#like trying to make a fire with two sticks sort of slow burn

[xxsabitoxx]

Blizzard {Giyu x Reader Imagine}

Warnings: Unprotected sex, outdoor sex, big dicks lmao, creampies, praise kink, awkward fumbling, rough sex, breeding kink, delirious dirty talk, possessive Giyu

A/N: this isn't the surprise fic!!! This was supposed to be a short imagine but I got a bit carried away and it's turned into a decent sized fic lol. ENJOY!!

Word Count: 4K

You were sitting side by side in a dark cave, shivering slightly as you tried to process your current situation. A joint effort mission up in the mountains wasn’t exactly unusual, considering many slayers had unfortunately disappeared over the course of a few months after being sent up here. “Do you think there is enough material in here to make a fire? I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here any time soon… it’s too dangerous to send our crows out.” You squinted at the water pillar, his eyes focused on the cave wall opposite of the two of you. “It’s likely just rocks, not enough to start a fire unless a bird or some animal left something up here.” 

You sighed, pushing yourself upwards to begin rummaging around. Nevermind needed fire to see, you needed fire for warmth. There was no way the two of you would survive up here without some sort of warmth. “We’ll have to look around then…” Giyu watched you move deeper into the cave, getting up himself to accompany you. Getting sent on a joint mission wasn’t odd, but being paired together certainly was. Typically Shinobu would be the one to accompany Giyu on these missions, however she was busy with a wave of patients at the butterfly estate. Though, Giyu couldn’t really complain. If there was any other hashira he wouldn’t mind getting stuck in a cave with, it would be you. You were probably the least judgemental and the only one who he didn’t feel awkward trying to converse with beside Shinobu and Rengoku. 

“The storm will probably go through the night, it doesn’t seem to be slowing any time soon.” The only way you were able to see each other was due to the moonlight bouncing off of the falling snow by the entrance of the cave. “Then we really need to hope some animal abandoned a nest up here… if not we’re going to freeze to death.” You really didn’t want to die in a cave. You both moved forward, rummaging around the cave for what felt like an hour until finally… “Here! Something must have been living up here.” Brush, sticks and rocks were piled into some odd shaped nest. Not that it really mattered, all that mattered was that you had enough material to make a fire for at least a few hours. “Great…” his voice was a bit strained, the cold was already getting to him. In your own excitement, you had briefly forgotten how cold you were as well. 

“We should probably make it a little further up, there were some rocks that would block the fire from getting hit by the draft.” Giyu brought his hands to his mouth, blowing warm air on them as you gathered enough sticks and brush to start a small fire. You carried the materials back, sitting down as Giyu got to work creating the pile and creating a flame. You were starting to lose feeling in your fingers as a small spark erupted before turning into a burning flame. You both let out sighs of relief, pushing past any awkwardness as Giyu moved to settle beside you. In situations like this, body heat would be your best friend. “Do you really think it will last through the night?” the chill was subsiding just a bit, you were no longer shivering uncontrollably. “It’s likely. We’ll have to be ready to leave the moment it looks like it’s letting up.” 

“But what if we start moving and it begins again? Then we’ll be stuck in the snow with no shelter.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking over your words. “We’ll have to hope it clears all together.” He glanced at your crows, both huddled together by the flame and covered with some of the brush for extra warmth. “I guess so…” you sighed, watching your breath fan out around you. “We should try and get some rest… or take turns so we can make sure the fire doesn’t go out.” You could already feel your eyes getting heavy, leaning into Giyu’s shoulder subconsciously. “It’s probably for the best, you sleep first and I’ll watch the fire.” You hummed out a response, eyes closing as your body relaxed. His warmth on your side and the fire before you was enough to lull you into shallow comfort. 

Your sleep didn’t last long, maybe forty minutes had passed before you woke up shivering. The fire was still going strong, but the sheer cold of your environment was outweighing the warmth before you. “It doesn’t seem to be letting up…” Giyu spoke softly, watching as you pushed yourself upwards. The sudden loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, the warmth fled just as quickly as you pulled away. “Shit…” you cringed, moving  yourself back over to press against his side again. This situation left no room for awkward feelings when it came to personal space. Giyu was shivering worse than you, haori pulled tightly around him, knees pulled to his chest. You needed a way to keep warm, the fire wasn’t cutting it and neither was huddling together like this. 

“I have an idea…” you spoke softly, eyes shutting as you remembered a particular survival tip. You weren’t sure if it would work, hell someone could have been lying to you for shits and giggles. But you were  desperate enough  to give it a shot. “Yeah? What is it…” you swallowed, focusing on the fire as you mulled over your options. “I’m… not sure if it will work but it’s something I was told a few years back…” you started, pulling your legs to your chest to mimic his position. “The best way to keep warm in situations like this… is skin to skin contact.” Your words hung in the air for a few beats of silence before Giyu mustered up a response. “So you’re saying we need to strip?” If you weren’t so cold, you may have laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I-I mean we don’t need to be fully…uhm…nude but like… our tops…need to come off.” 

You glanced at him, jumping just a bit when you realized he was already looking right at you. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before you finally started moving. “We’ll freeze to death if we just keep staring at each other.” You were shouldering off your haori, your own embarrassment outweighing the cold as you fumbled with the buttons of your top. Beside you, Giyu was watching intently as he too pulled his haori off. “S-stop watching.” You ground out as your top fell to the floor beside you. Pushing up on your knees, you watched as Giyu’s skin was revealed to you. Muscles wrapped his body, scars littering his torso. You wished you were seeing him like this under better circumstances. That thought  made you look away, this was no time to think such lewd things. But the way he was looking at you… 

A moment later, you were both shivering and topless. You stood before him, watching as he shifted his legs open. “The easiest way to d-do this is for you to sit on my lap. We’ll uh… face each other and hug? If that makes sense.” He concluded, his cheeks red from embarrassment and the cold air blowing in from the storm. You nodded, eyes focusing on a spot just above his shoulder so you didn’t have to look directly at him. You clambered awkwardly into his lap, closing the distance by pressing your chest to his and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly in hopes of slowing your racing pulse. Giyu’s arms snaked around you, grabbing his haori and throwing it over you. You tried to focus on your breathing, nerves getting the best of you regardless. 

It was deafeningly silent, neither of you speaking as you were waiting for some sort of relief. Though, you really couldn’t tell if it was helping at all, instead of warmth you were more focused on the rise and fall of his chest pressed to yours. You were all too aware of the muscles pressing into your softer skin, the pressure of his grip on your body. Then, finally, if you could push all of that aside, you’d be able to focus on if this was even helping at all. If anything, you were hoping Giyu would be the first to speak up. Unknown to you, he was going through the same mental battle. Your body was soft, your chest squished against his. The weight of your arms around his neck paired with the pressure of your lap on his was enough to let his mind wander to dirtier places. If he wasn’t so damn cold, he would let himself think this was for more than warmth. 

“I-is it helping?” your voice is hushed, you couldn’t speak above a whisper if you tried. “I can’t t-tell yet.” Giyu was trying to force his body to relax, his own nerves were beginning to put a death grip on your body. Not that you minded, you were fairly certain your arms were squeezing his neck. How he could breathe, you weren’t quite sure. You remained silent for a few more minutes, the body heat trick was beginning to work but both of you were too caught up in your nerves to even realize. “Y-you know…” Giyu started softly, a particular survival trick coming to his mind now. It was from Uzui, so naturally he didn’t trust there was any science behind it… “Yeah?” you spoke softly, muscles just barely beginning to relax into his embrace. 

“Uzui uh… he told me about another way to create heat during situations like this…” he swallows, debating on if it was even worth saying. Then again, you squirmed a bit in his lap and all logical reasoning went out of his mind. “Oh…Uzui gave you survival tips?” you couldn’t even begin to imagine where he was taking this. “I think he was fucking with me… but he said that a good way to create body heat is uh…friction.” He squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed that he couldn’t just spit it out. “Friction… as in…” You figured he meant sex. “As in… intercourse.” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Intercourse? What are you, eighty?” you forgot about your nerves momentarily, pushing off of him a bit to meet his gaze. “You’re suggesting we have sex?” The red on his cheeks seemed to spread, down his neck and up to his ears. “Y-yeah.” 

“I-if it’ll keep us from freezing to death…” you begin, eyes locking with his. “It’s purely for the sake of survival…” he added to your reasoning. “It’s not like anyone will know…” you continued, searching his eyes for validation. “It’s to save our lives… completely justified.” he concluded, hands gripping your waist just a bit harder. “T-then let’s do it…” you swallowed, throat a bit dry as heat began to pool in your gut. You were already forgetting about the cold, clit throbbing as you felt Giyu twitch to life beneath you. “Yeah…let’s do it…” you don’t quite recall who moved in first. All you knew is that his lips were pressed to yours, your hands tangling in his long, black hair and tugging at the surprisingly soft strands. All the while, Giyu’s slender fingers were nimbly undoing your bottoms, trying to shove his hand down as far as it would allow. 

You mewled against his parted lips, cool fingers meeting the scorching heat of your cunt. He made a noise that sounded something like a strangled whimper. “N-no time to mess around… I need you in me… let me warm up.” Your breaths mingled, heat growing steadily between the two of you as the blizzard raged on outside. “I-I’ll hurt you if I go right in.” he murmured, lifting his hips for you as you pulled the belt and his bottoms apart. “I can take it…” or so you thought. The last thing you expected was… “Christ, Giyu. What the fuck…” Your heart thumped wildly at the sheer size of him. “I told you…” if you tore your eyes away from his cock, you would have seen the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You’re massive…” you were saying it more out of shock than a complement but he twitched regardless, keen and eager to accept your praises. 

“Which is exactly why I’m not rushing this…” He’s slipping two fingers between your slit, collecting your warm arousal on his finger tips before dipping them inside your awaiting entrance. Giyu watches your face, studying the way your pupils seem to dilate, watching as a breathy whine slips past swollen lips. His saliva is glistening on them, drawing him in to kiss you again. He wants to see you covered, not only in his bites and marks, but in his cum. He swallows against your lips, fingers stretching you open awkwardly as you try to get your pants off without interrupting him. It’s not going to happen, pants be damned for the time being, all you can focus on is his fingers brushing along the spongy parts of your walls. “G-giyu…” your hips are driving down on them, begging him to add a third finger in. 

He stills you with his other hand, introducing a third finger slowly before moving his hand from your hip to tangle back in your hair. He holds you in place, tongue slipping past parted lips and sliding around your own. He could sob as your smaller hands wrap around his length, offering him warmth and relief as you pump him slowly. Your fingers toy with the tip, collecting his pre before dragging them delicately down his shaft. You take a mental note of the veins that feel oh so prominent against your fingers. It’s not nearly wet enough, but Giyu isn’t willing to let you tear your mouth from his. Your squelching as his fingers fuck you open, any sort of discomfort melting away to wet pleasure as you suck him in. You’re aching for his cock, clit throbbing in neglect as you try to pull your head away from his iron grip. 

“T-this is more than enough… Please, I can take it. I’m a big girl you know, Giyu. Your cock isn’t going to break me.” You’re fighting to keep your gaze on his, yelping as he retracts his fingers. “If you’re so eager, take your pants off and put it in yourself.” His tone is as icy as the weather outside and you find yourself jumping up to follow his commands. Giyu pushes his pants down further in order to not ruin them, watching as your bare cunt is exposed to him in the golden, shadowy light of the cave. You’re on your knees again a moment later, grabbing his base and angling your hips in a certain way so the dull head of his cock is pressing to your entrance. “Do me a favor…” it’s your turn to bark out a command, he’s more than willing to listen. “Rub my clit.” You would laugh at yourself if you weren’t so serious. You knew the stretch would still be a bit uncomfortable, you needed something to pull your mind from it. 

Giyu didn’t question it, hand coming down to rub circles on your pulsating cunt. You sunk down slowly, biting your inner cheek as he speared you open. You didn’t slow down, dropping your hips lower until half of him was sheathed inside of you. You were torn between pain and pleasure, thighs aching already from the effort of keeping yourself up. Giyu’s gaze was shifting between your face and where he was disappearing inside of you. You held your breath, sinking lower until there was barely any space between you. One more go and he would be fully inside of you, yet you were mentally wondering how you’d go about doing that. You swore he was pressing into your cervix, that there was no way you could fit the rest of him. “Fucking Christ, Giyu…” you scolded him, as if he had any control over the size of his dick.  

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to handle it… there is no need to rush-oh.”  you sat down the rest of the way, fighting the urge to immediately pull back up from the pressure. “I… can take it.” you grounded out, eyes shutting against your will as your walls spasmed around him. “Yeah…seems like it.” Giyu grounded out, fingers still diligently rubbing your clit as you tried to adjust. “I… got it in…  did what you asked…” you huffed, raising your hips slightly to slowly drop down again. “Fuck me… please Giyu.” you were giving up, skin nearly burning as you were waiting for his response. Instead of saying anything, he flipped you. Just like the kiss, everything seemed to happen in a blur for you. You barely registered the ice cold stone pressing to your bare back as Giyu hovered over you, hair falling down around you. You must have tugged the tie of his ponytail at some point.

“I’ll fuck you, just like you want, but you have to promise me something first.” you were looking up at him with wide eyes, hands by your head because you didn’t know what to do with them. “Anything… anything you want to hear, I’ll say it.” You were losing your sanity in this situation. Whether it be from the cold or his dick, regardless you were willing to do anything he asked of you in that moment. “Promise me you can handle this.” His voice is husky, eyes lidded as his hips rock gingerly into you, too eager to stay still. “Promise… I can take it.” That was all he needed to hear, hips drawing back half way just to snap back into you. The moan you let out was nothing short of animalistic, heat blossoming over your face as the noise seemed to echo. It only fueled him, hips repeating the motion over and over, addicted to the way your breasts and thighs jiggled with the force of his movements. 

“C’mon, you’re doing so good for me.” He’s shifting his weight onto one hand, reaching down between your bodies to toy with your clit again. “I can feel it already, you’re going to cum all over my cock, aren’t you? Make a fucking mess of me, yeah?” you’re babbling nonsense, agreeing with every word he says as his cock stretches you just right. “It’s a damn shame, nobody is going to know we did this… our own little secret. Nobody is going to know how good I fucked you.” your eyes are watering, not expecting this side of Giyu. “Then again…” he buries deep, forcing you to look at him as he lowers his head. “We could do this any time you want, I’d gladly be at your mercy.” You nearly choke on air, unable to get enough in your lungs as he looks at you. “You’d like that, wouldn't you?” He’s moving again, watching tears well and slip down your temples. 

“You’d love for me to fuck you where everyone can hear. Let everyone know that lame ass water hashira is dicking you down, real fucking good.” You’re nearly drooling, fucked stupid, drunk off his cock and the terribly degrading words. “Tell me, tell me how good I make you feel… tell me how you’ll never be satisfied by another cock.” He’s lost in his own pleasure, the warmth of your pussy enveloping him, forcing him to utter words he shouldn’t say out loud. “Never… I’ll never be satisfied… fuck… by an–ah..another.” you’re babbling again, this time it’s just a bit more intelligible as he pounds into you. You’re coming before you can prepare yourself, body arching upwards as your eyes squeeze shut. You’re tense all over, wailing loudly as Giyu fucks you through your high, no intentions of stopping. “Good girl… fuck that’s my good girl…” 

He’s watching your arousal cling to his shaft with every thrust, collecting at the base in a sticky ring. He could cum just from the sight of it. “Your good girl…” you whine, hands clinging to his biceps as he continues to rut into you. You can’t even feel the sting on your back, the ache of your thighs as your legs are wrapped around his hips, nor can you feel the pain of overstimulation as it’s already returning as arousal. “Come in me… please Giyu… need you to keep me warm even after you leave me.” you can’t think straight, mind fuzzy and vision blurry as you clench around him. You want to feel his warmth impossibly deep, even deeper than he is now. “W-what if I knock you up? Then what?” He chokes, your pleas are too appealing to deny. “Then everyone will really know how good you fucked me…fuck… just think about it, yeah?” 

Your head is falling back, chest heaving as your pleasure grows to be overwhelming. “Think about you? Stomach swollen because you’re carrying my baby? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Everyone to know I fucked you so good you let me cum in you, breed your greedy, fertile cunt?” You’re squealing, not used to Giyu being so bold. “Yes! Fuck how many times do I have to say it?! Cum in me… please…” it left your lips in a broken prayer, urging him to just give in even though the logical part of his mind was screaming at him to pull out. He doesn’t, hips forcing into you with one last, hard thrust. Spilling the contents of his release deep inside of you, ears ringing from the sheer force of it. You’re gasping for air with him, shivering despite the warmth you feel as his release fills you. Your heart is pounding, blinking stars from your eyes as your body relaxes for the first time since getting stuck in this cave. Giyu, on the other hand, is tense, forcing air back into his lungs before he can look at you again. 

“U-uzui’s advice worked.” you choke out, giggling as Giyu nearly collapses on you. “It… it did.” his head is buried in your neck, inhaling the scent of you, skin slightly sweaty and warm. There was not one ounce of cold you could be bothered by, feeling warm from the inside out, especially with Giyu still inside of you. “This storm better end soon…” you could only begin to imagine the cold air biting your damp skin as soon as your body regulated again. “Sick of me already?” His voice is muffled against your neck, forcing a smile on your lips. “No… definitely not…maybe the storm could do us a favor and last at least a few more rounds…” you're running your fingers through his hair, tensing a bit as he raises again to pull his softened dick out of you slowly. “No… not yet.” you stop him in his tracks, hips gingerly pressing the little he took out, back in. 

“I don’t want to lose any of that…just yet.” coming out of your lust filled dazed, you are slightly worried about the possible consequences of your hormone induced actions. Giyu only hums, mind wandering about the possibilities of what you two had just done. That was something to worry about when you weren’t technically in a life or death situation. His  eyes trailed over your unmarked neck, mind wandering to the things he wanted to do to it. Slowly he’s moving back up to your swollen lips, the urge to bite them clawing at the back of his mind. He doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to you again until you’re laughing softly. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit… for warmth….” you wink at him, watching that blush blossom across his pale cheeks yet again. Giyu’s head is falling forward, huffing out a small “...for warmth.” as he kisses you again.

