#so if you're looking for a bone breaking fic experience—

[psalmsofpsychosis]

My notes app VS Darthfett

Vader and Boba's Story is about hunger, hunger so bottomless and alive and consuming, it's pure hunger born out of two people being kept sated and sedated by force.

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both of them are so hungry, so hungry, they're hunters by essence, on different scales. their story is: what happens when two people let each other eat through the other?

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There are fewer things more enticing than the sight of Boba's blood on Vader's gloves— when the hunter hound recognises the true blood of another.

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Boba and Vader's relationship really is about the way only a hunting hound can stop the momentum of another hound's sprint by viciously biting and tugging at his collar. Like, Boba leashes Vader in so fucking easily, and so does Vader.

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Darthfett fics do play with the sentiment of "if you love someone let them go" as Vader's central mentality, as the core state he truly comes to learn only by the virtue of his love for Boba Fett.

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Boba is very inviting, he wants to be taken, to be killed, he loves a good challenge; he loves the power it takes to kill him and he loves seeing someone who has that. It's alluring to the ones who do hold the power too, the ones he lets close enough, his submission is so eager and true.

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The idea of Boba being protective of Vader, of shielding him— it's such a heady thing. you get this ultimate embodiment of power, and a much less powerful but ferocious person being so possessive of them. it's meaningless in the framework of power, but it's not about that; it's about love.

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The thing about darthfett is, both these people are very much contained to their suit of armour and what it entails. The suit/armour makes their history and their personhood, the very specific and often subconsciously claustrophobic way in which they exist in the world. Their suit/armour is less an item of clothing and more a narrative defining their psychological, emotional and physical threshold.

so naturally most often darthfett fanfics are about the idea of unbearable physical intimacy and the pure gravity between Vader and Fett's bodies alone, the boundaries they have to cross (and the possibility of crossing it) just to exist with each other bared.

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Speaking of which, i adore how Vader's existence feels so contained in every sense of the world, burning viciously while the flames keep curling in. He is neverending ember long after the fires ceased.

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 2

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance.

Summary: After learning that Stunna is your teacher, you must drop the class. When you're unable to, you try to break things off with Stunna. Only it doesn't go so well.

Word Count: 6,067k

Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Everybody say thank you @melaninpov. The responses to this fic was overwhelming! I love ya'll so much! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to jump out of your skin and never look back. 

To his credit, Stunna - you refused to call him by his real name - continued on with his spiel, effectively ignoring you. The only thing you could think of was how good he felt. How good he smelled. Those sweet and filthy words he whispered in your ear while he was playing with your pussy. While he owned you. While he seemed to reach inside you and yank out your soul. He stole the damn thing back in Punta Cana and now here he was. In your city. In your school. 

Your anxiety twisted your gut into painful knots that no amount of breathing exercises could fix. You felt as if you had a scarlet letter on your chest. Could anyone tell? Would anyone know? 

You tried to cast your eyes around the room, but there were only the bored looks on everyone’s faces. There were some people checking him out. You didn’t blame them. The man was gorgeous. And the chocolate outfit was so sexy against his dark skin. You wished he was wearing his grills as well. That would ruin you.

You slumped in your seat and looked everywhere but at him. You needed to drop this class. You needed to escape. There was no way that you could spend the next four months staring at that piece of art and not fail the class. Or want to leap over everyone and jump his bones.

You knew what those hands could do. You knew what filthy images he could conjure with his mouth. His deep voice was sinful and you spent a glorious Saturday getting to listen to him speak, laugh, or tell jokes. 

You couldn’t do this. But fear kept you glued to your seat. You could not get up in front of everyone and walk out where everyone could see. And what would Stunna do? Ignore you? Chastise you? Tell you sit your ass back down?

There was only so much he could do without turning awareness to the fact that you knew each other already. The last thing you could afford was a scandal. You’d end up in a newspaper somewhere. Or worse. On the news. You pictured them finding an embarrassing photo of you from the gram and blasting it nationwide. 

The headlines would write themselves. No. You did not need that type of negativity and you were not prepared to do that to Stunna either. So you endured. You waited. You avoided looking at him but you couldn’t close your ears.

You focused on breathing. You daydreamed. You did anything you could not to focus on how those pants fit his long frame. His ass looked magnificent. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to reveal his forearms. 

His eyes caught you staring and he fumbled in his speech. He recovered quickly, going over his syllabus for the class. How it was important to show up because he was the type to challenge thinking. He wasn’t going to be a stuffy professor, or at least he wouldn’t try to be. 

You heard a soft sigh to your left. You turned to the sound. There was a woman next to you with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. She looked at Stunna as if he hung the moon. 

You didn’t blame her but there was a surge of jealousy. You wanted to tell her to look somewhere else because he was fucking taken. The realization that he did not belong to you was like a bucket of ice water down your back. You turned your attention back to Stunna as he told everyone to introduce themselves.

You fought off a groan. If possible, you would sink further into your seat. You hated when professors did this type of shit. Couldn’t they get to know people some other way? In this day and age of technology, how hard was it to print pictures and names and study it like they made students study for an exam? 

Stunna parked his sexy ass on the edge of the desk in the corner of the room. He had an iPad in his hand and he seemed to be jotting notes after each student said their name and a hobby of theirs. 

When it was your turn, Stunna said your name. You took a deep breath and recited your name. You drew a blank on any and all hobbies you ever partook in. “I like to travel,” you finally said. 

Stunna smirked and nodded. “Any interesting places?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just came back from the DR, actually,” you said.

Stunna nodded. “Very cool! Now, let’s see…” He looked down at his iPad and called the next person but he still had that smirk on his face. You needed to get out. You needed away. He could not make light of the fact that you knew each other. Knowing fuck well it could jeopardize not only you, but his teaching credentials.

Soulmate or not, you were not going to let him throw away his career. The rest of the class went by while you slowly died inside. Stunna introduced some of the books he wanted to read and discuss for the next few months.

As soon as he dismissed the class, you were the first one out of the door. You didn’t think he tried to call after you, but you didn’t give him the chance to. You flew out of the classroom, out of the building, and made a beeline towards the Admin building.

You ran up the steps, lungs burning as you raced across campus. You had a runaway thought that life didn’t seem quite so dull considering that Stunna was in your neck of the woods. But you squashed that. Nothing could happen as long as he was your teacher.

You went up the elevator and got off on the floor with your academic counselor. You made it to his office and knocked on the door. Mr. Sullivan pushed his glasses from his face and looked up with a smile. He was a sweet, if aloof, man who seemed to phone in his work rather than take any joy in it. 

“How is the first day of classes?” He asked. He smiled politely, but there was a look in his eye as if he was trying to place you. 

“I need to drop a class. Or get a different class?” You sat down in front of Mr. Sullivan’s desk and clutched your backpack to your chest. You didn’t want to look at your phone. You didn’t want to see missed calls or texts from Stunna.  There was nothing to discuss until you had all your cards on the table. 

Mr. Sullivan’s thick eyebrows drew down as he woke up his ancient computer. He typed around and hummed as he did so. Your leg bounced a mile a minute as he looked up something on it.

“Forgive me, what’s your name and student number?” 

You told him, repeating it over and over because you were talking too fast for him. Once he got your information, he was back to humming as he searched. “Now, which class do you need to drop?” 

You rolled your neck and told him, again, what you needed done. He nodded and went back to clicking around. There couldn’t be that many literature classes at this fucking school. 

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked. You chewed on your bottom lip. You fought everything in here to jump over the desk and use his computer to drop the class. 

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late to drop the class,” he said.

“What? What about the first week's grace period?” 

“Usually, yes, you would have the option to switch classes. In your case, however, every literature class at your level is currently full. Perhaps you can check back in at the end of the week and see who starts switching around. Although, you do need this class in order to qualify for your major. I would not suggest dropping it and trying to make it up next year. Six classes are difficult for any student…”

He began to drone on and on about preventing burn out, protecting mental health, whatever else his nasally voice could conjure up. You tuned him out as his words replayed over and over. You were stuck with the class. Or you’d have to try and take six next semester. You could do it, you had no doubt about it. But you shouldn’t have to.

Your last year was your last hurrah before you had to think about what you wanted to do with your major. If you wanted to do grad school or not. You could do a summer class but now was the time to think about internships. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat. Hope was cruel. Hope was spiteful and evil. You had your hopes up that Mr. Sullivan would be able to help you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save you. 

The melancholy this time around sat on you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t expected to find Stunna on your trip. You hadn’t expected to fall so fast for him. You had your entire life to find someone, true, but you already found your perfect person. Written in the stars for you. Made for you. And now this.

“Now of course, there are some classes offered in the summer for a summer term. But…”

“That’s alright, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll stay in this one. Thanks,” you murmured. You left his office, let the next kid come in and bug the old man, as you left the Admin building. This shit fucking sucked. 

You finally fished your phone out of your pocket. As expected, there were missed calls and desperate texts from Stunna.

Stunna: Please, talk to me.

