#im going to crumple these two into a ball and step on them

[ohposhers]

omg floyd constantly stealing Riff's shirts hiiii!!!

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (2) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one

lil bit of a prequel, more to come! childhood sweethearts (2) II a.russo x reader

august 13th, 2011

"come on!" you had barely stepped foot over the threshold of the front door before your best friend had grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you upstairs to her room.

"you're gonna rip my arm off less!" you whined at the sheer force of her excitement, stumbling up the stairs as she'd set the pace, legs much longer than yours as she took the stairs two at a time, the taller girl dragging you along behind her without a second thought.

"do we have to go kick the ball around? im so tired." you sighed, shrugging off your bookbag and placing it down on her floor, flopping down on alessia's bed, relishing in the soft alluring comfort of the mattress.

"yes! i have a game tomorrow afternoon." the girl answered without sparing you a glance, throwing clothes around like a hurricane as she hunted through each and every drawer of her wardrobe.

"you had training last night and tuesday." you pointed out sitting up slightly, the girl ignoring you as she continued to rummage through her clothes.

"less its a friday can't we do something fun?" you groaned, head thumping into her pillow. "you sleep over every friday, and football is fun!" alessia dismissed your complaining, kicking her bag into the corner and yanking off her tie.

"you're making a mess." you stated with a shake of your head, the twelve year old pausing to shoot you a dirty look over her shoulder for the comment. "you're such a loser." the older girl jeered with a roll of her eyes. "you're such a meathead." you shot back, crossing your arms and huffing.

"hurry up and change." a bundle of material hit you in the face, alessia already stripping off her uniform as it joined the mountain of clothes covering her floor. "i have my own clothes." you frowned in distaste at the jersey and shorts which you knew would be far too big for you and reached for your bag.

"do you want to get them dirty?" your best friend challenged with a raised eyebrow as you paused, sighing and retracting your hand. "thats what i thought." alessia smiled happily, disappearing momentarily into her bathroom as you changed, neatly folding up your uniform and setting it down beside your bag.

with a roll of your eyes you started to grab items of clothing off alessia's floor she'd tossed around, putting them back where they belonged. "leave that! suck up." the brunette shook her head, shooing you away and instead halfheartedly kicking all of the clothes across the room, into another now crumpled up pile.

"your mums going to kill you when she gets home." you spoke knowingly, alessia shrugging without a care. "doesn't matter. you can just tidy it up later after she's done with her yelling." your best friend smiled cheekily as you shoved her, though you were both aware that is exactly what would happen.

if opposites attracted then that's why you and alessia were best friends.

you loved to read, head always stuck in a book and eyes eagerly scanning each and every word with baited breath. the bell would ring for the end of class and you'd not even flinch as the rest of your peers sprinted out the door. you were far too busy being spun away to another world with your mind scattered in the clouds, following along the adventures of whatever fictional characters you were paying a visit that day, completely oblivious to everything else going on around you.

alessia hated books. the girls passion was football, if she wasn't kicking a ball around she was day dreaming of a football pitch, the feeling of the grass beneath her feet as she zoomed down the sideline, the roars of the crowd as her laces smacked the ball and it soared away in the air, swooshing into the back of the net. and if it wasn't football then you could always rely on her to seek out any other possible ways to burn off energy, able to outrun any of the boys who dared challenge her to a race, even making some of them cry when she'd shamelessly beat them in an arm wrestle.

you were soft spoken, always polite, raised to be well mannered and treat everyone with kindness whether deserving of it or not. you had always been sensitive and well in tune with your emotions from a young age, hell you'd be upset if someone squashed a lady bug, tears rolling down your cheeks thinking of the family it had inevitably left behind.

your best friend was outgoing in every and all sense of the word, big mouthed, loud and proud in her opinions no matter what they were, always speaking whatever thoughts flew to her mind without any sort of filter to scan the possible repercussions of her words. her emotional response was always messy, rushed, chaotic, often using her sharp tongue or occasionally her fists to settle disputes, though that was the territory that came with growing up with two older brothers.

despite the obvious differences you were drawn to one another like magnets from the first day you met, the yin to one anothers yang, imperfectly balanced.

whenever you'd get upset over something your best friend was by your side in a flash, rubbing circles into the small of your back as her arm would sling over your shoulders, sitting the two of you down and pulling you into a tight side hug.

when your fish died she wrote a speech and organised an entire funeral before the two of you had flushed it down the toilet, the girl holding you tightly and wiping your tears as you both watched him dissapear.

she'd sent murderous glares to her brothers later that night over the dinner table as they teased it was only a fish, almost giving gio a black eye for making you upset again, she may have been smaller than them but she packed a mean punch.

alessia would grab the book from your hands once the bell had gone for lunch, rolling her eyes as she realised you'd not moved an inch beside her, folding the corner of the page to mark your spot despite your fussing over how much you hated the dog eared pages.

the girl alerting you to the time would yank you up and out of your seat, having already packed up your things for you, your bookbag in her other hand as she bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, whinging that everyone else had already left as she'd pull you outside.

she'd drag you to where the two of you always sat, handing you back your book and dropping both your bags at your feet. she'd take a seat beside you and rummage around for her lunch, pulling it out and giving you half her sandwich as you did the same with your own. the brunette would quickly swallow both halves in three bites much to your disgust, chattering away to you with a mouthful of food as she did.

it was then you'd open your book again, settling back into where you'd left off as alessia would sprint away with a handful of crisps she'd snuck from your lunchbox. she'd long given up trying to bug you to join in when she'd play football or rough house around at lunch, content to just leave you to your book where she could still see you.

there were rare occasions where she'd stay with you glued to your side, the two of you sat together playing a card game or she'd ask you to read to her. she might not have been very good with speaking about how she felt, but it was on those days that you knew she wasn't her normal self even if she refused to acknowledge it.

it was those days you'd say you were off to the toilet and make a beeline for the canteen, using your pocket money to buy her a chocolate bar and rushing back, wordlessly slipping it into her bookbag for her to find later on.

though most of the time the bell would go and the cycle would repeat itself all over again, your best friend hurrying over and snatching your book, again folding over the page and grabbing both your bags and your hand. pulling you with her back to the classroom, talking your ear off as you hummed every now and then to show you were listening.

you'd both settle back at your desks, your hand tapping at her knee to stop it bouncing as she came down from the adrenaline of running around for the last half hour. you'd make sure to tilt your work pages so she could read them, copying down your answers with an occasional glance to the board feigning that she was paying any sort of attention.

the two of you spent almost every afternoon at one anothers houses, the routine of your weekly adventures like clockwork. you were forever joined at the hip, following one another around like shadows amusing your parents to no end given just how different the two of you were, and how you used those differences as your greatest strengths to lift one another up, you always had.

"you said we would swap!" you huffed in annoyance, hands on your hips as you stared down your best friend as she readied herself to kick again. "no, i said if you stopped one then we could swap." alessia corrected, taking a few steps back and booting the ball, leaving you to yell out and drop to the ground as it narrowly missed smacking you in the head.

"you know this used to be funny to watch, now its just sad." the young striker sighed as she collected the ball and tucked it under her arm, grabbing your top and hauling you to your feet, brushing off the dirt from your knees.

"why do i need to be your target practice? i could be reading while you do this, if im not stopping anything what use am i as a keeper?" you protested, quickly jumping to the side as she fired off another shot which swooshed into the back of the net behind you.

"god you and your books, such a dork." alessia groaned, jogging over to grab the ball again. "i need to practice shooting as if there was a keeper there, its why they use practice dummies at training for the same thing." she explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"i bet if they printed a book on a football you might be able to read it for once you idiot." you grumbled in annoyance, your best friend pausing her wind up to narrow her eyes. "what was that?" alessia challenged and you recognized the look she was giving you.

"no come on it was a harmless comment, less!" you yelled as the brunette charged toward you, tackling you easily to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "get off!" you demanded as she sat on top of you, your hands pinned under her knees.

"say sorry for calling me an idiot!" "no! you are an idiot!" "fine then, you brought this on yourself." "don't you dare-alessia!" you yelled out, thrashing under her as the girl bent down to spit on the ground, mixing it with her fingers to create a saliva based mud from the dirt. "you're so gross, please don't!" "say sorry then." the girl grinned wickedly, collecting some mud on her hand and hovering it over your face teasingly.

"alessia get off of her right now! you are worse than your brothers sometimes." saved by the bell. the bell being carol russo, your angel and saviour. the older woman stood on the back deck waiting expectantly for the two of you, hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently.

"its getting dark, time to come inside. get a move on girls!" alessia rolled her eyes at her mums calls and wiped her hand on your top, which was technically hers anyway, rolling off of you. "i hate you!" you shoved at her as you sat up and grimaced in disgust at the large handmark on your top.

"you love me." you gasped as you felt something wet on your cheek, alessia wiping a fingerfull of mud on your face. you let out a strangled war cry and tackled her back to the ground, carol sighing with a shake of her head as the two of you rolled around wrestling like boys, alessia whining as you wiped your cheek on her.

"dinners almost done, come on!" at that you both shot to your feet, racing one another inside, sprinting past the woman who couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. as much as alessia gently bullied you sometimes, she was also your most fierce protector, never afraid to unleash fury on anyone who dared even try to pick on you.

and as much as she adored football, her favourite parts of your friday nights together was staying up late watching movies, huddled together under the blankets giggling and talking in hushed voices until the early hours of the morning, sneaking downstairs for snacks and pretending to be asleep when one of her parents would hear the footsteps and come to check on you.

you'd both lay still under the duvet and hold your breath, playing a dangerous game as you struggled with every fibre of your being not to burst out in laughter, hands tightly squeezed together as you waited till her door clicked close again before collapsing on top of one another giggling, hands quickly covering one anothers mouth as you'd hear her parents sternly warn you both of the time through the closed door.

as infuriating as you both could be as a double act, it had warmed both your parents heart to watch such a special and sincere friendship blossom between you both over the years, which in turn lead to your families being incredibly close as well, your older siblings not too far off alessia's brothers in age.

which is why when you'd both so suddenly stopped seeing one another, stopped mentioning each other, switching the subject when the other was brought up, seemingly erasing yourselves from one anothers lives without a second thought it baffled your families to no end.

they'd of course asked why and inquired about what happened countless amounts of times and you'd both used and abused the excuse that you'd just drifted apart once you left school.

but the truth of the matter was yet another secret only to be shared between the two of you, this one leaving a bitter taste in both your mouths.

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

part three

[goosefruit]

underneath the christmas tree

vanessa shelly x fem!reader

tw: smut, sub!reader, praise kink, vanessa eats it from the back, fingering, sex toy/vibrator use

a/n: im sorry if this is ass ive had terrible writer's block for like the past two weeks help

Pressing down on the last piece of tape, you let out a little ‘aha!’ as you adjusted the material around your body. You took a long look in the mirror, admiring the result of your work.

Nothing except two pieces of wrapping paper covered your top and bottom halves, patterns of snowflakes on a red background. Of course, you made sure to cut away enough paper to show off your cleavage. A dainty pink bow was glued on the makeshift ‘bra’ to top it all off. 

Everything was held together messily by cheap tape, but that didn’t really matter; the outfit was made to be torn apart anyways. 

You looked like a real present. 

For the past forty-five minutes, you had been working on this bizarre scheme that you had thought to be so hilarious. Vanessa was taking one of her hour-long showers, giving you a perfect period of time to take advantage of. 

You heard the shower turn off and quickly rushed to take your place beneath the Christmas tree. 

Though there were still a couple of days to go until Christmas Day, presents were already stacked in neat piles around the base of the tree. At least a quarter of them were from Vanessa to you, who loved to spoil you with her cop money. 

Vanessa stepped out of the washroom in her bathrobe, damp hair draped across her shoulders.

“Woah! Did Santa come early this year?” A playful grin took over her face as she caught sight of you on your knees under the tree. 

“This exactly what you wished for?” You asked her sweetly, feigning innocence despite being half-naked. 

“Mhm,” she leaned down to kiss you. Fresh out of the shower, you could smell a combination of her shampoo, body wash, and lotion. You moaned softly against her lips and pulled her down so that she was on the ground with you. 

Her hands began to wander on your body, nails lightly scratching your bare back. With that, you felt her tongue enter your mouth, and you knew that she was getting impatient for more. 

“Unwrap me,” your voice was barely a whisper. 

In one effortless motion, Vanessa ripped your top in half, letting it fall to the floor. She did not waste a second before cupping your breasts in her hands, squeezing and massaging them. You sucked on the tip of her tongue to let her know how much you were enjoying it. 

Without breaking the kiss, she scooped you up in her arms and carried you to the rug in front of the fireplace. Here, you didn’t have to worry about knocking anything over. 

Her mouth eventually found itself on your breast, licking a stripe up your cleavage. Squeals and whines spewed out of you as she sucked hickeys into your soft skin. 

“So pretty, my love,” Her breath tickled against your collarbone. “Such perfect tits, and you wrapped them up so well for me.”

Fuck, her praises made you so wet. 

“You sound so adorable too. All I want to do is make you whine and moan all day, touching those beautiful tits however you want me to. Think you can be louder for me?”

You nodded swiftly, meeting her lustful eyes.

“Good girl.”

An embarrassingly loud moan slipped out between your lips. 

“Now, let’s see what else we got here.” She slipped her fingers under the remaining wrapping paper and pulled it off your hips, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it god knows where.

Your pussy practically gleamed in the light, folds slick with arousal. You couldn’t help but thrust your hips up in a desperate need for any kind of friction. 

Vanessa gasped with mock-astonishment. “How did you know that this was at the top of my wishlist?” 

You gave her a light slap on the arm for her sarcasm. 

Now, you were in a position where you laid on your back with her on top of you. Her fingers brushed over the top of your pussy. Your sore, needy pussy. 

“I can’t believe this pretty cunt is all mine. Did me playing with your tits get you this wet?” Her hands wrapped around the back of your calves and placed your legs over her shoulders. You shivered as her damp hair stuck to your sensitive inner thighs. 

“Vanessa, touch me please,” you needed to feel her tongue before you passed out from arousal.

“Oh look sweetie, your pussy’s getting wetter, all for me! It’s practically gushing out of you, my needy girl,” she pressed kisses down your thighs, neglecting the part where you needed her most. “I wanna get a taste of that sweet nectar.”

“Just p-please, I need you. Please, please, please, Vanessa.” 

“However, I do have a better idea. On all fours for me, sweetheart.”

You groaned at your pleasure being delayed for even a second longer, but obliged as you had no other choice. Vanessa went behind you, firmly gripping both of your thighs. “What a perfect view,” she sighed lovingly. Before you had time to process, she buried her face in your soaked heat, nails digging into your skin. She pulled you closer to her by the legs, and you yelped as you felt her tongue on your clit after that agonizing wait. 

“Y-yes baby! Fuck— just like that.” You screamed at the top of your lungs. If losing your voice was what it took for her to keep going, you were gladly ready to make the sacrifice.

Vanessa slipped two fingers inside of you, then adding a third when she decided that you were turned on enough to easily take all three. She curled them rhythmically, alternating with strokes of her tongue against your throbbing clit. It was almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm was building up, but every move your girlfriend made brought you closer to the inevitable.

“Just like that, feels so good. God it feels so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You wailed, squeezing your eyes shut. You prayed with all your might that Vanessa was feeling generous enough to let you cum straight away tonight. 