[chlorinecake]

ｃｏｎｖｅｎｉｅｎｔ ｃｈａｎｃｅｓ II

🎱 pairing: yandere!stalker!enhypen x fem!reader

🎱 cw: language, non-con kissing and touching, reader gets tortured-ish, slight dumbification, use of the nickname "doll"

🎱 wc: 3k — read part one and three here

YOU AWOKE TO the feeling of the once running vehicle coming to a complete stop, doors unlocking at every which side.

Niki nudged your exhausted body, “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Meanwhile, Heeseung hooked his arms under your armpits, guiding you out of the car. Your legs hit the ground, drawing your attention to your surroundings. From what you could tell, it was still fairly late in the night, and you were in the middle of the woods. Not too unfamiliar of a scene to you, but still a good ways away from civilization.

Jake ran over to hold your feet, Heeseung and him now holding you in a hammock position. They carried you past a campfire to a ledge on the cliff where the rest of the boys were standing ominously, Sunoo deciding to stay back in the car.

“Now look. We're not gonna hurt you unless we have to, so consider this all an unruly warning. A reminder of who you belong to,” Jay slithered, grabbing a stick from the ground to trail your frightened features. “You're not making any sense, Jay! If this was all apart of your plan to get my attention, why’d you have to kill Mandy?”

The six boys exchanged looks, laughing hysterically at your pitiful state.

“We didn’t kill her, jackass,” Sunghoon spat.

“What do you think life is? Some sort of simulation where people do the same things every single day?”

“She got the night off,” Jake finished, “so I covered for her shift.”

You internally sighed in relief, "Great, so you’re just trying to scare me, then?”

Heeseung peered at you from above, “Are you scared?”

You spat in his face, causing him to snicker in amusement. He dropped one of your arms to wipe your spit from his face, holding you up by one arm. “I like her," he grinned, reached down to squeeze your cheek harshly.

Jay stuck the stick he held in the fire before sealing the red hot edge at the side of your waist.

“Ahhgg,” you groaned in pain, provoking Jay to dig the burning stick even further into your skin, “Don’t fuck this up for me, love. I'm trying to be nice here, and you're only making things more difficult.”

“Alright, ladies, let’s stay on track, please,” Jungwon complained, impatiently nudging Jay’s shoulder.

“Right. We’re gonna ask you a question. Though, there’s only one right answer.”

“W-wha-what?"

“Slow down, dummy. Let him finish,” Niki retorted at your stuttering.

“Fuck this, walk her to the ledge,” Sunghoon directed, Heeseung and Jake guiding your frame to the cliff, their grips tightening around your wrists and ankles the more you struggled against them.

“It’s like you want us to punish you,” Heeseung smirked, swinging you back in forth dangerously close to the edge, Jake chuckled at your trembling. You screwed your eyes shut, preferring not to see whether they’d actually throw you over the cliff or not.

Jay stood in the background, observing your terror before speaking.

“There are two ways this night can end, ____. One, you fight back and my boys will do with you as they please.”

Jungwon and Niki snickered to each other.

Your lower lip quivered at the sound of their devilish tone's, feeling your arms and legs go numb from the awkward position you hung at.

“Two, you and I continue our relationship as if nothing ever changed and you swear your loyalty to me.”

“Booooo,” Sunghoon whined sarcastically, “I like the first option better.”

“The choice is yours, love. So choose wisely.”

“Fuck," you groaned exhaustedly, "fine! I’ll go with you! Just please make them put me down!”

“Tsk tsk tsk. You were so close, love, but I’m not sure if I favor the delivery of your answer. Try again, sweetheart, I know you can do it.”

“J-Jay,” your voice cracked with frustration, feeling the two rascals starting to swing you again.

You hated that he persisted on making this a difficult situation for you, even though you had already complied. You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the moisture in your eyes before continuing.

“I’ll go with you, Jay. I swear, I won’t leave you again!”

“And?”

“And my love and loyalty belongs to you, Jay. Always and forever.”

The wilderness fell silent, the sound of your jagged breaths filling the atmosphere.

Jay kneeled down to meet your tired figure that hung in the air, pulling your face to his before kissing the corner of your lips.

“I know, my love. And I’ve worked so hard to make sure you finally know that, too.”

He gave Jake and Heeseung a look before they released your aching limbs from their hostile grasp, your body flopping on the rocky ground.

“Eugh,” you grunted as Jay pulled you into his hold.

“All of you get in the car!” Sunghoon ordered, rounding up the rest of the boys as Jay carried you to the vehicle, dropping his friends off at their places before bringing you back to his house.

Your new “home.”

THE NEXT DAY, you and Jay were at a fancy restaurant just like old times. He bought you the most lovely black dress and stilettos to wear for the evening, complimented with pearl accents that matched his fancy wrist watch. It had been a while since you went out for food other than the convenience store, especially not with your ex-boyfriend.

He pulled your chair out for you before sitting at the other side of the table, analyzing the menu before initiating small talk.

“So, how’s life been? We haven't had many opportunities to catch up in a while.”

You ran a finger over the dish titles under the plastic covering of the menu, “I don’t see the point in discussing my life details with you when I’m sure you’ve already seen everything.”

Jay paused for a moment as if hitting a brick wall, clenching his jaw at your reply.

“Can’t you see I’m trying here, ____?” He pleaded, looking into your frustrated eyes, “I know I can’t take back what I’ve done to you, but this is a start. I already explained that my intentions were noble, I just-“ he paused again.

“You’re just crazy about me, right? Is that it?” You teased, crossing your legs under the table.

Jay snickered, showcasing his cat-like teeth.

“See? I knew you understood me,” he feigned glee, peering in a little closer over the table before whispering, “now stop disrespecting me or I’ll take your ass home and demonstrate just how crazy you make me.” His hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze that didn’t match the cruel nature of his words.

What was wrong with him?

“Good evening, and welcome to The Diamond. What can I start you guys off with? Drinks, appetizers?”

"I'll start with an iced lemon water,” Jay smiled, “and for you, love?”

“Iced water sounds lovely,” you smiled back, fighting the urge to kick him under the table.

“Anything else before we move onto entrées,” the waiter asked. Your eyes were so stuck on a Jay that you hadn’t realized it was Niki dressed as the server. You felt like the ceiling was caving in on you.

“Is everything okay, Miss?” Niki asked sarcastically, tilting a mocking head at your anxious state.

“Y-yes, I’m alright,” you stammered, trying to remain calm.

“I’ll let you know if we need anything else,” Jay finished, Niki bowing before running off to serve other tables.

“You brought back up?” You scoffed, shaking your head at him.

“No, doll, I’ve only ordered water so far. No need to panic, I’m paying anyways,” he chuckled, observing the menu once again.

You hated the nickname doll, as it only added to your circumstances of being his play thing. You watched as a thick bead of water trailed down the side of your glass, a bright yellow lemon floating in the mixture. You stuck your bare hand into the cup, bringing the lemon to your lips to suck on.

The slurping noises you made caught Jay’s attention, “What’re you doing, ____?” He asked in shock at your sudden change in behavior.

A few drops of the lemon dripping on your tits, drawing Jay's attention to your cleavage. You got up from the table, feeling Niki's threatening gaze burn holes into your back. You pushed your chest out, “Can you clean me up, Jay? I’m such a mess,” you pouted getting on your knees for him.

“____, this isn’t funny. You know better than to act out in a place like this.”

“Don’t keep your dumb doll waiting, Jay-Jay,” you ignored him, reaching a hand to stroke his thighs.

He snatched your wrist with such a force that the contact with his skin and yours made a snapping sound.

“That was your last strike, love. You don’t get any more chances to behave.”

For whatever reason, you didn’t feel threatened by his words. You knew that your actions would only lead to the inevitable cycle that Jay planned to evoke on you anyways.

He guided you through the restaurant, a few people observing the event in disgust. “She’s just a little tipsy,” Jay remarked halfheartedly, rushing through the doors before shoving you in the passenger's seat of his truck.

“What the hell was that, Jay?”

“Pfft, you’re asking me that?”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you bring your goons around to watch me? When you threaten my safety over my emotions?”

Jay shook his head at your words, “you're not the victim here, love.”

You scoffed before he continued.

“I may have hurt you physically, but you broke my fucking heart, and that can never be healed. Not until I correct your behavior,” he frowned, pulling into a driveway.

You didn’t bother asking why you were here because you knew this place all too well. It was the same place he’d take you whenever he wanted to “teach you a lesson.”

He called it his classroom.

So here you were, a student smelling of sweet citrus with your aggravated teacher and his hostile cane. You imagined each whack would feel more like a hit to your mind than it’d hurt you physically. Because that was the thing about Jay.

He’d cut you from the surface, but forget that those wounds often travel much deeper.

He held the small of your back as he guided you to the doorstep at the front porch, taking in your nervous frame.

“____,” he began, taking your hands in his but your gaze fell to the ground, fearful tears starting to spill from your eyes. So much for holding it in all this time.

“Save you tears love,” Jay continued, lifting up your face and wiping the moisture from your cheeks, “I’m not gonna hurt you anymore.”

His words delayed your tears mid-stream, staring into his eyes with confusion.

“What are you saying, Jay?” You sniffled.

“I’m saying that I considered your words. 'How can you trust someone who hurts you?' That’s what you said, right?”

You hummed in response, more keen on listening to him than speaking for yourself.

"Well. In that case, I promise that I'll never lift a finger against you in a violent way. From now on, my hands will only be used to love and adore you, my love. Do you understand?"

You felt the tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes again.

This promise of his was almost too good to be true.

"Y-yes, Jay," you hiccuped, face feeling hot from the breath you held, "I understand."

Suddenly, he pulled you close to him, tenderly connecting his lips with yours. You didn’t reject his kiss because for whatever reason, you craved his comforting.

He broke from the embrace, unlocking the door to reveal the oozing black that danced within the structure of the eerily familiar house. He nodded, initiating you to enter without his force. "I'll see you in two hours," he said as you noticed the six pairs of soulless eyes staring back at you. Your legs grew stiff, but Jay pushed you in, locking the door behind you before going about his evening.

You beat on the door like a mad woman, “Fu- ughh! Jay! Please don’t leave me in here with them,” you screamed desperately, shaking at the door knob in terror. You heard footsteps approaching you from behind before Heeseung, the eldest of the bunch, grabbed your shoulder viscously, pinning you against the cold door.

“Nice to see you again, cutie. I’m sure you remember me from our last encounter,” he grinned, leaning in to breathe his hot breath against your neck, “it’s funny how you smiled in my face while I thought about getting you in a position like this,” he bit down on your skin, “vulnerable, and so fucking pretty for me,” he groaned, harshly kissing at your neck.

Sunghoon pushed him out of the way, giving him a fed up expression, "and I’m sure you remember Jay’s rule.”

Heeseung wiped the wetness from his mouth, “yeah? And what rule was that, fun police?”

“That we’re allowed to mess around with her how we please as long as we avoid leaving any obvious bruises,” Jake finished, cringing at the teeth marks Heeseung left on your neck.

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, “I should’ve went for the tits.”

You felt nauseous in the middle of all this, having to listen to the perverted boys debate on they'd abuse you. Niki made his way around the corner, walking in your direction.

He pouted back at you facetiously, punching you in the stomach and snickering as you fell to the ground, “you’re such a fucking crybaby,” he spat, grabbing you by the hair just to let you go harshly.

You looked around the dark room, noticing Sunoo standing in a corner alone, mirroring your anguish. You got up and ran to him, falling in his lap before weeping. “Sun, I know what I said to you, but-" your words were cut off by him pushing you away, the back of your head clashing with the hard floor.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” he bit back, walking over you as if you were a piece of trash, “finish her off, Jungwon. I don’t wanna have to hear her screams once you get started, so I’ll be outside.”

“Me, too,” Jake added, “I don’t have enough energy for the crybaby tonight,” he rolled his eyes, joining Sunoo outside.

“As you wish, hyung,” Jungwon grinned, grabbing you by the hands before dragging you to the center of the room. The four remaining boys huddled around you like kids in a candy store. Jungwon and Niki held your arms and legs down while Sunghoon kept your head in place.

Heeseung walked over with two large buckets of water, placing them down before coming over to straddle your frame. “How about we play a little game. As I'm sure you’ve learned, there's only one right answer,” he slithered, snaking a hand down to pinch the soft skin of your thigh.

"Your body will give me your answer before your mouth does,” he grinned as Sunghoon reached his hand over to cover your mouth. You fought under Niki and Jungwon’s grip, muffled screams rumbling from your throat.

“I’ve heard that most girls scream when they like it,” Sunghoon chuckled. Heeseung removed Sunghoon’s hand before forcing his tongue past your lips, his tongue fighting against yours.

Sunghoon tried holding your head in place, but he lost his grip as you shook away, biting down on Heeseung’s lip, “FUCK,” he grunted, tasting his own blood fill his mouth.

"She's definitely more of a fighter than a lover," Jungwon began amused, "maybe that's why Jay had so much trouble keeping her around."

By now, you had long forgotten about the large buckets of water sitting a few feet away until Heeseung’s weight left your body, grabbing one of the buckets before dumping it over your face in a stream that lasted thirty seconds.

You hiccuped on the water, struggling to fight the agonizingly steady stream.

“Jake, Sunoo!” Heeseung growled, calling the boys back in.

“Yeah, what’s up?” They asked in unison.

“I’m gonna need a lot more water,” Heeseung ordered, watching you pant for breath beneath him. “Any last words before they get back, because I’m afraid from here, you’ll only be able to burp for the next week," he snickered.

You shook your head violently, more so as a cry for help than an answer to his sadistic question. Heeseung grabbed the second bucket of water, cooing at your misery, "I guess you're choosing to end things on a cliff hanger, for now," Niki smirked, swapping places with Sunghoon so he could restrain your head movements.

That's when the second dry-drowning circuit began, Heeseung pouring the chilly water all over your face. This stream lasted longer than the last one, or maybe it just felt that way because you hadn't had the chance to catch your breath.

The devilish boys would continue to do this for another two hours until Jay came back, occasionally playing with your body in between sessions.

You were soaking wet and your skin seemed blue, considering that you actually passed out a few times from the abuse. Goosebumps stained the surface of your skin as if you they were permanent, feeling as though your life had been completely washed out of you.

Jay didn't bother hanging around at the house before guided you to his car, thanking his friends for “handling you" while he was away.

“So,” Jay began, driving you off to God knows where, “how were they?”

You picked at the skin of your nails, failing to get a hold of your nerves. Your dress was still damp from everything that happened, and your hair was a complete mess. You looked a wreck from the outside, but that hardly compared to the agony you were suffering from on the inside.

“Great,” you replied with a pleasant expression and tone, almost sounding genuine.

"You don't have to lie to me, love. You look dreadful," he admitted, resting a hand on the bumpy skin of your thigh.

"To look on the bright side, I'm sure you learned a very valuable lesson. Hmm?"

"Yes, I did," you replied, your eyes fixed on the dark city skyline ahead of you, lost in your pain.

"Lovely. Now let's get you home and cleaned up. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Ｔｏ ｂｅ ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ.

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @yngwife @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @rickysblkgf @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii @valhrts @tinyenha @lisaaannna @valentineluvr @heecries @espyluvsyou @tokusatsutoad @confuse20x @teddursa @riviyw @tamii4 @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 2)

Word Count - 2.5K give or take 

Summary - Doc wakes up as they arrive at a camp where they are stitched up by a fellow medic. When Ghost comes to check in on them a secret is revealed and causes a rift between the two of them. There is also the question of how the enemy forces were able to predict the convoy's route.    

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst

A/N - i think i’m going to try out some König fanfic in the future but i haven’t perfected him just yet... he’s a very dynamic character  

Part 1  

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You could hear them talking above you before you opened your eyes. Although, they sounded distant and muted like you were separated from them by a thick fog. It enveloped you in velvety comfort, so at odds with how you feel before you feel unconscious. You wondered for a second if this was death.     

You forced your eyes open. Your head swirled at the sudden bright light of day. 

You half expected to be faced with smoke and rubble and never-ending gunshot. Only it was blue sky and rolling clouds you were met with as you stared up. You were being driven somewhere. Fast. If the tops of highrise buildings that sped past, their glass mirroring the sky, was any indication. The sounds of a rumbling engine and tires on the pavement cemented your suspicions of being in the bed of a truck.  

There was a breathing mask over your face and someone was manually pumping the airbag every 5 seconds. Helping you breathe and providing you with some sort of pain medication. The slightly metallic taste of the medication and O2 invaded every one of your senses. The reminder that you were still alive was welcomed. 

At your feet knelt Price, with his back turned to you and his gun resting on the tailgate. His shoulders were taught and readied while his head rocked back and forth as he scanned his surroundings. Looking out for possible hostiles. Another threat. 

You lazily blinked back to the gloved hand atop the airbag as it squeezed another breath into your legs. The familiar arcs and lines of Ghost's tattoo peeked out beneath his sleeve and glove. Following the curve of his arm up to his masked face. His hood was pulled low, cascading his few visible features into shadow. The white of his eyes was in contrast to the black paint surrounding them. His thick lashes made you want to reach up and feel them.  He was concentrating on something ahead, his hard eyes darting about. A free hand was resting on the gun at his hip, ready to fire it if at all necessary.  

Another pump of the bag. Another blast of that metallic tang.

Your arms felt like lead as you lifted them, one hand reaching for his wrist and the other pushing the mask from your face. Ghost jerked his head to you, eyes flashing with a mixture of relief and shaken nerves. He removed the mask, laying it beside your head, keeping it close in case you wanted another hit. 

“Soap?” you managed, you remembered that he was with you guys when you lost consciousness but you didn’t see him in the bed of the truck. 

He tilted his head to the front of the truck, “In the cab.” 

Price looked over his shoulder, offering a cordial smile, “Nice of you to join us. Gave us quite the scare back there.” 