Stunna: Please

Stunna: I didn’t know! We never talked about it.

Stunna: At least let me know you’re alive??

Each text hurt your heart worse. You could feel his desperation, no matter how far apart you were physically. It felt as if his heart was calling towards yours. Connected on some plane you couldn’t see. The last text from him was an address. 

Stunna: Please, meet me tonight. Just to talk.

Yeah, right. If you went to his place tonight, you’d do more than talk. Your attraction to him was that strong. That powerful. You knew you needed to talk to him if you were going to stay in his class. You were both adults. You could keep your hands off of each other, right? 

Later that night, you met up with Angela and Stella back in the dorm you all shared. They could tell that something was wrong with you but you couldn’t begin to describe it. Every time you tried, the words dried in your throat. Wilting like old flowers. 

“Girl, damn. What happened between you and that guy?” Stella asked.

“Did he hurt you?” Angela asked right after. 

“It’s fine,” you said. Your leg was back to bouncing. Despite your earlier protests, you needed to talk to Stunna. Meeting at his place wasn’t the smartest move. But what was the alternative? Anywhere you met publicly, you worried that anyone would read it all over your face. You’d be just as obsessed as the girl in your class. 

“It’s not fine. If he hurt you, run me his name. I’d beat that mu’fucka up!” Stella said. She held up her tiny fists and shadowboxed in the living room. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I promise he didn’t hurt me. He was the perfect gentleman,” you said. Even while he was in your guts, he was still sweet afterwards. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Right? I feel like we should have told her to look the other way,” Stella said.

“How could we? That man was so damn fine!” Angela said.

“All of them were! Like where the hell they grow them at?” 

The sisters went back and forth talking about Stunna and his friends. They were right. All of them were fine. But Stunna was different. Smooth skin, neat beard. Tall as a tree. He checked every last one of your boxes. Smart, funny, cultured, traveled, well read. 

You were in trouble. You were standing on the train tracks watching the train approach with lights on, horn blaring, and you couldn’t make yourself move. Didn’t want to move, truth be told.

The time to meet Stunna grew closer. You felt it like the swing of a pendulum. You kept checking your phone. You hadn’t answered Stunna and he hadn’t sent anything else after his address and plea for you to come over. 

Before it got too late, you told the sisters that you would go to the library to see if they had the books you needed for class. Anything to avoid having to go to the student store to purchase the books you’d only need once. They continued to talk and watch TV, content to still recover from the trip.

You went to your room, closed the door, and let the panic overtake you. You tore through your closet trying to find an outfit that screamed that this was casual. You were not trying to look pretty for the man. 

Jeans seemed too casual. A skirt seemed too suggestive. Romper seemed too out of place. You were thinking too much about it. And you were stalling. You sighed and chose a dress. It still seemed too suggestive, but dresses could be casual. It was whatever. It was no big deal. 

You got dressed and left the dorm, heading across campus and off site. There were campus-owned apartments here and you quickly walked, hoping to avoid trouble. The air was cool, almost cold, and there was a light breeze that made trees sway. 

In your haste to leave, you forgot a jacket. Stupid. Stupid just like your decision to hike to his apartment up the block. Your feet carried you there anyway and soon you were outside of his door, knocking on it.

A second later, Stunna opened the door. He changed out of his outfit for the day. He wore gray sweatpants and a black tank that highlighted his amazing physique. 

God took his time with this one. 

There was no doubt about it. You were momentarily struck dumb, openly staring at his body.

“You wanna come in?” His deep voice shook you from your filthy thoughts. 

You smiled and giggled nervously. He stepped back and you went inside. The place was like any other standard apartment. White walls, bright hardwood floors that had seen better days, with a small kitchen and bar area. 

He had boxes lined up against the wall. Some were open and some weren’t. He was still in the middle of moving in, but he had a linen couch and recliner, coffee table, and a flat screen TV with a football game playing. 

He crossed the room and put it on mute. He wiped his hands on the back of his sweats, calling attention to his glorious ass. You clasped your hands in front of you lest the traitorous things do something rash, like smack his booty. 

“I was hoping you’d come.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to,” you admitted. You felt silly standing in the middle of his living room but you didn’t want to sit down and get comfortable either. 

“I’m glad you did. Now I wish we would’ve at least discussed where we were from. When you said you were starting classes, I just didn’t think that it would be possible you’d be in my class,” he said. 

You groaned and rubbed your temples. “I tried to drop the class today,” you said.

A flash of hurt ran across his features before he turned to the TV. A moment later, his features were schooled and he nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

“I couldn’t drop it. It was too late. Everyone else was full and if I wait till next year, I’d be working overtime to pass all my classes,” you said. 

Stunna just stared at you across the gap. You played with your fingers, tapping the tips to keep you grounded. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. He gestured towards the couch. “Please, come sit. I won’t bite.” He grinned at the end of his sentence and you rolled your eyes, fighting off a grin. He was so damn corny.

You stepped closer anyway, feeling better with each step towards him. You didn’t like being that far away from him either. You sat down, smoothing your blue dress over your legs so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong impression. Maybe jeans would have been better. You definitely needed pants right now. 

You felt the heat of Stunna’s attention on your legs, but you clasped your hands over your lap and kept your legs firmly closed, no matter how awkward or painful it was because of your thick thighs. 

Stunna sat on the edge of the cushion, legs spread wide and taking up so much room that his knee almost brushed yours. His knee may as well have been a raging fire. This was insane right? To feel so intensely for a stranger? 

Stunna didn’t feel like a stranger, that was the problem. He felt like you had known him all your life and you were only remembering your time together. It was surreal and you had no frame of reference for something like this. 

“So you can’t drop the class. And I just got hired so I can’t drop it either,” he said.

“Nope,” you said, emphasizing the P. 

“We didn’t imagine our connection in Punta Cana. It felt like I was dying when you walked away,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said. You sighed and refused to look at him. 

“Don’t tell you the truth?” He asked.

“We can’t do anything about it! You’re…my teacher,” you said. 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything about it. I’m just…I’m saying that we can’t ignore this. I just found you,” he said. He tilted his head so that he could catch your eyes. You looked up at him and melted. 

He was so damn cute that it hurt. It physically hurt you that he looked that way, smiled that way, and all of his attention was focused on you. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was cruel.

“We finally found each other and the universe really said ‘guess again’.” You tried to smile but your heart hurt too damn much. 

Stunna moved his hand and slowly grabbed yours. You let him. He slid his fingers in between yours. His hand was hot to the touch. But comforting. Solid. Real. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of your hand. 

“It’s not forever. We can restrain ourselves for four months, can’t we?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and looked him over. How? How could you be in the same class as him or be near him and not want to touch him? Hold him? Kiss him? You had shared so much on the beach in the DR and more so in his room. 

He pried you open and stared deep into your heart without flinching. He touched your soul. Melded and meshed your worlds together. You couldn’t ignore that. You also didn’t want either one of you to get in trouble. Someone would catch on. It may not be now or in a week, but someone would eventually. 

“We can restrain ourselves for four months,” you agreed. It was only four months. Twelve weeks. That was nothing. It would fly by. 

Stunna nodded and squeezed your fingers. “So, that means we probably shouldn’t meet like this. Or be alone…ever in the next four months. Because I’m not strong enough to resist you,” he said.

“Shut up!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish I could let you see inside my head. You have been on my mind all day. All last night. The things I was thinkin’ ‘bout you earlier,” he said. He bit his lip, head tilted to the side. If you squinted, you were sure that you could see the dirty fantasies playing through his mind. 

“You are insane,” you said. “That doesn’t help!” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate,” he said. 

He still held your hand in his and you stared at it. You fit like two lost puzzle pieces to a complicated puzzle. You didn’t want to let go. But you needed to. It needed to start now.

You started to slide your hand from his. He squeezed your hand, unwilling to let go. “Stunna,” you whispered.

“This shit isn’t fair,” he said softly. 

“I know. It’s not forever, right?” You asked. 

He nodded and loosened his grip. You slipped your fingers from his. You lied. This was the hardest shit you ever had to do in your life. Saying goodbye to him the second time hurt a lot worse. It was physical blow to your gut. 

In the DR, you could pretend that it was just a vacation fling. You were talking about meeting up again, but that was in the future. At some unknown date that you didn’t have to think about. You had weeks or months to get to know each other. 

Now, he was real and in your face. Now, he was close enough to reach out and grab. An ache thumped in your chest and you stood up. If you didn’t get up and leave right now, you were going to break down in his new apartment and no man needed to see that. 

You stood and stepped away from his couch, already feeling the numbness creep back in. The hopelessness that the next four months would drag on and on. You made it halfway to the door before Stunna called your name.

You turned towards him just as he was crashing his lips to yours. You hadn’t heard him cross the distance, but with his long ass legs it probably only took him two steps to reach you. He grabbed the sides of your head and tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. 

The strength of his kiss undid you. You melted instantly into his arms, kissing him back with as much desperation. He backed you up until your back hit the wall and he pressed you into it, rubbing his erection into your lower belly. 

