three years. either he's good at hiding, or you're even less popular (or involved with anyone else who isn't nagi) than you think. to be honest, you've forgotten all about him, but you can still recognize his dark eyes and, annoyingly enough, even the scent of his cologne with just one moment of appraisal.

len looks at you, eyes widened and mouth agape, before he gets up and turns around, climbing up the stairs to find a different seat. you click your tongue, slightly ticked off that he ran away from you. again. okay, whatever.

just then, the referee blows the whistle, signaling the start of the game. reo gets the ball first touch, sneaking his way through defenders with his quick thinking and passes. you're impressed by his skill, but since this is the mikage reo we're talking about, you guess you should've expected it. the team moves accordingly, passing the ball back and forth between them, intensity already cranked up to the maximum so soon after it began.

well, mostly everyone is pumped up. nagi’s half-ass running makes you snicker, and you wonder if he's even going to do anything at all this match if his slouched, lethargic posture is anything to go by. but then you catch sight of his face when an opposing player comes up to him, his visage contorting from passive to mildly irritated. it's only a tiny change, hardly even noticeable, but since you've known him for so long you've gained a good understanding of these miniscule differences. you realize his opponent must have taunted him because now he's locked in, straightening up and dashing towards the penalty area.

for a pretty lax person, you wouldn't have guessed he'd be the type to be vindictive when provoked. most of the time, he does it unintentionally, showing off his unparalleled genius with barely any effort. the ball comes flying toward him, and it almost lands a few inches behind him yet he reaches it perfectly, twisting his body to trap the ball and swiftly kicking it to the goal in one fluid motion.

not even a minute in, hakuho scores a goal, and the world abruptly stops for a second.

absolute silence falls on the field, rendering both the opposing team and the crowd too stunned to speak or even move, save for reo who just beams at the prodigious striker.

“LET’S GO, SEISHIRO!” 

the crowd subsequently erupts with deafening applause and cheers the moment they break out of their stupor, jumping out of their seats and yelling out what was that? in wonder and amazement.

nagi looks up as he hears your voice so distinctly clear from the bleachers. sure, he might have been a tad more zealous about that first goal, but it's not like it was a hard one to pull off—though you and everyone else’s reaction says otherwise, so he must've done something cool.

…still, is any of that really necessary? nagi likes that you've made it to his first ever official match, but you look as if you're one step away from joining the cheerleading squad and be his personal cheerleader. he watches as you cup your hands around your mouth, grinning widely at him across the field, and he thinks that you've never changed at all since middle school. you're always too loud, too forward, too bothersome, too annoying—

but that makes you, you. he wouldn't want it any other way.

for the rest of the game, hakuho dominates the match thanks to him and reo. at some point, the white-haired striker vaguely remembers his captain telling him about some sort of a hat trick, and that it was a really difficult move to pull off (not really) so he tries doing that just to show off a little. i mean, it's my debut, and you're watching, he reasons.

it’s over before he knows it, the score being an impressive 7-0. after the referee blows the whistle and the game ends, everyone explodes into cheers once again, nagi’s teammates huddling over, some jumping on his back and some even lifting him up. 

“nagi!” reo cries out. “wow! i've never seen you worked that hard bef— wait, where are you going?”

when nagi glances towards the bleachers again, he sees you pushing past the other students, nearly hopping over them so you can get to the field, fueled by nothing but adrenaline and hype. he shrugs off his teammate's arms around him, making a beeline towards you. he doesn't even realize what he's doing, lured by the excitement and passion emanating from your presence.

“hey, what are you doing all the way h—”

“SEISHIRO, HELLO? that was so incredible, what the hell was that?!” you exclaim, launching yourself at him. luckily, he catches you just in time…unluckily, he underestimates your exhilaration, your tackle causing both you toppling down on the grass with you landing on top of him as he lets out an oof– as his back hits the grass. “you crazy bastard. i always knew you had it in you!”

from the corner of his eye, he sees reo’s head whipped in your direction, watching the two of you intently, but at the moment none of that matters. nagi still isn’t too good at reading people's emotions, but when it's displayed so clearly before him, your earnest gaze and a smile impossibly wide that your face must've hurt to hold that for so long, he realizes you make it easy for him to understand it this time with no room for any alternative perception.

strands of your hair fall against his face as you hover above him, and the afternoon sun is just about to set, creating a warm halo against your form, and nagi thinks you look as radiant as ever.

taglist: @yoimiya-lover @i2innie

SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE i got so busy irl 😔 taglist is open! just comment ^_^ (if im unable/forgot to tag you, pls lmk!!)

[brynn-lear]

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

[healinghyunjin]

Ice

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut; mafia!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood; explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (seriously guys - don’t do what they do here, in terms of protection or consent), loss of virginity (graphic)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for a really long time, I know - but I’m finally making my way back to this blog and to writing again. I have a few fics in the pipeline, but here’s my first new release! It’s a very different style/genre/length from what I’ve posted here before; it’s a bit darker in tone and less fluffy (all’s well that ends well though lol) - so feedback and thoughts are extra extra appreciated!

Summary: Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You looked pathetic, you supposed. 

Sitting painfully alone, ignored in the midst of this packed club, idly stirring a drink you hadn’t taken a sip of, hadn’t even wanted in the first place. Your so-called date had foisted it on you…before he realized that plying you with alcohol wasn’t going to affect his chances of getting any either way, and quickly left to try his luck elsewhere. 

And it was just as well. You really weren’t cut out for this type of stuff. You’d never been, honestly - you’d gone to a few parties in college, gone on even fewer dates, and done nothing that ended up with you going home with someone. Your roommate had finally had enough though, and that’s how you’d ended up here. 

“Go have some fun for once,” she’d said. “You need to lose that V-card before your tits start sagging, love.” And before you could even think of an adequately snippy response, she’d thrown a phone number at you - a friend of a friend of a friend, supposedly - and sashayed out of your room, hollering behind her that she’d be out all night, so you could bring anyone you wanted home with impunity. 

You’d snorted, shaking your head. You? Bringing someone home? With your dating skills and general luck, you were probably gonna bring home a serial killer - if you even managed to hit it off with anyone in the first place. 

Still, you’d let her squeeze you into a pretty pink bandage dress and ridiculously high heels and send you on your way...just for it to go exactly as you’d thought it would. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, attempting to wade your way back to the bar. You could do with a tall glass of water - and maybe something a little stronger, something that you actually liked - before retreating back to the sanctuary of your own four walls and soft bed. 

Even in the hazy lighting of the club, punctuated only by disorienting strobes, it was obvious that there was something strange going at the bar. The sweaty, suffocating cluster of humans on the dance floor came to an abrupt end, with no one occupying the empty space right next to them. This section of the bar was jarringly, eerily empty, seats and counter all open - except for four men, lounging about like they owned the place. 

You knew better - you really did. But still - you found yourself pushing closer and closer, straight to the outskirts of the crowd, until you could get a clear view. Three of them were turned away from you, leaving you nothing to see other than broad shoulders and backs, straining against tight leather jackets. As for the fourth, however…

The first thing to catch your eye, unique and beautiful, even in the dim lighting, was a gorgeous black and blue tattoo, winding its way around the neck of its equally striking owner. Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold, icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You knew you should probably stop. Men like that hurt people for just glancing at them the wrong way - and here you were, having a staring match with the most ruthless of them all. 

And that’s how you found yourself in the alley behind the club, pinned against the rough brick wall - with Hyunjin pressed between your legs. He was everywhere - his lips ravishing yours with hot, predatory kisses; one hand hungrily palming your breasts, the other hiking up your dress, trailing along your sodden panties. He moaned a curse against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re ruining me,” he groaned, hand hastily dragging away from your chest to wind around your waist, pulling your lower half against his firmly. “Tell me what you want, angel,” he murmured before breaking off into a hiss, clutching at you as your hips bucked against his. 

“More,” you moaned. Your untouched, unexperienced self was overwhelmed by this man. You were stone-cold sober, your drink abandoned untouched back at the bar, but you were positively high off him, addicted to the way he was making you feel. “Whatever you want to do to me - just more.”

He laughed, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the side of your head. “You’re gonna regret that.” And he immediately made to deliver on his promise. You gasped as he flicked the embarrassingly large wet spot marring your panties, nail dragging tortuously against your clit, before drawing aside the gusset, running his fingers through your wet folds. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. “Please.”

“Begging now, huh?” He barked out a laugh, but seemed ready to comply. As he dove in for a messy, passionate, soul-consuming kiss, long fingers of one hand still working your clit, you faintly heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of his clothing, the small sigh of relief he let out against your lips as he freed his cock from its confines. 

“Last chance, angel,” he groaned out, head falling back in pleasure as his hard, hot length slid against your folds. “I’m not gonna hold back after this.”

“I still want it - want you,” you whispered back. “I can take it.”

Those plush lips curved into a wicked, almost malicious smirk. “Good.” And with no further ado, he slammed himself home deep in your cunt.

A soft cry of pain escaped your lips. It stung - but within a second, past the initial resistance, the pain had ebbed away, replaced by a curious pressure, a blossoming sensation of fullness unlike anything you’d felt before.

Hyunjin, however, froze. 

You knew he’d probably felt that thin tissue - your so-called “innocence” - give way. With ominous slowness, he slid his fingers to the place where you were connected and lifted them up to the light. In the harsh gleam of the streetlights above, the faint traces of blood - your blood - marring his pale skin was obvious. 

And when he looked at you again, those ice blue eyes were mask-like, unreadable once again. 

“You know who I am, don’t you, sweetheart?” The endearment sounded like a curse in his mouth; his tone - stiff, chillingly empty - sending a small shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, silently. 

“Then you must be out of your fucking mind,” he hissed, fingers biting painfully into the meat of your hip, body still pressed heavily into yours. “The hell are you doing giving someone like me something this precious?”

“It’s…it’s not though?” 

Hyunjin raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“I mean…yes, I’ve never been with anyone before, but why does it matter?” Your words came out in a gasp, almost jumbled - mind and body craving what had been so abruptly interrupted, the pull strong enough for you to blurt out your true feelings…all of them. “I want you, Hyunjin - I want you, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.” 

The iciness of Hyunjin’s gaze wavered, melted just a smidge. His death grip on your hip morphed into a heavy, possessive pressure; his thumb started rubbing circles into that sensitive crease separating your thigh from your waist. “Why?”

You could barely string the words together at this point - but you knew they had to be said. “I…I was alone, you were surrounded by your boys b-but - something made me feel like you were the only person in this club who felt the same…the same loneliness that I did.”

At that, his fingers stilled. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours carefully - looking for what? You didn’t know. But whatever he found…it seemed to be satisfactory. For those long arms wound tightly around you once again, hiking you higher against the rough wall.  

“Fine. You can have it your way, angel.” And as his head dipped to your neck, lips bruising the signs of his lust onto your skin, a choked moan spilled forth from your lips as those slender hips snapped into yours - pushing his cock further into you, balls deep, stretching your sensitive walls beyond belief.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured hoarsely, now driving himself into you in a steady, punishing pace. “How much would it take to fuck you loose for the first time, hmm? Maybe I should take you home and test it out,” he mused, a chuckle just this side of unhinged bubbling forth from his lips. “Tie you down and fuck this sweet little pussy until it’s swollen and red and aching.” Even just the thought made you involuntarily clench down on him, drawing what was almost a growl out of his throat. “Such a good girl.”

And you? You were lost. With just a small shift in angle, Hyunjin’s cock was now sliding right against that sweet spot, deep inside you, his pubic bone grinding deliciously against your clit. The feeling of his lithe body caged in between your thighs, crushing you in against the wall; the sinful trail of fire his mouth was leaving along the delicate skin of your neck, your throat…if you’d known that this, this is what sex was like - you would’ve had it long, long ago.

…But a little voice told you that - this might just be sex with Hyunjin that felt like this. 

And with that, it wasn’t long before you shattered in his arms, heels digging into his back as the peaks of your pleasure rolled over you - only to scream as Hyunjin’s large hands slammed you down against him, impaling you fully on his cock as, with a throaty groan, he filled you full, hot cum splattering against your sore, sensitive walls. 

There was a beat of silence, with only the sounds of heavy breathing to break the still. As you leaned your head back against the wall, struggling to come back down from your high, you could feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning through you. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, as if just to himself. You blinked your eyes open to see him watching you - but something about the way he was looking at you had changed. Where before they’d been fiery, filled with unambiguous lust, desire, cockiness - that frenzy had given way to something more…profound. Like he was trying to see you, see through you - see you for who you really were. 

You hated to break the moment - but now that you weren’t burning up with lust, the very physical ramifications of being fucked up against a wall were making themselves known to you. You danced your fingers over Hyunjin’s collarbone. “Can you…”

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, hands surprisingly gentle as they cupped your thighs, supporting your weight as he let you down from the wall. When you stumbled on landing, the strength in your legs failing you, he steadied you against him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was gruff, clearly masking some emotion he didn’t want you to see.

“Pretty sore, yeah,” you admitted with a wry smile. “But hey - makes it more memorable, right?”

It seemed like he wasn’t expecting that flippant of a response from you, for the next thing he blurted out was - “Romantic fool.”

You could tell he hadn’t meant to be so abrasive, a cloud of regret immediately passing over his face, but you knew what he meant. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off. “I know I am and that I shouldn’t-”

You stopped when you felt soft fingers under your chin, lifting your head back up. Hyunjin looked deep into your eyes, the corner of his plush mouth upturned in a crooked smile. “It takes one to know one, angel.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. It looked he wanted to, was about to say something more - but then…

“Well, well…and what do we have here? A stray dog rutting in an alleyway, tsk tsk...” An arrogant, menacing voice called out from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps - of more than one person. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin spat out, blue eyes narrowed in icy fury. “These assholes don’t know what’s good for them.” You watched as he transformed in front of you, back into that cold, dangerous - honestly sexy - mafioso. 

“You need to get out of here, angel - I don’t want those fuckers to get even a glimpse of you.” Hyunjin passed his hands over you, quickly, efficiently straightening out your clothes and his. “Can you do one thing for me? Run back to the boys and tell them that the fucking pirates are sailing in. I’m gonna need backup here.” You nodded quickly, knowing you - and he - didn’t have much time. 

Just as you turned to run away though, Hyunjin caught your hand in his, stopping you. “I…I’ll come find you, okay?” His voice was pitched low, serious in tone. You could tell he meant what he said…at least, for now. You murmured a soft agreement before making your escape. 

Luckily, Hyunjin’s boys were still where you left them. You decided to go up to the one in the middle, the one with muscles straight out of a GQ magazine, who was watching you waddle back into the bar with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. 

Bicep Boy - you might as well call him that - spoke first. “Boss still recovering?” 

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment. For a brief second, you wondered what they thought of you - wondered how many times they’d seen Hyunjin do this exact thing. The thought sent a sudden shudder of jealousy through you - but that wasn’t important right now.  

“No - he, um, he sent me to get you guys. There’s a few guys outside…and he wanted me to tell you that, uh, the pirates are sailing in?”

You startled back as their relaxed, nonchalant attitude disappeared in a flash, the three of them jumping to their feet immediately. “Fucking hell,” the man in front of you hissed, looking pissed as he fished around for a tip to throw on the bar. “Those motherfuckers just can’t stay in line, can they?”

“Wait…” the man next to him, almost drowning in a fancy mink coat, piped up abruptly. “If hyung sent her back to us…does someone need to walk her back?” The three men paused for a second, the weight of their gaze prickling as they turned to look at you again, size you up. 

“No no,” you protested. “I’ll take care of myself - they couldn’t have gotten a good look at me anyways. I’d rather you go back Hyunjin up...make sure nothing happens to him.”

From their approving looks, you’d clearly passed some sort of test. “Take this then,” the third man, silent until now, shoved a ball of fabric into your hands - Hyunjin’s abandoned coat. “That dress stands out too much - and I’m sure the boss’ll be getting it back from you soon.”

And with a surprisingly warm, friendly smile - he and the others were off. 

You were left standing at the bar, with an expensive, bulky coat in your arms and the eyes of most of the club on you. With nothing else to do, you slunk your way out of the club, just as you had looked forward to doing just a short while ago…

But why did it now feel so disheartening?

And…here you were. Alone, at home, on a weekend night - again.

You’d just curled up on your couch, idly watching TV - not because you particularly wanted to, but more because sleep had deserted you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could feel was the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch - his body against yours, his lips, his fingers on your body. 

You shook yourself off. Maybe some ice cream would help, you mused, shoving off the blankets you’d just tucked yourself into to get up. 

But then - the doorbell rang. 

For a second, you froze. You and your roommate never really had visitors…and the fear that maybe someone had followed you home from that alleyway flitted through you. 

On the other hand though…what if it was him?

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the door. Keeping the chain hooked, you slowly pulled it open, just a crack - and were immediately rewarded with the sight of those already familiar, icy blue eyes. 

Hyunjin. 

“I’ll…I’ll leave this second if you want me to,” he started, fingers fidgeting with his bracelets. “But I just felt that we left some things…unfinished back there.”

You agreed, but even if you didn’t - you weren’t going to miss out on this. 

Quietly, you let him in. Even though you were positive shit went down after you left, Hyunjin looked perfectly fine - statuesque, just as before. When you gestured to an armchair, he shook his head. “I think I want to stay standing for now.”

Your heart sunk. Maybe seeking you out, coming all the way to your apartment…wasn’t to make the gesture that you thought. Maybe this was just an apology, an attempt to tie things off between you, neatly, permanently, with a bow on top. Maybe…

Shuffling slowly back to your couch, you sat down and waited for him to speak. 

“I…I don’t do this often. I know what it might look like, but…I don’t really sleep around, chase after women just looking for a quick fuck. That’s not who I am…and that’s not what I want you…or this to be.”

At your sharp inhale, he took half a step away from you - his eyes solemn, searching yours to see what he could find. He bit his lip. “This is so selfish of me, I know…but I’d-I’d like to see you again. Take you out somewhere, more formally…as you deserve.”

“Why is that selfish?” A little bud of hope had flowered in your heart…but you were still confused by his hesitance.

He took a second to respond. “You’ll be a target, you know,” he murmured quietly, gazing down at his clasped hands. “I know a lot of dark people - and they wouldn’t give a shit about…using you to get at me. Being seen with me, being with me…you’ll never feel safe again.”

Slowly, you stood up and walked over to him. Standing right in front of him without your heels, without the wall hiking you up against him, you had to tilt your head back to actually look at his face full on - though his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours. And so, you did, running your hands carefully up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

“Then why do I feel the safest I’ve ever been, Hyunjin, standing here in front of you?”

At that, his head snapped up, finally looking at you directly. 

“I want to try this,” you told him, your voice calm and steady. “I would love to…do something more formal with you too. And…” your voice wavered, as you gathered your confidence in turn, “maybe you could stay with me for a bit tonight too?”