“I’ll be sure to take your feelings into consideration next time,” you huffed, attempting to sit up. With a gentle hand, Ghost helped you, bringing you to rest your back on the side of the truck. Your eyes fell to your leg to find a still pristine bandage. 

You gave him a weak thumbs up, “You’d make a good medic.” 

“You’ve been a difficult patient,” Ghost admitted, a lilt to his words. 

You hummed, letting your head lull to the side and focused on the stitching of Ghost's pants, the fabric wearing away and turning grey from use around the corners and folds. 

The words seemed to stick to the roof of your mouth as your mouth dried, “Butters—” 

“I grabbed his tags when I grabbed the kit. That’s all we can do for him right now. We can send a retrieval team for him once we get to a safe location,” he interjected like he already knew you didn’t want to say more than you needed. In the rare case, it wasn’t real. That it was just a hallucination.  

A lump formed in your throat, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, “It’s not fair,” was all you could manage. You wanted to cry for him, for your friend, but you know that if you did you wouldn’t be able to stop. You would have cried for the family made smaller. For the son that would never get to meet his dad. For his wife, who has no idea she just lost her husband, and the father to her children. 

Later. You would think about it later. 

Ghosts eyes revealed nothing. He could do nothing now. He knew that. You knew that. 

You turned your gaze back to the sky. How could it be so perfectly sunny still? After so much blood has been spilled. You felt the urge to curse at the sky. Damn it all to hell. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, still facing on the sky. 

You could feel Price shift to a sitting position opposite you, resting his back on the tailgate, “We’re rerouting to a highway south of the city. There’s another post there. It’s a little farther but it’s the safest bet for now. We don’t know if we ran into the hostile by accident or if they knew that was going to be our route.”  

“Do you think someone tipped them off?” your brows furrowed, you hadn’t considered that. Hadn’t had the time really. 

“It’s a possibility, but nothing we can’t prove or disprove with a little digging” Price's face tightened as he looked at Ghost. That look there made you realize was something else he purposefully omitted, but you figured it was for good reason so chose to change the subject.     

“How long was I out?” this time you turned to Ghost, already knowing he was the most likely to be the one who hauled your dead weight around the entire time. 

“A couple of hours.” 

You blew out a breath, impressed. That was a long time. You knocked Ghost’s knee with yours, “My little guardian angel.” 

Ghost fixed you with a broody look. Later, you would talk to him. Maybe apologize for tearing into him before the mission when he was just trying to protect you from…this. 

Price returned to his previous position as the lookout. Ghost lingered, looking like he wanted to chastise you. You would let him do that later. Right now you were going to lean your head back and rest your eyes until you arrived. 

The post was just outside the city limits, the main building was a warehouse they converted into an HQ. It was surrounded by rows of tents and there was a small makeshift parkade to the back. A regular chain link fence encircled the warehouse but they had modified it to make it more secure, adding barbed wire and sentries and a checkpoint. They waved us through. The rest of the convoy made it here an hour before us. 

The doors to the cab opened and slammed shut. Price hopped over the tailgate before turning around and dropping it open. You took two full and deep breaths, before allowing Ghost to help bring you to the edge where Price and Soap were ready to support you to your feet. Behind you, Gaz and Ghost were already unloading everyone’s gear from the back of the truck. 

Another medic that was in the convoy, Selford, met you guys halfway to the medic tent. He immediately, ducked under one of your arms, replacing Soap. They sat you down on one of the awaiting cots. Selford removed the bandage with great swiftness, and then he went to cut the pant leg you scolded him, “I think not.” 

Even the slash from where the shrapnel had cut through your pants could be sewn and the blood could be washed out. You unzipped my pants, and he helped you pull them down my legs. You were wearing a black pair of shorts underneath so you didn’t feel awkward about undressing. Being in the army left little room for shame anyways. 

He cleaned, assessed, and stitched up your leg within minutes. Selford was damn good at what he did that much was obvious.  

Soap palmed you a flask during the stitching. You took a healthy swig. The liquor burned all the way down, warming you from the inside out. It was enough to take the edge off. The edge that no amount of medication would aid. 

“Just don’t let the Captain see it,” he winked.

“Outta sight, outta mind,” Price groused as he moved to leave the tent, throwing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. 

Selford helped you pull your pants back over the bandage. You would change once you track down your own pack. “Thank you,” You didn’t know how to bring up your next thought, and you were unsure if Selford knew already or not, “Butters is out of commission.”

“I heard,” you shared a mutual gloom with him before clearing his throat and he excused himself. He was close with Butters. Closer to him than you were. They went through basics together, and somehow, someway stuck together the entire time. Selford was also the one who gave Butters his nickname. He was usually all smiles and wit, the perfect contrast to Butters and his dry humour and cool demeanour. Seeing Selford so withdrawn was unsettling. Upsetting.

You were unable to walk on your own but you had Soap bring you to your own tent. He was even so kind as to bring you dinner in bed and cheekily asked if you wanted to be tucked in for bed before he left. Your pack was already on the cot, and you changed into some more comfortable clothes.  

Cool air pushed into the space of your room as the flap was lifted open. The familiar silhouette of Ghost emerges from the dark of night. The singular propane lamp the once source of light cast a warm orange hue over him. He stood by the entrance, and his presence was somehow larger than himself. Needing only one long stride into the room and closing the tent flap behind him. 

“Hello, Riley,” you smiled up at him. It was the first time you saw him since you got here, he was busy with debriefs and briefings and securing the perimeter. As per Soap. He was also the one who brought your bag to your tent. As per Soap. 

“How are ya’ feelin', Doc?” he sat down on the chair across from your bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. His attention was now wholly on you.  

“I’ve been better,” you breathed, scared that if you spoke any louder you’d break the serene ambience he carried in with him. As if the night air had clung to him, and followed him into the tent. The unconvinced gaze he gave you made you yield, “It’s been a long day. I don’t really know where to start.”

“Start with how you’re really feeling,” he suggested with a hint of a tease, his accent coming off thick. That happened every time he got tired. 

“I was talking to him right before he died. He was alive. He was completely fine,” If you hadn’t allowed yourself the time to cry before he came you would have started now, but if you were being honest you were just too exhausted. You continued, “I don't get it. How did he die? And all I get was a scrape?”  

He clasped his hands together, his fingers fiddling with the velcro strap on his glove, “Luck. Nothing more. Nothing less. There’s no bigger meaning behind it.” 

“Is that how you do it?” you ask. It had to be more than just luck for him. 

“Sometimes,” he gives a one-shouldered shrug, “Sometimes it’s because of my brother in arms. Other times is just the training kicking in.”        

“I guess that’s where you and I are different, huh?” even though you two sat maybe five feet apart, you were worlds away from each other. He eyed from beneath his brows, something unsaid glinting behind his eyes. 

“You’ve been biting your tongue,” you tilted to the side to try and get a look at his face, “What is it?” You searched his eyes, looking for an answer to a question you didn’t even to ask. He shifted, loosed a sigh and dropped his head.

“You know,” you sighed meekly. 

“You’d think after all you’ve seen come through your tent you learn to stay away from a warzone,” he chided, “and yet you volunteer.”   

“Who told you?” 

“No one told me,” he hisses, irked at your assumption he needed such help, “I have spent months keeping your name off the roster. So, when your name popped up on my latest assignment you’d understand my surprise.” 

You blinked at him, your mouth forming an “O” shape at his admission, “You what?” 

“I wasn’t going to let you get sent out there.”

“What have you been telling them?” there was no way. There was no way he was the reason they kept pulling your files. Why you never seemed to be climbing the ranks. 

He remained utterly silent and completely still. 

“Speak, Riley,” if you weren’t injured you would have slapped him, “What. Have. You. Been telling them?” 

“That you’re a liability,” he spoke fast, the words falling out of his mouth like marbles. 

You sucked in a breath before an angry sob ripped out of your chest, “You fucking bastard. How dare you.”

“I did it—”

“Oh, fuck off,” you couldn’t even look at him, couldn’t bare sharing the same air as him right now. He had crossed a line and he had no right holding you back the way he did. For months you had watched as other medics were sent off and promoted while you had hit a wall and had no idea why. You wondered why they always seemed to keep a closer eye on you. 

Now you knew. It was because of him. 

Hot angry tears blurred your vision and you shook your head, “I cannot believe you. You ruined my career,” The career you had worked your ass off for. The career you put your literal blood, sweat, and tears into. All it took was a few choice words from him and it all turned to nothing. 

“You would have been killed,” his voice shook as he took a step towards you. Only to freeze when you put up a shaky hand.

“You think I didn’t know what I signed up for when I joined the army?” you ask him incredulously, shifting into a sitting position, your feet dropping to the floor, “I’m not some child that needs looking after!”  

“I know.”

“You obviously don't, Riley,” you gritted your teeth, biting back the yelp of pain as you stood up. He moved to catch you should you fall. You seethed at him, “Because you still did it. Whatever saviour complex you have…I want none of it.” 

There was a long moment of silence. Then he gave a curt nod and stepped back, “Understood.”

“Now leave.” You squeezed your eyes shut and waited.

Leave, before I strangle you. 

Was what you really wanted to say to him. 

If it weren’t for the sound of the tent flap you wouldn’t have heard him leave. Not even his clothes made so much as a whisper as he left. His footfalls are silent as he disappeared back into the night.   

Part 3  

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A/N: let me know if anyone would like to be put on a general writing taglist 

Tag List:  @marytvirgin​ ❤︎ @stickygumchewer​ ❤︎ @lauraliisa​ ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy​ ❤︎ @lululandd​ ​

[omnybus]

The House (2022) Netflix Original Analysis

I watched this anthology months ago, but it hasn't appeared on my dash until now so I figure I'd throw in my two cents about the film and its message. I feel the overall theme in this anthology is about the different ways that materialism ends up hurting people, and leaves them disconnected from the world.

(Spoilers)

In the first short, the parents become so obsessed with the new house and all the stuff it has to offer they not only ignore their daughter's pleas, but also all the red flags popping up around them. Plus the way that the father starts out humble and almost a bit proud of the furniture he's had for generations, soon starts laughing and belitting the sight of his old house being destroyed. Later he's seen happily burning all his old belongings, wasting otherwise perfectly good furniture just because he has new ones. The wife, meanwhile, sews a bunch of curtains to cover the windows, metaphorically blinding them to the outside world with a wall of envious green. She's later shown producing far, far more curtains then she could possibly need, almost smothering herself in them. In the end, they are consumed by their materialism as they are transformed into furniture themselves, their pride, excess, and ignorance of their surroundings, reducing them to mere extentions of the house. It's only when their own daughter's life is in danger that they actually reach out to her, but by then they're too far gone and are consumed by the fire and the house.

In the second short, the Developer is shown to be deep in debt and is trying his best to sell his house to pay it off. The house seems perfectly fine at first, but he insists on dolling it up with exotic and expensive fittings, furniture, and "state-of-the-art" gadgets, trying to make the house more impressive than it actually is while ironically sending him deeper in debt. This theme of trying to put on airs of wealth and sophistication runs through the whole short, especially during the open house scene- he tries to present junk food and energy drinks like champagne and canapes, he dresses up in a nice suit despite spending most of the short in his underpants, and trying and failing to woo the others with his gaudy gizmos like the bluetooth lights and rotisserie oven (which, let's be honest, are neat but wouldn't serve much practical use in daily life; I mean how often would any of us actually cook a rotisserie chicken?). He even sleeps in a cot in the basemenr instead of his own bed upstairs just to keep it looking nice. All the while problems pile up- stuff breaks, messes build up, and of course the fur beetles grow out of control as the Odd Couple continue squatting in his house. During all this slow-boiling chaos, the Developer has no-one to help him; no family, no friends... the only person he feels a connection to is his dentist, who eventually gets fed up with him. In the end, the house is in ruins as the rat-bugs tear up and devour everything, and the Developer, now reduced to a naked, feral creature, learns an ugly truth the hard way: no matter how fancy his house, clothes, or belongings are, he's still a rat deep down, and failing to accept his shortcomings ultimately led to his mental collapse.

In the third short, Rosa's problems are sort of a mix between the previous two: she's obsessed with trying to renovate the house to get more tenants and more money, yet is utterly blind to the world and people around her. The world outside is completely flooded, and everyone has either left or drowned; even if she manages to fix up the place there's nobody left to rent from her, nor anyone to exchange the money with for anything. Instead of acknowledging this, Rosa blames her problems on her tenants for not paying rent. Normally she'd be rightfully upset with being paid with fish and rocks, but what does she honestly expect? Neither of her tenants have any way of making money even if they wanted to. The only reason they seem to stick around is because they truly care about Rosa despite her bitterness, and want her to stop obsessing over this lost cause. Eventually something comes along to shake up the status quo in the form of Cosmos, who at first offers to help Rosa with her project, but instead tears up floorboards, builds a boat for the two tenants, and converts Rosa's house into a makeshift sailboat. But ultimately it is up to Rosa to choose whether to stay here in her ultimately doomed comfort zone or venture forth into the scary but more hopeful unknown. And unlike the other two shorts, Rosa gets the happier ending because while she does start off materialistic, she has something the other victims of the house didn't have: love and support from friends who care about her.

Ultimately, consumerism ends up consuming you back, and can leave you in a state of hollow isolation and dissatisfaction that no amount of expensive toys and trinkets can fulfill. This is the true meaning of "money can't buy happiness"; while nice things are nice and money certainly solves a lot of our problems, past a certain point it just becomes more disposable income. Money can't buy or replace real, meaningful relationships with other people, which we all need to truly be happy.

[rviner]

Name: Fenix 'Fox' Lennox

Age & Birthday: 29 years old, July 20th 1994

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Man / He/Him

Birthplace: New Orleans, Louisiana

Time in Hollow Cove: (Jan 2024)

Species: Werewolf - Visser pack / Vaisman Pack

Role: Supply Depot

Positive personality traits: loving, creative, energetic

Negative personality traits: over-thinking, nervous, self-deprecating

ABOUT

Fenix wasn't born or raised within a pack. Instead, his life began when his mother entrusted her new born baby with an elder wolf that lived in secrecy within the French Quarters of New Orleans. Nana Lu is what Fenix grew to call her, and he was raised only knowing two things about his birth mother. Her name was Penelope-Jane, and she was only eighteen when she gave birth to him. But life was sweet enough with just him and Nana Lu, and Fenix never felt the burning desire to look for his mother. He accepted that she made a choice when he was born, and that he had everything he needed right where he was. Money was tight, but love was in abundance. And Nana Lu's old and traditional values of family and the world around them passed off onto Fenix, making him an older soul in a young body. He eventually considered himself a misfit because of it, never truly finding his place within the world and not just because of his wolf gene.

Music was Fenix's passion and escapism, and it was all around him in New Orleans with the backdrop of Jazz history. He balanced his life as a wolf with his human way of existing, hating that he kept a secret from people that became friends. It was over these years that he earned the affectionate nickname Fox, it sticking so much so that he rarely introduces himself by his real name to this day. A natural separation happened from Fox and Nana Lu during this time as he ventured to learn about himself and was drawn into a non-stop lifestyle of being a musician. It's now something he regrets as in 2015, Nana Lu succumbed to her old age and Fox still wishes he spent more time with her than the unfulfilling and empty void of chasing a dream. He was all alone then, left her apartment in her will but having to truly fend for himself for the first time in his life. Fox lost his way entirely until two years later, in 2017, the arrival of the Vaismans gave him a new lease of life. He joined them, forging close bonds with other members of the pack.

Specifically with Jasmine Madden, a girl so sweet that Fox's heart leapt out of his chest the moment they met. But, friendship was all he could settle for when he watched a slow building relationship blossom between her and Ruben. A wolf so different to her that he could see her bending to try and fit, and it's only seemed to get worse since the war. Ruben, Fox and Jasmine were separated in the chaos of the fires and Fox has no idea how he's survived for this long. His nervous disposition makes him better prey than predator, and he doesn't even have stealth as an advantage considering his clumsiness.

Like many things in Fox's life, a happy accident occurred when the three of them were found by the Vissers. Fox is well aware that he's the last sort of wolf they would want, and he's also well aware that he's in over his head. For some strange reason, his nifty gift of hotwiring his camper van (from being too broke to take it to a shop) has given him an advantage with the wolves. His other strength comes in the form of Jasmine, wanting to remain by her side and show her that she doesn't need to change just because the world has. Even if it means he has to pretend to be fearless, his terrified scream resounding under the fierce Visser shouts.

[trippydooda]

another snippet of the Tangled AU thing, i’ll post a link for its AO3 page soon

Pairing: Kim Seokjin/Jeon Jungkook

Word Count: 2,291

Rating: T

Yoongi’s pub had quickly become a safe haven for the less than endowed in society, and that’s exactly where Jungkook is sitting at present, grinning wildly at a not grinning Yoongi behind the counter.

“One of these days you’ll rot in a cell forever,” Yoongi tells him, entirely fake intent behind the words.

Jungkook smiles against the rim of his mug and drinks down. “Hasn’t happened yet,” he counters.

“I wait with bated breath for when it does,” Yoongi retorts, swiftly turning on his heel.

Swirling around on his stool, Jungkook watches the pub with a strong familiarity and comfort of home. In one corner someone is playing an aggressive game of chess, in another group of people (including Taehyung, of course) are playing a game of poker. Taehyung cheats, everyone knows, but everyone is also too afraid to say anything about lest they invoke the wrath of Jimin, who when Jungkook looks is sprawled across a chair, no doubt trying to sleep. A wasted effort to be sure.

The only two who were missing was Namjoon and Hoseok, who had been out running errands since their faces weren’t as hated as the Terrible Trio. The two of them had made a silent agreement to wear masks whenever they did business with the Trio, and it would have been a good idea all around if it wasn’t already miserably too late for the other three to even try. Besides, Hoseok took more enjoyment enacting acts of violence against the castle guard and having them not have any clue who was doing it.

Jungkook sits back, resting an elbow on the edge of the bar. He’s smiling, Yoongi makes some rude remark about keeping his bar clean thank you, but Jungkook just laughs under his breath.