You had a taste of that so you knew how good it felt. How well he maneuvered it to bring you the most utmost pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders and held him closer to you while you kissed and explored each other’s mouths.

His warm lips were heaven against yours. Tongue playing with yours. You never wanted it to end. Just kissing him got your panties damp, arousal starting to leak out of you. Sweat gathered between your thighs and you rubbed them together, needing more friction than that.

Stunna broke the kiss, giving you some much needed oxygen. It brought a little clarity. “Stunna, we can’t–” 

Stunna kissed you again, cutting off your complaints. “We need a proper goodbye right?” 

“We had one yesterday,” you pointed out. 

“Naw, this is a real one. Please. I can’t let you walk away for four months without something to hold me over,” he said. 

“You so nasty,” you said and grinned. 

He looked into your eyes and grinned. His smile would always slay you. It was so open and joyous. Straight teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect man. 

“Hm, I seem to recall a bad little girl letting strangers play with her pussy,” he said. He smacked your lips with his, once and then twice. He kissed along your jaw and then started kissing your neck. “You can’t wear a dress like this and not expect me to lose my mind.” 

“I didn’t know what to wear!” You said. 

His hands moved from your head down your sides and then gripped your ass under your dress. He moaned, clenching and unclenching your ass cheeks with a low growl. 

“Do me a favor and don’t wear dresses for the next four months. I won’t be able to handle it,” he said. 

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. He wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Then you have to come to work looking like a bum, because that’s not fair,” you said. He got to look like an Adonis while you had to dress like a nun? How was that fair?

He squeezed your ass and you moaned, back bowing off of the wall. “Take these panties off for me,” he said. 

Your hands flew to your panties before your mind caught up. You hesitated briefly. Stunna stilled against you, likely giving you a chance to step away. Fuck it. You needed a proper goodbye. You needed something to hold you over as well. Something to get you through these next four months.

You got rid of your panties and he helped you take off your shoes and then your panties. He grinned, lips returning to yours. You moaned, feverish for his kisses. Stunna hissed knelt down in front of you.

He gathered up your dress and pooled it around your hips and fisted it in one hand. He spread your pussy lips with his free hand and delved into your pussy with his tongue. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. You lifted one leg to give him better access. He growled his appreciation and moved his long tongue towards your dripping entrance. He pumped his tongue in and out of you and your eyes rolled back.

“OH fuck!” You screamed. Your hands dug into his small afro and pulled whatever you could get your hands on. His mouth felt amazing on your pussy. His nose tickled your clit and you felt it in your belly. You huffed and moaned, thighs shaking. 

He moved his tongue to your clit and flicked it back and forth with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. Your whines turned to desperate cries as you began to shake in earnest, screaming out an orgasm. 

Stunna rolled his whole head, slurping up your juices. He moaned into your pussy. He smacked your ass as you twitched above him. You looked down and caught his eyes at the same time. You almost came again. Locking eyes with him brought a level of intensity to the moment that you couldn’t describe. He made you feel like you were a giant. Or sitting on top of the world. 

When he was done with you, he slowly withdrew. There was a spit chain between his lips and your pussy. He grinned, watching it expand. He finally licked his lips and broke it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. 

“Taste even better than I remember. Should’ve seen the nut I busted in the shower this morning,” he said.

Your head dropped forward against his chest. “Fuck, don’t tell me that,” you said.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. You lifted your head and moved your hand beneath his sweats. He went commando underneath and you lifted an eyebrow at him. He grinned as your hand wrapped around his dick. You stroked him slowly because you didn’t have enough lubrication to get him going.

“Was gripping my meat and stroking, thinkin’ ‘bout you. About the sounds you made. The way you fit me so well,” he said. As he spoke, his tone went lower. He leaned forward and kissed you. 

He moved his hips and your hand slipped out. You looked at him with the question in your eyes. He grabbed your hips and turned you around. “As much as I would love those lips on me, I’ve been dying to get back in this pussy,” he said. 

He tugged the top of your dress until it came down and trapped your arms to your sides. He pushed you against the wall. The cold hit your nipples and you cried out. He scooted in closer and you felt him tug his sweats down. 

He lifted your left leg, slapping his meat against your pussy. The wet smacks were filthy. You moaned and he ran his dick in between your folds, getting the tip wet.

The tip of his dick pushed at your entrance and you moaned. He slid in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of getting filled up by him. You were a huffing, panting mess by the time he bottomed out. He kissed your neck where it met your shoulder and you moaned. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Exactly your sentiments. You fit. You were a perfect match. He filled you up, just this side of incredibly full, and you closed your eyes to the sensation. To the feeling. He pinned you to the wall and began to move slowly, sliding in and out of you.

“Shit,” he moaned. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you moaned. 

“I feel good? You feel like home,” he said. He continued to kiss your neck, nibbling a bit, as his strokes increased. 

Your hands were on the wall, trying to anchor yourself against him. His strokes increased until he was rutting inside of you. Each thrust drew a ragged moan from your lips. He moved to a different angle and touched your sweet spot. You cried out, shaking desperately on his dick.

“There’s my fucking spot,” he said. He grinned against your skin. Your head flopped to the side. You bit your arm. He felt too good. Slipping in and out of you. The wet smacks of your combined juices were lewd and turned you on more. Made you drip more. 

“So fuckin’ wet, nasty girl. You like this dick, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding your head. 

“You like this dick inside you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh, so good,” you moaned. You drooled against your arm. 

“Let me hear you then,” he said. He moved his free hand down between your legs and began to stroke your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your moans increased in volume, turning into screams as you crashed into another orgasm. 

Stunna kissed your cheek and jaw, licked the shell of your ear. “Sound so pretty when you cum. Music to my ears, baby,” he said. 

“Nut in me,” you moaned.

“What?” He asked. 

“Nut in me, please, I need it,” you moaned. 

Stunna growled and increased his thrusts. They turned into a brutal fucking, spearing you. He still played with your clit as he slammed into you, fucking you just how you liked. There was no begging. There was no negotiating. You didn’t have to stop in the middle to communicate that yes, it was okay to get rougher. It was okay to rock into your shit. 

Stunna just did it. He gave you exactly what you needed. 

“You want this nut?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said.

“Stunna, ouuee Stunna,” you moaned in between his strokes.

“That’s right, you let me know who owns this pussy,” he said. 

“You. You own this pussy,” you moaned. He groaned before you finished your sentence. He nutted, his hot cum filling you to the brim. Some of it even slipped out and ran down your thigh. You shivered, your head turning fuzzy at the sensation. 

Stunna finally stilled his strokes and let his dick pulse. You hissed feeling it. Stunna dropped your thigh and grabbed your neck. He pulled you back into him and you turned your head so that you could kiss him. The kiss was sloppy and you both panted, breath fanning across each other’s faces. But any touch of his lips was worth it.

Stunna kissed your cheek. “I still got some more for you,” he said.

“More?” You asked.

Stunna slipped out of you and then roughly turned you around. He kissed you, pressing you back against the wall with the force of his kisses. He kissed down your body, rolling his tongue around both of your nipples. You cried out. 

He tugged you by the front of your dress towards the arm of his couch. He bent you over it and spread your ass cheeks. He moaned and smacked your ass. 

“Fuck, I need all night with you to say goodbye,” he said. 

You were too blissed out to chuckle. Or laugh. Your head was floating, flying; your mind went on a little trip and you had no plans of returning. 

He slipped back inside and you shared a moan, feeling complete once more. He immediately went back to pounding and rutting, slamming his thighs against your ass with the force of his strokes. 

“Who own this shit?” He asked.

“Youuu,” you moaned.

“Own the fuck outta this pussy. Feelin’ so good, pussy feelin’ so good. It’s mine now,” he groaned in between thrusts. The arm of the couch dug into your gut and it felt good. You felt just as you did on Saturday night. Possessed. Owned. 

“It’s yours!” You moaned. “It’s yours, Stunna!” 

“Damn right. Gonna write my initials in this pussy,” he groaned. His fingers turned bruising on your hips. 

His initials were already there. It felt like with every stroke, he was stitching your souls together. You became one soul every time his tip kissed your cervix. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned on each thrust.

His fingers moved to your clit again, flicking his fingers against it. You tried to lean up. You didn’t know why, only that you needed to move. To ease up a bit. He pressed on your back and made you take his dick. Made you take the brutal pounding. 

“Guhh,” you moaned and came with a loud cry. Your pussy gripped onto him and he moaned, thrusts turning sloppy and twitching. He came right after you, giving you another round of his cum. He soaked your pussy and you shivered, full body shaking.

Stunna slammed once more into you and then stilled, dick pulsing. His cum slipped down your thighs again. You were deliciously sore. You both panted in the quiet space. You listened to any sound he made. Greedy to capture everything. If this was goodbye, you were hesitant to see what hello looked like. 

Stunna slowly slipped out of you. You cried out. 