You wished you had a camera to capture how Hyunjin’s face lit up - how those plush lips curved, eyes crinkled up in a genuine, warm smile. “I would love to.” You felt your heart stutter, your own lips curving in response. 

“Well then,” you dusted your hands off, putting on a business-like air for him. “Let’s get you settled first. Want me to make you something? Or is there anything you want to make?”

“I’m useless in a kitchen,” he told you, cracking a sheepish grin. “But I can whip up a mean ice cream sundae.”

So, that’s what he did. You let him make you that sundae - which really was good. You sat side-by-side and watched three episodes of drama, sharing your ice cream in increasingly comfortable, companionable silence. Hyunjin didn’t need to know how much of that time you spent watching him, your lips quirking at just how caught up he got in the show.

You let him take you back to your bed, let him thoroughly, passionately destroy any innocence you had left with every weapon he had at his disposal - his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock. Once you’d gotten your fill of each other - once you let him take you and take you again until your cunt was sore and swollen, your thighs quivering from exhaustion - you laid there together in your bed - naked, your head on his chest, his arm tentatively, carefully wrapped around your waist. 

And then…he talked. About how he’d dreamed of being a painter, an artist one day…before his world as he knew it went up in literal flames. About how he would gladly kill - and die - for his boys, his strays, who’d banded around him, put their trust in him when he was nothing. About how being the boss, being the top was lonely - was stressful, painful and exhilarating, all at once. 

By the end, you could tell he was exhausted; his body had drifted down against yours, his head now cocooned against your breasts, and you both were doing your best to pretend the droplets of moisture on your chest were sweat. But still, he listened to you too, never making you feel like your problems - your purposelessness, your friendlessness, your inability to make your own dreams reality - were too mundane or unworthy, even compared to his. 

Finally, you let him pull your weary body against his, curl his lanky torso around yours. “I’ve never slept the night in someone else’s bed before,” Hyunjin offered up, voice soft and vulnerable in your ear. “That makes two of us,” you whisper back, running your fingers up and down the arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you a little closer in response - and closer still as he fell asleep, taking you underneath with him. 

Part of you had been nervous about going to sleep - in case you woke up just to find that…this had all been a dream. That you were alone, as always, in your cold bed - that you had no lover to wake up to. 

Those fears were dashed the second you woke up and felt Hyunjin’s warm presence still behind you. You rolled over slowly - only to find him already awake, watching you with a small smile. He was a study of contrasts in the pale morning light: soft, pouty lips; mussed hair - bruised knuckles; dark, swirling tattoos. He was beautiful, and - at least, for this morning, for now - he was yours. 

You shoved him headfirst in to the shower, and while he cleaned up and squeezed himself back into those delectably tight clothes from last night, you worked your ass off to make a feast for breakfast. It was worth it though - at least, the shy eye smile, the soft “thank you” that he gave you in response...it was worth it. 

And that’s how your roommate found you when she came back: the two of you perched on your rickety kitchen stools, Hyunjin’s arm now wrapped comfortably around you as the two of you giggled over a drunk video - a music video? - Bicep Boy (Hyunjin had laughed at you, telling you his name was Changbin) and the other two had fucked around shooting last night. 

“Oh!” She gasped. You whipped your head around to watch her do a literal double take at the sight of you and Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin stood up with a yawn, deliberately stretching himself to his full height. “I was just leaving.” You bit back a grin - sure, he might be shy, introverted at his core…but when he wanted to, Hyunjin definitely knew how to put on a show. So you just smiled fondly as, with a lascivious little wink, he leaned down to give you a whopping goodbye smooch, with tongue for good measure. He’d clearly listened to your retelling of your roommate’s role in this whole ordeal. 

“Bye, angel. I’ll text you.” And with a poignant look and a final squeeze of your hands, Hyunjin was off. You almost wanted to pinch yourself as another test, again. But before that - you had something - or someone - to deal with first. 

“Is that…”

“Yes,” you nodded. “The date you set me up with…didn’t pan out, but I ran into Hyunjin at the same club.”

“Looks like you did a little more than run into him alright,” a small, teasing smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. “That’s funny though. I used to…see one of the other guys from SKZ, a long while back…” she trailed off, lost in thought for a second. “It’s a long story,” she sighed, “but anyways…” She shook her head, turning her attention back squarely to you. “You and Hwang Hyunjin, eh? How’d it happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you smiled back up at her, before taking a deep breath. If you’d gained any perspective from what you’d spilled to Hyunjin last night, it would be that the only person who could lift you out of your loneliness…was you. “Wanna talk about it over breakfast?”

She stilled for a second, but you watched happily as a slow smile crept across her face.

“Let’s do it.”

As you got up to make her a plate, you heard a relatively unfamiliar sound - your phone buzzing from not just one, but multiple texts.  

> Hyunjinnie: Same time, same place this Friday?

> Hyunjinnie: If I can make it that long without you…

> Hyunjinnie: ❤️

You didn’t think your heart still had flutters left to give after everything that had happened…but here it was, flittering away. You responded in kind, telling Hyunjin you’d be counting down the days on your end too - and that was the honest truth. 

You’d just sat down again, about to pick up your fork, when your phone let out one final buzz. 

> Hyunjinnie: (Oh, and bring that roommate of yours too. I’m sure your ~Bicep Boy~ would be happy to see her 😉)

It took everything you had in you to keep a delighted giggle from spilling out past your lips. You eyed your roommate, who had a faraway look in her eyes as she methodically buttered her slices of banana. 

Things sure were gonna be interesting around here - and you were so looking forward to keeping it that way. 

[valentoru]

|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 12]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

It had been days since you had spoken with Geto. You kept in touch with him regularly and preparations for the event were coming along smoothly. In addition, Satoru would also be preforming that night to which meant he would be coming with you.

Today was Monday which meant you had briefing. However, unshockingly, you were running extremely late. Your feet felt as though they were going at one hundred miles an hour.

While waiting for the elevator you rocked back and fourth on your feet as though that would make it come faster. When the door finally opened you got in and pressed the button multiple times in hopes it would make it go faster. The door began to close when an oddly familiar well kept hand pushed the door open revealing its owner, and your suspicions were correct, it was Maki. She got in the elevator, mumbling a “hi” then proceeding to press the button multiple times as you had done before.

You both stood there in comfortable silence, praying to the Lord above that this elevator would move faster. When the doors finally dinged open you both shot out of there, run-walking to the conference room. Clearly you didn’t want to be late, that goes for either of you, but you were so late you had to be nippy with things.

The room was packed, more full than it’s ever been. It was certainly questionable. You scanned the room which long before your eyes landed on one familiar person with brilliant white hair. Satoru. Wait—

Satoru was at Monday briefing?

Geto was also here, stood at the front with the general business manager. In your two years working for that place not once had there been every single member at briefing, you were staring to think it would never happen, yet here you were, staring at the sea of people who were settling down. Many, almost half, didn’t have seats.

“I think they made today mandatory.” Maki said, “And I overheard someone the women saying that Geto is a ‘known hottie.’” Maki stared critically at him for a while, “I guess he’s cute. Though not nearly as cute as Yuta.”

You smiled. The air in the room was hot and humid, smelling like sweat and too many human beings. “I can’t believe we actually have to do this. This is probably a fire hazard and not even remotely relevant to our work.”

“It beats going actual work.” She grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the throng of people crowding the entrance. “Besides, it’s looking like this guy is going to take you from me pretty soon.” She was joking, clearly, however she wasn’t entirely wrong, you had been spending a lot of time with Geto recently. “Consider my presence next to you as the equivalent of a father cleaning his rifle in front of his daughter’s boyfriend before prom.”

“Aw, daddy.”

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who had noticed Satoru. Maki happened a sharp elbow into your ribs, “Hey look, you man’s there, why don’t you go ask him for a seat?” Even though you could tell she was joking from the way she wiggled her eyebrows at you, you could also sense the seriousness in her voice. You felt yourself heat up. You could no go and sit on your fake-boyfriends lap. That would be insane. Then you remembered, to Maki, he’s your real-boyfriend. You reasoned that if you wanted this whole thing to be believed you probably should go do as she suggested.

The idea was completely and utterly insane, why were you considering it?

Your cheeks reddened again at the sheer idea. There no way on earth you’d do that. But then again—

Before you could finish your rationalising, you looked at him again knocking you off your train of thought completely. He was eating his usual clothing and in deep conversation with, Shoko, much to your shock, you’d never seen her here before, nor had you pictured Satoru talking to her. Weird collab. When his eyes met yours, you grinned and waved at him. For some reason that likely had something to do with your huge, ridiculous, unlikely secret.

“I can’t believe they didn’t move this to be in a bigger room. There’s not nearly enough space. Oh, no. No, no, no.”

You followed her gaze, a few more people had arrived. The crowd immediately started pushing you toward the front of the room. Maki yelped when some guy who weighed about four times as much as she did stepped on her toe. “This is ridiculous.”

“I know. I can’t believe more people are—”

Your hip bumped against something—someone. You turned around to apologise and—it was Satoru. Or, Satoru’s shoulder. He was still chatting with Shoko who wore a displeaded expression, muttering, “Why are we even here.”

“Because he’s a friend.” Satoru said.

“Not my friend.”

Satoru sighed and turned to look at you.

“Hey—sorry.” You gestured to the direction the entrance. “A bunch of new people just form in apparently the space in this room is finite. I think it’s a law of physics or something.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’d take a step back, but—”

At the front, the general manager of the company started introducing Geto.

“Here,” Satoru told you, making to stand from his chair, “take my seat.”

“Oh.” It was nice for him to offer. Not fake-dating/to-save-your-ass, spend-twenty-bucks-on-junk-food-for-you nice, but still very nice. You couldn’t possibly accept. Plus, Satoru was more prestigious than you, and definitely older than you and all that. He did look fit but probably had a bad knee or something and was only a few short years of osteoporosis, “thank you, but—”

“Actually, that would be a terrible idea,” Maki interjected. Her eyes were darting between you and Satoru. “No offence, Gojo, but you’re three times larger than our dear Y/N. If you stand the rooms is going to burst.

Satoru stared at Maki like he had no idea whether he’d just been insulted.

“But,” she continued, this time looking at you, “it’d be great if you could do me a solid and sit on your boyfriend’s lap, N/N.” She smirked to herself. This bitch. “Just so I don’t have to stand on my toes.”

You blinked. And then you blinked again. And then you blinked more. At the front the general manager was still introducing Geto—“he’s going to be with us for a while so I hope that you guys can welcome him.” But her voice felt as though it was coming from far away. Possibly because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Maki had proposed, which was…

“Maki I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled under your breath, avoiding glancing in Satorus direction.

Maki gave you a look. “Why? You’re taking up space we don’t have, and it’s only logical that you use Gojo as a chair. I would, but he’s your boyfriend.”

For a moment, you tried to imagine what Satoru would do if Maki decided to sit on his lap and figured it would probably end up involving someone being murdered and someone doing the murdering—you weren’t sure who’d be doing what. The mental image was so ridiculous you almost giggled out loud. Then you noticed the way Maki was looking at you expectantly. “Maki, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because this is Monday briefing.”

“Psh. Remember last year, when we saw that one couple making out for the whole of the planning for an event.”

“I do—and it was weird.”

“Nah. It wasn’t. Also Megumi swears to God he saw that one tall guy getting a hand joy from—”

“Maki.”

“The point is, no one cares.” Maki’s expression softened into a plea. “And this girl’s elbow is punctured my right lung, and I have about thirty seconds of air left d please, Y/N.”

You turned to Satoru. Who was, very unsurprisingly, looking up at you with that nonexpression of his, the one that you couldn’t quite decipher. Except that his jaw was working, and you wondered if maybe that was it, the last straw. The moment he backed out of your arrangement. Because millions of dollars in a contact couldn’t be worth having some girls he barely knew sitting in his lap in the most crowded room in the history of crowded rooms.

Is this okay? You tried to ask him with your eyes. Because maybe this is a little too much. Way more than saying, ‘hi’ to eachother and having a cup of coffee together.

He gave you a brief nod, and then—you, or your body, was stepping toward Satoru, you were stepping towards Satoru and gingerly sitting on his thigh. Your knees tucked between his spread legs. It was happening. It had happened already. You were here.

Sitting.

On.

Satoru.

This. Yep, this.

This was your life.

You were going to murder Maki. Slowly. Maybe painfully too. You were going to be jailed for bestfriendicide, and you were a-okay with that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to Satoru. He was so tall that your mouth was not quite level with his ear. You could smell him—the woodsiness of his shampoo, his body wash, and something underneath, dark and good and clean. It felt familiar and after a few seconds you realised why, because the last time you smelt it you had been this close. Because of The Night. Because of The Kiss. “So, so sorry.”

He didn’t immediately answer. His jaw tensed, and he looked in the direction of the general manager, Satoru had long left now and the manager was going over her regular speech. On any regular day you would have payed attention, even gobbled it down, you enjoyed logistics and economics but right now you just needed out. Of the talk. Of the room. Of your own life.

Then Satoru turns his face a little and told you, “it’s okay.” He sounded a little strained, like nothing about this situation was, in fact, okay.

“Im so sorry. I had no idea she would suggest this and I couldn’t think of a way to—”

“Ssh.” His arm slid around you waist, his hand coming to rest on your hip in a gesture that should have been unpleasant but just felt reassuring. His voice was low then he added, “it’s fine.” The words vibrated in your ears, rich and warm. “More material for my complaint.”

Shit. “God, I’m so sorry—”

“Y/N.”

You listed your eyes to catch his and was shocked to find him…not smiling, but something like it.

“I was kidding, you weigh nothing.”

This was just…seriously, this whole business, it was completely, utterly…

Comfortable. Satoru Gojo’s lap was one of the most comfortable places in earth as it turned out. He was warm and solid in a pleasant, soothing way. He didn’t seem to mind too much having you half draped over him. After a short while you realised the room truly was too full for anyone to be paying attention to you, except quick glances from Shoko, who studied Satoru for a long moment then smiled warmly at you before focusing back on the briefing. You stopped pretending the angle where you were forcing your spine to sit up right was comfortable and allowed yourself to lean into Satoru’s toros after five minutes, he didn’t do anything to stop you but instead angled himself a little, just to help you fit more comfortably.

Somewhere, half way through you realised you had been sliding down Satorus thigh. Or, to be fair, Satoru realised and lifted you up, straightening you in a white pull that made you feel like you really didn’t weigh anything. Once you were stable again, he didn’t move his arm from where it was, snaked around your waist. His cheeks curved ever so slightly.

You looked to the side, “has it been hard? Having to lie to Geto about us?”

Satoru seemed to think about it, “No.” He hesitated. “It looks like your friend is buying that we’re together.”

“I think so. Im not exactly a convincing liar, and sometimes I worry that Maki might get suspicious. But I did walk in on her and Yuta making out in the kitchen the other day.”

TAGLIST(32/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @fushigurosgirl @littlecritteryay @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee

AN:

Uhm okay! It’s okay.

© valentoru all rights reserved- do not publish my work on other platforms, plagiarise or translate.

[saikokirakira]

We're Not Married Yet [Jake Lockley x Reader]

word count: 2.5k

summary: you received nothing but radio silence from your partners for months. one day, jake comes home and calls you by an unknowingly offensive endearment. your insecurity acts up, and jake won't give up control until he fixes it.

a/n: more ANGST. MORE! *insert kylo ren meme* don't worry though. it's just miscommunication. also, it's time for our boy jake to shine and show his simpery. and the thought of this fic came from listening to "porque" by maldita and also finding out that querida is an endearment in spanish. in filipino, it means the complete opposite opposite – a married man's lover/mistress.

warnings: can be standalone; ANGST with fluff ending; hurt and comfort; separation anxiety/fear of abandonment; miscommunication/language barrier; insecurity in a poly-relationship (hinting at my wife layla in the loop as well); jake lockley is a simp and kinda romantically intense; use of chavacano (spanish-creole filipino language) by a non-speaker (so idk how it would translate for jake who is fluent in spanish) (just assume he does understand it lol)

It has been months. Months since Marc woke up and said Khonshu needed him somewhere. He and the god insisted that you stay home after a little mishap got you seriously injured from the last mission. You didn’t argue.

You just wished that there wasn’t any radio silence between you and them. When the first week passed, you managed to find out that they were with Layla, but neither of them bothered to call. They just left you to be the goldfish sitter. Not that you minded that much at first. You knew that Marc was still bothered over the fact that he accidentally killed Real Gus.

During the first month, you thought you were going crazy. You stopped by every day at Steven’s flat to feed the Gus-es and check his tank. Then you’d make yourself some tea and call out, “Do you want one, Steven?” before realizing that you were alone.

Halfway through the third month, you somewhat grew accustomed to the routine. Sometimes, you would spend the night at his flat, not because it was easier – it was harder actually – but because you were afraid that you might forget them. It was a silly thing to worry about, but you didn’t want to be so used by their absence that the feelings would just go away.

You used to have a whole speech on what to yell at them the moment one of them steps through that door, but now… you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d be lucky if you’d get a word out as a matter of fact. Maybe you could get a slap in.

They came back on the last week of the fourth month.

You just finished cleaning the two Gus’ filter, which probably took longer than you should have. You felt like you were running slow when you woke up that morning. Putting on music on the speakers, you had planned to make a quick sandwich for lunch then curl back in bed.

Bakit sa’yo pa nagkagusto? // Why did I like you out of everyone else?

Parang bula ika’y naglaho // Like a bubble, you disappeared

Between the heavy daze in your mind and the music crooning all over the flat, you didn’t notice at all that the front door swung open. You had your back to him when Jake silently set his newsboy cap and leather gloves on the side. He was very careful that you weren’t holding anything that would injure you or him when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

As expected, you stiffened and immediately relaxed when you recognized that scent. You hated how you still know it too well. The flat had been long cleared of any of their scent after the first month, and you cried about it for a whole night once.

But now, you weren’t sure what to feel. Like you expected, you wouldn’t muster any words. You couldn’t even distinguish the emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach. Anger, relief, sadness, happiness?

Instead, all you said was “Jake?”

He merely hummed then buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in after months away. He didn’t want to let you go, even when you tried to move so you can turn to face him. He immediately felt months’ worth of tension leave his body. That and the soft music playing in the background started to make him aware of his fatigue.

“Let’s go to bed, hm?” you offered, catching the slight tired slump of his shoulders.

Jake hummed in acknowledgement again, but instead of walking normally, his hands moved from your waist to threading your fingers together, swaying you through the music across the apartment. Jake held you close to him as you both continued to sway in the free space near the foot of Steven’s bed. He didn’t understand a word of what the song meant, that is, until the chorus played again.