This was his home.

                                         — — — — — — — 

Kim Seokjin doesn’t know what home means.

He reads books on it every day, the same ones he has read hundreds of times, and can only conclude where he is trapped is the closest thing to “home”. And that was the reality, Seokjin was trapped in this tower and doesn’t even know what it is to feel the grass between his toes. He has no idea what a breath of fresh air is truly like, and can only imagine it through dreams and hopes of one day being free.

His keeper is Yi Jihu, a younger man but still older than him who had found him as an infant, helpless and alone. Jihu is a nice man, Seokjin thinks, but has told him the horrors of the word below and although he doesn’t want to believe them, he has no point of reference to counter otherwise. It was his hair, he’s always told, people want his hair for intentions laced with malice. Seokjin tugs at his golden shoulder length hair, playing with it in between his fingers, and finds he resents it. 

One night he had tried to cut it, but Jihu had found him and ripped the scissors from his hair and bursting into an anger Seokjin had never seen before. His face turned red and the veins in his eyes popped as he shrieked and screamed at Seokjin, saying he would let him starve if he dared to cut his hair. He hasn’t questioned it since, hasn’t even bothered to try, knowing Jihu watches him constantly under the guise of concern, but Seokjin knows there’s something more sinister hidden underneath. 

It’s magic, Jihu had told him the first night he experienced it. Seokjin had been singing mindlessly, letting tunes flow off his tongue and not even knowing the words he sang. It was in the midst of this his brilliant golden hair had started to glow wildly, emitting flecks of what looked like stardust to him in abundance. Jihu had walked in then, holding it in his hands with the look of what Seokjin thought was like how mother looks at her child. He had brushed his cheek against it and sighed deeply, thanking Seokjin for finally giving him what he was hoping for all these years. Seokjin didn’t get it at the time, still doesn’t as much, but it made Jihu happy so it made Seokjin happy.

Seokjin isn’t happy though. At first he was, always happy to be around his books and his small sugar glider (who he named Cane as a pun to himself), and thought he never needed anything else. Anyone else. He had Jihu, he had food and a home, and there was nothing else he was missing. It was only when he first noticed the stars that he had seen the error in his ways. 

Up in the sky where Seokjin can’t reach, where he can’t even begin to understand the complexity of, sat balls of super heated light that looked down on him. He watches them every night until he falls asleep at the window, watches them while he sings tunes to no one, and watches them like they’re his salvation.

Kim Seokjin doesn’t know what home is, but when he looks at the stars he thinks he’s getting somewhat closer.

                                          — — — — — — — 

“This is the most idiotic thing you’ve ever proposed,” Namjoon says, “And that’s including robbing the brothel that was, if I need to remind you, full of palace soldiers.” 

Jungkook shrugs and grins. “It was funny seeing them realise we had the blackmail power to use against them.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung pipes from the chair.

Sighing, Namjoon runs a hand down his face. The pub had recently closed, and it was just the six of them sitting around trying to figure out how to make some quick cash. Boring breaking and entering had lost its luster, and it never made much money. You always had to do multiple robberies, and that made it easier to be caught and it just wasn’t fun anymore. Jungkook liked to raid, and come back with more than a leather cap and a few gold coins. He wanted bigger, badder, and harder to get. 

Enter his master plan to steal the crown that belonged to the “long lost” prince, if you believed the stories.

“We have Hoseok to lead us around and find the best way in,” Jungkook reasons when Namjoon continues to stare at him.

Hoseok squeaks, “That’s not a lot of pressure though.”

Jungkook shrugs again. “I’m just saying, imagine how rich we would be if we had that thing.” He smirks, showing a toothy smile, “We’d have the kingdom wrapped around our fingers.”

“You seem to be forgetting the part where you could get executed,” Namjoon grits out, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not, I swear,” Jungkook pouts, “Besides it wouldn’t even be on you if I died, it would totally be on Taehyung,” he finishes just as Taehying yells an indignant, “Hey!” And Jungkook is being hit in the shoulder by a blunt butter knife. 

The thing was, Jungkook harbours more than a little animosity towards the king and queen. Ever since he could wrap his head around thoughts beyond he was hungry and pillows were comfy, he had seen his fair share of turmoil surrounding the monarchy. It didn’t care about its citizens really, it only cared about the rich ones. They would try to guilt the citizens by saying the king and queen still mourn their lost son, but if Jungkook can get over his dead parents he thinks the goddamn leaders of a nation can get over their son.

It’s because of this that he wants to steal the crown. He wants to covet it and dangle it above the kingdom’s head, taunting and bribing for them to get it back. He wants to see them suffer like the poor and ill, wants them to know what it’s like to not be born into royalty or the aristocracy. Perhaps it’s a bit childish, perhaps he was just being petty, but it doesn’t change how he feels.

It turns out the best way to get into the castle is through the roof. Jungkook doesn’t pretend to understand, just scales the sides of the castle with a foolish grin and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’s always loved climbing, always climbed trees and hills when he was younger, much to his caretaker’s dismay. 

Jungkook reaches the place where they will quite literally drop in before everyone else, because of course he does. He’s bouncing foot to foot, squeezing his hands into fists only to let them go in rapid succession. The whole gang decided to come this time, even Yoongi. He mentioned something about being bored out of his ever loving mind in the pub and was keen to see them all fuck up. It was an empty insult, because everyone knows he came because he was worried about Hoseok getting hurt again. Jungkook wishes they would just fuck already and get rid of the sexual tension he can practically smell every time they’re near each other. It literally makes him nauseated, and even more so when he sees them eye fucking each other. Absolutely ridiculous.

“I don’t like heights,” Taehyung idly comments, staring down into the throne room. It’s where the king and queen keep the crown, moping about it every time they held council. 

“I’ll go in then,” Jungkook says, already reaching for the rope Jimin is holding. 

Jimin keeps it taut against his hip, resisting Jungkook’s grip. “Shouldn’t I be the one to go? I’m the smallest,” he says, gnawing at the bottom of his lip.

The thing is, everyone else is always slightly wary about doing big heists. They’re always quiet as they prepare, quiet as they start, always hesitant. Jungkook, by contrast, welcomes the chaos that no doubt descends upon them. He relishes the fact that he’s in danger, that he could be thrown in prison forever, or even worse he could die. It was exhilarating, knowing he had control over what he could do. And that was the thing, it was all about control. All about the thrill.

So Jungkook forcefully yanks the rope from Jimin saying, “We can’t have anyone be scared or unsure about this, or we’re all fucked.” To that, everyone slowly nods. He’s right, he knows, and he knows everyone else sees it as well. It’s why, despite being the youngest, Jungkook is the leader. 

“Ah, bravery,” Yoongi muses with a chuckle, “A far better term for stupidity, is it not?”

Jungkook shoots him a look, lips thinning. “No one needs your poetry bullshit right now,” he retorts, but there’s no venom in it, not when he grins wildly right after. Yoongi grins right back, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Don’t die,” is what he says next, and it’s the best evidence of concern Jungkook is going to get out of him.

Jungkook is let down slowly, needing both Namjoon and Taehyung to hold him steady. “You’re all muscle what the fuck,” is what Taehyung had muttered as they first dropped him through the glass ceiling. He dangles more or less stably as he’s brought closer to the crown perfectly sitting on a silk pillow, atop a pedestal adorned with so many jewels it makes Jungkook’s mouth water. If he could, he’d rip the damn thing out and keep it for himself it was so pretty. It’d be like a trophy, since he really has no plan on what to actually do with the crown once he gets it. He’ll figure it out.

A sweat has built up on the nape of his neck when he first grabs the rim of the crown in front of him. He holds it close to his chest, looking up at where Jimin is peering down at him and grins. He motions to be let up when one of the guards sneezes, turning his attention back down.

“Hay fever?” He casually asks, and can feel the grip on the rope stiffening. 

“Like a bitch,” the guard says, and Jungkook can tell he’s wiping his nose from where he stares at his back. It takes a moment for the guard to realise where the comment came from, and turns to Jungkook with eyes blown wide. “What the fu—”

“Sorry, got to go,” Jungkook interrupts with the most shit eating grin. He can feel himself be pulled up only slightly, and he’s pretty sure the assholes are considering letting him go altogether. 

As he’s being hoisted up there is nothing short of chaos that erupts. He can’t tell if he’s hearing his friends curse or the plethora of guards below him, but it doesn’t matter when he feels an arrows slice his cheek. Still clutching the crown with one arm, he instinctively jolts a hand to where he’s no doubt bleeding, sending an incredulous glare at the trembling guard who no doubt tried to kill him. So rude.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” is what Jungkook is greeted with when he finally clambers onto the roof. “Can you not be a cocky bastard for one minute of your life?” It’s Yoongi snarling at him, but it’s clear he’s afraid. Poor bugger shouldn’t have come along.

“I have to agree,” Taehyung adds, dropping the rope right as Jungkook stands. He points an accusatory finger at him, “If we all die I am so haunting you in the afterlife.”

Wriggling out of the rope tied around his waist, Jungkook grins. “Fair enough.”

                                               — — — — — — — 

He finishes singing for Jihu as the sun starts to set. 

“Beautiful, as always,” Jihu says to Seokjin, sliding an affectionate thumb across his cheek.

Seokjin smiles, though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Cane wriggles in his lap, and he softly pets his head. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Jihu kisses the top of his head as he stands, brushing off his knees. He had been kneeling in front of Seokjin as he sang atop of a terribly worn down wooden stool. It had been like this ever since Seokjin can remember, singing for Jihu before bed. He’s always thought the dynamic was supposed to be the other way around, but it always made Jihu happy so he never questioned it. It got old after maybe twenty years when Seokjin realised he doesn’t get much in return. Sometimes a nice muffin, but he hardly considers it compensation.

It started to get old when Seokjin’s back hurt from sitting too long, his hair sometimes not wanting to glow how Jihu wanted it to. 

It started to get old when Jihu would strike him for not wanting to do it, and then immediately cradle him and telling him he was sorry.

It started to get old when Seokjin realised he was alone.

He always has Cane, who scurries up his arm to rest in the crook of his neck, but sometimes he wasn’t enough. It wasn’t Cane’s fault of course, and he usually was enough to keep Seokjin sane. But the thing was, Jihu would be gone sometimes for weeks at a time, and instead of welcoming Seokjin into his arms when he returned, he would always drag him to the wooden stool and practically beg Seokjin to sing for him, bags latent and obvious under his eyes.

Seokjin has never denied him in those times either. The pain on Jihu’s face made his heart hurt, and he would stop whatever he was doing to help. Perhaps he was chasing a feeling that maybe Jihu would show him true love, and not just something he has to covet. Seokjin frowns at the familiar sentiment that crawls upon behind him. It’s been getting harder to ignore as of late, and when he tries to be more affectionate with Jihu, he’s pushed away. Seokjin only matters when he sings.

Sometimes he wishes he would fall ill and lose his voice forever. What was the point of being able to sing if he could never share it with the world? He’s always told how cold and unforgiving the outside world is, but when he looks out his window into the endless woods with its singing birds and beautiful elk, he thinks maybe Jihu is wrong. He thinks maybe if he was just given the chance he would be able to think for his own.

He thinks many things, but never voices them.

He belatedly realises Jihu is trying to talk to him when he blinks up to an impatient face. “Sorry?” He asks.

“I said,” Jihu says, “It’s time for you to sleep now. I have to leave early tomorrow and I need to know you’re safe in your bed before I sleep.”

Seokjin rubs his lips together. He has grown accustomed to Jihu treating him like a child despite his age, but there are moments where it infuriates him. Surely they should be equals now. Surely Seokjin isn’t the stumbling infant he once was. In any case, he nods. “Of course,” he replies, standing delicately. 

Jihu watches him, a shadowed figure as Seokjin crawls into bed and holds his blankets close to his face. He hides it enough to know when Jihu leaves, obviously convinced he’s asleep already. The sigh that Jihu always lets out as he leaves has not made Seokjin find comfort since he was a small child, and so when he hears Jihu’s bedroom door close, he promptly sits up. Cane comes over to sit atop his head as he does what he’s done as a ritual for years now. 

He props himself up, crawls into the expansive window sill he has, and stares at the stars. He stares at the stars and definitely doesn’t cry. 

[underqualified-human]

Take a hike, literally

Jade Leech x Reader

Request: Hello! May I please request a one-shot with Jade and his f!s/o going on a hike together. And her introducing him to roasted marshmallows if they happen to camp out.

A/N: I’ve only actually been hiking once and I fell down twice. I’ve also been camping a total of 0.

Word Count: 731

Warnings: brief mention of poison, no beta, 

Fandom: Disney: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Jade Leech/Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

You rushed around your house trying to collect everything you needed.Your boots thumped loudly against the floor as you carried your sleeping bag down the stairs. Luckily Grimm was a very sound sleeper. You quickly stuffed it in the large backpack, you had already packed food and water. 

Now you were in the kitchen, trying to find where you had put your flash lights. Maybe you should wake Grimm up, then again he probably wouldn't know either. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door opening and a voice calling out: “Hello~Darling, are you ready yet?” 

You instantly recognised the voice as belonging to your boyfriend, Jade. Quickly you responded, “J-just a minute!” You sorted through drawers and cupboards but came up empty handed again. He walked into the kitchen and saw you rummaging around in frustration. “Looking for something?” He asked, teasingly. You pulled your head out of the cupboard and glared at him, “I can't find my flashlight and I’ve looked everywhere.” You complained. 

“Is there anything else you need?” He asked. 

“No, just the flashlights.” You said, thinking about where else they could be. “I’ll lend you mine.” He said, a small sympathetic smile on his face. You sighed before accepting the fact that he wouldn't let it go if you refused. You walked into the living room and grabbed your backpack. You waited a few moments for Jade to enter before you both started your trek.

…

While you didn’t work out everyday you thought you would at least be able to survive a simple hike. You were wrong. By the time you two got to the top (or a place with level ground) your lungs were burning on par with your leg muscles. 

Though Jade could easily leave you in the dust, he tried his best to slow down for you. A lot of the time he was still walking a bit in front of you. Damn his long legs. 

You sat down on the ground, trying to catch your breath. Jade was crouching down next to you while rubbing your back. You had made the right call in bringing two water bottles, as both of them were now empty. 

You looked at the horizon, if you both started to walk back now you’d be less than halfway down by the time it was dark. You let out a sigh and got up, walking over to a place where you thought there would be the least amount of stones. You quickly got to work in setting up your campsite with the help of Jade. 

While you were busy making the fire Jade looked over your shoulder in curiosity. “What is that for?” Of course he knew what a fire was, he simply wanted to hear you talk. Who knows maybe they worked differently in your world? “Oh, it’s for cooking-” You said excitedly “- and light and warmth and-” He cut you off with a giggle. “Can we cook some of the mushrooms?” He asked, his pupils were slightly dilated. “Um, I guess.” You were hesitant to eat any plants from the forest but trusted your boyfriend enough to know he wouldn’t poison you. 

Once the fire was lit you rushed to your backpack and took out all the stuff needed for smores. 

You put a marshmallow on a stick as he eyed you curiously. “What are making?” You looked at him and raised your eyebrow, “Do you not know what s’mores are?” You asked, forgetting that there aren't fires underwater. 

“I have eaten one, no.” You honestly felt a bit bad for him. “Well,” you explained, “you roast a marshmallow like so-” you made a point of waving the marshmallow around- “then you put it in between two gram crackers, and you’re done.” You finished your sentence by presenting him with the s’more. Hesitantly he took a bite out of it. His facial expression did not change much but he did say it tasted alright. “Normally you add a piece of chocolate but I didn't have space for it.” You said disappointed as you took a bite of your own s’more. “Hmm. Well try that next time, won’t we?” He asked with a closed eyed smile. “Yeah, next time.” You responded hesitantly. 

He suddenly stood up and clapped his hands together, “I’ll go get the mushrooms now!”

Oh right, the mushrooms.

[blindingdutchy]

No but tom fucking me while he wears a hoodie is something I have spent a LOT of time thinking about

okay okay, i couldn't see this and NOT write something so...

lazy lover | t.holland

{boyfriend!tom x fem!reader}

word count: 2,022

warnings: smut... as expected

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), oral (f receiving)

Moments like these were your absolute favorite. Just you and Tom, cuddled up on the sofa with the soft illumination of the television solely lighting the room. It was storming outside--loud, heavy rumbles of thunder shaking the house slightly, and you could just barely make out the startling flashes of lightning over the tops of the closed drapes.

Perfect weather for snuggles and scary movies, but Tom being the softy he is absolutely refused to watch anything of the sort. So, you'd resigned to watching some romantic comedy for the millionth time. If you were honest, you hadn't watched a single moment of it; instead, you had spent the past hour just closing your eyes in bliss as you carded your fingers through your boyfriend's messy curls and smiled each time he giggled at the screen.

He was your favorite movie, by far. You wished you could see his face, but from this angle you could just barely make out the adorable crinkle of his nose each time he grinned. Tom was sprawled out on top of you, his head nestled over the middle of your chest, and his legs were all tangled up with your own as he laid between them.

It was more than a little stifling in the room as you were caught up in the heat of his body radiating through his lavender hoodie and your own, both of your sweatpants clad lower limbs wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. Somehow, in both of your minds, the storm had translated to meaning cold, when in fact that was far from the case. It was cozy, though, and that made up for the slight dampening on your hairline.

"Princess?"

"Hm?" you hummed, that all too familiar flutter in your heart buzzing out through your body at the sound of Tom's sweet voice.

He nuzzled his face further into your chest, nose buried in the space between your breasts as his hot breathe scorched you through the fabric. "Mmmf yew," he mumbled, and you chuckled at the muffled sound of his words. Picking up his head, your breathe hitched at the darkened hue of his eyes beneath heavy lashes as he repeated, "Miss you."

Cozy turned to hot in an instant. In all the time you'd been dating Tom, you'd come to know one thing--miss you was not something he ever said when you'd been apart for too long. No, miss you was only spoken whenever the two of you had been too close for too long, and he was missing a little something more.