“Shh, shh, you know I got you, baby,” he said. When he was out, you were still sore as hell. You began to shake as the cold crept in. Something so powerful took a lot of energy. You weren’t just imagining things on Saturday. It wasn’t the anonymity of the vacation. You two shared a real connection. The kind love songs and poems were written about. And it was scary as hell. 

Stunna returned with a warm washcloth. You cried out, leaning up against the couch. Stunna cooed and talked softly. “I got you. I’m right here,” he said. He finished and wiped up your thighs as well.

When finished, he disappeared with the washcloth and then came back. He helped you stand and adjusted the dress back to where it should be. Then he moved towards the couch and had you straddle him. He held you and rubbed your back as you scooted into him and laid your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. You had to find the strength to walk away from this in the morning. You weren’t going to fight it. You needed this goodbye as much as he did. You needed to get your mind wrapped around the fact that you couldn’t have this for months. 

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as shit felt like it. You were tired of being strong. But for now, you’d have to endure. It was the only way to get the best of both worlds. 

You listened to the cadence of his breathing. Warm chest. Strong arms around your back. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly.

No, it wasn’t forever.

D'awww, if you need more, you know I got you!

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/Platonic OT6

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Intro]

The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later, once he gets hungry for a meal?

Tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Human?Reader, Platonic!OT6, strangers/enemies to lovers, fantasy AU, drama, angst, fluff, romance, suggestive themes and eventual smut, Alpha!Jungkook

Length: 2k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: how many different wolf-JKs can bonny write without it getting boring challenge

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

You've always been somewhat drawn into the forest far away from the cities, even as a small child.

You remember the family trips you'd take, camping out underneath the trees, your father showing you how to make a fire, and how to set up the tents. You always enjoyed weekends like these, even though they were incredibly rare. Your mom and dad had separated early in your life, and at some point, after your father had passed away, you simply never went back to the forest ever again.

Your mother, and stepfather would always warn you of the werewolves out there instead. 'There's a reason the government gave them those forests to roam around in.' She'd always scoff. 'So they'll stay away from us humans. So they can't hurt us.' She'd warn you.

Werewolves are beasts, hiding inside a human's body. Fierce animals, with no humanity inside them whenever they'd shift into their other forms. Their bones would break loudly, blood would spill and minds would change- and once they're shifted into their wolf forms, they'd eat people's children who'd wander too far from their families, never seen again after getting lost in the woods.

Nowadays, you hardly believe those tales.

You do however fear werewolf men- because statistics prove that they don't seem to have much control over themselves. Normally, just like your mother, you'd wear simple jewelry of silver to protect yourself- something many humans do, especially those that work with wolf people a lot, just to protect themselves. But you seem to have an allergy against that type of metal- it doesn't burn you or anything- at least it hasn't yet. You usually just get really nauseous and weak from wearing any silver- so you tend to not buy anything that contains the shiny metal.

Your mom said it's nothing too problematic. Just that you should stay away from it.

The birds chirp above you, some larger one's flying off while the small one's stay behind, curiously watching you as you sit in the grass, a blanket spread out that you sit on. You're grown up now. An adult, no longer really talking to your mother or your stepfather as much. Instead, you've created your own little life- something quiet, and easy, and simple. Nothing exciting, nothing adventurous.

You don't like things like that.

Excitement always brings a certain sense of danger with it, after all. And you've had enough dangerous experiences in the past to last you a lifetime, after all. You don't need more of that.

You'd rather stay like this- all by yourself, eating a simple prepared meal in the forest, surrounded by nothing but nature. Because nature doesn't look at you weirdly. Nature doesn't judge you, or ask you things that make you uncomfortable to answer. Nature just sees you as what you are- A simple human, not out here to harm anybody.

You suddenly spin your head around when a tree branch snaps in half behind you- and suddenly, there's a young man dressed in casual clothes, piercings in his face and very telling amber eyes looking at you, his hands lifted in front of him palms open to show he's no threat.

"I'm sorry- that was super rude of me to approach you from behind. Sorry." He sheepishly admits, before he walks a bit closer, hands in the pockets of his jacket now. "Where's your pack?" He asks, and you stiffen up.

"I- I don't have one." You deny. "I'm human." You admit to him, and he tilts his head a bit in question, as you watch his eyes seemingly glow for a split second while he- smells the air?

"Really? I could swear I'm smelling a wolf.." He wonders more or less to himself, before he shakes it off. Maybe someone had come by here earlier, and he's simply catching that scent instead of yours. "Anyways, I was just passing by and thought to check up on you. This is my pack's territory, so I kind of always keep an eye out for people who wanna cause trouble." He charmingly explains, shrugging his shoulders easily.

To think that that guy.. is an apparent 'beast' is kind of.. hard to see, really. He looks pretty innocent with his round eyes and soft facial features, hair a little wild in slight curls on his head. And you're sure, he looks more like a golden retriever happy to see another person, than a wolf.

A leader, at that.

"Your pack?" You ask, and he nods, almost proudly beaming at you.

"Yep!" He chirps, walking a bit closer now as he notices you not being weirded out or anxious. "Well- kind of. Namjoon is the head-alpha, I'm kind of his stand-in at the moment until he's back from his trip." He shrugs, pointing to your blanket. "Can I.. sit down with you? I promise I'm not gonna eat you like some red-riding-hood kind of situation." He jokes, and you scoot over a bit, letting him sit down next to you- though you make sure to pull your backpack a little closer.

"I have a silver knife in my bag anyways." You threaten. That makes his eyes widen a bit.. fearfully? "So don't try anything." You threaten, and again, he lifts his hands.

"I won't, promise." He promises, before he looks at you again rather curiously, leaning in a little. "But- do you have wolf-friends maybe?" He asks. "I swear you smell like wolf. Kind of. A little- it's confusing actually." He mumbles, and you scoot away from him at that. "Hey no- sorry, I didn't mean to come off as weird. I know you humans tend to be a bit wary of us here." He deflates, and you almost feel a bit sorry for him.

Almost.

"I don't have wolf-friends." You tell him. "And I'm sorry I trespassed on.. your territory. I'll make sure to go somewhere else next time." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Oh no, please!" He denies. "It's completely chill, really! Like I said we only don't want people wrecking stuff and causing trouble. Like, you know- parties and stuff. They always leave behind their trash and shit, and that's just awful." He shrugs, making you agree.

"I won't do that." You say. "Leaving my trash here, or wrecking stuff." You clarify, and he smiles.

"Thats good." He beams, getting a bit more comfortable. "So, what brings you here?" He asks, genuinely wondering. There's a clear sign at the entrance of the forest that this is werewolf territory after all- humans don't usually even go for a walk here at all.

They stay clear of this area, and usually, Jungkook likes it that way.

"I don't know, honestly." You admit, pulling your legs closer to yourself, hugging your knees. "I just kind of.. like it here." You shrug, and he watches you for a second, and you feel like his amber eyes stare right through you and into your very soul.

Like he can see something you didn't even know was there.

"Me too. I was born in these woods though, so that might explain why I'm so attached to it." He chuckles, no longer looking at you as intensely, and quite honestly, he seems like a nice guy to be around. The perfect balance of confidence, boyish-charm and the right pinch of gentle masculinity- if he wasn't a werewolf, you probably would've been a lot more open towards him.

But every time his gaze catches yours, you're reminded of what those golden eyes mean.

The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later once he gets hungry for a meal? You won't let it get this far. You're not a dumb child he can just trick by pretending to be a friend.

"I'm Jungkook, by the way. Alpha wolf, but I promise I've got myself under control. Even got a citizens' pass if you wanna see?" He proudly grins at you, and you can't help but look at him like you don't trust his words- so he grabs at his cotton zip-hoodie, patting down the pockets before he pulls out a black simple wallet, showing off the plastic card with his identification info, a small ID photo of his right next to it. He looks young in it- but a lot more serious. "There you go. Got an 85, makes me top 1% of all wolfbloods in the country." He shows off, shoulders high as he lets you examine the card.

It's true. His IC-score is a 85, IC standing for Instinct Control. You've never seen one this high to be honest- but then again, you don't have any wolf-friends or acquaintances. His name is Jeon Jungkook, he's born in the year 1997, and his ID states he's an Alpha*. You're not sure what the little asterisk on that means- but you also don't wanna pull the plastic card out of its compartment, so you just leave it at that.

"You're older than me." You say as you give it back to him. "Not by much, but a little." You simply mumble, and he smiles, happy that you now seem to relax a bit more. Suddenly, the first drops of rain begin to hit your head and shoulder- reminding you that you wanted to go back long ago to not get caught in the small shower the weather forecast had foretold.

"Oh wow, that's gonna bring a lot of rain." Jungkook notices, looking past you at a wave of dark clouds approaching, when the first thunder rumbles. "You should go back fast if you wanna stay dry." He offers, getting up to help you fold your blanket and back your backpack again.

"I actually hiked here." You sigh. "So I'm gonna get wet anyway." You shrug, and he looks at you a bit concerned.