Bien simple lang I yo tapidi // What I ask is simple

Era cin ti tu el cosa yo ya cin ti // I hope you feel my sorrow

Jake still didn’t understand it completely, but fragments of the lyrics, chosen few of the words, he caught and interpreted the gist of it. He stopped moving and tucked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Is that how you feel, querida?” he asked.

Jake didn’t miss how your eye twitched at the nickname.

You tried to not to let it bother you. You really did. It’s his endearment for you. Jake rarely fronted, and when he did, he was incredibly loving towards you. There was no reason to take offense on what he calls you.

Hiding your discomfort, you buried your face in his chest and continued to sway. “It’s just a song, Jake,” you said. “My playlist is on shuffle.”

Na dimio rezo ta pidi yo // In my prayers, I ask

Era olvida yo contigo // I hope I forget you

“Well, I don’t like it,” Jake said bluntly with a plump pout on his lip. He stopped dancing once again and walked to turn off the speaker. “Let’s go to bed, querida.”

Again, Jake saw you relent but not only after you exhaled in a self-soothing manner. He pulled you under the covers, and you fell asleep within a few minutes. You seemed tired, emotionally drained to the point that you’d sleep to avoid them, and even though Jake was exhausted as well, his worry for you now kept him up.

I told you we were gone too long. Can she no longer stand endearments? Steven piped in their head. Let me have control. I want to talk to her.

“I’ll fix it,” Jake assured him, cutting himself silent when you stirred. He tucked you deeper into the covers and watched the furrow between your brows relax.

Jake will fix it. He always did. That’s why he’s fronting now when the others couldn’t even forcibly take control. Something was wrong.

~

When you woke up a few hours in the late afternoon, you were still tangled up in your boyfriend’s arms. You couldn’t tell who would be out once he woke up, but you were sure that if it were either Marc or Jake, they’d wake up as soon as you sit up in bed. Your thoughts were answered when the grip around your waist tightened when you tried to slither off to the corner of the bed.

“Marc?”

An agitated huff told you that you were mistaken. The sleepy daze immediately wore off. If he was still fronting, something might be wrong. “Is everything okay, Jake?”

“I don’t know, querida. Is there?”

At his pointed question, you immediately closed up. “You’re the one who disappeared for months without contacting me,” you shot back. “I’m surprised you didn’t mail me divorce papers as well.”

“We’re not married yet, querida.”

You scoffed and got out of bed, stomping your way to the kitchen. You took the tea tin and took a bag, then slamming the cabinet shut. It was only until you were filling up the kettle on the faucet did you realise your hands were shaking and tears were dripping on your outstretched arms.

Well, done, Fabio. You really did so well. Marc snarked at Jake from the mirror in front of their bed. Let me out.

“No.”

Let me out! Marc demanded.

Let him out, Jake. Steven pleaded. She needs—

“What? You? Us? Who exactly? We left. Everything will be exactly the same if either of you comes out.”

From the kitchen, you peered at Jake arguing with Marc and Steven from the mirror. There was no doubt they all were concerned now from your outburst. You didn’t even know why you were upset.

Well, you were, are, upset that they disappeared like ghosts for months. What you didn’t understand was why Jake’s endearment bothered you even more. It was an endearment. It’s not like he knew your language that well to deliberately calling you negative names.

Jake was cursing up a fury at the mirror when you silently sat on the spot beside him at the edge of the bed. He immediately stopped staring at his reflection to look at you. Really look at you. That’s one thing you loved about Jake. His gaze made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered to him. More than Khonshu. More than…

You shook the thought from your head. It was absurd to be jealous of your lovers that way. It wasn’t fair to you nor was it fair to them.

“Talk to me,” you said, grasping his hand in between yours.

“You didn’t deserve it. I know you deserve better, but I want you, cariño. You’re all I’ve wanted. I will always come back to you.”

In the background, you heard the electric kettle click itself off, but you were more focused on Jake baring his feelings for you. He was barely around for as long as you knew Marc and Steven, but he had never failed in being sincere with how he felt for you. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed.

Jake’s face fell, and if you could only see what he saw, Marc lowered his eyes in the mirror, while Steven retreated back in the recesses of their mind. Even Khonshu was eerily silent and nowhere to be found, which was odd enough as it is. The god was fond of you in his own way that he kept a safe distance hovering nearby.

“Don’t be,” you said. “I know what I signed up for when I decided to be with an Avatar.” You let out a weak chuckle at the unintentional reference. “Steven would’ve loved that one.”

“Do you wish to talk with him instead, cariño?”

You didn’t miss the hurt that seeped through Jake’s words. You barely spent time with him, and you knew him the shortest. You shook your head and cupped your hands over his cheeks, tilting his head to face you.

The same furrowed brow wrinkled his forehead again, and if it wasn’t for the stiffness in his eyes, the conflicted look behind those brown orbs would’ve easily misled you to think he was Marc. Jake’s hard expression was easily remedied when you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. The hurt and fear were now exposed, and you had to come clean with your own issues.

“I’m not mad that you left for months,” you said and immediately caught yourself at Jake’s pointed look. “Okay, yes, I was mad, but only during the first month, especially when I found out that you took Layla with you.”

“It wasn’t all us, love.” Steven snuck out for a moment. “But she was also worried that it was too early for you to take this mission on.” His eyes rolled back, and Jake was back, annoyed from those few seconds of being interrupted.

“Sometimes…” you took a deep breath, finding the right words to say, “I feel like I’m just a liability to you guys, you and Layla.”

This time it was Marc who took the wheel. “You can easily put us on our asses, baby,” he laughed softly, trying to lighten your mood. “Sure, we’d put up a fight, but your powers are kinda scary sometimes.”

Your hands pressed against Marc’s chest before gripping his jacket in tight fists as if you were scared that he’d vanish after your next words. “That’s not what I mean, Marc.”

When the realization dawned on his face, Marc immediately cupped your face. “Why on earth would you even think that?” he asked, hurt from your words and from how you felt. “I mean, you were dating Steven when he had no idea of Layla and my existence, and we were even on the verge of divorce by then.” He continued, “and Jake… Well, I think Jake only likes you. That ass only shows up when one of us are dying or when it comes to you.

“And Layla adores you. Otherwise, she didn’t finish our job for us just so we can come back to you,” he added. Swallowing whatever weight that clogged his throat, he finally said, “You’re a part of this crazy relationship whether you like it or not.” Realizing what he accidentally implied, he softly asked, “If… if you were to leave…” He trailed off, his voice ending in a shuddering breath. His shoulder tensed for a split second, and he was gone, overwhelmed from his own fears.

“We will marry you in a heartbeat,” Jake said, grasping your hand. “If that meant you would never leave us.” That wide-eyed gaze he pointed at you showed that he was frighteningly sincere.

But it was quickly cut off with Steven nervously chuckling. “If you would have us, love,” he said. “Of course, consent is key. No need to be psycho about it,” he shot a pointed glance at the mirror.

You exhaled, feeling all the tension and issues wafting away from a single breath. “One thing though,” you stated.

“What is it, querida?” Jake returned, and this time, he finally noticed the twitch in your eye from the endearment he gave you.

“Two things I hate though,” you corrected yourself through gritted teeth. “Call me anything but that word, and propose to me properly. And we won’t have any problems.”

Jake would never admit it but the coldness in your voice and suddenly shifting to a sweet smile after you listed your terms made the hairs on his arms stand a bit.

Later that evening, Jake discreetly looked up what ‘the forbidden endearment’ meant on Steven’s phone. He sucked in a sharp breath at his massive mistake, and a pit formed in his stomach when it sank that he had been accidentally feeding your insecurity all this time. He immediately rushed over to you on the stove and pulled you into his arms.

“Jake! What the—” Unable to pull yourself out of his embrace, you barely managed to reach for the stove and turn the heat to low before you accidentally burn down his flat. “Now barely seems like the time to—”

“You’re the only one for me. I revere you. I fear you. I worship you. Cariño, mi vida, mi corazón​…”

You laughed in the midst of your confusion while Jake pulled you in for a tight hug. “What brought this on?” Your eyes landed on Steven’s phone at the kitchen counter with the latest search page still on display. A more genuine smile tugged at your lips as you buried your face into his chest, embracing his warmth.

“Also, I’m marrying Layla first.”

SMACK!

You barely registered the sting on your bottom when you were pushed away. Steven’s wide-eyed puppy eyes gazed at you in horror. His mouth hung open in surprise as he raised his hands in innocence.

“It wasn’t me. I swear!” Steven cried out. Then he paused, glancing off somewhere. “Jake says he’ll be back once he gets a ring before Layla comes home next week.”

[stormblessed95]

Okay so I’m on my fourth watch of the travel show

It gets better the more you watch, they are just so much fun

They have me smiling from ear to ear the whole way through

I know there is a lot of conversation about the car conversation but seriously, apart from Jungkooks beautiful ‘finally’ (and I’m glad that is in English so we hear it without mistranslation), what struck me upon this watch, is that he could actually mean them being in content together. 

Hear me out, but the kid spent the better part of the first half, and even to a degree still asking in the later half, of 2023 begging to go live with Jimin, inviting him over on lives. Including the bed begging live days after this filming, and now I’m framing it that he was probably thinking they have filmed this show, why can’t they have a live? I know that the show wasn’t going to be aired straight away but I can totally see him going with that thought. 

But it just struck me, he’d been asking and probably denied so many times, whereas Jimin had gone live with Yoongi and Hobi etc during work promotions, but denied JK. This was his olive branch, his two birds one stone, a trip for them to spend time together when free, but also for them to be alone in content (albeit airing a year later atp). If we remember too that they could not leave SK without work and a permit, the chicken and egg, hence the show. Jimin had the time at that point to plan it with the company, it makes sense he pushed it, though I’m sure Jungkook was involved too. 

People are moaning about Jungkooks attitude and they are so wrong and miserable, not to mention they misunderstand him. They guy is glowing with his Jimin, he’s being cheeky and kids around and it’s so beautiful to see it. To see their dynamic, as they are. 

Seeing them say they hasn’t planned another trip in NY, and the Forbes article said this too, they must have thought it a success enough to plan jeju and so on. I think a post from another blogger here also helped frame this for me, bc at the end of the day they talked about and proposed the show, just the two of them, to the company and needed a deliverable product. This involved planning to a degree, scouting locations and a vague idea of activities. They definitely had more freedom than Bv, and they had to rely on their natural chemistry, which is there in spades, but they still had to deliver/ this is where Jimins panic comes in when he is sick, bc he has to power through to make the show work, hence the are you sure? It’s so logical when I think about it all in that framed way. 

And mainly I think this also because they do not present as people who had had a falling out, or massive distance, or had issues, or something more ridiculous people are proposing. I mean logically do we really think Jimin (sensible Jimin) would even think it a good idea to do this if there was bad blood or feelings. Exactly, he would not.  There was no tension there, not that I saw anyway. They just vibe with each other. They present as pretty domestic, in tune and loveable goofballs. 

Also when you think about MS application being a month after this, they had to have seen and spoken to each other, it’s a complete reach to think they didn’t. Also, it’s their habit, Jimin literally said the same sentence in the very brief restaurant scene, that JK says to him in the doc and we know that was a complete fib. Also I feel the way JK looks at the camera in that scene and in the hand holding scene is very telling about how he felt around the cameras at first, especially when Jimin touches his throat, like he hesitated. 

I also hold in mind that at the end of the day we got about 5/10% of their time on screen, the rest is on the cutting room floor, and also probably not even filmed (esp given Jimins condition). Leaving them plenty of time for them. 

Just my thoughts. 

.

[kenny-the-ken]

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

All characters mentioned are aged up, they're all 18/19. Mentions of drugs, alcohol, sexual content, strong language and a lot of angst!!

Kenny's day started off similar to most, and a lot earlier than you might think. Kenny may need rest, but Mysterion doesn't. Everyone knew who he was, and what he did to those that deserved it.

But during his quieter hours of the night he'd always stop by two particular people. The first being the most obvious was his sister Karen, she needed him and by god was he going to help her.

The second was the one he kept strictly to himself, just for his own piece of mind was y/n, his girlfriend of four years, she was one of the few to know his true identity, the only person on this damned planet that could remember his deaths, and the only one who truly held his heart, and in return he held yours and wether it was in life or in momentary death, he was going to do whatever it took to protect you.

He would always check by your house, and climb up to your bedroom window, just to check that your were okay, and to still be close to you.

But tonight was different than most, you had gone out for a girl's night with Wendy, Bebe and Red, he had to know you were okay, especially when going home.

The night air was cold as you were leaving the nightclub, the four of you had drank way more than you thought you had and were stumbling a little bit upon exit.

You all laughed together, and trying to wave down a cab outside the club, it was 2am and everyone had found a cab, but not you. You were alone when you started making the short walk home, and Mysterion was on high alert. That was when he heard it, an approaching group of men, rough, rowdy and extremely drunk, he became even more worried for your safety.

They approached you and made a few rather suggestive comments, which Mysterion did not like one bit and upon hearing them say that they'd like to take you to their place he began his decent from the roof of the above building.

He dropped onto his feet in front of you, and gave you a quick wink before standing to face the four men that stood in front of him.

"Talk to my girl like that one more time, I fuckin' dare you!" He said calmly, staring his four contenders in their eyes.

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it question mark?" One of them said, the other three snickering and before any of them could react, Kenny had already gripped the man by the head and brought it down hard against his knee as he kicked him.

The crack of his nose and the blood that poured from it was something you'd never get out of your head ever again. The other three ran quickly the fourth bleeding one being slower to run while clutching his nose with both hands trying desperately to get the blood to stop.

Kenny then turned to you, a small smirk on his face. "Next time you can't get a cab, call me up. I got saved up to get a phone for a reason." He said, a smile on his face.

"But seriously, are you okay?" He questioned, his gaze softening towards you. "Yeah, I'm okay." You said, smiling back towards your boyfriend. "Thank you, Mysterion." You said with a wink.

"Come on, I'll take you home. It's not safe out here at this time, especially when you're looking this gorgeous." He smirked, taking your hand within his.

"You fancy staying over tonight? Or have you to get back to saving the streets?" You teased, slurring your last few words due to you being drunk.

"I think I could take one night off, Karen's at a friends house." Kenny replied. "So, you wanna fuck me when I'm dressed like this or?" He flirted, taking his hand from yours and instead putting his arm around your waist.

"I always knew that one day you were gonna ask me that question."

"So... more importantly, is it a yes?" He pressed further, a full smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, you look pretty hot. I mean, you always look hot, and it's nice seeing your whole face, babe. You really are so pretty." You rambled, making Kenny go from cocky to a blushing mess within seconds.

"I- I'm not pretty, I'm a guy." He argued, waving his hands as he spoke.

"Tell that to Princess Kenny, I think she would definitely say otherwise." You teased back.

"You know what, let's just get you home and I'll show what I think pretty is." He said, as you laughed at his reaction.

"And what is pretty to you, Mysterion?" You pressed on. "Your face when I make you cum round my cock." He whispered into your ear as your cheeks began to burn a deep maroon.

"K-Kenny!" You slap him on the arm, laughing a little.

"I don't know this Kenny you speak of, I'm Mysterion." He said, joking with you as you finally made it to your front door, unlocking it and opening it up. "Well, come on Mysterion. Upstairs. Now." You pointed and Kenny was glad to oblige. He only ever aimed to please.

"I think from this point forward, I'll be making the rules, is that clear, princess?" He replied, backing you up against the living room wall.

"Yes, Mysterion." You said, receiving a sharp spank on your ass cheek.

"I think you'll find its, yes sir." Kenny said, the cockiness dripping from him.

"Yes, sir." You replied, before Kenny's glove clad hand slid his hand under your chin, tipping your face up to kiss you.

"I'll give you 30 seconds to get up those stairs and into that bedroom and then I'm coming for you." He growled, his voice husky.

"Yes, sir." You replied, beginning to go upstairs as you heard Kenny reply to you.

"Good girl." He winked, following right behind you as quickly as he possibly could, the pair of you giggling on your way.

A long night lay ahead for Mysterion, but it wasn't like he lacked stamina, especially when it came to you.

[bloodyjuls-blog]

The worst of us (part 2)

Here's the second part. We gonna have a third part and maybe fourth amongst this week (I go to Uni) (let me know if you like the drama or less drama for next part)

"Hi, y/n" Leah said. "Hi capi how are we doing" I said in a shaky voice. "what's up y/n, are you crying?" Leah said concerned by my tone of voice. "it's just that i messed up in a way" you said with a shrinking voice. "what did you do y/n and why do I get the feeling it has something to do with Alexia" Leah said more seriously. I told her what I had heard in the locker room... "but that's ok innit" "she visualized with you in the long run" she said calmer. "yeah but you know how much I went through before I met her to have to deal with that" y/n she said calmer " "I thought you had everything under control y/n" Leah said flatly. "that's what i thought, everything was fine until a few months ago, she found the bottles in the dishwasher and didn't say anything. how the hell did she not say anything, being a footballer and drink without control" you said hysterically. "but you can go to therapy again, you can control it" said Leah. "I feel like all this pressure from marriage and kids, media, Giraldez, it's drowning me LEAH. Ahh fuck, I'm going crazy" "who do you think you are to cross the traffic light like that, fucking crazy" you said in a way that even you don't recognize yourself. "Y/N calm down now, I hope you're not driving" "Of course I'm driving Leah" "Alexia decided it was best for me to leave, it's all fucking over. I can't take it anymore" you said crying. "Don't do something crazy please, if you're going to drink, go home, it's safer" said Leah in a worried tone. "No tonti, I'm not going to do anything bad," you said more calmly. Yet another lie, I thought. Of course you spent the whole night drinking at the 24h market close to home. You'd be as dead as a doornail the next day at training

Next day at training

"Well girls, as we all know, we have the champions match day coming up, I want everyone to be plugged in and eager to win," said Jonatan. "Yes coach" we all answered in unison. Once on the court the group was divided by positions and it was my turn to play against Alexia. Not surprisingly, none of the girls spoke to me. They were clearly leaning towards the captain. That made me very angry, that I hadn't done anything wrong enough to be disowned. To say I felt bad was too little for everything that was crossing my mind at the time. One thing they tell you is not to mix work and home but when your home is your colleague it becomes impossible, let alone seeing her as beautiful as ever. In a different situation, the girls would be more supportive and condescending to me but no, today was the day to make my life a hell.

