#he like. bent a dude backwards and i need that done to me

[thatinsanefagfromartschool]

i decided ti watch the friday 13th movies cause BIG MAN, most r pretty lame objectively but slay lol (literally)

[witch-hazels-musings]

If your doing reqs...

Could I get a Zhongli x reader where the reader constantly overworks themselves and Zhongli finally has enough and gets them into bed? Hopefully that makes sense lol. If it's already been done with him then maybe Kaeya or Diluc? Many thanks

go to sleep

Warning -> fluffy, reader is forced to the bedroom and expected to sleep … is this a warning? Dude, idk.

Includes: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya

character  X GN Reader  |  Anthology

Zhongli 

He holds people who work hard and are dedicated to a very high standard - follow-through and conviction mean a lot to him 

If the person he is speaking with holds true to their values, not wavering in them, he will raise their place on his ladder of respect and trustworthiness 

So it wasn’t unlike him to encourage you and let you work when you said you wanted to get something done, even if it took a lot of your time 

“Sorry I've been so busy lately,” you told him late one night after returning home. He watched as you shrugged off your jacket and placed it back into the large standing dresser. 

“I do not mind; I’m encouraged to see you working so hard.” he’d reply, making his way over to you and wrapping you in a warm embrace

Even though he appreciated how hard you worked, he also knew you could only go on for so long until you needed a break. During those times he’d do his best to push you toward recuperation 

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” he asked as you were bent over your work. 

“I’m a bit busy right now, how about later?” you respond to him without looking up, your fingers writing down something which had captured all your attention.

He’d respect your request, as a gentleman should, and instead bring you some tea which he’d put as much love and care into as he could. “Do drink this before it gets cold.” 

He’d be okay with a few days of you working at this ridiculous pace, maybe a week or two, but the longer time dragged on the more impatient he would become 

He’d hit his breaking point when he woke from bed late at night without you, yet again 

He wrapped one of the silken robes around his body and slipped from the darkness of the bedroom making his way toward the study which still held light. Pushing the door open he’d see you sitting at the desk, your hair obscuring your face and your hand covering whatever document you were reviewing. 

“Y/N.” he’d say, his tone direct. 

“Zhongli …?” you responded squinting your eyes at him. You looked at his dress and then at the nearest clock on the desk, you rubbed your eyes once you saw how late it had gotten, “I didn’t know it was so late.” 

“Come to bed.” he stood in the doorway, taking over the space with his presence. 

“I will, I still have a few things to get done. I’m pretty close … I think.” You return your focus to the documents in front of you, not noticing Zhongli has moved next to you. 

Suddenly, the chair you were sitting in was jolted backward, in shock, you let out a small yelp. Hands grip onto your wrists and pull you into a standing position, before lifting you up and over Zhongli’s shoulder. 

“What … Zhongli!” you protest but he isn’t listening to you. Instead, he puts out the lantern in the room and carries you from the study. When you are back in the bedroom he drops you onto the bed, your head falling in between the pillows. You sit up to question him. 

“Sleep.” He commands, pushing your body back onto the bed with a shove. 

“I’m not tired, and I still have work to …” the words catch in your throat when you see him looking at you, his amber eyes glowing. Reluctantly, you climb under the sheets and rest your head on the pillow. You watch as he removes his robe and hangs it up on one of the small hooks next to the bed. You catch his bareback in the moonlight and can’t help but admire him. 

He slides into bed with you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I really don’t feel tir …”

“Sleep.” He says, pulling you close to him. You lay there for a bit, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft breathing of your partner next to you. Soon, and without warning, you drift into a deep sleep. 

Diluc

He often keeps to himself, he stays in his lane and he likes it there - it’s never too messy or loud - this characteristic means he probably wouldn’t notice or question if you are working, or overworking 

He finds your work ethic something to admire actually, and since he also works quite frequently he wouldn’t think anything of it 

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” he may mention in passing. 

“Oh yeah, I just haven’t had a lot of time to make it back and forth with how busy I’ve been.” he notices you have a lot of papers sticking out of your bag and the ink stains on your hands. 

“Understandable,” he gets how hard it is to balance everything all at once, which is why he only takes on what is manageable. “You are always welcome to work at the winery, the maids won’t bother you.” 

“Really? That would be great actually, I had some things to do out that way. I’ll drop by later!” he’d respond with a simple nod and watch you fade into the busy streets. 

He’s very observant though, especially for those he cares about. So he’d start to pick up on all the stimulants you be drinking, or how tired your eyes were, and even how you stumbled or forgot things way too often 

“The maids tell me you haven’t been sleeping?” He’d catch you on your way out from the winery. His arms crossed and his face stern. He took partial responsibility for letting you get away with overworking to the point you aren’t sleeping, if he was around more often he could do more for you. 

“Ah, yeah. I’ve just got a lot to finish and I don’t want to stop until it’s done.” The wind has blown your hair in your face and you’re having a hard time keeping it at bay. 

Diluc walked toward you and tucked the fly-away hair behind your ear, “When you come back tonight, please get some rest.” He let slip his worry for you in those unbelievable eyes. 

“Okay okay, I promise.” 

He’d expect you to keep your promise, and he’d wait up for you until you return 

Diluc - once he gets something on his mind, he will make it happen no matter what 

He heard the sound of the front door open as he sat in his study. He looked at the clock and sighed at how late it was. He was sitting in one of the armchairs positioned by the large bookcases, in his hand was a book about the merchants of Liyue. As he had expected, hence the reason he waited for you here, instead of making your way into bed you entered the dimly lit study and settled into the desk by the window. 

“Is this the bedroom?” His voice broke through the silence and gave you a fright. You dropped your bag onto the ground and grabbed your chest. 

“God-dam… Diluc … you scared me. What are you doing here?” your heartbeat was erratic and you took in some deep breaths to settle it. 

“I could ask you the same question,” he stood up from the chair and walked toward the desk. 

“I wasn’t going to work. I just wanted to uh, put my stuff down.” your attempted lie did not work, he made his way around the desk to stand next to you. 

“Are you breaking your promise?” he looked irritated, you knew he was. 

“No ... “ the beating in your heart quickened at his closeness. You could smell him, feel the heat radiating from him. He stared at you and the heat started to fill you up. 

You felt his fingers snake around your wrist and you gulped. He pulled you behind him, the sounds of your footsteps much too loud in the silent winery. The two of you entered his bedroom and he ushered you to the side of the bed. 

“You’ve been working for days, it’s time to sleep.” He gestured at the bed before walking off to the bathroom. 

“Diluc, I’m not tired, and I still have ..” 

“There are clothes for you on the dresser, please feel free to change into them.” with a sigh, you did what he asked of you. He was still in the bathroom when you sat back on the bed, the sheets pushed down so you could slip under them. 

When he returned, his hair was down and falling around his shoulders. The long red strands moving against his bare chest. It was unfair how handsome he was.

He sat on the other side of the bed before slipping under the sheets. You did the same without a word, laying on your back and placing your head on the pillow. You both lay there for a while and you think, maybe he’s fallen asleep? You stir and attempt to put a foot onto the cold floor when Diluc’s voice stops you cold. 

“If you leave this bed, there will be consequences.” 

Kaeya

Kaeya is all over your workload. He knows just how much you are doing and who you are doing it for - as is common with him - the man who knows way more than he should 

There are no keeping secrets from him, so it wastes less energy to just be honest with him 

He knows you very well which means he won’t bother you or worry about you working extra hours or long days - he also doesn’t have any place to talk since he often does the same - there were some days he only rested when absolutely necessary, but he was trained for that, and you were not 

He knew there would be a point where you wouldn’t be able to maintain this pace, and he would be there to get your stubborn butt to sleep 

“You’ve been working so diligently lately,” he cooed from behind your chair, looking over the documents you had sprawled out in front of you. 

“Hey, Kaeya,” you reach up and put your hand against his head, he returns your gesture with a kiss on your palm. 

“What’s got you so focused lately?” he reaches around you and grabs one of the documents you are looking at. You barely register his prying eyes. 

“It’s something for the Travelers Guild. They are trying to figure out how to better organize and support new recruits.” 

“This looks really thorough,” he places the document back in front of you and points at the words on the paper. “This here, is that going to be do-able with their resources?” 

You both spend a few minutes talking about the problem and coming up with some solutions. 

He keeps a close eye on you, noticing any little change in your demeanor, waiting for the moment you pass over the threshold of your capabilities

He may even take a few things into his own hands to help deal with the pressure and stress you are placing on yourself. He’ll make sure to make you some delicious food, knowing you are prone to skipping meals, he’ll bring you sweet drinks to keep your energy up, and may even work with you to help you finish quicker 

But the moment he sees you stumble or shake your head over and over from the lack of sleep in a desperate attempt to keep your focus, his whole support plan changes 

“Alright, time for rest,” He’d say, pulling you from your work even as you complain to him. 

“Kaeya, hold on. I need to get this done.” you lean forward, grasping at the desk to stop yourself from being pulled backward. 

“Nope, this can wait,” he reaches for each of your hands and pries them from their hold. “You’ve been working on this non-stop, it’s time to take a break.” He forces you to stand up, his arms wrapped around your chest so you can’t wiggle away. 

“Please,” you beg, resting your hands on the arms engulfing you. “Just a little bit longer …” you try and make your words sweet, like a tempting fruit. You feel Kaeya’s lips touch your ear, his face nuzzling into your hair. 

“Try as you might, my dear, but you aren’t getting anything over on me. Plus,” he breaths against your ear, “I’m much more devious than you are.” You’ve been working so long that the closeness of him, his breath on your ear, his arms wrapped around you, it makes your head dizzy.  “Now, up we go.” 

He carries you through the halls forcing you to breathe in his scent as he holds you to him. 

“Unfair.” you pout in his arms. 

“I know.” 

When you finally reach your shared bedroom he places you gently on the thick sheets. As soon as you make contact with them you feel the tug of sleep pulling at the edges of your mind. 

Kaeya is always concerned about your health - and while he will be forceful in making you rest, he would never be irritated with you for wanting to push yourself and accomplish your goals 

He wanted to support you no matter what, and if that meant being your barometer, well, he was fine with that

“Kaeya,” you hum against him in the darkness of the bedroom. 

“Hm?” his chest vibrates your hands and you scoot closer to him, your face inches from his neck. 

“Do you think I could just work for a little bit …” 

“Y/N …” his tone has hints of a threat in it. 

“I just want to make sure I’m helpful …” 

“You can do that tomorrow, for now, rest.” he tightens his hold on you, knowing you might try to escape. 

“But …” 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll make it so you’ll be exhausted for days. Then who will you be helpful to, hmm?” 

That night your mind fills with pleasant and heated dreams.

[gotnofucks]

Special Training

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve takes special interest in your training

Words: 2k

Warning: Non-con, authority abuse, smut, very slight breeding kink, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: dedicated to the sweet girl who doesn’t want to be named. She wanted some tough love for daddy Steve...hope you like it hon

MASTERLIST

+++++

You ducked at the last moment, rolling under your opponent’s legs and grabbing them as you stood up. The body fell on the mat behind you with a thud, and you panted as the buzzer finally went away. Dropping down next to the fallen comrade you blinked the sweat away from your eyes, hand reaching out to pat his back.

“You alright man?” You asked and he nodded with a strained groan.

“Damn Y/n, you keep getting stronger every day. I bet you’ll be taken in the team very soon.” He commented and you smiled. Getting into Avengers was a dream, but the training for it was a bitch. Hours after hours of slaving away in the gym and field, dodging punches, and bullets until you prove your metal.

“Thanks Nico, I hope you’re right.” You said and helped him stand up.

“Dude, you don’t need to worry. Your punch is as strong as –”

You stopped listening to Nico then, body tensing as you saw him approaching you. The training gear he had on defined every muscle on his body, and you gulped when his eyes locked yours in place. Nico followed your gaze and broke off, pulling off an awkward salute.

“Captain!” He greeted, blushing at his obvious eagerness. Every new trainee wanted to please the Captain, wanted to get noticed to increase their chances of selection. Steve’s face remained emotionless as he regarded you both, nodding once in acknowledgment.

“Agents, done for the day?” He asked and you both nodded, hands behind your backs and shoulders straight. He hummed and handed a sheet of paper to Nico. “You’re being transferred to Sargent Barnes’ training group Agent, you’ll report to him from tomorrow.”

Nico didn’t question the decision, simply agreed. One doesn’t argue with Steve Rogers, not if they wanted to stay on his right side. People may call him the kindest man they had met, but he didn’t accept any cheek on the field. He worked his agents hard, challenged them until they almost dropped dead. He made them sweat until they had shed every last layer of what Steve found problematic before accepting them. Most agents under him didn’t make it very far for they either quit under pressure or asked for a transfer under some other trainer.

Currently, only five people were under Steve’s command, including you. Well, four, now that Nico was being transferred. You had a hunch what prompted this, and you didn’t fancy knowing if your assumptions are correct.

“You’re dismissed. Agent Y/n, stay. We must have a word.”

Nico left the room without a backward glance and you fidgeted under Steve’s gaze until the door shut behind Nico. His eyes were so intense you almost couldn’t meet them, and once you did, they never let you look away.

“Come” He ordered and led you out the back door. It was a silent journey to his office, the sounds of your feet slapping the floor echoing around the hall. His huge form looked so big he seemed to dwarf the whole place and you gulped in nervousness. He let you enter first, shutting the door behind him and locking it securely though you knew no one would dare enter without knocking.

“On the desk” He said but before you could move yourself, he was already picking you up and depositing you over his work desk. Papers crinkled under you, but he gave them no notice, eyes rivetted to you.

“Captain” You whispered, and his hands were in your hair, pulling harshly to tilt your head so he could capture your mouth in a searing kiss. You whimpered, his tongue swirling in your mouth and hands tugging.

“What have I told you about calling me when we’re alone baby?” He asked in a husky voice and you pathetically sniffled.

“Steve” You replied, and his lips moved to your neck.

“And?”

“Stevie”

“And?”

“Daddy”

He took your hand in his, placing a kiss on your palm before moving it to the front of his pants. Squeezing himself through you, he let out a moan in your neck, humping against you.

“That’s right, say it again”

“Daddy, please.” You said and his gaze darkened, lips capturing yours harshly again. It was all teeth and tongue, hands squeezing tight. Your hands were around his arm, useless against his strength. His breath was fanning your cheek and you felt one of his hands pull the drawstrings of your tracks.

“You’re getting so good I think I need to train you exclusively. One on one” He said, and you shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You didn’t know how you caught the Captain’s eyes, or why he was so fixated with you. But you couldn’t take anymore of this. This was blatant abuse of authority and you were stuck with it. Who could you complain to? Who would even believe you?

“Please don’t. I want to train with my friends.” You plead and Steve chuckled darkly, hands hooking into the waistband of your tracks and pulling them down. He rubbed his cheek on yours, the slight stubble scratching you and making you quiver.

“Friends, is that what was happening with you and that pathetic boy out there?” He snarked and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your legs were bare, and he stepped between them, gathering you close so his hardness rubbed against your clothed center.

“We were only training. Honest.”

He humped you, leaving open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and covered breasts.

“You can forget about him or any other man from now on. I don’t want any hands touching you unless its me.”

He raised your eyes to meet his, delicately wiping the tears away. You sobbed, eyes anguished and troubled.

“Please Steve, don’t do this. I – I just want to be a good soldier. I don’t want this, I never did”

Your words didn’t even make him bat an eyelid, instead, he dipped his hand between your thighs, pushing aside your damp panty and feeling you. As his fingers probed you, a mortified mewl escaped your lips, your heart breaking at the unwanted sensations forcefully administered.

“You don’t want it? Baby, you’re weeping for me. Why can’t your heart accept what your body did all those months ago?”

You rested your head on his chest, tired and so helpless. The smoothness with which his fingers entered you made you ashamed. How could you be a good agent if you could not control your own body’s reaction. Steve could play you however you want, he could make your howl despite protests flowing from your mouth. He didn’t care if you pushed him away, for he was so much more stronger. He took you without consent, just like he’s doing now.

Holding you around the waist, he carried you to his chair, sitting down. He fumbled with his own pants, finally pulling out his thick cock that he forced into your hands. You stroked, more out of habit than anything. He had trained you well in the ways of pleasure. He taught you what he liked, regardless if you wanted to or not.

“Inside baby, I want to be inside you now.” He hissed as he pushed instinctively in your palm. You positioned him below your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. A broken cry escaped you, the initial stretch still hurting despite how many times he had taken you. Your moans mixed with sniffles, heat surrounding you as you bounced on him, slowly, finding your rhythm. He held you close, intimately close, and extremely possessive.

He rutted into you, meeting you for every thrust, hitting your spot each time. His hands plucked at your nipples, your clit been mashed between a thumb and finger and soon you were falling, crying out around him. He didn’t let up and pushed into your limp body, going almost feral. You could feel every inch of him, sliding in and out of you. You could feel his sweat mixing with yours underneath your butt, you could feel like stench settling in your pores and making you his.

“So good baby girl, so good. Come on, give daddy another one.” He said and you shook your head, too exhausted. He didn’t care about the soft no’s your muttered, he didn’t care about your legs that trembled around him. He rammed into you with abandon, grunts leaving his mouth and hitting your damp skin. He pinched your clit and the coil inside you tightened, you tried to push away, you pleaded, yet he kept up until your sensitive flesh was almost painful. With one hard, almost brutal thrust, you came undone again, falling apart one more time as he followed you.

He weakly pushed up even as he softened, hugging your body to his. The golden hair on his head were plastered to his sweaty forehead, tickling your nose as he kissed you, teeth pulling at your lip and then letting it snap away. His cum was dripping down around you, and yet he didn’t pull out. He would let it cool on your skin, dry into flakes as a symbol of his ownership. You cried, tears streaming down and he bent down to lick them away.

“It doesn’t need to be difficult Y/n. You’re mine, you were mine since the moment you entered the compound. You only need to accept it.” Steve said, his hand rubbing your back to sooth you.

“Please, I can’t take it anymore. This is wrong.”

His hands cupped your face, rubbing your plump and red cheeks softly. The blue in his eyes drowned you, a cesspool from which it was impossible to escape.

“Baby, you don’t need to worry. Daddy is going to take good care of you. You want to be an avenger, don’t you? I’m gonna make you one.” He promised you and you shook your head. You didn’t want to be in the team because you laid on your back and opened you legs for him. Not like this.

“Please Steve, just let me go. You know I won’t tell anyone. Please.”

He sighed as if you were a silly child who was taking too long to understand two plus two made four. He patted your head patronizingly, rubbing his nose to yours and pecking you almost affectionately.

“Y/n, you can be so cute.” He mocked. “It’s amazing how you think I will ever let anyone, or anything take you away from me. You’re mine, now and forever. Nothing will change that, ever.”

He pulled out of you, pulling your soiled panties back into place. He didn’t even need to instruct you now to not wash his essence away. You knew he would be back later tonight, sneaking in your room to inspect and take you again. No matter what you did, you would never be able to shake him off.

You both dressed and he pulled you back into his lap for his customary after-sex cuddle. He was tender, trying to soften you to him but it only sickened you more. He had inserted himself in every part of your life. Everywhere you went, you saw him. Your own body smelled more like him than yours.

“If I see you with that Agent or another man again, I’ll have the doctor remove the hormonal implant from your arm to show everyone you’re mine.” Steve warned, his hand rubbing over your belly. Your heart thudded painfully, the threat of a pregnancy worse than anything else. Not only will you never escape him, but your dreams of being an Avenger would be over. You nodded, letting him know you understand, and he kissed your head.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll come around. I will fuck the acceptance into you.” He said and you closed your eyes when he started rocking you, resigned to your fate.

Taglist:

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Protected : (dark!Peter x reader) literally adding this link everywhere hoping this would work for maybe some of you.

@shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @littlegasps @what-is-your-wish @bluemusickid

[grimwalker]

It’s not that Hunter was jealous or anything, of course not. He just didn’t like being the odd one out, didn’t like not having what everyone else had. And what, exactly, is it that Hunter didn’t have? Well, a date.

Grom season had come too quickly and Hunter was the only member of the Emerald Entrails to not have a date. Skara had been the first to get asked out; her boyfriend had done a big gesture in order to ask her. Hunter had scoffed at it when it happened, too focused on his studies and practicing for flyer derby to really care for grom. Willow had been next, asked by a girl from the plant track that was in one of her classes. Hunter, although still too invested in his studies, had found time to tease Willow of her date. But the moment Willow had asked him about his own, he looked away and changed the topic. Following her by only a few hours, Gus had texted the group chat to announce that he had gotten a date as well. Hunter had been in class so when he grumbled and huffed in annoyance from the text, his scroll had gotten confiscated.

Even Viney, who had never shown such interest in another witch, had secured herself a date for the dance. But unlike the others, she refused to disclose who it had been that asked her out. Which was fine. It was fine.

Then two days before grom, Amity Blight asked Luz to be her date in near perfect Spanish at lunch. Hunter had bent his spoon out of frustration before excusing himself. He had no idea where he was going, but after wandering around the halls for a few moments, he finally settled into an empty classroom. He sat at the back of the room, hunched over and repeatedly hitting his head against the desk.

It was ridiculous of him to feel like this. It was his own fault that he hadn’t made personal enough connections to earn him a date. Before the Day of Unity, his rare visits on campus were full of the other kids ignoring and flat out disliking him. Then, he believed it had been because he was the Golden Guard.  But even now, months after the Isles rid itself of Belos and Hunter no longer held such a pretentious title, most kids still didn’t care for him.  So if it hadn’t been his title, then what exactly had it been?

Was it his overachiever attitude? His need to succeed and be better than everyone else despite there no longer being such high expectations of him? Was it the way he could talk without end on his favorite topics? That when he joined study groups, he had actually expected there to be studying instead of simply hanging out?

Hunter had done everything he could to pull himself out of the harmful habits Belos had carefully and brutally implemented into his life. But despite the progress he had been making, it seemed like he could never make friends without them hating them at first. Even then, those friendships never lasted. All of them had slowly but surely quit talking to him. And he would never admit it out loud to anyone, but that hurt him more than he liked.

“I’m all for trying new ways to get your mind off things, but your forehead is really red, so maybe you should stop.”

Hunter is pulled out of his self pity by the sound of Viney’s voice. He stopped banging his head against the desk and looked up, shoulders still hunched. She had a small smile on her face and her brows were furrowed.

“I went to lunch and didn’t see you there,” Viney began. She pulled out the seat from the desk in front of Hunter, and sat backwards on it. She folded her arms over the back of the chair. “Willow said you ran away right after Amity asked Luz to grom. What’s that about?”

“It’s nothing,” Hunter immediately replied. Viney looked surprised at his quick reply and he regretted answering too fast. He sighed and dragged the palm of his hand down his face. “it’s just...nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Dude, we’re friends, you can talk to me. I know you can be a little spontaneous and stuff, but even this isn’t like you,” Viney said with a halfhearted chuckle. She paused, studying Hunter for a moment before she leans in closer. Whispering, she asks, “is this about grom?”

Hunter tensed, straightening his posture for a second before sliding down in his chair, throwing his head back. “I didn’t think I cared this much about grom. It’s just a stupid dance! But then everyone started getting dates for it and...I guess I never realized how superficial most of my relationships were until now.”

Viney snorted and Hunter glared at her. “Superficial? It’s been months, there’s no way any of your relationships with us are that fake. I wouldn’t be here trying to talk you out of your pity party if I didn’t actually care about you.”

Hunter hummed and sat up. He looked back at Viney and found her already staring at him. He flushed at the attention, suddenly feeling stupid for acting childish about such a minor thing. Many people go to grom alone or with friends, it wasn’t like dates were mandatory.

“Look, I was going to wait because he wanted to be here too, but,” Viney paused, taking her eyes off Hunter to look out the windows instead. “Jerbo’s my date to the grom.”

Hunter frowned, the moment ruined for him so suddenly by this confession. He huffed, “how is this supposed to help me?”

“Oh gee, thanks Hunter, it means a lot that you’re happy for me. It’s kind of a shame that this isn’t surprising to you, but no yeah, let’s not consider the fact that I might be leading up to something,” Viney said with mock annoyance.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” Hunter muttered. “It is a surprise. I didn’t know you liked Jerbo like that. I just don’t understand how this has anything to do with me.”

“It’s because we wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to grom with us.”

In a second, Hunter sat up straight in his chair, face flushed. He stared down at the desk and its faded vandalism. “Look, I’m happy for you, okay? But I am not third wheeling you two on your date to grom. That’s pathetic.”

“Not like that! I meant it as a date!” Viney laughed.

“A date? But aren’t you two already each other’s dates?”

“Yes, but we also want you to be our date,” Viney said. Hunter glanced back up at her and could see that her face was just as red as his felt. “The three of us would be each other’s dates. We’ll be spending time with each other equally.”

Hunter frowned for a moment, taking in what Viney had just said. “Oh.” Jerbo and her wanted Hunter to go to grom with them as a date. Viney and Jerbo had mutual feelings for each other, and Viney just confessed that they both also have feelings for Hunter. And, dear Titan, the idea of having not one but two dates to grom was enough to fluster him. But even more so, the idea of Viney and Jerbo being those two dates, well...Hunter hadn’t realized just how much he would enjoy to have those two in his company like that. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Are you being serious?’

“Jerbo wanted to be here, but the common mold has the worst timing, honestly. Hopefully he’ll be good for grom or else he’s going to owe us a date for bailing.”

Us, Hunter repeated in his head. He brought his hands together under the table tapping fingertips to fingertips. The three of us, on a date.

“So...what’re you thinking?” Viney asked, voice a bit less confident than it just was.

“I think--” Hunter’s mouth curled upward into a smile as he and Viney made eye contact. She grinned back at him. “--that I would like that.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

[spactcle]

you say it first

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou Language: English

Summary: “I can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “Because then he’d know.” Kirishima and Bakugou seek advice from their friends about UA's worst-kept secret (except, apparently, from them).

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou.”

Kaminari is bent over his homework, cheek resting on his fist. His shoulders freeze, he doesn’t look up from his workbook, but his pen stops scrawling across the page. After a few beats, he lifts his chin and plops it on his fist instead.