"You can also just sit it out at my packhouse." He offers. "I promise you, we have multiple houses there. You can stay in one of the smaller ones just by yourself if you don't wanna be around the others." He explains, and you look at him, before glancing back down the steep path you'd taken from the city far away up here where the woods stand proudly on the high hills.

There's no way you'll stay dry on your way back down.

Then, you look back at him, his honey-colored eyes seemingly glowing underneath the darkening skies above. A warning from nature, maybe, that this young man holds a beast in his heart- a beast you've been warned about for years never to get too close to.

But there's something else.

Something that makes you nod at him, before he begins to grin and take your backpack for you, leading you through the shaking trees and treaded down paths through his woods, birds already flying towards their nests as well, chirping their warnings to others as well of the changing weather.

You're not sure why you keep holding his hand even after he's done helping you step over a large root of a tree bursting through the ground. Maybe because it's warm, and the wind now brings a chilling cold.

Maybe because you just don't want to get lost and be eaten like the children in the nursery tales of your mother.

Or maybe you just hold it because you've never held someone's hand before without them complaining about it.

He turns to look over his shoulder presumably to check if you're still keeping up fine-

Golden eyes shining like little fireflies as the woods become darker the deeper you go.

[fanaticsnail]

Maybe it's just me, but I feel like tumblr has been eating my asks. I sent one to you a little while ago about an idea I thought was pretty funny, but if it's because you didn't feel comfortable answering or just didn't like it, that's totally okay. I won't be upset if you ignore this for your own comfort. I'm sorry if this is coming off as rude in any way, I'm not trying to come off that way, I promise.

The silly idea I had was, considering the beef between Kid and Beckman (probably one-sided all things considered), what would happen if Beckman had a daughter that fell in love with Kid? I'm imagining a "But daddy, I love him!" type of situation.

Reader: But daddy I love him! 🥺

Beckman: 💀 *thinking about buying 20 more packs of cigarettes*

Shanks: *dying of laughter*

Beautiful, darling anon.

Firstly, I swear to you that Tumblr has not eaten your ask. It's sitting very comfortably in my ask box while I covered my hands and muffled the initial scream of joy in my palms. The cogs have been turning ever since, and it's one of those fics that I simply cannot stop thinking about. I am consumed with it so much that I can almost think of nothing else.

Secondly, I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS PROMPT. I TOLD MY MUTUALS ABOUT IT AND I AM PHYSICALLY IMPLODING.

@jintaka-hane - here's the synopsis 😏

I have made an outline, set up several events, and attempted to make it a one-shot to no avail. It has gotten really angsty really quickly, but I am slowly but surely chipping away at it.

Here is the playlist for "But Daddy, I love him." Synopsis below the cut.

Synopsis:

Shanks always knew the risk he took in claiming a single father as the first-mate to his crew - but not ever did he anticipate an experience such as this.

Having you as Beckman's daughter, and apple of his eye, aboard the Red-Force was always a joy. Seeing the growth from a small child in infancy to a woman of such strength and courage was one of the few rays of sun against the storm clouds gathering in the raging sea.

As assistant to Hongo, the doctor aboard the ship, you opted to remain behind to seek and source out medical equipment for resupply while your father and your crew set sail for a month. Two weeks before they were due to return, you adventure to port where you witnessed the sight of a masked man dragging an unconscious, hulking redhead over his shoulder, with blood and bone breaking away at a mutilated and partially decapitated arm.

Immediately snapping into medical survival mode, you usher the two men to your lodgings and begin the horrible task of claiming the rest of this man's arm and suturing up the rest of his scarred flesh. Slipping in and out of consciousness, his tongue and lips would sing nothing but your praises each time he awoke. You bully him, yelling at him to stay put and keep still - and he flirts with you, telling you "yes, ma'am" and "no, ma'am" with as much of a grin as he can grimace through the pain.

When he finally gains full consciousness, you feel safe enough to tell relay to him the exact amount of damage done to his arm. You tell him you recognise the wound as a haki-infused bullet - something you know of intimately well. You know the treatment, you know the damage, and you know how much pain they can bring to an individual far into the future. He gruffly utters his thanks, asks you how much he owes you for treatment, and you simply roll your eyes and leave.

Before you have an opportunity to leave, he tugs at your hand and urges your faces ever closer together, looking up at you through his eyelashes and claiming your lips atop his. The kiss sparks passion, his injured state prompts your actions to remain careful but longing. He ushers you into the bed beside him and shows you just how much passion he can muster with only one arm and his partial strength.

By the end of the fortnight, you're hopelessly in love with one another. He offers you a place on his crew, and you inform him you already have one. As he reaches the pier where his ship is being repaired, you see your vessel on the horizon. He hooks his arms over your shoulder, first narrows his eyes before immediately widening them in shock.

As you point out your vessel to him, his lips part in shock. He has not only slept with a pirate rivalling his crew, but he has slept with the daughter of a man who claimed his arm from him. And he was in love with you. Desperately and unapologetically in love with you.

And you were none the wiser, only seeing your dad and your family sailing into bay to take you on their next journey.

IT HAS BEEN ON MY MIND EVER SINCE, AND I WANT TO KNOW MORE BEFORE I EXPLODE.

Anyway, that's just me. Thank you for your beautiful prompt, I am chip chip chipping away 🖤

[welcometomyoasis]

You are exactly where you need to be | Boo Seungkwan

Prompt: “No need to rush, you're doing fine. Just stay as you are" - seventeen mymy lyrics Pairing: seungkwan x gn! reader Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word Count: approx. 1750 words Warnings: mental health, anxiety, depression, dissociation, burnout, description of panic attack  A/n: this is very heavy on mental health issues so read at your own risk. Not tagging any networks just in case. The first part is very descriptive. If you want to skip to where Seungkwan comes in, scroll down to the part that says {{START HERE}}. It’s after the third section divider. Also, this is my first time writing a longer fic for Seungkwan so I’m sorry if he is out of character. 

{{LAST WARNING: PLEASE READ WARNINGS CAREFULLY}}

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

To say that the past few weeks, months (and maybe years) had been rough would be an understatement. Despite working your fingers to the bone, nothing you ever did was good enough. You were never good enough for the dean's list, you were never good enough to get the promotion you wanted, hell, you were never good enough to even get the A in the class you worked so hard for. Everything in your life felt like it had come to a stand still. Your progress had simply stagnated. In fact, you felt like you had regressed. 

You had watched as your classmates and friends went on to achieve greatness. They had the best grades and always managed to land the best jobs with the best pay. In the rat race that is life, they were the ones who won the race. You on the other hand? You felt like the rat that kept getting caught in traps, the one that was constantly picked up and moved back to the starting line. How was it that everyone who started at the same starting line as you managed to get so far ahead of you in such a short span of time?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You had always tried to put on a brave face, really you did. But the energy it took to maintain that brave face drained you completely. You gave it your all, and now, you had nothing else to give. You felt like you were drowning under the sea of your emotions. You were helpless against the waves of anxiety, anger, regret, and hopelessness that came crashing down on you again and again. It was true that in the past, you used to fight. You would fight back against the shackles of your emotions that relentlessly weighed you down. You would stretch your hands out towards what looked like the light, hoping to grasp onto something, someone, who could pull you out of the darkness. Now? You were exhausted, physically and mentally. Everything around you was a blur. You just felt so numb, so burnt out from constantly trying to push forward. So, you resigned yourself to your fate, and you let yourself be plunged back into the dark abyss in your mind. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your life was monotonous and today felt no different from yesterday, and the day before that. Everyday felt like an out of body experience for you, like you were watching someone else living their life. Perhaps it was your mind trying to help you cope with the anxiety and depression you felt everyday. The constant pull between being afraid you were never good enough with not having the energy to do anything in the first place. You were exhausted. 

Although you were numb and trying to get through the motions of life, today seemed to be the day you reached your breaking point. You received yet another disappointing test result in class. You watched as others cheered and celebrated. Sinking deeper into your seat, you fought back tears. Stuffing your paper into your bag, you looked around to make sure no one saw you. You sucked in a deep breath to keep yourself from breaking down, slipped out of class and rushed home. 

When you arrived home, you immediately bolted to the bathroom to try to calm yourself down by taking a warm shower. As you stood under the water that was cascading down your body, you tried to take in deep breaths to calm your nerves. However, the deep breaths had the opposite effect and you were soon dry heaving. You felt like you were being pinned down under a weight. Your lungs felt like they were being constricted, and you couldn’t breathe. With tears streaming down your face, you hunched over, heaving and clawing at your chest to try to get some oxygen in. And that was the state you were in when Seungkwan found you. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

{{START HERE}}

After a long day of practice, Seungkwan was excited to go home. He could finally eat the food he had been craving all day, sink onto the couch, and best of all, cuddle you. He walked up the steps to your shared apartment and opened the door. He had expected to feel the vibrations of your footsteps. Normally, you bounded up to him excitedly to give him a peck on his cheek or lips (though you never wanted to hug him because he was all sweaty from work). To which he would then whine and complain that he deserved a proper kiss and hug. Instead, he was greeted with a dark and empty house. All he could hear was the vague sounds of water running in the bathroom. 