A couple of exercises later I felt like I was going to faint, the spring heat and the monumental hangover I'm carrying don't help. In one of those passes that I have to receive I get lost and my team yells at me in a way that is so fucking scary, those beasts are scary. Alexia looks at me with rage, I don't think I've ever seen her so upset with someone, not even with the fucking gals of real madrid. If these things happen to me because I'm stupid. To say that right now I was at my strongest mental point is a lie, but I was doing what I could. In one play we had to clear the ball and of course as my luck couldn't be worse today I had to receive in front of Alexia. Not having the physique today to give it my all, Alexia got there first and threw a missile in my face. "Ouch" I thought as I fell unconscious on the grass. Alexia approaches me and tells me in the most venomous way possible "let's see if you wake up and stop drinking. The example you set for the little ones. Very good, very good". At that moment I couldn't think of anything but pain and Alexia's words. I think if I had to compare it to anything it would be a stab in the back. Alexia knows my weak points and yet she uses them against me.

At the medical room they put ice packs and ointment on my face for the bruises. luckily nothing is broken beyond an eyebrow. I head home before and out of nowhere I get flashbacks of all those times I was told that I was not a good example, that I was not enough, that I should not spend my time in football, but what bothers me the most is that it reminds me of when my father told me that I was a bad example for my nephews, because of them I changed. Sometimes things do not turn out the way you want. And as I knew that this day was going to end worse I decided to take a flask of whiskey in my backpack. It was not a good idea.

As I go into the locker room to get my stuff I hear the girls laughing about something Alexia said. I let myself listen to her a little bit because I know that when I go in they will shut up and give me funny looks. I hear her say "maybe it wasn't the right time or she, all of a sudden her alcohol problem came back". But since she is so sneaky about telling my stuff to the others. "Alexia you can just shut up and stop telling my things, at least respect what I once in privacy told you" I said it in the most calm and broken way possible. Suddenly because of the alcohol I had already had. They all went quiet and went back to their things. Alexia looked at me and I grabbed my stuff and left. Bad idea, I couldn't drive with alcohol on me. Fucking alexia, fucking family club, fucking liquor. Angry, I got in the car to go to my special place.

In the locker room the English girls came in, joking about y/n had brought a flask of whiskey and hadn't hesitated to drink it during practice. All the girls reacted and started to worry. "What's up girls?" said Keira, still laughing. "What's going on here is that most of the people here have been making fun of y/n and her alcohol problems, thanks alexia, and now she has gone home in her car drunk" said Ana a little more upset. To tell the truth Ana has always been on my side, it has to do with the amount of years we have known each other, I consider her one of the family but with the alcohol recently, I have moved away a little.

Already in the car I'm a little dizzy, everything is spinning and the memories are killing me. To say that driving like this is ok is reckless, don't do it under any circumstances. A couple of hours later I find myself back in Alexia's neighborhood, wandering around like a fool, as if she was going to show up. I decide to go up the Tibidabo but in the vicinity I come across a curve which I try to maneuver as best I can but apparently it beats me. The only thing I remember is calling Alexia. "Hi y/n, what do you want" says Ale a little angry "Hi bonita, I want to hear you and I want you to know that I love you with all my heart" you say almost without air in your lungs because of the blow "and please forgive me for not being enough for you, I swear that everything makes sense, but there is nothing to do anymore. That you were always a family to me " "why are you saying that y/n, I'm getting worried ""where are you ""goodbye alexia, I love you" you said before you hung up and your whole world turned black.

[thebiggerbear]

Six Sentence Sunday - 7/21/24 - Soldier Boy x Reader

A/N: I decided to do something a little different this Sunday. I wanted to share excerpts on my WIP's (series/mini series) that are currently open/posted. I was going to put all of them in one big post but that ended up not working out for various reasons so I separated them all onto their own individual posts.

So this scene is an excerpt from a future chapter of Keep Me Inside. Another preview but I'm truly trying to strike a certain tone of in Chapter 1 and get it right because that is going to kick off everything and once it starts going, it's going. So, that's why I've been working at it as long as I have even though it's already written. The following isn't much but I didn't want to give too much away from this upcoming scene. I took out any specific spoilers. A lot more than six sentences, I admit. All unbeta'd.

Please let me know what you think in the comments below.

Warnings: language

Series

Works Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin; @deans-spinster-witch; @bts24

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @syrma-sensei; @deangirl96; @beskarfilms; @siampie ; @everysage; @globetrotter28; @roseblue373; @hobby27; @stoneyggirl2; @bambiegaze

Soldier Boy Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @faephoria; @believeinthefireflies95

Call My Name | The Ghosts Are Coming For You | Only Ever Holding Onto You | Follow Me Into the Dark | Their Silent Thunder Matches Mine | i need your hand but i don't want to burn it | i want better for you...what's better for you than me?

“Are you for fucking real? You’re telling us to back down? From him?” MM demanded, gesturing in Ben’s direction. You could see confused expressions on Hughie’s, Annie’s, and Frenchie’s faces. Kimiko arched a questioning brow over at you. 

“I need you to trust me, MM. Put the gas away and stand down.” Your gaze snapped back to Butcher. “Please,” you added in a quiet plea. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, studying you.

You felt Ben come up behind you. You almost hated how attuned your body was to him now. “Do as she says and no one gets hurt. Don’t and I blow this place to hell.” You saw everyone on the team tense in preparation.

“Pull the trigger, don’t pull the trigger, I don’t care. But you’re letting her go first,” Butcher growled.

“Oh, nice,” The Legend quipped. “Just let him go off like the Fourth of July in my building, yeah sure. I let you know your girlfriend is alive, she ruins my eighty thousand dollar couch, and this is the thanks I get.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” 

You and Butcher both had said it at the same time.

“Man’s still in fucking denial,” MM muttered. 

“Seriously,” Hughie whispered, shutting up as soon as Annie sent him a glare.

“Bien sur.” Frenchie shook his head, exchanging a glance with Kimiko who shrugged.

Ignoring everyone else, Ben’s eyes were for Butcher alone as he placed a hand on your lower back, smirking over at him. “I’m not holding her here.”

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[sirdindjarin]

The Choice - (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

After returning Grogu to his kind, the Mandalorian must also face the consequences of his bounty hunting. Or:Din Djarin Has Two Very Bad Days.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

A/N: Canon-divergent - Grogu is saved at the Seeing Stone. Citing again my same sources from The Concession.

TAGS: two smut scenes, helmet stays on, helmet comes off, child neglect lmao (din trusts grogu not to get into trouble way too much), angst, fluff, light torture lol, allusions to sex, P in V, rough-ish P in V.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

It happened slowly. The change that the Mandalorian wrought in you, though dramatic, was one born of love and patience. While he had always detested your acting like a servant to him, now you were banned from even feeling like a lesser lifeform. Din insisted you learn whatever he could teach you. You needed to know how to protect yourself, and how to trust yourself. He had even demanded that you learn to control the Razor Crest. That had been a scary day. 

Day by day, you began to see yourself through the Mandalorian’s eyes. Self-esteem through your own merit bloomed, and it was the encouragement of Din Djarin that watered the soil. 

Once, during a particularly grueling training session, Din saw defeat darken your eyes though he hadn't yet won.

“No. Don’t do that,” his modulator flatly stated as he relaxed his posture.

A caught breath later, you'd asked what he meant.

“Don’t concede the fight before it ends.”

“You’re going to win. I’m terrible with strategy.” 

“Then rely on your strengths. You are quick. Resourceful. Don’t give up again.” 

He had waited, patient and calm, until he saw the fire return to your eyes, and then he sprung at you. 

Your favorite weapon was the smooth beskar spear Din had been gifted by the Jedi he’d met. It was hard to hide your admiration of it. An ideal weapon for you, it was your frequent choice during your sparring matches. You’re grateful Din even allowed you to touch it. But Din was far from offended by your fascination and talent with the spear; he found it turned him on, actually.

Days spent sparring always ended in another, more intimate, type of physical activity. Sometimes, such as the day he watched you give up, it was tender and slow. Sometimes it was as desperate and aggressive as the first time he had taken you for himself. You loved both.

Tonight, after he eases himself from you and tucks you in his lean arms in the dark, he is quiet. Though Din was often contemplative after lying with you, this silence has the strain of anxiety. It sets you on edge. You let him drift through his own mind until finally his low voice fills the tiny room.

“As a Mandalorian, removing my helmet is forbidden. While I have technically broken this rule, you have not seen my face.” It's obvious he's thought about this in depth; the tone of his voice is rich with unseen emotion. “That intimacy is reserved for committed partners. For those who share in a riduurok.”

You don’t mean to tense up, but his seriousness forces every fiber of your body to listen, to absorb his words. 

“You okay?” He murmurs when he feels it.

You nod on his chest, so he continues.

“When a Mandalorian removes their helmet for another, they are asking that a decision be made. You have known me as no one has. When my helmet is removed, free of all impediments, then will I be asking that same question.”

What decision was there to make? To explore your options? You’ve been enslaved for most of your life, but even you can see that this - this with him - is as good as life gets. There was nothing more you could ask for, let alone want. If you were going to tie yourself to anyone, it would be Din Djarin - a man of sheer will, loyalty, and an Outer Rim type of honor. Your body relaxes.

“I understand. If that moment comes, I’ll have an answer.”

“It is not a question of ‘if,’” he states, his sultry voice full of restrained feeling. 

You can’t see him, but still your head tilts up to his face. You let your fingers drag through the patches of hair along his jawline, and then you press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck. 

“I mean, I can give you my answer now… if you’d like?” He can hear the smile in your voice.

His muscled arm pulls you tighter against him, as though your answer might be no. You hear Din’s hair scratch on the durasteel wall as he shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you. I only wanted you to understand the way I will do this.” 

The room quiets again as you trace his lips, then his throat, then lower. Small bumps appear on his skin, and you brush over them. 

“I’ll never understand why this feels as good as it does,” he sighs contentedly. “All we are doing is touching.” 

Agreeing, you laugh, “I don’t either. But I never want it to end.” 

“Good,” Din gruffly replies.

___________________________________

The Mandalorian feels the time slipping through his grip. Too many weeks had passed since his meeting with the Jedi. The Seeing Stone awaits Grogu. Determined to do right by the child and his creed, Din finally navigates to Tython. You watch from the Razor Crest as Din cautiously sets Grogu upon the Stone. Din waits. You wait. 

For hours Grogu sits there, consumed by the blue light around him, reaching out. When the sun begins to meet the rocky horizon, Din treks back to the Razor Crest to check on you, and that’s when everything falls apart.

***

As you lean forward in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian swoops his creaking ship down an embankment and fires upon an errant Imperial TIE fighter. You’ve been around good pilots, but Din is the best. Despite the grief you gave him for continually abusing his ship, he truly is talented. 

Another TIE fighter screams past, and Din pulls the Razor Crest up from its dive. He fires two blasts, but his first shot was true. The TIE fighter explodes.

On the Stone below, as Din makes another pass, you can see pure Force flowing around the child. His eyes are closed. 

“How much longer can this take?” You ask rhetorically. You know Din is as exasperated as you are. Probably more so.

“I tried to get him back, but the shield was too strong.”

“I don’t think that’s a shield, Din. It’s the Force.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t let me get to him,” the worry in his modulated, tired voice breaks your heart. 

“In that case, at least he’s safe,” you try to reassure the Mandalorian. “If you can’t get to him, neither can the IMPs falling from the sky.” 

Din presses his lips together underneath his helmet. While you have a point, he wouldn’t feel right about this until the child was back with him. 

The Mandalorian has been shooting down incoming Imperial fighters for almost an hour, and he’s starting to believe it won’t end when his radar picks up a different, older spacecraft. You shoot forward, staring at the viewer. 

“Is that an X-wing?” You ask incredulously. “The Republic came all the way out here?” 

If it’s Republic, that means it’s low on Din’s priority list, so he pays it much less attention than the three TIE fighters that break the sound barrier above him. 

You’re suddenly thrown back in your seat when the Razor Crest’s shield system rings the alarm and Din calmly spins the ship skyward, arcing over another ridge to maneuver out of the target lock of an IMP. When he banks, he yanks the thruster backward, and the TIE fighter screams by. Din wrenches on the trigger and the black craft disappears in a ball of fire. 

Rising up through the flame, another black fighter barrels down on the Razor Crest. Before Din can shove the Crest into a better attack position, the third fighter flanks him. You hear the Mandalorian sigh. 

From the east, red laser blasts blow apart the first TIE fighter, and then the second. The X-wing flies lazily through the debris, looping above the rock where Grogu sits. 

A crackling sound pops into the cockpit of the Mandalorian’s ship, then a dignified, cheerful voice speaks.

“My name is Luke Skywalker. I’m here to help the child.” 

Uncharacteristically surprised, Din had been expecting that X-wing to be carrying some stuffy officer bent on harassing him, not a kriffing Jedi.

He hits the button on the comms.

“I can’t get to the kid. He’s stuck inside that Force… shield.” 

“I see him. Looks like he’s sleeping.” 

Sure enough, as Din crests the hill, the blue light flowing around Grogu is gone. 

“There will be no more Imperial fighters for a while. You’re safe to land.”

You make a skeptical face, wondering how the Jedi could know that. Reaching forward, you tenderly grasp Din right above his elbow. Din’s tension is greater now than while he was shooting down scores of the Empire’s best. 

For the Mandalorian, that had been the easy part.  

***

By the time the Mandalorian settles the Razor Crest down and the two of you race to the top of the rocky ruins, Grogu is awake. The Jedi, Luke Skywalker, is seated and clearly performing some kind of Jedi magic to read Grogu’s thoughts. 

Grogu’s ears perk up and he turns from Luke when he hears the clinking footsteps of the man striding toward him. He raises his childlike arms, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy.” 

Grogu babbles in the cradle of Din’s arms. His head swivels to look back at Luke.

“Your young one is strong.” 

Din nods, his two-toned glove on Grogu’s back. You step up behind the tall Mandalorian. Reaching around the broad man, you rub Grogu’s ears. He purrs under your affection. 

Luke speaks again, “I can see he was well cared for. Grogu is very fond of you both.” He frowns. “Attachments are forbidden to Jedi. Emotion clouds our judgment. It’s best that he learn the ways of the Jedi -  and when he is older, he may make his own decision.” 

“Yes. I was tasked with bringing him to his own kind,” the Mandalorian’s modulator hides most of his voice, but the devastation radiates from him. He tilts his helmet down to the child.

Grogu, eyes shining, reaches up to touch Din’s helmet, expressing his feelings for the man who has protected and loved him.

“You have to go with the Jedi, pal,” Din murmurs, hating the words.

Grogu whimpers, his ears drooping, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Din begins to lift his helmet. 

Inhaling sharply, you move further behind the Mandalorian and drop your gaze. This moment is between Din Djarin and his kid.

_________________________________

“Ducked in there,” you tilt your chin at the seedy cantina door. 

Several members of the local crime syndicate stand outside smoking death sticks, the smoke spiraling up into the vibrant night air.

“You good?” Din asks, his hand reaching toward you protectively.

You wipe your lip free of blood, “Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“When we go in, we cir-”

“I know, Din,” you smile fondly at him. 

In the past year, you’ve completed plenty of bounty jobs with him. It was easy to use the same tactics on different targets, so you’ve become familiar with the Mandalorian’s strategies. And anyway, it made sense. Of course you would flank the quarry.

Din watches, not a little besotted, as you confidently walk into the business full of slimeballs. It always ached to let you go into danger, but that was why he spent hours each week pouring his knowledge and experience into you. You’ve always been capable, strong, and as ruthless as he is. Din follows you inside.

The thumping bass and flashing lights play with your eyesight. Unlike the Mandalorian in his enhanced helmet, your eyes were susceptible to any kind of trick or weakness. You squint slightly against the glaring lights. When you sweep the room, you catch sight of Din circling around the far side of the bar. He inclines his head at you, then disappears. 

One of the red strobe lights twists from the stage and into the crowd, and that’s your excuse for not seeing the quarry as it hurtles into you. They tackle you, taking you to the sticky cantina floor with a wheeze. The blue, humanoid woman lands another blow to your face before you overpower her, ripping her off you. You nimbly get to your feet, drawing your blaster. The woman grins wickedly from her seated position on the black floor, then she feints to the right.

“Stop. Stop moving,” you warn, the barrel of your blaster now pointed at her head. 

The pounding music makes the quarry’s voice near inaudible, but you hear her snarl, “I know about you. You’re a karking slavegirl. Where’s your master?”

Insults had run out their efficacy on you fifteen years ago, and this weak attempt is no different. You look bored. 

“Give me your wrists,” you indicate with your chin. And when the woman’s eyes dart to the exit, you shift on your feet, stating, “I don’t want to blast you.”

Suddenly noticing the scuffle, a stranger looks from your pointed blaster to your face and shouts, “Hey! No officers allowed.”

“Not Republic,” your eyes stay glued to the woman on the floor. “I’m -” 

Your sentence ends when the stranger - a large, Dyplotid with four eyes blinking simultaneously - wraps a massive hand around your blaster arm. You whirl, trying to break his hold, but he’s much too strong. Instead, he curls his arm around your throat and squeezes. Your eyes refocus as you watch the quarry sprint to the door. 

A man, his armor reflecting the rotating colored lights, lunges at the quarry, gripping her arm. Using her own momentum, he flips her onto the floor and snaps binders around her wrists. It’s then that he looks up to see why you had allowed her to get so far. 

Abandoning the quarry, Din strides powerfully forward, his steel gaze locked onto the Dyplotid, when its head jerks.

A hole burns through its arm, and the Dyplotid stumbles back, clutching and screaming at it. You let the blaster fall away from where you'd placed it against his arm. Shaking your head in annoyance, you look up at your partner. Din carefully, wordlessly, raises your chin, looking you over.

“Let’s just get her out of here,” you grouse. 

***

In the cockpit, while Din freezes the quarry, you begin the takeoff cycle. Grumbling under your breath, you mentally poke at yourself over your failure with the quarry. Muffled steps echo as Din climbs the ladder. 

“You did good,” Din quietly praises when he reaches the top.

He swivels the pilot’s chair you sit in around to face him. He knows you’re upset. Standing, imposing as always, he watches you duck your head in shame. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get so close. If I had been faster -” you stumble over your thoughts. “I’m a liability to you. I’m not a good partner if I get caught up like that.”

Din leans, his hand tilting your face upward again. 

“You are not the only one who gets into fights. What matters is that you get out of them. Which you did.” His thumb presses against your lips, and his voice turns suggestive. “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

His advising words will take root and grow, but his offer is one you can’t accept. Because he can see your distress, Din would be gentle and sweet, and you don’t believe you deserve that at the moment. 

“I don’t feel right about you taking care of me,” you admit. “I want you to be mad at me.”

Din’s beskar mask tilts in interest. He nods once. Your eyes drop to the grooved, durasteel floor, knowing he will leave you to your task. 

The Mandalorian pulls off his gloves slowly. He tosses them on the control panel behind you where they land with a dull thud. You look up at him - a question in your eyes. 

“Stand up,” his modulator orders. His chin tilts upward.

“Din -”

He leans forward a fraction, his body eclipsing all else.

“Stand."