Tom's arms wrapped tighter around your middle, his face burying back into the bunched fabric between your breasts as he lazily pressed opened mouthed kisses through the soft cotton. He left a trail of wet patches in his wake, and your fingers froze in his hair as he found your hardened nipple under your shirt and wrapped his lips around it. "Tom." you gasped.

You tugged at his hair gently, coaxing his face away from your now dampened shirt to look at you. His lips were puffy and reddened from the fabric, a few pressure marks stretching across his right cheek, and he looked so... soft. He looked warm and inviting, like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter evening or a crackling fire during a snow storm.

Not a word had to be said for him to know what you wanted. He scooted up the sofa and further over your body until his center was pressed into yours, his lips coming down onto your own in a lazy, slow kiss. You sighed into him, parting his lips with your own as you abandoned his hair to slip your hands under his sweatshirt and trace your fingers over his bare skin.

It was languid and sleepy, like a fire that had burned itself down to a hot, glowing ember. Tom's arms were planted on either side of your head, caging you in place as he dragged his kiss from your lips and down to your jaw. He nipped at the sensitive skin behind your ear, swiping his tongue over the flesh until you whined and he sucked hard to leave a mark of his own.

"Tom, please," you whimpered, rocking your hips up into him, "I need you."

He grinned into your neck, leaving another mark for good measure before he sat up onto his knees between your legs. There was something so beautiful about him like that; this soft, sweet man bundled up in cozy layers that heavily contrasted the dark, heady burn of his gaze. His fingers tugged at the waistband of your pants, and you lifted your hips to help him drag them from your legs--panties too, leaving you bare aside from the baggy sweatshirt that had ridden up your stomach.

Eyes glued to the warmth between your legs, Tom licked his lips, "Fuck, I've missed you so much."

You bit your lip hard, shivering as his fingers ghosted over the chilled skin of your now bare thigh. Already knowing exactly what he was thinking of, you pleaded, "Please, I just want you--"

"Hush, darling," he simpered, "I want to have a taste."

Tom climbed off of the sofa, dropping to his knees on the floor beside you as he grasped your hips in his hands. Thumbs soothing over the skin, he pulled until your legs were dangling from the edge and your core was inches from his face. His eyes truly sparkled then, glimmering at you lustfully as he smiled to himself.

He didn't waste any time teasing, and your hands fluttered helplessly around you to try and ground yourself when you felt his lips wrap mercilessly around your clit. Diving in head first, literally, Tom gripped your thighs to keep them spread apart as he licked fat stripes through your folds. Sparks shot through your entire body each time he curled his tongue around your bud, swirling and sucking around the nub tirelessly.

It was a little pathetic how easily he pulled you to the edge, your stomach all twisted up in knots as you trembled all over. What else was to be expected though, when the two of you had been together for so long? Tom knew your body like the back of his hand, an expert in all the little things that made you tick--like the way his eyes flickered up to watch you watch him make you feel good.

The sight of his brown eyes watching you like a hunter watching his prey, dark and greedy, got you every time. Squeezing your thigh, Tom teasingly kissed your clit and pulled away with a cheeky wink at your groan of frustration. The tension in the pit of your stomach ebbed away, the quivering of your legs ceasing as he patted your hip and mumbled, "Slide up, princess."

Cooing at the name you loved to hear him speak, you scooted back up the sofa until your head fell onto the armrest once more. He didn't even take his pants off when he climbed back up between your legs, arms caging in your head once more. His lips tasted of you as he kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth as you tugged at his pants eagerly.

"Please, Tommy, I miss you."

Tom's breathe hitched at the sound of you speaking his words, and a little desperately he inched his pants down just enough to free his length from them. You moaned at the sensation of his warm skin falling against your thigh, his tip slipping across the slick mess dripping down your legs. Not wanting to wait for him to make the first move, you reached down to wrap your fingers around him.

He hissed at the contact, hips instinctively rutting into the contact as he groaned, "Fuck, princess--"

The words were lost as you dragged his tip through your folds, teasing your clit for a moment before lining him up. His eyes screwed shut as he sank into you, lips parted in a silent oath, and he crumpled down until his chest was pressed to your own. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you clutched the fabric of his sweatshirt in tight fists as you arched off the couch in pleasure.

Giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch, Tom buried his face into your neck with a muffled moan, "Always feel so perfect, princess. So tight f'me every time."

Tom rocked into you slowly, nudging deeper and making you whimper as you clenched around him. You didn't have to say a word for him to get the message--his hips pulling back before pushing forward again deeply. It felt as if you could feel every last bit of him; every line and ridge of his length dragging along your walls perfectly as you moaned.

You were clawing at his back, fingers slipping over the cotton that was somehow far more slippery than bare skin. If you had thought it was hot in the room before, it was nothing compared to the sweltering temperature between the two of you in that moment. Your hoodie was bunching further under your breasts with each of Tom's thrusts, the fabric of his own scratching at your bare skin from multiple angles.

Sure, you'd had sex with clothes on plenty of times. Rushed and risky encounters in pub bathrooms, your dress bunched up around your hips and his trousers pulled down to his thighs, but this? Tom, suddenly so desperate for you, fully dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants on the sofa? This was new, and it was hot.

The movements were lazy and slow, his lips sleepily suckling at your neck as he panted into your skin and moaned in your ear huskily. You were a withering mess, sweating all over and trying to hold onto him in any way you could to keep from drifting away in bliss. Each sloppy thrust into your heat had you calling his name, begging for that release to finally wash over you.

"Tom, 'm close."

He leaned further onto one arm, lifting the opposite shoulder to slip his hand between the two of you. His hips never faltered as he swiped his fingers through the slick mess between your legs, swirling around your clit smoothly. "Cum for me, princess, wanna feel you." he encouraged, dark eyes blearing down at you hazily.

His cheeks were all red, and his curls were sticking to his forehead with sweat. Lips parting, you panted desperately for air as your stomach began to tighten immeasurably. It was almost too much--the look of him, the feel of his cock languidly finding its home deep within you, over and over. His fingers still rubbing slow, deep circles to your sensitive bundle.

With a sharp inhale, you cried out, "T-Tom!"

The knots in your belly exploded, stars bursting in your eyes as you clenched your entire body around him. Thighs squeezing his waist tightly, fingers clawing so harshly into his sweatshirt you finally found purchase in the skin of his back, and your walls clamped down around his length. "Oh, fuck, princess!" he heaved, eyes screwing shut and nose crinkling as he stuttered in his movements.

Tom's lips parted in a guttural cry before he dropped onto you entirely, arm pinned between you as he continued to ride you through your orgasm with his fingers. He pulsed inside of you, and after a few seconds he gave a loud sigh as a warmth spread through you. Your legs were trembling as you dropped them onto the sofa again, smoothing over the fabric of his hoodie as you finally released your grip.

But, when he moved to pull away, you pulled him back and mumbled sleepily, "Can we just stay like this for a bit?"

Smiling with heavy eyelids, Tom nodded and kissed you softly, easing back down again. You groggily brushed the curls from his forehead and grinned back, humming in appreciation when he rested his head on your shoulder again. His lips ghosted over your neck as he murmured, "I love you, darling. S'much."

"I love you, Tom."

[peakyblindersxx]

May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll

a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)

love, abi xxx

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)

warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft

John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.

“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.

“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.

“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.

***

“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”

“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.

“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.

“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.

“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.

“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.

“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.

“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.

***

Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.

A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.

“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.

“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.

“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.

"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."

His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.

"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.

"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."

"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."

"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"

"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.

His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.

"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.

"It's getting late."

"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.

Ada.

Oh fuck.

Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.

Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.

"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.

You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.

"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."

His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."

"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.

"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"

John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."

"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.

Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.

***

to be continued!

[aussiepoguepunk]

Perfect Storm pt3 (JJ Maybank x reader)

Summary: heartbreak is hurting JJ in more ways than one.

Warning: angst, mention of pain, crying, JJ's lungs, smut,

Part1 part2

_____

Why would you do that?” JJ tried to stop himself, but going on not knowing, it was killing him. In that moment JJ was more vulnerable than he had ever been in front of another living soul. He was anxious and confused, his throat burning as a consequence of the sobs that filled his sleep. Heartbreak and desperation tightening around his lungs, awaking that all too familiar pain in his chest.

 “If you rejected me, fine. If nothing happened an-and we kept-'' JJ paused, his lungs tightening. “-kept on the way we’ve always been, I-I-I wouldn’t be confused,” Tears had begun streaming down JJ’s cheeks and he didn’t care at this point. “but..but why kiss me if you were just gonna ...I-I…” JJ ran both his hands through his hair, only making it messier in doing so. “I don’t understand.” he whispered, letting himself cry again with his head in his hands. The sound of his sadness echoing quietly through the van.

Y/n felt her heart shatter. She’d made a mistake in thinking he didn’t have feelings for her.

JJ’s muscles tensed from the unexpected contact. Y/n having wrapped her arms around the boy, one around his back, the other coming under his chin.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder that shook with each of the boys’ quiet cries. “I was trying to prevent anything from getting too complicated. When you said you had a thing for me I misunderstood and thought it was just in a sexual way.” She hugged him tighter. “I never meant to hurt you.”

JJ tried to stop crying but his lungs felt like they were on fire. In an attempt to cope, even though he knew it would do nothing, he clutched the fabric that covered his chest. A weak cry of pain barely leaving his mouth. 

Y/n removed her arms from around the blonde. “JJ, please stop crying” she brought her hands to his face, getting him to face her. It was then that she saw his red puffy eyes. JJ had always been a master of puppy dog eyes, so to see their beautiful blue colour stained with sadness was unbearable. He still held his chest, strands of his hair sticking out in all directions.

“It...it hurts.” JJ sobbed, beginning to move away. Y/n pulled him back to her.

“I know, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you about it, I was just-”

“N-No my...my lungs” he managed to correct her.

It took Y/n a second to realize what he was talking about, but once she had her only concern was him. Well, more than before. 

“Shit. Okay, do you think you can move to the back of the van? Maybe lay down.” Y/n asked, a new tone of concern and care taking over her voice. JJ only shook his head, breathing becoming more difficult as he continued to cry. 

“What-how do you usually stop the pain?” Y/n tried not to sound alarmed.

“I... c-c-calm.” JJ whimpered.

“Alright just… hey JJ...hey come on” she tried to get him to look at her again but he was beginning to panic.

There were probably a dozen other things y/n could have done but she didn’t have time to think about them all, she just went with her gut. Guiding JJ out from behind the steering wheel, she pushed his shoulders back. Y/n sat herself on one of JJ’s legs and took his face in her hands, kissing him gently. JJ froze, his breath caught in his throat, letting out a long exhale when Y/n pulled away.

“You’re okay J. I got you, alright.” she hummed. JJ looked up at her, his breathing slowly steadying as he tried to speak. “Shhh. Breathing first. Talking later.” Y/n hushed, pushing back stray hairs that had fallen on the boy's forehead.

JJ let himself lean into her touch, the fiery pain in his chest gradually dying. His fingers toyed with the hem of the sweatpants pockets to further calm his nerves and focused on Y/n as she fixed his disheveled hair, listening to her sigh quietly once she brought her attention back to him. JJ closed his eyes at the feeling of gentle hands on the back of his neck, moving his hands up from the pockets of the sweatpants to hold her sides. It was a peaceful moment, the boys breathing stabilizing as a welcoming warmth fluttered in his stomach.

After a small movement on Y/n’s behalf the warmth and anything JJ felt was feeling overshadowed, a grunt being drawn from the surfer. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Y/n panicked, trying to move away when JJ held her sides tighter, releasing whimper that sounded desperate, and more needy.

“nothi- mmh- Nothing’s wrong, just-” He tried to speak but JJ had become painfully aware of the placement of Y/n’s knee and where it kept grazing everytime she moved while she straddled one of his legs.

“Oh, God! P-Please stop moving!” JJ pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut when Y/n’s knee brushed against his groin again.

“Am I hurting you? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be too heavy.” With a small voice she apologised and began to push herself off of him, only to be pulled back.

“No! Fuck. You’re not too heavy, Y/n.” JJ took a quick glance between the two before letting his head fall back on the seat . “Y-Your knee just isn’t in the best place for you to keep moving around like that.” 

Her face glowed red once Y/n noticed what was happening. A tingling sensation beginning between her thighs.

“oh”

“If you could just- mgh- just give me a minute to-mmh” he stopped when she began to litter his jaw with kisses.

“I’m...here...to...help you J” she whispered against his neck.

“Let’s move to the back then” JJ gestured to the vans back seat.

A hoodie and JJ’s boxers were all that kept them apart as he pulled her to sit on his leg again, desperate kisses and needy hands bringing them closer. Gripping her hips firmly, he guided her centre to slowly rock back and forth on his thigh, cherishing the little whines she released at the contact. The pace he kept her at was torture. Fighting against JJ’s stong hold, she did anything she could to go even the slightest bit faster. 

His thigh glistened from her arousal, feeling himself grow harder while the sounds of her wetness moving against him filled his ears.

“p-ple-ease” she breathed, gripping his shoulder tightly, trying to grind down on him more.

“You want more, baby?” he teased, somehow slowing the pace even more. She nodded eagerly, biting her lip to suppress her moans.

“You can have my fingers. Do you want that, angel?” JJ slid his right hand to rest on the inside of Y/n's leg that sat between his.

“Please J” she begged, letting a needy whimper slip past her lips.

“Well since you asked so nicely...” Carefully JJ caressed her inner thigh, making his way upwards, eventually beginning to massage her. He moved his fingers up and down through her folds, spreading them apart to toy with her clit between two fingers. Y/n gasped at touch, tingles of pleasure swirling through her. But just as it had begun, it disappeared, the wonderful feeling vanishing for only a moment as JJ freed her from the hoodie that covered her naked body. He resumed his previous actions, now using his other hand to tenderly caress her breasts. 

“Move your leg over, baby” JJ instructed, removing his hands. 

"but I like it here." Y/n whined, displeased once again with the loss of touch.

JJ pulled her forward kissing her sweetly, leaning next to her ear "So do I, baby. But I'd like you grinding on my dick even more" he whispered, his sentence very near being enough to make the girl cum then and there. 

God how she wanted him, both in the purest and most scandalous way. 

Y/n shifted her body to straddle JJ, resting her hands on his stomach as he laid back against the seat. His many hours of manual labour in different jobs had most certainly played off, leaving him with an abdomen that would put famous sculptures to shame. 

Profanities fell from her mouth, rolling her hips over the surfers tightly clothed hard-on. The girl bit her lip to suppress the uncontrollable expressions of pleasure when JJ's hips bucked upwards from underneath her. 

"This is great and all babe" he panted, slowing down the pace and lifting Y/n's hips so that she would hover barely centimeters off of him. "but if we keep going, I'm gonna cum in my boxer" 

There was a moment of silence, Y/n trying to think of words to say, all sensibility blurred for pleasure. 

JJ rushed to fill the quiet "if you don't wanna go any further, tell me. I won't do anything you don't want to." He explained. 

Y/n was happy that JJ was being a gentleman about things, it was very reassuring, but right now he looked so good layed back on that seat, torso coated from perspiration as his hands gripped her thighs. She'd much prefer to skip the chivalry. 

Anticipation began to shape her thoughts, mind imagining all the ways the two of them could express their affections. She quivered feeling her wetness leek down her inner thigh, a needy whimper leaving her.

"JJ. For my sanity and yours, can we skip over the whole 'taking it slow' thing?" She pleaded, shifting under JJ's hold in desperation of any sort of friction.

Without a word the boy lifted her from his lap. The cool leather of the seat sent goosebumps rippling over her body when it came in contact with her warm skin. 

JJ stood, removing his boxers swiftly. The bulge that previously occupied his underwear had displayed his size well, his erection now free from the constricting fabric. 

The blonde kneeled between Y/n's legs, leaving a trail of kisses upwards until their eyes met once again. 

"There are so many things I wanna do to you right now." JJ sighed, moving his fingers teasing between Y/n's thighs. He was driving her crazy.

"Can you just fuck me." y/n suggested, entirely flustered. 

JJ pretend to think for a moment. "Well I suppose eating you out can wait for another time." 

Before long the van began to rock with every movement, every thrust JJ made. The sound of Y/n panting his name was as sweet as he had dreamed. 

"Sounds so beautiful, baby." He'd whisper in her ear, kissing along her jaw, every now and then groaning when her fingernails would dig into his back. All of it building, every moan and kiss leading up to their peak. 

The climax was blissful, pure serenity away from the lighting of the storm. 

JJ rested his forehead on hers, Y/n's chest heaving up and down quickly. 

"I'm really glad we could work out our differences." JJ laughed lazily. 

"oh yeah, I really think it strengthened our relationship." y/n smiled moving wet hair away from JJ's face. 

He pulled her in to rest her head on his chest. They laid there staring at the roof peaceful and content, but something seemed off with JJ. A look of concentration painted across his face, staring at the roof as thought it was presenting him with a math problem.

"You okay, J?" Y/n ask lifting her head from his chest. JJ contemplated his answer, nervous that he might mess up the moment.

"Are we- um... you and I…" he was cut off with a soft and loving kiss.

"Yeah. We are." Y/n nodded, bitting her lip.

The blanket now comfortably draped over both of them, they held each other close for the rest of the night.

_____

I feel like the ending could have been better. :/ but I still like it.

Taglist: @taylathornton @skyfallgazingstar @poguesarah @mysticalhearteagle-trin @wannabejjmaybankswhore @gia-maybank

[crimsonheart01]

The Right Connection [Chapter 2] (Dieter Bravo x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Chapter 2 let’s gooooooo! This was a lot of fun to write. I’m really enjoying this so I hope that you also enjoy it! I also made a banner for this story. I’m still working on a playlist but will have that ready for next update. Thank you for reading, bisous! 