“I mean… obviously.”

“What?”

“Dude, c’mon. I know I’m me and this will sound weird but let’s get serious and study, please? My grades don’t have time for you to state the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Kirishima pops up from where he's sprawled out on the ground, looking at Kaminari in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows, slick,” Kaminari retorts, sarcasm dripping from the nickname. “Now we have finals next week, can we please focus?”

“Everyone?”

“Okay.” Kaminari’s hands clap together and he snaps his workbook closed. “Clearly we are focusing on the wrong thing. Why are you bringing this up,” the tip of his finger jabs as his closed workbook, tapping at it for effect, “now?”

“Why have you not brought it up?” Kirishima accuses, arms gesturing widely.

“Because I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

Kaminari jabs his finger accusingly at Kirishima instead now. “They’re your feelings, Kiri!” His finger curls back into a fist and he brings it to his lips, brow drawing in with concern as he thinks. “Your weird, weird feelings. But still.”

Kirishima blows a raspberry at him, leaving his lips out in a pout with the gall to look offended. “How are my feelings weird?”

“Bakugou is an emotionally constipated trash can,” Kaminari deadpans. “And you’re… I don’t know? Whatever the opposite of that would be.”

“Diarrhea recycling bin.”

A beat. Kaminari’s face pulls back into a disgusted grimace. “Really could have done without that mental image.”

Kirishima shrugs and starts to nervously pull at his hair. It’s a Saturday and he didn’t style it today, just has his bangs pulled into a half ponytail behind his head. Kaminari has told him to just chop it off but Kirishima insists that it’s part of my brand, and besides how is Blasty going to call me shitty-hair if I don’t have any?

His confusion is what’s most baffling to Kaminari. They’re in their third year and it feels like Bakugou and Kirishima should have figured each other out by now – they know one another better than anyone else could, so how are they so bad at this? Kaminari figured out his feelings for Jirou the previous year, Midoriya and Uraraka got together just a few months later, and even Kendou and Tetsu finally stopped beating around the bush. Now that he thinks about it, a lot of people more emotionally dense than Kirishima have confessed to their respective partners, like Todoroki and Tokoyami.

One of Kirishima’s sharp teeth hangs over his bottom lip as he chews at the skin. It makes Kaminari feel a little bit bad. But only a little. He really should have joined Jirou and Momo for studying instead.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he repeats his previous question but without the edge to his voice, trying to exercise patience for his friend.

Kirishima collapses on the table, voice muffled by his arm. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Kirishima lifts turns his head up slightly to glare at him from over his arm. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he’d know.” He hides his face again.

Kaminari rolls his eyes so far back he’s surprised he doesn’t see the inside of his skull. “That’s usually the idea.” Kirishima’s answer is a wordless scoff, tongue sputtering around words he can’t form. “Just tell him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.” The sputtering worsens and Kirishima snaps his head up from the table, gawking at Kaminari as his face turns as red as his hair.

“I said I was serious!”

“Yeah, seriously blind.”

“What?”

This time Kaminari is almost positive he sees his skull, but that could just be his vision whiting as he strains his eyes. “Kirishima Eijirou,” the full name absolutely required to get his full and undivided attention. “The fact that you and Bakugou have got it bad for each other is the worst kept secret in the entire school – except, apparently, from the both of you. I’m almost positive that there’s some kind of bet going around about when you two will stop being complete boneheads and make it official.”

Kirishima’s eyes wandered around the room as if searching for a cosmic answer to all his problems. “We… bet? Bakugou… I’m…”

“Yes. Now can we please study? And you can deal with your love life later?”

Kirishima’s cheeks grow big as he puffs them up with air and stares blankly at their workbooks. Kaminari gives him a full minute then clicks his tongue and starts to pack up. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here to process. Good luck, bro.” He sets a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder as he wraps his other arm around his schoolwork. “I know I said it was weird and all – and in my defense, it is – but I think we’re all rooting for you two.”

Lips formed around words that didn’t seem to want to come out of Kirishima’s mouth and Kaminari just sighed, patting him on the back before making his exit. He really should have just studied with Jirou and Momo.

- - -

“I think Kirishima is in love with me.”

Uraraka looks up from her place at the desk. She spins in her chair to find Bakugou collapsing on her bed, then she looks to find the hidden camera that someone must have hidden in her room. No one pops out of her closet laughing, and Bakugou is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, arms lying limp at his sides. He’s frowning in the way that he only does when he’s encountered an obstacle that he can’t quite figure out. So, this isn’t a prank.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He snaps up, rage normalizing his expression again, and argues, “Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell?”

Uraraka frowns at him pointedly and his lips fall out of the snarl and into a resigned grimace, a sign that she has come to recognize as his apology. “Kirishima, for starters.”

“Fuck that.” Bakugou flops back onto her bed. “Why should I have to do anything when he’s the one in love with me?” He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it’s the one that he came to for advice on his love life.

“Are you in love with him too?”

Instantly, his expression closes off. He turns his face away from her and lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Bakugou?”

“Shut up. The hell are you asking for anyway?”

Uraraka’s cheeks blow up with air before she huffs at him. “It’s the obvious question.”

“The fuck it is.”

“If Kirishima burst in here, just as rudely as you did, and declared his love for you – what would you do about it?”

Bakugou’s head turns away from her, but she can see the back of his neck redden and she isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied by that. He’s treating his and Kirishima’s feelings as if it’s some huge secret and revelation – but she, Deku, Todoroki, and Tsu have a bet about how long it will go before one of them does something about it. Iida disapproves.

If it happens in the next week, the pot goes to Todoroki.

Her bet starts the week after.

He’s lucky that Uraraka is at least a big enough person to help him now instead of waiting.

“Probably something along the lines of,” she clears her throat, bringing her hands together and resting them against her cheek, then continues in a high pitch, “oh, Kirishima, I love you too! Sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sits back up before she’s even finished, hands poised to attack, and face screwed into a scowl, but the effect is decidedly lessened considering the deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up if you want to graduate, round face!”

She leans back in her chair, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t fucking bother me.”

“It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.”

“It—” His mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart away from her. His ears also start to turn pink and then he zeroes in on her with a sharp glare. “You bother me.”

Uraraka rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Everything but Kirishima bothers you.”

“He bothers me too.”

“Because he hasn’t told you that he loves you.”

“Fuck off.” He throws himself backward on the bed, again, arms crossed over his chest as he glares are the ceiling instead of her.

She observes him. Over the years, she’s learned to read Bakugou – being one of the few to earn his respect early on had those perks, if it could be called that. But she knows when he’s thinking too much – which is what he’s doing right now.

“Bakugou, why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you need me to tell you that you need to tell him?”

“I don’t need you at all,” he snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.

She ignores him. “You should tell him.”

Bakugou makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “He’s the one that always goes on about manliness. What the fuck is manly about keeping shit to yourself?” His arms uncurl from his chest and his fingers make a fist. “Fucking own up to it.”

“Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want,” she points out, tilting her head to the side. “So… if you want Kirishima, then shouldn’t you say something?”

He doesn’t reply, and his arms fall back onto the bed. Uraraka shrugs and turns back to her desk. Their finals are coming up after all and he interrupted her studies.

“I’m fucking going to sleep,” he says finally, pushing himself off the bed.

“Or you could help me study,” she offers without turning around, voice airy. She knows the answer to that.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You only ever help Kirishima.”

There’s a small explosion as the door slams behind him, but Uraraka smirks and isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied.

- - -

What the fuck does Uraraka know anyway? She’d shacked up with Deku a year ago, so Bakugou clearly overestimated her judgment and overall sense.

Truthfully, not that he would ever say this out loud, Bakugou doesn’t know why he went to her room. He doesn’t know why he was so tracked on this when his main objective should be elbowing his way to the top of his class. Finals were soon for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was he worrying about Kirishima or feelings for, anyway? He is Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he is going to be the undeniable number one.

Hands clenched into fists, the right one still steaming from his outburst at Uraraka’s last words, he takes the girl’s elevator down to the common area. Water first, then he’ll take another practice exam before sleeping. He shoves his clenched hands into his pockets and stalks across the common area.

It’s dark outside and the rooms here are empty, everyone already separated into studying groups or gone to bed. If this was two years ago, Bakugou would already likely have been asleep. He didn’t normally stay or socialize in the common room, and if he did it was only for a few minutes or maybe an hour. But Kirishima persisted and it was annoying. He wouldn’t fucking leave Bakugou alone or stop nagging him about hanging out with his peers more (Your friends, Kirishima would correct him, but Bakugou only started calling them peers in their second year). How was he ever going to connect more with their classmates if he just holed himself up in his room to study?

Fuck you. I fucking help you, don’t I?

Exactly! And now we’re best bros!

When the hell had Bakugou asked for more friends? He hadn’t even asked for the one!

But, honestly, he’s quietly glad he’d been forced out of his room, even if he won't admit it out loud or say it in so many words. Some – and only some – of his classmates were actually pretty cool. His friends from before hadn’t really been friends. Lackeys, maybe… Kids that were taken with the boy with a great quirk and a domineering personality. Other bullies, he reminds himself. And he’d been fine with that at the time. He hadn’t needed anyone else, and he hadn’t wanted them. He would think that other people would hold him back, ask for things, for compromises – or worse, look down on him.

Then Kirishima decided they were friends and Bakugou hadn’t really done anything to stop that from happening. It changed him… for the better.

Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s got more control than this.

Bakugou gnaws at his lower lip, glaring at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table. Blue bell-shaped flowers that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. What he does remember is everyone’s look of surprise when it had been Todoroki carrying those flowers, and with the confidence that he always seemed to possess, walked right up to Iida and asked him on a date. Four-Eyes turned redder than Todoroki’s left side and started sweating so badly that his glasses wouldn’t stay on his face. But the takeaway from the story for Bakugou was seeing Kirishima’s soft, almost sad smile and the awkward way he laughed it off when Bakugou asked him what was wrong.

Well, more specifically Bakugou asked, What the fuck is wrong with your face?

The petals were starting to wither at the edges, but Class 1A had really come together to keep them alive for this long, though he’s pretty sure it was the girl with the vines in 1B that was doing most of the work. The two classes met and hung out a lot more than they used to. It was always so damn loud now.

Scowling, Bakugou keeps moving toward the kitchen. Yeah, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe. Like he doesn’t already know it was the wrong thing to say.

Are you in love with him too?

“Fuck,” he swears, throwing open the fridge. The water bottles were running low, and he frowns, taking one of the last four after a moment of consideration.

When he rights himself, he starts to close the door when Kirishima comes around the corner. Because of course he does, and of course he has his shitty hair down and not styled since Bakugou always thinks he looks so goddamn pretty like that. He looks just as caught off guard to see Bakugou. “Oh, hey man, what’s up?” He asks, his hand going to the back of his head and that fucking adorably shy, little smile on his lips – the one where Bakugou can only see his top teeth and his eyes crinkle a little.

You should tell him.

Bakugou grits his teeth at the thought and wills away the blush that threatens to dust his cheeks as he remembers what Uraraka said. “Water,” he grunts, the fridge door standing awkwardly open as a physical barrier between them. “What are you doing down here?”

“Snack,” Kirishima replies, with a small shrug as he moves closer and further into the kitchen. “Kaminari abandoned me to go study with Jirou and Momo, I think.”

“You think?”

And dammit the huffy little laugh Kirishima lets out, the one that Bakugou recognizes as him being embarrassed makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Yeah. I was distracted…” He starts absentmindedly looking through the cabinets as he speaks. “Thought some food might help, though.”

Bakugou shakes his head at Kirishima. “You’re always getting distracted. You need me there to keep you on track.”

Kirishima glances at him with that smile. “You study by yourself on Thursdays,” he replies with good nature as he moves to the next cabinet, the one full of nothing but dishes. When his eyes return to see the contents, he still stares into it like he’s looking for something, clearly feigning interest and clearly still distracted.

“You could’ve asked if you were having trouble,” Bakugou grumbles, his brow wrinkling as he watches.

Kirishima lets out another awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could,” he agrees. He doesn’t move from the dish cabinet.

Is he pointedly avoiding looking at Bakugou now? A frown lowers on Bakugou’s lips and he stares at Kirishima’s profile for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. Kirishima fills silences, not Bakugou. Kirishima doesn’t avoid eye contact, Bakugou does. Kirishima doesn’t stare into dish cabinets when he’s hungry and looking for a snack, Bakugou—well, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head, annoyed with where this thought process is leading.

Bakugou doesn’t shy away from conflict. And neither does Kirishima. So…

“What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?”

That seems to startle him, and his eyes tear away from the dishes. “Oh! There’s no food in here.” His sheepish laugh returns, but this time it’s annoying because that's the one he uses when he's trying to brush something off. “Guess I’m still distracted.”

“No. You’ve been acting weird all day.” Ever since the Todoroki-Flowers incident, but Bakugou doesn’t say that.

“Have I?” Kirishima asks, closing the cabinet as his eyes dart around the room and look anywhere but Bakugou.

That makes him grind his teeth. He knows Bakugou hates being answered with questions. He was going to wring this shitty-haired, perfect piece of shit’s neck. His gaze zeroes in on Kirishima and he narrows his eyes. “Kirishima.”

At the sound of his name, ruby-red eyes find Bakugou’s own, and he blinks rapidly. “Uh…” He stutters as sharp teeth worry at this bottom lip and Bakugou hates the way he can’t help but follow that movement. Pink dusts Kirishima’s cheeks and Bakugou’s hand clenches into a fist as he tries to avoid moving over there to touch and see if his cheeks are warming with the color. The bottle crackles in his hand as he squeezes it. “Sorry, Bakugou. I’m really just a little distracted, honest.”

Bakugou looks at him, his expression gradually easing out of irritation. He feels like there’s something in his throat and he still hates it. “Tch. Just come get your damn food,” he says, stepping away from the fridge like an offering. And he hates that he knows that Kirishima will recognize that as Bakugou looking out for him in his own way – that it’s his way of saying eat something and maybe that will help.

He hates it even more that it works.

A knowing smile flits across Kirishima’s lips and he nods. He says something that Bakugou doesn’t register because all he can think about is that Kirishima is moving closer and stepping around him to take a look in the fridge. He stands back, watching the back of Kirishima’s head as he looks through what he could eat, and the proximity makes Bakugou’s chest feel full, and his hands sweat, and he hates it.

No. Fuck. He doesn’t hate it.

Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.

Uraraka really got in his head. Because she was right. It did bother him. Kirishima was good with feelings. He was the one that was always encouraging Bakugou to embrace his emotions – shit, all the nights they’d spent staying up talking after Bakugou woke from nightmares to a panic attack and Kirishima could hear him through the walls. Kirishima vocalized his worries and his anxieties, he used them to talk and relate to their classmates and lower classmen, hell, even villains. Because Kirishima was good.

It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.

Of course, it bothers him! Why should Bakugou have to take the initiative here? He was never the one who had to take the initiative before. Kirishima brought him into a friendship kicking and screaming, but that didn’t deter him. Even on Bakugou’s worst day, he knew Kirishima would still be there.

Are you in love with him too?

Fuck.

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima rights himself and looks back at Bakugou like he’s surprised to hear his name again. He turns around and he’s backlit by the light from the fridge like a goddamn angel and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bakugou’s ever seen. Bakugou’s brain feels like mush for the first time in his life and all he can do is glare at Kirishima’s confused face while he tries to decipher what exactly possessed him to say this stupid, wonderful, infuriating, amazing boy’s name.

Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want.

Before he manages to catch up with himself, Bakugou finds himself stepping into Kirishima’s space and reaching up to hold the sides of his neck. He's never done this before because no one has ever caught his attention like this, no one has ever felt so close to him as Kirishima, but fuck if it isn’t perfect when he presses his lips to Kirishima’s, swallowing the small gasp that passes his lips.

Kirishima is still for a few beats, but he moves just before Bakugou begins to worry that he made a mistake. His hands find Bakugou’s hips, and he presses back, tilting his head into the kiss.

Bakugou might not know what he’s doing, but even to him, it’s clear that Kirishima does. The hands at his hips don’t stay there for long as they wind behind him to lie flat against his back, just under his shoulder blades as Kirishima bends and pulls Bakugou up into him – when did he get so damn tall? And he will never admit to the noise that he makes into Kirishima’s mouth when his tongue pushes gently into his mouth, or to the way his arms secure around solid shoulders as his fingers twist gently into red hair. He’ll die before he ever says he feels lighter and over the moon and like he’s having a moment straight out of those stupid American movies that Ashido likes so much.

The kiss is slow and sweet and everything like what he thought a kiss from Kirishima would be, because now that he’s actually kissing him, he will admit to thinking about it before. He lets Kirishima explore his mouth with his tongue, letting him lead and he’s never been so happy to follow.

As it slows to a stop, their lips press together in a lingering way and it’s Kirishima that finally pulls away. Despite the way he’d been so confidently and thoroughly kissing Bakugou, his eyes are completely full of questions and some uncertainty, wide and staring at him.

Bakugou looks back at him and realizes they’re still wrapped around each other and he’s a little out of breath. He doesn't know what he did with the water bottle he had in his hand, but it's gone too. No, right now, nothing else matters. So, he sets his jaw and tightens his hold slightly on Kirishima’s shoulders. Resolve. He’s full of resolve. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he goes after what he wants.

“I do what I want,” he says, his voice sure even if a bit winded. “And I want you.”

The way Kirishima’s eyes light up and a slow, blindingly happy smile creeps onto his lips sends Bakugou’s heart into fits and his stomach turns upside down with fucking butterflies.

“You want to do me?” Kirishima asks, a laugh tinging the back of his throat.

Moment ruined.

Bakugou’s cheeks warm faster than his quirk and he knows he’s turned the shade of Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck you,” he says, putting a hand on Kirishima’s face and shoving him away as that piece of shit laughs – and goddammit if it’s not Bakugou's favorite sound.

He pulls away, pushing off of Kirishima’s face as he goes and extracting himself from his arms. He storms away, hands balled into fists at his sides as he swears at himself because he doesn’t know how to fucking do this. The door to the fridge closes somewhere behind him and Kirishima’s laughter follows him to the elevator.

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it!” He says, catching Bakugou’s upper arm and letting himself get dragged onto the elevator as the doors pull open.

“No, it wasn’t,” Bakugou snaps, but all the fire there is just to mask his embarrassment. “I take it back. I hate you.” He shrugs off Kirishima’s hand and jams his finger against the button to their floor.

It doesn’t deter Kirishima in the slightest. It never does. “No, you don’t,” he laughs brightly. He takes his hand back, but steps back into Bakugou’s space as the doors close. “You like me.” His hands find Bakugou’s waist, and he turns Bakugou to face him, his lips pressing warm against flushed cheeks.

Bakugou turns his head slightly away, his hands grasping Kirishima’s forearms, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. “The worst,” he mutters, but still leans into the kisses pressed along his cheekbone.

A low chuckle rumbles through Kirishima’s chest – oh, oh that’s a new one and Bakugou doesn’t know what it means and he’s a second away from worrying about it because he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize Kirishima’s laughs or nonverbal cues and that’s new, but then Kirishima is stepping forward and pushing him back slowly. He presses against the wall of the elevator and it’s cold through his shirt but Kirishima is warm at his front and oh okay, fuck. There’s a little huff that works its way unbidden from his throat and his arms are moving without thinking as he clings to Kirishima.

“The worst, huh?” Kirishima grins, nudging his nose against Bakugou’s cheek for his attention.

And he gives it to him, turning his head back and letting Kirishima kiss him silly again. He feels hot all over, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with his quirk. The cold at his back is exhilarating, somehow, as Kirishima presses him against the wall. He’s vaguely aware that the elevator has stopped moving and the doors are opening but he doesn’t care because Kirishima’s tongue is in his mouth again and it’s such a weird feeling but so, so right when it’s Kirishima.

Those lips trail away from Bakugou’s and he grunts at the loss, but then bites down on his bottom lip as Kirishima makes his way over his jaw and mouths at this throat. That’s when a whine – a fucking whine – forces its way past Bakugou’s tongue. His hands drop to Kirishima’s shoulders and he grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he growls, forcing his voice lower.

Then this mother fucker giggles and pulls away – and Bakugou honestly doesn’t know which one he’s more pissed off at – smiling at him. It’s blinding. “You’re so cute,” he exclaims. “I like you so much.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou groans, digging his fingers into Kirishima’s shoulder and ducking his head as he feels his cheeks redden again.

“Say you do what you want again! Say that you like me!” Kirishima pleads, laughing the whole time.

“Fucking—” Bakugou cuts himself off, not even sure what he wants to say. “You—” He growls unintelligibly again, and pushes Kirishima away from him, even if it is the gentlest push he thinks he’s ever given in his life. He slams his finger on their floor again, and the doors open immediately. He stalks around this laughing, amazing mother fucker and into the hallway, making a straight line to his room.

As always, ever since they were first-years, Kirishima follows. And he’s still laughing like an idiot, and there’s a section of Bakugou’s chest and stomach that is absolutely giddy, and he grinds his teeth instead of smiling. “Bakugou,” Kirishima calls, elongating his name and fuck it’s cute and he’s going to wake the entire floor up and if that happens Bakugou knows that he’ll die.

The door recognizes his fingerprint – a security measure that the school added in last year, but Bakugou knows it’s because some people just couldn’t ever keep track of their damn keys – and the door opens. Kirishima still follows him, stopping the door with his foot and a hand flat on the door. Damn, he is so lucky that Bakugou wasn’t slamming it because he didn’t even harden.

“I just want to talk,” Kirishima says, smiling sweetly at him. The laughter has mostly subsided, but it still shines in his eyes.

Bakugou’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he softens. He loves this boy and it’s so weird to think that so openly to himself now, but he likes it.

“And then, maybe you can cross a few things off your to-do list.” Kirishima waggles his eyebrows, that sweet smile turning into a knowing smirk.

Nope, nevermind, Bakugou hates him.

“You shithead,” he groans. But despite that, he walks away from his door and makes no move to close it again. A silent invitation for Kirishima to enter which is wholeheartedly taken.

It amazes Bakugou how relaxed Kirishima is in his room. He treats it like his own, acting perfectly at home and comfortable as he collapses on Bakugou’s bed. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s brain is reeling. It’s like there are red flashing lights in his head that are screaming at him, Kirishima is in your room and on your bed, as if Kirishima hadn’t ever been here before.

But it’s different now because he just had his tongue down your throat in the elevator and you’re hoping that he does that again, his brain points out.

And it’s fucking right, and Bakugou doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this unsure in his own space. At least not about something this stupid. Sure, there had been his first year where he was the reason that his childhood role model and reason he decided to become a hero had to retire because of him. And the fact that, at the same time, his childhood rival was starting to rise to his level and surpass him. Kirishima had been by his side then, though, and that made things just a little better. And it made him want to be better. But now Kirishima was in his bed and laid out like a fucking angel—

“I can hear you thinking, babe,” Kirishima said, looking up at him with that smile again. The soft one that Bakugou thinks is probably the reason he fell in love in the first place.

Wait. Babe.

Fuck, he’s on fire, he knows it.

Kirishima laughs and holds out his hand, gesturing for Bakugou to take it. “Come sit down. Don’t worry, I promise I just want to talk.”

Bakugou feels so tense. His shoulders feel like they have rocks on them, but he takes Kirishima’s hand and the sweat that’s layering his palm doesn’t seem to be a bother as he’s tugged forward and onto the bed. “I’m not worried,” he grumbles, crossing his legs under himself, sitting across from Kirishima and he knows that his lie is utterly unconvincing in his presence.

The reassuring look on Kirishima’s face is almost enough to make him actually not worry. “Yeah, okay, tough guy,” he chuckles, looking down at their hands and rubbing his thumb over the top of Bakugou’s. It feels nice. Really nice. Bakugou didn’t know he could like physical touch this much, but it feels so genuine coming from Kirishima, who’s one of the only people who’s never been afraid to touch him. And now he’s holding dangerous hands so gently and, fuck, lovingly.

Bakugou can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s overwhelming, or dive in headfirst and drown in it.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Kirishima tells him quietly.

Bakugou wants to say I know or That’s because you have good taste or something confident but instead, his throat feels too dry and he swallows, watching Kirishima’s hands stroke his own.

“I kinda… love you, actually.”

Bakugou dives. Kirishima’s not going to let him drown.

“Me…” He clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Kirishima looks up at him and he looks hopeful, which Bakugou thinks is stupid. He doesn’t need to look hopeful, he should already know. Kirishima knows him better than anyone. For fuck’s sake, Bakugou had been the one to move first – for the first time in their friendship. Relationship? Shit.

“You?” Kirishima prompts him, and Bakugou realizes he’s just been staring at him like a dumbass.

“I love you,” he finishes because Kirishima deserves for him to actually say it, even if his voice is an embarrassed, low grumble. Not just say me too or yeah or some kind of quick exchange where Bakugou gets to leave it unsaid while Kirishima keeps carrying the burden of initiating everything. He doesn’t need Kirishima to initiate everything. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Kirishima’s smile puts every other smile in his arsenal to shame. This one is Bakugou’s new favorite. This is the one he’s going to think about every waking second. The one that’s going to get him to do whatever Kirishima wants, and he’ll do it happily behind a mask of annoyance because that’s just how he is and Kirishima accepts that about him.

He’s Kirishima fucking Eijirou and Bakugou is so damn in love with him.

It is weird to say, though. Bakugou has never said those three words together before. But it’s not a bad weird, and he still feels like himself. That’s how he knows that it’s true.

“I love you, too!” Kirishima exclaims, reaching for him and cupping his face gently at the jaw.

“Yeah, you said that already,” Bakugou replies, averting his gaze for a few moments for his own sanity before inevitably being pulled back in by the magnet of Kirishima’s pure joy.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” Kirishima insists. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I’ll be fucking pissed if you don’t.”

Kirishima’s lips are already on his by the end of his sentence, because he already knew the answer would be yes. It’s just as good as the last three kisses, and Bakugou wonders when he’ll stop keeping count.