“What a good girl. You taste amazing, I can’t get enough.” She grabbed at your ass, leaving a red imprint. “Cum when you’re ready, m’kay my dear? ‘M not going to be mean tonight, you’ve been such a good girl.”

The “thank you” that you meant to say was lost amongst a long string of moans and profanities as you finally reached your climax. Thrusting your core onto her tongue, arousal gushed out into her mouth and all over her fingers. You didn’t know how long it was until your legs stopped shaking.

“You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you,” Vanessa scooped you up in her arms and held you against her chest, which was rising up and down quickly as she, too, tried to catch her breath.

After a brief moment, she set you down to grab something from the tree.

“Since I got to open an early present today, I thought it would only be fair for you to open one of your own too.” 

She handed you a box, wrapped with blue paper and white ribbon. 

You almost choked when you saw what was inside.

A light pink G-spot vibrator——it seemed rather expensive too, with various different settings built in. 

Vanessa helped you take it out of its packaging, knowing your hands were still shaky from your orgasm. As you examined the toy, she untied her robe and threw it aside, leaving you with a breathtaking view of her naked body. 

“Allow me to give you a demo.”

Taking the toy, she pressed herself against you irresistibly. Her nipples were hard and erect, toned abs flexing as she rolled her hips onto you. The stickiness on her lips tasted of your pleasure.

She lined the silicone up with your entrance, pushing half of it in before turning on the vibrations. You moaned as it found your sweet spot, throwing your head back in ecstasy. 

“Feels good, hmm?” Vanessa hummed, slowly rocking the toy up and down inside of you. “Got some pretty friggin’ great reviews online. Maybe you could leave your own after.” 

Her ability to talk so casually while fucking you never failed to turn you on. Your stomach flipped nonstop, a knot tightening in your core. 

She turned the vibrator up a setting and positioned the handle along her slit.

The noises she let out as she ground her clit against the silicone were sinful, moans and whimpers laced with pure lust. She kept a hand on the toy, now drawing small circles on your g-spot. 

“You gonna cum, baby? Is my princess gonna cum?” Her breathing was harsh and ragged as she began to seek her own high. 

“Ye— turn it up another s-setting, please!” 

She did what you asked, and was rewarded by a huge spurt of squirt splattering all over her thighs. You cried out her name hoarsely as you came, limbs spasming like crazy. 

“You’re so fucking hot, good fucking girl. Squirting all over me like that, gonna make me cum, holy shit.” 

Another roll of her hips, and Vanessa finished with a silent scream. 

It was a rare sight, seeing her lose control like that—back arching, eyebrows knitted, eyes rolling back, and mouth wide open. You loved it.

When she was stable enough to stand, she got up to retrieve her bathrobe and covered the two of you with it. The fireplace softly crackled in the background, radiating heat. 

You laid with your eyes closed as she spooned you from behind, feeling so warm, so loved, and so very grateful.

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb   @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts​

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[allthingskakashi]

• Bells and Balls •

[ Kakashi x Reader ]

Tags : NSFW, Smut

Words : 4.8k

A/n: I wrote over 4k words just to get some dick.

Okay sbsbajash idk I'd been working on this for like a whole week and i couldn't concentrate on anything unless i finished this lmao so here it is whatever, I can't drag this around anymore. Uhhh hope you like it I'm still not very good at writing smut im sorry. This takes place in the post Anbu and pre team 7 era and Kakashi’s a bit of an asshole but you know you still love him. This is also a little similar to my other fic ‘Yearning’ but here you get the s e x and i’m sorry if the characterization is bad, i put more focus on making it hot i guess ok ill shut up now i hope you like it

You give the sheet of paper in your hand one final glance, and look around the room. There’s a long line behind you and you’re surrounded by your fellow jounins, each here to submit their respective lists.

You were extremely happy with the performance of your team and didn’t have to think twice before passing them. You had no doubt that they would make wonderful shinobi. You looked forward to teaching and guiding them, and judging by the chatter around you, most other jounins had passed their teams too.

The trouble, however, remains with Kakashi Hatake.

A few weeks ago, you had all been named squad leaders and put in charge of a squad, and today was your very first day with your assigned teams. As instructed, each of you conducted a test for the genin and depending upon whether they passed or failed, the final list would be announced.

No one till date had ever passed Kakashi Hatake's infamous test, and everyone was sure that no one would this year either. Most genin trembled in fear of him, being aware of his strict methods.

And as it happens, at this moment, this infamous man is right in front you, standing with his back hunched forward as he hands his paper in to the woman behind the desk.

You wait for your turn, your eyes fixating on the red symbol on his vest as you wonder, ruefully, about the fate of the students he must have failed this time.

You take a step forward as he turns around, having submitted his paper, and the line moves up behind you.

Kakashi peeks briefly at your paper as he passes, letting out an audible scoff at the list in your hand before walking on ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You’re momentarily confused by this sudden act, but something is already starting to boil up inside you. You aren’t exactly known for being placid, nor for sitting by and allowing people to give you crap. Your eyebrows furrow as you hastily thrust your sheet onto the desk, before making your way to follow after him.

“Do you have a problem?” you call to his back as a few heads turn towards you.

He stops, taking his time turning back to look at you, half lidded eyes looking as indifferent as always.

His demeanour pushes you further to the edge and you take a few steps closer, craning your neck to meet his eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

He peers down at you unfazed, completely oblivious to the audience around you, as if they are not even there.

“You’re too soft”, he shrugs. “You don’t know how the shinobi world works” he says bluntly, piercing you with his unwavering gaze.

You glare back at him, your mouth twitching with the sled of retorts forming at the back of your tongue.

“Who gave you the right to—"

But he’s already turning away from you, your eyes meeting with the red symbol of his vest once again.

“Hey don’t you fucking walk away from me!” you yell, going forward to stop him, but he saunters on ahead without turning back; his scent lingering in the air as you stand there, watching his figure disappear slowly along the hallway, your fury seething inside you.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

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

 “Thank you! This is just what I needed.” you chime, digging into the hot bowl of ramen in front of you, your mouth salivating just at the look of it.

You take a big mouthful, revelling in the immediate burst of flavours on your tongue.

“Mmmm.” You moan, “You’ve outdone yourself, Ayame!”

The young girl smiles at you in delight, proceeding to serve you another helping.

You take another blissful bite, closing your eyes to relish the moment.

The streets are quiet around you except for the faint chirp of crickets, as is expected at this hour of the night. It must be past midnight by now, you’re not exactly sure.

You had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason, the encounter with Kakashi from earlier today had you feeling bitter and edgy. You hated that he was in your head, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you to be this bothered by some mindless comments from someone. You’d had altercations before, worse ones, but they were never enough to steal away your night’s sleep.

And yet, this time…

You had to do something to take the edge off, ideally punch him in the face, but since that was not the plausible choice, you settled for the next best thing. Going for a run and treating yourself to your favourite comfort food later.  

So here you are now, out at night all by yourself. The Ichiraku shop was still open, bless the lords.

You slurp some of the soup from the bowl and let out a loud smack of your lips.

You can feel your spirits lifting, and you’re glad for it. He wasn’t in your head after all, you were just having a bad day, that’s all.

You shift your focus back to the bowl in front of you, moaning and slurping as you go.

“Whoa there, Get a room.”

The sudden interruption of the familiar voice makes you stop cold.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look up from your bowl, turning your head around to see none other than Kakashi Hatake, standing smug in all his glory.

The strange pang of bitterness is back in the depths of your stomach and you resist the urge to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, if it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the all-knowing wisenheimer.” you say, your tone snide. “Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some genin to fail?”

He comes around to take a seat on the stool beside you, a smirk evident through his mask, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“I’ve already failed them” he smiles sweetly at you. “Worked up quite an appetite too.” He says, looking away from you to place his order.

You notice as Ayame notes his order down, the distinct shade of pink that tinges her cheeks as does, before turning away and disappearing into the supplies room at the back of the shop.

Ugh. What is with this guy? Why is it so….

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he looks back at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. You supress your startlement at being caught, pretending as if you’d meant to be glaring at him.

“What the hell are you even doing out here so late?” you spurt, trying to sound irritated but it comes out sounding almost…concerned?

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. “I could ask you the same.”

You look away, unwilling to answer. You were out here to get him out of your head, and now here you are, sitting beside him in a ramen shop while the entire village sleeps.

It almost feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The feeling makes something churn inside your stomach.

You dab your mouth with your napkin, before swivelling on the stool to face him. You look at him intently, studying his features. He stares back at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Why?” you ask, catching him off guard with it.

“Why what?”

“Why does no one pass your test? What’s so difficult about it?” you ask, gaze fixated on him. You expect him to look uncomfortable but he just shrugs.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious” you reply truthfully, watching him smirk at your answer.  

You hate it when he smirks, how his face looks when he’s being cocky.

Ugh.

He swivels in his chair now, turning his body towards you. “Is that so?”, he says through the smirk, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning in.

You don’t know why, but something about his tone and the way he leans in makes it difficult for you to breathe all of a sudden.

But you’re not one to be fazed.

“Yes” you reply, refusing to let yourself crumple under his gaze. Your voice comes out sounding hoarse, and you clear your throat.

He smirks wider at your reply and stretches the next words out.

“If you’re so curious…Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Your heart thuds like clapper clanging against a bell. You resist the urge to gulp.

Was it this hot when I left the house?

You clear your throat again. “I don’t have the time to take part in your stupid games”

The smirk is adamant on his lips, his gaze unnerving.

He breathes, “Do you not have the time…or do you not have the balls?”

His tone is challenging. Or inviting. Or both, you’re not really sure, you’re not thinking straight anymore.

Your jacket is too hot against your skin, you writhe beneath the thick material.

Sliding off the stool, you walk slowly towards him, erasing the space in between you bit by bit with each step, until your bodies are a few inches away from touching. Your eyes bore into each other’s as if in silent battle. It’s your turn to smirk now.

“Training Grounds in 20 mins” you whisper. Despite the hitch in your breath, your voice is clear. “Don’t be late.”

You walk past him without breaking your gaze, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you walk by, perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving Kakashi to stare after you.

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

You sit on the damp grass with your back against a tree, waiting. Your jacket lies in a puddle beside you.

You count the weapons in your bag, you hadn’t exactly come out prepared for a fight tonight. Two kunai knives, that’s all.

Would that be enough to take down the copy ninja? You hope so. There’s no way you’re letting him win. It’s time someone taught him a lesson and you would love to be that someone. The nerve of him…to actually challenge you.

He really needs to get a life. But then, here you are too…

Why am I here? What am I even doing?

You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the hard bark, your eyebrows furrowing the way they always do when you’re deep in thought.

Back at the shop… the way he spoke…the look in his eyes— God, Stop. Stop it.

Who the fuck cares about the look in his eyes?

Not me.

It’s okay. I’m good.

We’re here to teach this asshole a lesson. An asshole, that’s what he is. Insufferable and stupid and smug and ridiculously ho— horrible. Ridiculously horrible.

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes and standing up so fast that it makes your head dizzy for a brief second. You start walking around, jerking your arms and legs, stretching your neck, even slapping yourself a few times on the face to make yourself focus.

Yes, I need to focus. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

You crouch down to tighten your shoelaces, before getting up and starting some stretching exercises. Gotta loosen the muscles, make sure you have full flexibility. After all, taking on Kakashi Hatake all by yourself is probably not going to be a piece of cake.

You look down to check your attire: running shorts and a tank top, not fully ideal but it’ll do.

You’re bent over, in the midst of doing rotating toe touches when your eyes fall upon a silhouette far ahead, nearing closer and closer. You pause, standing up straight with your hands on your hips as the figure walks slowly towards you, a faint jingling noise ringing through the air, as Kakashi finally comes near enough for you to make out his face in the dim light.

“Late as always” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kakashi stands a few feet away from you, holding something in one hand, other hand inside his pocket. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore either, you observe.

“Sorry, had to go get this” he says, holding up what looks like two small bells with strings attached.

You squint at it, coming closer to get a better look. “What the hell is that?”

“Bells”, he smiles. “That’s the test. You have to get these bells from me. You can use any attack you want but… since you’re not a genin, I’ll raise the stakes a little higher for you. You cannot use ninjutsu or genjustu. It has to be purely physical attacks. You have till dawn.”

This little fucker. He knows taijutsu is not my strong point.

But fine. If that’s how he wants to play this, so be it. I’m taking him down one way or another.

“Dawn?” you chuckle, fixing him with your gaze. “I don’t need till dawn” you sneer, coming forward with a kick aimed to his head. He blocks it just as you’re about to make contact, grasping your ankle in his strong hold.

“I didn’t say start yet” he says through a smirk, letting go of your foot.

You take a few steps backwards, glowering at him as he ties the bells to a loop on his trousers. They hang over his thighs with a jingle, silver metal glimmering in the moonlight.

He looks back up at you, eyes twinkling with an unusual sparkle.

There’s that look again…

“Go” he commands, his body tensing up into a defensive stance immediately, ready for you.

You fix your gaze on the shiny metal of your goal and hurl yourself forward, your arms meeting each other’s in blows and defences. You throw a few kicks to his stomach, making him tumble but not enough to knock him out.

You shift your stance, before directing another punch to his face; he deflects it, sniggering.

Okay okay okay, I’m not focusing. I need to focus.

You take a deep breath.

Kakashi stands waiting, his features emanating pure amusement.

You feel a restlessness brewing within you, a strange energy buzzing through your veins. You’d been itching to punch him in the face and now’s your chance.

You watch him, mentally calculating all your options. His silver hair shines like moonbeams in the dark.

FOCUS.

Drawing a kunai from your bag, you lunge forward, distracting him with a kick to the head as your kunai slashes through the air, just about to cut across the strings when— your hand is caught in his grasp, a ‘slap!’ cutting through the air as his palm clasps around your wrist.

He bores into you, your wrist held firmly in his hand as he turns you around swiftly, gripping both your wrists at the back.

You feel the muscles of his chest against your body as he comes closer, the metal bells hanging over his leg brushing against your fingertips behind you.

You wriggle your hands, trying to break free but it’s in vain. His grip is firm, slender fingers digging into your skin as he leans into your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Not so fast” he whispers, his lips almost brushing the top of your ears.

The words send a shudder through your spine. You feel the black sky closing in on you, there’s a hum springing through your veins.

He loosens his grip as your hands fall, the kunai held limply in your hand. You turn around, your heart skipping a beat at how close he is to you. You feel your resolve weakening.

No.

No.

Stop.

Your hand flies to the collar of his shirt, the other hand holding the kunai to his throat as you push him backwards with your body, your eyes blazing into his.  

Keeping the kunai at his throat, you lower your other hand slowly, brushing it down his chest, his muscles taut under your hand. You trail your hand down along the line of his sternum, down the firmness of his stomach and further down, your fingers lightly caressing the bulge of his trousers before they almost make contact with the bells alongside, right there, just a flick away—

so close—

Before your wrist is caught in a sudden, fast clutch again.

His grip is much stronger this time, unyielding, hungry. Your bones ache beneath his hold.  

You watch something ignite in his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm to your heaves. You suddenly realise how out of breath you are.

In the flash of a moment, Kakashi grips your kunai holding hand, holding it away from his throat as he pushes you, the weight of his body pressing onto yours as your feet scrape along the ground, stumbling backwards till your back slams against a tree, the force making your body jolt. The kunai slips from your hand.

His arms pin you defenceless against the tree, his gaze holding you hostage, burning through your skin.

The touch of his skin against yours feels alien. When was the last time you felt the warmth of someone’s skin? You cannot recall.