Confused, Seungkwan dropped his bags and went to the bathroom to try and find you. As he drew nearer to the bathroom, he could hear heaving and sputters from inside. His confusion quickly turned into worry. 

He rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door, asking, “Y/n? Honey? Are you inside? Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he tried again. Again, you didn’t answer him. 

Growing increasingly worried about you, he called out, “Honey? I’m coming in.”

Pushing open the door, he saw you hunched over in the shower trying to breathe. Panicked, Seungkwan immediately rushed into the shower without a care that his clothes would be soaked. He switched off the now cold shower, and scooted closer to you. He had been with you long enough to know what you had been going through. He knew you occasionally had panic attacks and had helped you through them before. Recognising the signs, he knew you were in the middle of having a panic attack and he didn’t want to startle you by suddenly holding onto you. It seemed that you barely registered that he was in the shower with you.

In the softest voice he could muster, Seungkwan said, “Honey, I’m going to hold you now, is that okay?”

Hearing his voice, you gasped, “Kwannie?”

“It’s me honey. I’m going to hold you.”

Taking your tiny nods as a sign of consent, Seungkwan wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer to him. He gathered your hair that was stuck to your face, and pushed it to your back. Then, he slowly rubbed your arm with his hand. The warmth of his hand helped to bring you some comfort, but your brain was still too hazy and your adrenaline still too high to calm down completely. 

Seeing you snap out of your panic attack slightly, Seungkwan continued his movements, and hummed a soft melody. The rhythmic motions of his hands and voice helped to ground you. Gulping in deep breaths of air, you concentrated on Seungkwan. The touch of his hands, the sounds of his voice, and the weight and warmth of him pressed against your bare body. After a while, your breathing pattern evened out. You felt completely spent. 

Although Seungkwan was relieved you could breathe normally again, he was still worried. He felt you shiver against him. He gently scooped you into his arms and brought you out of the shower. He sat you on the toilet bowl and wrapped you in a warm fluffy towel. After drying both of you off, and wrapping you in a robe, he guided you towards your bed. Seungkwan set you down on the bed and tucked you under the covers. Then, he quickly changed his clothes and got in next to you. 

Feeling the dip in the bed next to you, you grabbed onto Seungkwan’s arm. Rubbing your hands gently, Seungkwan asked gently, “do you feel better?”

You turned to hide your head in his bicep, mumbling a soft yes in response. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

At first, you shot your head up, shaking your head violently. But as you continued to feel Seungkwan rub your hands, his touch combined with the intense amount of worry you could see in his eyes broke you. 

You ended up spilling everything to him. All your anxieties, what you had been dealing with, how you felt, everything. In the middle of it, you started to tear once again. At least this time, you had Seungkwan who was ready to wipe your tears away. 

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Seungkwan first pressed a kiss on your forehead. Then, he said, “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? I cannot imagine what you have been feeling. All I know is that you are one of the strongest people I know. I admire your drive, your determination. Most of all I admire your spirit. You deal with all these issues and yet you never give up. Yes, you encounter setbacks, you get knocked down. But I always see you push forward regardless of how difficult everything gets. You are on your own path, one that you are forging for yourself every single day. You can’t compare your progress to other people. It gets frustrating, I understand. But I want you to know. No, I need you to know that you’re doing okay. Hang in there, stay strong. There is no need to rush, you’re doing fine. Just stay as you are. While it might not feel like it, stick with it, and you will achieve many things because honey, you are exactly where you need to be.”

Letting Seungkwan’s words sink in, you choked back a sob. His words alone helped to lift the weight that had been on your shoulders. You had been so caught up in what you hadn’t achieved, that you hadn’t taken the time to celebrate what you had. You came a long way, there was no doubt about that. And Seungkwan was more than happy to remind you of all your achievements. As you lay there in bed, with your head resting against Seungkwan’s shoulders, for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything might be okay.

Because finally, after swimming in the darkness alone for so long, there was someone who took your outstretched hands. Someone who was pulling you towards the light.

[fkeknife]

wreckage of july

millions knives x reader gender neutral reader 800 words

He recoils. He tries to speak, to curse the stranger for touching him, but the breath comes out wheezing and wet and more through his throat than his lips. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” they say. “Don’t move. You’re okay right here.” Knives realizes his body is dying. The stranger is waiting for his body to die.

this fic is about you finding knives’s horrible corpse in the rubble of july and being like. boy howdy that guy is dead then he moves and you're like. oh sorry that guy isn’t dead YET. better go hold his hand while he dies so he experiences love and humanity in his last moments or whatever (MISTAKE)

read on AO3 if you like or read below if you'd rather, up to you

Night is the worst time for these kinds of things to happen. In the dark, you can’t tell survivors from orphaned limbs, shadows from trip hazards, water from blood and gasoline.

Flame spreads over what is left and casts confusing geometries of light and shadow. Smoke turns the air acrid and unbearable and rich with the smell of burning hair and flesh. The rumble and rend of delayed collapse climbs over the noise of panicked humanity.

The explosion doesn’t kill everyone, and it doesn’t break everything. Maybe that’s the worst part–incompletion. Being among leftovers.

Knives wakes in the wreckage of July, immobilized under rubble. He’s on his side, in the shadow of a wall that’s partially at his back and partially splayed over him, crushing.

He tries to move, to shove a hunk of concrete off his chest, but he finds himself weak. The world shivers. He brings a hand towards his face and struggles to focus his eyes on the bone of his fingers as they drip.

Out of the smoke and sound, something resolves before him; shoes. Then knees, then hands, pulling rubble off him, brushing thick dust from his nose and mouth and turning his face to meet a pair of eyes.

The eyes flash in and out of contact with his—wide and alert and assessing; then tight; then gentle.

He recoils. He tries to speak, to curse the stranger for touching him, but the breath comes out wheezing and wet and more through his throat than his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” the stranger says. “Don’t move. You’re okay right here.”

Their knees shift before him in the dark rock and gravel. Black liquid climbs the thread of their clothing. It’s his blood.

The hand on his face touches his cheek with a thumb; another hand slides into his slick palm.

Knives realizes his body is dying. The stranger is waiting for his body to die. As he struggles for physical awareness, it slips away. His throat is open, his chest sodden and ripping when he tries to move.

The stranger makes an odd noise when Knives twists. They try to recapture his attention. “Don’t. Don’t. Can you hear me?”

“Just wait it out. Rest.” The reassuring, gentle expression contorts, the voice breaks. “I’m so sorry I don’t have anything for the pain.”

Yeah, the pain. The pain is what makes everything so difficult.

This is stupid.

Knives screws his eyes shut and draws from the gate. He feels it—his chest starts to warm, to knit, then constricts around something and surges with pain again. This time, his voice works better, and he spits out the feeling, liquid and wordless noise.

Somebody starts. The hand around his tightens and releases.

“You-“

Knives remembers he’s with company.

The stranger’s face is blank, backlit with flame and cast with white light from Knives’s skin.

“You’re…” They trail off, eyes flicking across his body.

Knives jerks his hand away from them, trying to focus on the concept of blades and assemble them at his fingers. To strike the stranger down before they can call anyone else over, rat him out.

“…you might actually pull through this.”

The stranger leans back.

“Okay. Okay. We need to get you out of here right now, especially if you’re going to keep looking like that.”

They turn their back to Knives and begin to heave rubble off his legs, levering it sideways. “I’m going to have to lift you off that beam. I’m sorry.”

Yes—that’s what it is, in his chest. Metal and H-shaped and all the way through him.

He starts to push himself up by inches, to prop himself on his arms, but the left, untested, crumples. He slides back to the ground, sweat and wet agony.

When he opens his eyes, the stranger is over him like an animal. He sees the patterns on his skin reflected in the wet dark of their eyes. Knives swipes at their neck, but the blades are gone—or never came together at all—and his fingers rake blood uselessly across their throat. It drips back into his face.

Fingers slip again into his bloodied hand. Squeeze it. They’re warm, warmer than him. He feels the pulse of blood within them. The heat of life.

“Are you ready?”

Yes.

His hand is placed on the back of a neck. The animal leans over him, wraps limbs around him. It cradles him like an awful doll. The movement is in his ribs, in his teeth. Too slowly, not smoothly enough, it pulls him forward and over. His vision slips like a red blanket. He’s clinging to the gate. To consciousness. To power. To the nape of someone’s neck with his fingernails.

At the height of agony, of demand; something shifts.

The gate cracks away from him. And there is only the raw horror and the helplessness of it left. Him, his body, the animal, the dust, his blood, someone else’s.

He loses his grip on awareness, like everything else.

[the-mcyt-crackships-brackets]

[clears throat] anyone order clownscar fic propaganda? no? too bad. clownscar fic propaganda.

"so. i've been thinking."