This one is different though because Kirishima is pulling Bakugou closer but they’re sitting down. But he wants to be closer, too, so he moves and it’s strange. But this is clearly not the first time for Kirishima, because his hands are on Bakugou’s waist to help him move and arrange them in a mess of limbs where Bakugou sits on Kirishima’s lap. Now his hands are on Kirishima’s neck and he’s above him for the first time. Hand spread over his back and the tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he feels so helpless but safe like this.

Then laughter once again bubbles up from Kirishima but this time Bakugou ignores him. He’s just happy. That has to be all it is. But it doesn’t stop and increases a little when Bakugou experiments with his own tongue, sliding it over Kirishima’s lips.

Bakugou pulls back and glares down at him. The tips of his ears are red. It’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone before so, of course, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it confidently. “The fuck are you laughing for?” He frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. One of his hands leaves Bakugou’s back and covers his face, pressing the pad of his finger under his eye, tears leaking out of the corner. “This is just crazy. I just went to get a snack.” He pauses, wiping at his eye and looking up at Bakugou with consideration. “Well, actually. I mean, I guess I did kind of get one.” He grins and his hands go back to Bakugou’s sides, looking him over appreciatively.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou groans, dropping his head onto Kirishima’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize how natural that was, so he doesn’t move, turning his head into Kirishima’s neck.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck off.” His voice is muffled on Kirishima’s skin and he fists his hands in the back of Kirishima’s shirt.

“You would miss me too much.” And fuck, if he isn’t right about that.

“Maybe,” Bakugou concedes, a little huffy.

Another bright laugh and this time Bakugou doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “Alright, so now we can hold hands walking to class. I want to cuddle in the common room on movie nights too, okay?” Bakugou scoffs indignantly, but he’s ignored as Kirishima continues with his list, “You have to kiss me good luck before the big exams, too. And before we go on patrol. Oh! I wonder if Fat Gum would let you patrol with us, sometime!”

“You wanna be the one to ask Endeavor?” Bakugou retorts.

“Oh. No.” He feels Kirishima shake his head before he turns down and kisses Bakugou’s forehead. It’s so sweet and domestic and it’s a gesture that Bakugou doesn’t recall ever experiencing before. It makes him feel warm and he picks his head up to press a lingering kiss to Kirishima’s lips instead.

“I will, maybe, do some of that,” he says, knowing full well that he will do all of it if it means Kirishima will keep smiling like this at him, about him, for him, because of him.

“Can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend?” Kirishima asks, brushing a gentle hand through Bakugou’s spikes.

Wow. He really likes the sound of that. Kirishima’s. His. Boyfriend. Which also means, Bakugou’s, mine. It means he’s Kirishima’s and Kirishima is Bakugou’s. He doesn't mind being someone's if that someone is Kirishima.

“…yeah,” he agrees, nodding.

The smile. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see.

“Can I call you Katsuki now?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You can call me Eijirou.”

“Get out.”

Bakugou isn’t sure how long they stay in his bed. They switch between kissing and talking for hours, and he knows it’s getting late because he’s exhausted and falling asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder. He vaguely realizes that he never studied more, which means Kirishima didn’t either. But they were distracted. He’ll make them study tomorrow and hold kissing hostage until Kirishima passes his practice exams.

To avoid Aizawa’s wrath, Kirishima eventually picks himself up to leave and Bakugou finds himself following him to the door. More lingering kisses by the door and Kirishima complains that he doesn’t want to leave and makes another joke about a to-do list. Bakugou pushes him out by his shoulders, Kirishima cackling and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Goodnight Katsuki,” he smiles, kissing him one more time as he leans back in the doorway.

“Goodnight,” Bakugou insists, mostly closing the door.

“Hm?” Kirishima hums, followed by another peck on the lips.

“Goodnight Eijirou,” he says again and receives a very triumphant look from his boyfriend. Fuck, he really likes that. Kirishima’s beaming like he’s won, but Bakugou doesn’t feel like he lost.

“I love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too. Go to sleep!”

It takes a few more tries, but he finally gets his door to close. He can practically see the heart emojis coming off of Kirishima as he leaves.

Finally, he collapses in bed, curling up under his blanket. He stares up at his ceiling blankly for a few minutes before he smiles, biting down on his lips to try to stop it. Then he finds himself laughing quietly, barely a breath and mostly out of his nose, but he’s laughing and he’s so happy.

No. No, he doesn’t hate this at all.

[beskarberry]

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator.  “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son. 

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​

[forlornmelody]

Resurrection Day

Rating: M (just a lot of angst, really. Character death, some graphic violence, and an afterglow moment)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Jayrose, RedArse, 

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   The Outlaws have always had a funny relationship with death, but when one of their own dies, they try to rise from their mistakes.

Note:  Idk if this is a fic, or more my headcanons strung together. Enjoy? 

-*-*

“Do you ever regret it?” 

Jason only half-hears her, his eyelids heavy, and his body so relaxed with release that he might never move again. “Mm?” he mumbles, pulling his body through quicksand so he can lay on his side and face her. 

Rose’s skin still glistens in the evening light, her hair mussed, and her face flushed. Her voice still throaty from moaning and screaming that Jason’s too busy reliving those last straining moments he almost doesn’t hear her again. “Do you ever regret...coming back?”

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Jason gazes down at her with a crooked grin. “To Gotham? Only when Bruce breathes down my neck.”

Snorting, Rose stretches one arm above her head, and her chest rises towards him in a way that makes him suck in his breath. Focus. She won’t meet his eyes, and her lips keep forming words she doesn't speak. “No, I mean. Do you regret being brought back?” The warmth in Jason’s belly turns to ice. 

It’s all too easy to remember that god-awful laugh, and the red haze in his vision, and the blood in his eyes. The searing pain of each blow, and the ache every time he tries to breathe. The numbness that settles in when he reaches the door and finds it locked--when he hears the egg timer on Joker’s signature bomb. 

Remembering what came after is harder. Running out of air. So much water, but it’s thicker than water, and he can’t get to the surface fast enough. Screaming. So much screaming. Is he screaming? Everyone’s trying to kill him. He can’t get out. He can’t get out. He can’t.

“Jason?” Rose only says his name when she’s worried. She squeezes his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin until his vision clears. “Shit. Sorry.” Sighing in frustration, she looks away. “Didn’t mean to bring all that back.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Jason tries to get his breathing under control like his shrink taught him, but it’s easier said than done, and he fears the moment lost by the time he does. He tries to turn it into a joke, to lighten the mood. “That’s like asking if I regret being alive.” Jason huffs a laugh, but it falls flat. 

Rose bites her lip so hard Jason half-expects it to bleed. She looks up at him as if she’s confessing to murder. Sorry, Asshole, I fucked up again. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I was there, you know.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “At the Lazarus Pit?” And there he is, again. Drowning. 

“Yeah.” She swallows, and the next part comes out thick. “I was the one who told Ra’s Al Ghul where to find your body. He let me watch, as a thank you.”

Nowhere in that haze of memory does Jason recall seeing Rose, and that it is a whole new betrayal. “Where?” He sucks in a breath. “When?”

“Guess you weren’t happy to see me.” She snorts. “You tried to kill me. Well. Everyone, really. But you were fixated on me.” Rose looks at him, finally. “Thaila had to pull you off me before I stopped self-healing altogether.”

“And then you...left?” He’s angry, as if he has any right to be. Jason probably would’ve done the same given the circumstances. 

Rose nods. “And the All-Caste offered to take you in, fix you right up. Guess it worked.” A small smile sneaks onto her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

One of Jason’s first clear memories of that time--a lonely night in his cell in The Chamber of All. Wondering what happened to her. If she had died right along with him and hadn’t been brought back. Being so angry when he got back to Gotham and she apparently had a life of her own. His memories of her, after, are a little less clear. But the distant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know. 

----

“Dude, don’t be so hard on her.” Roy polishes off yet another hot dog, licking his fingers. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jason kicks his heels against the edge of the rooftop. He reaches for one of the polish sausages, but his stomach gurgles in protest. Maybe not, then. 

“You’ve no idea what she went through to get you back.” He turns to look at him, with those hazel eyes lingering on Jason in a way that always leaves him feeling, well, naked. Which shouldn’t be an issue right? Roy’s seen him naked plenty of times after a mission. There’s only one shower, and that apartment has one tiny ass water heater. Showering together only makes sense? At least there’s room for the both of them, just barely. It often turns into a game of Twister mixed with hot yoga. And like, there’s never been any problem, yeah? 

But sometimes the way Jason catches Roy staring at him. Makes him wonder. 

If he wants to stare back.

Just every once in a while. 

“Like what?” They really shouldn’t have bought the entire foodcart’s stock so the Old Man Gerasimos “Jerry” Angelos could head home early. This is way too much food, even with Roy’s bottomless stomach. 

“Maybe you should ask her sometime.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Jason licks his fingers. “It’s easier to not talk about it at all.”

Roy laughs. “Ah, just like how you don’t talk about stuff with anyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason gives him a playful look, but the look on Roy’s face stops him short. 

Roy doesn’t answer. He reaches over instead, wiping the mustard that got caught on the side of his mouth. His fingers are so unbelievably warm, like he’s made of fire and not skin. And Jason aches when he pulls away abruptly. 

“I uh, I just remembered that my laundry’s sitting in the washer. Probably stinks already.” Roy rushes off, not even bothering to wipe his fingers on a napkin. 

“It always stinks, Harper!” Jason roars after him, but his friend has already shut the door. 

Roy dies two days later.

------

“Would you be angry if I--we brought Roy back?” They’re on a rooftop, They’ve been waiting here for hours for Valentino’s men to show, and still nothing. Not all the Tuesday tacos in the world can make the night any less stale. Rose is on her fifth one when she gets philosophical.

Jason snorts. “You say that like it’s possible.”

Rose doesn’t say anything, and that’s what scares him.

“It’s not,” he says, louder.

“Why not?” She wipes quac from the corner of her mouth, staring at the rooftop across the street as if Roy’s gonna pop out of the skylight any second. “We brought you back.”

She can’t be serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Rose.”

Rose deadpans at him, her lips tight and firm. “I don’t?”

Jason thinks back to the first time he found her. Her right arm bent backward, her left cradling a wound that had bled out next to her. How her eyes stared out at nothing. Someone had pressed the mute button on the universe, except for the thud of his own heart. He should call someone. Bruce, 911, anyone, but his hands won’t move.  “Right, sorry.” 

It’s a terrible idea, they both know that, but the thought keeps eating away at him. Every time Jason lets his mind wander, it wanders to Roy--his crooked smile, his careless lean--the clumsiness that shouldn’t belong to a world-class archer, but it does. The headquarters seems so empty without Roy in it--so cavernous yet so claustrophobic like it’s going to eat Jason alive. 

-----

Three days later Rose is roundhouse kicking a punching bag when Jason finds her. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit.”

 Rose stumbles, missing the bag completely and tumbling to the floor. “The fuck, Jason!” For someone who sees the future, Rose certainly didn’t hear this coming. 

Jason helps her up. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit. I don’t want Roy going through what I did.” He meets her eyes. “What we did.” 

Rose nods, still breathless and annoyed in a way that makes him want to smother her with kisses. “You got another idea?” Jason swallows, squeezing the hand he’s still holding. “Jason?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know your HLA markers, would you?”

“My what?”

----

 Rose hates going to the doctor. It’s rarely a problem--her regeneration usually prevents her from getting sick, and her injuries hardly last long enough. But she’s been around enough mad scientists that she practically glares holes into the nurse when he brings out the needle. 

“Don’t kill him and maybe I’ll give you a lollipop afterward.” Jason elbows her other arm.

“A lollipop is not what I want to be sucking right now,” Rose fires back, looking at him instead of the needle. She relaxes slightly, and Jason kisses her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

The nurse coughs. “Alright. Easy in--and done.”

Rose swallows, taking in a deep breath. “Finally.” She closes her eyes, then stands up, rushing for the door.

Jason pauses in the doorframe, looking back at the nurse. “Uh, keep us posted.”

“We’ll call.”

----

It’s a stupid idea. The morgue doesn’t even understand why Jason Todd, adopted son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne wants to keep Roy Harper’s body in their freezer, especially when Oliver Queen seems to want it cremated as soon as possible. Bribing the owner doesn’t even work--not with Queen’s fortune also in play. So, Rose concocts some dumbass story about Harper’s biological family coming in from out of town. It’s so crazy that both Queen and the mortician fall for it. 

Both Jason and Rose hold their breath when his phone rings. And Rose, and her fucking precognition, hugs him tight and fucking squeals before the nurse even says it “It’s a match.”

---

“Nervous?” Jason sits next to her, squeezing her hand as the scientist hooks the catheter tube to a vein in Roy’s chest. Jason has a hard time looking at his body, so he focuses on Rose instead. 

“Fucking terrified.” Rose laughs humorously. 

“Trust me, if they try anything I’ll shoot them myself.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

-----

Rose isn’t sure what’s more surprising, the gleam in Roy’s eyes like he just woke up from a nap, or the desperate kiss Jason gives him when he takes his first breath. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all. She should have known from the way Roy always seemed to be in Jason’s thoughts--he always had a convincing lie, and maybe Rose wanted to believe him. Maybe she should feel angry--betrayed, even, but all she feels is relief.

Finally, Jason remembers they’re not alone, and he breaks off from sucking Roy’s face, his face as red as Roy’s hair. 

Roy, on other hand, is not surprised at all. “Missed me that much, huh?”

[aliendes]

BTS reacts to saying something hurtful and then regretting it PT.2

Anon: Hi Angel🥺 i adore your writing and i was wondering if you were going to make a part 2 to the BTS reacts to saying something hurtful I looooove part 1🥺

Anon: Absolutely loved the most recent reaction !! DEFINITELY NEED A PART TWO

Anon: Could YOU PLEASEEEEE DO a part two for the bts reaction where they something hurtful😭😭😭 but fluffy ending if possible, I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING

Anon: Hi dude, I was wondering if you would do a pt.2 to BTS reacts to saying something hurtful and then regretting it, pls do it if you're still thinking bout it!

A/N: ok damn I didn't think you’d want a second part this badly lol but here it is! * I’m sorry this is so shit, this was supposed to be posted earlier today, but I worked from home today because someone at my work was diagnosed with COVID yesterday, which is scary. But then I’ve had a migraine all day, and fell asleep for SIX hours!? That never happens. So sorry it’s so late, not that you guys know that, but still and sorry it’s shit. 

Warnings: angsssssst, fluff, mentions of sex, but no sex, cursing, mentions of cheating in the past, mentions of blood and stiches, a lot of these deal with another member being YN’s best friend, sorry it made things easier D: *unedited as per usual

Word count: 6.7k ~

In your rush to leave the apartment, you hadn’t realized you left your phone plugged in on your nightstand. Now it’s been over an hour you’ve been walking around the streets of Seoul, no way to call your sister, who would likely come pick you up. It’s not like it mattered, you didn’t really want to talk to anyone anyways. You just wanted to walk. It was your coping mechanism for a lot of things; anger, fear, sadness, anxiety. You were feeling a mixture of all of those things, and walking was a relief to you right now.

You continued walking for a little while longer, not realizing that your feet had taken you to your best friend’s apartment building. Letting out a heavy sigh, you figure you might as well crash here, you know Yoongi won't mind. 

Entering the fancy looking building, you pass the guard sitting near the front entrance, showing him your ID, which you thankfully had with you. You knew you were always on the list of approved visitors, and he was shortly letting you up the elevator. 

When you reached your best friend’s door, you held your hand up to knock, but before your fist could make contact with the wood, it was being swung open.

“YN! Oh my God!” 

Your eyes widened in shock as you took a step backwards, not expecting to see him here. “Jin?”

Your tall boyfriend steps over the threshold of Yoongi’s apartment, lifting his arms to hug you, but thinks better of it and drops them to his side. You can see dried tear tracks on his face, red rimmed eyes, and a purple bitten lower lip, all signs that he’s been crying, hard. 

“YN, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, letting fresh tears roll down his cheeks, “I-I was so worried, y-you-”

His mumbling is cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder, making his eyes fall shut as he lets the sobs rack his chest. “Come on, man,” Yoongi says stiffly behind him, “go wash yourself up.” Nodding his head, Jin turns around with one last sad glance in your direction, and disappears down the dimly lit hallway.

Yoongi watches him for a moment before turning to you, gesturing into his apartment with a nod of his head. You hesitate for a moment, briefly wondering if you should just leave, but decide your feet hurt and it’s too chilly to start walking again. Reluctantly, you follow your best friend into his living room and plop down on the couch. Following you shortly after, Yoongi falls next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“He told me what happened,” he says flatly, looking at you in the eyes, “he feels like shit.”

“Good,” was all you could say in response, crossing your arms over your chest. You were done being sad, now you were angry. 

Yoongi sighs next to you, “YN, I know you’re upset. You have every right to be, trust me. But you love him, and he loves you. Right?”

You want to refute him, but he’s right. You both love each other more than anything, you know that. Nodding your head, your bottom lip juts out slightly and starts to wobble. Yoongi squeezes your shoulders at the sight, “I think the two of you should talk it out, hmm?” You nod again, not trusting your voice. “You guys can crash in the spare room, I’ll head out to the studio.”

“You don’t-”

“YN, it wasn’t an offer, it was a statement.”

Knowing how stubborn your best friend was, you shut up and nodded your head again, letting him stand up and grab his jacket. 

“You know I love you both,” Yoongi said, hand on the doorknob, “but I will be upset if you fuck on my furniture.”

You scoff, head twisting back to glare at him, but he was already gone. Shaking your head, you let it fall back onto the plush sofa as you wait for your boyfriend to emerge from wherever he was. 

It felt like hours later when you opened your sleepy eyes, realizing you’d fallen asleep on Yoongi’s living room couch. Blinking a few times, you turn, only to realize you’re laying sideways, and you’re in a warm embrace. 

“Jin?” you mumble, sleepily, as you look behind you at your boyfriend’s sullen expression. 

Closing his eyes and sighing through his nose, he lays his forehead against your shoulder. “I’m sorry, YN,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly, “I’m so sorry. You know I love you, right?”

Turning around in his loose grasp, you hear the squeak of the couch underneath you. Pressing one hand against Jin’s firm chest, you bring the other up to cup his wet cheek. 

“Yes, Jin,” you mumble, making him open his eyes to stare into your own, “I do.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he cries softly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss on his nose, “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for running away.”

He shakes his head, pressing his plush lips to your forehead, “No, don’t apologize. I was just so fucking worried when I got to Yoongi’s and you weren’t here. I thought - I thought something happened to you, you always come here when you’re upset.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek, contemplating his words for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I just got lost in my thoughts,” you chuckle darkly, “but I’m okay, and I love you.”

Another tear rolls down Seokjin’s nose, “I’m so glad I have you in my life, YN. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost you.” He sniffles, making you reach up and wipe at his tears. 

“Then we’re lucky you’ll never have to find out.”

Jungkook and Yoongi are both jogging down the streets near the company building, trying to find where you went. Yoongi was about to have a full blown panic attack when he realized you had completely fled the building with no phone or bag. He was beside himself with grief, his mind turning to the worst case scenarios immediately. 

After not finding you in the immediate vicinity of the building, he and Jungkook split up, Jungkook going to look at your best friend’s house, and Yoongi going to check your apartment. He brought your bag with him, which included your keys. He knew you wouldn’t be able to get into your home without them, and felt terrible that you might be wandering around the city, alone with no way to contact anyone. 

Your bag and jacket in hand, Yoongi took the elevator up to your floor, hoping beyond all hope that he would find you somewhere around here. As he stepped off the elevator, his ears immediately perked up at the sound of light sniffles. Rushing out of the elevator doors, Yoongi stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, sitting on the floor, back leaned against your apartment door, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead is resting on the tops of your bent knees, so you haven’t noticed him yet. He can tell you’re crying by the uneven breaths you take. His heart breaks, completely crumbles in his chest at the site of you attempting to curl in on yourself. 

He instantly rushed forward, dropping your bag and jacket onto the ground next to you, and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out and as he places both of his hands on your shoulders, your head jerks up, startling at the sight of your crying boyfriend.

“Y-Yoongi?” your eyes are so swollen and your vision is so blurry, you think for a moment you might be seeing things.

“Yes, baby,” he whispers, “I’m here, I’m right here.” He watches as realization slowly takes hold of you, your face falling and twisting into a pained expression, almost like you’re disgusted he’s in front of you. 

You sniffle loudly, turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see what a mess he’s made of you. “Please go away,” you murmur into the empty hallway. You don’t see it, but Yoongi’s face falls even more as he realizes you really don’t want him near you. You never shy away from his physical affection, even when you’re upset with him. 

“YN, please,” he begs, hands sliding down your shoulders and your arms, eventually reaching your hands as he gently takes them in his, “let me take you inside, at least.”

Without looking at him, you nod, letting him help you stand with the grip he has on your hands. He lets go of one of your hands and bends over to grab your bag and jacket before getting your keys out and opening your door. You let him lead you inside and into your kitchen, you let him sit you down at your kitchen table, and you let him make you a cup of tea. You don’t take your eyes off a water ring stained to your wooden dining table the entire time, and it isn’t missed by Yoongi. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Yoongi whispers as he sits down across from you, setting your favorite RJ mug on the table, “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said.” You slowly looked up at him, eyes still devoid of emotion. He winced at the fact that he did this to you. “YN, you have every right to hate me, to kick me out, to slap me if you want,” he takes a deep breath, “but you are not crazy. You are not like your mother. You are beautiful, funny, smart, and the most caring woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Being with you has made me a better person, and there is no one in the entire world more deserving than you of love. I’m an asshole, and I used your insecurities against you for a stupid fucking reason. I regret it more than anything, YN.” He was crying by the end of his speech, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. The left side of his lips were doing that twitchy thing they did when he was upset, and you instantly felt the need to embrace him.

Standing up slowly, you move towards your sulking boyfriend, and put your hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, bewildered that you are even touching him. “I don’t forgive you,” you start, making Yoongi’s hope dissipate, “yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. What you did was fucked up, Yoongs.” You whisper the last part, eyes starting to well up again.

Yoongi pulls you down onto his lap, swinging your legs over his lap and hugging onto your middle tightly. “I know. Trust me, I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I promise you I will work every day to gain your trust back.” You lean your head on his shoulder, nodding your head. You weren’t about to forgive him after what he did, but you weren’t about to lose what the two of you had either.

“I love you,” he sniffles, kissing your forehead, “and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t get far before your feet started killing you in your work heels. You made it a couple blocks away before you couldn’t walk any further, and sat down on a park bench. To make matters worse, it had started sprinkling as you sat there. You didn’t have your phone, or a will to get up, so you sat there and sulked in the rain. You figured you would eventually get up and head back to your apartment and fall asleep, but for now you just needed to think. 

Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you contemplated your relationship with Hoseok. He is usually so bright and bubbly, seeing him so angry scares you. On top of that, he called you dumb. You knew he would never harm you physically, but then again, you thought you knew he would never harm you emotionally either, yet he did exactly that today.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the light footsteps nearing your bench over the light drizzle of rain. Nor did you feel the presence of someone sitting next to you, just as drenched as you were. 

Suddenly, you feel a warmth on your knee, making you startle violently, wiping at your face with your already wet long sleeve. It was no use, you were just making yourself more wet. You jumped so hard you caused the owner of the hand to pull away instantly.

“Hoseok?” you ask, blinking through tears, lips trembling due to the cold and your emotions. Looking up at him, you see he’s in no better condition. Eyes swollen and leaking, lip red and bitten, a habit of his when he’s anxious. He has the hand suspended in midair that was previously on your knee, and he looked almost like he was afraid to touch you.

“Baby,” he mutters, though you can barely hear him as the rain starts to pick up, “please come home, you’re going to get sick. I can stay at Jin’s place tonight if that makes you more comfortable.” He sounded completely broken to say those words, like if he spoke them it made it true that he made you uncomfortable. 

At the thought, you furrow your brows. Did you feel uncomfortable with Hoseok? You didn’t think so. Disappointed? Sure. But not uncomfortable.

You shake your head lightly, reaching out to grab his hand in yours. He almost flinches away from your touch, so startled that you would initiate contact right now, but he composes himself and allows you to rest your hands in your lap.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you mutter, gnawing on your bottom lip, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that.”

Hoseok looks even more distraught at your words. “But that’s the thing, I’m a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have hurt you in any way, not just physically. It’s clear that I hurt you with my words, and I’m such a dipshit for doing so. I made a promise never to hurt you, and I broke that promise.”

He was right, he had promised that. Years ago when you first started dating, you had major trust issues because of your cheating ex. Hoseok had taken things slow with you and made sure that you trusted him fully before taking your relationship any further. You were thankful for him, thankful for how caring he was. 

Tears were leaking from your eyes again, mixing with the rain water falling onto your face. “Let me take you home, please, YN?” He sounded so desperate, so small, like if you told him no it would break him.

Staring him in the eye, you nod your head. He lets out a relieved sigh as he stand ups, pulling you with him. 

Once the two of you make it home, Hoseok leads you into the bathroom, both of you cold and shivering. Sitting you down on the side of the tub, he reaches over and turns the knob to turn on the hot water and then pours your honey bubble bath into the stream of water. The smell instantly relaxes you and you let your eyes slip closed as you sigh lightly. Before you could open your eyes, you hear the door to the bathroom opening again.

“Wait,” you rush out, snapping your eyes to Hoseok’s retreating frame. He stops, turning around to face you, lips blue from the cold. “Please,” you beg quietly, “stay.”

Hoseok looks conflicted. He looks like he wants to stay, so badly, but he also looks like he might make a run for it at any moment. “A-are you sure, YN? I can go to Jin’s for tonight, give you some space.”

“Do you love me?” The question surprises you as much as it surprises Hoseok. It slipped from your lips without your permission, giving away how you truly felt because of his words earlier. 

“More than anything,” he answers instantly, dropping his hold on the door knob, “do you think I don’t?”

Hoseok takes a few steps towards your still shivering frame and reaches out to wipe tears from your cheekbones that you hadn’t even noticed were falling. “YN, I am so sorry if I ever made you feel like I don’t love you. I was angry earlier. I had a shit day and that is no excuse for the things I said to you, okay? Don’t let me make excuses for myself. But do not ever think that I don’t love you because of what I said.” His words were soft, yet firm. You could tell he meant everything he said. Sniffling, you nod your head in affirmation. When he stands straight again and goes to walk away, you grab his wrist quickly.