A knot forms in your gut, and you obey him. He doesn’t back up, so you’re forced into his personal space. The Mandalorian’s hands slide underneath the bottom hem of your top, palms against your skin. His callouses leave a burning trail.

Din’s hands stop their advance on your ribcage. You know what he wants, so you lift your arms. His skin skates over yours as he rips your top over your head, leaving you exposed in his cockpit. Your eyes toss him a shy look, and Din feels something dark take over. 

He grips your upper arm and pushes you over to the side panel. Din turns you to face the exterior. His hot palm lands right at the top of your spine, and he bends you over the chair. Desire coils and pools where you want him most. Your hands grasp at the bottom edge of the side windscreen.

Thank the Maker Din landed on the outskirts.

Din shoves your pants down your thighs, grunting airily as he does so. One of his rough hands comes around to grope at your breast, lazily rubbing at your peaking nipple. Moderating his strength, his boot kicks your foot to the side, allowing him to fit closer.

You can hear the rustling of his flight suit, and you clench in anticipation. A rush of wetness dampens your thighs when he thrusts his velvet length against your folds. Encouraged by your arousal, he continues.

“You wanted this,” he gruffly warns not a second before he draws back and spears his cock inside you. 

From the outside of the Razor Crest, if someone stumbled past in the vast landscape, they would see your mouth agape, your body jolting, and the Mandalorian fisting your hair. They would see him slip a hand around your throat, thrusting you back onto him. 

But they wouldn't hear the rhythmic slapping, the duet of pleased and desperate sounds from two drunk voices.

Your mind is numb with the plunging feeling of the Mandalorian splitting you in two. Something heavy and metallic falls to the floor, rolling away. Then Din's scruff scrapes against your spine as he hunches over you, wantonly biting and sucking at your shoulder. 

His pace is intense, and if you close your eyes, hyperspace is passing through your eyelids. He grunts as you clench down on him, legs shaking. Your knees knock into the edge of the chair with each thrust. Filthy are the squelching sounds that your joining bodies make. 

"D'you still-" he groans when you arch, allowing him deeper. "You still want punishment?" 

It's not a real question. He was never going to deny you pleasure. This is as close as he can get to hurting you.

Din slips a hand between your legs, his fingers performing your favorite melody. You throw your head back, body locking as your orgasm builds. When the pressure shatters into bliss, your moans, your fluttering around him has Din fighting his own peak.

Arm barring your chest, his other hand cups your throat and his unveiled cheek presses against yours. You slam your eyes shut, wanting to experience every bit of his touch and ignore the temptation to look at him.

"Damn, you’re squeezing me s-" he mutters, but his words end in several rough groans as his cock pulses violently. 

Cheek to cheek, his lips hang open right next to yours. He pants, his cold chestplate stinging your back, as he releases himself. Din relishes the way you whimper in tandem with each of his spurts inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder and brushes his lips along the bruised skin he finds there. The two of you stay motionless for a moment, basking in it. It’s one of the best experiences you’ve yet had with him, and you’re unsurprised he came so quickly considering you did as well.

Din allows his hands to linger - he skims your chest, your sides, then gently cups your ass as he pulls himself from you. The Mandalorian's sweet, unmoderated voice cuts the silent cockpit.

"Turn around.” 

Though he is uncovered, his request tells you that he's not intending on asking you anything, so you face him, eyes shut.

His soft lips pry yours open. He kisses you with sensual tenderness, as though he wasn't just ramming you against a window. His wide tongue slowly drags through your mouth, over and over, upending your sense of direction. Din's hands cradle your jaw, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. 

Tears spring up behind your eyes at his care. You drift toward him, craving his steadiness. When your naked chest touches his beskar, you shiver.

"Sorry," he remembers your state. 

Din lets you go and you wiggle your bottoms back up, head down. The Mandalorian crouches and picks up his helmet, replacing it. 

"You did well today. I am proud of you," Din's modulator lets you know you can open your eyes. “Do not argue with me.” 

He drops into the pilot's seat and finishes getting the Razor Crest ready.

You laugh, biting your lip. “No point,” you tease. “It’s only another thing I wouldn’t win.” 

The Mandalorian’s head swivels to you, and after a pause, he deadpans, “You didn’t learn much just now, did you?” 

You smirk at him. “You’ll have to explain it again.” 

***

The Crest drifts past an exploded star. Long had it burnt out, no cause for current concern. Din Djarin simply wanted you to see it. The gas and debris that hang in spacetime manifest in purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It’s incredible - unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Sitting in your usual chair, your lips are parted slightly in awe as you take it in.

The Mandalorian has seen it before, so he watches you instead. Something heavy presses on his chest, and he can’t quite put name to it. He feels as though he weighs as much as the karking ship he pilots. 

You make a comment to which he doesn’t respond, so you tear your eyes from the view outside to the view inside. He’s facing you, his shoulders hunched. 

“Din, what’s wrong?” You immediately push out of your chair and reach for him. 

Caressing his helmet, you frown, knowing something is brewing underneath. Sometimes, you hate that helmet. Though you know it as Din, and therefore love it for that reason, the human connection that it cuts him off from saddens you.

“Nothing is wrong,” he flatly asserts, though he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You touch your forehead to his and he inhales sharply. You take his hands - blessedly ungloved - and settle them on your waist. 

“You miss the kid,” you state gently.

Din does not allow the stinging in his eyes to become tears. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth to allow a pained sigh to escape. Din finally identifies the weight pressing on his chest. It’s a void. You and Grogu make up his heart, and with either of you missing, the emptiness makes itself known.

“Could we not go see him?” You murmur, drawing back to look at the Mandalorian.

You smile at the thought of Grogu’s excited coos, the way his ears would perk up at Din’s voice. 

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair, renewed by hope, “You're right. We should find him. Make sure the kid’s alright.”

_______________________________

Din Djarin found the location of the Jedi's training facility easily. All it took was tracking down an old Republic archive worker, bribing them to provide Grogu's implanted beacon code, and then finding a device capable of tracking such an outdated string of symbols. 

It took the Mandalorian less than two days. 

The new problem was that the Razor Crest suffered a hull puncture during an unforeseen meteor shower. Frustration and impatience line his back and bow his shoulders as he lands the Crest on the nearest populated planet. Repairs would take at least a day, and that was a day that could've been spent getting to the kid.

"This planet is in the same system as Charal. Where you dishonestly obtained a room for us."

You laugh, "I remember that planet for an entirely different reason."

The T-shaped, black slit turns to observe you. 

You oblige him with an explanation, "It was the first time you touched me." 

But Din was already smirking underneath his helmet.

"I remember."

***

Walking alongside and slightly behind the Mandalorian, you hide your grin at the way he parts a crowd. You watch as people eye him as a danger, and others eye him as an object of interest. For all his social isolation, he drew attention like a tractor beam with that swaggering confidence and gleaming beskar. 

And he was all yours. 

You wait a few steps away while Din trades credits for some type of food you’re unfamiliar with. The Twi’lek vendor actually bats her eyes at the Mandalorian. When he drops the credits in her hand, she stumbles over her words when his glove contacts her skin. From a distance, you grimace - whether in embarrassment for her or irritation on your part, you’re uncertain.

Seemingly oblivious to the Twi’lek’s distress, Din wordlessly rejoins you, touching your elbow to indicate his presence. It wasn't that he didn't notice the attention, it was that he didn't care. Though you never doubted the man raised on devotion and respect, it was a balm to your disquiet soul that you could trust him in every way imaginable. 

A few minutes later, he abruptly swivels his head to you, “I have something I need to do. I’ll find you.” 

The fingers on Din’s right hand twitch as though he wants to touch you, but something tells him not to. The Mandalorian could never be certain whose eyes were watching. Instead, he bows his helmet solemnly at you, and disappears down a narrow alley. 

Din had mentioned a task earlier, so his departure was expected; but now you had to face the thronging marketplace by yourself. The last time you were alone amongst a crowd, you were running for your life from a frothing bounty hunter on Niamos. 

While Din had bought food for the two of you, your goal is to get the little womp rat something. So, you straighten your shoulders and stroll down the busy venue. 

Your attention is fully focused on sorting through the unreadable languages, garish banners, and hot smells to find something that Grogu might like when the hair on the back of your neck rises. Swearing you felt a puff of air on your skin, you furtively search, but the milling crowd gives nothing away.

So many eyes and yet none of them seem to be looking at you. Continuing past several chrono traders, you slink down a peaceful side street. It’s shaded from the pinkish sun by balconies and overhangings. 

Forcing yourself to relax, you lean against the smooth, exterior metal wall and close your eyes. You let your mind wander back out into the mass of lifeforms, wondering who had gotten close enough to feel their breath. You try to absorb any shred of detail you can hear or remember.

Your eyes snap open when you realize, with a self-conscious scoff, that you’re imitating the way Grogu reaches out with his mind. But something is wrong. Something is coming. Angling your body to peek around the corner, your eyes frantically search the crowd.

Where is Din?

Before you can finish worrying about the Mandalorian, a hand slaps across your mouth, effectively silencing your startled yelp. Then another hand, cold, immutable metal, manages to snag both of your hands behind you. Thrashing, you jerk your head around, vainly hoping Din decided to play a cruel joke. Instead, a female cyborg grins maliciously down at you. 

You allow her to drag you away from the mass of innocent people, fighting convincingly the entire way. She smells like unwashed armpits and oil. It’s foul and you fight a gag as her arm winches your throat.

Once out of sight of innocent bystanders, you suddenly drop all of your body weight to your knees, and she toddles off-balance. Thrusting your shoulders forward, you throw her over you. She lands with a guh! as the wind is knocked from her. 

Able to assess the threat now, you take stock of her cybernetic left arm, waist, and left leg. Her right arm, right leg, chest, and most of her face are still flesh. The cyborg snarls at you and rolls to her hands and knees, preparing to spring at you, when you draw your blaster and fire from your hip. A move Din made you practice daily.

A pathetic, horrible sound issues from the woman as the blaster bolt burns through her right eye and she falls to the ground, smoking. 

***

As he struts back through the town, the Mandalorian weighs the small package in his hand with contentment. Though you had loved that beskar spear, the Armorer was right: it was far too dangerous a weapon, and it could serve a greater purpose. 

Din is thrilled with his deception. There hadn’t been any damages to the Razor Crest - well, not any that couldn’t wait a little while. Din simply needed a reason to land on this planet and find his Covert without you asking him a thousand questions. 

Now, his task is complete. Grogu will have something to keep him safe and remember Din by, and you’ll have… the Mandalorian’s smirk falters a little when his thoughts consider your reaction to what he had made for you. He rarely second guesses himself, if ever. But this is territory he never considered.

All at once, he notices that people seem nervous for a reason other than him; he can hear the hushed whispers between friends. Din’s keen ears latch on to the word ‘abducted.’ His heart rate kicks up.

He tucks the small package of gifts into the pocket behind his belt, and lengthens his stride. The Mandalorian flicks on his heat sensors, but there’s too many warm-blooded species swirling about, and he growls as he flicks it back off. 

To Din’s left, two booths set up to sell chronos are quickly packing their wares away; they look considerably more afraid than the rest of the crowd.

“What happened here?” Din demands of the closest shopkeeper, a Trandoshan. 

The chrono seller winces as a Mandalorian stalks toward him, and rapidly answers: “A girl was abducted. Right there -” he jerks his hand to the side, pointing at the alleyway next to his booth. 

“What did you see?” Din isn’t threatening the Trandoshan, but his quiet, forceful voice certainly sounds like it.

“I- I don’t want to get too inv-”

Din’s body language shifts ever so slightly. He cocks his head; and that’s all the Trandoshan needs to restart his sentence.

“Human girl. She was being dragged off by a karking cyborg. It was terrifying; I tried to help her but the thing was too big,” the giant lizard’s words flow so fast, they blur as though he took a shot of spotchka before answering.

Din lurches past the vendor before he finishes his second sentence. Though the Mandalorian has no proof you are the girl in question, the knot in his gut and the hollowness in his chest tell him all he needs to know. 

Heat sensors back on his viewscreen, Din follows the yellowing, fading trail. The tunnel-like road is utterly quiet; it’s clear it’s a residential street, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

The trail ends in an expansive lot. It’s a confusing tangle of heat signatures in the dust, and Din can’t make out exactly what happened. He switches the sensor off again and crouches to examine the footprints himself.

Someone had been dragged. Din looks up and to his right. A small ship idles on the far edge of the field. Scanning the ship, he identifies two lifeforms - at least one is female. The Mandalorian's footsteps are quick and quiet as he approaches the small-scale freighter. The boarding ramp is down, so he slips on board. 

At the far end of the cargo hold, in a pile of cargo hauling material, lies a female body. Din knows without further examination that it is not yours. Over the past year, Din Djarin had memorized every facet of you; he committed you to memory like each entry was a precious artifact. And this body is decidedly not yours. 

Din switches his heat sensor back on to look for the other lifeform, but a brutal blow to his ribs sends him on his side. Din scrambles to his feet and is shocked to be staring into the face of Con Macta. 

“Come to settle a score?” 

The Mandalorian goes to draw his blaster, but, from behind him, the arms of the female cyborg cinch around his neck, tightening rapidly. Too quickly for Din to react, Con Macta stabs through Din's flight suit and into his bicep with a syringe. Unconsciousness steals the Mandalorian.

***

The cockpit of the Razor Crest is cold, silent. 

Cara Dune’s blue face greets you with a grimace. 

“It’s good to see you, but not like this. I sent his chain code to the Razor Crest. And, hey,” she frowns. “I can be there in less than a cycle.” 

“In that time, I’ll have found him,” you insist. “Thank you for searching the Republic database." 

"Anything for you two,” she smiles grimly and the visage fades. 

You spin away from the fading hologram and begin powering up the Razor Crest's navicomputer. The hologram of the star system flickers to life in front of you. Two planets fill your vision, and on the planet adjacent to your current position, a small yellow dot blips. 

Slightly taken aback that Din is no longer on the same planet, you recover quickly. It doesn't take much for you to add up all the evidence. A cyborg attacked you and now Din is on Charal.

You bring up the entry log from that cyborg job a year ago. The data screen reads in Aurebesh: 

Con Macta - Stormtrooper, 607th Battalion - Missing/Killed in Action 1 ABY. 

You frown. Either the database had missed an important detail, or the female cyborg was on a revenge mission. Chewing on your lower lip, you’re finally thankful Din taught you how to fly.

***

Brought to wakefulness by searing voltage in his veins, Din's jaw muscles are forced taut by the current, preventing his pained groan from escaping. His entire body tenses painfully.

Laughing cruelly, Con Macta cuts off the switch on the dirty, steel wall. 

"Good afternoon, bounty hunter. Really didn’t think you’d be so easy to capture. I didn't even have to go looking for you. You thought your apprentice was on my ship, didn't you? Very touching, your affection for her." 

Din doesn’t reply, too busy catching his breath.

“I sent my own lady friend to snatch her up, but your rather wily apprentice almost killed her. Say hello, Venita.”

Venita saunters toward the containment field Din is suspended in and taunts, “Hello, Mandalorian. You really were a disappointment compared to your friend.” 

“You know, we never did find your real name. We found your apprentice’s, but yours seems to be kept in a secure section of Imperial files. Very interesting. And in that case, don’t worry about dying here. You’ll be going to meet them next. They pay top dollar for their bounties.”

The Mandalorian does not speak. Hanging as he was inside this energy field, there was little he could do. Whatever he’d been injected with still held him in a dazed consciousness. 

“You were all bravado when last I saw you, Mandalorian. What’s changed?” Macta goads. He flips the electricity on for a second, then cuts it again. “You don’t like this? This is what you forced me back to. My maker created me here, in this filthy lab, against my will. Poor stormtroopers. We’re all pulse-cannon fodder or failed experiments.”

Din once again does not reply. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give Con Macta any sense of satisfaction.

The cyborg huffs. “You’re far more boring than the last time we met. I guess I’ll have to find your apprentice. That will make you lively.” 

The Mandalorian forces every ounce of will he has into not reacting to that statement, but his sudden rigidity gives him away.

“I can find her, Con. Let me have another go,” Venita begs in a hiss.

The cyborg takes his demented friend by the arm, leading her out of the room. 

Din can just make out his answer: “We’ll both go. If she’d blasted your real eye, you’d be dead.” 

The Mandalorian growls with frustration. It’s essentially useless to struggle. Containment fields are made of pure energy. The control panel with the large, white power switch sits unhelpfully across the mid-size, gray room. 

The cyborg had yet to remove Din’s helmet, thank the Mythosaur; but Din is unable to reach the vision-changing settings, so when a small, dark shadow creeps in from the steel doorway, the Mandalorian squints to hurry its focus. The light from the containment field blinds him to much of what occurs outside its glow.

The shadow moves to the control panel, and Din loosens his muscles in preparation. Tensing would only make the spasming more painful. To his great shock, the blue energy field suspending him disappears and he falls to the ground with a clang. 

Groaning, still groggy and in pain, he unsteadily rises to his feet. They must’ve accidentally released him and now he had to fight. But as he continues to squint, a soft, anguished voice comes from the direction of the control panel.

“Din! Dammit, what did they do to you?” 

You hurry to him, sliding your shoulder underneath his to stand him up fully. 

“I’m alright. Injected me with something,” he shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The two of you move toward the exit. “How did you find me?” 

“I ran to the Razor Crest right after I was attacked. I had a bad feeling, so I holocalled Cara to give me your chain code. Can’t have been much more than half an hour behind you.” 

Underneath his helmet, Din’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You were smarter than I was,” he chuckles. 

“I was terrified,” you whisper.

His arm clutches you to his side and he rubs his thumb across your hip soothingly. 

Din releases you to retrieve his blaster from its place on a table. They hadn’t removed any of his other weapons; he supposes they didn’t deem it necessary. He feels a little insulted. 

Suddenly remembering, Din jerks his hand to the place he’d held yours and Grogu’s gifts. Empty. He growls under his breath. 

You peek around the open doorway out into the hall. Your options are left or right. Following the same way you came in, you go right. 

“Those two droids,” he says it like the slur it is to him, “went this way. Stay alert.”

Two blasters are pointed down the dark hallway as you and Din skirt the circular building. It was shaped like a moisture silo - round and high. You’d set the Razor Crest down a click to the west. All you needed to do was find the busted ventilation grate you’d entered through and sprint to the ship. 

In the poor light, you can’t see the object flying at you. A weight slams into your stomach, and you crumple to the floor. Unable to catch your breath, you try to duck out of the way when the gleam of a metal arm comes at your face. It stops mid-air with a dull sound, and you focus your eyes to see that the cyborg’s fist has been caught by Din’s hand. 