He’s so close to you, you cannot see anything beyond him.

In the dark, under the moonlight, the edges of his face look softened.

A wind passes by, the sound of rustling leaves filling through the silence. A volcano erupts within you.

Now.

You gulp. Up this close, you can make out the outline of his mouth.

Now.

Your lips press into Kakashi’s in a desperate lurch, your neck straining to meet him as far as his grip on you allows. Your heart explodes like firecrackers inside your chest as your tongue pushes against the cloth of his mask, demanding to be let in.

You feel his grip loosen around your wrists as the mask is off and he reciprocates, his lips on yours, his hand gripping your chin up as his tongue moves in fervent swirls inside your mouth.

A thousand questions swarm inside your head, buzzing but you’re not being controlled by your head anymore. You can feel the thud of his chest against your own.

He trails his hand down to your throat, holding you in place, other hand exploring every edge and curve of your body before it snakes down the waistband of your shorts, down the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp, arching your back as you feel the touch of his long fingers down there, moaning helplessly into his mouth as he rubs along your wet entrance in rapid strokes.

Your head is a dizzy mess of jumbled emotions as yearning overpowers your senses, your previous resolve weakening into a mushy puddle with every stroke and thrum of his fingers inside you.

He pulls away from your mouth to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, his tongue painting patterns along your skin as you catch a glimpse of his face and you see it— his face, glowing under the moonlight. And you realise.

He’s…beautiful.

An overwhelming ache breaks through your senses, creating a frenzied whirlwind of passion and agony in your mind. Your detestation for him crumbles into pieces underneath the weight of your desire, as you realise…

You don’t hate him.

You never did.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You pull his face up to meet your lips again, planting urgent kisses on his mouth as your hands tease the hem of his shirt. His fingers slip out of you and you can feel the wetness of your panties, soaked through with arousal.

“Kakashi…” you whisper in pleasure as he looms over you, your foreheads touching, out of breath and heaving with exhilaration. His eyes burn with the same passion that you feel inside.

“We can’t…shouldn’t…here…people...” you mutter in struggled breaths, as he plants another kiss to your lips, the sparks from it fogging your mind

“Since when do you care about people?” he whispers against your ear, his raspy voice enough to strip you off of all your remaining sense and judgement.

You pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground beside as he follows, taking off your shirt and then unhooking your bra, tossing both away as his hands reach for you in hungry clutches.

His hands caress your breasts, pressing them and pulling on your hardened nipples, his mouth following soon after. His lips lock around them, sucking hard as you bury your face into his broad shoulders, biting lightly to keep yourself from screaming.

You sink your fingers into his hair, tugging softly as his mouth moves in a wet trail further down your body, strands of his hair tickling your stomach as he goes, his hands tugging your panties, sliding them down the curves of your hips.

Your heart thuds in your ears as Kakashi sits crouching in front of you, parting your legs. He looks up at you, as if asking for your permission, and you give it to him by pulling the back of his head closer between your legs.

He puts your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you for him, his other hand clutching the back of your left thigh as his mouth teases you down there.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your entrance, before it finds your weakest spot, and you feel your body shuddering, barely able to keep your balance.

You tug at his hair harder as his tongue moves skilfully inside you, fingers rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously. You feel every nerve ending in your body come alive as you moan out his name “K-Kakashi…” through trembling lips.

Your insides shudder and a deep moan forms at the back of your throat, threatening to escape as Kakashi puts his hand over your mouth, before pulling you down on top of him with a sudden tug.  

You come down with a thud on his thighs, your body jolting with the force as you watch him in front of you, the copy ninja… bare bodied and heaving in front of your eyes.

Who would have thought…

You straddle him, admiring his unclad torso, before pushing his shoulders down with your hands, making him lie back on the grass as you stoop over him. His eyes are fixated on you, pure pleasure making itself known on his face.

He really is beautiful.

You bend forward, your mouth exploring the smoothness of the skin on his chest, as a strange cold feeling down there distracts you.

You look down, squinting in the dark to find yourself sitting on two glimmering metal balls placed over his thigh.

The bells.

A thrill runs through your nerves as you smirk, glancing up at him.

He’s noticed it too.

His eyes return the same sparkle of mischief as yours as he lies still, waiting.

You press your hands down on his chest, locking your gaze with his as you position yourself over the bells, tilting your head back as you move back and forth over them.

The cold metal of the bells rubs against you, sending tremors through your entire body.

Your gaze at Kakashi again, watching him squirm at the sight of you, his hands twitching to feel your skin.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide down slightly on his thigh, tugging his trousers down as you go. Your hands find the base of his cock as you allow yourself to admire his throbbing length.

He leans his head back on the grass and you feel him getting harder in your hands.

Forming your hand into a fist around him, you move it up and down along his shaft in slow steady strokes, leaning down to bring your mouth closer to his tip, before swirling your tongue in circles around his skin.

His hips tremble as he clutches onto the grass, writhing.

Your lips clasp around his cock, mouth slurping up and down his length, taking your time sliding down to the base and back up, your hands following suit.

You tease him, switching between the tip of your tongue and your whole mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

He quivers and you sit back up, bending forward over his face and pressing your lips on his. A groan from his mouth erupts inside yours as he clutches your hips.

His hands guide your hips back and forth over his length, your lips trembling as he slips into you, his cock finally inside you, pushing into you, filling you as deep as you can be filled.

A new rush of pleasure burns through your senses, your insides stretching as you move your hips around him, back and forth and then in circles.

“A-a-ah...mm…yeah…”, your muffled moans cut through the depths of the forest in the silence of the night.

Kakashi breathes your name, the eruption of your name from his lips enough to send you to a frenzy, filling your heart with drunken fervour.

You moan his name back in reply, hopping up and down on him as his arm snakes behind your waist and he flips you over in a sudden, swift movement, the weight of his body falling over you now.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, unwilling to break away even for a second.

You want him so, so bad.

The pointy peaks of grass underneath poke your skin, your nails digging into his back as he nibbles on your neck, thrusting deep, deep into you.

You feel the familiar shudder from earlier again, your mind getting clouded with waves of pleasure coursing through you. Kakashi’s grunts quaver in your ear as you feel his hips jerk in tune to yours.

There’s a tantalizing jolt of ecstasy through your body as you scream out, your quivering voice matching his grunts as you both put a hand over the other’s mouth, your muffled moans melting into each other’s skin. He quivers inside you for a final time before you feel him slipping out of you, as hot wet cum trickles along the insides of your thighs, dripping into the dewy grass beneath.

Droplets of sweat from his hair drips down on you, tasting salty in your mouth. You heave together in exhaustion as he plops down on you, before rolling to the side.

You lie on your back panting, your entire body damp with sweat.

Languor threatens to take over you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, looking up into the night sky.

You see a firefly glowing above your head. You lift a lazy hand to reach it, but it flies away far above, becoming one with the twinkling stars in the sky.

Soft sounds of Kakashi’s breath echo beside you, his foot still touching yours lightly as the both of you lie heaving under the stars.

He turns his head to look at you and you can feel his eyes on you as you try, with all the fibres in your body, to not look back at him.

You know you won’t be able to hold yourself together any longer if you do.

He extends a hand towards you. “That was…”

“Sshhh… Shut up” you say in a slumberous whisper, moving closer into his arm, putting your own around him, your head buried into chest as you feel your eyes getting heavy…not able to stay awake anymore. You feel Kakashi envelope you in his arms, the warmth from his skin against the cold air lulling you to sleep, your mind becoming foggy as you close your eyes, slowly drifting off somewhere far, far away…

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

Your eyes open to the chirping of birds perched on the branches above, rays of morning light casting a rosy glow in the horizon.

You watch the half light in the distance, rubbing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The night had taken with it the black clouds of denial fogging your mind, your heart is as clear as day now.

You turn your head just in time to see Kakashi opening his eyes, his eyes puffy, imprints of grass marking his soft cheek.

You smile at him as he looks at you, lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Good morning” he yawns, tapping over his mouth with his palm.

“I won.”

“Hmm?” he asks groggily, eyes still adjusting to the light.

You hold up the two small bells in front of him, they jingle over his face.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. It’s past dawn”

“I took them off before. I won.”

He laughs again, his face lighting up in a way you’d never seen before. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

“In all fairness y/n, there are no losers here.”

You laugh along with him now, reaching across and smoothening the imprints on his cheek, keeping your hand there, cupping his cheek.

“So, I passed?” you ask, looking at him, inching closer.

He looks back at you, with the same look from earlier in his eyes.

But you’re not turning yourself blind to it anymore.

“Top of the class” he laughs, pulling you closer, nuzzling your nose with his before pressing his lips into yours.

Notes :-

Did I quote 10 Things I Hate About You on a Kakashi Smut?

Yes, yes i did.

[ghastspidergwen]

I love @doctorsiren's dadskall au, and I thought I'd write a little fic about it. basically, the dadskall au is where xisuma and ex (alex)'s dad is doomguy, but some sort of accident/crazy magic/whatever made him and iskall share a body, go check out doctor siren for the whole story, she has great art, too!

disclaimers (you can completely ignore this section if you want): I have played about 15 minutes total of all the Doom games, read none of the books, seen none of the movies, but the ost is great, so this will probably be ooc for doomguy. xisuma and alex are more based on the featherweight au versions, not the real hermitcraft versions. this story is not part of the dadskall au nor any of dr siren's other aus, it's just a break for me to write some fluff. it takes place ~3-4 years after where fw currently is (s7 election era) but is not set in the fw au world. link to the post part of this is based on. ...and I think that's everything, onto the fic!

.

Xisuma took a deep breath, “I think dad’s alive.”

“You said you saw him die,” Alex, previously known as Evil Xisuma, said, turning to his brother, “They told me he died”

“He wasn’t exactly dead, it’s hard to explain. It’s more like...the horcruxes in Harry Potter. When dad died, I think there was some magic at play that made it so his ‘soul’ transferred into the nearest healthy, person. And I think I found them.”

“Uh-huh, and who might that be?”

“HALLO!” Iskall burst in, “What did you need me for?”

“Iskall? Seriously?”

“He was there that night and I have no reason to believe-”

“You really think Iskall-”

“It’s my best guess, everyone else was injured, and the magic had to choose the nearest healthy person, so it must be Iskall.”

“What must be Iskall?”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Iskall?”

“No, Iskall86,” Xisuma said, sarcastically, “Of course this Iskall, how many Iskalls do we know?”

“I still have no idea what we’re talking about, can -”

“No!” The void brothers turned to him and responded in sync. Xisuma pulled his brother into a side room, “Stay right there, thanks Iskall.”

“What?”

Xisuma exhaled and closed the door behind them, “Phew, OK, I have reason to believe that 13 years ago, Iskall was present the night that dad-y’know-and since everyone else there was either corrupted or injured, as the only uninjured person, dad’s spirit ended up inhabiting his body, but’s been so weak that it was only using Iskall as a means of staying alive, not influencing him or trying to take control of his body at all. Do you get me?”

“A little.”

“And I think I know the spell that will separate them, and give dad his old body back,” They went back into the main room with Iskall, “Should I do it now?”

“Blast ‘im,” Alex backed out of the room, putting a protective wall between him and the magic.

“WHAT?!”

A glowing green ball of energy swirled between Xisuma’s hands, and Iskall backed into the wall, “H-hey Xisuma, what are you doing?”

“This...shouldn’t hurt.”

Iskall held up a hand in a stop gesture, “SHOULDN’T?!”

Xisuma blasted him with the magic. Iskall glowed green, floated into the sir, then split into two people who fell down.

“I...think it...worked,” Xisuma muttered, collapsing to the floor.

Doomguy looked up, and noticed someone lying, unmoving, on the floor. His saving-people instincts kicked in, and he pulled himself over to the person. “C'mon, don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” he said, shaking them.

Someone was shaking Iskall. He sat up and opened his eyes, “Holy heck, it’s Doomguy!”

“You’re alive!” Doomguy said relieved, and pulled Iskall into a hug.

Absolutely starstruck, Iskall sat there, frozen. It’s Doomguy, I love Doom, Doomguy is right here, and he’s hugging me, it’s Doomguy! Iskall’s mind looped.

Pulling out of the hug, Iskall spotted Xisuma crumpled on the floor, “W-wait, I got-gotta check on my friend.”

Doomguy turned around, and spotted his son on the floor.

“Xisuma!” He stood up and stumbled toward him.

“Wait, you know Xisuma?”

“He’s my son. Well, your son, too. Our son.”

“Wha-”

“Short answer, I am you. You are me. We’re the same person.”

Looking at his hands, one thought crossed Iskall’s mind, I’m Doomguy. It was closely followed by “I HAVE A SON?”

“Two sons.”

“TWO SONS? And one of them is dying!” Iskall sprinted across the room and cradled Xisuma’s head, “I don’t know what to do!”

“Health potion?” Doomguy suggested.

“Oh, yeah,” Pulling a potion of healing out of his inventory, Iskall splashed it onto Xisuma. He held his breath and waited to see if it would work.

Xisuma opened his eyes. He sat up.

“Dad!” He jumped up, and buried his face in his dad’s chest plate, giving him a hug the same way he did when he was younger.

“I’m your dad, too,” Iskall said.

“You know?” Xisuma asked, breaking off the hug.

“Yeah, Doomguy told me. So give your poppa a hug,” Iskall uncrossed his arms and gave a very confused Xisuma a hug.

“Oh, OK,” Xisuma awkwardly pat Iskall’s back until he stepped away.

“Is Alex here?” Doomguy asked.

“He should be right outside, he didn’t want to be in the same room as an untested spell.”

“Wait, you didn’t test it? Then why did you cast it on me?” Iskall asked, panicked.

“How many people do we know that have another person living inside them?”

“Wels/Hels, I’m pretty sure Ren did for a while, a pregnant lady,” Iskall ticked off on his fingers.

“Different circumstances. Wels and Hels are one person, like two sides of a coin, Ren-I don’t know what happened with Grimdog or The Red King or whatever, but I definitely don’t want to mess with those, and did you just compare yourself to a pregnant woman?”

“Uhhh...nevermind.”

“You said Alex was just outside?”

“Yeah,” Xisuma pulled the door open, to reveal Alex sitting on a bench outside, drumming his fingers against the seat

“Did it work?”

“Yeah.” Stepping out of the doorway, Xisuma revealed their dad standing behind him.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Dad?”

“It’s me,” Doomguy sat next to his other son.

“Dad!” Alex hugged him, and they pulled Xisuma into the hug after a second. They sat there before the hug was interrupted by another pair of arms joining in.

“Family, together again,” Iskall sighed.

“What’s up with him?” Alex asked, glancing at Iskall.

“I’m part of the family, call me Dadskall.”

“OK...Dadskall, can we have awhile alone with our dad?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. See you later.” Iskall trudged out of the room.

“I haven’t seen you guys in forever! How long was I…”

“15 years.”

“So that would put you guys in your mid-30s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anything big happened in the last 15 years?”

Alex pulled off his helmet, “Nothing too bad. I was imprisoned for a bit of it,” he glared at his brother.

Xisuma also removed his helmet, “I said I was sorry, how many times do you want me to apologize?”

“I wasn’t saying it’s your fault, I was just making the point that-”

“I get it! I was an idiot and I didn’t listen to you when you were clearly right.”

“Just like old times,” Doomguy chuckled, he examined his son’s faces, “You look so much older, like real adults. I’m so sorry I missed out on the last 15 years, I would’ve loved to see you grow up.”