"never a good sign," loony says without looking up from the redstone he's working on -- he doesn't need to look up to know it's clownpierce again, because not only does he recognize the man's voice but he also only ever ends up with one man invading his hardcore world. "what trouble are you getting yourself into this time?"

"i've been thinkin' about branzy," clown starts, and loony lets out a long-suffering sigh. "dude," he says, "you just need to call him, not-"

"-and i've decided i need to get him to call me by making him jealous. it's been too long since i've put myself out there, you know? i should be showing that i'm not only available but also a catch, so he realizes how much he misses me."

"you're a menace," loony says in a complete deadpan. "and also insane -- are you hearing yourself talk right now? call him."

"so what i'm thinking is," clown says, breezing right past loony's very good advice, "the ideal rebound has gotta be some guy from one of those toxic codependency deathgame duos, right? everyone loves them, they always have great thematic significance or whatever the hell, and they'll be good enough at pvp to hold their own but bad enough that i could take them in a fight, easy. that? that's some trophy boyfriend material right there."

"i'm not hooking you up with legs, dude."

"who?" clown looks genuinely confused for a second, and then shakes his head and moves on. "no, man, i already have a date lined up. he seems like a great guy. he's a builder, he even likes running scams, he's famous for the deathgame thing."

loony sighs again, though it's more at his malfunctioning redstone than out of actually caring what clown is saying. "what poor man are you dragging into your nonsense rebound scheme this time?"

"his name is goodtimeswithscar," clownpierce says proudly. "he's a terraformer."

...loony blinks. "come again?"

"you heard me. i have a date lined up with scar, like from that whole desert duet thing everyone was going wild about a couple years ago?"

it actually takes loony several seconds to realize the reason his chest hurts is because he's laughing so hard he can't breathe. "you? you're going on a date with scar? you are boned, clown! there is not a snowball's chance in the nether that is ever going to work out!"

clown crosses his arms. "listen, you don't have to get salty with me just because i pulled a hermit."

"oh, yeah, i'm salty, sure." loony tries and fails to wipe the tears from his eyes. "dude, i'm just saying, i'm pretty sure only one of you eats people, and in my experience that's usually a dealbreaker?"

"being a killer clown doesn't make me a cannibal, loony," clown huffs.

thunder rumbles in the distance, and loony perks up his head at the sound of rain. "oh, wow, would you look at that, it's storming! guess i'd better go collect some more mob heads before it passes." he sweeps the rest of his redstone supplies into a shulker hastily, swapping into his elytra and grabbing a few rockets. "good luck on your date or whatever!"

"loony, i do not eat people-" clown starts.

"-yeah definitely what i was talking about good luck on your date bye!" loony yells from the skies, having already taken off for his guardian farm.

.......................

two weeks later, clownpierce is back in the redstone lab, looking very huffy and somewhat like a wild animal has gotten to his clothes.

loony grins at him. "how'd it go?"

clown crosses his arms. "you forgot to warn me about the convex on purpose."

loony snorts. "i did say only one of you eats people. it's not my fault you're self-centered enough to think i was talking about you."

"yeah, yeah, you worded that misleadingly on purpose and we both know it. and you call me a menace."

"i do, because you keep breaking into my hardcore world with insane rebound ideas instead of just calling branzy. speaking of which, now are you going to give up on your weird schemes and just text him?"

clown grins, arms still crossed. "nah. we're going on a second date tonight."

"you are a lost cause, dude."

yeah. anyway vote clownscar.

CLOWNSCAR FIC PROPAGANDA!!!!!

[bitchin-beskar]

The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Again, no smut in this chapter, we've still gotta set up the premise before we get to the fun sexy times, but I'm anticipating we're likely gonna start seeing smut in Chapter 4! There are mentions of domestic abuse that happened in chapter 1 between reader and her ex (not Paz!) but no actual abuse takes place in this chapter. JUST A REMINDER, THE MAIN THEME OF THIS STORY IS FREE USE! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: hehe, as promised here is chapter 2!!! we've got some emotional shit going on, along with a bit of worldbuilding. I will definitely be expanding on the worldbuilding as the story progresses, but just be aware, I will not be taking much from actual canonical lore. You're likely going to recognize some stuff, but I'm playing fast and loose with actual canonical events. So please, don't come yelling at me if it's "not canon." it's an au for a reason guys. anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Waking up the next morning was not an enjoyable experience. Your eyes stung like crazy, and there was a bone-deep aching pain centered around your left eye and cheekbone, and your throat and mouth were unpleasantly dry. As the haze of sleep began to clear from your mind and you slowly became more aware, you remembered why you felt like death warmed over.

Groaning, you scrubbed your hands over your face, cautious of what was surely a black eye at this point, trying to stave off more tears. You didn’t want to cry over Parjai, he didn’t deserve your tears, but your heart wasn’t quite with the program yet. You’d been with him for close to four years, and those feelings didn’t just magically disappear overnight.

Although, you could admit that your love for him had been dwindling in the recent months. Parjai’s jealousy was something you’d always been aware of, but it had only grown worse as the two of you got older. He’d never liked Paz, but you’d always rationalized it away, because you knew there was nothing but friendship between the two of you, and you’d thought that Parjai trusted you on that, but clearly not. There had been fights happening more and more, often instigated by Parjai. Coming home late, unexpected school projects, wanting to grab coffee with friends, everything and anything could trigger his temper, and you’d increasingly felt like you were walking on thin ice around him.

Still, you’d never thought he’d actually hit you.

A knock on the bedroom door brought you out of your musings. You didn’t have long to wait before the handle was turning and the door was creaking open, and Paz was poking his head through the crack. He’d clearly not been up for very long, based on the state of his hair, and it brought a silly little smile to your face. He always looked younger with his hair in disarray.

His eyes were soft when he saw you sitting up in bed, but they quickly hardened when he really looked at your face. He pushed the door open further and strode into the room, coming to stand by the side of the bed. Paz nudged your chin up with a crooked finger, his other hand coming up to gently brush over your cheekbone. You let him study your face for a moment before breaking the silence.

“How bad is it?”

Paz winced, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before opening them again to focus on you. “Could’ve been worse if we hadn’t gotten that ice on you last night. Wanna put a bacta patch on today, though.”

“Ugh, no I don’t need bacta, Paz. You know I hate the smell.”

He fixed you with a stern look, concern hidden behind the fond annoyance in those dark eyes of his. “This isn’t up for debate. You wanna go to class with a black eye?”

You sighed. He was right, you really didn’t want to go to class with a black eye, but truthfully, you thought you probably should. The look Paz gave you when you voiced that thought made it clear that you needed to elaborate.

“I don’t want Parjai to be able to say it wasn’t a big deal, or that he didn’t hit me that hard.”

Paz fell quiet at that, growing contemplative as he took a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. His gaze was focused downward, and he appeared to be deep in thought. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands that was resting beside him on the duvet. He didn’t look up until you’d wrapped both of your hands around his much larger one, fingers gently pressing into the meat of his palm.

The look on his face made you pause, the words dying in your throat. You’d never really seen Paz look so lost, not even when he told you his father-and Paz too, by technicalities of him being a minor at the time-had officially been stripped of the Clan Vizsla Name.

“You know what he’s gonna tell people, right?”

It took you a moment to register what he was saying, but when you did, a fury filled you unlike anything you’d felt before. Parjai was excactly the kind of man to go around spreading lies that Paz had been the one to hit you, and considering his standing in Clan Priest, he had a higher chance of being believed over Paz.

However, your clan wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Clan Prudii, while not being nearly as powerful as Clan Vizsla or nearly as influential as Clan Priest, was still a clan in good standing, well-respected and well-liked. Clan Vizsla and Clan Priest were both memebers of the Founding Clans, the ones who’d settled Mandalore in the first place. Clan Prudii was a newer clan, having formed a few centuries after the Founding of Mandalore. But Clan Prudii had always held good-standing, with a solid history of being teachers and doctors. It had been a long time since anyone in your family had married into a clan with higher-standing, and no one had married into a Founding Clan before. So naturally, it had been no secret that your parents were extremely pleased with the match between you and Parjai, because it would’ve elevated Clan Prudii to Noble Clan status, the level just below Founding Clan status. It was something your parents had dreamed of for years.

This dream had meant that you’d had to listen to many of your mother’s rants about how you were destined to drag the clan name down with you, associating with Paz the way that you had been. Those rants had only stopped once you’d began to date Parjai.

While Paz still carried the Vizsla name, his status was rather… shaky, when it came to clan politics. His father, Pre, and his grandfather, Tor, had been disowned by his great-great grandfather for their crimes as members of Death Watch, and had been stripped of the clan Name. Because Paz had been a minor at the time of the exile, he’d been allowed to keep the Clan Name on a technicality. However, because he’d been in the sole care of his father, Pre, due to his mother Tal dying years earlier, he’d been subject to the same rules as any other Nameless, the Naasade. Unless the head of Clan Vizsla took Paz back into the Clan, which hadn’t happened yet, he was shunned the same as if he’d been exiled too.