“P-please Hobi,” you whimper, “don’t leave me.”

“Oh Angel,” he says, sitting on the bathroom floor in front of you, “I would never leave you. I just thought you’d want some time to think.” He spoke so softly you could barely hear him over the running of the bathtub behind you.

You shake your head quickly, “I don’t want time to think. I want to talk about it, work it out. Together.”

He smiles sadly down at you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “I don’t deserve you, you know?”

You return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist. “I know,” you whisper into his chest, “take a bath with me?”

“Of course, love.”

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been back to your apartment. Since the incident at work, you’ve been consistently working from home, so you’ve been staying with your sister since you and Namjoon got into the fight.

He’s tried to contact you multiple times, sent you countless texts, and even tried to show up to your sister’s apartment about a week ago. You’ve completely ignored him, other than the one text you sent telling him you were safe and not to worry. You had packed all your essentials so you haven’t needed to go home yet, though you figure you will soon.

You were working on your laptop when you heard your phone buzz on the table next to you.

From: Jimin [2:37 pm]: hey YN

From: Jimin [2:37 pm]: can you come over?

You [2:39 pm]: to the dorms?

From: Jimin [2:41 pm]: yeah, we need to talk to you

You set your phone face down on the table. You felt like they were tricking you into seeing Namjoon. You just weren’t ready to face him yet. You knew you would eventually, you still love him with all your heart, but you really just needed time.

*Bzz*

From: Jimin [2:48 pm]: he won’t be here, I promise

From: Jimin [2:49 pm]: please

You sigh after reading his last message. You loved the boys, you truly did. You knew that they wanted to talk about Joon, but still, it was hard for you to say no to them. Especially Jimin, which is probably why they had him text you. 

You [2:55 pm]: ok I’ll be there at 5

From: Jimin [2:56 pm]: thank you!!

When you arrived at the dorms, the door was unlocked. Knowing they were expecting you, you let yourself in, slipping your sneakers off at the door and making your way towards the sound of voices in the kitchen.

When you walked into the dining area, the three men sitting at the table all turned to look at you. You were met with Jin, Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin.

“Uh,” you started dumbly, “what’s up guys?” You held onto the strap of your bag a little tighter, unsure of what was to come.

“Hey YN,” Jin said, getting up and walking towards you, pulling you into a tight hug, “we’ve missed you.”

You had to bite your lip to start tears from springing to your eyes. Jin was the most sincere person you’ve ever met, and you knew he meant it when he said it. It hurt you worse than you thought it would, seeing them. You missed them, too. Though you missed Joon more.

“Come sit down,” Jimin said softly from the table, “we’ll be quick. Promise.”

“Is Joon here?” Your voice cracked slightly, making Yoongi raise an eyebrow as you sat down across from him.

“He’s with Hobi-hyung and Tae-hyung in the studio,” Jungkook says from next to Yoongi. 

You nod your head and set your back at your feet, folding your hands in your lap. Jin takes a seat next to you, with Jimin at the head of the table. “What did you want to talk about?” 

All four men shared a look before Yoongi spoke up, “Namjoon isn’t doing okay, YN.”

Your head snapped up at this, worry filling your eyes. Jungkook was quick to speak up, “He’s not hurt, YN. Don’t worry. We’re just really worried about him.” He was gnawing on his lip and it made you nervous.

“He hasn’t been eating properly,” Jin whispers from next to you, “or sleeping.”

“He’s been staying at the studio sometimes all night,” Jimin says, “and he’s been staying here.”

This shocked you more than anything else they’ve told you. The reason you and Joon got an apartment is because he wanted his own space. He loved his members, but he liked time to be alone. He hasn’t lived with them in years. 

“He says the apartment smells like you,” Yoongi says, dark eyes staring into yours, “YN, he’s hurting. Bad. What he did was fucked up, but don’t you think he deserves a chance to make it right?”

“Yoongi,” Jin cautions from next to you.

“No, Jin-hyung,” Yoongi cuts in, “I know he hurt you, YN, but he regrets it so much. I’ve never, in all my years knowing him, seen him this affected by something. I’m begging you, please talk to him.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, tears threatening to fall. Jimin gets up and walks around the table to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders as you look at the other three men in front of you. Nodding, you let a single tear fall into your lap. “Okay.”

You decided to wait in Namjoon’s dorm room for him to get home, while Yoongi made up an excuse for why they needed them. When you heard the front door open and the baritone of Taehyung’s voice carry throughout the house, you braced yourself to see Namjoon for the first time in weeks. 

The minute he walked through the door and saw you, tears were rolling down your face. Neither of you said a word as you ran to each other and crashed into the other’s arms. You didn’t realize how much you missed the sobbing man in your arms until you were both on the floor in a heap of bodies, crying into the other’s shoulder. 

“YN,” he sobbed, “ar-are you actually here?” The sound of disbelief in his voice broke your heart. You could feel he’s lost a bit of weight, and he looked absolutely exhausted when he walked through the door, but the brokenness in his voice is what hurt the most. 

“Oh Joon,” you pulled back from him to look into his tired eyes, “of course I’m here. I never left, not like that.”

He was biting at his lips, tears falling down his face and onto your laps as he nodded. “YN, I’m so sorry,” he says, bringing his hands from around your back and holding both of yours in his own, “I can’t believe I said such mean things to you, and over something so stupid.”

You gently shush him as you rub your thumb against the top of his hand. “It’s okay Joon,” you soothe, “we were both being stupid. You were right, I shouldn’t nag you just because I’m home more often now.”

“Please don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers, “I promise to do better and to make you happy.”

“Me too, Joon, me too.” You stare into each other’s eyes, a silent promise, before your lips are crashing onto his in a passionate kiss. 

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to find you sitting in your car in the parking lot. You locked yourself in there when you decided you were in no shape to drive, crying into your steering wheel at the events that just took place.

Hoseok had coaxed you out of the car after a few minutes and now the two of you were sitting in his recording studio, while he told you about how Jimin had been lectured by their dance teacher, one of the things that gets his self esteem at its lowest points. After the lecture, the members were practicing one of their old choreos that they would be performing at an awards show, only to have Jimin fall multiple times while doing some of the more difficult moves. He was feeling like he wasn’t as good as he used to be, and it had him feeling insecure. Right before you walked into the practice room, him and Hoseok were trying to smooth some kinks out in the routine and he was too frustrated to get them right.

You knew Jimin well, and you knew he was probably feeling terrible about himself, and now probably even worse because of what just happened with you. 

“I’m sorry Hobi,” you said, sniffling softly, “I should have listened to you.”

“No, bub,” he says reaching over and grabbing your hands, “you just wanted to make sure he was okay. None of this is your fault, okay?” You nod your head and let Hoseok’s words sooth you. You’ve been best friends since high school, he always knew how to calm you down. “I’ll go make sure Jimin is calm and I’ll have him come in here. You can have some privacy. You’re both pretty sensitive right now.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to not cry if you spoke. Hoseok takes one last look at you before standing up and going to find Jimin.

You sit on the comfortable leather couch, collecting your thoughts, for what feels like forever, until you hear the code being input on Hoseok’s door. A moment later, you see the soft pink hair of your boyfriend poke around the corner. When he turns to look at you, he’s wearing an almost unreadable expression. You can tell he’s been crying, his eyes are a little red and his cheeks are a bit puffy, but otherwise he looks calm.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks in a small voice.

You nod your head, mirroring his unsure expression. “Of course, Jimin,” you whisper, scooting over slightly to make more room on the couch.

You both sit there staring at the other for a moment, before Jimin speaks, “Can I -”, he starts, before cutting himself off, snapping his lips shut as you raise your eyebrows. He takes a moment to configure his thoughts before he tries again. “I’m sorry, YN,” he mutters, hurt clear in his voice, “can I please touch you?”

Your heart broke at the fact that he felt the need to ask you. His hands were folded politely in his lap, making no effort to reach for you, like you didn’t want him close. Without saying anything, you stand up from your spot on the couch, and plop back down on his lap, shocking him, his hands flying to grasp your waist to steady you. You wrap your arms around his neck in response, placing a soft kiss on his head. He instantly relaxes into you, his hands kneading your sides, head resting on your shoulder as he lets out a deep sigh. You stay like that for a moment until you hear light sniffles and you realize your boyfriend is crying.

Scooting down a bit, you bring your hand around and cup his cheek, “Jimin-ie,” you whisper. 

When he looks up at you he looks so defeated and you decide then and there that you hate that look. If it were up to you, he’d never feel this way ever again. “You’re perfect to me, Jimin,” you whisper, making him scoff, trying to turn his head away from you. You don’t let him, though. “I’m serious. You may not think so, but you are so talented, sweet, and funny. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known and I’m so lucky that you love me.”

He scoffs again, “How can you say that after what I just said to you?”

“Because I love you,” you say simply without hesitation. “I know that you were feeling insecure and anxious. I understand that you need love and acceptance when you feel like that.”

Jimin’s eyes soften at your words, another tear rolling down his cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You chuckle lightly, rubbing your thumb against his cheek, “You were so perfectly you, I couldn’t help but fall in love.”

“I love you, YN,” he sobs into your shoulder, “and I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Jimin-ie,” you stroke his hair, “let’s go home, yeah?” He nods into your shoulder as you place a kiss to his forehead. 

Taehyung has posted himself up outside the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out. He wasn’t going to let this fight last. He wasn’t going to let you think he thought you were anything less than perfect. He couldn’t lose you because of his stupid and reckless mouth.

It’s been an hour since you locked yourself in there. He could hear you run yourself a bath, sit in there for a while, and then heard the tub draining. He hoped you’d be coming out soon, so he leaned his back against the door, resigning himself to sitting there all night if he had to. 

Another 10 minutes go by before you slowly open the door, making Taehyung fall backwards as he reaches out to right himself. You gasp in shock, not realizing he was right there. When he falls through the doorway, you get down on your knees, towel wrapped tightly around your body as you make sure he’s okay. “Tae! Are you okay?” 

Taehyung sighs as he lays flat on his back in the doorway of the bathroom. “Why are you asking me that? I should be the one asking you.” 

Your face falls again at the reminder that he thought you were too caring, too happy, too positive. You spent the entirety of your bath talking yourself into not being so upbeat and chipper around him. To not be so caring and to back off him a little bit. That’s what he wanted, right? He could see the gears turning in your head, so he sits up, leaning back on the palms of his hands. 

“YN, I love you,” he says softly, making you look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I know, Tae,” you say flatly. You didn’t think just because of a silly argument that he didn’t love you. You weren’t that insecure. You just truly didn’t want him to feel suffocated, and obviously that’s how he’s been feeling if he felt the need to blow up like that.

“No, YN. You’re too understanding,” he mentally slaps himself, “no, no. That’s not what I meant. Fuck.”

“I get it Tae, I’m suffocating you. I’m sorry, I will try to back off a little bit. I can do better.” You sit back on the heels of your feet and lean against the door frame, staring into his dark orbs. 

“Oh, princess,” he whispers, sitting up straighter and reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh, “no you aren’t suffocating me. Not at all. I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way.” The look on his face is so sullen, so remorseful that you can feel just how sorry he is from looking into his eyes. “You are the sunshine that lights up my day, the only person who really gets me. You are the sweetest, kindest, most caring human being on the face of this planet, and I’ve never met someone as empathetic as you are. You are literally perfect, and I am so fucking sorry,” his voice cracks a bit as a tear rolls down your cheek at his words, “that I made you think you weren’t. I’m the shittiest partner ever for doing so, and I will spend the rest of my life making you feel wanted and as special as you deserve to feel.”

You’re full blown crying now when you lunge yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck. Sobbing into his shoulder, you nod your head against him. “I love you Tae,” you whimper, “it’s just a silly fight, right?”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you bare back, still slightly sticky from your bath, “No it’s more than that.” He feels you stiffen in his hold, so he starts to soothingly rub his large hand up and down your spine, “This is me realizing how fucking perfect I have it and making sure I never do anything to fuck this up. Never do anything to dim your light, because you are the brightest star in my eyes.”

You pull back to slap a hand lightly against his chest, smiling down at him still sitting on the floor. “Stop being so cheesy,” you mumble. He smiles at you before abruptly standing and picking you up bridal style, making you squeal. “Tae!”

“Mmm,” he moans into your ear as he tosses you on the bed and climbs on top of you, “let me show you what I mean, hmm?”

Jungkook didn’t waste any time running out your apartment door and chasing after you. He had only been gone for a minute or two, there’s no way you could have gotten far. As he walks down the street near your apartment, he calls your phone at least a dozen times, all of them going straight to voicemail. Your phone must be dead.

“Fuck,” shoving his phone back in his pocket. When he looks back up at the sidewalk ahead of him, he realizes he’s near your favorite cafe, the one with the cute Japanese trinkets for decor. Deciding to check to see if you’re there, he makes his way down the street. When he arrives at the cafe, he looks in the large glass window at the customers sitting around the restaurant, but doesn’t see you anywhere. Heaving a sigh, he turns around trying to rack his brain for other places you might’ve gone, when he sees a familiar figure sitting across the street at a bus stop. Squinting his eyes, he sees your sulking form, curled in on yourself.

Without thinking, he rushes to cross the street, only remembering at the last second to look both ways and halting his movements when he hears a car horn honking at him. Clutching at his chest, he backs up and allows the cars to pass before he’s running across the street towards you. 

When he looks back to you, you’re already standing, a bewildered look on your face. 

“Jungkook, are you crazy!?” you yell as he steps up on the curb in front of you. 

“YN-” he pants, trying to catch his breath. His adrenaline was pumping now, but he was also relieved to find you okay. “YN, I -”

“Jungkook!” you cut him off, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

It takes him a moment to realize what you’re talking about, but once he catches on a blush overtakes his face and he has the decency to look sheepish. You were actually a little angry at him for being so careless, but then you think back to the argument the two of you just had, and your anger dissipates into sadness again. Jungkook sees the moment your face falls and reaches out to take your hand in his. When you wince and jerk your hand back, he feels another pang of regret in his chest, realizing you actually were hurt and he let you run out of the apartment without helping you at all. He was such a shit boyfriend. 

Jungkook huffs a breath through his nose as he reaches out carefully, palm up, silently asking for your hand. You oblige reluctantly, knowing he’s trying to help, and place your hand, palm up in his hand. 

“YN, I am so sorry,” he starts, moving closer to you to get a better look at your still bleeding finger,”I’m mad at something Namjoon-hyung and I fought about earlier, and my dumbass took it all out on you. I’m a fucking asshole.” He pulls your hand closer to his face as he talks, inspecting the cut. He saw it earlier, but it only looked like a papercut then. Now that it had bled a little more, he could see it was fairly deep, maybe even deep enough to need a stitch or two. Sighing, he closes his eyes to collect himself before he speaks his next words. “Why are you at the bus stop?” He knows the answer, and braces himself for the impact.

“I- I figured I should probably go to the hospital,” you nibble on your bottom lip, unsure why you felt bad for saying what you had to say, “I didn’t think you’d want to drive me.”

His heart breaks. He moves closer to you, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head. “Oh, YN,” he whispers, remorse dripping in his tone, “I can’t believe I did that. I will always, always be here to help you. I don’t want you to ever feel like I wouldn’t.” He can feel tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he runs a soothing hand up and down your back. 

“I just thought since, you know…” you trail off, letting more tears fall down your face.

“I know, I was an asshole,” he starts, pulling away to look down at you, “let me take you to get that looked at, and we can talk about it on the way, okay? I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t want you to forgive me yet, I don’t deserve it. Just let me make sure you’re okay, first.”

You look up at him, unshed tears welling in his eyes when you nod your head. “Okay,” you whisper, letting him take your uninjured hand in his and walk the couple blocks back towards your apartment. You knew what he did was wrong, but you also knew that he loved you. You loved him, too. Regardless of the fights you may have, and the tough times you experience, you know you will always fight for one another. You look up at him through misty eyes while you walk, he looks back at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A silent exchange letting each other know it would be okay.

[babybluebex]

it takes two [peter parker]

➽ pairing: peter parker x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.0k ➽ summary: an accidental discovery leads peter and you to discuss poly-nylons, tony stark, and aunt may’s burnt meatloaf.   ➽ warnings: awkward teenage feels, fluff, all that good stuff ➽ a/n: nerdy little peter melts my heart uwu. enjoy!

“Hey, Y/N. Y/N!”

I turned to see Peter fumbling with his books, and I extended my arms to catch them. “Hey, Pete,” I chuckled. I looked at one of the books in my hand and saw the official autobiography of tech giant Tony Stark, and I laughed. “We get it, man, you’re in love with Tony Stark.” 

“I’m not,” Peter said quickly. “Just wanna read up on my boss.” 

“Right,” I said with a click of my tongue. “The whole internship thing. That seems like a pretty sweet gig, Pete.”

“It’s…” Peter began and nodded. “It’s alright.”

“What do you actually do?” I asked, placing the biography of Peter’s one true love back on his stack of books. “Do you do paperwork? Or Mr. Stark’s laundry?”

That elicited a laugh out of Peter. Peter Parker and I had been friends for a while, since we were lab partners in eighth grade biology, and I had been one of the first people he told about the internship. As excited as he was to get it, though, he never really talked too much about it. “I do…” He began. “Um… Stuff.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’m asking,” I said, shouldering my backpack. “What kinda stuff?” 

“This and that,” Peter shrugged. “Sorta whatever needs to be done.” 

I nodded slowly. “Uh-huh,” I responded. “Well, since you’re not gonna tell me, I’ll tell you some big news.”

“Sure,” Peter said. “What is it?”

“I got an interview for MIT,” I grinned, and joy overcame Peter’s face. His arms instinctually went out to hug me, but his stack of books went tumbling to the ground around us. He paid it no mind and hugged me tightly anyway, rocking us as he embraced me. Peter gave amazing hugs; that’s one thing nearly everyone can agree on. 

“That’s awesome, Y/N!” Peter exclaimed. “When is it?”

“Friday evening,” I said. “And I’m freaking out really bad. Do you think you could help me prep?”

Peter had already bent down and begun to retrieve his books. “Why me?” He asked. “A-Ask Flash, he’s on the debate team.” 

“Because I don’t want to ask Flash,” I sighed. “I want to ask you. God, Pete, you got an internship with Stark Industries! Why wouldn’t I ask for your help with interviews? I mean, I assume there was an interview process…” 

“Um, sorta,” Peter said. “Yeah, yep, there was.”

My eyes narrowed. “What was that turn around?” I asked. “‘Sorta’ an interview, but also yes?” 

“It wasn’t a, uh, a typical interview,” Peter said. “I met Mr. Stark’s head of security before him.” 

“Wait, hold on!” I cried. “You’ve met Tony Stark?” 

“I told you about this!” Peter smiled. “We went on that company retreat!”

“Th-The one to Berlin?” I asked. “You met Tony freaking Stark in Berlin? How’d I not know this, Peter?”

“I remember telling you,” Peter said. “I missed those days, and I texted you asking about homework, and you told me we had a test and asked how the retreat was, and I said that it was awesome and I met Tony Stark.”

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “But come on, Petey! Please help me prep for this interview, MIT is my dream school!” I grasped his arm and pouted at him, and I said, “For me?” 

Peter rolled his eyes jokingly. “Sure,” He said with a smile, as sincere as always. “Just come by tonight, I’ll get Aunt May to order a pizza or something and we’ll work it out.” 

I hugged Peter tightly. “Thank you!” I giggled. “Hey, save me a seat at lunch, yeah?” 

“Umm, Ned’s brought a few pieces of his Death Star,” Peter began. “It might take up a lot of space.”

“I’ll help,” I said. “If you don’t mind, that is.” 

“S-Sure,” Peter said, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We could use your smaller hands for some of the more intricate parts of the build.” 

“Great,” I said as the bell rang long and high for classes to start. “Crap. I’ll see ya, Pete!” 

The day passed as slowly as any normal school day would. I didn’t have a math club meeting that afternoon on account of our faculty sponsor being sick, so I was able to go home before I went to Peter’s. I gathered all of my MIT stuff from my desk and shoved it into my bag, and I opened my computer for a minute before my mom inevitably made me come to the living room. Twitter was already open (I didn’t pay great attention during last period physics), and I clicked around the trending page for a moment before seeing, at the very bottom of the list of trending topics, something called the “Man-Spider”. It wasn’t being talked about too much, but it was a trending topic in my area; knowing that someone would probably ask about it at school tomorrow, I clicked on it. 

It was a shaky phone video of a man in a blue and red suit on the rooftop of a building that was adjacent to the videographer. “Hey, you’re that Man-Spider from YouTube!” the videographer yelled. 

“Call me Spiderman!” The suited man replied back, his voice echoing around the street. 

“Okay! Do a flip, Spiderman!” 

The so-called Spiderman flipped backwards, eliciting a whoop from the videographer. The video ended there, and I huffed out a quiet laugh. Peter was really into gymnastics; he would like this video. I tagged him, @pparker101, figuring that he would watch it before I got to his place. 

When I finally got myself up and made my way across the borough to Peter and his Aunt May’s apartment, May answered the door. She was a tall and thin woman with long hair that she usually pulled up, and she smiled when she saw me. “Aw, hey, Miss Y/N,” May said. “What’s going on?”

“Peter’s helping me with an interview thing tonight,” I said. “Is that alright?” 

“Oh, sweetheart, of course,” May said, waving her hand around. “Where are you interviewing?” 

“MIT,” I replied. “The actual interview is on Friday, but, since he’s got that internship with Stark Industries, I figured he would help me prepare.” 

“Oh, good job,” May said. “Yeah, Pete popped out to get a sandwich, but you’re welcome to wait for him. Are you hungry? I’m making meatloaf.”

I had known May for long enough to know that it was safest to skip out on the meatloaf. “Oh, I’m alright,” I told her. “I ate before I came.” 

“If you change your mind…” May sang and scrunched her nose at me as she smiled. “Pete said that you helped him and Ned with their Death Star build today; how was that?”

“Pretty great,” I smiled. “It was a lot of pieces and we’re not finished yet, but all working together was pretty sweet.” 

“I bet,” May replied. “All of you are so smart, I could never do that, even with instructions.” 

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see Peter replying to me on Twitter with a simple :). “Thanks, May,” I said. “Um, I think I’m gonna go set up in Peter’s room.”

“Alright, Miss Y/N,” May said and gave me a quick hug. “Have fun.” 

Peter’s room was messy as always, discarded projects all over the place, and laundry piled in the corner of his bottom bunk. I sat down on the edge of the bottom bunk and started to extract my papers and things to practice, but there was a weird sound from behind me. It was quiet and I almost missed it, but the cool breeze that hit my shoulder helped alert me to the fact that the window was open. I turned over my shoulder, expecting to see the widow accidentally unlatched and opening, but instead I saw something completely different: my best friend crawling on the ceiling. 

I couldn’t form words. I wasn’t convinced that I was actually seeing what was happening. Peter was attached upside down to his ceiling, wearing a weird onesie-looking outfit with alternating red and blue panels. He was quiet as he crawled to the other side of the room, and he extended his hand, his middle two fingers and thumb folded into his palm, and a string of white shot from his wrist and attached to the corner of the door. Peter tugged the door closed with ease, as if he had done it before, then he expertly flipped from the ceiling and landed on the carpet with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. His back was to me, but, now that I saw him better, I saw that he wore the exact same outfit that the Man-Spider wore in the Twitter video. 

“Holy shit, are you the Man-Spider?” I cried, and Peter flinched. He turned to me, his face stricken with panic, and I saw a black arachnid symbol in the middle of his chest. “You are! Holy shit, Peter--” 

“Dude, shut up!” Peter hissed quickly. His hand came up to his chest and he pressed on the spider symbol, and the tight suit loosened and fell off of his body. “I-I’m not the Man-Spider--”

“Spiderman!” I recalled from the video. “Peter, what the actual fuck--” 

“Shut up!” Peter pleaded, rushing to me and pressing his hand against my mouth. He was right on top of me, his chest nearly touching mine with each breath, and his dark eyes were wide at me. “Y/N, you… You can’t tell anyone. Please!” 

I shifted my head in order to remove his hand. “Are you serious…” I began. “You’re Spiderman? Wait, how did this happen? Was it the Stark internship, did Tony Stark do this to you?” 

“I’ll explain everything,” Peter whispered. “Just, you really cannot tell anyone.”

“Does May know?” I asked quickly. 

“Are you kidding me?” Peter scoffed. He reached down and grabbed a shirt and began to dress himself; I had noticed that, after the suit came off, he was only in boxers, but I figured that it was better not to say anything. “If she knew, she’d go ballistic.”

I sighed heavily and sat down on the bed once more. “Make this make sense,” I groaned, pressing my head into my hands. “Did this happen to you? Did you make it happen? Is this a Bruce Banner thing?” 

“No,” Peter said quickly, and he sat down next to me. “Look, it’s a really long story, but the basics are that I was bitten by a radioactive spider and now I can do weird things. Like, things I never was able to do before. I’m really strong now, Y/N, and I just… I can do that.” He said and pointed to the ceiling. “But Tony Stark found out about me somehow and he tapped me to help him in some sort of weird fight with him and Captain America. He made me that suit! It’s really cool!”

“It is!” I said quickly. “So, are you, like, an Avenger now? Is that what the Stark internship is?”

Peter paused for a moment, and his cheeks turned pink. “Yeah, I mean…” He started. “Basically, yeah, I’m an Avenger.” 

“Oh my God,” I laughed. “That’s awesome, Peter! But… Why would you keep this from me?” There was no point disguising the hurt in my voice. That was it, plain and simple. “I thought we told each other everything.” 

“We do,” Peter said. “I just… Mr. Stark told me to keep this a secret. He said that anyone who knew could be in danger. I didn’t want you getting hurt.” 

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The secrecy hurt and it wouldn’t stop for a while, but my excitement overshadowed that. “This is super cool, Peter,” I laughed. “So, the thing you just shot, do you-- Like, does your body make that? Like a spider? Was that a web?” 

“Yeah, it’s a web,” Peter smiled widely. “But my body doesn’t make them. That would be super gross.” 