The mechanical woman rips her arm from his grip right as he tries to grab a better hold. She disappears into the darkness. You fire your blaster in her direction and the instantaneous red beams of light creepily illuminate the hallway. It’s too brief to confirm, but at the apex of the curve, two figures seem to be lurking. 

The Mandalorian is a protector; dividing his attention between you and the threat is as easy as breathing. He flips on his dark-vision, and with his other hand, he gently helps you stand. Slowly, you get to your feet, clutching your ribs.

“You okay?” His voice is clipped, worried and angry.

“Yes,” you groan. 

His world lights up a sickly green. The two antagonists are at the apex of the curve, believing themselves to be hidden and waiting in ambush. 

“For an ex-stormtrooper, he is extraordinarily unskilled in tactical matters,” Din whispers drily. 

The pain in your torso spasms when you snort a laugh under your breath. “Can we make it out alive before you start imparting your wisdom, O God of War?” 

The Mandalorian’s hand splays across your lower back in familiar affection. He keeps his eyes trained on the two cyborgs as they crouch in wait. 

“They’re setting a trap for us.”

“What do we do?”

“Walk into it."

“Are you still feeling that drug in your system?”

“Yes. Start firing when I do.”

Advancing on the hidden threat, you keep your blaster at shoulder’s height, waiting for Din’s cue. Blood red light casts the hallway into faint relief as the Mandalorian’s blaster repeatedly fires. Your blaster joins his, and the two of you continue approaching the now-dodging cyborgs. 

The female launches at you again, apparently very upset about her missing cybernetic eye. This time, with Din’s dark-vision, he sees it coming. The Mandalorian bumps into your blaster, preventing you from shooting him in the back, as he lunges in front of you. He catches the woman mid-air and brutally throws her to the ground. 

You poke out from behind him and fire another blast at the oncoming Con Macta. His yell changes in pitch when your shot burns through his left thigh. Limping, his charge is slowed considerably. 

In the split second you take to shoot at Con, the Mandalorian is kicked in the back by Venita. As she gets to her feet, Din twists and fires at her. His blast does not go through either eye, but through the center of her forehead. 

Con Macta’s roar echoes throughout the building. The mechanical mixes with whatever’s left of his humanity to form an utterly hair-raising lament. 

“Mandalorian, you’ll watch yours die for that.” 

The cyborg steps underneath an exterior grate, and in the faint, purplish light, you can see that he had undergone further modification after the Mandalorian had taken out his bounty. Before, his entire head was flesh, now only his eyes and mouth remain uncovered. His cheeks and forehead are plated in a tan, utilitarian metal. His thin upper lip snarls. 

“I also have this.” The cyborg pulls a fist-sized red and white bundle from a pouch on his hip. 

Din tenses beside you. 

“Let’s see what’s inside. I hadn’t gotten around to examining my spoils yet, but I’m curious what a minimalist Mandalorian could be carrying so dearly.” 

As the cyborg looks down to untie the material, the Mandalorian raises his weapon and pulls the trigger. Con Macta stumbles as the bolt hits him in the arm. The package drops to the steel floor with a muffled clink. 

He roars again, charging at the two of you. He dodges the Mandalorian’s blasts until finally he leaps, knocking Din to the ground. Unwilling to accidentally shoot Din, you try to get an angle on the twisting cyborg. Deciding that was no good, you finally just kick Macta’s partially-human head. 

The tortured, destroyed ex-stormtrooper cries out and wobbles to the side, giving the Mandalorian an opportunity. Still pinned, Din thwacks his right leg on the ground, firing a knee rocket directly into the cybernetic back of Con Macta.

Following the ear-splitting explosion, the cyborg delivers a groaning death rattle, and slowly collapses to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The Mandalorian hefts to his feet, and quickly walks to the small bundle lying on the dirty floor. He brushes it off absentmindedly, and turns to you. 

"You still okay?" 

Nodding, you move toward him. He holds out his hand, palm down, and jerks his head toward the exit.

__________________________________

Grogu sits on a yellow stone. His eyes are closed and his breathing is audibly shallow. His mind is focused on the incoming ship. The Jedi across from him can feel it, too. 

Luke Skywalker frowns with acceptance. The child had made its choice. 

***

“You’re very quiet,” you observe, hoping Din will tell you his mindset.

He doesn’t. The Mandalorian continues performing the landing cycle with rote movement, jostling slightly as the landing gear settles onto the gravel below.

“I can’t wait to see him,” you smile, peering out the glass, hoping for a glimpse of the kid. “His little face -” 

“I know.” 

You press your lips together in a knowledgeable smile. Din is anxious. 

***

The boarding ramp lowers, and you bounce once or twice on the balls of your feet. Beside you, Din is composed except for the fingers on his right hand. As the two of you strut down the ramp, a figure in form-fitting black materializes from the treeline. 

“Hello. I was expecting you sooner, actually.” Luke smiles. “You really do care for the child to have denied yourself for so long.” 

The tall grass sways for a second before Grogu flips out and onto the gravel path. 

“Patu!” The child begins waddling toward the Mandalorian.

Din strides forward and crouches to one knee, taking the kid into his hands. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the blatant love in Din’s voice. Grogu reaches for the Mandalorian’s helmet, but Din does not remove it this time. He half-turns, and Grogu’s attention shifts. His childish hand raises at you, cooing. 

Nearly jogging to them, you allow three stubby fingers to grasp your thumb. Pressing a kiss to his wrinkly head, you murmur an affectionate greeting. Grogu begins to purr.

“Is he happy here? Is his training going well?” Din asks the Jedi. 

“Happy enough. But he is distracted. I believe Grogu has made his decision.” 

Your brow furrows, “What decision?” 

“Grogu has learned all he will from me. I know his feelings, sense his thoughts. They remain with his father. A life dedicated to the Jedi Order is not his path.” 

“You’re saying that you won’t train him anymore?” You clarify, shocked.

“Grogu has seen both of his choices and made his decision. That decision is to return to you.” 

Though you can’t see his face, your eyes turn up to the Mandalorian anyway. Your imagination serves you well enough. His eyes are surely glassy, and a soft, disbelieving smile is certainly spreading across his face. 

Luke bows slightly, and turns away, walking down the path with his hands folded behind his back. In the distance, a stone hut is being built by spidery droids. You watch him go for a moment in curiosity before returning your attention to the two in front of you. 

Din’s helmet tips down to look at the child. “You’re coming with us?” The hope in his voice confirms your picture of his expression. 

Still aggressively purring, Grogu burrows down into the crook of Din’s arm. 

The T-shaped slit tilts up to you, and you wish you had the ability to freeze the image. The Mandalorian contentedly holding his green child, looking at you with what you're sure is pure happiness.

"Let's go, then," you grin. 

_________________________

Deciding that a reunion could be better savored while resting on a peaceful planet, the Mandalorian lands the Razor Crest. Gentle hills of sand roll in every direction, and, once outside the ship, the sound of ebbing water can be heard.

"This is Illen. The entire surface is made of small islands. The waterline is on the other side of that dune," Din points his chin upward. 

"Is it late in the day's cycle?" You wonder, referring to the soft, golden light that illuminates the planet.

"The sun does not set here." 

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation, "It's beautiful." 

Din kneels, laughing under his breath at Grogu's immediate fascination with the sand. 

"Kid, I have something for you." 

Grogu's ears flop slightly when he looks all the way up at Din. He tilts his head in curiosity. 

The Mandalorian unwraps the little bundle he'd carried with him and pulls out a child-sized chainmail shift. 

"This is yours by right, Grogu. You are a Mandalorian foundling, and part of this clan." 

The child seems to understand the gift he's being given. His eyes look upon his father with adoration, and his hand touches the beskar chainmail with respect. 

***

Several hours later, Grogu begins to slow his excitement. His tiny mouth opens wide showing a range of even tinier teeth as he yawns. 

Grogu plops down in the sand, grabbing fistfuls and letting it trickle through his fingers. Miniature crustaceans with towering, swirly shells scuttle by, fascinating the kid as he slowly starts to drift to sleep. 

"He'll be busy for a while," the Mandalorian nods his head toward the ridgeline. 

Traipsing through the soft, sifting sand makes your journey to the top of the dune longer than usual, but when you join Din at the top, your breath catches. 

"Woah," you blink, ensuring your eyes aren't lying to you. 

Gentle waves lap at the silky white sand. The ocean is a vibrant blue, contrasting beautifully with the golden tint of the sky. Purple and yellow clouds dot the horizon. The burning sun casts yours and Din's shadows far behind you. 

Din gallantly holds your hand as the two of you trudge down the dune, stopping several paces from the water. 

"I have something for you, too."

Tearing yourself away from the natural world, you turn to look at your own. 

"What?" 

Din's thumb and forefinger dig into his pocket, and he fishes out a metal pin shaped like a Mudhorn. 

"You are also part of this clan, if you so wish. This does not bind you in any way, however," he assures. 

You smile warmly and raise your palm for him to drop the pin onto. It's even lighter than it looks. 

"Being bound to this clan is all I want," you shake your head and pin the object to your shirt. Your cheek twitches up into a lopsided smile at him. 

The Mandalorian simply stares at you for a breath, enjoying the moment.

Reluctantly, he starts to speak. “While I am reminded of it: I did have something I wanted to teach you,” he unhooks his real binders from behind him. "You are going to learn how to get out of these.” 

Your shoulders fall and your face is unmistakably wary. “Seriously? Can’t we have a single day without some type of exercise?”

Real binders represent a litany of bad memories. If you can avoid this, you will.

"No. And don't be afraid. You trust me." 

He says it as though it's a fact. And you realize that it is. The bond of trust between the two of you hasn't been up for debate in a very long time. He has your best interest at heart. Always.

The Mandalorian clasps the thick metal around his own wrists, and to your immense shock, a shadow in your mind whispers something excitingly foul. 

“When you’re…” Din’s words trail off when he notices something. The blank face of the beskar helmet tilts. “Your heart is racing.”

"It's not," you lie.

"I’ll get you out if you’re unable to break them. You need to learn how to do this." 

Din worries that your past might be causing you to fear. It was, but a more insidious idea has taken root.

"No, I know. I believe you."

Din's shoulders tense, his bound hands folded in front of him. "Then why is your heat signature rising?" 

The breeze from the sea is cool, and the sun is at a perfect place in the sky to allow for a comfortable amount of warmth. Trying to understand, the Mandalorian watches as your cheeks flush, and it finally strikes him that you're embarrassed.

"This -" he pauses, truth dawning on him. "You like this, don't you?" He raises his hands.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the shifting ground beneath your feet. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why." 

Din considers that for a moment. It wasn't hard to understand. A lifetime of servitude and bondage, you might enjoy being on the other side of it. 

The Mandalorian shifts his body, his knee cocking. “If you win today, I'll see what I can do." 

Your eyes widen, nerves sparking already at his voice. Then you frown. 

"But I never win," you retort. 

Din shrugs his shoulders. 

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, "Alright, well. Show me how." 

The Mandalorian twists one of his hands, working against one of the hinges. One edge of the hinge springs up. Then, Din raises his hands above his head and jerks them down and apart with all his strength, popping the hinge. One cuff remains, but his hands are no longer constrained together.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

"These are a low-grade set. You won't be able to break free of the high-end binders; unless you pick their lock," he explains. "But I want you to know how to do this." 

Din resets the hinge, and holds out his hand for you to take them. As your fingers close around the binders, however, the Mandalorian sweeps your leg out from underneath you. 

Instinct takes over, and, though you're laughing at the change in plan, you duck into a recovering move to the side, giving yourself space from him. 

He nods at you, and the fight is on. Binders still in your hand, you feint to his left. Din actually reacts, so you take advantage and charge his right. 

You land a blow to his side, then grab his arm and try to set him off-balance. From the modulator, you hear him breathily laugh at your pathetic effort. He crouches and whirls you off him, sending you down onto the sand. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you're laughing too hard to focus. Even without a weapon, his strength was such a formidable opponent that you'd never win. 

"You can do better.”

"I can't," you snort. "Din, you're as broad as an X-wing." 

He gestures like So what?

"Try again," he demands, folding his hands cockily. 

Huffing, you narrow your eyes, looking for some kind of misstep. But he's just standing there - unimpressed as a karking Republic officer. Eventually, you decide on trickery; that seemed to work before. 

Feinting again, Din expects you to go to the opposite side like you did last time, so he twists a little to that direction. But then you continue through on your "feinted" movement, launching at him. You come at him from below this time, grabbing and pushing at his waist, and as he bends, your leg swipes out his knee. 

He grunts, rotating and falling onto his back, and you go down with him, arms still around his waist. 

Din takes the opportunity, while your ankle is awkwardly underneath his knee, to wrestle on top of you. He's chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this. 

As Din supports himself above you, you knock your elbow into the crook of his arm, causing it to give out and his body to drop to one side. He grips your waist as you roll and force him onto his back once more. A click resounds between you.

"Stop doing that," he growls at your cheap shots on his joints.

As you straddle him, he hears a second click. 

The Mandalorian looks down now at his hands where they lie against your stomach. Binders lock his wrists in place. The black slit on his helmet considers you with a sigh. 

"Well done,” his modulator conveys his flat, raspy tone. “I concede." 

Your eyebrows draw together, mouth agape, and you place your hands on his breastplate for stability. 

"You can't concede a fight you lost." 

"I just showed you I can break out of these, did I not?" 

"That doesn't negate my win." 

Din huffs dramatically. The motion tenses his abs underneath you. Once again, you’re tempted by the way he looks right now, bound and pinned underneath you. Heat begins to pool where you sit astride him. 

Suddenly, the Mandalorian lurches upward, looping his bound arms over your head and around your waist. He shifts on the sand until he's sitting up with you in his lap, your legs still sprawled around his waist.

"Can you take this off for me?" His gravelly voice asks. "My hands seem to be tied up."

There comes a lurch in your stomach that has very little to do with your position around him.

"The helmet?" You whisper.

"Yes, the helmet." 

"Din, are you sure? Shouldn’t you -”

“I think it is fitting. You won and I’ve already made my decision. You make yours.” 

Reverently, you place your hands on either side of his beskar face. Your fingers curl around the concave shapes that resemble cheek bones. A third Death Star could splash down into the ocean and you'd only know when the tsunami engulfed you. The weight of the moment is almost too much to bear. 

The sharp edge of the helmet crests the top of his head and short, wavy, brown locks fall away from the interior. You set the helmet down beside him, and, with the gravitational pull he has on you, you can’t stop yourself from touching his face.

His face.

Huge, sensitive brown eyes look up at you, reading your reaction. His full lips pout in a way that forces you to stutter over them several times in your exploration. You’re surprised at how easy he is to read, and for a moment you believe it’s because of how well you know him, and that is much of it. But then you understand. A life behind a mask meant that he never learned to hide his expressions. 

You press a gentle kiss to his angular nose; to the patch of missing hair on his jaw, oddly shaped like a heart; and finally to those unfair lips. Your hands cradle his jaw as you press your kisses, and he sighs underneath your touch. 

The Mandalorian is beautiful underneath beskar and bone. 

This is the first time Din has seen you without his helmet, and the weight of his gaze as it travels across your face, down your throat, and back up to your lips sets your already-taut nerves ablaze. The knot in your stomach has yet to loosen; instead, Din only twists it tighter. 

Taking a liberty, you peck him on the lips shyly, drawing back almost immediately. The corner of his mouth turns upward ever so slightly and his hooded eyes pin you with a look full of deep admiration.

When you pull back, your eyes open to the true intimacy of the moment. The Mandalorian could not show you any more blatantly that he cares, that he’s yours. Bound and unhelmed under you, Din is still in control. At any moment he could break his bonds, but he chooses not to. You take a shaky breath, then surge into him again. This time, however, your lips slot between his with heated fervor. 

He groans into your mouth, crushing you to him. Din reclines a few degrees onto the sand dune behind, allowing you a better position on him. Your sounds become more desperate, and Din breaks the kiss.

“Take this off,” he indicates his chestplate. 

His eyes are hooded and completely on board with this new dynamic, so you comply. You bite your lip, trying not to ogle, as you carefully divest the Mandalorian of his armor. The illusion of control was yours, but he always held the power. Him choosing not to use it makes your blood boil. 

When his armor is lovingly placed to the side, abandoned in the daylight, you run your hands up his chest over his flight suit. Without waiting for instruction, you unfasten it. Quietly he watches you, his arms still around your hips, and his breathing grows shallow. 

You pull open his flight suit and duck to press open mouth kisses along his chest. Sparse, dark hairs curl in the center, tickling your cheeks and lips as you move.

Din groans through his nose, his eyes closing above you. At the apex of your thighs, his length twitches and thickens. You kiss along his collarbone, encouraged by his faint sounds, then suck a biting kiss on his tense neck. 

A wrecked groan rips from his mouth, and his hands press into your back, egging you on. Your hips buck of their own free will as his arousal becomes hot and hard between you. His eyes roll closed when you drag along him just right, and the sight of his pleased face soaks your underwear. 

“You going to run the whole show?” He murmurs. “Or would you like me to -”

Before he’s finished speaking, you retrieve the thin key for his binders, unlocking them. Pulling off his gloves and tossing the binders into the sand, he immediately skates his hands underneath your shirt, tugging it off you. When Din tosses it away, his eyes shamelessly follow his hands as they explore.

He suddenly sits forward, his arms cradling your back, and he sweeps you underneath him. His knee spreads your legs, so it’s really his own fault when your drenched, needy core rides his thigh. Looking directly into the Mandalorian’s soft eyes, you whimper; his eyes darken further, and he roughly shuffles your pants down. 

Your hands fumble with the rest of his flight suit, but he shrugs out of the sleeves, tying them around his waist. He opens the codpiece area and your eyes widen. It’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him in the daylight, but those times had always been from behind. Din’s hands are already large, and yet his cock makes them look smaller. The memory of it inside you is enough to make you arch into him.

Your arms reach for his neck, and he bows over you, tenderly kissing between your breasts. He makes his way to your throat before he returns the favor, sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck. Din’s heavy erection settles against your thigh, and it throbs when you moan.

“Stop teasing,” you beg breathlessly. 

“I’m not teasing. I am enjoying this,” Din says honestly. 

“I really need you,” you take his face in your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

The Mandalorian takes the hint. He groans; his hands grip your waist, pinning you into the sand. One hand abandons its post to drag his length through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Brown eyes bore into yours as he lines up and, with a rough sigh, nestles the head of his cock inside you. The Mandalorian breaks eye contact to look down and grab the underside of your knee. He throws your leg up over his waist, maintaining his hold, and inch-by-inch, buries himself in your tight heat. 

Watching him enter you has you teetering on the edge of an early orgasm. His eyebrows draw together and his full lips part slightly. His chin tips upward with pride when you cry yes, and his heavily-lidded eyes blaze with lust. 