“It’s not like you could do anything about it.”

“I know you would have been here if you could.”

“Also how did you guys get those scars?”

“Someone needed to keep slaying the demons after you left,” Alex shrugged.

“I angered some Watchers years ago.”

“You angered some Watchers?” Doomguy asked, standing up.

“I just realized someone was right, but it was too late to save them.”

“Darn right, I was.” Alex and Xisuma also stood up.

“I...forgot how tall you were,” Doomguy said looking, at up at Alex, who was only a few inches taller.

“Oh, yeah. Xisuma was jealous he never got this tall.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Sure,” Alex smirked.

“So, anything else new?” Their dad intervened.

“Daisy’s still alive.”

“Should’ve guessed,” he chuckled.

“Oh! You’re a grandpa!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! I adopted a guy named xB. I’ll call him over, so you can meet!”

<Xisuma> hey xb, can you come on down to my base, I’ve got something to show you

<xBcrafted> ?

<xBcrafted> yeah, be there shortly

“How did you meet this xB?”

“I was doing some exploring between seasons, looking for a good seed, when I found a small single player world. xB was alone in there. Poor kid was only 13, didn’t know where his parents were, said he had been handling himself for the last 2 or 3 years, so I took him back to Hermitcraft with me. He’s a great kid, you’ll love him.”

“Xisuma has practically adopted the entire server.”

“Server? You’re an admin?”

“We both are. I’m main admin of Hermitcraft, Alex is the backup admin.”

“I’m so sorry I missed out on all of this stuff. I really wish I could have been there for you two.”

Something thumped into the outside of the building they were in, and the door opened, “Freakin’ rockets, stupid friggin’ elytra,” xB mumbled. “Oh, hey Uncle Alex, hey, dad.”

Doomguy gasped, “I love him already!”

“Wha-”

“xB, this is our dad, Doomguy.”

“Wait, I thought he was dead.”

“Wonky magic stuff.”

“OK then. I’m xBcrafted,” xB said, offering his hand for a handshake.

Doomguy scooped him up in a hug, “Hello, xB, you can call me Grandpa Flynn, or just Grandpa, or just Flynn, I don’t care. I have a grandson!”

“Nice-to-meet-you,” xB gasped.

“Dad, I don’t think he can breath.”

“Oh, right,” Flynn released his grandson, “sorry, got a little overexcited.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back.”

“Do you want to go meet the rest of the server? There’s just under 30 of us, total.”

“Oh, you’ll love all of them. There’s me, of course, but Hypno and Jevin and Wels and False are all set up near me, Stress and Gem are also pretty close, and Doc and Ren are just past them, and…” xB rambled as the other three grabbed their helmets.

“You ready?” Alex asked, pushing open the door.

“Let’s go, I want to meet the rest of your family.”

[idorkish]

4 AM Cuddles

A/n: Alright, this is something I wrote back in 2016 on my original idorkish blog. I couldnt find it in the mess of posts from that, so Im posting from scratch. There were only ever 2 parts written, with a 3rd in works, but there wasnt much want for that. I'll post the 2nd part up tomorrow.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of cheating - don't cheat peeps! if you're unhappy with your partner, talk and end things!

Prompts: • “You come to my room at 4am, to cuddle?” • “If you walk out of that door, don’t even think about coming back” • “I’m tired of being your dirty little secret”

The tower had never felt so empty and lonely. Most of the team were out on their own missions. The only ones left were you, Tony, Wanda, and Vision. The latter two were probably out on a date again. Getting up from your bed, you walked over to the window, staring out at the glittering city before you. It had been a hard night. No matter how cold you made your room, sweat stuck to your skin, forcing your hair down and sticking to your face. With a sigh, you stared back at your bed. The sheets were crumpled at the edge, half of them on the floor. The pillows were nowhere in sight – probably under the bed by now. It looked too large for you. How did your safe place come to feel like a prison?

Pushing your back against the cool window, you slumped down to the floor. The cold glass felt good against your skin. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that before your eyelids became heavy. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes strained to open and you were still on the floor. “Come in,” you croaked out. Your throat felt dry as you tried to swallow down the small amount of saliva that formed in your mouth. A figure stood in the doorway to your room. The light from the hall cascaded across the floor, causing your arm to shoot up to cover your eyes as you hissed. “What are you doing on the floor?” the figure called out softly, slowly taking a few steps forward. “I couldn’t sleep Tony. What do you want?” Tony had a habit of checking on you in the middle of the night. His insomnia always got the better of him and he sought refuge in your room. Over the past few months, the two of you had become close. The friendship took many turns for you both. It wasn’t long before you were sneaking around behind the team’s back. No one knew. They couldn’t. Tony was still with Pepper after all. And you? Well you were still considered the newbie. You didn’t feel you had a real place yet. “C’mon kid. To the bed. We’ll… cuddle.” Tony held out his hand to you, that damn smirk on his face that you knew all too well. “You come to my room, at 4am, to cuddle?” you scoffed, ignoring his hand as you made your way back to your feet. How long could this keep going on? Yes, the sex was great. Yes, you enjoyed every moment you shared with this man. But it was hard to go on pretending that it all meant nothing. “Why are you really here Tony?” Your voice was small and unsure. Tony shuffled and gave a small shrug. “FRIDAY informed me about your trouble sleeping. Figured I would off some…assistance,” his voice drifting. “Seriously? Is that all I’m good for with you? What are we even doing Tony? You have Pepper!” What were you doing and how did you ever let it get this far? Tony had always been charming. When you started working with the Avengers, the two of you would constantly flirt. It was harmless. You flirted with everyone on the team. Everything was moving along smoothly and you were finding your place on the team. Everything was normal until a particularly hard mission. It was supposed to be easy – gather intel. Nothing is ever easy. You had infiltrated the base but found a small child in one of the labs. You went against your orders and turned this into a rescue mission. You had barely made it out with the child in your arms. Tony had to drag you both into the quinjet, but you had done it. You got the intel and the child was safe. Once back, the whole team laid into you about your decision. No matter how many times you tried to explain yourself, it seemed no one was happy. You saved a child – they only saw disobedience. Tony was the only one to back you up, and for that you were grateful. After the debriefing, Tony helped you back to your room and out of your armor. Tony stayed with you until you were done showering and redressed. Tucking you under your sheets, he promised to throw a party to take your mind off the latest mission and to get everyone in a better mood. You awoke late the next day. Everything was still normal. The team was gathered in the common area, paper balls and jokes being thrown around while everyone laughed.

[kookieskiwi]

Hi! Can I request ot7 mafia au! x reader with the situasion of panic attack "we're here baby take a breath for us". Kookieskiwi I hope you're doing well btw I like your new drabble and I'm in love with it and its make me want more Im sorry 😭. I love you 😘💜

(Akbdiandhe I screamed when I got this notification ❤️ I’m doing really good, thank you for your concern 🥺💕 i try really hard to write things my readers want to read so I’m extremely happy that you liked my recent Drabble 🥺✨ don’t apologize for wanting more! You have no idea how happy it makes me to write for you guys ❤️ and even more so when it’s because you liked one of my previous works so much! I love you so much more and remember ‘you nice keep going’ my lovely 💜😘🤩)

This is the last Drabble they are referring to btw

WARNING: MENTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK AND MURDER, if these topics are triggering for you I suggest you don’t read this!

-

Today wasn’t a good day for you at all. The boys left before you had even woken up for a deal they had been planning for months now leaving you to spend the entire day alone. You understood they were business men of sorts and with that occupation came ungodly hours of work which often left you alone. But being alone wasn’t that much of a problem because you always had contact with the boys somehow wether it be a simple text message or a quick phone call.

But now, in the early hours of the next morning when you hadn’t heard from them all day; you weren’t okay at all. You kept your phone near you at all times; when you showered, went to the bathroom, cooked dinner for all of you only to put the rest in the fridge, but ultimately you did nothing but lay around the house hoping to hear a ‘ding’ from your phone which never came.

They had been gone for 24 hours without a single word. From midnight to three am you had been calling guards and those who worked under them in case they had any knowledge of their whereabouts but all came back negative. They had been gone for days before but never without checking in every few hours or so to let you know they were okay. Sometimes it was simply a heart emoji or a ‘love you’ which was enough to let you know they were okay.

“Are you sure you haven’t heard anything from them?” You asked one of their subordinates from the agency. “No ma’am, the last we heard from them was right before they left. We’ve been searching everywhere and hacking into security footage around town but they’re good at what they do, they won’t be found easily.” He responded telling you everything you already knew. They were the best of the best when it came to everything including secrecy. Which was great, until now.

“Thank you Soobin, please keep an ear and eye out in case you see or hear anything from them.” You told him sighing, “will do Noona, until then please don’t make any rash decisions. Stay home and if they don’t check in within the next few hours I’ll send someone to get you and bring you to the HQ.” He informed you of his plan which you agreed to easily, it’d be much better being alone with people around as odd as that may seem. You were alone without the loves of your life and without knowing if they were okay or not.

It was now 5 am and they hadn’t checked in with anyone and no one knew of their whereabouts. You tried holding in your tears as the gut wrenching feeling that something had gone wrong hit it was hard not to let a tear fall. Trekking up the stairs to your shared bedroom you didn’t want to see the empty bed so you walked slowly hoping that before you got to the top of the stairs they would come rushing through the door and they’d be safe in your arms once again.

You were tired and worried which was never a good mix for you. The fear of losing the ones you loved the most got to you on the last step of the staircase before you came tumbling down both emotionally and physically. You tried clutching onto the railing to keep you stabilized but it failed as your body crumpled onto the stairs curling yourself into a ball and you resting your head in your hands.

Your stomach felt as if it you were one a roller coaster at the tip top before it fell. The anxiety you had build up during the day was the roller coaster and the falling was you right now. All the way to rock bottom. Your sobs filled the room while you tried to comfort yourself by curling even further into your own body. “Please let them be okay, god please.” You prayed knowing it was the only thing you could do now besides wait. The simple thought of them not making it back home was enough to throw you into a downward spiral.

Ringing in your ears began to drown out the sound of your own cries and please that you were no longer controlling. Your head began to ache with a fuzz which clouded your thoughts and filled your head. Your throat was on fire from crying, you were shaking like a leaf in the wind, you couldn’t hear anything but the blood thrumming through your veins but none of that mattered. No, all that mattered to you was your boys who weren’t here and that was the worst part.

Clutching your pounding head you tried breathing but you couldn’t, you couldn’t do anything but lie there letting yourself fade into your own emotions. Your chest ached as if your heart had physically shattered from the agony of not knowing and knowing you were helpless in this situation.

“Please be okay, please come home to me. I promise to love you for the rest of our lives, I love you all so much God please let them come back home.” You pleaded with your eyes screwed shut. You felt like you were drowning in your own tears, the inability to catch your breath being the main factor in this feeling but your whole body felt under some sort of pressure.

That was until you felt a much heavier pressure on top of that, the numbness you had felt overcome your body slowly went away with the ringing in your ears which allowed you to come to an understanding of what exactly that pressure was.

A person.

Opening your eyes you tried to see but everything was blurry, your tears kept falling no matter how hard you tried to stop. “We’re here baby. Take a breath for us please.” It was Yoongi. Your Yoongi. And he said ‘We’re’ meaning they are all home. Choking on your sobs once again you reach out to him and anyone near you to hold them as close as possible.

“You’re- home.” You sobbed into his chest as him arms reached around you to pull you further into his embrace. You let everything else out in tears of relief. They were home. Alive. Safe. The more you cried the less intense your sobs got and the more you could breath even though it was still hard to regulate your body. “Please never do that again.” Your voice cracked as you squeezed Jimin’s hand in yours sighing but still hiccuped as you tried to calm down.

“We won’t baby. I promise because we are retiring from that job.” Namjoon told you coming close to your face to wipe the tears away, he held your face between his calloused hands which you leaned into, craving to feel him; all of them. “W-what?” You asked confused, you thought you heard correctly but you weren’t sure. After coming down from such an intense panic attack you didn’t know what was real and what was part of your imagination. “We are here, for there rest of out lives. Just you and us. No more late night jobs, no more trades that make us leave for days, none of it anymore. Just us, settling down and staring the family we’ve always wanted.” He explained further making you want to sob even more knowing all your nights of worrying were coming to an end.

You couldn’t help but let a few more tears slip as you smile at them, crying now from the sheer thought of having all of them home safe and sound. “I love you all so much, I was so scared.” You told them shutting your eyes closed once again to cry a little more. “I’m so sorry baby, we were ambushed and we lost all connection with you and the agency. We couldn’t risk them finding our home, finding you, so we hide and we couldn’t contact anyone in fear they had the entire city’s phone system tapped to listen in.” Hoseok told you helping you stand up on your shaky legs only for him to pick you up like a koala and to have you cling to him for dear life.

“Did you kill them? Because if you didn’t I will.” You mumbled looking at the six others who followed behind Hoseok as he walked with you in his arms to the bedroom. They all let out a simultaneous chuckle and you could feel the warmth re-enter your body at the sound. These were the men you loved and lived for. “We did baby, don’t worry.” Taehyung told you with his signature boxy smile as if you weren’t just talking about murder making you giggle.

Hoseok laid you on the bed softly and kept you in his embrace as the others changed and showered before handing you to Jin who kissed all over your face as he helped you shower and relax by massaging you with the bath oils and soap.

After everyone was cleaned and dressed you were tucked into bed between all of your lovers but sandwiched between Jungkook and Jimin. You were in the bed that would no longer be empty when you woke up for went to sleep because you’d have your lovers right beside you for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t be happier at the thought of that.

“What do you say about getting married?”

-

...I’m smelling an epilogue or part two if requested 😏 maybe some brief baby making on their honeymoon?

[jungshookz]

ballet!jimin's harsh voice but gentle touch when he's telling u off for performing with an injury but bandaging u up and snapping at the others because his sTAR WAS HURT AND CRYING im sOFT

→ pairing: park jimin x reader 

→ genre: balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n au, fluff!!!! the fluffiest fluff!!! idk jimin just really cares about y/n okAY 

→ wordcount: 2.5k 

→ note: i keep starting off with baby drabbles and then the baby drabbles eventually turn into fAT drabbles so here u go.,., y/n is a big dum-dum for not telling jimin about her sprained ankle and he wants to kiss the bruise on her knee but that’s probably not a good idea

(gif isn’t mine!) (okay but this gif is literally so perfect for this au) 

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

long story short

you managed to sprain your ankle after trying to do a grand jeté and now you’re trying to pretend like your foot is completely fine

(a grand jeté is a move where ur supposed to spring from one foot and land on the other while keeping one leg forwArd of your body and the other leg stretched backwards while in the air) 

((u would not recommend doing it and u give it -2/10 gold stars))

it’s just that you have this innate, almost animalistic need to impress jimin and the other week you snuck a glance at the syllabus and you saw ‘grand jeté’ scribbled at the bottom of the page

and ya know what

you want to be one of the first people in the class to learn how to do it!! even though you’ve never attempted it before but 

now is a good time to start learning! 

you came in super early today to practice this stuPid move

it’s literally just a jump from point a to point b so you don’t understand why-

“shit!” you gasp when you feel a sharp pain shOOt up your foot the moment you land and you immediately crumple to the ground with a loud fLOP

O W

“oh my god, ow-” you hiss and rub at your sore ankle that’s beginning to turn red

you try flexing your foot and you let out a whimper when you feel another zap of pain

okay

you know what

it’s not a big deal

class starts in… ten minutes, so maybe you can hobble to the vending machine and use a can of soda as a makeshift ice pack

yes

also you should probably hide in the bathroom while icing your ankle because there’s no way in hell you’re going to let jimin see you like this

you’re already sure he hates you and you are not going to give him another reason to keep hating you

“that was quite a tumble, y/l/n. maybe if you kept your leg straighter, you wouldn’t have landed so harshly.” you immediately freeze upon hearing the voice of your sworn enemy

seulgi

you whip around to look over your shoulder “…seulgi! i… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“it’d be a shame if you hurt your foot… you won’t be able to participate in class… you won’t be able to show us your amazing dance moves…” seulgi sighs and drops her bag on the side

you narrow your eyes at her

something’s coming

“oh! and you won’t be able to suck up to mr. park like a little teacher’s pet.”

ah

there it is

you have literally never done anything to seulgi but she hates you because she fully believes that you’re jimin’s favourite student which yOU know is not true

it’s just because she wants to be jimin’s favourite student which is understandable but

you don’t get why she has to be so mean to you all the time

“says you.” you can’t help but roll your eyes after you turn back around to check on your foot

you give it another little flex and curse quietly

you definitely sprained it

you gooFball

you shouldn’t have attempted a grand jeté without jimin’s guidance!!!