+ Story Masterlist +

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Summary: Dieter Bravo is the celebrity host on a new dating reality TV show and she was signed up by her friends as a joke. She decides to try and stick it out for the prize money and keep everyone else away from her. Word Count: 4.7k Playlist: Let’s Go to Hell - Tai Verdes Warnings: Recreational drug use, alcohol, horny, shallow people, swearing, innuendo, contempt, annoyance, slow burn. Disclaimer: ✨ If you are under 21, please do not interact.✨

“Let's go to hell together We can go whenever Hold me down cause we're going fast I'll be your one ride or die-r Through the smoke and fire Love the good times, they never last” Let’s Go to Hell – Tai Verdes

Two weeks had flown by, and she was finally settling into something of a routine. She was coexisting with the rest of the contestants well enough. Jasmine was one of the only people she had any sort of relationship with and that was ok with her. Tensions were a little on edge the first week, with everyone declaring their claims and shooting their shots, but she made sure that she was clear in her intentions. She wasn’t interested in getting caught up in that spectacle. The rest of them were fine to leave her alone, surprisingly respecting the fact that she wasn’t concerned about any kind of romance, or veiled lust with the rest of them.

She wasn’t sure how long the showrunners would keep her around, but at least she didn’t have to worry about faking her way through making a connection with anyone. She found it amusing to watch the way the rest of them found their footing with one another and adjusting to the constant filming. Not that she wasn’t included in that because she could see the crew filming her interactions as equally invested in her as the others.

She didn’t like it, but she did sign up for this. She agreed to be here, regardless of whatever conditions she’d convinced herself existed. She was always going to be on camera, and it was going to take her some time to become comfortable with that. However, as the days went on, she found it became more at ease with the cameras always rolling. They all fell into step with one another, adapting to their constant presence.  

There was only one person who seemed indifferent to the cameras and crew from the beginning and that was, of course, Dieter. It was to be expected though. He was a movie star; he was used to having this kind of attention on him all the time. She found herself interested in watching him the most. There wasn’t a time when any of them saw him as anything other than the actor. She was sure it was all a front, if the small hint she’d caught on their first day was any indication. She wondered if and how long it would take him to break. However, he never played anything other than the international playboy, Dieter Bravo, and he played it spectacularly.

He walked around the retreat as if he didn’t even notice the equipment laying around, or as if he wasn’t always attached to a mic pack. She could admit to herself she was impressed. His skill by being unaffected was clearly something he’d developed in all his years in the business, but it was kind of amazing to see him in action. He was always on, performing as the version of himself that he created for this show. She could give him his props for that.

Overall, she was finding that the whole experience wasn’t as bad as she had been expecting it would be. Seriously, aside from having a camera in her face all day long, it was a pretty nice set up. They were on a private estate on the island, with access to the freshest food and fruit available and not to mention the drop-dead gorgeous views. It also helped that while she was able to maintain a safe distance between her and the other contestants.

While everyone here was wonderfully good looking, she prided herself on the fact that she wasn’t falling into the temptation traps. She wasn’t ashamed of the fact that a few of them had caught her eye. She was happy to have the eye candy available to her, free of charge. It was entirely possible that in another lifetime, she’d have tried shooting her shot but here, she only had one goal in mind, and she wasn’t going to lose sight of that. Winning that cash prize was what fuelled her, and she needed to keep that motivation front and centre.

The sleeping arrangements hadn’t switched up much from the first night. Her and Jasmine were still ‘sharing’ a bed. However, everyone was now in the know that she didn’t actually sleep in the room with the rest of the group. She tried valiantly their second night to stay put in her the room with them, but that only led her to getting a grand total of an hour of rest. She hated the fact that she couldn’t find it in herself to settle, and she was sure that she tossed and turned enough to disturb Jasmine’s sleep.

She’d been so miserable the third day of the retreat that Jasmine eventually pulled her aside and told her to screw the sleeping arrangements. None of the group cared where she slept as long as they didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of a poor night’s sleep. She was snappish and argumentative all day long that everyone had come to the agreement that she was good to sleep wherever she was the most comfortable. If that meant setting up shop in the cabana, then so be it. It wasn’t like the crew were forcing them to sleep in the beds. They really didn’t force anything on them, except the stupid rules.

And those rules were proving extremely difficult for the rest of her housemates to adhere too. She was still annoyed about the wake up call on the fourth day with both Betty and Dieter informing them there’d been a violation. Yeah, ok, the whole premise was to be enticing and difficult, but there was $250,000 on the line. For all of them. Dieter announcing that the breach of the rules – a stupid make out session – cost the whole group $2,500 in cash taken from their prize money.

They were warned of repercussions, but no one was expecting it to be money taken away from them. The tensions soared high that day and well into the following days. It had gotten the point that everyone was keeping an eye on everyone else. There were side conversations happening between couples and the temptation was rising the longer they were holed up together. She tried her best not to get involved but some how, with her choosing to distance herself from the drama, she ended up knowing more about everyone’s business than intended. She only wanted to mind her business and keep her eyes on the prize.

Xander had cornered her one afternoon while she was relaxing in the hammock to ask for her advice. She was shocked when he approached her, assuming he was coming with another tired pick up line, but he’d been genuine in asking about Shereen and if she was seriously entertaining Jarrod or not. He wanted to get to know her better but was worried about getting played. She was confused, unsure why he’d come to her, but he pointed out that she saw everything, whether she meant too or not. Since she wasn’t distracted with one person and their perceived affections, she was more in tune to the full goings on around her. She was dumbfounded when she thought back to how much she’d seen and heard without realizing.

Then a few days after that, Christina had pulled her aside at breakfast and murmur a question about Kevin. They were all obsessed with what the other was doing, and trying to see who they could pair up with regardless if there was real chemistry between them. She wondered how long it would take for them to see past the superficial and for them to develop something real. That was the point of the show, right?

Jasmine and Drew were the only two who hadn’t been actively cornering her for the business on the rest of their housemates, but she’d obviously noted that they were also quiet about their slowly developing kinship. She decided to keep that to herself, happy for them and letting them figure out whatever it was they were doing. If there was a real connection being made, she could at least let it happen without any interference.

Her plan to stay relatively lowkey had been tipped over but at least she wasn’t risking any prize money. This wasn’t her original plan, but it had its merits. She was able to keep an eye on the housemates and if need be, she knew who was the closest to violating another rule. She wasn’t sure how she was going to handle that kind of situation, but at least for the moment she could take in all the information available. She could work with this kind of advantage.

~(TRC)~

By the third week on the retreat, she was going stir crazy. She was bored.  Sure, they had little excursions to public beaches and hikes, but it didn’t keep her occupied enough. There was only so much tanning and napping on the beach she could do. She didn’t want to complain because these were good problems to have, but at the same time she wanted something that was going to keep her busy. She was itching for more. Nothing specific, just more. She wondered if there were any bars nearby that she could make a trip out too. Would the crew let her wander? Probably not.

Around her, the rest of her housemates are clearly enjoying themselves. Worrying constantly about all the ‘temptation’ and trying their best not to break the rules now that they knew it cost them money. They were dancing around each other. Scheming and seeing how far they could go without Betty or Dieter to call them out and cost the whole group more cash.

It was that very evening she watched Jarrod and Shereen nuzzle each other while in the pool. She was sure they hadn’t known she was already settled in her makeshift bed in the cabana, so she ducked down and ignored the conversation they were having. When she heard the splash of water as they exited the pool, she let out a content sigh, hoping that Betty wouldn’t alert them of a violation in the morning. She was also quite thrilled she hadn’t had to hear or witness anything between her housemates. There was only so much she was willing to take and hearing someone in the throes of desire wasn’t one of them. However vanilla it may have been in.

She stared up through the slats of the wood above her and admired the night sky. The lights around the estate were still too bright to see most of the stars, but once the crew and her housemates were asleep, she would be able to admire the naked night sky in it’s whole beauty. She curled up into her blanket, turning onto her side and peering through the brush down to the ocean. She couldn’t see it but hearing the roving waves had her feeling at peace. She could get used to falling asleep oceanside, she really could.

The lights around her started to shut off, indicating to her that the crew were now calling it a night and the night cameras taking over the footage captures. There weren’t security cameras everywhere, but they were strategically positioned in all the public spaces, in the main shared bathroom and in the bedroom. She was also sure they’d set one up in the cabana to keep an eye on her during the nights as well. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t about to get any juicy footage from her sleeping the nights away. This happened to be her favourite time of day. The one time where she could really turn off and relax, knowing that she wasn’t actively being watched. Or well, at least it wasn’t the obnoxious camera crew in her face. She could comfortably ignore the security cameras.

She stretched out along the bench, tucking one hand behind her head, and staring off into space. Three weeks down and only about thirteen left to go. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping count. It made the retreat feel that much more stifling and prolonged, but she couldn’t help it. She chalked it up to her boredom. She let out a yawn, squeezing her eyes shut but not actually feeling any of the tiredness.

She let her eyes drift closed, not from being tired but from feeling content. She may be bored but the fresh salt air and the sounds of nature soothing her soul. She inhaled deeply, expecting to enjoy a nice refreshing breath but found her eyes snapping open instead. She sat up abruptly, the unmistakable scent carrying in the air around her. She peered over the cushioned chaise lounger, searching for the source.

A crease in her brows developed and she continued to scan the compound. There wasn’t anyone out there. Not that she could see. She eyed the bedroom door and found it closed shut and she highly doubted any of them were the ones indulging. At least, it didn’t seem like any of them had been hiding anything for this long from the bunch. It would have been impossible. Everything was shared, even their closets.

Her heart drummed in excitement. There was a possibility of getting a different kind of reprieve from the same old routine. She just needed to find the source. There was no mistaking that smell. She gripped her blanket, flipping it off of her legs and climbed off the seat. As she stood, she closed her eyes and inhaled again, this time concentrating on the environment around her. She listened for any deviance from the typical nighttime sounds but came up short.

Shrugging to herself, she padded her around the long bench in the cabana and headed in the opposite direction of the contestant’s side of the house. She crossed the small bridge over the pool that connected the main area with the two sides of the estate. She made sure to keep quiet, hoping not to disturb any of the crew while they were winding down.

She scanned the area hoping to spot the culprit, or at least see the cloud of smoke to give her an idea of where she should be looking. She hadn’t really been on this side of the estate. It wasn’t off limits per se, but there wasn’t anything over here for the contestants. The other side of the house was set up specifically for them and this side was for everyone else. It was a lot more private than her side, and she felt a small lick of jealousy at that.

She walked down a corridor where there were several closed doors and bay windows covered with blinds and curtains. She caught her reflection in the glass and chuckled to herself. The dim lighting and sunshine had done wonders for her complexion, and she grinned. There was a lot that she could complain about, but as the days ticked by, she was finding herself more and more grateful for agreeing to this. It was almost like a forced vacation, one that she would have never gone on by herself, but now that she was here, she didn’t want to say goodbye too quickly.

She rounded the corner, finding herself the front of the estate and the light from the corridor illuminated the dark walkway in front of her. She stared out into the dark in front of her and sighed. No luck out here. She planted her hands on her hips and spun to turn back when she heard a choked cough coming from her left. She whipped her head in the direction and found Dieter leaning against the wall, hidden in the shadows. There was a tall tropical plant in a planter next to him, and if she hadn’t heard him cough, she wouldn’t have ever noticed him standing for the leaves were almost covering him completely.

His fist was held up to his mouth, where it looked as if he’d been trying to hide the smoke he inhaled. His shoulders shook, stifling another cough and she grinned over at him. She’d surprised him and he had tried to keep quiet hoping she wouldn’t catch him, but his original cough gave him away.

Her eyes spotted the red point of the joint, burning away in his other hand and she cocked her head to the side. He rolled his eyes and exhaled, letting his coughing fit take over. She stepped away from the walkway, into the sandy earth and towards Dieter. She snaked her hand forward, taking advantage of his distracted state and plucked the joint from his fingers.

“Hey!” He protested but was deterred by another round of coughing.

She gave him a playful pout and laughed at his predicament before bringing the joint to her mouth. She inhaled and closed her eyes as the smoke filled her lungs. Indulging herself in drugs had been the furthest thing from her mind when she boarded her flight to come out here. She wouldn’t be back home with her own stash for months so if this was all she was going to be afforded then she’d savour it for everything that she could.

She tipped her head back, exhaling a long line of smoke into the air above her. She stared up at the dark sky, smiling into the night as she took another deep pull of the smoke. Her shoulders immediately relaxed, not feeling anything yet, but knowing that it was only a matter of time before the familiar fog took over and let her loosen up entirely. She was on her third puff when a hand wrapped around her arm.

“Excuse me,” He said, “But, this is mine.”

She leveled her gaze to find that Dieter had stepped forward. His fingers curled tight around her wrist and with his other hand he was stole the joint back from her. She giggled and threw her hand up to cover her mouth, now feeling the beginnings of her high settling over her.

“Sharing is caring, Mr. Bravo.” She couldn’t hide the smile plastered across her mouth.

She booked the way he stared before falling into the throes of his own high and matching her smile. She took a few steps towards him, falling against the wall next him and felt as her eyes drooped lower. She crossed her arms, smoothing her hands up along her skin and sighed at the sensation. She hugged herself, her whole body feeling fluid and aloof. Dieter’s hand hovered in her line of vision a moment later, offering her another toke but she shook her head.

“I’m good for now, thanks.” She declined and she felt as he nodded next to her.

His hand disappeared and she heard the scrape of him putting the joint out on the wall between them. They stood there in companiable silence for a few long moments, lost in their own thoughts, barely aware of each other until Dieter shifted and leaned his shoulder against the wall, turning to face her.

She tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek on her shoulder and looking up at him. It was clear he wanted to say something to her. He had a calculated expression on his face, so she waited. She blinked slowly, suddenly aware of how close they were leaning together. She stared at his face, noting the small linear scar on the bridge of his nose. She pulled back slightly, catching his eyes as she did.

“Why are you here?” He finally asked.

She furrowed her brow, confused by the question, “Do you mean here?” she pointed down at their feet, asking about the two of them, “or here?” she lifted her hand and waved it in a circle, indicating to the whole compound.

He cracked a smile at that, “Here,” and his hand waved in a circle, following along with her signage.

He crossed his arms and held a self-satisfied smile while he waited for her answer. The typical response pulled to her mind, but she had to pause for a moment and really think about it. Her friends were the one to sign her up for the show quoting that she could use a little fun. She was exasperated when she asked to audition but was encouraged by her friends to live a little. Then she was astonished when she was ultimately chosen, her friends much more enthusiastic about her situation than her. She was ready to quit on the spot, but they mentioned the prize money and it made her rethink her aversion.

She pouted in thought as he answered and eventually shrugged, “Money and a free trip.”

Dieter arched an eyebrow at her answer, disbelieving. She raised her eyebrows up at him and she inclined her head, using her expression to ask him the same question. He nodded, understanding and turned to press his back against the wall. He felt as she followed his lead, leaving the two of them a shoulder length apart and both staring up at the sky.

“Money and a free trip.” He mimicked her answer, and she let out a brief laugh, turning her head to face his and then mirrored his expression of disbelief.

He laughed, leaning his head back and closed his eyes. She waited to see if he’d continue with his line of questioning, but he remained quiet. She settled back against the wall, resting her head, and staring up at the night sky. The stars were brighter out in this corner than they had been in the cabana.

“Why are you hiding in the bush?” She asked, her gaze moving around their surroundings.

He pointed back towards the walkway and nodded, “Camera’s blind spot.”

She followed his hand and found the blinking red light of the camera sitting above them. They were standing directly in the zone where it couldn’t reach because of the angle. She grinned, planning to keep this spot in mind for future reference. It would be nice to have some place to relax fully, knowing that it really was offline.

“Nice find,” she commented, and he shrugged in acknowledgement.

They stood there for another few moments, enjoying the quiet between them. She hadn’t been sure what to expect when she first discovered him there but she was happy to know, that when they weren’t ‘on’ in front of the cameras, he was easy to be around. Eventually, the day caught up with her, causing her to yawn. She heard his gruff laughter at her and she chuckled along with him.

“Guess it’s time to head back,” She pushed off the wall, “Thanks for the smoke.”

He moved forward, intrigue glinting in his eyes. He lifted his chin, the question of discretion reflecting in his expression, and she did something she never expected herself to do in that second. She winked at him and stepped up onto the walkway.

“Secret’s safe with me, Mr. Bravo.” She beamed over at him, the amusement radiating off her.

He kept himself in place but met her smile, “Dieter, please.”

She let out a warm laugh at his request, endeared by the distinction he was asking for. She bobbed her head to the side, acknowledging his request and then spun on her heel, making her way back in the direction of cabana. He’d shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting, giving her a wide berth before stepping out from the shadows and strolling down the corridor to his room.

She knew that as soon as the crew caught this on the security tapes, the two of them would be questioned at length. She wondered if they’d believe that this happened by chance? She knew the second he pointed out the camera what this would look like. She knew that the crew was going to give them a hard time over this. She hoped it took them months too long to find this in their footage. She didn’t need the complication while trying to keep to her goals.

As she reached the corner, leading her back in the direction of her side of the house, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. She found that he’d paused in front of a door, watching her walk away. Her eyes met his for a split second and she nodded in a goodnight. She saw his head jerk back as she disappeared around the corner.

She smiled to herself as she reached the cabana and reclined back into her makeshift bed. Previous nights could have ended much worse than how this one went. She couldn’t put a finger on what emotion she was feeling right now, but she was sure she could blame the weed for whatever she was feeling right now. She wasn’t mad though. It was a good feeling. Her eyes drooped as she snuggled into her blanket and let out a content sigh.

~(TRC)~

It had been a few days since her and Dieter had their random rendezvous. She woke the next morning significantly rested and the press of his smile etched into her mind. It didn’t make sense why suddenly it was permanently plastered to her mind’s eye. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t smiled a thousand times before. In the end, she figured out that she wasn’t the only one with the problem because when they finally crossed paths, that next day, Dieter’s gaze seemed to linger a little longer on her than it had before.