Adjusting to his size is simple when he’s driven you to the point of an orgasm just from insertion. You wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you without agenda. You relax into him, letting him lead. He said he was enjoying this, and the more you touch him, the more you agree. 

Curling your hands in his dark brown waves, you drift with the roll of his tongue and his lips. His slow sensuality seems to turn him on even more. You whine each time the Mandalorian throbs inside your body, and each time it sets your heart racing. 

Eventually, when your body shakes with anticipation and sheer want, he has mercy on you. His hand leaves your knee, sliding down your thigh and between your two bodies. His thumb rubs smooth circles over your sensitive bud and you tighten around him immediately. 

Whining, muscles stiffening, you lean away from his lips just to breathe, when his low, crisp voice asks earnestly, “Will you come on me like this?” 

It’s the missing piece. It whips through you like a wildfire, and you bear down on his cock. He groans in his throat, enraptured, as you shake beneath him. Din takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim your lips. 

Din drags his length out along your walls, loving your overstimulated expressions. Then, he reseats himself in a single motion, sending your body forward in the sand. You cry out, begging him for more.

The Mandalorian thrusts into you, replacing his hand around your knee and using it as leverage to please you deeper. His muscular arm settles near your face for balance. Burying you in the sand, his warm body pressing into you from above and inside, the feeling of bliss sinks into your very marrow. 

Grunting, his lips lose their steady rhythm on your mouth, insteading hanging above you. Sweat shines on his forehead, his brown hair curls in the same place, and he looks at you with such admiration that you can’t stop yourself from cupping his face between your hands, kissing and worshiping every part of him you can reach. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Din loops an arm around your back, pulling your chest flush with his while he works himself into you, grunting as his aching member begins to empty itself. The coase hairs between you tangle, acting as friction. The thrusting of his body nudges your clit, and the powerful shuddering of his cock in your overstimulated channel forces you right over the cliff. 

Shaking in his arms, he rides it out with you, breathing rapidly into one another. Sand sticks to the both of you where you’ve perspired. Din leans his forehead against yours, whispering his affection. He kisses your nose, then carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lie there for a moment, basking in it all. 

“I’m too dirty to put my clothes back on,” you laugh. 

“I am, too.” Din agrees. 

He stands, having tucked himself back in his black flight suit. His upper torso is still uncovered, though, and you stare. 

The Mandalorian holds out his hand and you take it without hesitation. He helps you stand, then begins to undress himself further, not wanting his knee rockets and boots to get waterlogged.

 “You’re… going to bathe with me?” Your lips curve into a coy smile.

“Is that not obvious?” He responds drily, chucking a boot onto the beach. 

“I’m not going to keep my hands to myself,” you warn in a whisper.

“Neither will I,” the Mandalorian promises. 

_________________________________

Taglist:

@morks-watermelon @leithatnight @sexygaypalpatine @leeeesahhh @taro-666 @bitter-sweet-slut @cockscombkingdom

[volturi-imagines]

Accidentally in Love Alec Volturi

How we have not gotten caught yet was a mystery to me but I was grateful for it. I knew my sister, Bella, would never approve of it and she would get the Cullens to try and force me to stop seeing him. At first, it was just me acting out and him willing to go along and I don’t know when it changed, but it did. Lingering touches, soft kisses, it was no longer just sex, it was now sex with feelings. Even then I didn’t take it seriously, I didn’t know the gravity of the situation, of what having a vampire fall in love with you meant.

Not until some guy from school brought me flowers, it was a sweet gesture but not one I reciprocated but that wasn’t enough. The poor boy never made it home and was declared missing, the body was never found.

I hadn’t connected the dots, not even when the Cullens had pulled away or when Edward started to shield Bella from me like I was a danger to her.

I had been left home alone, Bella was with the Cullens fighting some newborn vampire army and Charlie was off on a fishing trip. I had spent most of the day laying on the couch watching reruns of some shitty show when I heard movement coming from upstairs. I debated not going to look but my curiosity won and I made my way up the stairs and to my bedroom door. Pushing the door open I was met with 4 figures dressed in black moving around my room, throwing my clothes and books into suitcases. Three of the four people ignored me as the fourth gently took my hand and pulled me from the room.

“Mi amor. I missed you.”

“W-what’s going on, Alec?”

“Sweetcheeks. I’ve come to bring you home. I’m tired of the sneaking around, of not having you at my side. Aro has granted you a special privilege, he will allow me to turn you and allow you to remain in Volterra with me during your newborn years.”

My mouth was dry, this was serious.

“I-I don’t understand. Why me? I thought we were just fooling around.”

Alec seemed hurt by my comment.

“In the beginning maybe, but now, sweetcheeks. You are my mate, I ache for you when we are apart and when we are near, my love, you make me feel things I have never felt before, things I never thought I could feel.”

I tried to pull away, to try and gather my scattered thoughts but Alec wasn’t having it as he took me in his arms.

“My love, my life. Please, don’t run from me now. I’ve staked not only my reputation on you but that of my sisters as well. I love you, and I will never stop loving you.”

My mind was having trouble keeping up with what he was saying, and a small part of me was even doubting him, but it was all squashed under the thoughts of all the times we shared kisses and all the times he was gentle and affectionate with me, all the sweet nothings he whispered in my ear as he took me in bed. I knew I was willing to risk it, I was willing to risk it all for the chance at a forever with him.

“I will go with you. I want to go with you.”

Alec seemed to gain some of his confidence back as he smiled at me before kissing me with such passion, putting all his love into it.

[websterss]

QUIRKS, SMIRKS, AND BAD WORDS — TOM HOLLAND

SUMMARY: You and Tom are a celebrity couple with two beautiful twins.

WARNING(S): Fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,637

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

A/N: Reposting old fics!!! Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

The loud abrupt cheers of the audience could be heard from where you and Tom were waiting to be called out backstage. This being the first time in a couple months that you’ve been with Tom in an interview, let alone on a talk show. Especially on the Graham Norton Show. You’d been at home with your kids while Tom was working on his latest movie. After being away from the acting industry since you have taken time off to take care of the twins, it has taken a bit of a toll on you. However, since you’ve been back at work, and working on your new movie. You and Tom were called in to be on the Graham Norton Show.

This being Tom’s third time being on the show while making it your first interview since you’ve come back.

You fiddled with the skirt of your dress, nervously running your hands down the front of it. Call it a nervous habit, Tom could see just how nervous you really were. He smiled gently and took a step forward taking your hands in his.

“You look beautiful, love. Nothing to be worried about.” He leaned forward and pecked your cheek sweetly. You blushed slightly. Even after being married for so long he could still make you blush like a schoolgirl.

“It just feels weird being back. Away from the kids…I didn’t think it’d be such a big difference, but it is.” You looked up at your husband showing him how you were feeling.

“It’s been a big change for all of us, but you know what. We’re getting through it together, that’s the important part.” Tom quickly pecked your lips getting a taste of your lip balm you applied earlier. He licked his lips while he smirked at you knowingly. “Is that cherry?” He smiled. 

“Mhmm.” You were trying hard to contain your smile.

“Can I have another taste of that?” Tom leaned in to kiss you. You giggled as you melted against his lips.

“I love you.” You muttered into the kiss. Laughing as he kept pecking you nonstop. 

-

“Oh! Oh!” Graham ran out onto the stage. The audience cheered and applauded the man as he came out. “Oh, you are kind. You are kind. Thank you, thank you. The interruption of the crowd made the studio sound so loud. You and Tom could hear just how excited they were. “Thank you, thank you.” Graham motioned his hands out to the audience. He clasped his hands together. “We got a great show for you tonight. Two very lovely guest stars!” The crowd cheered again. “Hopefully I can make it, as the Americans say, lit. Fingers crossed.” He then crossed his fingers on both hands. Graham smiled softly. “Speaking of lit, the fourth of July is coming soon. So if you are planning on having a fireworks demonstration, please remember, never return to a lit one as it can backfire on you like a…oh you know like a snap election.” A picture of Theresa May popped on the big wall next to him. Her face looked as if someone took a picture of her caught off guard. The audience responded with chuckles and giggles. “Ooh, that was fun!” Graham with his hands clasped jumped a little. He laughed then continued. “I wonder if Theresa May has gotten everything she’s wanted this year, hindsight.” He kept his hands clasped and looked seriously into the camera causing the audience to laugh again. “Any who.” Graham rocked side to side like a small child. “Let’s bring out our guest stars!” Graham flailed his arms around goofily. The crowd cheered and applauded as he began saying your names. “From the west end, this homegrown star is back again as the one and only Spider-Man. He’s here to debut his new movie Far From Home, please give it up for Tom Holland!” Graham paused for a moment then continued. “You all may know her for her incredible performance as AJ Stark, playing alongside Robert Downey Jr, you love her, you adore her, please give a warm welcome for Y/n Y/L/N.”

Tom was the first to step out making his way up to the small sofas. He had a slight bounce in his step as he faced the crowd waving and smiling. Graham and him greeted each other shortly. Graham gestured for Tom to take a seat, but he remained standing for a brief moment just until you reached them. He always waited for you. You waved and smiled at the crowd as you reached Graham. You greeted Graham with a kiss to each cheek and a quick hug. You turned towards Tom with his extended hand out for you. You sat down first then Tom took his place next to you on your left.

You two could not contain your smiles as the crowd was taking a minute to settle down. “Wow.” You were amazed at the fact that the cheers of the crowd took a minute to quiet down. 

“Hey everyone!” Tom chuckled a bit as the crowd was responding with such positive energy. Graham tried talking over the crowd but they were still cheering and applauding. He made a motion to the audience with his thumb. 

“No longer the new kid anymore. You’re famous, my goodness!” He teased him. Tom couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

The crowd cheered for a few more seconds. It quickly died down and then Graham began the interview.

“My god. Would you get a load of that?” He chucked as you and Tom shifted in your seats a bit to get comfortable.

“It’s crazy.” You giggled softly.

“This is actually your first time on the show, right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“How are you enjoying yourself?” Graham placed his chin on his hand and smiled.

“It’s amazing. I love your show. I watch it all the time.” You smiled at him. “It’s insane. I feel like I know you.” Your eyes crinkled as you laughed at your own awkward words.

Graham leaned back happily. “Don’t let this one go, Tom.” He teased as Tom reached out for your hand and gave the top of your hand a soothing rub with the pad of his thumb.

“This isn’t your first talk show though?” Graham glanced back at his card then continued. “You actually started out quite young, like Tom did.”

“No, it’s not, but yeah I did start at a young age. Around the age of six, maybe seven, I believe.” You squint your eyes trying to remember. “I think I started out younger than Tom did.” You glanced at Tom nodding to get the confirmation. He nodded. 

“Did you star in musicals, or was it more in the acting industry?”

“It was a mixture of both.” You nodded. “I remember doing a bunch of commercials at the time. Then I was auditioning for popular kids shows.” You laughed slightly.

“So you went from commercials to kids shows, to being Tony Stark’s daughter.” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You laughed.

“Is that how you two initially met, through Marvel?”

“I actually hadn’t met Y/n till we started shooting Spider-Man Homecoming.” Tom started talking this time. He smiled all of a sudden. “I actually remember when someone had told me that she was in Captain America Civil War.” Tom laughed at the memory.

“Was it Robert?” You laughed along with him. The audience joined you.

“Yeah it was, I had the biggest crush on you.” He licked his lips slightly and he turned to look at. “We weren’t in the same scenes, but we were in the same movie.” Tom shook his head in disbelief.

“So when did you meet her?” Graham motioned between the two of you.

“It was during our chemistry reading.” Tom smiled.

“We were in the room together during our introduction scene, where Peter and AJ finally meet for the first time.” You chuckled as you continued. “He forgot his lines.” You giggled as the audience laughed. “And Tom being Tom, he started improvising.”

“I did. I could not remember what to say next.” Tom licked his lips again.

“Do you take one look at the script and say…nope.” Graham pretended to throw his cards behind his back.

“I-I prepared.” Tom pointed teasing at Graham.

“Yes, you certainly did.” Graham nodded. The audience laughed at his words.

“Was it love at first sight?” Graham teased.

“It was actually love at first kiss,” Tom admitted. A few whistles and hollers came from the audience. Tom smirked slightly as he leaned back a bit. You rolled your eyes playfully. You shrugged at the crowd.

“N-No it wasn’t.” You mouthed and dismissed the crowd with your hand. You let out a chuckle.

“How was it then?” Graham asked.

“Okay so…” You paused for a minute before letting out a breathy laugh. “Tom was already a mess.” Tom laughed. “And Kevin Feige needed a shot of Tom caught off guard. So he…he pulled me off to the side and said, Y/n I need you to kiss him before you walk out of the shot.”

“That’s what he said!” Tom leaned back letting out a laugh that shook his body. “That’s awesome.” He clasped his hands together.

“Was it a good kiss?” Graham asked innocently, but the audience roared in loud cheers and laughter. He arched his eyebrows at Tom.

Tom licked his lips. “She kissed me alright.”

“Y/n?”

“It was a surprise…peck on the cheek. Although I may have accidentally kissed him on the lips the first time.” You brought your thumb in between your teeth and bit down gently trying to look innocent.

“How do you accidentally kiss someone?”

“I don’t know, Graham.” You laughed.

“Is that what began everything for the two of you?”

“Essentially yes.” Tom nodded as he held your hand. “It took a while, but I finally got her.” Tom looked down bashfully then up at you. The crowd was loving every bit of it.

“I was pulled in by his Spider-Man lasso.” You joked shrugging. The audience caught on quickly and cheered. Tom cheekily started doing the lasso dance, adding in his own combination. He made a web sign with his fingers, pretending to pull you in by his web. You played along. You shimmied your shoulders as you scooted closer to him. The audience and Graham laughed. Tom pressed a kiss to the side of your head wrapping his arm around you.

“It ended well.” Graham motioned to you two. “A wedding soon followed.” 

“Yes.” Tom nodded. “It’s been four years now.” The crowd cheered you on. “I can see it’s been wonderful, you now have two kids?” 

“The twins, yeah.” You laughed and nodded along with him.

“That’s right, you have two little ones. Boy and a girl right?” Graham perked up at the mention of your kids.

“May and Anthony.” You smiled happily.

“How are they? Not giving you too much trouble I hope.”

Tom leaned back letting out an exaggerated breath of air. “They’re a handful.” Tom wiped away at his forehead. You patted his thigh playfully. A laugh soon followed Tom and then the audience. “No, I’m joking.” He chuckled. “They’re amazing, I love them so much. If anything the twins have changed me in ways I can’t explain, they’ve made me better, happier. I’ve learned so much from being a father to them. They’re my everything.” Tom admitted causing you to smile. The audience let out a few awes.

“Were you ever scared of being parents?”

“Oh definitely.” You nodded. “I think any new parents would be scared at one point. It’s a big change from having taken care of yourself.” You motioned between you and Tom. “To then take care of a baby. I’m not going to lie, it was hard at first. It was a new big change and a big step into our new married life together. But we pulled through together for our kids. I honestly wouldn’t change a thing.” Tom smiled at you lovingly. “Have your kids picked up any traits or quirks of yours?”

“Yes, they have, actually.” Tom laughed. “So Anthony likes to basically do everything that I do. Which isn’t always a good thing.” He chuckled nervously. “So I tend to curse here and there…” 

“A lot.” You laughed. “Don’t lie.” You chuckled

“And usually when I’m talking to Y/n or watching Tv it tends to slip out every once and awhile,” Tom said with his hands. “I’m getting better at not cursing in front of my children, trust me.” He chuckled. “But let’s just say I have not had the best outcomes.” Tom put his head down as the audience roared.

“Did you get him in trouble?” Graham asked.

“My mom voice is not just for my kids.” You admitted laughing as the audience roared with laughter again. “I have three kids sometimes.” You joked playfully. 

“Does your daughter do anything like that?”

“Say bad words? I hope not.” You giggled. “No May, she’s an angel. She’s my good child. Although she definitely has Tom’s sass.” You nodded.

“Taught her everything she knows,” Tom said. He let out a hearty laugh as he continued.

“Doesn’t she also do your mom look?” He turned to you laughing.

“Oh, what's the mom look?”

“So sometimes when they get a bit fussy or they don’t want to listen. I'll give them this look.” You arched your brow to demonstrate. “Then I put my hands on my hips and wait a few seconds.” You put your hands at your hips and looked into the camera like the Office.

“I wouldn’t want to mess with her folks.” Graham put his hand vertical against the side of his lips and spoke to the audience as if he were telling them a secret. The audience chuckled. “Who does she do that too?” Graham smiled as he asked you. 

“Tom.” You broke out in a laugh.

Tom nodded. He shrugged, turning his hands over to face up. “I’m bad.”

“We can tell.” Graham teased. “Another thing I’ve noticed is how your kids can go back between an American accent to a British accent. Was that something you wanted them to be able to do?” Graham trailed off.

“Okay, so before the kids were born. My mum had a chat with us about whether or not the kids were going to have an accent or not.” Tom gritted his teeth innocently. “I-It was very well thought out since Y/n is from the states, but she moved with me to London.” Tom smiled softly. “So the kids are used to hearing the difference between the two of us. But I do have to say there have been some moments where my mum wasn’t too pleased with the way they said water.” Tom chuckled.

“Understandable.” Graham titled his head.

“Yeah, but they pick up both really well.”

“Would you ever consider putting them in acting?”

“Maybe when they’re older. Honestly, it depends on our kids. We want them to have the full childhood experience growing up and just being a kid. We would never push them.” You answered.

“Couldn’t have said it any better.” Graham smiled. He then turned to the audience. “Well everyone that is it for tonight. Please say thank you to our guest. Tom Holland!” Tom smiled and waved at the audience. “Y/n Y/L/N!” You smiled brightly and clapped, then waved at the audience too. “Will be back next week with a very special show devoted to two of our greatest actors. Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep, can’t wait!” Graham spoke to the camera. “Till then have a very happy night. Goodnight everyone!” Graham stood up as did the two of you and led you both backstage to head off to your dressing rooms.

[popawritter12]

Hello.Can I apply if they are still open?Can I have a Raiden x reader please? I would like to see comfort or anxiety (?)She is an excellent informant, constantly living under the guise of other people. Her motives and behavior are constantly changing. Everyone finds her somewhat threatening because they can't figure out what's on her mind. Raiden knows her a little better and at one moment finds her completely broken, because living someone else's life, knowing everything about everyone, is difficult and destructive for the psyche.Sorry, I do not speak english well. I hope my request will be clear...Thanks in advance <3

Of course! I really needed an excuse to do a oneshot with this man HAHAHA (Sorry if it took too long :c)

Yandere! Raiden x Female reader

Yandere character: Raiden/Jack.

From the videogame/serie/book/movie/manga or anime: Metal Gear saga.

Case: Stalking, a little mention of illegal investigation, comfort and anxiety for the reader <3.