“sorry, did you just say something?” 

“i said i’m fine, seulgi.” you force a smile onto your face “but thank you for your concern.” you push yourself up off the ground and biTe back a hiss of pain when you get back up onto your feet

okay okay oKAy

just smile through the pain

do noT give seulgi the pleasure of knowing that your foot is all kinds of fucked up right now

if you don’t think about your foot, you should be fine

you only have to get through an hour and a half of rigorous dancing and then you can hobble to the drug store and get yourself some ointment and a bandage and hopefully your foot will get better over the weekend

and with this distraction you officially have… one minute left til class starts

the rest of the girls have already filed into the room and everyone’s either stretching on the barre or putting their pointe shoes on

“alright, ladies!” you jump when jimin claps his hands together as he steps into the studio “put on your best performance smiles because i want to see everyone do a triple-turn pirouette since we spent all of last week working on them!”

“oh, jesus.” you mutter to yourself and you ignore the way seulgi crosses her arms and smirks at you

it’s not just one pirouette that you have to do

it’s a triple-turn pirouette

you have to spin around three damn times!!!!

your foot isn’t even going to let you spin onE time!!  

it can’t get any worse than this 

“we’re going to have everyone up here one by one so that i can clearly pick out whatever mistakes will be made.”

…okay, it turns out it actually can get worse than this 

everyone moves to gets in a line at the back of the room

“alright, so…” jimin pauses for a second and raises his brow when he notices you.,. hobble? to your spot

hm 

you turn around and stand in third position with your hands behind your back and clear your throat

“let’s get started! don’t let me down, please.”

“don’t let him down, y/l/n.” seulgi nudges your side with her elbow and you resist the urge to shoVe your elbow right into her face

“why don’t you focus less on me and more on the fact that you’re in fourth position instead of third?” you mutter and seulgi immediately looks down at her feet before shifting her feet

curse you and your attention to detail

“answer me this - how should one hold their arms during a pirouette?” jimin snaps and holds his clipboard against his chest before raising his brow at poor ailee

she looks like she’s about to start crying and honEstly you would probably start crying too

“um, you… they should be curved… and…”

“incorrect.” jimin blinks “i can’t tell if you’re kidding me or not. they should be straight out in front of your chest with your palms inward and your thumbs aligned. get out of my classroom and come back when you’re ready - next!”

ailee literally whimpers before ducking down and sprinting out of the classroom 

oh goD

you’ve never been kicked out of the classroom before and you sure as hell don’t want to start now

you swallow thickly when you take a peek at how many girls are left until it’s your turn

four more including seulgi

you’ve seen seulgi do a triple-turn pirouette before and even though she does it beautifully you still hAte her guts

you grimace when you move up the line but you let out a small breath

smile through the pain

your ankle feels like it’s on FIRE

“seulgi? you’re up.” jimin taps his pen against his clipboard before gesturing for her to come

seulgi doesn’t say a word as she steps over to the middle of the room

a bright smile adorns her face as she spins one, two, and three times

goddamnit

how are you supposed to go on after seulgi????

“good.” jimin nods in affirmation “back of the line so that you can show the class again after everyone’s done.”

“yes, mr. park.” seulgi smiles sweetly and bats her lashes at him before veering off to the back of the line

“good luck, y/n.” she doesn’t hesitate to flash a smug little smirk in your direction as she steps past you

“y/n, your turn.” jimin hums and you offer him a meek smile

okay

here we go

don’t think about your foot

just think about the triple turn

you clear your throat again as you get into position

the first step to the turn is a plié

you stand with your feet flat against the floor

you bend your knees outward and keep your legs straight

so far so good

you lift your back heel off the ground slightly to prepare to turn and press your lips together to hide a wince when you feel more pressure on your front (very VERY spRAined) foot

“make sure your weight is centred over the ball of your foot so as not to disrupt your alignment.” jimin reminds you gently and you nod

“yes, mr. park.” you let out a breath to prepare yourself for the oncoming onslaught of PAIN

you give yourself a mental countdown before lifting your back leg and initiating your turn

you lift your back leg up and place your foot above the knee of your straight leg with your toe pointed towards the ground and you turn once

oh gOD

you unintentionally let out a gasp after completing the first turn because jesus fuCK that hurts!

your sprained foot is literally carrying the weight of your entire body and you want to: dIE

okay, second turn, here we go!

you remember to keep your back straight and your arms in a circle in front of you as you turn

you also remind yourself to focus on spotting so that you won’t lose your balance

you keep your head straight and level as you turn the second time

don’t think about your foot don’t think about your foo-

j-jESUS chRIST have MERCY

you get halfway through the final turn before your foot gives in and you find yourself tumbling to the ground

your knee hits the ground with a loud smAck that seems to bounce off the walls of the room and you let out a groan of pain

well, this is great!

now you have a fucked up ankle anD a bruised and bLeeding knee!

“christ, y/n, are you okay??” your name slips out of jimin’s mouth as he drops to his knees and sets his clipboard down with a clatter

seulgi raises her hand high up into the air and clears her throat “mr. park, can i just say how truly admirable it is that y/n wanted to get up there and show you her triple- well, her double-pirouette even though she sprained her ankle at the beginning of class?”

jimin looks up at her and immediately knits his brows together 

“you knew a fellow classmate was injured and you didn’t inform me?” he practically growls at her and she shrinks back in fear

“i-“ seulgi pauses and her face flames up immediately “i-i mean, yes, but that’s only because i… i didn’t want…”

you literally aren’t even paying attention to the fact that seulgi is getting toasted and roasted by jimin because you are in sO much pain

you let out a sob and feel a hot tear roll down the side of your face as you lie on your back clutching your knee to your chest  

oh grEAT

and now you’re crying!!!

jimin looks down at you in alarm before glancing over at the other girls who look absolutely traumatised

“everyone out of the classroom! go and practice your turns in room b.”

so

you’re not particularly sure what’s going on right now

everyone left the room five minutes ago and jimin hasn’t said a word to you

you stopped crying as soon as everyone left upon realising that you are now alone with jimin

he doesn’t say anything as he pulls the first aid kit out to get the ointment and the bandages

he doesn’t say anything as he sits down across from you and pulls your foot up gently so it’s sitting on his lap

you’re sitting up while leaning back on your palms and you chew on your bottom lip nervously

he helps unravel the ribbon around your ankle before slipping your pointe shoe off and setting it aside

you feel like you should at least say somEthing

“mr. park? i’m sorry for not telling-“

“how could you be so irresponsible?” jimin interrupts you and glances up at you for a second before looking back down at your foot

you feel your cheeks heat up with shame

“i just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” you murmur and twiddle with the edge of your chiffon skirt

“i could never be disappointed in you.” jimin mutters in response as he carefully pins the bandage in place

he pauses for a second because he definitely wasn’t supposed to say that out loUd

“you have to let me know the next time you’re hurt, okay?” he sets your foot aside and scoots closer til he’s practically sitting with your legs on either side of him

and now your cheeks are heating up for a different reason

and then you realise he’s only done that because your knee is still bruised and bleeding

“yes, mr. park.” 

“how did you hurt yourself?” he rips open a little antiseptic pad package with his teeth and that..,,. shouldn’t be hot,.., but it was kinda hot.,,.

“i was… trying to do a grand jeté and i guess i landed weirdly on my ankle…” you breathe out 

your heart is beating a little harder now because jimin’s face is only a couple inches away from yours

he’s so pretty 

:-( 

“but i haven’t taught how to do a grand jeté yet?” jimin raises a brow as he wipes up the dried blood

you twitch at the slight sting of it

“i saw it on your clipboard and i wanted to teach myself how to do it to impress you.” you admit shamefully and divert your gaze immediately when you feel jimin freeze

“are you serious?”

“…ya”

jimin snorts 

gOD

you are so CUTE

his heart skip a beat at your confession

it’s so cute!!!! you did it to impress him!!!!!! him!!!! even though you obviously hurt yourself doing it but still!! you did it for hiM!!! 

a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he shakes his head 

“you really are something, you know that?” he laughs lightly as he smooths the bandaid over your cut

you can’t help but let out a little huff “…is that a good thing?”

jimin looks over at you and he just wants to kith the pout off your adorable faCE 

he resists the urge to lean down and press a kiss over your knee and instead gives it a little pat before reaching over a tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear 

“miss y/l/n - it’s a very good thing.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[elsewhereuniversity]

Story, Name, And Stone

You bring an agate. It isn’t the prettiest and it has chips and scratches taken out of it, but it fits nicely in your palm. It’s shaped almost like one of those old handaxes you see in museums, reminiscent of a raindrop from one angle or a wide leaf from another. It’s had pride of place on your bookcase since you found it on a visit to the Oregon coast in your early teens. You don’t really want to give it up all that much but the main thing you’ve heard about the keeper of the Memorial is that they’ll only accept a stone if it’s true to its giver, and the agate is the only thing to hand.

It’s also said that you need to clear your schedule for a visit to the memorial, so you bow out of an invitation to tackle the Rainbow Road with Lychee and start for the Memorial.

The agate is a comfortable weight in your left jeans pocket and the yoga mat shifts back and forth with every step. Your aunt sent it to you, with a passive-aggressive suggestion that you work out “a bit more, since you already have your freshman fifteen down pat, sweetheart.” Add to it the spite of having every discussion of mental health turned into a sales pitch for her yoga studio, and you’ve never used it, nor do you intend to. But your RA did mention that you can bring a little creature comfort for Wanderer if you’re feeling more paranoid than usual.

You’re pretty sure that the Memorial should be either larger or smaller than it is, with all the names laid out like they are. It doesn’t quite fit in the landscape. It’s a carpet of rocks, crystals, river stones, and what may be some petrified wood, pressed in close together and most just barely touching each other. There are little paths carved through it, almost like snail trails or the silk of a spider web, and at the convergence sits Wanderer.

They’re a lonesome figure in the center of a third-acre rock garden. They’re also sitting in the apparent wreckage of a very elaborate blanket fort. Which. Is not. What you expected. But you press onwards, because who knows how long this will take, and the sun is already lower in the sky than you’d like.

The agate seems to get heavier with each step, but you manage to pick your way across to Wanderer, who directs you to take a seat. You ask if they’re busy. Manners are important. Criss-cross-applesauce on a tartan throw pillow, the concentric circles of knitted and stuffed accoutrements and thousands of rocks provide an unsettling but not overtly threatening impression of tranquility.

You aren’t a geology major (though you considered it at one point, if only for the benefits afforded by their agreement and their sigil) so you aren’t quite sure of all the names, but there’s definitely a few chunks of iron ore scattered throughout Wanderer’s domain. The hand that isn’t clenched around the agate itches to touch the anklet or the vambrace, one given by your childhood best friend and the other willed to you by an older student who never came back after going home last winter, respectively. Instead, you reach around to unstrap the yoga mat and present it. Wanderer doesn’t take it until you lay out your terms; the mat is freely given, and you’d like the standard arrangement regarding the safekeeping of story, name*, and stone. {*You can use your safe-name or your true Name, but it doesn’t matter, the RA explained; Wanderer will know you by your stone and your story. Both are powerful in their own ways.} Wanderer inclines their head(?) and extends an appendage. Somewhere between your palm and being set at Wanderer’s feet(?), there’s a shift from ‘your agate’ to Your Agate. You can’t help but stare at It for a moment, and Wanderer allows you this moment to collect your thoughts.

When you speak, you don’t tell about how you were sick as a child, or how decided on your major, or how you first heard about the Memorial from a sophomore who was Replaced two weeks later. Instead, you speak at length about how the seagrass sliced at your fingers but The Agate was too perfect to leave behind so you crouched on a sand dune and scrabbled at the roots and stems until your fingers were bloody and the sand was packed under your fingernails and the dozens of tiny cuts felt like your skin was angry and buzzing, but you had The Agate and the hyperfocus brought on by Its retrieval was worth it when the sea washed the remaining sand off of It and you, and it gleamed in the sun.

Then you speak about how the mom-and-pop burger joint you and your dad got milkshakes at and how he tried to teach you how to shuffle a deck of cards but eventually just let settle into the sort of unencumbered peace that comes with trying to get the last stubborn dollop of whipped cream out of the bottom of the glass while the server gossips with a local in the background.

You speak about putting your feet up on the dashboard and the Eurythmics blaring and your gifted anklet jangling cheerily in the wind. About shaking sand out of your hair without bothering to comb it and impulsively buzzing it all off two nights later because the tangles just weren’t worth it. About how having short hair felt so much more Right. About how the memory of your grandfather beams when a blueberry cobbler comes out perfectly sweet and little tart, just enough orange juice to keep the family recipe alive.

Your throat hurts by the end, but Wanderer looks satisfied. Probably. It’s hard to tell, but they haven’t done anything except shift around a bit and nod once in a while. Your Agate doesn’t gleam quite like it did that first time you held it your hands and rinsed it in the ocean, but it’s a near thing.

Wanderer motions for you to stay seated when they move away. They meander through the rocks, pausing several times before they finally choose one and pick it up. They return far quicker than they left and fold themselves with enviable poise into a crumpled ball of limbs and talons and other aspects you don’t want to think too hard about.

The stone they set down beside Your Agate is a sort of crystalline light blue, with patches of greener or darker blue stone. In your consideration of geology, you did a bit of research on various types of rock, so you want to say it’s mica, but you aren’t sure enough to wager on it. And at EU, most things are on some level a wager, so you keep your trap shut.

The stone’s person’s handwriting is a rounded off scrawl that looks like a note-taker’s wet dream. ‘Heartsease’ reads the inscription. Your inspection of the memorial stone is brief, because it’s then that Wanderer chooses to speak.

“She grew up the second oldest of five children in Salt Lake City. Was skeptical of her parents’ beliefs, and didn’t care much to change herself to fit into their expectations. Was thrown out a year before she became an adult and spent some time couch-surfing and trying on names until one fit. Did odd jobs to cover groceries and the like, ‘til a friend of a friend pointed her to Elsewhere.

“About eight months after she arrived and got settled, her younger brother followed. Just a boy, kinda scrawny, almost didn’t make it past the front gate ‘xcept he got the Gentry who walked him to take a little carved duck as a thank you.