“Sorta, yeah,” I agreed.

“Nah, it’s, uh,” Peter began and rushed over to the forgotten suit on the floor. “It’s a poly-nylon substance that’s loaded in these web shooters that Mr. Stark made me. They’re super strong and take three hours to fully dissolve. They come out of this shooter that I wear on my wrist.” He lifted up the silver web shooter to show me, and I grinned at it. 

“That’s awesome,” I chuckled. “Wait, does Ned know?”

“No,” Peter said quickly.

“MJ?”

“No.”

“Liz? Betty? Flash?”

“You’re the only one,” Peter reiterated. “Nobody else knows. Mr. Stark, Happy, Pepper, everyone at SHIELD, and you. You’re the only outsider.”

“This is…” I began. “This is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but isn’t it dangerous?” 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I mean… Yeah. Everytime I go on a mission, I’m not really sure if I’m coming back.”

I sighed and rubbed my neck. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Petey,” I started. “But I really don’t like this. The idea of my best friend being an Avenger is super cool, but it’s scary as shit. I can’t lose you, Pete. Nobody gets me like you do, and I don’t know what I’d do if you died and I didn’t know why.” 

Peter was quiet as he came back to sit down next to me, his web shooter still in his hand. He toyed with it for a moment, then placed it in my lap. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, Pete, you didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “You were doing what you were told was right. If anything, Tony Stark needs to apologize to me.”

Peter scoffed. “Good luck with that,” he said. “You’re cool. Ya know that?”

“Me?” I chuckled. “You’re freaking Spiderman, dude! You’re cooler than everyone at Midtown! So, is Peter Parker, like, your alter ego? Like Batman?”

“Batman isn’t real,” Peter said pointedly. 

“The point stands, ass,” I said and shoved his shoulder, eliciting a laugh from him.. “By day, you’re a nerdy high school student and, by night, you’re an Avenger?”

“Sorta,” Peter shrugged sheepishly. “I guess, I mean… Not to brag, but--” 

“Brag away!” I said. 

“I’m supposed to be helping you with your interview,” Peter began. “I think maybe we can table this until later. Yeah?”

“Fine,” I said with a pout. “Let me get my stuff…” 

I turned to retrieve my papers and everything that I had brought, and Peter’s hand returned to my lap to grab the web shooter. The fates, though, decided to throw a wrench into our casual moment, because the ajar door burst open to show May. Before I knew what was happening, Peter had shoved the web shooter down between my thighs in an attempt to quickly hide it, and he pressed his lips to mine. I caught on instantly; his hand between my legs only made sense if we were kissing. It was an easy cover up, something to get May out of the room, and-- honestly-- probably something that May had been suspecting all along. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed and backed out of the room, and Peter gave me a tight grimace. I could almost hear him stuttering out an apology. “Sorry, guys! I didn’t mean to--”

“That’s about my luck, huh?” Peter said loudly and laughed. “It’s-- Ah, shit-- Sorry, May!” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” May said from behind the door. Peter pulled the web shooter from between my legs and grabbed his suit, and he shoved them under the blankets behind me. “Don’t let me interrupt... Whatever that was. Peter, please remember to use a--”

“May, hush!” Peter cried, and I saw genuine embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “We’re not-- We weren’t--” 

“We were just kissing, May!” I said quickly. “Nothing else!” 

“Right,” May said. “Have fun. Meatloaf’s burnt, so, if you guys want something to eat, we can get Thai. Or you two can get Thai and I’ll stay here--” 

“May!” Peter groaned. 

“Right, I’ll leave you two alone,” May said, and Peter and I held our breath until we were sure she wasn’t at the door anymore. 

“God, sorry, Y/N,” Peter mumbled, pushing his hair out of his face. “It’s the only thing I could think of--”

“No big,” I said. “But I’m sure May thinks we’re dating now.” 

“She’s thought that since eighth grade,” Peter said and rolled his eyes. “Now she has ‘proof’.” 

“I mean…” I started. Too late to go back now. “I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought of it before.”

“Us dating?” Peter asked. 

“I know you like Liz and MJ, so it’s always been…” I started. “Never mind.” 

“Sure, I like Liz and MJ,” Peter said. “But I like you too. Like, in a different way than I like Liz and MJ.”

“Like, in a girlfriend way?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. He was looking down at his lap, obviously abashed and not wanting to look at me. “You’re really funny and smart, and you’re super pretty… Mr. Stark thinks you’re cute too.” 

“Tony Stark knows about me?” I asked. “He thinks I’m cute?”

“N-Not in a creepy way,” Peter said quickly. “When I went to Berlin, I brought a picture of you in my luggage, and Mr. Stark-- Well, Happy found it and he told Mr. Stark, and he said that you were pretty… Encouraged me to ask you out… Gave me… Ahem, pointers on how to ask you out.” 

“Really?” I grinned. This was amusing to find out. Tony Stark knew who I was. That was almost as cool as finding out my best friend was an Avenger. “What’d he say?”

“Some really gross stuff, to be honest,” Peter chuckled. “Nothing I’d ever say to you, not even jokingly. But… Whatever. Anyway. MIT interview--” 

I leaned in towards Peter and kissed him again, and I felt his smile against my lips. He kissed me back, his arms wrapping around me and tugging me close, and, when the kiss broke, I whispered, “So, does Spiderman have a girlfriend?”

“I’m sure he can get one if he wants to,” Peter said. 

“Does he want to?” I asked. 

“Duh!”

[foulcrownkryptonite]

Tracing Constellations, pt.2

The moment you’ve all been waiting for

Chapter Two: A Clarity

By the early evening, they had made it. Their journey was long and rough, leaving their muscles aching and in desperate need of rest. Ahead was a rather large shack nearly hidden by the towering elms all around it. Jean wasn’t really well versed in architecture, but he remembered one of Armin’s late night ramblings about an ancient style of housing that the cabin-like building resembled. It was a nice, homey looking place. Though it seemed long abandoned with ivy spreading up the walls and leaves camouflaging the roof and scattering the ground. To the east came a loud shushing sound, easily identifiable as a clogged up creek. Bingo.

“Yeah, tell me about it. We’re definitely going to have to stay the night here.” Marco chimed, trying to conceal the excitement that the sentiment brought.

They set the rest of their stuff by the rock-lined fire pit before making their way to the waterside. Water was building up rapidly, overflowing to the sides. Blocking it’s path was a massive oak tree, water only barely trickling over the top.

“Oh shit,” Jean began, rolling up his trousers and stepping in for a closer inspection.

Marco followed suit, yards of thick rope in his grasp. “Luckily it’s fairly hollow.” he called from behind Jean over the sound of water forcibly hitting the log. “The tree itself won’t be too heavy, it’s just stuck. Look there,” he gestured to the base of the tree trapped in the thick walls of the compacted mud. “It’s just trapped. If we attach rope to either side and pull at an angle, perhaps we can free it and get it to the surface.” he concluded with a small, self-satisfied smile, clearly proud of his little assessment. Marco always seemed to take joy in the simplest things, and Jean would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing.

Jean smiled devilishly. “Well done my brilliant friend. Let’s get this started.” Marco gave a dramatic salute before getting to work, tying the rope tightly to one end of the tree. Jean took a nearby stick to dig at the tough mud, aiming to loosen its grip on the tree. Marco noticed and began to do the same. Soon enough, they felt a thudded movement of the tree as water poured in from the sides.

“It’s coming loose!” Marco leapt. “Jean, I’ll drag the rope up my end, you meet me with your end, ok?”

Jean lifted the rope. “Ok, aye aye captain!” he yelped.

With just enough force from Marco’s end and Jean coming to meet him on the same edge of the creek, the water ferociously gushed in, releasing all the built up tension behind the log.

“Alright ready to flip it?!” Jean called out over the rushing water, and was met with a swift, “Yep, heave!” With one last bout of labor, they had gotten the bulky tree over the edge of the water, the makeshift dam no longer able to wreak havoc on their water supply.

And with that, Jean dramatically flung himself into the semi shallow water, the flowing tide steadying to a more constant trickle as it evened out. Marco starred in bafflement before howling with a poorly contained laughter.

“Jean! What on earth are you doing!” he cried between laughs. Jean had that devilish grin on his face again, and Marco knew exactly what was coming - he was next. “Jean, Jean no. Splash me and I will have no choice but to go in and defeat you myself.” he pleaded, threatened, warned, but despite his desperate cries and admonishing face, Jean got closer, arms in position to fire water directly at him.

“I’d like to see you try.” he said menacingly, before pushing a massive wave of water to the surface, full on drenching Marco on the spot.

Oh. This was war.

Marco hurdled into the deepest part of the creek, a battle cry leaving his lips as he shoved a tall wall of water onto the other. Managing to side step his first attack, Jean beamed as his eyebrows furrowed, face contorting to that of a jester.

“Jean, oh my God.” he chuckled, a standoff between the two men putting them at a pause. Jean bent low in the water, soaking his chest.

“Well? Gonna come and get me?” he taunted, smirking his most devilish smile. Marco eagerly leapt at him, arms wrapping around the bulkier man in a wrestle. The two danced in and out of the embrace with Jean finally gaining the upper hand, slamming Marco backwards into the water. Marco let out a small cry, soon to be muffled by the incoming water enveloping the pair.

The two quickly resurfaced, Jean looking more than pleased with his second consecutive win, and Marco coughing and hacking up stream water.

“Oh shit. Marco, I'm sorry, are you ok?”

“I'm-” Marco proceeded to nearly cough up an entire lung, obviously not having been prepared to be body-slammed mercilessly into a deepish body of water.

Jean sloshed his way over to his choking friend patting him on the back hard as if that would somehow help the situation.

“Jea-” cough “It’s fin-” couch “Just sto-”

“It’s not fine, I almost drowned you! Here um I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Jean said in a panic, rushing to stand behind Marco. Of course the Heimlich maneuver wouldn’t do a damned thing to help, but Jean didn’t need to know that, as for Marco’s master plan to work he needed to lull the other into his trap. Now directly behind him, Jean couldn’t see the absolutely devious grin on Marco’s face.

Jean hurriedly wrapped his arms around the other’s torso and before he could start the first compression Marco turned to face him at the speed of light. Confused and a bit startled, Jean froze in place, finally realizing the deep shit he was in once he saw Marco’s lopsided and evil grin.

Fuck. He was tricked. That cheeky little bastard.

“Wait, Marco-”

Before Jean could plead for his life, Marco's hands were already steadfast onto each of his shoulders.

“Now, accept your defeat!” Marco dramatically yelled as he forcefully dunked a yelping Jean under the rushing current. He let out a downright maniacal laugh, still reaching Jean’s ears over the rumbling sound of being dunked into the water.

He grabbed blindly in Marco’s direction, finding what felt to be his shirt and hoisting himself up with a gasp. The quick movement and general unsteadiness of the creek caused him to lose his balance, Marco catching him by the waist before he capsized again. Marco looked at Jean with a satisfied grin, and Jean could only sigh exasperatedly after finally catching his breath.

“Why do people think you're the nice one?”

“What? You started it. All I did was finish it.”

“You’re a demon.”

“Only for you~”

Jean promptly shook the remaining water from his hair, making damn sure it got on the smirking devil in front of him. Marco chuckled at his petty revenge, turning his head to avoid most of the incoming droplets, though not retreating his arms holding Jean upright.

Their impulsive little duel in the water had them both utterly soaked, Marco’s white shirt practically useless as it clung tight and sheer on his body. Of course, Jean had seen his bare arms and chest before but never this close up. Never with said arms still wrapped around his damn waist. They were really no further than a foot away from each other and Jean felt his face heating up as he looked everywhere but Marco’s face. His sun kissed shoulders were speckled with freckles that matched his cheeks and it made Jean want to know just how much of Marco was covered with them.

Whoa.

What?

Back the fuck up.

He did not just think about Marco’s naked body while being held this close in his arms and shit shit shit abort mission. NOW.

Jean rather abruptly shook himself out of Marco’s gentle hold, looking absolutely everywhere but at the man himself. His face was probably bright red with the embarrassing amount of heat radiating off it. He could practically feel the questioning look on Marco’s face but Jean was absolutely not going to let him voice it.

“Hey, you hungry? Let’s uh... get dressed and get some grub, shall we?”

Though it was technically a question, Jean didn’t wait for an answer. He was up and out of the water before Marco could so much as say “polo”.

Jean didn’t walk towards the shed so much as run to it.

The embarrassment and guilt ate at his psyche and all Jean could do to stop it was just pretend it wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to make things awkward for the rest of the night because he was… Imaging his best friend naked? In a not so dude-bro way? No. No, he hadn’t assured that yet. He was only thinking about his friend’s freckles… And there was nothing inherently inappropriate about that. Right. Jean was fine. Marco was fine. Everything was fine.

He decided to go with that explanation for now.

Jean dressed in the shed first, putting on what sort of resembled sleepwear before hanging his soaked clothes to dry over a tree limb. Marco did so next, coming out of the shed dressed in plain brown pants and a thick white tunic that hung low, exposing a part of his dotted chest. Jean tried not to notice, really, he did, but it was hard. For some inexplicable reason, he was drawn to it.

Seeing the sun begin to set, Marco took initiative and got a head start on a fire in the pit yards away from the shed. Jean dug through the bags to grab food, sheepishly bringing it over to Marco at the fire pit.

“It’s uh just wrapped rations, nothing special.” Jean explained, handing the sitting man a packet.

“Thanks Je-” Marco began before a scream escaped Jean’s lips,

“But I snuck BOOOOOOZE!” he exclaimed, holding out a bottle of hard liquor. Marco’s mouth flew open.

“You sneaky bastard!” Marco teased, causing Jean to stick his tongue out playfully.

“I know, you love it” Jean said, sitting cross legged not but a palms length away from Marco.

The sun quickly fell behind the mountainside, leaving a distant dim glow as the crackling fire took its place as the center source of light. The smell of wood burning and the trickling sound of fresh water reminded Jean of how much he missed simply just enjoying the outdoors.

“Yknow,” Marco began as Jean opened the bottle and took a swig. “I’ve never been camping before.” Jean raised his eyebrows in disbelief, handing him the bottle.

“This is news to me, you sure know how to navigate in the wilderness!” Marco chuckled, taking a swig.

“Guess you can teach me a thing or two more,” he winked. Jean stirred, his hands finding stability only when the bottle was passed back to him. Jeez Marco had no right looking so-

“Well then, a toast!” he exclaimed perhaps a bit too loudly.

Marco looked at him quizzically. “Hah, to what?” Us he wanted to say, almost feeling the word slip off his tongue before correcting it.

“To Marco’s first night outdoors!” He held the bottle up in triumph, taking a large swig before handing it back to Marco, who did the same. They laughed heartily at the sentiment before settling to let the booze make its effect on their minds and bodies.

The moon’s soft white luster shone down onto the pair, reflecting off the fracturing water of the now ever-flowing stream. Broken images of adjacent trees appeared as inky veins dancing upon the water’s surface, nearly as mesmerizing of a sight as were the blinking flames in front of them. For a short while, there was a tranquil sort of silence. The soft sounds of a forested night; a lullaby, as Jean and Marco simply sat there, existing together under the dull shine of the stars.

The crackling heat of the fire provided ample warmth and light, allowing Jean an inviting gaze toward his companion's calmed face, eyelids shut softly as he enjoyed the slight chilly breeze. Jean let his eyes scan down the expanse of Marco’s figure, stopping at his toned, freckle-peppered arms. For reasons he could not decipher, Marco’s freckles enveloped his mind. Unbeknownst to Jean, he reached out to touch them, tracing shapes and constellations into the dots adorning Marco’s arm.

Marco startled a bit at the sudden touch, though upon seeing Jean’s peaceful, zoned out state, made no turn to move. His heart stammered in his chest, the light tracing of Jean's thumb on his arm spreading chills throughout his entire body. His mind abandoned any rational thought as he watched, rather felt Jean’s pointer finger and thumb gingerly dance across his skin. It was such a gentle gesture, one Marco hadn’t seen Jean ever perform. As his feather-light touch ran ever so slightly higher, Marco couldn’t hold back a twitch, halting Jean in his place. What on earth was he doing? Jean yanked his hand back close to his chest and averted his gaze back to the trees, the creek, the shack, hell anything but Marco.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled under his breath, just barely audible over the steady whooshing of running water. For the second time that night Jean’s face felt hotter than hell itself.

“It’s okay,” Marco whispered back, looking over at his now abashed friend. “I… don’t mind.” he finished and Jean glanced up, dilated eyes looking up through his lashes, not knowing what that response meant.

“Listen, Jean, I-” Marco began, liquid courage pushing him almost as hard as Ymir’s words the previous night. Jean crossed his arms in front of his chest, uncomfortable and otherwise unmoving as he took in Marco’s increasingly anxious behavior. “Fuck it, I just- Gah.” he swore, bringing his hands to grab nervously at his reddening face. Jean shivered, though he doubted it was due to the chilling air. What was the matter? Was it him? Did he make him uncomfortable?

Assuming that was certainly the case, Jean tugged in his legs close to his chest, demeanor physically decreasing. “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have.... Was weird. I-” he was silenced by Marco’s fingertips resting on his knee in an action of reassurance.

“I liked it.” he hurriedly quipped, before his eyes widened and his cheeks grew a more prominent crimson. Marco turned away and looked off into the fire, seeming to contemplate something, though his hand stayed placed atop his knee. If Jean was being completely honest with himself, he was terrified. Terrified of himself, of fucking everything up, of how nice it felt to be touched like this…

Despite being a self-proclaimed womanizer, Jean was often untouched, making the sensation of Marco’s fingers upon his knee amplified and probably more intimate than was intended. But still, he longed for more, so much more. His mind went foggy as he tried to decipher what this all meant, what this entire night had ment. His skin felt hot as he took a deep breath, looking at Marco with equal amounts of concern and desire.

The want to always be close by to him, the walls of confidence and arrogance that seemed to falter and collapse when with him, the unjustifiable jealousy towards Ymir who had only just became close-ish to him, his obsession with seeing him laugh, seeing him happy, seeing him prattle on about his childish feather collection and seeing those freckles and that damned smile: it was all leading towards the same answer, an answer Jean didn’t know he was ready to fully confront.

Marco was still facing the dwindling fire, a heavy look weighing his features down. Unsure of what to do, but knowing he ought to do something, he rested a hand atop Marcos. He turned away from the smoldering coals to look Jean in the eyes, features flashing a whole myriad of emotions Jean couldn’t even begin to decipher. The tension between them grew as they both stared at one another, neither of them knowing how to proceed.

As if God Herself had had enough of the two’s back and forth antics, a downpour of rain started to fall from the darkened sky. Feeling the icy drops of water on his skin, Marco instinctively let Jean go, making his way up and off the now dampening ground.

“Ah shit, looks like the storm followed us here.” Marco awkwardly blurted, the contrast of the casual line with the previously tense staredown like chalk against a blackboard, finally breaking the impenetrable silence. Marco turned to start towards the shed, though when Jean didn’t follow, he threw him a worried glance. Jean knew he had to go in - this type of rain only meant bad news to come and it wasn’t like he wanted to ruin another pair of clothes... But something was stopping him. He was nervous. Nervous of the fire in Marcos eyes yet realizing he wanted it more than anything.

Seeing Jean unmoving as rain drenched his body, Marco bit his lips nervously, swimming with his own uncertainties and nerves from it all.

“Jean…?” he re-approached calmly, voice cautious as if approaching some sort of wild animal. The air grew colder and wetter as the winds picked up, Jean’s mumbled response rendered inaudible as he shook in the frigid air. He slowly stood, still fixating on the ground as the two made their way inside.

…

It seemed like this untouchable silence was to follow them inside as well.

The two men stood face to face in that rustic styled living room, Marco leaning against the east most wall and Jean standing limp by the door, neither sure if they had the courage to initiate what they both so desperately wanted. Marco looked at him with practically every traceable emotion etched onto his features. Jean could feel his remaining walls starting to chip away, a long running crack threatening to crumble the blockade into an unidentifiable nothing. Fine. He knows what he’s got to do.

A second of contemplation later and finally, it crumbles.

Jean makes his way over to the other, wordlessly and with his brain running damn miles a minute. Marco let out a shaky breath as Jean continued to step towards the other, stopping just a footstep in front of him. He looked a bit startled, though not afraid. If anything, Jean would say Marco looked… hopeful? Relieved? He reached out, hand grazing Marco’s hair as he settled it onto the wall behind him, leaning closer still. Marco was essentially trapped between the wood wall flush against his back and Jean, enclosing arm, yet he still did not look uncomfortable.

He had already made it this far… It was too late to chicken out right? Last minute thoughts raced in Jean’s mind as Marco's eyes looked up into his from wherever they were set before. His gaze was intense, his eyes aflame with a fire Jean had never seen in the other before. Now he wasn’t necessarily great with feelings and general social awareness, but looking into those fire orbs Jean saw nothing that said ‘Stop’

And so Jean said ‘Fuck it’

Jean finally closed the remaining space between them, lips meeting lips and- oh. OH. Jean’s body ignited with a sense of overwhelming intensity and desperation, the long awaited action of this sending his mind into overdrive. He was kissing Marco. Marco was kissing him. Marco didn’t hesitate to cup his jaw, Jean leaning into the touch before grabbing onto his arm. His other hand slid down from the base of the wall to slink around his waist, pulling the goddamned beautiful man closer.

Marco took initiative in deepening the kiss, eliciting unexpected hum from Jean’s lips. He let his other hand fall to meet Marcos waist, wanting nothing more than to graze his heated skin underneath the damp cloth, though Jean pulled back for a second, allowing room for retaliation or, possibly, resentment.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

Marco nodded, fingers toying with the man's wet hair. “It’s more than okay.” he replied before Jean resumed his actions, lips meeting his with urgency. If it didn’t feel real at first, it sure as hell felt real now, and Jean was soaring.

It was sudden when Marco pulled back, hands moving to graze up and down Jean’s chest. Jean looked at him with nothing but fondness and ease, all his barriers down for him and him alone in this moment. Marco looked in his arms, skin burning with heat and eyes flaring with longing.

“Well…” Marco chuckled nervously, and Jean grinned. “This is unexpected,” Marco finished his sentence in a hush whisper.

Jean bit his tongue, more worried about this reaction than he had expected. “In a… good way?” he asked as anxiety crept its way into his slightly shaking hands. Marco put his forehead to his, getting a better look into his eyes. “You tell me,” he taunted.

Jean’s features took a turn for the serious, as he softly rocked his forehead against Marco’s. “Marco…” he began, the tone of his voice causing the said man to tremble slightly. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this... with you.” As Marco peered through the darkened wet strands of Jean’s hair, he saw his eyes were glistening. Tears. Jean was crying. Unable to spit even a syllable out in return, Marco simply brushed his lips against his in a kiss. This time, it was Jean who returned the action with haste. Marco cupped his cheeks and felt their fresh tears mixed with warm flesh as they kissed once again, this time, with mutual cognizance.

Jean began laughing between kisses, almost unable to comprehend what was happening. He hadn’t realized how damaging it had been trying to ignore his feelings for Marco, nor how euphoric it would feel to finally acknowledge them. Marco pushed him back impishly and Jean caught his near-fall before grabbing Marco’s hand and holding it in his own.

“Is this real…?” Marco asked mindlessly, focusing entirely on their hands entangling as Jean rubbed his thumb over his forefinger.

“It better fucking be,” Jean half-joked. “'Cus if it’s a dream, please don’t ever wake me up” he concluded, studying Marco’s lightly speckled skin in the little light the shack provided.

“Hug me, please” Marco hushed, embarrassed at the question despite having kissed the man already. Jean flushed, the demand sending chills down his spine and making something in the pit of his stomach flip. Without a word, Jean snaked his arms around him, Marco hesitantly leaning his head on Jean’s broad shoulder. It was an apprehensive embrace at first, as if they still were somewhat afraid this was some kind of prank. He held him, too, and Marco’s hands were tangled around his neck. After a moment of comforting solace, it seemed Marco had finally realized that yes, this was in fact real. “Thank you.” he muffled into the crook of his neck.

Jean smiled, placing a small kiss to the top of his head. “No, thank you,” he said.

“Why?” Marco chuckled. Jean stroked his back, stepping somehow even closer in the embrace.

“Because you’re the most beautiful fuckin’ man I’ve ever laid eyes on…” he worded earnestly. Marco giggled cutely and placed a gentle kiss to his neck, nearly eliciting an embarrassing gasp from Jean.

“Says Jean fucking Kirstein.” he emphasized, kissing his neck again. Jean flushed furiously. He was seriously going to die.

“Mhph- don’t tease me, Bodt” he bit, forcing Marco’s head up as he collided with his lips again. Marco’s eyes widened as their bodies hit the wall, hands once more exploring and teasing through clothes.

Jean hiked his hands up Marco’s shirt, feeling his hot torso beneath as he thumbed the outline of his toned chest. Marco rutted against him, his hands moving to his hips in an attempt to bring him closer. “Ah-“ Jean hitched, his breath wavering as their clothed bodies rubbed against each other. Kisses deepened and tongues grazed curiously. All that could be heard in the little shack made for two were breathy moans and wanton grasps as the night took a physically fervent direction.

__________

Jean woke up in a daze, last night barely able to find its way back into his mind as his eyesight adjusted to the morning light. He shifted slightly before noticing Marco lying naked on his chest, hand snaked behind his head.

A smile easily spread over his tired face as the shining sun was proof the evening they shared wasn’t a dream or another figment of his imagination. It was real, and he treasured the feeling of Marco’s soft skin touching his. Careful to not wake him, he shyly traced false patterns on his speckled shoulder, elated at the prospect that he could just do that now.

A slight gust of cool wind slithered under the door and into the room, making Marco shiver slightly in his sleep. Jean pulled the fleece blanket to better cover the both of them as he continued to swipe his fingers across his skin. But it was too late, as Marco had already opened his pretty brown eyes.

Not being near awake enough to communicate, he entangled himself with Jean’s body as he reveled in the feeling of his skin being touched. Jean took this as full confidence there was no regret concerning what had happened and he kissed his forehead, hand ever so softly tickling his back.