Warnings: Nao nao.

Part: 1 of 1

Finished: Yes.

(You never knew Raiden much, in fact, you only exchanged words with him a handful of times. It was the same with the rest of the team; you just do the most important thing, and then the rest doesn't matter.)

You had a somewhat complex job, the change in personality and appearance was almost as constant as drinking water. And lately, those “jobs” had appeared with more regularity. They were more than your mind could handle; especially with how seriously you took the job you had been assigned.

Especially with how difficult it was to deal with the people you encountered. As an informant, you had a hard time coping with your mental health due to overwork.

Although, you hated being so untalkative; There were very few people you genuinely talked to with confidence, and especially at work. And while you always sought to maintain a constant line of respect with everyone you met, you never felt a level of connection of genuine friendship with anyone.

Without many options, you tried not to overthink. Between all your mistakes in doing various jobs during the most recent week, along with recent arguments with your family led you to be tired, but not physically.

It had been a particularly complex day for you. In fact, this whole week was being especially difficult for you.

—How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine?

—You know it's not that, I just think…

—This is the fourth time this week you've called me! —You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress how irritated you were—. You almost ruined my job today, the same thing happened yesterday and the day before yesterday, don't you understand how important this is to me?!

The woman on the other end of the phone sighed somewhat heavily.

—I feel like this job is slowly consuming you, I'm afraid you might be having a hard time because of this.

—But..! —Before you could deliberately let out any insults, you threw your back slightly back, hitting the fluffy pillow of the backrest, before remaining silent.

The chair moved smoothly due to your abrupt tilt. The smell of dust invades your senses as you tried to stay calm. The other person you were talking to was a close aunt of yours, she was like your second mother, and she called you often, so often that even your mother more than once threatened to take her cell phone away from her if she didn't let you in peace.

—Listen, dear —She began, a noise from the television playing on her side of the call —.I'm sorry to be so annoying, but I think it's been many months since we saw each other in person, and I'm worried that there's something wrong with you or someone trying to revent you from talking to me and your mother.

Even if you wanted to respond, you just listened to her.

—If you don't want to talk, that's fine, just call us from time to time, okay? —She continued, but she was called by a couple of knocks on her door—well, sweetheart, I have to go, I love you.

She cuts off your call before you could answer, leaving you silent, alone.

You removed your cell phone from your ear, placing the object on the table now. Your gaze remained fixed on the screen, thoughtful.

Doubt arose in your head; How long had it been?

Because you were so busy, the days flew by, as if what had happened 5 months ago had happened yesterday. Checking your calendar, you realized that it had indeed been a long time since you last saw your mother and aunt.

You looked at the images and information that you had hanging on the furniture in front of you, noticing that the amount of words and images that were located there was… excessive.

In fact, it had been a long time since you last hung out with someone you really trusted. Part of you thinks it's because you're so used to no one waiting for you. But, now you feel a gradual change about your past decisions.

Mom was waiting for you at home, longing for you to be safe, maybe thinking that someone is hurting you, or taking you away from her, or killing you.

You panted heavily, leaning down to touch the pad of your phone with the tip of your finger.

Mom is worried, and your aunt too.

Tell me, why the hell do you care more about a fucking job? Unlike the other people there, at least you had a family. Why were you working so many extra hours to investigate, to reinforce your performance? Was all this really about the money? Or was it because you like to rack your brains over topics that don't even concern you?

Your heart rate increases slightly, along with a slight feeling of weight on your chest. That same feeling that had haunted you so much that day.

They are worried about you, why do you ignore them? And your friends? Do they no longer exist for you?

Why the fuck are you still in that job after so many years and all the shit you had to see?

Physical torture, manipulation of all people with important information, death…, and many more things that you preferred not to remember.

So many people with whom you interacted and pretended that they were reliable friends, who for endless hours you dedicated yourself to listening to their problems or their deepest thoughts, so that in the end they end up dead.

And partly, his death was your fault. Tell me, how far are you willing to go? How far are you going to justify your complicity in the death of so many people?

Are a few dollars equivalent to the death of these people?

Your heartbeat increases, while small drops begin to fall from your cheeks. But you didn't sob at any point.

You could feel your hands shaking. You ran your palms over your face, gently covering your entire face. And you just sobbed softly, trying to vent all your thoughts clinging to your chest and stuck deep in your mind.

In short, there was no one but you in that small place you called “your research office.”

Then, a hand on your shoulder catches your attention.

—(Name)?

His voice sounded soft, unlike how it normally sounded. Quickly, your hands left your face, while your head along with your shoulders moved slightly to where you heard the voice.

—S-shit… —You gasped, before grabbing a used napkin to quickly wipe your cheeks and eyes, —…, I didn't know you were around.

Because of how quickly you went through the paper cloth, and because of the time that had passed since the last time you used it, your skin ended up scratched and somewhat bruised.

After that, you threw the paper into the trash can—although the trash can was overflowing with papers—and you pretended to arrange some papers of your desk.

—Why are you here..? —You hesitated, but before you expected it, he took the papers.

—Are you ok?

The question didn't take you so much by surprise, but it did take your sensitive heart, which longed for that human contact, even if it was only through words.

—Yes, why would I be…?

He grabs the back of the swivel chair, before moving it so you're facing him.

—You do not look well.

It was too obvious that you couldn't pretend to be bad right now, but you also didn't want to look this vulnerable to him.

—I just had a… family problem —You answered simply.

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he let go of the back of the chair, at least giving you some space.

—You've been very busy this week, are you sure you're okay? —He insisted, his gaze traveling a little over your face.

Small parts of your face, like your nose or the dark circles on your eyes, were slightly scratched. And your eyes were still with a tearful sheen along with a poorly hidden trace of the tears that had escaped from you.

Among all your classmates, you thought anyone could find you in a vulnerable situation like this, except him.

But in the end, you needed someone by your side so you could let go of all the thoughts you had inside of you.

—Actually… I feel like… it's been a long time.

He was confused, but didn't mention anything.

—My aunt called me, and she told me that she was worried about me… —You started your explanation —…, but she had already called me like twice or more during the week, so I… was a little angry.

Your voice cracked softly as you progressed in what you were telling him, while your heart rate increased again.

—I yelled at her and told her to stop interfering in my work, I thought that if I told her it was okay, then she wouldn't be worried —You continued, your hands shaking again —, but she just told me that… it had been a long time since the last time we saw each other in person.

Your hand went to cover half of your face, while the other stayed on the table, trying not to move it too much.

—Her voice sounded so soft that I remembered that… —The hand on your face clung to your skin, as if you were holding back your tears —…, it's been like 6 months since the last time I saw them.

He knew that you were bad, that you had a bad week, even how your aunt was bothering you with her calls, but still, he listened to you.

—And well; One thing led to another and I thought that… I was selfish, and that I can't treat a family member of mine like that, you know? —You looked at Raiden, but you just sighed, a little broken due to crying —, although it sounds silly… because both you and the other people here can't even go back to their homes or have a normal life and they're here… But me? I am crying because of this nonsense of mine.

The tears continued to come, as you slowly lost control of your words.

—Sometimes I just want to quit, all these thoughts about my job are too much some days, you know? —You gasp again with some difficulty—. Sometimes I think about everything I saw; You and other people have reached a point of almost no return, and I've seen so many things while pretending to be other people that I thought… Why am I still here? Why can't I stop all this and go back to my mother? Why can't I… go home?

you got up roughly from your seat, the chair going violently backwards, colliding with a giant blackboard.

—I think I'm just… talking stupid things now, I'm sorry, Raiden, —You apologized, exchanging glances with him again —. Sorry if I wasted your time…

One of his hands subtly went to your cheek, passing over one of your tears.

—It's not stupid —He whispers, the pad of his thumb making gentle movements over your skin, —, after all, I've been seeing you a little down for two days. And I don't think thinking about renounce is exactly something light.

Even if his understandable words took you by surprise, you felt the center of your chest warm up, slowly easing the weight.

—I'm sorry… I didn't think I worried you —You whisper, a slight smile on your face.

—Don't worry about it, —He whispered, almost as if he wanted to make sure you were calm.

You kept looking at him, almost as if you were lost in his eyes.

—You could ask for a day off after all this —He mentions, almost casually—, you don't have to make hasty decisions because of those things.

You came to your senses, before continuing to talk to him.

You never thought that someone like him could be so understanding of topics that are so… ordinary. But you were really grateful to find someone who can listen to you without judging you in such a way. He actually spoke to you like one friend to another, as if he knew exactly what to say so you could trust him and vent your thoughts to him.

After a while, you finally felt like that mental fatigue had abandoned you like a South American father abandoned his newborn child.

—Thank you, Raiden —You tell him, at the same time that you felt the edge of your lips curve into a smile—. I really needed to talk to someone.

It was the first time you saw him smile, which made you feel calmer.

—Can I give you a hug? —You ask him kindly, it was common that you didn't know how to interact normally with someone like him.

He only responded by walking closer to you, before gently wrapping his arms around you. He didn't use any force, in fact you just felt his arms collide with your body. He was so gentle that you just rested your head against his chest, both of your hands going to the top of his back.

Even with certain parts of him being cyborg, you felt warm in his embrace. There were no longer traces of sadness in your heart, only a feeling of security running through your soul.

When you both separated, you couldn't help but continue smiling at him. Although unfortunately, due to the hours they were in, he had to leave your office again.

And when you both said goodbye, you gave him another hug, a quicker one since you wanted to go to sleep early. And the moment he closed the door, you began to rearrange your desk a little.

And, while you were doing that, he, outside your office, just lit a cigarette, bringing it to his lips as he walked through the place towards the exit.

His mind was filled with new thoughts; Now that he had gained more of your trust, he could give himself the freedom to greet you or talk to you more normally, unlike before.

The only thing that calmed him down was that no one was coming near you. It wasn't because of him, in fact he was one of the few people who could approach you, without wanting to get away from you as quickly and subtly as possible, that made his job easier.

And, in fact, he is visibly…inclined to like (Name).

He smiled at the new idea he had, before taking another drag of the cigarette, knowing that he was getting closer to the person he loved so much.

Although he wished he could make sure your aunt doesn't bother you so much, it bothers him to hear her voice so many times during the week.

[namelessmoons-corner]

☆.｡.:° Moon's Daily Fic Rec #1 °:.｡.☆

More information here.

Fandom: ATEEZ Name: love's promised land Author: silkstaccato Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa Tags: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Calypso Au, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, calypso!seonghwa, pirate!hongjoong, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 15k

“What the fuck is this place?” the pirate yells, and panic is starting to bleed into the edges of his voice. “My prison,” Seonghwa says quietly. “And yours, now, too.” (Seonghwa is exiled by the gods to the phantom island of Ogygia, cursed to live alone for the rest of time. That is, until a strange pirate captain washes up on his shores.)

Personal thoughts :

I really love this fic! i think it might be my fourth or fifth time re-reading it, and i don't usually leave message under fics, but i'm trying to get better aha…

First of all, I love Greek mythology and I love ATEEZ, so i think it comes to no surprise that i would feel drawn by a fanfiction that regroup the two (and one of the most heartbreaking myths, in my personal opinion!)

Second of all, the descriptions are seriously amazing, and i wish that i could write like this.

/!\ SPOILERS /!\

I really liked Seonghwa's hesitation at the beginning, and we can really understand that he's become so tired of the curse that he does consider leaving a man to die. Hongjoong shooting Seonghwa is a good way, i think, to show on one part his immortality on the island and also to show that the pirate is determined to go through his threat and his promises.

The fact that the previous lovers of Seonghwa are ATEEZ members is so good and so sad at the same time, i don't even know how to describe what i felt when i finished the paragraph about San. I think if i think about it too much i'll cry.

“My prison,” Seonghwa says quietly. “And yours, now, too.” AHHHHHHHHHHHHH this hits you right in the feel it's so heart-wrenching and so good at the same time???

Is the ripening of the figs a metaphor for falling in love? YES IT IS AND I'M NOT MAD ABOUT IT And the storm announcing something coming into Seonghwa's life? At the beginning before Hongjoong arrives and then with the arrival of the raft?! Ugh so good

SH just "accepting" that the raft is not for him but just HJ? Ah so sadddd but so interesting! Both of them are desperate but because of their past experiences, they don't react the same way. While HJ is hopeful and then wants to find a solution, SH already knows it's hopeless and you can then feel the desperation through his laugh -> it's out of his control, hysterical even.

AND THE KISS! THE KISS. omg the description is chef's kiss, i could read it a hundred times more and still love it.

And the return of Hongjoong promise! it's foreshadowed with the shot when HJ comes to the island, and even if we know thanks to the tags that this is a happy ending, reading about the ship in the distance brings so much joy!!!

Anyway, all this to say that i really loved this story,

☽ Moon ☾

[mintytealfox]

So, tumblr acted weird when I tried to send this the first time. Idk if it will do it again, but what I was trying to send was like a bit of an addition to anon's AU idea.

Where like, Norton is like canon Norton, a miner from the 19th to 20th century so he has to get used to the modern world. Catching up on current events and events he missed (The Great Depression, Covid and its chaos, just in gen the 60s to 90s). Alice having to get Norton books form the library or let him borrow some because if he gets near the TV, it may just die.

Can see Norton not understanding modern slang and Alice having to teach him it, only for him to abuse it and her go insane from it. But as a treat, Norton teaches her 19th to 20th century slang.

I can also see Norton not used to the loudness of the modern era. The first time Norton hears loud car alarms go off, or the sudden thumping of the upstairs apartment or anything, he freaks out. Maybe screaming when the fire alarm goes off, etc. Its not because he is a scaredy cat, no its because he is overwhelmed by all the sudden new noises from the modern world he cant process it all, acting akin to a scared animal. Also just imaging how pure hell it would be on like Fourth of July or New Years and all the fireworks going off and Norton freaking out, causing everything to go in the fritz in the apartment because dude is having a PSTD episode. Alice probably ends up investing in noise canceling everything jkfd. And maybe introducing Norton to more calmer noises and or music, like white noise machines, lofi music, those channels that are like meant to help you sleep.

OH NEW STUFF! I got the first one but I see you added new stuff to respond to 👀 The teaching him slang would be effin hilarious! We have some seriously mind boggling things now that would just blow his mind HAHA "ok boomer, is a funny one" "?" "I could say that to you, actually. Oh wait...you're far older than a boomer hold on" -looks up his generation- "Okayyyy.....Missionary? that sounds ridiculous wipe all of this from your memory" -- Then him saying his things like "she's a church bell" -after having to hide while a woman was visiting Alice and trying to see what is going on in her apartment and Alice not letting her in but the lady wouldn't stop talking- "a church bell?" "a woman who talks too damn much" ("church bell - This term refers to a woman who talks so much she reminds you of the incessant clanging of church bells." LOOOOL)

The strange noises for sure! Imagine those jumbo loud airplanes flying overhead maaaan 👀that would be so alarming! AND the fire alarms going off while he is in the apartment alone with no explanation to what is going on would be so not okay. The calm noises would be such a blessing oh my gosh ;;

THE MAGNETIC PTSD RESPONSES OH MY GOOOSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

[stellarred]

I remember the TNG episode Cause and Effect, and how every time they repeated the loop, they became a bit more aware of what had happened until the problem was fixed.

I am unfortunately struggling a bit today with that post-ending scene between Q and Jack. Why would Q only appear to Jack? What is Jack's role in Q's cosmic scheme? Why couldn't Q have reappeared to Picard?

Given the fact that Patrick Stewart, Terry Matalas, and Co may not do a fourth season of PIC, and that Jack has taken over JLP's place in Trekdom, I am upset and depressed to think Q won't come back to Picard onscreen again.

But, knowing the Qcard force is strong, and that Q will see JLP "out there", there's no convincing me that Picard and Q will never end up together in eternity. Q loves him too much to just let Picard go and die. They end up together no matter what happens, or who Picard marries along the way.

I hate myself for investing emotionally in character ships, because I hate what writers do to them. That's why I don't watch lots of television shows, or movie franchises because of that one special pair of characters.

But, Qcard is very, very special to me. It provided me with a valuable source of relief and served as a good distraction late at night for almost three years after I had gone through a very difficult time in my life. My heart had been horribly betrayed so badly by people that I moved to the other side of the world to get away and heal. I got a good job abroad and stayed active, but there were times when my heartache caught up with me. I struggled with frequent ruminations of what had happened, and this was especially true late at night. Then I found out that Qcard was being taken seriously by STP writers. It made me happy and excited enough that it gave my mind something to think about and enjoy when I began to feel stressed again. I'd shipped Qcard for many years before then, but now, my favorite couple was back with a vengeance!

According to canon in my house, Q "died" in S2, but not before sending himself into the future to S3 to work with Jack, so that he could eventually serve as a conduit to his father's heart. Perhaps if Jack could ascend eventually to be with he and Picard, they could be a family!

I have always believed that Q had created a time loop in case Picard was unable to ascend. For example, in S2's Fly Me to the Moon, Q told Soong about "In 17 seconds, you are going to take a seat. Right on the tick!"

My take is that Qcard goes through TNG, STP S1 and S2, and after Q dies, Picard's relationship with Laris crumbles, and alone in his chateau, he eventually feels haunted by Q's absence (dreams, hearing whispers in the dark...). Picard goes on to rescue Q from wherever he's been. They have a committed relationship, get married, and live years of adventures in the universe together.

But, through a series of circumstances, Q is devastated to learn that the Continuum won't allow Picard to ascend. His capitaine's not ready. Meanwhile, Picard is aging and going to die.

Q uses a time loop to take them back to Encounter at Farpoint, and like Cause and Effect, Q has to re-teach Picard his lessons, and Q has to woo Picard all over again. Q has only a vague memory of his previous journey to marriage with Picard, while Picard doesn't remember at all.

This is also why a few Tumblrs suggested that Q and Picard are like "exes", which I don't like because that implies they didn't get along.

But, with each loop from TNG to STP S2, and the years after during their marriage, Picard learns more and proves himself worthy to join Q in eternity at last at some point.

I know people have excitement about this Legacy series that Terry Matalas is so gung-ho for. But, as far as Qcard goes, we don't know where that is going. Patrick Stewart said that they'd left "a few doors open" after S3, but I am tired of speculation.

Therefore, until a Tumblr mutual tries to excite me with real Qcard upcoming news-- because I'm not scouring any more ST news sources to get my hopes up anymore, my multiseries time loop is my canon.

I was grateful that Terry Matalas didn't ignore Q altogether, but I refuse to pay attention to any new Q character arcs. I mean, knowing our luck, Q will then be romantically involved with Deanna Troi!

So, I'm done.

My onscreen Qcard story ends at S2's Farewell, but my personal story with Q has, I believe, a FAR richer continuation.

I will say though, that Q looks damn sexy in that red cape.