“Ducky found Heartsease’s roommate and helped carry a tablet to their dorm. Didn’t think to say it was freely given, but did get him to ‘is sis. When she saw him she knew somethin’d happened and asked why he didn’t just call. Told her he had been scared ‘cause he liked boys as much as he did girls, and his older sister knew something about bein’ a girl as opposed to a boy so when he figured it out, he took his bike and his birthday money and followed her to her University. Heartsease thought their hometown’s salt in his blood musta helped him across campus – didn’t know nothing on how to act but he was still in one piece.

“‘Course, Heartsease couldn’t well take care of her brother at Elsewhere, so she set up to go work at a coffee shop her friend owned, but and planned to give her story as a last measure. Gentry that Ducky’d given his namesake to wasn’t ‘appy to see the backs of his new interesting little humans, so he proposed a deal; he’d give Heartsease twenty seven ‘ours to a day and a path from Outside to Elsewhere so she could continue her studies, ‘long with his guardianship so Ducky could have the run of the place.”

You can’t help but wonder what the cost of that was. No wonder poor Heartsease was in the Memorial. But if the Other had offered provisions for her to keep studying, surely there had to be something of her left after the extraction of its price? But the price would no doubt be absolutely horrifyingly steep.

“Quite. Heartsease paid with her death. She won’t die as she should have. Woulda been a stroke at 72. Now, she’s gonna cross to Fae instead of dying, spend a while with the Gentry that ‘elped Ducky and then her. Think he’s got a bit of a soft spot, y’ken? Does an early shift and brings a freely given cappuccino to ‘er Gentry most days, and lets ‘im come with her sometimes to Ducky’s hockey games. But she did her story-name-and-stone, and her fate was woven, so she’s ‘ere.

“Now, it’s time that you get back. Don’t worry about Your Agate. It’ll be here when you aren’t, and somebody’ll get your story that needs it.”

With that, Wanderer raises to their full height and shoos you out of the Memorial and into the Golden Hour light.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you might just see a triad across the campus – one jagged and willowy, the other in a purple sundress and soft around the edges, and between them a walking pile of shoulder pads and body armor and helmet.

And though its spot on the bookshelf is conspicuously bare, The Agate has a new pride of place.

x

[virgilantejustice]

Entrapment

Well, i wrote this a while ago, so im not entirely sure if it works as well as it did with the actual context at the moment, but what the hey! (Does that make sense?)

Also, i hate to say, but my last fic got 3 notes. And one of those was from me reblogging it so it could get more. It didn’t. So, please, if you see this, please reblog it. Its getting harder and harder to post fics because i feel like no one cares….

Anyways!

Master post link

Word count: Approx 1100

Trigger warnings: Imprisonment, crying, i hesitate to say sympathetic Deceit but i feel i should, dark Patton(?), tell me if i missed any

—————————————————————————————–

Deceit opened his eyes, squinting in the bright, assaulting sunlight that met them.

That wasn’t right. Why was his room so bright? Why was his bed so hard. Why was it so cold.

It wasn’t his fucking room.

Standing up, Deceit looked around him. He was standing in a small cage, simple metal bars, barely rising above his head and narrow enough to reach the sides with outstretched arms.

Not good.

Blinking away his sleep, Deceit saw a figure on the other side of the bars. He moved towards them.

Patton?

“Patton, whats going on?” he breathed, slightly breathless with mounting panic. This was all just a prank, wasn’t it? Just a poorly thought out prank?

Somehow the look on Patton’s face didn’t seem like that. His face was almost unreadable, except for the traces of anger around the tight lips, tints of sadness in the wide eyes, holding himself far straighter than usual, as if trying to convince himself to be confident.

“I can’t let you hurt Thomas,” he whispered, his eyes closed.

“Hurt him?”

“Yes!” His face wasnt unreadable anymore. Pure disgust stung Deceit’s eyes as it appeared too suddenly to register. “You just hurt him! You’re a liar! And i wont let you!”

“So this is your solution!?” Deceit cried. He knew Patton hated him, but this? “Locking me away? What if the time comes when you need me!”

“Simple,” Patton purred, his voice suddenly venomous, “that time wont come. We don’t need lies. They’re wrong. You’re wrong!”

Deceit shrunk backwards, panic beginning to fill his mind. “How did you even do this?!” Deceit cried, clinging to the bars until the cold metal dug into his hands. “This is Roman’s realm!”

Patton blinked a few times, his lips twitching and his fingers trembling. “Who’s saying Roman isn’t doing this?” he mumbled at the ground.

“He wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t he?”

Deceit faltered. No, Roman would do this, would he? Roman liked him, he was nice to Roman. But only Roman could control imagination enough to do something like this.

Patton was staring at him, a strange ferocity in his eyes. Deceit could see how his chest was rising and falling rapidly and reached out to him through the bars.

“Please,” he whispered, desperate enough to resort to begging. “You don’t want to do this.”

Patton continued to stand completely still, staring at the ground. Then he blinked slowly and looked up, hatred burning in his eyes so hot that Deceit flinched back. Sweet Patton, innocent Patton, with such seething loathing, it made tears spring to his eyes.

“You’re so full of lies, Deceit,” Patton hissed, coming closer. “We don’t need you.” Deceit fell to his knees. “Thomas doesn’t need you.” One tear slipped down his scaled cheek. “We don’t need your lies!” He crumpled to the floor.

“No,” he murmured, more to himself than Patton. “You do need me, i’m good, i do good.”

He did, didn’t he? He tried! Its not his fault that they decided that they hated him before they even met him!

“I’m sorry, Deceit,” Patton hissed out his name like a curse. “But you’re staying here.”

Patton began to walk away, the usual spring missing from his step. Deceit leapt up and banged his fists against the bars.

“You cant do this! They’ll come! You need me!”

Patton simply put his hands to his ears and kept on walking away.

Deceit sunk to the floor of the cage, tears flowing freely down his face. Shaking sobs racking his body. Once he saw that Patton was safely out of imagination and back in the mindscape, he let out a scream that shook the ground.

They still saw him as the bad guy?! After all that?! The snake come to lure them into sinning! It wasn’t true! It wasn’t! It couldn’t be!

—————————————————————————————–

“Patton! What in the wide world were you thinking!”

Logan’s voice met Deceit’s ears as if it were miles away, but when he opened his eyes, his shiny black shoes were right there on the other side of the bars.

He must have passed out, he thought, as he picked himself off the bare floor.

“I told you, i didn’t do it, i don’t know how it happened!” Patton said quietly. Deceit let out a hiss.

“You’re lying!” he growled. Patton looked at him, traces of hate lingering in his eyes, but overcome with fear.

Roman spun around and grabbed Patton by the shoulders, shaking him. “What happened to ‘lying is wrong’, Patton!?” he cried, his voice cracking.

“With exceptions!” Patton replied in a shaking, petulant voice.

“Just stop it!” Logan cried, fiddling with the lock.

“Stop what?” came a small voice from behind them, they all froze. Virgil was standing there, his eyes glistening. Logan jumped back. Recognition of what was happening struck virgil so hard he stumbled.

“Who?” he growled, his hands balled into fists.

Roman stepped aside to reveal Patton, who had his hands drawn in to his chest.

“You?” Virgil breathed, closing his eyes. “Why?”

“He was hurting you,” Patton whimpered. Deceit hissed again.

Virgil looked at Logan, who was still working on picking the lock, nodded, then turned around and walked quickly back to the mindscape.

Patton reached out a hand to him, as if to pull him back, but he had already disappeared inside the door. He spared one last teary look at Roman, then bolted after him.

Deceit let out a sobbing breath as the door swung open, and he fell forwards into Roman’s arms. Roman gently held him for a moment, before leading him slowly back to the door to the mindscape.

“How did he do it?” Deceit said, looking up at him. “Only you have enough power over imagination to build something like that.”

Roman sighed. “I gave him some control a few days ago,” he said. The pain in his voice made Deceit’s heart twinge. “He said he wanted to make something, i pictured a garden or something, I never dreamed…. i never…. I’m sorry.”

“I dont think any of us could have for seen this,” Logan said, his brow creased.

“Really?” Deceit asked, his voice dark. They stared at him. “He hates me.”

“But, Patton-”

“Thinks that everything is wither right or wrong. he has placed me in the ‘wrong’. He hates me.”

They had arrived back at the entrance to the hallway, and Deceit leant against the doorframe, scrabbling together some of his usual suave demeanour despite the fact he was in his pyjamas and had practically just been carried back, but the other two backed away all the same.

“And it’s not just him!” And with that, he sunk out to his room, crumbled, and sobbed.

—————————————————————————————–

Taglist: @confusedbutamusedlolo @soakinforsif @celeste-tyrrell @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

[inkribbon796]

The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

   Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

   So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

   His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

   He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

   Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

   Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

   “I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

   “Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

   “I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

   “Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

   Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . .  Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

   “I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

   Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

   “Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

   Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

   “Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

   “Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

   He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

   It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

   His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

   “Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

   Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

   “So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

   Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

   For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

   Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

   “At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

   “R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

   “Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

   “Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

   Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

   Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

   “What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

   “My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

   “Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

   Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

   “Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

   The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

   “You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

   Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

   Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

   “For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

   He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

   “Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

   “No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

   “Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

   Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

   “You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

   “Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

   When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

   Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

   Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

   “Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

   Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

   “It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

    “S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

   “Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

   “So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

   He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

   Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

   “Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

   “That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

   “Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

   “Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

   It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

   Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

   “What?” Edward asked his friend.

   Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

   “Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

   “He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

   “Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

   “This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

   “Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

   “But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

   Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

   “That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

   The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

   “Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

   “What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

   Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

   “You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

   Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

   “We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

   “Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

   “So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

   “Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

   “You got it bro,” Bing promised.

   Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

   “Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

   “I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

   “Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

   Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

   Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

   “So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

   “As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

   “Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

   Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

   With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

   Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

   It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

   “Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

   Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

   Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

   Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

   “Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

   Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

   Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

   “Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

   The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

   Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

   “Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

   Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

   The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

   “Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

   Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

   Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

   It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

   “No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

   “Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

   “Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

   “Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

   Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

   The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

   “Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

   “Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

   “Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

   Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

   Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

   “They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

   “For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

   Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

   “How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

   “You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

   “Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

   “Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

   “Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

   “I’m good,” Patton smiled.

   “Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

   “Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

   “Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

   “As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

   “A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

   Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

   “Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

   “Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

   “Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

   “My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

   “Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

   “You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

   “What?” Virgil balked.

   Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

   “I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

   “You’re not,” Patton agreed.

   “Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

   “So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

   “Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

   “That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

   “Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

   “Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

   “Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

   “So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

   “Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

   Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

   “Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

   “Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

   Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

   “Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

   “What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

   “I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

   “Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

   Virgil glared at him.

   Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

   The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

   “Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

   “Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

   “It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

   Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

   “E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

   Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

   “Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

   Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

   “Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

   Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

   Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

   “What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

   “It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

   “Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

   “A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

   “Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

   “You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

   “Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

   Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

[desiree-harding-fic]

Cinderella!Au Continuation

Y’all want some SAP?????

This is the original scene of night 3 of the ball from my Taakitz Cinderella!Au. I just felt like putting it up, because im close to 400 followers now, and I think you’re all really sweet to me, and I’m grateful for all of you, and I’m feeling sappy tonight.

So enjoy!

Kravitz guides Taako across the floor confidently, gently, and Taako feels beautiful, he feels like he could fly. He feels like he’s never been loved so strongly, except of course by Lup, but no one has ever paid him attention like this. It’s beautiful, intoxicating, addicting as the smell of Kravitz’s cologne and the line of his cheekbones, as the feeling of his hand resting upon Taako’s waist.

The minutes pass, fifteen, thirty, forty-five, fade into hours, one, two, dancing and then another walk through the beautiful palace gardens, past fountains and trellises, the cool autumn wind just kissing Taako’s bare skin where his dress doesn’t cover, until Kravitz notices him shivering and takes off is fine jacket, despite Taako’s protestations, to drape over Taako’s shoulders.

He’s grateful for the warmth, though, and the softness, and he pulls the garment tighter around him even as he says, “look at you, you’ve ruined the whole look, my man.”

Kravitz just laughs, adjusts the jacket, looks into Taako’s eyes, and Kravitz’s eyes are so beautiful and warm and soft the way he looks at him, and the moment stretches between them, tense in the best possible way, and for a moment, just a moment, Taako thinks –

The moment breaks. And Kravitz says, just barely audible, “worth it.”

They continue their slow promenade through the gardens, Taako on the prince’s arm, and he loves Kravitz’s jokes, they’re strangely morbid and witty, and they make Taako giggle high-pitched and vapid and not at all attractive, but Kravitz still looks at him with those smiling, sparkling eyes as though Taako means –

No. Taako’s not going to think about what he means to Kravitz. In a few hours he’ll leave this place, this moment, and when he goes away with Lup maybe it’ll mean something new for them, and Taako can examine what this is then, when it’s safe. Now? Now isn’t the time. Now, Taako’s a pretty face in a pretty dress at a pretty party, and nothing else exists outside of that.

Kravitz leads them around the beautiful grounds, the sounds of the ball always within earshot, faint but lovely in their own way, muted as the music and chatter floats lightly on the air.

They end on a balcony of sorts, hidden behind trellises and trees, and there, standing between two fine red maples, their leaves alight from the season, and the moon filtering through their half-fallen foliage, and the sea crashing faintly against the rocks beneath them, Kravitz takes Taako’s hand, and begins once more to dance with him.

It’s little more than a soft away from side to say, little more than another reason for Kravitz’s hand on his waist and to be in each other’s space, but it’s - it’s everything. And the air is thick with something Taako doesn’t dare name. Kravitz is beautiful in the moonlight, the way it plays on his dark skin, and his eyes are so deep, and he’s so close to Taako, so close, and Taako can’t look away, can’t –

The press of their lips together is warm, and dry, and almost a surprise, but so welcome, the gentle pressure for just a moment, and Taako’s eyes slide shut as Kravitz kisses him.

It’s over so soon. Kravitz pulls away, and it’s only a few inches, Taako can still feel the breaths shared between them as his eyes flutter open, and then, then –

He isn’t sure who lunges forward, maybe it’s him, and maybe Kravitz, but Taako is suddenly pressed up against the prince, and is pressing his mouth against Kravitz’s and slipping an arm over Kravitz’s shoulder as Kravitz snakes an arm around his back, so solid and strong as Kravitz kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.

And it goes on, and on, and on, and Taako doesn’t ever want it to end, as Kravitz’s hands roam over his waist, and the back of Taako’s head, the nape of his neck to avoid the elegant updo of his hair, and oh gods, the way Kravitz’s hands linger on his body is covetous and dangerously passionate and everything he’s ever wanted but never knew he did.

He’s sitting on the carved stone railing of the balcony they’re on somehow, and how he got there he doesn’t know, and Kravitz is kissing him still, and is pressing himself as close to Taako as he can manage, and it’s thrilling, sitting on the edge like that and trusting Kravitz not to let him fall.

Taako doesn’t think he’s ever trusted anyone who isn’t his sister. He isn’t even sure he thought he could.

Kravitz’s kisses leave his lips and Taako draws in a deep, shaky breath, as Kravitz’s hands find a secure place on his waist and his lips begin to travel down Taako’s neck.

“Kravitz,” he manages, and he almost hates the wrecked gasp of it, the way he sounds like a stiff breeze could knock him over completely, could wipe him out altogether.

Kravitz finally relents, and when he looks at Taako his eyes are wide, his pupils blown out, and gods what a sight that is, but there’s something Taako needs to tell him and he can’t remember what it is with the warm line of Kravitz’s body pressed against him and the thrilling empty air at his back, the endless night sky and equally endless ocean falling away and making him feel as though he could stay here forever.

A hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“What is it?” Kravitz says, just a breath away from him, so, so painfully honest, and his eyes looking somewhere deep into Taako’s soul.

Taako feels a stab of sharp pain somewhere in his chest as he suddenly thinks about all the things he wishes he could say.

He settles for a desperate question.

“What time is it?”

Kravitz’s brow furrows, and his beautiful expression crumples as he looks at Taako for a moment, understanding taking hold in his eyes.

“Please,” he whispers, “please stay.” His hands tighten where they rested gently on Taako’s waist, as though he can keep Taako here, as though –

“I can’t,” Taako says, and it isn’t blasé enough, it isn’t at all aloof or mysterious, it’s raw and somehow desperate, though what exactly he’s desperate for he can’t quite define.

“Why?” the prince asks him, disappointment all over his beautiful face, “lots of people don’t go home even until morning and I –” he clams up, suddenly, looking like he’s choking on his words, almost literally, before he says, “I want you to stay.”

Taako knows there’s more he wants to say, lurking behind those words, and he’s glad that Kravitz doesn’t say it.

He kisses the man once more, a lingering thing, softer than those of a few minutes ago, so soft, and Kravitz is soft. Kravitz is –

“I told you I can’t,” he says, breaking away again, and fixing his eyes somewhere skyward.

“Then at least tell me your name,” Kravitz says, pulling him to his feet off the banister, pulling him close, still so close. “Please, tell me who you are so I can find you again.”

Taako opens his mouth to say something and just then –

CLANG

The clock begins to strike.

It’s like every sense in Taako is dialed up to eleven as he pulls away from Kravitz abruptly, and his mind is running through the way they came as he thinks about how far from the gates he is, and oh gods he hasn’t found Lup –

CLANG

Kravitz is looking at him like he’s seeing the end of the world and the moment stretches between them, a moment between two beats where Taako knows Kravitz is wondering if he’ll run, if he’ll go, but the moment is broken by another –

CLANG

Taako leaps into motion, turning sharply around to leave when he feels a had catch his arm and Kravitz is there again and he just says, “please”, like Taako can resist him when he looks so –

CLANG

He snaps back to attention, and in that moment, he makes a choice.

He pulls off the bracelet from his right wrist, one of the ones that the lady gave him, snapping it off and handing it to Kravitz, who looks at him, bewildered, and Taako explains, rushed,

“They’re two of a kind, I’ll have the other one, and if you really want to find me, you’ll –”

CLANG

Understanding overtakes Kravitz’s eyes, and he breathes, “of course,” and then Taako is kissing him, a hot, quick press of lips before the warmth of Kravitz is gone, and Taako is running, running through the garden and cursing his stupid dress, kicking off his shoes so he can go faster, leaving them behind on the stone walkways and cutting across manicured lawns, and stairs, so many stairs, he’s so going to trip.

CLANG

Gods damn it which way did he come?

CLANG

A sight of the glow of the ballroom through the serene trees has him taking off running again, running as fast as he can, past the finely-dressed people he comes across more frequently as he gets closer to the ballroom, and he’s almost sure he knocked someone over back there, but he can’t stop, and the way he’s hiking up his dress is far from decent for the company –

CLANG

He’s back by the ballroom and the crowd of people extends all the way to the edge of the doors out onto the wide colonnade and Taako begins to push through them, muttering apologies all the way, and likely looking, for all the world, like a madman, but he has to get out –

CLANG

He has to get out, his clothes are going to disappear at midnight, and he’s going to be exposed, and Tostaada will see, and Kravitz will see, and the crowd isn’t parting quick enough, and they’ll all see him, he isn’t going to make it –

CLANG

He must make a disturbance enough on the dancefloor once he gets there because all of a sudden, people are parting, and Taako is running again, and he knows they’re talking about him and he knows they see him, and they’re going to recognize him as the one with Kravitz, and the goddamn ballroom steps are too long

CLANG

He’s running, running down the hallways, down past the beautiful marble columns and past the shining throng entering the palace, past the guard stationed periodically, and his eyes are blurred and his lungs are burning as he fucking sprints and he’s almost there – he’s almost there, he’s almost made it out the castle doors, he can see them, wide open to the Neverwinter night in front of him –

CLANG

He crosses the threshold as the final bell tolls and thank the gods for the thick crowd of people still entering and exiting the palace because it’s nothing at all to slip into them as he feels the beautiful, heavy gown around him melt away until he’s left only in his rags, the shining bracelet from the woman the only thing left of his ensemble, even the pins that were holding his hair up falling away as they have every other night. And unencumbered, his heart still beating a mile a minute, he slips away into the shadowy Neverwinter night.

[notalwaysthevillian]

A Different Side of Hogwarts

Warnings: Manipulative Deceit, crying, there’s a cat

Beta Readers: @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @solemn-vow @patton-croc-agenda @kilala2tail

Word Count: ~2k

Pairings: None (yet)

Masterlist

Chapter 20

Important Note: This is the last time I’ll be adding my general taglist to this fic. If you’re on my general and want to continue to be tagged, let me know via ask or DM - if it’s in a reply I likely won’t see it.

Chapter 21

The holidays came to a close quicker than Patton would’ve hoped. Despite this, he was bouncing off the walls the day they left to go back to school. He’d get to see his friends again. They could ride together on the train!

As soon as the Hogwarts Express came into view, Patton hugged his parents goodbye. He grabbed his trunk and bounded up the steps, heading towards the back of the train. Hopefully his friends were already in their compartment. He couldn’t wait to give them their Christmas presents!

Through the glass door, he could see Logan with his nose buried in a book. He slid the door open, bouncing on his toes. “Hi Logan! It’s me, Patton!”

“Hello Patton.” The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “Did you enjoy your holidays?”

“Yeah! I had so much fun! My sisters and I made some snowpeople and went sledding and had some hot cocoa!” The words tumbled out of his mouth all in one breath.

Logan shook his head, constantly amazed by the amount of energy one person could have. “Do you need assistance with your trunk?”

“I think I got it.” His tone was uncertain, but Patton held up his wand anyway. “Wingardium leviosa!”

The trunk hovered for a moment before falling to the ground, sending Agatha darting up onto Logan’s shoulder.

Frowning, Patton pointed his wand at the trunk again, focusing harder on what he wanted to happen. “Wingardium leviosa!”

A loud bang sounded as the trunk slammed into the ceiling of the compartment. Redness rushed to Patton’s cheeks as he lowered it slightly, guiding it to the rack above them.

“Slightly overdone, but you did manage to levitate it.” A laugh left Logan’s mouth, but he looked mildly impressed.

Agatha crawled across Logan’s shoulder. With lightning speed, he had her in his lap. “Patton, did you take your potion?”

“You remembered?” Patton couldn’t help the squeal that fell from his mouth. He flung his arms wide, ready to hug Logan, but froze. His arms hovered in the air. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“If you must.”

The air was knocked out of Logan’s lungs as Patton pulled him into a tight hug.

Once released, Logan straightened his robes. “I am slightly offended that you thought I wouldn’t remember something so important. We are friends after all. At least, I am friends with you and Virgil. Roman is - well at this point he’s more of an acquaintance. A friend of a friend.”

“You just have to get to know him!” Patton held his arms out, allowing Agatha to jump into them. She snuggled up to him immediately, her purr drowning out the rumbling of the train.

Logan looked on, unable to tear his eyes away from how adorable the scene was.

“I love her.” Patton whispered, petting her gently.

It was the quietest Logan had ever heard him.

“She appears to like you as well.” With a free lap, Logan was able to return to his book. “Do you know if Virgil or Roman will be joining us? I would like to gauge the noise level before I get too far into this.”

Patton frowned. He’d hoped that Virgil and Roman would come down here on their own. Maybe they didn’t realize that Patton wanted to sit with them all?

“I’m not sure. But I’m going to go look for them and see! I’ll be right back.” Patton got up and slid the door open. Agatha protested when he tried to put her down. “Lo -”

“You may take her with you if you wish.”

“Thanks Logan!”

Agatha snuggled further into his arms, purring like a motorboat. Patton rubbed his face into her fur, looking in each compartment as he walked down the corridor. He kept his eyes peeled for his roommate or his Gryffindor pal.

Boisterous laughter poured out of one of the compartments up ahead. Patton looked inside, finding six Gryffindors. Roman sat in the middle, a bright smile on his face. When he spotted Patton, he held up a finger and started to wiggle out of the group.

Slipping into the corridor, he reached out and gently stroked Agatha. “What’s up, cat and the Pat?”

Patton let out a giggle at the rhyme. “I was wondering if you were going to come sit with us.”

Roman hesitated. “Who’s us?”

“Me, Logan, and possibly Virgil.”

“I think I saw Dr. Thunder sitting with his brothers at the front of the train.” A hand knocked on the glass. A redhead made a ‘hurry up’ gesture. “I - I think I’m going to stay here. My trunk is already put away and everything.”

“Oh.” Patton did his best to not let his shoulders deflate. “That’s okay! I’ll leave you to your friends then, and go find Virgil.”

“See you.”

“B-”

The door slid shut with a click. Roman turned his back on Patton and crawled over his friends, sliding back into his spot.

Agatha shifted, licking Patton’s fingers. He gave her a sad smile. “Let’s go find Virgil.”

They walked further down the hall, finding Virgil in the second compartment. His oldest brother was next to him, with Devin was sitting across. The latter had a smirk on his face that only grew when he spotted Patton.

Before he could move, the oldest brother had gotten up and opened the door. “Come on in. Patton, right? Virgil has only said good things about you.”

Patton grinned, faltering when he saw the tentativeness in Virgil’s eyes.

“I’d shake your hand, but it appears to be occupied.” The brother’s voice had Patton redirecting his focus. “I’m Preston Night. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting.”

“You’re Virgil’s oldest brother, right? The one who pranks?” Preston nodded at Patton’s statement, looking surprised when Patton leaned around him. “And you’re Devin. I hope we can get along.”

“Yeah, as if that would happen.” Devin scoffed.

Preston pushed his hair back. “Devin. He’s a pureblood, just like us.”

“I don’t care. He’s not in Slytherin.”

“Neither is Virgil.”

“Exactly.” Devin shot a look at Patton before choosing to look out the window instead.

Patton could tell he was still listening.

“Pat?” Virgil squeaked, getting his attention. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you, but...what are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you’d sit with us.” Agatha let out a loud meow, making three of them laugh.

“Who - who exactly is us?” Virgil’s eyes darted to Devin and back.

“Me and Logan.”

“Logan and me.” Virgil corrected automatically. “I’m going to stay here...with my brothers. But I’ll see you in our room, okay?”

Patton forced a smile onto his face. He could tell by the guilt in Virgil’s eyes that it wasn’t believable. “Okay. See you!”

Tears burned in the corners of his eyes as he made his way back to his compartment. If he hadn’t taken his potion, he’d be able to blame it on allergies. He blinked harshly, trying to rid himself of the tears before he re-entered the compartment.

Hearing Patton enter once more, Logan looked up from his book. “Seeing as how you’re alone, I suppose it’ll be just the two of us?”

“Three.” Patton said, gently putting Agatha down on the bench seat before sliding in next to her. She curled up in a ball, her back against his leg. Patton began to gently stroke her fur, struggling to think of a conversation topic. “Um...how was your Christmas, Logan? Or do you celebrate something else?”

“My family celebrates Christmas. And it was satisfactory.” His nose was buried in his book once more. “I received next year’s books from my parents so that I can get a head start. Remy gave me a new jacket. He said that I need to dress more casually. Honestly, it’s more his style than mine and it’s big enough that it would fit him, so I question if it was really a gift for me after all.”

Patton frowned. “I like the way you dress.”

Logan flipped a page. “As do I. So for now, the jacket will stay in my closet until Remy inevitably asks to borrow it.”

“Did you get anything for Christmas?” Patton asked as he scratched under Agatha’s chin. She began play-biting his fingers, making him jump.

Logan glanced up, a tiny smile on his face. “Actually, she did. I’m planning on continuing my weekly updates to my parents, so I thought it would be wise to get her a coat. She is quite small. I don’t want her to freeze in the cold.”

Patton let out a cooing sound. “I bet you look adorable in your coat, don’t you girl?”

The two chatted for a while before Logan slowly began to respond less and less. Patton stopped talking. He stroked Agatha, getting lost in his thoughts.

He would have to try harder to get Roman and Virgil to join them when they headed home for the year. It would be so much fun to sit together before summer break.

With Virgil’s family situation, it was unlikely that he’d be able to visit. And based on Roman’s reaction, he probably didn’t want to.

Maybe Logan would.

Pinks and oranges started to fill the sky as they reached the castle. Patton couldn’t help but gasp as they got off the train.

“Have you not seen the castle at sunset before?” Logan adjusted his glasses. “It’s much more breathtaking when the stars come out.”

“That sounds so pretty!”

“It is.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps we could stargaze sometime. As...practice. For our Astronomy homework.”

Patton nodded eagerly. “That sounds great!”

The two stopped at the stairs. Logan moved to the right and Patton to the left.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Logan!”

Patton bounded down the stairs, giddy from Logan’s offer.

His mood drastically changed when he saw his roommate sitting on his bed, hood pulled over his head and arms wrapped around his knees.

Patton held his arms open in a silent question.

Virgil’s face crumpled as he launched himself into Patton’s arms. He buried his face into Patton’s chest, and Patton could feel his t-shirt become wet with tears.

He half-dragged Virgil to his bed, putting him down and letting go only to draw the curtains. Once he laid down, Virgil latched onto him once more. Fat tears slid down his cheeks, but he made no noise.

It broke Patton’s heart.

“I’ve got you.” Patton whispered, rubbing Virgil’s back. “You’re safe now.”

It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Virgil’s tears stopped and his breathing evened out. Patton gently moved Virgil’s arms, earning a whine.

“I’m just going to get something to help you sleep. I’ll be back in less than thirty seconds. Promise.”

When Patton appeared out of the curtains, their other roommates all gave him the same concerned look. He waved them off, mouthing ‘I’ve got it’. They looked sceptical, but didn’t say a word.

Patton popped open Virgil’s trunk and lifted the lid. The bottle of sleeping potion was sitting on top of a rectangular package wrapped in black cloth. He grabbed the bottle and closed the lid before heading back to his bed.

“Here, drink some. It’ll help.”

Virgil reached for the bottle and did as Patton asked. When he handed it back, Patton put it on his bedside table.

“Do you want to sleep here or in your own bed?”

“I - I’d like to sleep here, but if you don’t want me to...I can sleep alone.” Virgil’s voice wavered.

Patton shook his head. “Virge, you can sleep here. It’s always okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Pulling the covers back, he nodded. They slipped under the blankets, Virgil cuddling up to him immediately.

The two of them fell into an easy sleep.

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[tsaitsaii]

Comfort fic where Jason finds Nico in his cabin curled up in blankets after not seeing him for about a week. Nico isn't in a very good state-more of a bad period of depression and hasnt showered or eaten im a while. Jason decides to help

send me jasico headcanons/prompts!

The Hades Cabin is a windowless building made of obsidian walls and smooth onyx railings. Compared to the other cabins nearby, it’s relatively small structure-wise, but its aura alone is enough to make any one person hesitate. There’s a skull embedded into the stone above the door, and greek fire crackles steadily at its sides, above black pillars. Though it’s in vicinity of the cabins, especially now that they’ve expanded and built new ones thanks to more gods claiming their children, it still manages to edge closer to the northern woods, nestled near a thicket of trees. It’s as apart as its sole inhabitant is, always there but never properly integrated.