Marco hummed, smiling into his touch as he slowly eased awake. He moved his head further into Jean’s chest, peppering him with small kisses as both of their quickening heart beats thumped against one another. Jean’s comforting touch faltered slightly, not being able to focus on much of anything other than the soft lips against his chest. Noticing this, Marco lifted his head up to be eye-level with him.

“Hi,” he grumbled cutely, voice deep and ridden with sleep.

“Hi,” Jean grumbled back, reaching slightly to place a quick kiss on Marco’s nose. They admired each other's sweat-lined skin before Jean spoke up again. “So,” he gulped, and Marco let out a low, grovely chuckle.

“We fucked and now you can barely look me in the eyes?” Jean went bright red. Hearing Marco’s joking tone and following chuckle didn’t lessen the effect this sentence had on him.

“I- sorry. Just never-” he began, and Marco placed his fingers on the man's chin.

“Me neither.” he confirmed, letting out a shaky breath.

Jean swung his thigh over Marco’s in a desperate attempt to get even closer - a clear sign to Marco that he was content with their situation. He snuggled closer, the blanket enveloping the both of them from the cool winds.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed.

Marco’s sun-kissed cheeks went pink, those words being uttered to him by Jean only ever being a part of his late night fantasies.

“Of course,” he managed, and Jean obliged, leathery lips kissing him in a delicate action of reverence.

“Jean,” Marco began, breaking the kiss. “Before anything… y'know. I have to know your feelings on, this, I guess. I’m not- I can’t just leave until I have absolute clarification. Listen, if this was just a one-off, I understand, but-”

Marco was silenced by Jean using his thigh to maneuver himself on top, resting atop the man before answering his plea. “I don’t want this to be a one-off, Marco. Believe me, last night was a blast, but you need to understand it’s you that has me smitten - you who has me wanting to stay in this stupid shack forever. And for some goddamn reason, you fuckin like me just as much as I like you.” he answered wholeheartedly. Marco opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Jean continued on. “Fuck, what I’m trying to say is it wasn’t the alcohol or anything that led to last night. Marco, I kissed you because for a long time now, I knew I didn’t want to be friends. And… being alone with you it just - it opened that up for me and-”

His words caught in his throat as Marco used his same technique to hoister himself on top. He smiled from ear to ear, a sight Jean couldn’t get enough of. “If at any point in time you would’ve made a move, I’d’ve been yours. That talk I had with Ymir? It was about you. Jean, if you’re serious, I need a definitive-”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, let me rephrase: fuck yes”

Marco could’ve squealed, elation running through his veins as he watched Jean’s equally giddy reaction. He adored Jean, his bluntness, sarcasm, and tender heart. Not everyone knew of Jean’s warm heart, they hadn’t given the jock the chance. But Marco did, and to Jean, that’s all that mattered. They kissed for the thousandth time before laying back down in a fervent embrace, both knowing they had to get up and head back to camp soon but neither making the move to do so.

Eventually, and begrudgingly, they got up. A little cleanup and packing was done before they got fully dressed, ready to make the trip back. “We still have several hours,” Marco pointed out as he slipped his backpack on.

Jean grinned. “Yeah?”

Marco nodded. “We could… if you wanted to, hold hands?” he finished. Jean blushed despite how juvenile it may have seemed as he took Marco’s hand in his, giving a light squeeze of assurance.

“You never have to ask to hold my hand,” he chuckled.

A few hours had passed as the overcast sky seemed somehow even brighter than usual, their spirits beyond content with themselves and the world around them. Jean looked at Marco as their hands stuck like glue, neither daring to let go. Overwhelmed with adoration of the man next to him, Jean snaked his hand behind his waist, pulling him close. Marco stopped out of surprise, returning the action and turning his head to kiss him.

“Fuck you,” he snipped as he smiled. Jean played with his hair.

“You already did.” he quipped, causing Marco’s face to glow a bright red.

“I- ah-” he stammered as Jean kissed him again.

“I don’t ever want to go back,” Jean whispered, resting his head on the man's shoulder as they slowly began to pick up the pace again. Marco rubbed Jean’s back lovingly as they stayed conjoined at the hip.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll find time to sneak around. Especially at night”. Jean closed his eyes for a moment, imagining several nights of being close to him before waking up the next day to have it be their own little secret. That was okay by him, and by Marco too.

It was nearly nightfall when the pair had finally made it back, the sleeping quarters seen just ahead in the distance, lit by the torches lining the paths. They sighed, letting go of each other as they attempted to keep some semblance of normality of who they were before.

A hacking noise was heard, and Marco whipped his head to the side to see Ymir chopping wood. “Ymir?! What are you doing out so late?” Marco gasped. Ymir got up, striding toward them as she spoke. “Dumbasses back there are bickering. I’d rather be out here in order to avoid a headache.” she said flatly. Jean could only nod, as he had no idea what to say in reply.

“Fair enough,” Marco said nervously, watching as she crept closer to Jean. She pulled down the collar of his shirt and smirked.

“Ah Marco, it seems you finally learned how to ride horses.” she quipped. Jean nearly died right there on the campground and Marco let a hand shoot up to cover his mouth in surprise.

“Ymir!” he exclaimed before laughing out of embarrassment and defeat. She cackled before resting an arm on his shoulder, eyeing Jean’s absolutely horrified expression. “I’m proud of you, really. It was about time something was done about you two.”

Jean straightened out, a hand covering half of his face.”You… oh shit. You won't-”

“Tell anyone?” She finished, cutting through the bullshit. “No, ‘course not. That’s up to the two of you.” she smiled, calming the boys down.

Marco looked at her with a gentle gratitude. “Ymir, thank you. But… How do we keep this from everyone else? I just- I’m not ready. Jean isn’t ready.” he suggested before looking to Jean who was nodding furiously in confirmation. Ymir put her hand to her chin in momentary contemplation.

“Look, I’m not telling you all my secrets. But I can give a few. For now though I’ll just say this: if Christa and I can get away with it, so can you two knuckleheads.”

Jean’s eyes widened. So many bombshells in one evening. Ymir and Christa? Together? Thinking of it now, he wasn’t that surprised, but the sudden admittance of it caught him off guard. “Wow” is all he could muster before Marco tenderly put his head on his shoulder, making his face flush a light pink.

Seeing this, Ymir couldn’t help but grin. They were cute, and she unfortunately had to concede to that. “Well, I’m turning in for the night-” she began as Marco brought her in for a hug, interrupting her goodbyes.

“Thank you Ymir, really” he whispered. She patted his back. “Anytime man.” she concluded before breaking the hug to turn back. “Sleep tight!” she winked, and Marco looked back at a flushing Jean.

“How do you feel?” he questioned, unable to read Jean’s expression.

He ruffled Marco’s hair. “Good,” he said. “Really good”. He cupped Marco’s cheek and leaned in to meet his forehead. They breathed in the warmth of each other before pulling back, knowing they had to actually go back this time. “Meet me in my room, twenty minutes.” Jean hushed, and Marco bit his cheek.

“Fifteen” he quipped, jogging off to report their mission.

“Deal.”

[jinkicake]

You Call Him Daddy?!

You accidentally call him daddy in front of the team.

Terushima Yuuji x Reader

Hi Anon~ Thanks again for requesting this!! I was so excited to write this one!!! I couldn’t just write one smutty scene,,,, I had to add in another.... Come on, it’s Terushima... You know I can’t help myself.... Wow,,, if the haikyuu boys were real I would sooo run to him with open arms because he seems like he would break my heart~~~