She was laid out on one of the pool chairs, a fresh coat of sunscreen slathered over her back, enjoying the bright sunshine. She had her arms folded under her chin, while she rested her head there and gazed across the expanse of the deck to where the guys were all milling around. She readjusted her head, laying her cheek on her arms and kept her eyes on Dieter.

In one of his rare moments, he was mingling with the other contestants. It wasn’t something he generally did. He would come out, do his part for the cameras, and then be off on his own, away from the rest of them. However, today, he came out and wandered around their side of the house, and chose to recline in one of their loungers, reading a book. After a while, the boys noticed he was about and managed to sweep him up in whatever conversations they had going.

Standing with the group it was noticeable that Dieter was the only one semi-dressed. The rest were all bare chested and swim shorts only. Dieter had a white linen shirt on, completely unbuttoned. The sides of his shirt stirring in the light breeze of the afternoon. His shorts were a bit longer than the rest and were a vibrant red.  Paired with the smirk and sunglasses, he was the picture of a god.

Her musings were interrupted when she felt a light smack to one of her thighs and then a warm body pressing against her legs to sit on the edge of her chair. She pushed up on one arm and glanced over her shoulder to find Jasmine leaning back, across her legs and giving her a sly smile.

“Enjoying the view?” She asked, making a point to let her eyes linger at the group across form them.

She chuckled back, “Of course I am. I can appreciate the good-looking as much as the next person.”

“For someone so against getting to know the rest of us, you sure do spend a lot of time looking.” Jasmine giggled, leaning further back and resting more comfortably against her legs.

She shrugged. Jasmine wasn’t wrong. There was a lot to look at here. Everyone here was gorgeous and always looked their best. She dropped back down, folding her arms again before laying her cheek across them again.

“There’s nothing wrong with looking, Jas,” Her gaze moved along each of the guys standing on the other side. There really was a lot out there for them to admire.

Jasmine sighed and laid out against her back, resting her chin on her shoulder, “Would you be ok with Drew taking your place in the bed?”

“What?” The question taking her off guard. She turned her nose inches away from Jasmine’s.

Jasmine grinned, a flirty air surrounding her. She knew that Jasmine and Drew had been getting to know each other, all without any breach in the rules but she was surprised to know that it was moving a lot faster than she had assumed. She found herself genuinely happy for her.

She smiled over at the other woman and nodded, “Of course.”

[earth-ambassador-jim]

More troll adopting humans and Vice versa

A Helping Hand

AO3 - Fanfiction

How about a wizard adopting a changeling?

~~~~

~~~~

What had been shaping up to be a rather boring day at the market takes a turn when a young boy darts behind Douxie’s herb cart. Douxie, who had almost been asleep, blinks uncomprehendingly as the boy stares up at him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t tell them I’m here,” He whispers.

The young wizard doesn’t get a chance to say anything because at that exact moment a group of city guards rounds the corner. They are brandishing spears and breathing hard as if they’d been running for a while.

“You there!” One of them barks at Douxie. “Have you seen a boy run by? Brown hair, green tunic?”

At his feet the boy presses up against the cart. He’s shaking now. Douxie makes a snap decision. He doesn’t know what the boy has or hasn’t done but he’s not about to hand a child over to a group of armed men without knowing why.

“I haven’t,” Douxie says leaning casually against his cart.

The man lets out a disappointed huff and then turns to his men.

“Split up. We can’t let him get away.”

He turns back to Douxie.

“If you see him, tell us. He’ll be sporting a burn mark on his cheek. You can try to catch him yourself if your feel up to it -there’s a reward- but be careful because he’s very dangerous.”

Douxie resists the urge to look down to see if his stow-away has a burn.

“Sure,” He says. “But what’s a kid done to warrant that if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He’s a changeling,” The guard growls. “No one suspected him until he got kicked by a horse this morning. The iron shoe revealed him for the demon he really is. The guard who was close by tried to grab him, but the little monster bit him. We’ve been chasing him all morning.”

“A changeling here huh?” Douxie says. “Crazy.”

The guard grunts in agreement and then heads off down the road, leaving Douxie to ponder his best course of action. He glances down at the boy. Sure enough, there’s a burn mark on his cheek. He looks to be about five or six.

Douxie comes to a decision.

“I was just fixing to head out for the day,” He tells the boy. “Why don’t you hide in my cart and I’ll get you out of this place?”

The boy stills.

“You… you’re helping me?” Then his eyes narrow. “No. You’re going to hand me over aren’t you? You want the reward.”

Douxie huffed.

“Kid. If I was going to hand you over, I would have already done so. You can take my offer or leave it but do you really want to run around out in the open?”

The boy hesitates, watching him warily for a moment. There’s a shout in the distance and he flinches. He climbs quickly into the cart and covers himself up with the canvas.

Douxie packs up his herbs and then they’re on their way. He takes the south gate out of town because the guard there is always lazy and doesn’t check carts very thoroughly. He makes it through with no hassle.

Once he’s about a mile away from the forest he turns off the main road into the forest. His passenger notices the change in terrane and his head pokes out.

“Where are we going?” He demands, trying to quickly get out of the canvas but getting tangled up in his haste.

“To my camp,” Douxie says.

He slows down and then stops as the boy keeps struggling.

“Need a hand?”

The boy flinches when Douxie reaches out to him, so he withdraws.

“I just want to help you,” He tells him. “You don’t have a place to go, right?”

“No,” He admits. “But what’s in it for you?”

“Nothing really,” Douxie says with a shrug. “But…”

He hesitates. His own secret is almost as dangerous as the boy’s.

He looks into the fearful green eyes and then thinks: What the heck?

He holds out his hand and lets some of his magic gather around it. The changeling’s eyes widen as they follow the wisps of blue light.

“I’m a wizard,” He says. “Let’s just say I know a thing or two about getting chased out of towns by an angry mob.”

The changeling doesn’t quite loose his wariness.

“Do you need something from a changeling to make a potion?” He asks, finally getting himself untangled. “I heard that wizards sometimes use changeling bones for stuff.”

Douxie groans and drags his hand down his face.

“For the last time, I just want to help you out,” He says with a sigh. “Look if you find out I’m lying feel free to steal all my gold or whatever and run off into the forest.”

The changeling considers that and then settles back down in the cart.

In about ten minutes they reach the cave where Douxie has been staying. Once he’s out of the sun, the changeling side-eyes Douxie and then transforms into his troll form in a flash. He’s a little green thing, with big brown wings that look much too large for him.

“A changeling,” A voice says from the back of the cave. The kid’s wings flare out in alarm. “Really Douxie?”

Archie, in dragon form, emerges from the shadows.

“The town guard was chasing him around in a mob, okay. If they’d caught him they’d try to torture the location of his familiar out of him and you know as well as I do just how pointless that is.”

“Perhaps,” Archie says. He looks like he’s going to say more but Douxie shoots him a pointed look.

“Fine,” The familiar huffs. “I’ve caught dinner. I imagine you’ll want to cook it.”

“Definitely,” Douxie says going to a corner of the cave to get the wood.

~~~~

“So what’s your name?” Douxie asks his guest over dinner.

The changeling stiffens at being addressed.

“Waltolomew Stricklander,” He says.

Douxie blinks.

“And I thought my name was a mouthful,” He says. “Mind if I call you ‘Walt’?”

The changeling slowly nods.

“Excellent. I am Hisirdoux Casperan, but you may call me Douxie and this is my familiar Archie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Walt says in an automatic sort of way.

“Likewise.”

Looking at his clothes, Douxie figures that he probably belonged to a good house before he got outed as a changeling.

“So Walt,” Douxie says, figuring he ought to try to get to know the kid a little better. “What do you like to do?”

Walt slowly finishes chewing the bite he’d taken out of the rabbit leg.

“I like reading,” He says slowly. “My… familiar’s father was teaching me how to play chess.”

That confirms Douxie’s theory that he had been planted in a well to do house. It’s definitely best for the kid if he gets far away from here. More money generally means more people will be hunting for the runaway.

“Nice,” Douxie says. “I’ll have to see if I can make us some chess pieces then.”

Walt blinks at that.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Douxie asks, absently stroking Archie who has settled across his lap.

“Why would you make chess pieces? I’m not going to be around that long.”

Ah… That’s what this is about.

“Are you leaving?” He asks.

The changeling shrugs.

“Well, if you decide you want to have some company for a while. You’re welcome to stick around,” Douxie says. “It’s always just me and Archie.”

Archie gives him a look which he chooses to ignore.

Walter’s wings are just slightly wrapped around him. He’s still keeping the fire between them.

“Think about it and let me know in the morning,” Douxie says with a shrug. “I’m going to be moving on tomorrow.”

Walter nods.

~~~~

Douxie wakes up at some point during the night to Archie poking at him. He shoots a blank glare into the dark but gets up anyway. The fires still glowing so Douxie heads over to it, dragging his cloak with him.

He pauses when he spots a small form curled up in the corner. It looks like Walt is finally asleep. Douxie hesitates a moment and then walks over to him. The changeling looks so small curled into a ball with his wings wrapped around him. Douxie wonders how old he actually is. Changelings are always older than they look, in part simply because of the rate trolls age at, but this one seems young. He could just be a good actor of course.

Douxie wraps his cloak around the small figure and returns to where Archie is waiting by the fire.

“So why are you trying to convince a changeling to travel with us?” The dragon-cat asks irritably. ‘Do you want us to get sold out to his comrades at the next town we get to?”

Douxie huffs.

“Look Arch,” He says. “I couldn’t just leave him there. They were going to kill him!”

“Rescuing is one thing, but you didn’t need to bring him here, let alone ask him to start traveling with us. What are you thinking?”

Douxie sighs and stares into the fire.

“He reminds me of myself. Okay?”

Archie blinks and then cocks his head.

“I…” Douxie starts awkwardly. “Back when my magic first manifested my town… my family… they didn’t take it well. I told you about that.”

Archie nods but doesn’t say anything waiting for him to continue.

“Seeing Walt today, on the run for something he ultimately didn’t get a choice in reminded me of that.”

Douxie shivers. He remembers the cries of “witch!” The fear in the eyes of the people he’d grown up with. The hatred.

He doesn’t realize he’s scratching at his scars until Archie buts his head against his hand. He gives his familiar a grateful smile and starts stroking his head.

“I didn’t have anyone for a long time after that. Not until I met you,” He continues. “It… It was lonely and scary and… I guess when I saw Walt today.” There’s a lump in his throat. He remembers the changeling’s familiar scared eyes looking up at him. He swallows hard. “I thought that it would be nice if he didn’t have to go through that.”

They sit in silence for a while. The soft night noises filter into the cave and the fire flickers gently.

Archie sighs.

“Very well. If… Walt… wants to stay he can. I will support your decision.”

Douxie grins down at his familiar. He swipes quickly at his eyes and then pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks, Archie. You’re the best.”

His familiar’s quiet purrs belie his grumbling.

~~~~

When Douxie wakes up in the morning. There’s a second set of wings wrapped around him. He cracks open his eyes and finds that Walt has cuddled up to them during the night. The little changeling’s head is pressed up against his chest and his wings are wrapped around him and Archie. Douxie’s cloak is over the three of them.