Jason feels dwarfed standing in front of it, but he doesn’t let himself falter.

The door creaks quietly open when he turns the knob, the cabin’s interior pitch black before sunlight spills in across the floor. There’s a rustle of sheets but Nico otherwise doesn’t speak from the nest in his bed.

“Hey,” Jason says, soft, “you doing okay?”

No answer. He kind of expected that too. Jason takes Nico’s lack of hostility as an invitation and comes closer after closing the door and turning on the lamp, sitting on the edge of the bed before finally laying next to him. Nico doesn’t push him away, merely scoots a little bit.

His hair is oily at his scalp, the dark locks lanky and limp. He hasn’t bothered to change out of the pajamas he’s been wearing nonstop for the past four days, checkered black pants with a black t-shirt that’s twisted around his lithe frame, and he hides his face in his arms, curled around his pillow. He’s a little ball of shame, and Jason is grateful, because even though Nico is embarrassed he trusts Jason enough to let him see him like this, trusts him to try and help. Around him, the shadows seem stronger, caressing his body, a shield against whoever wants to come in.

“Did something happen?” No answer. “Bad memories?” Nico can’t reply, not because he’s upset or sad but because he simply can’t bring himself to. It’s as if there’s a weight on his chest he can’t get rid of. Jason understands, because they’ve been here before. Nico’s getting better every day, eating just a tad more, pushing himself to speak and smiling when he can, but there were off days, off weeks where he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, to face everyone. He was stuck in his head those days, trying in vain to fill the crater inside of him as it kept growing.

“Alright,” Jason finally says, not unkindly, “let’s change these sheets, yeah?”

There’s a bit of a pause before Nico’s pushing himself up, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He slides off of the mattress slowly before Jason stands too, turning on the rest of the lamps in the room until the shadows have grown sparse and thin. There are clothes littered along the floor, but Jason pays no mind to them.

Nico finally speaks, and his voice is a croak. “I should shower.”

Jason nods, “You gonna do that first?”

“Yeah.” It’s another minute or two before Nico’s got a fresh change of clothes in his arms, and the bathroom door shuts behind him.

By the time Nico’s out, appearing refreshed, Jason’s returned, a small plate of pasta with marinara sauce and meat in one hand, and an orange in the other. It’s routine now. Nico will shower, eat, and then Jason will help him some with cleaning. Depending on his mood, they’ll switch it up. If it’s not too bad they’ll go out for a walk. He just needs that push, needs someone to help him take that first step.

Eating is not a reward, but a chore. Nico isn’t hungry, but he forces himself to eat the food because he knows it’s a necessity, another step he needs to take. Luckily enough, he’s able to keep it down this time. As he’s focused on taking apart the orange peel with nimble fingers, he walks across the room to open the door, leave his wastebasket in front of it so it won’t shut. A fresh breeze trails in, rustles his damp hair as bits of orange drop into the basket alongside crumpled pieces of paper. Nico relaxes and Jason can’t help but smile.

An hour later, the Hades Cabin is clean enough to be ready for weekly inspection, the old sheets replaced with clean ones, Nico settled on top of them. He hasn’t spoken to Jason in all that time, and Jason hasn’t pushed him to, but now he manages a “Thanks,” his hands in his lap.

“Of course,” Jason says, and Nico pats the space next to him, moving so they can lay down together. His body is warm against Nico’s cool one, and he twists onto his side so that he’s facing him. Something in Nico’s eyes flickers. “Can we hug?”

“You know you don’t have to ask that anymore.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.” Something in Jason’s heart flutters when Nico smiles at him, a small tug of the lips as olive toned arms come up to wrap around his neck, bringing Jason close to his chest.

[little-werewolf-oven]

The Parent Escape

Billy Hargrove knew he'd been dealt a shitty hand in the game of life. But he doesn't realize how shitty until he gets thrown into a juvie camp meant to straighten out troubled boys and meets his exact double. Jason Scott, golden boy from Bumfuck, Indiana, shares way too much in common with him to be any kind of coincidence, and together they hatch a plan to find out what the hell is going on.

It's a genius plan, Billy's a great actor.

He just doesn't count on Jason's best friend to be so pretty.

Chapter 1: San Antonio

The heat is practically coming up in visible waves from the pavement as Billy steps off the bus, knock-off aviators sitting low on his nose, duffle bag slung easily over his left shoulder. The dust in the air burns his lungs, and his free hand instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, before remembering he’d moved them to his jacket on account of he’s been sitting on his ass for the past two days. A jacket that he wears like armor, even in the Texas heat. He’s tugging the half-empty pack from his interior pocket when a black man in a weird looking uniform walks toward him, giving him a steady once over before finishing his approach.

“You William Hargrove?”

“Billy,” Billy responds, tapping a cigarette from the pack and pulling it out using his lips, “You got a light?” To Billy’s surprise the man actually glances around before producing a cheap Bic lighter from his pocket.

“Shouldn’t,” he says, even as he thumbs at the flint in a well-practiced swipe, “but shit, kid, I had twenty bucks on you bailing somewhere around LA.” Billy raises an eyebrow as he leans in toward the flame, cigarette paper burning quickly as he takes a deep inhale.

“Can’t say I didn’t think about it,” smoke exhales through his mouth and nose as he relishes his first hit of nicotine in the past eight hours. The driver that picked up in El Paso didn’t stop for shit, and his dad had booked him on a non-smoking bus, likely a final “fuck you” for the summer.

He takes another drag, offering the pack to the other man, surprised again when he takes it, taps one out, and hands it back to him before lighting up himself.

“One last hurrah, yeah? They don’t allow this kinda stuff in there, you know?”

“Yeah, figured,” Billy says around the cigarette, taking a few steps into the shade of the bus station overpass. Dry heat his ass, it’s hot as fuck in San Antonio. The man follows him, and for a second Billy allows himself the tiniest bit of hope that this summer might not be so bad.

“Name’s Collins,” the man says, flicking his cigarette and not offering his hand, “I’m in charge of transportation and deliveries.”

“And which one am I?”

“I’ll decide once we get to the van.” He takes one more drag before tossing the butt to the ground and crushing it underneath his boot heel. Billy is loathe to follow suit but does so anyway, knowing he’s likely already pushed his luck to the limit. He follows Collins through the bus terminal and into a dusty parking lot to a rickety looking conversion van. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it’ll explode on the way.

“Toss your bag in the back, you can sit up front so long as you promise not to jump from the car.”

“Well shit, don’t go giving me ideas now, Collins,” Billy jokes, hoping a little levity will win him some points. Really, besides his dad, Billy’s always been pretty good at charming adults. Even half the police force in Emeryville thought he was an okay kid who just made some bad decisions. Teachers liked him, his friends’ parents liked him, it was just his own parent who saw him as a worthless piece of shit who needed to be taught some discipline. ‘Tough love’ he liked to call it.

Billy slings his bag into the back of the van, among boxes of plastic cutlery and hotdog buns, before hopping into the front seat. Pop cans and fast food wrappers litter the footwell, the smell suggesting not all of them had been completely empty before being balled up and tossed. He shoots a baleful glance at Collins - getting situated in the driver’s seat - before reclining his own seat back as far as it can go. After nearly two days on the ridgid seats of the Greyhound this was paradise.

“Drive’s about 45 minutes. Get some shut eye if you need, cause when you get to SACC they’re gonna run you til nightfall.” Collins warns before slipping the key into the ignition. To Billy’s surprise the engine turns on the first try, vibrating the floor boards just enough to feel soothing.

“Thanks man,” he says, and means it. The heat and the travel exhaustion leave his eyelids heavy, and it’s not a challenge at all to let sleep overtake him.

He dreams about the ocean.

++++

Too soon he’s being shaken awake, startled out of sleep by a pair of hands gripping onto his left arm.

“C’mon kid, time to pay the piper.” It takes Billy a full 15 seconds to remember who’s talking and where he is. And then it all comes flooding back to him. The stolen car, the vandalism, his dad’s fists, Susan crying. He rubs a hand over his face, nudging his sunglasses into his tangled curls as he pushes his fingertips into his eyes so hard he starts to see spots.

“Best if you sit up, first impressions and all,” the man, Collins, Billy remembers, says as he puts the van back into drive. Billy’s hand gropes blindly for the lever, squeezing it and snapping the seat forward so fast he thinks he might have whiplash. He’s rubbing at his neck as the van makes the transition from paved to dirt roads, shocks so worn every rock and divot is felt. He takes these last few moments to rub the sleep out of his eyes and tuck his sunglasses into his front pocket before attempting to detangle his hair. Collins is right about one thing, first impressions are everything, especially in a place like this.

“You ready?” He asks as the van comes rumbling up to a heavy chain link fence, complete with barbed wire on top.

“Not like I have much choice,” Billy mutters, giving up on his hair and wishing he’d thought of a way to sneak his cigarettes in. Or some weed. Fuck, some weed would be great right now.

Another guy in a weird uniform comes up to the van, and Collins rolls down the window and hands a few papers and a card to him. Billy gulps, throat gone dry as he watches the man’s eyes scan over the papers, and after a quick hand signal the gate is rolled open. He hands everything back to Collins, who accepts with a nod before setting the small pile on the dash and putting the van back into drive. The window stays open despite all the dust they’re kicking up on the road, and Billy is able to smell the mixture of sun and sweat and dirt.

It’s not long before they’re surrounded by ugly tan buildings and a dead looking field, grass fried from the scorching sun and lack of water. Goddamn he misses Cali. There are some people in uniforms like Collins’, but mostly he sees guys around his age wearing a white t-shirt tucked into khaki pants and heavy boots, doing stuff that looks like calisthenics or drills like they’d do in gym class when Coach was feeling particularly sinister.

Collins parks the van in front of a large but otherwise nondescript building. A man in fatigues and a crew cut is standing outside, eyeing the vehicle, mouth quirked up as his gaze lands on Billy.

“Ho-ly shit, he actually came,” the man crows in a heavy southern accent as he walks over to the van. “Ya owe me twenty bucks there, Coll.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll get it to ya. Where’m I takin’ ‘im?”

“Barrack 6, uniform’s on his bunk,” he gives Billy another scrutinizing look, “we’ll deal with the hair later.” Billy tries to keep the terror out of his eyes as Collins nods, putting the van into drive once more. His heart is beating wildly as they drive across the campus, passing another group of… cadets? Prisoners? Billy looks harder this time, trying to see if the guy was using a scare tactic, or if it was a real threat. None of the boys seem to have long hair, but not many have a shorn look, either, at least as much as he can tell as the van moves along. He guesses he could ask Collins, but doesn’t want to show his hand so soon.

They roll to a stop in front of a grey building with a large 6 painted on the side. Collins puts the car in park and turns to look at Billy.

“Listen, kid, I’m not gonna lie, this place sucks. But keep your head down and your nose clean and you’ll be okay.”

“Are they gonna…” he trails off, pointing towards his hair. Collins presses his lips together, making Billy’s gut clench.

“Well,” he says after a moment, “the good news is mullets are on their way out. And hair grows back, so just deal with it.” His words belay the softness in his eyes, a sadness Billy is surprised to find is for him.

“Thanks, Collins,” he says before setting the slightly crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes on the center console, “Hang onto these for me, will ya?” And then he’s squeezing the handle and releasing the door latch. He hops out and takes a couple seconds to stretch his back out before going around to grab his bag. Collins gives him a small salute as the truck rumbles off, and Billy is left alone in front of the ugly barracks. He slings has bag over his right shoulder, takes a deep breath, and struts in.

+++++

It doesn’t take long for Billy to learn the ropes around this place. Years of navigating Neil’s temper have taught him how to read facial tics and body language, know when to push and when to bow.

But that’s just with the sergeants.

The cadets are a whole other matter. Billy doesn’t have to waste time reading them, he just has to own them. Assert his dominance and sit on the top of the pile. All it takes is a couple of punches before he’s the head of his barracks. After that he can rely mostly on word of mouth and attitude to raise him to the top ranks of the whole campus.

It’s a whole week before he’s finally led to the make-shift barber shop. He puts on a ‘fuck if I care’ face, but on the inside his heart is beating a mile a minute. For just a few seconds he contemplates fighting his way out and making a break for it, but knows it would be stupid, pointless. Too many people to stop him, and nowhere to run. Story of his fuckin life.

He sucks in a breath and clenches his fists as he hears the razor start up, pushing down the bile as he feels its teeth on the back of his neck, curly locks dropping to the ground. It’s just hair, it’s just hair repeats over and over in his head, but it’s not, not really. It’s him, being erased in this place.

It’s too long and no time at all before the razor stops, and he feels hands brushing stray strands off his shoulders. He pries his eyes open, not even sure when he shut them, and looks at his new hair. He blinks back the tears, absolutely unwilling to show that kind of weakness, and hears his father’s slurs in his head.

Fuck but his dad would love this haircut.

He juts out his chin, nods at the men essentially keeping him captive, and goes out the door. Normally the fresh air would help him keep his composure, but all he sucks in is heat and dust, and it makes him want to scream. He bites down on his bottom lip and starts heading back to the barracks when he hears someone shouting at him.

“Jason? Yo, Jason! Where the fuck’re you headed? We’re at the wall.” Billy gives him a sneer and keeps moving, right until he feels fingers clasp around his arm. He doesn’t even have time to think before his body is twisting around and he’s decking the guy in the jaw. A couple cadets he hadn’t even noticed come running over, one excitedly shouting “Fight!” while the other stares at them with eyes like saucers.

The other guy stands up, hand on his jaw, and glares at Billy, “Jason, what the fuck? Why the fuck di’you hit me?”

“Who the fuck is Jason?” Billy spits, getting ready to throw another punch when he hears a shrill whistle. He drops his fist and puts his hands behind his head, palms brushing up against the foreign prickle of his new haircut.

“Scott! Marsden! The fuck’s going on?” Billy snaps his eyes at the approaching sergeant, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Scott decked Marsden!” The excited kid, a toothy redhead, practically shouts, and Billy is so far past confused now. He turns to face the sergeant.

“Sir, I’m not Jason, or Scott, or Marsden-”

“I’m Marsden-”

“I don’t fuckin’ care, my name is Billy Hargrove, I’m in barrack six, and my CO is gonna be looking for me.”

“F’you’re in barrack six why’re you all the way over here?”

“Getting my haircut... sir,” he tacks that last bit on, knowing men who think they’re the authority liked to hear it, and he doesn’t want to get tossed in the brig or the hole or whatever the fuck they call it around here, whatever’s worse than the prison he’s already in. The guy gives Billy a hard look, eyes squinting, and even leans in a little before sucking at his teeth and pulling the radio from his belt.

“Sgt. Ford, you copy?” It’s a few seconds before the radio clicks and a fuzzy “Copy,” is heard.

“This is Sgt. Kern, you have eyes on Jason Scott?”

“Sure do. Just finished the wall.”

“That so?” Kern drawls, eyes never leaving Billy.

“Yep. Why, want me to put him on?”

“Nope, just clearing up some stuff. Over and out.” He clicks the radio back onto his belt, still staring at Billy. “You boys get back to where you’re headed, Hargrove and I are gonna take a walk to barrack six.” The three boys take off immediately, and Billy grits his teeth as Kern grabs his arm, leading him roughly back to where he’d been headed in the first place. Billy may not know who Jason Scott is, but he’s definitely going to beat his ass for this.

Continued over at my one true love, AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569751/chapters/36146499