SMUT / NSFW 

WC- 1,484

~~~

Terushima Yuuji x Reader

Ever since the first You Call Him Daddy I wrote I always thought about how well it would fit Terushima. You know,,,, bruh,,,, this dude……. Pls since the first time I saw him on screen I was hooked, GAWD that piercing sends me into orbit omg I need to shut up 

He would be soooo shameless like he would not care at all if people heard you calling him daddy, he would have that big ass grin on his face and would look around all proudly like yeah, you heard that correctly 

And then Bobata and Futamata are like…… SMACK CAM and smack him upside the head HAHHA anyway......

It would be a lie to say you don’t know how you found yourself in the storage closet with Terushima

What went from innocent touches from your boyfriend, his fingers drawing nameless shapes into your wrist, turned into him grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the closet

“Babe, there are no classes for the rest of the day in the gym” He had convinced you and, like a fool, you decided to ditch study hall and get your guys rearranged

However what you didn’t take into account and stupidly failed to remember is that any sort of sexual intercourse with Terushima Yuuji is not quick, he will have you bent for at least two hours

Not that realistic but come on, bitches </3, it’s Terushima let me dream

“Yuuji” You moan quietly and tightly grip the wall as Terushima pounds into you, he has one of your legs draped over his arm as you’re pinned against the wall

Through your heavily lust clouded mind you swore you heard the final bell ring and that instantly clears you head

“Ah, Yuuji, the last bell just rang!” You tell him, your eyes filled with worry because in ten minutes the entire gym will be filled with volleyball and basketball players “We don’t have time to finish!”

Terushima pouts and stills inside of you, you can’t help the way you clench around his aching length at the feeling. The sensation makes your boyfriend groan and he leans over top of you, resting his forehead on your shoulder 

“You sure you don’t want to finish,” He teases and you can’t imagine feeling so empty if he does decide to pull out

“You have five minutes.” Your warning flies over Terushjima’s head and he quickly goes back to pounding into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your own echos throughout the tiny closet 

What you didn’t know is that the bell you heard was the ‘late bell’ meaning it occurred five minutes after the final bell rang,,,, you failed to hear the first bell

“Daddy, shit,” You curse as you cum and Terushima releases his own loud groan at your words, emptying inside of you much to your dismay. “You ass! I told you not to cum inside of me!” You yell in a hushed whisper and Terushima shrugs

“I couldn’t help it, you’re so hot, babe.” He smooths over and you smack him with your skirt, Terushima whines at the impact but then notices the way your legs are still shaking

Like the caring boyfriend he is, Terushima leans down and helps pull your panties back up your legs, making sure to push his cum back inside of you before securing your panties over your dripping cunt. He lightly pats your slit and you scrunch your nose in frustration at him, Terushima then pulls up your skirt and makes sure to leave a few kisses on your thighs as he zips up the material

By now, you’re fully dressed and Terushima is lazily throwing on his practice shirt. Timidly you hide behind the door and try to listen outside, much to your relief you don’t hear anybody or anything

You open the door slightly and screech when you see not only your friend but two of Terushima’s…… you slam the door shut and turn to your boyfriend and stomp your foot as you point at the door

“What?” He asks and you tell him you saw both of your friends, “ah, let daddy take care of it” He whispers and you smack his head again

“They’re right outside you idiot!!!” You whisper and Terushima kisses your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he steps in front of you and opens the door again. Terushima leans against the door frame and just opens it enough so that only he can be seen

“Hey,” He subtly nods to his friends and Misaki, his manager only shakes her head disappointedly 

“Nice shirt, fuckface” Bobata snorts and Terushima looks down to see his shirt is on backward

“Yeah, it’s a new trend these days and clearly you haven’t heard about it.” He teases his friend and Futamata has to hold back Bobata from slapping their friend

“I was wondering where (Y/N) was last period...” Misaki speaks with her voice full of suspicion and you awkwardly grab a hold onto your boyfriend’s shirt, anxiously pulling at the material 

“We were studying” Terushima answers confidently “It was a free period”

“Studying?” Misaki raises an eyebrow and the captain nods arrogantly 

“Yup”

“And what were you studying? You two aren’t even in the same class?” His manager continues to push and Terushima does not miss a beat with his answer

“Anatomy” You could practically feel everyone’s groan 

“Well if (Y/N) is done calling you daddy, tell her that I need her help picking out an outfit for the date I have this weekend.” Your friend says loudly and you push your boyfriend out of the door frame to run up to her

“You have a date this weekend?!” You ask and she nods excitedly, grabbing your wrist and dragging you back to her classroom “Tell me about it!!!!”

Terushima stands there in front of his friends and bites his lip, nodding silently at the entire scenario 

Bobata and Futamata glance at each other before raising their hands to slap their friend upside the head, leaving Terushima to grip his dyed hair tightly

“Come on, let’s go get ready for practice” Futamata grabs Terushima by the collar of his shirt and drags him towards the locker room, he doesn’t once bring up the daddy incident

“D-Daddy!” You whine and toss your head back against the pillow, you arch your back so strongly as you press your ass into the sheets that you feel your spine snap in the stretch. Terushima simply glances up at you, keeping your thighs apart as he holds your hands, looping his fingers together with yours. His warm tongue licks a broad stip up your clit just to tease you before going back down to your slit. 

Terushima devours you, he sticks his tongue deep inside you and massages your walls while making a point to swallow everything. He mouths back up to your clit and sucks the little pearl between his lips, ruining it with that sinful tongue piercing of his. The cool texture of the metal contrasts so differently from his hot mouth and the combination of the two makes you grind your hips harder against his face. 

“Look at you, squirming all over my face. You’re fucking delicious.” Terushima praises and lets go of one of your hands, bringing two of his long fingers up to your entrance. He goes back to sucking on your clit and thrusts his fingers into you at the same time, he curls his digits and lets the pads of his fingers run along your walls. It doesn’t take long for Terushima to find that familiar spongey spot inside of you, when he moans at the sight of you looking so fucked out you feel the vibrations run up your spine. “I want you to fucking squirt for me.” He curses and you shut your eyes painfully, feeling so overwhelmed by everything he is doing. 

Terushima removes his mouth from your soaked pussy and bites down on your inner thigh, making sure to leave a mark. 

“Keep your eyes open for Daddy, watch it all.” He orders and you nod, staring with a dark gaze as his dyed hair dips back between your thighs. 

It never takes long for you to come undone when Terushima is touching you like this, skillfully curling his fingers and giving your clit all his attention. That familiar sensation washes over you and your chest heaves in a deep breath as you fail to produce any words. 

“That’s it, oh shit,” Terushima watches in amazement as you squirt all over his fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. He uses his other hand, with three fingers, to rub your clit back and forth while letting your essence spill out everywhere. 

You close your eyes as you feel him pull his fingers out of you, gentle and slowly in a way that won’t hurt. Terushima sucks his fingers into his mouth and you want to smack his head for being so loud. 

“On your knees now baby girl, Daddy wants to see that again."

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder

[harryspet]

obedience | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark bucky barnes x named oc, murder, and violence, non/dubcon oral and vaginal, outdoor sex, kidnapping, p/e/t play elements, bad google translate, implied agegap, mater/pet, lots of buildup, Stockholm syndrome(?)

A/N: I’ve been writing a bunch of Peter and Harry and kind of wanted to take a little break! This pretty much post endgame bucky. Sorry for any story inaccuracies! TRIGGER CONTENT AHEAD SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which Bucky kills her family of former Hydra members before taking her home as his pet.

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.4k

Sam wanted him to let things go. Move on and focus on something else, he said. Sam thought it would be impossible to find any of them since it had been years since they were active members. The snap had given them a big enough distraction to escape. Bucky didn’t think it was fair that they could just disappear, change their names, and get to live another day after the destruction they had caused. 

Accept, they couldn’t stay hidden for long. It took months but Bucky finally tracked the small family to Manhattan. The German immigrants thought they could hide within the millions of citizens in the New York borough. They made several mistakes though only because they couldn’t get rid of the luxury they were used to. The daughter had a driver and bodyguard that took her to and from her private school. 

Bucky had cyberstalked her through her Instagram. The eighteen-year-old Senior posted a lot under the alias, Mina, that her parents had most likely given her. The Vogt family had turned into the Bradford’s of Manhattan’s elite class. The daughter didn’t go anywhere without her bodyguard, at least, that’s what her parents thought. Bucky noticed how she snuck out on Friday’s at the same time every week. 

How reckless could she be? Her parents are on the most wanted list in eight different countries. Teenage love was the only answer. Bucky saw the boy she met up with, a poor rockstar type, that gave her that rush of dopamine she desperately needed. 

Poor little rich girl.

Bucky purposely bumped into her while the couple was waiting for the subway, “Watch where you’re going, dude,” The boy spoke in a thick Queens accent. Her purse dropped and, because Bucky was dressed like a respectable man of society, the girl let him pick it up and hand it back to her. Their eyes met for a long moment and Bucky thought for a moment she was lost in his blue eyes. 

“Sorry about that, you two have a goodnight,” Bucky faked a smile as he walked away, tucking the girl’s apartment key into his coat. 

“Old creep, he was definitely checking you out,” Bucky heard as he walked away, a stoic look of determination on his face. 

+

Mina woke up frightened. She panted, looking around in the dark for the monster that was in her nightmare. Those striking blue eyes looked into the depths of her soul. Brandon had said the man was checking her out but he didn’t see what she saw. Hate. That man didn’t even know her and yet he hated her. 

Looking out the window across the room, Mina could clearly see the lights of the Manhattan Bridge. When they first moved here, her mother promised she would have an even better view than the master bedroom. They were still trying to get her to not be so upset about the move. Mina pulled back the fabric of her heavy duvet and decided she’d go downstairs to get some water. Her bare feet padded across the white carpet and she opened the doors that led into the hallway. 

As she walked down the hall, someone appeared around the corner, “What are you doing up so late, Miss Mina?” The maid asked, her hands full of towels that she was carrying to the linen closet. 

The maid looked over her, sweaty with tangled hair, clad in her polka-dotted robe and nightgown, “Just getting some water. I had a bad dream.”

The maid held out her hand, urging her to stop, “I can bring you some warm milk and cookies, you should go back to your room,” Something changed in the older woman’s eyes. If Mina wasn’t so tired, she might’ve thought the maid was warning her.

 “It’s okay,” Mina insisted, stepping forward, “You work too much-”

Before Mina could even step forward, the maid collapsed on her side. Blood splattered against the wall and Mina thought she saw pieces of her brain. A bullet had come from down the hall Mina was about to turn on to. Mina covered her mouth, backing away, as the man from the subway stepped around the corner. 

No mask. He didn’t plan on letting her leave alive.

Mina hurried backward, towards her room, but the man took off after her. As her fingers curled around the door handle, she felt metal wrap around her upper arm. She screamed loud, a piercing scream even louder than the gunshot, as she struggled against him. 

The man didn’t speak, just pressed the long tipped gun against the side of her head, “P-Please, please, don’t kill me,” She stuttered out, shutting her eyes shut tight, “Please!”

“Scream one more time and I’ll kill you,” The man jerked her away from the door. The man pulled her back towards the maid’s dead body and down the hall, he came from. Mina’s knees were so weak that she was struggling to walk beside him. She let out a whimper as she was forced to step over the maid’s body. 

“W-Why are you doing this?”

It couldn’t be because of the rude thing Brandon said, right? This was too insane for that. 

He had killed someone. Killed. 

The man dragged her into the room she knew as her father’s office. And despite the man’s order, Mina screamed again. Her mother was bleeding from her abdomen, laying flat on the old rug in front of his desk. The man let go of her arm and Mina ran to her. 

He killed her mother. 

As Mina touched her mother, she realized there was no life left in her. 

Her father was still alive, just bent over and handcuffed to his coffee table, “sie ist tot,” She heard her father say, his thick German accent coming through, “She’s dead. Thank the Winter Soldier for that.”

Mina looked up at the man standing over them, her face covered in tears, “Papa?” Her lips trembling, “W-What’s happening?”

Her father didn’t answer as he looked down, talking to himself, “Mashina. Belyy. Doroga. Svecha. Nebo …” He was spouting off random words in Russian and her anger and frustration only grew. 

The man stepped forward, slamming her father’s head into the table, “I’m not your puppet anymore, Vogt,” Her father laughed, blood dripping down his face. 

“I like your new haircut, Winter Soldier,” Her father teased which only resulted in a punch across the face, “It suits you.” 

“Papa!” She shouted to him, wanting him to stop antagonizing. His wife was dead and his daughter was at gunpoint yet he was teasing the man?  “Please stop hurting him!”

The man finally looked at her, “Your daughter is beautiful, Frank. Is that what you get when you make them in labs?”

Frank? That was not her father’s name. 

“What is it that you want? Money? Being Captain America’s best friend not pay much?”

+

Bucky tried not to show any emotion but becoming Bucky instead of Winter Soldier had its problems. He was still getting used to showing emotion. 

“I want you dead. For every single death that you cause. For the years of my life that you stole.”

Frank shook his head, “Don’t give me the bad guy/good guy spiel. Name your price, Barnes.”

Bucky scowled, tucking away his gun, “What if I said I wanted your daughter?” The girl's eyes widened, still holding onto her dead mother. 

“Papa?” Her father didn’t answer.

“I know what you think, Barnes, but I am not monster,” Frank spoke calmly. Too calmly, “I can give you my contacts, other members who escaped.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the man, “Give me an example, a name, and I’ll decide if it’s worth it.”

“... Viktor Vanzin,” Bucky grinned, pulling out his pocket knife. 

“You’re lying,” Bucky had killed that man himself. That meant Frank was truly out of the loop, “I want your daughter. A life for a life.”

“She’s innocent,” Frank continued. 

“So was I,” Bucky countered, waiting for a response. 

“Okay, Barnes. Life for a life,” As Frank finally nodded yes, Bucky thought the girl might faint. She went completely still, her heart completely broken. Bucky almost felt bad but he was really doing her a favor. 

“You evil fucking bastard,” Bucky cursed, moving behind the man and wrapping his arm around the man’s neck. Frank struggled as Bucky drove the knife several times into his stomach. He wanted him to slowly bleed out, to suffer. The man slumped back over the table, coughing up blood. 

He spoke his last words to her, “I-I’m s-sorry, schatz.”

Treasure.

She fainted. 

+

Mina awoke on a thin mattress in a cold room. She reached to clutch her robe but only found her thin, blue nightgown. She wrapped her arms around herself, the sound of her heart pounding flooding her ears, before quickly sitting up. She regretted it instantly, gaining a headache quickly. 

She looked around and found now windows. The walls were a boring beige and there were absolutely no decorations. Only one wooden chair in the corner. Bucky heard the commotion and walked into the room a few moments later. He found her standing, pacing around the locked room.

He expected her to be angry, to shout at him, but instead, he watched eyes well up with tears. He much rather she is angry then have to watch her cry, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“You want to be in the afterlife with those evil people?”

“I-I’m evil too, remember?” She choked on her sobs. She remembered how her father was willing to give her over to this man in a trade for his life. She remembered how he died anyways and she was taken by this man too. 

“I haven’t decided that.”

“I know they must’ve done something bad to you but they … t-they were my parents,” She struggled to speak, “They loved me. Doesn’t that show some kind of humanity?”

Bucky leaned back against the door,  fingers brushing through his beard as he thought, “You truly don’t know who they really were?” She was silent, “They were top scientists for Hydra. They’re responsible for thousands of deaths and you … they lied to you.”

She shook her head, “No, they work in finances. They could never do that.”

“I think your father showed you his true colors in his final moments. If that doesn’t convince you then I don’t know what will.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

Bucky leaned forward, “So, even in death, they can look at you from the other side and feel no peace.”

“Please … please just kill me.”

“Where’s the fun in that, my little treasure?”

+

Mina hated her parents. 

She loved them because they were her parents and hated them because they were the reason this happened to her. She would never see them again, never see Manhattan or Brandon ever again. 

When Bucky walked into the small room later that day, he had a black box as well as a tray of food. Mina held her knees to her chest, staring at the wall, “Leave me alone.”

Bucky sighed, “I think you’re gonna need your strength,” Out of the corner of her eyes she could see his shirt was short-sleeved, his metal arm fully exposed. He set down the tray by her sad excuse of a bed. 

He waited but she didn’t move. Bucky gently placed down the box before moving towards her. She flinched away from him but he grabbed her leg, pulling her flat on her back, “No, don’t! Please don’t!” His metal arm wrapped around her throat and with a swift movement, he ripped off her nightgown. She was weeping again as he did the same with her bra and panties. She grabbed at his arm which was completely useless. 

When he was done, Bucky stood up, watching as she scrambled to cover up with her arms, “You’re sick!” 

Bucky tossed the remnant to the side, “Good girls get to wear clothes. Eat and I’ll think about getting you some clothes. I’m in control here, I won’t put up with your tantrums,” Mina stared at him and Bucky was relieved that she was scowling at him instead of crying, “Eat.”

Mina flinched at the sound of his voice but moved forward. It was heated up canned soup and a plastic cup of water. She was glad that he splurged on her. Sitting on her knees, she covered her breast with one hand and moved the plastic spoon with her other hand. 

It was lukewarm and not that appetizing but she ate most of it. Bucky had pulled the wooden chair closer and taken a seat, “C-Can I have clothes now?” Her face was completely red and, now, she found it hard to even look at him. 

“I’ll think about it in a few days,” Bucky answered simply, and, as it were even possible, her face fell even more, “Considering your reaction, it seems like a good punishment.”

“Why do you want to punish me?” Mina asked, her voice timid. Was not taking her from her family enough?

“Oh, doll,” Bucky’s face softened as he leaned forward in the chair, “I don’t want to punish you but you won’t be obedient otherwise.”

To Bucky, she was a prize. A product of all that he had done and all that he had overcome to get to this point. He had survived her parents and now he owned their lives as well as their daughters. He’d spit on their graves by making her loyal and obedient to him. 

“If I promise to behave, can I have some clothes?” Bucky grinned, thinking she was smarter than she looked. 

Bucky’s eyes went to the black box and he swiftly picked it up, “I have something else for you to wear. A temporary one until you graduate.”

“Graduate?”

“I’m thinking of calling it Bucky’s Reformatory School for Troubled Little Girls,” She couldn’t tell if he was joking but he seemed very proud of the name he came up with. He opened the box, pulling out a plain black collar with a single silver loop, “Crawl over here, pet. Let me put it on you.”

“Mr. Barnes, please-”

“Call me Master.”

+ 

It took Mina two months to even earn a pair of panties. And the panties he chose for her were skimpy, to say the least. 

Mina was used to being naked now and she was almost used to Bucky. He insisted on complete order in his house. They woke up at the same time every day, ate breakfast, Bucky went off probably to murder people and came back in the afternoon to torture her.

That morning, she sat at his feet, eating her breakfast from a plate on the floor. Apparently, she wasn’t allowed the luxury of eating at the table or even sleeping in an actual bed. It was her job to make the food, the way he taught her, and she wasn’t even allowed to enjoy it. 

She wasn’t sure exactly where this rustic house was and Bucky didn’t care to answer questions like that. It wasn’t like anywhere she had lived when she was growing up. Though it wasn’t the biggest it was quite homey and somewhere she probably would’ve liked if she weren’t stuck here. The place had a big porch and there were trees surrounding most of the property except for a pond she noticed one time. 

Bucky was going through his computer, looking at codes Mina couldn’t understand. It probably had something to do with whatever mission he had to go on today. 

Mina itched at her collar, a reminder that she was not yet perfect to Bucky. 

“Mina,” She looked up quickly. Every time she heard him say her name she hoped he’d say something along the lines of giving her freedom. It made her think about what would happen if she was free. Where would she even go? She didn’t have any more family and she’d be surprised if Brandon hadn’t forgotten all about her, “Dishes.”

She gave him a solemn look, standing up with her plate in her hand. She grabbed his too and she felt his eyes over her body. He seemed to resist his urges well. Mina knew he desired to touch her and it would be a matter of time before he violated her that way. 

She walked the dirty dishes over to the sink, still feeling his eyes on her as he sat at the kitchen table, “Do you want to do something fun today, pet?”

“What do you mean, Master?”

She heard his chair creak as he rose from his seat, “We’ll go into town. We’re in dire need of groceries.”

Bucky watched her carefully, wanting to see her reaction. This was all another test, of course, to see if he could trust her out in public. 

She turned her head and Mina almost smiled for the first time in a long time. He moved behind her and Mina focused back on the dishes, “Yes, yes, that would be very nice.” He smacked her hard on her bottom and Mina winced, “I mean yes, Master.”

She felt his body heat on her skin as she turned off the water, setting the dishes into a drying rack. As she turned around, Bucky grabbed her by her neck. Luckily for her, it wasn’t the metal one, “You’d be very grateful to me, right?”

Mina nodded as best as she could, forced to look into his eyes, “What would you do to thank me?”

Mina hesitated but not for long as she felt his hand tighten, “Whatever you want, Master.”

Bucky smirked, “Hmm, and if I wanted your lips around my cock? What would you say?”

He loved this, watching her squirm. She actually thought about it and she wasn’t strong enough to defy this. Throughout this whole process, she thought she’d be stronger than this. All she knew is she’d do anything to escape this house,  “I … I-If that’s what you wanted, Master.”

The accomplished look on his face told her enough, “Let’s get dressed then.”

+

The drive from the house in Bucky’s truck was shorter than she expected. That told her that she wasn't as far away from civilization as she originally thought. She watched all the road signs but she still couldn’t quite tell where she was. It looked to be maybe that they were in the South by the type of trees. 

It seemed to be a very small town with one main street and a few more buildings. 

She was wearing a pair of regular jeans that were a little too big for her and a black hoodie that only partially hid the collar. It was another reminder that she was not a regular person anymore. Perhaps she never was.

Bucky grabbed her hand as they walked into the practically empty Piggly Wiggly. He grabbed a cart with his other hand, greeting one of the old ladies behind the cash register. 

She was not to talk to anyone unless they addressed her and Bucky would kill anyone that she tried to ask for help. Violently, he made sure to add. 

She tried her best to enjoy what little freedom she had but her mind kept wandering back to what she had “promised” Bucky she’d do in return for this outing. 

“Can we get something to eat?” She blurted out, before whispering, “Master.”

Bucky thought for a moment, pointing out the brand of Milk he wanted, waiting for her to fetch it for him. 

“Want to spend even more time in my company?” She scowled on the inside but nodded anyway. 

Bucky chose a diner on the edge of town and they seemed to get stares from everyone inside as they walked in and chose their booth. Bucky looked around as if he wasn't used to being in places like this either. 

Bucky asked her what she wanted so he could order her, avoiding as much human contact as possible, “ … and a chocolate milkshake.”

“That might cost you extra later, Mina,” Her lips pressed down into a thin line. 

“Whatever you wish, Bucky,” It was brave, saying that when he couldn’t reprimand her. Bucky smirked, knowing what she was doing. 

Bucky proceeded to order for them, including the milkshake she wanted, “Can I use the bathroom?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “Do you think I was born yesterday?” Quite the opposite, she thought. 

Mina slouched back in her seat. It was only recently that she looked at him and actually thought he was attractive. Maybe they would’ve worked together if he weren’t so cruel. 

“Maybe if I pee my pants, someone will notice and-”

“Mina,” He practically growled her name, “Don’t ruin this opportunity I’m giving you.”

As the waitress approached with their food, Mina slowly slid the knife on the table into her lap and then the pocket of her sweatshirt. Bucky actually smiled at the waitress and she seemed to swoon. 

Mina enjoyed her milkshake and the two sat quietly for most of the meal. Bucky watched as she devoured her food and felt a little bit better about rewarding her. It had been a long two months but she was coming along a few more months, and she wouldn’t have a single thought that didn’t involve making Bucky happy. 

He grabbed her hand as they both went up to pay the check, “You two are a lovely couple,” Mina didn’t even react and the woman only smiled awkwardly, “Have a good night.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Master.”

Bucky could sense the tension between the two of them growing as they got into his car. As they traveled down the dirt road, a feeling swept over both of them. A feeling of knowing and worry. Bucky put the car in park, sighing, “You’re clever but not clever enough, Mina.”

Mina froze, “Give me the knife. I won’t ask again.” Bucky’s words were sharp, demanding. 

Mina reached into her pocket and gripped the knife. As quickly as she could and with as much force as she could muster, she shoved into him. It only entered a few centimeters into the right of his chest but the motion stunned him. Mina opened her door and jumped out. 

It was one last valiant effort at her freedom. Bucky’s chest rumbled with anger as he opened his own door, causing it to almost fall off its hinges. He chased her as she ran into the treeline. Bucky was unnaturally fast and she was only a few seconds ahead of him. 

She didn’t even make it thirty feet before a metal arm wrapped around her waist and through her small body over his shoulder. She fought with the last of the strength she had as he brought her back over to the truck. 

“You have no one,” he threw her body down, pinning her against the front side of the truck, “No one except for me. Do you understand that?”

She nodded, trying to ease his wrath. He was bleeding, she could see it seeping through the plaid of his shirt, “No one else who’s going to give a shit about whether you live or die.”

“I’m sorry,” She whimpered but it wasn’t enough. 

By her shoulder, he forced her down to the ground. She didn’t move as he began to undo his jeans. She closed her eyes but Bucky roughly grabbed her chin, “Look at me!” She did as his erection sprang from his underwear. It pressed against her closed lips, “Open.”

Whatever gentleness he was previously going to give her was gone. He shoved his erection inside her mouth, instantly making her gag with how deep it went.  

He groaned as he moved inside her with animalistic lust. Saliva dripped down her chin and her eyes filled with tears from the lack of oxygen. He even pinched her nose shut to torture her further.

She’d grab onto his thighs for some sort of balance and he’d simply push away her hands, using her mouth like a barbarian. 

Bucky didn’t want to finish in her mouth, he hadn’t waited this long for that. He pulled her up from her position on her knees only to pull the jacket over her head. Luckily, there was no one around to see what was happening in his driveway. 

He turned her around swiftly before easily yanking down her pants and panties as well, He pressed her front into the hood of the car, positioning himself at her entrance. Mina’s body had betrayed her and Bucky could feel her wetness. 

“You’d enjoy this more if you weren’t so stubborn, pet.”

He entered her slowly and Mina cried out, the pressure incredibly intense. 

Bucky held her waist, dragging her body back onto him and then pushing it forward as he moved in and out. He grunted, noting how tight she was around him. It felt like they were perfectly matched together. 

Bucky sped up his pace, his hand reaching around to rub her sensitive bulb. She flinched from the touch but he could tell it was from the sudden pleasure. She was tightening around him and he could tell she was already coming. Bucky made a note about how sensitive she was. 

The first orgasm ripped through her, completing shattering her world in the process. How could she be turned on by this? Maybe what she felt had been wrong all along. She tried to hold in her moans but that proved futile quickly. 

Bucky wasn’t done with her yet, turning her back around to face him and lifting her leg so he could slide into her again. She looked tired from the first one, tears still staining her face. Bucky held her neck in his metal hand as he slammed into her a few more times. He finished inside her with his lips on hers. As he came, he removed his hand and he felt Mina return his kiss. They moved well together, his tongues brushing hers as it became sloppier. 

Mina was crying still, not because of the gagging but because she realized what Bucky said was true.

“I’m the only one you have,” He spoke, starting to kiss her chin and then her neck. She nodded vigorously in agreement. 

“I know, I-I know,” Her eyes didn’t leave his. 

Bucky pulled away, looking her over, loving how perfect she was, “Let’s get you in the bath, doll.”

+

Hope you enjoy this! I have another Sebastian fic called plaything and a bunch of dark Peter stuff. I’m currently trying to write a Bucky/Steve/Peter related Walking Dead AU so hopefully my idea for that works out lol. 

[axoxtxhxh]

For the prompts thing: Couch

And if I get to choose characters then I'd be interested in Erwin and Miche interacting?

Love your work btw!

Thank you so much! I need to start by saying oh my gosh. I can’t even explain how much fun I had writing this, anon. I almost peed my pants 🤣 I have the most childish humor, I swear 😅 I hope you enjoy these two dorks. Thank you for the request! ❤️

I’m still taking writing prompt requests. Click here to see some you can choose from :)

Erwin/Miche – Couch

“Tell me again why you ordered a couch and had it delivered to your old place?” Miche scratched his head and leaned on the doorframe of Erwin’s, now emptied, apartment.

“I assure you it wasn’t done on purpose.” Erwin explained. “I ordered it two months ago and they guaranteed it would arrive in six weeks.”

They both stared at the couch.

“Well, I guess let’s just get it out of here. You take that end,” Miche directed. They both bent down to their side of the couch and lifted. “Why did you need a new couch anyway. Didn’t you just buy the other one?”

“Yeah, the other one was great until you and Hange got that slime stain on it.” Erwin’s back hit the wall behind him. “Don’t push me backwards, I have nowhere to go.”

“The door is right next to you, we need to go that way.” Miche nudged his nose in the direction of the door.

“Back up a little, I need space to move there.” Miche backed up a little and they started carrying the couch through the door. They barely made it through when something stopped the couch from moving further. “Wait, don’t push. It’s stuck.”

“On what?” Miche tried to peek over the couch to see.

“I’m not sure.” Erwin followed the edge of the couch to see what was blocking it from moving. “It looks to be the legs.”

“Can we angle it to squeeze it through?” Miche called.

“I don’t think so. Let’s bring it back in.”

They moved the couch back in the couple feet they were able to carry it. Miche took a deep breath and looked at the couch, his hands on his hips.

“I suppose it was a bad idea to have them assemble it.” Erwin told, his hands also on his hips. Miche looked up at him, shocked.

“You had them put it together?” Miche’s eyes were wide in disbelief at what Erwin was saying.

“Yeah, just before you got here.” Erwin nodded.

“Why the fuck did you have them unwrap it and put it together when you knew we were going to move it?”

“I paid for the service.”

“Jesus, okay.” Miche rubbed his face and knelt down to look at the couch legs. “Well, we’re probably going to have to take the legs off to fit it through the doorway. Do you have tools?”

“At home.” Erwin crossed his arms fretfully, knowing they were in trouble.

“I’m assuming you mean your new house and not here.”

“That’s correct.” Miche dropped his head.

“Okay, I have some tools in my trunk.” Miche stood up. “Hang on, I’ll go grab them.”

Miche quickly ran down to his Jeep and grabbed his small bag of tools, going back up to the couch and bending down to figure out how to take off the legs. It took a good twenty minutes for them to get the legs off the couch and Erwin put them in the passenger seat of his car.

They moved back into position to get the couch through the doorway and lifted the couch up, inching it slowly through the doorway until Erwin was at the stairwell and Miche was nearly out of the apartment.

“Miche, can we switch?” Erwin asked, his foot on the first step of the staircase.

“What?” Miche leaned to look over the couch.

“I really don’t like the idea of walking down the stairs backwards.” Erwin explained. “Can we switch?”

“Why didn’t you say this earlier, Erwin!” Miche yelled. “Holy shit, I am actually going to throw this couch down the stairs.”

“Come on, you’re taller anyway.”

“I refuse to bring this thing back inside,” Miche grumbled, “You can climb over it.”

“Fine.” Erwin took off his shoes and tossed them in the apartment, stepping onto the couch with his socks and climbing down until he was next to Miche. Miche moved to step over the couch so he wouldn’t have to remove his shoes, but he couldn’t reach the ground without stepping on the couch.

“Damn it. I’m just going to roll myself.” He turned around and laid his back on the couch, trying to roll himself backwards to get to the end. He overestimated the distance and Erwin laughed as he watched Miche roll down the first two steps of the staircase. Miche caught himself, laughing along with Erwin. “Ready?”

Erwin nodded and they both grabbed their ends of the couch, lifting up and slowly moving down the stairs. With a sigh, Miche went to set the couch on the ground so they could figure out how to transport it.

“Wait! Don’t set this on the ground!” Erwin shouted. “It’s dirty.”

“You want me to just hold this thing?” Miche rolled his eyes. “How are you getting it to your new place?”

“I was going to tie it to the top of my car.”

“That seems like a terrible idea and that’s not even because your car is too small for that.” Miche laughed.

“Why won’t it work?” Erwin stared at Miche with his eyebrows drawn together.

“Do you have ropes to tie it?”

“No.”

“That’s why it won’t work.” Miche laughed, almost dropping the couch. “Let’s move it to my Jeep.”

They walked the couch across the parking lot to Miche’s Jeep and he opened the trunk and Erwin squeezed his side of the couch into the trunk and moved to Miche’s side to help him push. They pushed forward until the couch hit the seats.

“Damn, it’s too big.” Miche tried to look over the couch to see how they could make it work.

“Why is it too big? It’s nearly in.” Erwin pointed out.

“Nearly in? Half the couch is sticking out.”

“It’s not too bad.”

“You want me to drive down the highway with this thing hanging out of my ass?”

“What if we tie it?”

“You don’t have ropes! Stop suggesting that!” Miche held the couch, trying to think. “You know what? I think I have some ratchet straps under my back seat. Go check.”

Erwin went to the side door and came back with them.

“Come here and hold the couch.” Miche instructed. “Maybe if I put my seats in the back down, we can push it in further.”

They put the back seats down and were able to push the couch in a bit more and the rest was held with the ratchet straps to make sure the couch didn’t fly out the back while he was driving.

“Okay, let’s hurry up and go before traffic gets bad.” Miche climbed in his Jeep and Erwin followed behind him.

They reached Erwin’s house and started the whole process of moving it in through the doorway again. It was much easier than moving it out as the legs were already off and Erwin’s new place was a house and had a lot more space.

“Do you want me to go backwards up the stairs?” Miche asked before they started.

“Please.”

They slowly pulled the couch inside and set it back up. Legs were put on quickly and they both took a deep and satisfying breath as they looked at their work.

“It really is a nice couch though.” Miche patted Erwin’s back. “Do you have any beer?”

“Thanks. Yeah, there’s some in the fridge.” Miche went to the kitchen and came back with two, one for Erwin and one for him.

“Well I know I am going to enjoy this.” Miche smiled as he slowly sat down on the couch. “This is really—ah!”

Miche’s body was forced to bend forward as the couch folded in half and squeezed him between the back cushion and seat cushion. Miche slowly looked up at Erwin with the most intense expression of mistrust.

“The whole time, this thing was able to fold?”

“Ah right.” Erwin covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed at Miche’s scrunched up body. “I forgot it did that.”

“What the fuck, dude?”

[everybodyscupoftea]

the breakup

pike jj x reader (ft. cody, tyler, and zach)

the long awaited moment :)

warnings: cursing, light editing

Seeing one of his best friends thriving with a guy, a guy who’d fully replaced him in her life, really fucking hurt JJ. He was sitting in his room one afternoon, door shut, listening to the whole group of them bickering over what movie to watch. Brooke was sitting at his desk, typing something on her laptop, JJ couldn’t remember what, and he couldn’t help but notice that when Brooke was over, he had to keep his door shut.

He wasn’t sure if it was something he did intentionally or just reflexively. He knew Brooke wasn’t welcome, hell, Brooke knew she wasn’t welcome. The damage had been done and there was no replacing the bitterness the others felt toward her.

JJ wasn’t an idiot, he saw how fucked up the way Brooke treated his friends was. He noticed her cruel remarks behind her friends’ backs, and it made him wonder exactly what she said when he wasn’t around. 

It hadn’t always been like that, at first, Brooke was sweet, wanting to meet his friends and get along with them. They were standoffish first, and maybe that’s the reason JJ was hesitant to give it up. Technically, he had the moral high ground here.

Plus, Brooke was an excellent distraction. She was attractive, she liked him, and she was always willing to hang out, great for helping him avoid addressing his true feelings and why he felt so hurt about Zach.

He really thought it would get better after the talk he had with her. She crashed their anniversary, and that was admittedly not his best move, but they talked it out and she agreed to be less confrontational and more friendly. Which backfired the second the boys found out he was still dating her. They’d been pissed.