~~~~

~~~~

Author Notes:

Walt was listening in when Douxie and Archie were talking.

I'm trying to get caught up on my asks. This has been in my inbox for a while. Hope you find this Anon!

Some fun thoughts on this AU: ~Douxie kind of ends up being Walt's father figure in this. ~Walt doesn't usually call him "Dad" though unless he's feeling particularly emotional or being sarcastic. ~Due to their appearances Walt sometimes has had to pretend that he's Douxie's father, which is always weird for them. ~Walt ends up becoming Douxie's apprentice and learning magic. ~He isn't connected to the Janus Order because they think he got killed when he was exposed. He's fine with that. ~When he finds out about Jim being the Trollhunter he tells Douxie (who was out of town at the time.) ~Jim and Toby are very confused when they ask about how Douxie and Strickler are related and Strickler says that Douxie raised him. Their graying history teacher referring to what looks like a 19 year old as his father does not compute.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @bookloverfilmoholic @elinedjarin @eury-dice3 @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @jagi-yaaa @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

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[markosmate]

taken away

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au:// Woohoo y’all part 4 and we’re finally getting into the good stuff, only two more chapters till the smut ;)

Part 3   -   Part 5

“Where you going, Star?” My eyes snapped up to the owner of the voice, and they temporarily widened when I realized it was the same man the girl had left with the night prior. Apparently, her name was Star. His gaze was sharp, a silent warning that she better not defy him and proceed to get on Michael’s bike.

“For a ride. This is Michael.” She explained softly, gaze never leaving the mullet man. My own gaze flicked away from the conflict and towards my right where not even two feet away sat Marko, sitting atop his bike, and eyes already on me. He grinned a devilish kind of smile when my eyes met his and he sent me a small wink when I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away for a good few seconds.

“Let’s go.” Michael’s voice broke me out of it as he continued to try and get Star to leave with him. It didn’t work.

“Star.” Mr. Mullet warned. My eyes flicked between him and Star as she finally gave up and stepped away from Michael’s bike, grabbing the man’s shoulder and hoisting herself onto the back of his bike. I raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding the dynamic of whether or not they were together.

Once Star was seated comfortably and the dark-haired biker pulled the small child onto the back of his bike, Mr. Mullet turned his attention back to Michael. “You know where Hudson’s Bluff is? Over-looking the point?”

Michael scoffed a bit and shook his head. “I can’t beat your bike.”

Mullet grinned deviously and revved his engine. “You don’t have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up.” Before any of them made a move to leave, his gaze flicked to mine. “You’re more than welcome to tag along, doll. Wouldn’t want to leave a girl like yourself here alone.” And despite everything screaming in my head that I would be crazy to leave with these guys, and that I promised myself I wouldn’t associate with them and would turn in the other direction if they even glanced at me, I nodded.

His face lit up in an arrogant smirk and before I could even make the move to mount the back of Michael’s bike, Marko locked his gaze onto mine. “You could ride with me sweet thing, I’ll keep you safe. Promise.” There was a teasing tone to his words, and I rolled my eyes at his stupid pet name, but accepted his invite nonetheless. I hated riding with Michael, he was always jerky with the steering and switching between going way too fast and way too slow. These dudes couldn’t possibly be worse drivers than him, no matter where they were taking us to.

I pushed myself up and off the railing and walked around the side of his bike. I didn’t miss the victorious smiles the two long-haired blonds sent each other, but I chose to ignore it. I grabbed his shoulders and hoisted myself up onto the seat behind him. He looked back over his shoulder with a sly grin and whispered quietly to me. “Hold on.” I listened to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso and holding on for dear life as they set off. 

The four bikes sped down the boardwalk, weaving between crowds of people and almost hitting a few concession stands, and finally the boys all quite literally jumped the staircases onto the beach sand. They must have done that a thousand times, because Marko was able to steady the bike as soon as it hit the sand and he kept going as fast as possible without ever making a move to slow down. I lifted my face from being buried in the back of his shoulder and turned my head to see how Michael was holding up.

He seemed to slow his bike to a stop at the top of the staircase, hesitating and debating his options, before eventually opting to rev the bike down the stairs. His back tire kicked out as he hit the sand, but he quickly balanced the vehicle back out again. Once I knew he was safely traveling behind us, I turned back around to face the direction we were heading in. The boys seemed to be riding in a kind of diamond shape so they could all make eye contact with each other if need be. From my spot, I caught sight of Star turning to catch a glance of Michael before turning to face forward and grin happily as the boys cheered. 

I loosened my grip on Marko’s middle slightly, but not too much because I liked being this close to him in a weird sort of way. He turned his head to cheer with Paul who was laughing his ass off on his own bike a few yards away. I laughed and pressed my cheek to his shoulder blade to watch the ocean as we drove across the entirety of the beach. Soon the bikes moved into a line instead of the previous diamond, and we were speeding through the wooden stakes of the pier and swerving over a dirt path leading through the woods.

Finally, we emerged from the woods into a large cloud of fog, something completely abnormal at this time in the night and near this close to the bluff. I hugged myself closer to Marko as he, and the two other bikers pulled off to the side to let Michael and Mr. Mullet play a rather dangerous game of chicken leading towards the edge of the point.

At the last moment, Michael laid down his bike, skidding to a stop just before he plummeted over with his front tire hanging inches off the edge. Mullet braked his bike just in time, and he and Star stared out over the edge down towards the waves crashing against the bank. Marko and the two others quickly stopped their bikes as Michael stood sharply and whirled on Mullet.

I quickly stood from the bike and moved off to the side to get out of the boys’ way. The three bikers pushed themselves off their bikes, laid them down to the ground, and quickly moved closer as Michael ran towards Mullet. “What the hell you doing, huh?”

“No!” Star’s short scream of protest cut through the air as Michael pulled his fist back before punching Mullet clean across the face. The three others of the group quickly grabbed ahold of my brother and yanked him backwards, but he reciprocated just as fast and used both arms to shove back the dark-haired biker and Marko on either side of him.

He pointed at Mullet and began speaking once more. “Just you, come on! Just you.” He repeated, glaring Mullet down as the biker turned to look back at Michael with an eerily calm grin. “Come on, just you.” Michael mumbled again as Marko turned to grin at the other blond at his side.

“How far you willing to go Michael?” He mocked, watching with calculated eyes at Michael’s next move. Mullet gestures for his three friends to head down into the cave, and they all disperse from the three and begin to move their bikes so they’re out of sight. Before I can even try to make my way over to Michael to check if he’s alright, a pair of arms wraps around my waist from behind and swings me for a short moment. I let out a short squeak of a laugh, deciding that the chances of it being Marko are very high and there was no need for me to panic at the contact.

The wind blows hard from behind us, and a few locks of curly hair are blown forward across my shoulders. That confirms it, I note to myself.

After Michael’s and Mullet’s bikes are hidden away with the others, the eight of us make our way down a set of stairs that lead to an opening in the rock. The dark-haired boy leads us, a large burning stick in his hand that he uses to light a couple of fires around the cave.

The glam-rocker dude jumped down the last rock hand-in-hand with the young child. “Rock bottom, bud.”

“Yeah.” The kid laughed along, moving off to the side towards a large radio speaker. Marko gripped the loop of my jeans, pulling me to jump off the last rock and land next to where he was standing. I tore my eyes away from where Michael was to look at the curly-haired boy next to me. He was watching what Mullet was doing, not looking me in the eyes, but a smirk curled his lips when he noticed me staring.

As Mullet began explaining the history behind the cave we were in, Marko scooped a pigeon up from where it was picking at crumbs, and held it against his check as he pulled my belt loop to have me leaning against one of his legs. “Not bad, huh? This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla about 85 years ago.” Mullet’s voice echoed through the cave as glam-rocker leaned down to grab the heavy radio from the kid. “Too bad they built it on a fault. In 1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up, this place took a header-” He clapped his gloved hands together loudly as he walked around the fountain and in the direction of the corner where Marko and I stood. “- right into the crack. So now it’s ours.”

“So check it out, Mikey.” Glam rocker teased from on top of the fountain, busying himself with lighting a blunt. The guys all laughed at his teasing, before Mullet turned to where Marko and I were standing. 

“Marko,” Said boy immediately stood a bit straighter, shifting from foot to foot and loosening his hold on the pigeon and I. “Food.” Marko gave a short nod, letting the pigeon go and turning to me. He jokingly kissed my cheek before whispering a little too softly into my ear.

“Be back soon, sweet thing.” When he pulled back he was sporting a large Cheshire grin, and he winked as I smacked his hair with a small laugh before turning and hopping back up the rocks we originally came down.

Now that he was gone, I couldn’t make myself look occupied and avoid contact with any of the other boys. I watched as Mullet held the blunt glam-rocker had given him up to Michael and offered it to him as an appetizer. Michael declined, and while Mullet’s attention was diverted I analyzed everyone else to see who the most approachable was. I decided on glam-rocker, shyly moving over to the couch he was seated on and plopping down next to him.

He grinned at me when he saw me make myself comfortable. “Hey, babe. Nice to meet you.”

I smiled back at him and gripped the hand he was offering to me, shaking it firmly. “Ivory.”

He laughed, almost a disbelieving kind of laugh, before locking eyes with me again. “Oh, we already know. Marko told us. I’m Paul, that’s Dwayne,” He pointed towards the dark-haired one sitting on the furniture opposite of us who sent me a small smile and tiny wave. I waved back before keying back into what Paul was saying. “And that’s David. You might wanna start calling him his name, I don’t think he takes too kindly to just ‘Mullet’.”

I felt my face flush and my eyes shot back to lock onto Paul’s. “Oh no, have I been calling him that out loud?”

I don’t remember calling him that out loud at all to be completely honest, but Paul grinned back at me like he knew something that I didn’t and went right along with it. “Oh yeah, definitely. Like three times, if I’m telling you the truth.”

I shot him a bewildered look before laughing. “Well, great first impression for the scary one I guess.”

Paul chuckled along with me. “Hey, you’re after Marko right now, if there’s anyone to be labeled the scary one - other than David - it’s him.”

I shrugged at his words. “My feelings for the blond can’t be helped.” I quite enjoyed this little banter we had going back and forth, it was flowing easily and I enjoyed being able to have an ongoing conversation with someone without it turning awkwardly quiet halfway through. After a little more banter between Paul and myself, footsteps echoed across the rocks and Marko jumped down into the cave.

“Feeding time, come and get it boys!” He called out voice echoing. 

“Alright.” Paul cheered quietly as Marko carried the large box towards where David was sitting in his wheelchair.

“Chinese... Good choice.” David complimented when he saw the food inside the carryout box. Marko handed a container to David, before turning and tossing one to Dwayne.

“Over here bud.” Paul called out and Marko tossed one to him as well. The curly-haired biker then pulled out another container and leaned over to hand it to me, shooting a small smile my way when I thanked him.

I leaned back against the couch, Paul at my side, and watched as David opened up the box of rice in his hands. He took a bite of it before leaning over and offering some to Michael. “Guests first.”

“No.” Michael politely declined, holding up his hand and shaking his head softly. “You don’t like rice? Tell me Michael, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong?” David questioned, his joke causing the other boys to laugh at Michael’s expense. Mike snorted quietly before leaning over and excepting the rice, pulling the fork out and taking a bite.

I shifted in my seat, pulling my knees up to my chest and watching as David grabbed another box from Marko’s hands. A weird feeling filled my chest as I watched David look up at Michael instead of continuing to pick at his noodles.

“How are those maggots?” David’s voice suddenly broke the air and my eyebrows shot up. Michael looked up at him, eyebrow quirking and eyes filling with confusion.

“Hm?”

“Maggots, Michael. You’re eating maggots, how do they taste?” Michael rolled his eyes at what David was saying but looked down at his box nonetheless. I followed in his steps and brought my gaze down to my own box. Rice, that’s all that was in mine. My eyebrows furrowed and I lifted my gaze over to Michael’s box and had to physically fight myself against gasping aloud. Maggots wiggled around each other, almost completely overflowing from the container. Mike’s eyes widened and he threw the box to the floor, leaning to the side to spit out the creatures while the four boys laughed and Star protested against what was going on.

Mike reached up, and grabbed a piece of rice from his lip before looking back down at the box. We both stared in disbelief as the contents spilled on the floor weren’t even close to resembling maggots anymore - now all that sat there was the same rice in the rest of the boxes. “Sorry about that. No hard feelings, huh?”

“Nah.” Michael shook his head, obviously trying to play it off cool as I switched my gaze between the spilled rice and David, who shoved his chopsticks into the noodles he was holding. How had he done that? I had clearly seen maggots rummaging in the take-out container, but the next second they were back to looking like parcels of rice.

Suddenly, David leaned over and offered Michael the box of noodles in his hand. “Why don’t you try some noodles?”

I watched Michael physically recoil from the offered food and I was almost scared to look down and see what it was this time. “They’re worms.” Michael wasn’t lying, I caught a glimpse of the box before David pulled it back to himself and there were, indeed, clumps of worms twisted around each other.

“They’re worms.” David snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes and collecting a few on his chopsticks.

“Hey, don’t eat that-” Michael tried to protest but shut his mouth when the only thing that was wrapped around the chopsticks and getting stuffed into David’s mouth were a tangle of noodles.

David swallowed his food, before looking back down to Michael with a small satisfactory smirk. “They’re only noodles, Michael.” I stared at the platinum blond in admiration, how had he managed to make both of us actually see something that wasn’t really there? How had he managed to make both the maggots and the worms seem so realistic? 

“That’s enough.” Star spoke clearly, trying to get the boys to listen to what she was saying.

“Ah, chill out girl.” Paul shushed her from beside me, clearly enjoying the show David was putting on for them at Michael’s expense.

Suddenly, David’s cold eyes turned to me. He smirked, and gestured Marko over to him.

Marko leant over, letting David speak quietly into his ear and letting his eyes lock onto mine as the leader spoke. He nodded a bit, breaking his gaze from mine, dropping his food onto a small side table, and turning and walking over to an old, dusty collection of drawers. I watched him intently, feeling in that moment like I could live the rest of my life completely content if I could just watch Marko do absolutely anything. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a large bejeweled bottle with red liquid swishing around on the inside.

He carried this bottle with both hands and made his way back over to David’s side, handing it over to his leader as gently as possible. Everything became silent, and Star made her move to stand over to the side of where Michael was sitting against a broken fountain. Marko maintained his spot beside the platinum blond, but this time his eyes stayed on me - regardless of if mine returned his gaze or not.

David popped the cork of the bottle and raised it to his lips, taking a large gulp of the liquid and letting his eyes roll back into his head in pleasure after swallowing it. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the interaction unfold. He opened his eyes, now a faint bloodshot, and locked them immediately with Mike’s.

“Drink some of this, Michael.” I didn’t like the feeling I got in my chest just then, a deep unsettling feeling that shook me to my core and made me want to run up and out of the fallen hotel and hightail it home. Judging by Michael’s expression, he obviously didn’t have even close to the same idea I did. He watched David with interested eyes as he spoke his next few words. “Be one of us.”

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[clareguilty]

Coal Fires and Snowstorms

This was a request fic that was originally for the Overwatch cowboy but I changed to Arthur Morgan for... apparent reasons Arthur Morgan/F!Reader (reader also has big enby vibes) Rating: Mature | No Warnings Word Count: ~2,200

Arthur wakes with a wheeze, bolting upright and smacking his chest with his fist as he tries to pull in enough air.

He’s shirtless, but a woven blanket had been draped over him while he was unconscious. A ray of light cuts through a grimy window. The angle is harsh enough that it’s probably late in the evening.

The last thing Arthur can remember is the dark of the night and the clamoring of the law on his heels. So he’s been out for at least a day.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his muscles groan in protest with every movement. God, his head is pounding like he was hit by a damn train.

A door creaks open, and there’s a squeak of surprise. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Arthur blinks in the harsh sunlight that’s streaming into the small cabin. Whoever is there is bundled up in furs and a jacket with a bow over their shoulder. They’ve got two armfuls of game practically swallowing them.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He means for it to sound rough and demanding, but it’s more croaky and pathetic when the words pass his lips.

“I’m not really anybody, and this is my cabin up in Cumberland. The law chased you a long ways from Annesburg didn’t they? You must have done something real bad.” The hunter dumps all the game onto the table and rushes to the bedroll where Arthur lays. “You aren’t hurt too bad or nothing, but you’ve got a real nasty cough. I’ve got tea and herbs that should help. I bandaged up all the bleeding bits as best I could”

Arthur is bewildered. He knows there had been a fire in Annesburg -- the coal had gone up in a pyre in seconds. Somehow, he had gotten separated from Dutch and the others. The smoke had taken him like crows to a carcass, and he was lucky to make it across the ridge with the way his eyes and lungs were burning.

The last thing he remembered was the pinkertons still on his heels and the darkness of the trees as he tried to hide in the brush. He must have made it to cover before the smoke and the soot finally got him.

He flinches as the hunter sticks an open flask under his nose. “Tea. It’s bitter but you’ll need it.”

Arthur sniffs the mouth of the flask, but it sure does just smell like weeds and water. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. But the flavor is a small price to pay for the way the liquid soothes the burning in his mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” he says. “You could have left me in those woods to rot. I appreciate you dragging my sorry ass back here.”

You grin and pat the bandage on his arm. “It weren’t much trouble, but you sure are one large fella.” Arthur thinks you must be a young boy -- it’s hard to tell. Your hair is short under your cap but your voice isn’t all that low.

You turn to the game on the table and grab a knife from your belt. “I hunted enough for the both of us the next few days. It’s gonna be a while before you’ve got your strength back, and a snowstorm is rolling in off the Grizzlies anyways.”

Arthur frowns. “Bit early for snow, isn’t it?”

You shrug. “Winter never listens to me. At least the game was out. Everyone is trying to feed as much as they can before it gets too cold to hunt. That includes us.”

Arthur grunts and struggles to his feet. “I can help with those,” he offers.

You watch him with narrowed eyes, obviously skeptical of Arthur’s strength. “Take the small ones,” you offer up the rabbits and squirrels.

Arthur usually doesn’t have a problem skinning game, but the smoke must have gotten to him more than he thought because he finds himself having to take a rest after just a few minutes. He finishes off the flask of tea and sorts through his pack and weapons.

“My horse…” he asks after a while.

“She’s fine,” you say. “I found her not far from where you were unconscious and she helped me get you back here. She’s out back with my Old Girl.”

“Thank you,” Arthur sounds genuinely touched. “She really means a lot to me.”

You shoot him another smile. “You’re nothing but a big softie, ain’t ya? What could you have done to have the law chasing you all the way across the damn country?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, flushing in embarrassment. “My folks might have blown up Annesburg? I don’t actually know how much of it is left…”

“Ha!” you bark. “You’re with them van der Linde folks?”

Arthur’s silence is answer enough.

“I won’t judge,” you shrug. “You’re safe as long as you want to rest here.”

And rest Arthur does. He’s confined to the bedroll, rolled out on a warm pile of furs near the stove. You’re good company, witty and friendly and far too nosy for your own good. Arthur learns that you’ve has been living in these parts for a few years now, trapping and hunting and crafting to sell in town every few weeks. It’s more of a living than Arthur could ever ask for. Arthur thinks he might be sweet on you.

It’s another day before he’s got the strength to walk. He makes it outside to his horse, glad to see that she’s well taken care of. You had said you were going off to bathe in a nearby stream, and Arthur follows the sound of the water.

He’s not expecting what he finds. The water is shallow but fast moving, and he sees a familiar jacket hung on a branch by the bank.

You’re turned away, rinsing in the ice cold water, and Arthur can see the gooseflesh on your skin.

But when you turn slightly, it’s the swell of breasts and the curve of hips that catches Arthur’s attention. He averts his eyes quickly, darting back towards the cabin with his cheeks stained pink.

Now that he thinks about it, you had never said that you were a man. Arthur had simply figured it was most likely. The soft voice and gentle features make more sense now.

“You had better wash up if you want to,” you say when you return to the cabin. “The snow is coming in tonight. I can smell it. I stocked up on herbs for your cough and we’ve got plenty of provisions. I’m gonna split some more wood to bring inside.”

Arthur can’t help but find it attractive that you’re so knowledgeable and well prepared. He makes his way to the stream on his own and washes up in the frigid water, pushing through another coughing fit when the cold makes his muscles seize.

It’s already getting colder when he gets back inside. His weak breath fogs even inside the cabin and the little stove can’t do nearly enough to warm the small space.

“You’re going to freeze,” he tells you. He’s big enough to handle the cold -- spent a damn month up in the grizzlies without much of a problem -- but you surely won’t last the snowstorm.

“I’ve made it before,” you say with a huff and a glare. “I’ve got plenty of furs to keep me warm.”

“Put your bedroll beside mine,” Arthur insists. “We can share the blankets.”

The snow begins to fall, sticking to the ground in wet clumps, and you brace yourselves for the days to come. You’re practically strangers -- save for the fact that you had dragged Arthur out of the woods and saved his life. Now you have no choice but to rely on each other until the snow melts.

Arthur wakes in the night to your violent shivering under the blankets. He pulls you so that you’re pressed against his chest, tucking both of you under the quilts closer together. “I thought you said you’d made it through this before?”

You huff, teeth chattering. “I survived. I never said I kept warm.”

“Stay close to me. It’s my turn to keep you alive.” He drifts back to sleep to the howl of the winter winds.

The next morning he’s greeted by a bowl of piping stew that makes his sinuses burn. “I had some jarred peppers I keep for weather just like this. You’re in no condition for liquor so this is the best you’re gonna get.”

Arthur accepts the stew graciously. He’s not ready for the way you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek when he offers to wash both of the bowls.

You pass the time snowed in with several rounds of cards. Arthur tells stories about him and the gang until his throat aches and he starts coughing again, and so the you regale Arthur with your life’s tale and a few stories you picked up over the years. You’re curled up next to each other in front of the stove, and you have no shame about burrowing against Arthur in a quest for body heat. He lets you steal as much as you want.

“I thought you were a boy when I first woke up,” Arthur says.

You shrug. “Most people do. I find it makes things easier a lot of the time. How’d you figure me out?” You don’t seem to feel too strongly one way or another about how Arthur and others see you.

Arthur hides his embarrassment behind a cough. “I, uh, caught you washing up in the stream.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s pretty solid proof, ain’t it.” You’re smiling, not shy at all. “You’re not mad at me for lying, are you?”

“You never lied,” Arthur says. “I just came to my own conclusions. Doesn’t matter much to me anyways, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

You frown at that. “Doesn’t matter?”

“Nah,” Arthur ruffles your short hair. “You’re cute either way.”

It’s the right thing to say. The frown disappears and you settle back against him, humming contentedly.

He wakes in the night to the feeling of your breath on his neck. You shift and your lips brush against his skin. He can’t help the way his whole body tenses at the sensation. His arm is draped around your waist, holding you close because he knows you’ll freeze if he doesn’t.

He pulls you in closer. Every inch where your skin touches his feels oversensitive and hot. You’re still asleep -- he can tell from how slow you breath against his skin, but you reach an arm around his neck and burrow against him.

His heart begins to race. He’s flushed and half asleep and you fit against him so well in this tiny cabin that you’ve made your home. One of his hands slides down your back. You moan as his palm passes over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, but you shift again and rock your hips against him.

He gasps, then has to fight back a cough. He doesn’t want to wake you, but your quest for warmth has you plastered against him in a very compromising position. It’s starting to make his long johns downright painful, and he thinks he’ll combust in shame.

You rock against him once more, mumbling sleepily into his skin.

“Darlin’” he croaks. But the sound doesn’t wake you. He tries to wriggle an arm between you so he can push you off, but instead he winds up with a handful of your breast, and the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard escapes your lips.

He freezes. He’s painfully hard now, and you’re still gently rocking against him in your sleep, perhaps even more so now that he’s got a hand on your chest.

“Arthur, please,” you whine.

He’s pretty sure you’re awake by now, so he readjusts his hand and rubs his thumb over the peak of your nipple. You let out another breathy moan against his skin. This time when he runs a hand over your ass he lets himself take a moment to appreciate how it feels under his palm, they way his fingers sink into the soft skin beneath your winter sleep clothes. He once again places his hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you so that your hips are lined up with his, straddling him under the blankets.

You whine against him once more and grind your hips downward. The friction does way more for him than he imagines it must for you, and his vision whites out momentarily at the heat and weight of you against him.

He loses himself in the motion of your hips for several long moments, but then your whines grow frustrated and unsatisfied and he knows exactly what your after.

Gripping both of your hips tightly, he flips you both so that you’re laying back on the bedroll and he’s kneeling over you.

Your eyes fly open.

“Arthur?”

“You were asleep?” he looks absolutely bewildered.

“I thought so? I was having the best dream.” Your eyes look past him as you remember.

“I don’t think you were dreaming, sweetheart,” he chuckles. He leans in to place an open mouthed kiss against your neck. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Then I think you had better keep going, cowboy.”