JJ often thought about Cody’s hissed, “You finally realize how she treats us but refuse to break up with her, I see where your priorities really lie.” It didn’t seem fair. Why should he be miserable and alone just because they didn’t like the girl he was dating.

What he was failing to realize, or maybe he had deep down but was avoiding it, was that he’d get his friends back, he wouldn’t be alone. Sure they’d make him grovel, and he’d probably have to pay for a lot of lunches and dinners before they fully forgave him, but he’d never be alone.

Until he realized that, though, he would. JJ would never really get his friends back as long as Brooke was involved, and if Brooke wasn’t out of the picture soon, he’d really damage the relationship beyond repair. Tyler words echoed frequently, “If you choose Brooke over your best friends, the ones here for you since day one, you’re not the guy I thought you were.”

-

Zach was getting ready to head to the fieldhouse, zipping up his team jacket in your room before he had to head out, and he gently suggested, “Maybe you should invite JJ to the game.” 

Immediately you were shaking your head, “Absolutely not, this game is important to you, I know pro scouts are going to be there. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiled softly, “I just want you to be happy.”

“And I want you to be supported without distraction. Cody, Tyler, and I will be there, front row, cheering you on.”

Zach bent down to kiss your forehead, “Fine, but the scouts aren’t even there for me, I’m not a senior yet.”

“But they’ll notice you, I’m sure of that.”

With a shrug, he inhaled deeply, “Maybe, but it’s not my place yet.”

Shoving him gently toward the door, you waved, a proud smile on your face, “Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”

“Love you,” he answered, wiggling his fingers in a wave goodbye.

“Love you more,” you responded, not letting him get the last word as the door swung shut behind him.

When it was finally time for you to head to the field, you were pretty sure you were more nervous than Zach was. Rubbing your thighs in an anxious gesture, you sighed, ready for the game to be over.

Tyler grabbed both of your hands, stopping you and catching your attention. He squeezed them with a smile, “Zach will be fine.”

“I know, I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.”

“Because you want him to succeed. That’s love, bitch.”

You snorted, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Now, stop stressing, How many times has he told you you’re his good luck charm?”

“Many.”

“Mhmm. And you’re here, so everything will be fine.”

And Tyler was right of course, Zach played an excellent game, one of his best of the season. You were bouncing up and down, waiting for him to finish showering and find you in the parking lot. Cody and Tyler had driven, but you wanted to ride back with Zach.

He grinned widely when he saw you waiting by his truck and sped up. You ran the last few steps when he got close, launching yourself into his arms. Zach’s happy laugh made you smile as he spun you around a few times before setting you down.

“Holy shit, Zach. You were on fire today.”

He blushed, “Well, what can I say, I was trying to impress my favorite girl in the stands.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged him down by his jacket to kiss him. Zach immediately returned the kiss, and when you broke away, you whispered, “Cheesy,” to him with a soft smile.

“Only for you.”

-

Cody and Tyler got back to the dorm and were a little shocked to see JJ sitting at his desk, door wide open. Thankfully Brooke was nowhere in sight. He glanced up to see them standing there and took in their Duke baseball sweatshirts, a dark look crossing his face.

“So, baseball fans now, huh?”

“Gotta support our bro,” Tyler answered, unfazed.

“Thought you liked basketball.”

He shrugged, “I’m multifaceted. I know you wouldn’t understand.”

JJ huffed indignantly, “At least I’m not bending over backwards for a dude I barely know.”

“You barely know him, sure, but we’re friends with him.”

“He’ll drop you so fast if he goes pro. And that’s even if he’s good enough to go pro, which I doubt.”

Cody and Tyler weren’t fully aware of Zach’s situation and the lack of real support he received from his family, but they’d noticed you make a point to remind him how well he’s doing and how good he is. It didn’t sit well with them that a guy who’d never played baseball competitively in his life was criticizing their friend.

“Have you ever seen him play?” Tyler asked incredulously, “he’s so good so you can fuck off with that nonsense.”

JJ rolled his eyes, “Bias.”

And this time Zach wasn’t there. Tyler felt the rage running through him at JJ’s dismissal and before Cody realized what was happening, he was striding across the room. JJ’s eyes widened and he started to back away, but it was too late.

Tyler swung, landing a solid hit right on his mouth, busting his lip instantly. JJ’s hand flew to his shirt, pulling it over his bleeding lip. Tyler was breathing heavily, hand still clenched by his side in case he needed to hit again.

“Keep his name out of your fucking mouth, Maybank,” and then he was gone.

Cody stared wide eyed at JJ before turning and running to their room to shut the door. Tyler was pacing, running a hand repeatedly through his hair, and he looked up when Cody locked the door. He smiled, “How’d that feel.”

“Really good,” Tyler admitted, “very cathartic. You should try.”

Cody snorted, “I’ll let you handle the hitting, Rocky. I’d probably break my knuckles.”

Tyler laughed and the tension broke. He sniffed and sat on his bed, “Should we sent it in the groupchat or keep it to ourselves.”

“I’m willing to take this one to the grave if you are.”

Spitting in his hand, Cody offered it to Tyler. In turn, Tyler spit in his hand and they shook. No one would ever know.

-

Except you knew immediately when you saw JJ’s busted lip. Your eyebrows shot up and you glanced at the two boys who were smiling innocently and shook your head, “I won’t ask.”

“Thanks,” Tyler responded, “but trust me, you would’ve hit him too.”

Which you quickly interpreted that he’d said something insulting about either you or Zach. Exhaling once, you nodded, “Fine, I’m not here for him anyway, I’m here to remind the two of you about the baseball party we’re leaving for in ten minutes that you clearly forgot about.”

“Oh fuck,” Cody winced, “that’s tonight?”

“It is, you guys still coming?”

“Absolutely,” Tyler answered, “let me get dressed real quick.”

You sat on his bed while the two of them scrambled to find something acceptable to wear. It took Tyler changing his shirt for the fourth time for you to speak up, “Hey, y’all look fine. Let’s go.”

He rolled his eyes, “If we’re showing up with the prettiest girl at the party, we have to look the part.”

“Oh hush,” you pushed him away, “you looked really good in the first sweater.”

Tyler laughed, “You couldn’t have told me that before I changed four times?”

“Nope, now come on, we’re going to lose Cody if we don’t get moving soon.”

He sighed and pulled the first sweater back on before grabbing a pair of shoes and heading to the door where Cody had been standing for the past 10 minutes. Cody looked up from his phone, “Don’t you look hot, Ty.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

Cody reached over to ruffle his hair, Tyler squawking indignantly when he did so, slapping his hand away. You sighed, stepping between them, “Children, let’s go.” 

“You’re driving?” Cody asked as the three of you got on the elevator.

“Yep, my turn to DD.”

“Shotgun,” Tyler called.

“Hey,” Cody protested, “you can’t call it if you can’t even see the car.”

“I can and I did. Fuck you.”

Sighing again, you told Tyler, “We both know that’s not how it works.”

With a shit eating grin, he answered, “I know. I’m messing with him since he fucked up my hair.”

“Hair looks great,” Cody reassured, “as always.”

-

JJ was completely unsure how Brooke managed to pull an invite to a baseball party. They were notoriously exclusive on campus, not letting many people without a direct connection to a player in. But she had.

“How the fuck did you manage this?” he finally muttered as they walked to the door.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Don’t you listen to me when I talk? My cousin plays.”

So apparently he didn’t listen to her much. She showed the guy at the door the text from her cousin and they walked right in, music playing loudly through the house. Brooke grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the kitchen, and JJ looked around, not recognizing a single person.

And then Zach came downstairs. JJ’s gut twisted and he looked away, trying to avoid the boy who likely hated him. Brooke noticed and huffed, “Literally he’s so harmless, babe. Remember he stopped Tyler from punching you.”

Which was true. Zach caught his eye and nodded at him in greeting. JJ nodded back and kept moving until they reached the drinks. He drove, so Brooke grabbed a drink and he grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler shoved in the corner.

Brooke gave him a weird look, “Not even one beer?”

“Not really feeling up to a party.”

She rolled her eyes, “Then why the fuck did you come?”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Because I’m your boyfriend.”

“So you think I need supervision? You don’t trust me?”

“I, no-” he tried to come up with an acceptable answer, “it’s just in case something goes wrong to keep you safe. And I’m always your plus one, figured I could just come to drive.”

With a scoff, she answered, “Could’ve just dropped me off. Now you’re going to keep me from having fun, stick in the mud.”

JJ was a little hurt, but he chose not to answer, not wanting to start yet another fight with her. He nodded and let it go. Brooke rolled her eyes again and JJ couldn’t help but take note that she’d been doing it a lot lately. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

That’s when he saw you, Cody, and Tyler walk through the door, not even needing to show the guy an invite. The player at the door yelled out, “Davis, your girl’s here!” JJ wasn’t sure how he heard over the music, but Zach’s head whipped around and a grin lit up his face.

You waved and made your way to the crowd to kiss him. JJ watched, a weird feeling in his chest, and rubbed over his heart when your group didn’t even look his way. He heard a rushing sound in his ears and went lightheaded. Fuck, he realized, the three of you wanted nothing to do with him.

The startling realization left him cold as Brooke waved at who he assumed was her cousin. He walked over and greeted JJ, “Sup, dude. Nice to meet you. Andy right?”

JJ froze, head whipping over to stare at Brooke. She had gone pale and his jaw dropped, “Nah, dude, I’m JJ.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed and he frowned, “I- my bad. Must’ve gotten you confused with someone else.” Before JJ could respond, he was gone, clearly not ready to face the fallout of his careless words.

Clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of the knot, JJ turned to Brooke, “Who’s Andy?”

“He’s my partner in geology, you know that.”

“Oh, the boy who flirts with you all the time?”

Her smile looked forced, “That’s the one.”

“Mhmm, and why did your cousin seem to know his name but not mine?”

“I’ve complained about him and his flirting before to my cousin.”

“Right,” JJ wasn’t sure if he should believe her or not, “I think we need to have a talk.” Standing up, he pulled her behind him to the bathroom downstairs. Not wanting to make a scene in the living room.

Brooke’s eyes narrowed, “You’re going to do this right now, embarrass me at this party?”

“Are you cheating on me?” he asked once the door was finally shut.

“No! I’m not that kind of person,” she defended.

JJ scoffed, “Why don’t I believe you right now?”

Hands thrown up, she yelled, “I don’t know, but that’s a you problem.”

“Being cheated on is not a me problem. It’s a you being an asshole problem.”

“JJ,” she said lowly, “I didn’t cheat on you, honestly. I-” she paused, biting her lip, “I thought about it, but nothing happened.”

Blinking a few times to process, JJ managed to croak out a disbelieving, “What?”

Brooke, clearly fed up, scoffed, “Don’t act like that, do you even realize how painful it is to watch your boyfriend pine after a girl who clearly knows him better. God she won’t even give you the time of day that way and you still watch her.”

His eyebrows shot up, “That’s so untrue. I’ve almost ruined those relationships forever because I stood up for you.”

“Thanks for doing the bare minimum,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No,” he pointed at her, “you don’t get to take the moral high ground when you literally considered cheating on me.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Brooke, you didn’t physically cheat on me, but by considering it, I’d say you did.”

“Come on,” she started, fully turning to face him, “we can work through this.”

“I think,” he paused, trying to stop the shake in his voice, “I think we should break up.”

Brooke shook her head fiercely, “No, no. We’re solid, we can get through this.”

JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Come on, Brooke, the writing’s been on the wall for weeks.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Before she could respond someone was pulling at the doorknob trying to get in. JJ cleared his throat, “Occupied.”

“Hurry up!” a familiar voice yelled, and he heard your giggle.

Brooke’s eyes hardened and she threw the door open, startling you, “Fuck you and fuck your stupid friends.”

You blinked, stunned, and turned to JJ for an explanation. He looked sad and resigned, “Sorry. She’s a little upset.”

Zach caught his eye and looked sympathetic, “Sorry man, I know you liked her.”

Cody’s head swiveled back and forth between him and Zach, “Wait what, what’s going on?”

Your jaw dropped as you put the pieces together, “Holy fuck, you did it?”

“Did what?” Cody whined, tired of being left out.

“I, uh, I broke up with her,” JJ answered, voice a little shaky.

Cody beamed and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking a little, “Tonight we drink to celebrate!” 

You laughed, leaning back into Zach, “Congrats, Maybank. Knew you could do it.”

Tyler reached out, offering his fist for JJ to bump for the first time in months. JJ did cautiously before stepping fully out of the bathroom, following Cody and Tyler to the kitchen.

He felt light and heavy at the same time, and Brooke was nowhere to be found. For the first time in a while, he felt like he could breathe.

You and Zach joined the three of them soon after and JJ relished the feeling. Turns out he’d really missed you guys.

[xwing-baby]

A Day Off (Mandalorian x Reader)

This was inspired by everyone’s favourite @dindjarindiaries ​ and her lovely fic ‘The Challenge’ go read it because it's way better than this bullshit that my brain came up with. You’re an amazing writer Molly, I am sorry for this. I’m not sure why I really wrote this, but I hope you enjoy!

IMAGINE: Din leaves you for the day to go on a hunt. You entertain yourself and end up very drunk by the time he comes to find you. Hilarity ensues. (Drink responsibly kids!)

Word count: 2.4k... this was meant to be short. 

Warnings: Mention of alcohol, violence, and vomit! Please drink responsibly!! Cheeky bit of pining, little bit of flirting, fluff at the end!

The decision to leave you out of today’s hunt was a mutual one. You were tired and in need of a rest, the quarry was easy and Din was more than capable on his own anyway. So, he left you in a small town a few miles from his destination. In that small town, you found a tired old cantina, filled with enough booze and pleasant conversation to survive the next few hours. 

The hunt was done, the victim handed off successfully to the right person and Din was on his way to find you so you could move on to the next planet. He was tired and bruised from the hunt and wanted to get back to the safety of the Crest sooner rather than later, but knew as soon as he heard your distinctive laugh from outside the cantina that that was not going to be the reality. 

As if you knew he was coming, you stumbled out of the door before he could even open it. Your hair was messed up, strands falling out of the tie and into your face. There was liquid spilled down the front of your shirt and your boots were untied. You looked a mess. For a second he was a little worried, until a goofy smile spread across your face when you recognised him. 

“You came back!” You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian. Shocked, Din stands still. Not really sure what to do with himself. You notice and laugh, stumbling back off him. “You were gone for like a million hours! I missed you” 

“It was ten hours,” Din said with a smile, “But we’re going now,”

“Great, ‘cus I don’t think I can go back in there again,” You ran ahead of Din a few paces and grimaced. “Not a lot of friends were made today! But-but- but! I did a good thing actually!” Din just kept walking, trying not to entertain your rambling. You carried on anyway, you were used to his silence by now. “There was this twi’lek right, looked great but oh my stars! The worst! Turns out he knew you! Everyone knows you, not a surprise there. But he also knew that I was with you and tried to chat shit about you!” You were shouting now, gesturing animatedly and zigzagging across the street. “And he kept going so I just punched him,” You mimicked your actions from early, swinging your arm and using the momentum to turn back around to face the Mandalorian, “Punched him straight in the face! It was awesome!” 

“You didn’t need to do that,” 

“He was an asshole of course I did,” You sighed, “And apparently you know his sister or something? Didn’t realise you were such a Casanova, Tinman!” Again Din didn’t reply. He knew exactly who you were on about and was a little proud that you’d punched the guy. Must have been Xi’an’s brother. “Well, of course you are,” You continued. “You’re so freaking handsome all the time, and nobody can even see your face!” You swung back around to walk forward again, swinging your arms by your sides and giggling as you thought about what the Mandalorian might look like. You hadn’t been in his crew long but had developed feelings for him quite quickly. Not that Din knew this, “You know, I bet you’re really pretty under that helmet,” You tapped the top of his head for emphasis. “I don’t think you understand how pretty you are with it on! Maybe it’s for the best that you keep it on, you’d never be able to get anything done!” 

“Alright, y/n,” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy one day Mando,” You said with a dreamy look in your eye. 

Din smiled and blushed a little at your words. At the same time you had developed feelings for Din, Din had developed feelings for you. He was very glad to have the helmet to hide how obvious a blush came to his face when you said things like that. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy, if you only knew. 

The pair carried on walking out of the town, and towards the small valley the crest had been hidden in. You carried on rambling away, telling him in immense detail everything that had happened while he was gone. 

“And then I got challenged to a drinking contest with this other dude. I say dude but turns out he was a Wookie. And I won! Everyone says I didn’t but I saw the way he walked out of there, I won so hard! Drunk him under the table,” You spoke quickly and animatedly. Din wasn’t really listening anymore, just enjoying the sound of your voice and watching you as you walked ahead making sure you didn’t fall over. “You should have been there and we could have smashed it!” You laughed, spinning around to face him again now with a puzzled look on your face. “Have you ever been drunk, Mando?” 

“A few times,” He replied, “Watch where you’re going,” 

“I am,” You say, continuing to walk backwards anyway. You thought about something for a second then spoke again, “But what about the Creed? Don’t you have to drink alone? Or,” You stopped again and burst into laughter. Din stopped walking, his patience growing a little thin. “D-do you, Ha!” You could barely get your words out, tears streaming down your face laughing at your own thoughts. “To- to get around the cr-creed… oh my stars!” 

“Y/n I don’t have time for this,” He said sharply.

“You have to use a straw!” You howled with laughter. Din shook his head, he wanted to be annoyed at you but your infectious laugh had caught him. He stifled his own laughter. “I want to see it so bad! Oh my stars!” 

“You’ve had your fun now,” Din tried to sound serious, his voice wavering a bit through the modulator as he tried not to laugh. 

“Yes, yes… oh! I’m sorry,” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Yes, I’m sorry you’re a super serious Mandalorian you wouldn’t use a straw!” You coughed to force yourself to calm down but cackled with laughter again. Din started walking again, leaving you behind a few paces while you calmed yourself down. Eventually, you followed and saw the ship over the crest of the hill. 

“I’ll race you!” You called, already speeding past the Mandalorian down the grassy hill. “Winner gets the refresher first!” 

You ran as fast as you could, and looked back for just a second to see that your companion hadn’t followed you. Before you could even blink you tripped and fell on a rock sticking out of the grass. You fell, flipping over and landing with a thud on your back. You skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill, conveniently next to your intended destination. This made Din run. 

Once he got to the bottom where you were, his panic quickly vanished as he found you in fits of laughter yet again. 

“Did you see that!” You laughed. “I won!” 

“Are you alright?” 

“My back hurts a little, but I won, loser!” You exclaimed, putting your fingers in a ‘L’ on your forehead. Din rolled his eyes. As if this whole experience couldn’t get more ridiculous. “Not going to help me up?” You pouted and held up your arms like a child. Din uncrossed his arms and held his gloved hand out for you to grab and pulled you up to your feet again. The back of your shirt was ripped and grass stains covered the pale materials along with a few drops of blood. You didn’t seem concerned at all as the alcohol in your system was numbing everything. 

Din opened the Crest and you walked up the ramp to the safety of its interior. 

“Where’s the baby?” You whispered loudly. Ever since you’d joined the crew you’d loved the Child like your own. Another thing Din admired about you. “Baby! We’re back,” 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“Shh!” You shoved your hand over the front of his helmet, “He might be sleeping,” Din pushed your hand off, and you carried on walking into the ship, creeping on your tiptoes. 

“I think you need to go to sleep,” 

“Only if you’ll come with me,” You turned around and looked the Mandalorian up and down, your playful attitude now turning darker. You played with the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them. Din was stunned, freezing in his spot. 

“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” Din tried to stay composed, but it was becoming more and more difficult as you took your top off. He knew he couldn’t do anything, you were way too drunk. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was also human. 

“I bet you’re so pretty under there,” You sighed. You moved to be closer to him when a small green creature stood on a box and caught your attention instead. “Hey little guy!” Din took a sigh of relief, the tension you had created dissipated almost instantly as you bent down to pet the little creature. 

While you were distracted he checked over your back, seeing only a few scrapes and deciding it would be fine until the morning when you’d sobered and also weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. Well, the last part he didn’t mind so much. 

Din went about his usual take-off activities. He could hear you talking to the Child, telling the little thing about your day and listening to it babble back, acting as if you could understand what it was saying. Eventually, you disappeared into the ship. Din hoped that you had gone to sleep. 

You hadn’t. You went to throw up, ultimately finding an empty freight box. The mixture of spinning from alcohol and the bumpy takeoff made for an upsetting mix. The Child grimaced and put its hand up to comfort you. An odd feeling washed over you, like a warm water trickling through you, then you felt better. You could see straight now. The Child seemed happy with whatever it had done and toddled away. 

You pushed yourself off the floor, and went in search of a new shirt. The cold chill of space had begun to seep into the ship's cracks making you shiver. You stumbled into Din’s quarters, you shouldn’t have  been in there but it was the first place you thought to look for a new shirt. And you found one. His cot was messy, clothes thrown around the small room. You couldn’t help but think about him then, getting out of that armour… 

It was too much. You shook your head. Even your drunk brain knew it was wrong to think about him like that. He didn’t like you, like that, there was no need to encourage the idea. Instead, you pulled the closest piece of clothing on. It was a little too big, but it smelt like him which made you smile. 

You decided to go to the cockpit to bother the Mandalorian again. It was lonely being drunk on your own. You climbed up to the cockpit and stood in the door silently. Din was talking quietly to the Child, trying to pull it away from the many shiny switches on the control panel. You grinned, seeing him with the child made your heart soar. He was so sweet to the creature, for a moment you could forget what a formidable character the Mandalorian really was. He acted like the creature’s dad and it was entirely believable. Quietly, you settled into the seat to his right, looking out as the stars streamed past in hyperdrive. Din had noticed, though didn’t say anything. It was silent for a moment or two, bar the Child’s playful squeals as it played with a silver ball. Din figured you had fallen asleep, glad that you weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. 

“When are you going to let me fly?” You ask suddenly. Din turns to you, but doesn’t say anything. This was almost a daily discussion. It was always no. “I know you said no the last time but I really think you’re underestimating me. I land badly one time and you never trust me to fly your ship!” 

“You crashed,” Mando said plainly.

“One time!” You exclaimed. “I’ll have you know it was very harsh conditions, and desert planets are very deceptive! Give me a nice- a nice planet,” You slurred as your eyes become heavier, “and I promise I will land the crest beautifully,”

“No way,” 

“Spoil sport,” You grumble. The Child hopped up into your lap, and presented the silver ball it had in its mouth, which made you giggle. You settled further into the seat, throwing your legs over the armrest, kicking them against the leather. The Child sat in your lap and showed you its new trick of making the item float. 

Mindlessly you began to sing, quietly, and play with the Child. The melody made Din’s ears prick, you were singing in Mando’a, a song that he hadn’t heard since he was a child. Your voice made him shiver, memories flooding back of the few happy moments of his life when this song was sung last. 

You sang it to the end, with very few mistakes, making Din wonder how long you’d known it. You must have known it for a while, but you’d never understood him when he spoke the language before. 

“Where did you learn that?” He finally caved and asked, wanting nothing more than for you to sing it again.

“I learnt it for you,” You said with a yawn, your eyes closing. You started singing again, the words now fading into mumbles and eventually you fell asleep. He turned in his chair to look at you as you were quiet once more. You’d curled yourself up in the chair, head tilted back resting on the wall. The Child sat in your chest, playing with the ends of your hair. The child looked at Din and smiled, then back at you. It's a little green hand patting your leg and it cooed.

“I know, kid.”

A/N: That ended a lot softer than I planned but hey ho. Remember drink responsibly, don’t challenge a wookie to a drinking challenge, you will lose. They’re massive. Goodnight!

Tagging: @captain-skytrash​ @dindjarindiaries​ @dartheldur​ @inked-poet​ @tortles

[willow-salix]

The Shirt

This little thing is for @misssquidtracy and @soniabigcheese and was supposed to be a ficlet (tell that to the 2.5k that came out). It came about after a throw away comment to Sonia last night and then John ‘helpfully’ dropped the whole thing in my head fully formed. Enjoy!

Thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for the gorgeous shot of this dude!

"I don't need any new clothes, I told you that."

"And I didn't listen. Come on, John, you haven't bought anything new since college."

"And I'm happy with that, all of my clothes are perfectly serviceable," John continued to argue as Gordon towed him into yet another shop. 

As always they drew attention, Gordon because of his loud voice and, according to him, his swimmers body that the women loved. Gordon had always loved to be the center of attention, he'd reveled in it back in his Olympic days, proud of the knowledge that his promotional pictures had graced many a teenagers phone backgrounds and lock screens. 

John, on the other hand, had no idea what people saw in him and why they still watched him even when he was with his brothers. He knew his hair always drew looks and over the years he'd heard more than a few people whispering something about checking if he was a natural redhead, although he'd never wanted to stick around to listen too closely and had gotten out of there sharpish. He'd much rather just be left alone to fade into the background where his introverted wallflower tendencies could be appeased. 

"Well, I need new clothes and you can't leave a man to shop on his own, it's just not done," Gordon continued. 

"I'm pretty sure there's no such rule."

"I'm making it a rule, it's part of the bro code now," Gordon shot back, flicking through yet another rack of eye-wateringly bright shirts that even Hawaii would have disowned. 

"I reject your rule."

"You can't, I'm your baby brother, you have to be nice to me, that's in the bro code too."

"I demand to see written proof of this rule book that you seem to keep pulling things from whenever it suits you."

Gordon glanced at his brother, seeing his lips twitch as he fought valiantly to keep any display of amusement firmly at bay. John didn't often get the chance to hang out with his younger brother but he always enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, that would only encourage Gordon to up his annoyance level by at least five points. 

"Ha! You smiled, I'm off the hook!" 

"I did no such thing."

"You did, I saw it! The robot had a feeling- ow!" Gordon ducked out of the way, avoiding another cuff around the back of the head from his, far too lanky for his own good, brother who apparently had the reach of an orangutan. 

"I'm not a robot, you little jerk. Stand still so I can hit you properly." And there went the warm fuzzy feelings. Back to reminding himself just why said hang outs didn't happen more often. 

"Yeah, right! Like that's gonna happen." Gordon shimmied backwards through the rack of shirts that made the sun look dull and out the other side to freedom. "Too much time in space has made you slow, bro!" 

"What? HOW DARE YOU!" Without thinking John dived around the side of the rack, stretching out to grab at his grinning brother. "I'll show you who's slow!" 

"I am lightning, I am the wind!" Gordon dodged aside with perfect ease, avoiding the grasping fingers of his brother. 

"Full of wind, more like! Stand still!" How was the squid so fast? 

"Come on, old man, keep up!" 

John made another grab at the back of Gordon's shirt but the little shit wiggled out of his grasp like an eel. 

"Ha! Victory is mine!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about th-" WHUMP! John spluttered, screeching to a stop as he got a face full of fabric, evidently thrown by Gordon who'd decided that weapons were now in play. 

He flailed, tripping over the leg of a clothing rack as he stumbled blindly. He made a grab for the first solid feeling thing he could find, although his judgement of solid was woefully inadequate. He landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, both his own and plastic, as the mannequin he'd inadvertently grabbed fell with him. 

"Gordon," he gasped, winded from his tumble, but the sound of his brother's hysterical laughter was all that he received by way of an answer. 

He yanked the material off his head, a shirt of some description by the looks of it, and staggered to his feet, dragging his dance partner up with him. 

He managed to get her upright and back on her stand after a great deal of huffing and many swear words muttered under his breath as Gordon continued to howl like a hyena, hanging onto a mirror to stop his own downward descent. 

Yanking her skirt back up where he'd accidentally yanked it down, John finally got the mannequin back in place and decently covered up. 

"Gordon stop laughing!" he ordered as he bent to pick up the shirt that had assaulted him before angrily turning to face his brother. 

"What a clumsy idiot," he heard someone whisper a few rows over, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep out of the way, he'll take us down with him next."

John ducked his head, his cheeks as red as his hair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He hated being the center of attention and now, he risked a peek to confirm his suspicions, yep, now the whole store was looking at him. Great, just perfect. 

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he hissed in Gordon's direction. 

"Too right. Did you see the shirt he's holding?" the woman's friend whispered back. "Anyone that picks out something like that should be avoided at all costs."

"He's looking, quick, pretend you haven't seen him!" Both women quickly looked away, suddenly extremely interested in a nearby coat. 

What were they talking about? John glanced down at the pile of fabric still clutched in his clenched fist. It was definitely a shirt of some description, beigey-brown in colour, but not just one shade, oh no, this monstrosity had at least four other shades of brown thrown in for good measure, all coming together in wavy lines of what-was-this-designer-thinking to form some kind of texan nightmare, complete with gaudy gold piping. It truly was hideous, quite honestly the most disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he'd trained with astronauts who didn't have control of their digestive systems yet. 

He looked around desperately to find somewhere to hide it away from his sight, ignoring Gordon who was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. 

There! He spotted a convenient looking pile of sweatpants on a shelf and moved over to stuff the offending article back into the depth of hell from whence it had crawled when a single, solitary thought tickled at the back of his brain. 

He paused, thinking, his brain hamster now awake and racing at top speed around its wheel. He glanced from the shirt to the women who had spoken before, then back down to the shirt. 

"I'm going to try this on," he announced to his stunned brother, marching past him to the changing rooms. 

He quickly stripped off his T-shirt, the one that declared that he was a communications engineer not a magician, and pulled on the horror shirt. Surprisingly enough it was actually made of quite a soft material, something his overly sensitive, due to time spent in low gravity, skin really appreciated. 

He pulled it closed and buttoned it up, rolling his shoulders to allow it to settle into place. It was remarkably comfortable, actually long enough in the body. He stretched out his arms, pleased to see that the cuffs didn't immediately hike up to his elbows. All good so far, but only one thing would assure its purchase…

He pushed open the changing room door and stepped outside. The effect was immediate as two men, three women and a toddler that had been independently milling around near the entrance took one look at him and, as one, turned as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. 

Grinning to himself he tugged the tag off the sleeve, grabbed his T-shirt from the changing room and headed to the counter. 

"I'll wear it out," he informed the cashier, loving the way he not so subtly averted his eyes, unable to look at him. "And I'll take as many as you have in stock in this size and the next one up too." The cashier rushed to do his bidding, desperate to save what remained of his eyesight. 

"See, I told you coming shopping with me was a good idea," Gordon grinned as they made their way back to the parking lot, their arms filled with bags. 

"I will admit that it had its advantages," John answered as they strode easily through the crowd that parted like the red sea, unwilling to risk being contaminated by their fashion flu. 

John breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he could relax for the first time since they'd gotten there three hours before. 

"That shirt is magical," Gordon declared, watching in astounded awe as eyes all around them shifted to avoid looking in his brother's direction. "It's like a people repellent in clothing form, it's….it's…" he groped around for the right words. 

"It's perfect," John declared, lovingly stroking a sleeve like one would a beloved pet. And it truly was. It was like people had a filter, an ugly shirt firewall in their heads that made them avoid it at all costs.

He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been stared at since the year he'd turned seventeen and hit his second growth spurt. In that year he'd shot up six inches, his lanky frame had filled out a little, his weedy arms turning into tightly packed muscles and he'd developed abs and a voice that had deepened a few octaves. Then, for some reason, his anxious aura with its go away vibes had become nothing but a challenge for most people, acting as a kind of siren call for them to latch on to him and decide that he needed to be included, chatted to and made the center of attention. 

Now it was like he was practically invisible and it felt amazing. Even with the neon orange shirt Gordon was wearing, people were mostly ignoring him. 

"I'm never taking this thing off again."

       ***

"Why am I always the one doing the laundry for you lazy arses?" Selene bitched as she dragged a massive basket of assorted Tracy clobber into the lounge where the assorted Tracys owners sat around in various states of lazy. 

"Because you love us?" Gordon answered, grinning cheekily. 

"Nope, that can't be it," Selene retorted, sitting down on the steps of the seating area to begin the mammoth task that was sorting and folding. She dragged out one of Virgil's plaids and folded it into some semblance of order and dropped it on the floor to start his pile. 

"Let me help," John offered, moving to sit beside her and take some of the pile from her lap. 

"Thanks, gorgeous."

"Whipped," Scott teased, reaching for his coffee cup. "Hey, Sel, if you're the only one doing the laundry as you claim, how comes you haven't managed to wreck John's ugly shirts?"

"Why would I?" she shrugged, balling up a pair of Scott's socks. 

"Because I know you. Any excuse to shop, right?" 

The socks made a handy projectile as she threw them at his head. 

"Thanks!" Scott grinned, effortlessly plucking them from midair. "Seriously though, look at it."

Selene looked at the shirt that was currently hiding the delightful chest of her even more delightful husband. 

"I fail to see the problem with it."

"Really?" 

"Hey, leave my shirt alone, it's perfectly serviceable, thank you."

"It's old, it has to be at least seven years since you bought them," Gordon joined in. "They probably don't even make them any more."

"They don't," John said, concentrating on folding one of Alan's T-shirts into a perfect square. "So nothing had better happen to the ones I have left."

"Now's your chance," Alan whispered to Selene. "Kill them with fire and you'll never have to see them again."

"Yeah, you know that he's got much nicer clothes in his wardrobe," Scott added. 

"I've actually grown quite fond of them," Selene answered, carefully folding one she'd plucked from the depths of the pile, smoothing it out like it was something precious. 

All three Tracys, minus one Virgil who was down in the hangars no doubt creating more washing for her to do by getting covered in grease and muck, stared at her like she'd just announced that she was going back to blonde. 

"What? How? You said that he's never looked better than when he's wearing a decent shirt, I had to give you a drool cloth at your wedding."

"All true," she shrugged, folding one of Virgil's vests to the best of her ability. 

"Yet you continue to let him walk about in, what was it you called it, his rodeo clown shirt?" Gordon asked, completely bemused. "Are we missing something here?" 

"I'm a witch," she started by way of explanation. 

"Duh," Alan snorted. 

"And I have a healthy respect for glamour magic, and that right there," she continued as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, pointing at the shirt that John was wearing, "is the most magical thing I've ever seen in my life." 

All three of them burst out laughing, unable to believe what they were hearing. Selene waited patiently for them to finish cackling like they had just cursed Macbeth. 

"Allowing the shirts to live is doing the world, and my arrest record, a huge favour. Now, if you'll excuse us…" she got to her feet, relieved John of the socks he was busily matching and dragged him to his feet.

"OK, OK, I'll bite," Scott continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What makes you think it's so magical?"

"That should be obvious, nothing short of a miracle could hide that amount of sexiness. Why do you think I'm good with him hiding in Five when he's wearing that space suit?" She dumped the half folded pile of washing back into the hamper.

"I've decided that you lot can sort your own laundry, because I've got the sudden and overwhelming urge to see that shirt on our bedroom floor. Later, fashion rejects."

John put up zero resistance. 

"I love this shirt," he grinned, waving a cheerful goodbye to his stunned brothers as his wife yanked on his hand, towing him bodily from the lounge and on to far more pleasant things than chores.