It was something Paz was exceedingly self-conscious about. At one point, you’d offered to help him draft a letter to the Clan Head to try and see if he could rejoin the Clan, only to discover that after his great-great grandfather had died, no one knew who the Clan Head actually was. Or if they did, they weren’t willing to tell Paz.

Because of the whole mess with his Clan, Paz often had to fight tooth and nail to be recognized as a Named Mandalorian. There were many who were all too happy to try and deny him access to basic things like healthcare or education based on his father’s crimes and status, and he’d fought viciously for every right he had. It had gotten better when he joined the Mudhorns, and people were talking about Paz Vizsla, the star goalie, instead of Paz Vizsla, Son of the Nameless. But there were those who still didn’t think he deserved to be on the team, or even attending the university.

But if Parjai went around saying that Paz had been the one to hit you? Well, that could cause a lot of trouble for Paz, potentially even getting him expelled. There are those who would have a far easier time believing the treasured son of Clan Priest over the maybe-disgraced son of Clan Vizsla.

So, you needed to get out there and set the record straight, before Parjai had the chance to start weaving his web of lies. The Prudii Clan were known for their honesty and frankness, and if you could get enough people believing your side of things before Parjai, then maybe the fallout for Paz wouldn’t be too bad.

Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to knock Parjai down a peg or two. He’d always been a bit arrogant, but looking back on his actions as of late, now that your affection for him was fast fading, he’d defintely stepped over the line of arrogance and straight into insufferability. He’d have a hard time finding a new girl if they knew there was a possibility he could hit them like he’d hit you.

“I’m not gonna let him tell lies about my best friend, Paz. You don’t deserve that.” You made sure he was looking at you before you continued. “Besides, he doesn’t have class today, so if I’m wanting to set the record straight, today is the best day to do it.”

Paz could clearly see that you weren’t gonna let this go. He sighed deeply, running his free hand through the fluffy mass of his hair.

“Okay, but I’m talkin’ to the team. You don’t go anywhere on campus without one of us escorting you, got it? I’m not taking any chances in case that di’kut talked to his little friends. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt even more.”

You could tell by the look on his face that Paz was deathly serious. It looked like you were gonna be spending the forseeable future with bodyguards following your every move. Normally, you’d protest such a treatment, insist that you could take care of yourself, but just the thought of running into Parjai sent shivers down your spine, so you figured you could allow Paz this indulgence for awhile.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood and moved to stand in between Paz’s legs, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you looked at him. He sat there, a confused quirk in his brow, but a small smile playing on his lips at the determined look on your face.

You took another step forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing your chest against his as you hugged him tightly. You tucked your face against his neck and squeezed, hands twisting in the soft fabric of his shirt. His own arms wrapped around your waist with zero hesitation, thick bands of corded muscle keeping you centered and pressed as close as physically possible. His own face was buried in your neck, you could feel his lashes fluttering against you. And when he spoke, his lips brushed over your skin, his warm breath sending a rush of heat through you.

“What’s this for, then?”

Somehow, you squeezed him even tighter, as if you could convey every unspoken word from the near two decades of frienship into this one hug. He held you tighter too, his actions a direct contrast to his blasé tone of voice.

“‘s a thank you, Paz,” you muttered, your own lips pressed to his sleep-warm skin. “Jus’ shuddup an’ let me hug you.”

A shudder ran through his body, and you could feel his hands trembling from where they were pressed against you.

“Yes ma’am.”

****

Practically as soon as you set foot on campus, you were immediately accosted by Mir’a. You’d barely climed out of Paz’s truck before she was beelining across the parking lot. She’d begun speaking before she even really looked at you, apologies spilling from her lips about leaving you alone at the party, but when she finally focused on your face, a horrified gasp escaped, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh my stars, what happened?” She was immediately reaching for your cheeks, gently turning your head this way and that. Her eyes were wide and worried as she scanned the rest of your body for any other injuries. “Did this happen at the party? Oh Maker, I shouldn’t have left, I’m so sorry!”

“Mir’ika, I’m fine,” you reassured her, gripping her wrists and pulling her hands down from your face. You could hear Paz getting out of the truck and coming over to stand behind you. “Well, I’m fine now.”

“But what happened?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. “Parjai hit me.”

“WHAT?!”

You winced slightly at the volume of her yell, seeing other students out of the corner of your eye turning to look at the two of you. Mir’a’s eyes were wide for a whole other reason now, and you could see fury dawning on her face. Mir’a was not someone you wanted to cross, and her temper was legendary on campus.

“Girl, if you don’t explain-”

“I picked her up from that party cause kriffing Priest wasn’t answering his phone, and when we got to their place, he smacked her across the face.”

Paz had come to stand directly behind you, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to help ground you. The anger in his voice was palpable, you could practically feel it radiating off of him.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she growled, clenching her fists. “Please tell me you broke up with his sorry shebs, he does not deserve you, especially after-”

“Mir’a, breathe.” She took a few deep, sarcastically exaggerated breaths, her furious gaze still trained on you. “Paz may have knocked him out before I could actually break it off, but yes, he and I are done. But I need something from you.”

“Anything.”

See, Mir’a Wren was a lot of things, some good and some bad, but a notorious gossip was probably the thing she was most known for. She was good at picking out what was important to spread around and what was just useless information, and when she put her mind to it, she could spread information faster than a viral holovid.

“I need you to make sure people know that Parjai’s the one who hit me. Paz was the one who’d taken me home, and-”

“Oh, I know exactly how he gets whenever Paz’s name gets brought up-no offense, big guy.”

“None taken.”

Mir’a paused, and really looked at you for a second. “Do you really think he’d try and lie about it?”

Maybe once you would’ve hesitated, but you didn’t need to, not about this, not now. “Yes. I absolutely think he will, and Paz doesn’t deserve that.”

His hand trailed from the small of your back to your hip, squeezing slightly at your defense of him. You turned your face up to look at Paz, missing the knowing grin that spread over Mir’a’s face as you did so. He was looking at you with an exceedingly soft look on his face, and it made your heart melt a little bit.

“Alright, you can count on me. I’m not gonna let that mudscuffer go around spreading lies. I’ll keep you updated.”

In any other instance, you’d be scared of the slightly manic look on Mir’a’s face. But now, it just fueled the dark pleasure unfurling in your gut. She quickly pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek before she was flouncing off, out to spread a reign of terror-for Parjai at least.

You made to go and follow her, but Paz’s grip on your hip stopped you.

“Hold up for a second, bunny.”

You turned, hoping your face didn’t show how Paz’s new little nickname made the butterflies in your belly swirl. He waited to make sure you weren’t going anywhere, before setting his duffel bag on the ground and digging through it. You were about to ask him what he was doing when he pulled a wad of fabric out triumphantly. He stood again and held it out to you.

“You better not be handing me your dirty laundry, Vizsla.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I swear it’s clean. Put it on.”

You unfolded the wad of fabric, mouth opening slightly as you realized it was Paz’s hockey sweatshirt. His name was emblazzoned on the back, his number prominent underneath it. The Mudhorn’s logo was centered on the front. It was clearly well-loved, some of the colors having faded a bit, but it was so soft. You didn’t hesitate. Dropping your own bag on the ground, you pulled the hoodie on over your head, sticking your arms through the too-long sleeves and letting the hem fall to hit you mid-thigh. You were swimming in the fabric, but you loved it. It felt a little bit like having Paz’s arms around you, and his cologne was practically woven into the fabric, so it even smelled like him.

As you settled the fabric on your body, you didn’t see the way Paz swallowed harshly at seeing you once more in his clothes. It’d been a long time since you’d worn any of his hockey gear, but the darkly primal part of him purred happily at seeing you dressed in his hockey hoodie, with his name and number on your back. He had to shove that dark possessiveness back down, and focus once more on your face when you finally looked back up at him.

“I can’t be with you for all of today, so Din’s gonna grab lunch with you, and hang with you until I’m finished and can take you home, alright?”

A part of you wanted to argue, say that you didn’t need a babysitter, but you remembered the way Paz had looked this morning, and you sighed, nodding. He pulled you in for a hug, and you went easily, arms wrapping around his waist as he held you close for a few precious moments.

“Alright bunny, let’s get you to class.”

****

For the most part, your day is completely normal. Except for practically everyone asking you about the black eye, that is.

Every time, you give variations of the same answer. Yes, Parjai as in your boyfriend Parjai. No, you’re not with him anymore. Yes, you’re doing alright, but you’d really like to stop talking about this, please and thank you.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re exhausted. If you hadn’t been so adamant about coming in and making sure people heard your account of things, you’d have texted Paz a while ago and told him you were going back to his place to nap. Din’s waiting for you outside of your Galactic Republic History course, and the two of you walk in relative quiet to the nearest dining hall. Din’s the first person not to ask about the black eye, but you also figure that Paz probably already told him.

The two of you grab lunch and a table in the back corner, away from all the hustle and bustle, hoping that people will leave the two of you alone. It seems to work, and the two of you eat in a companionable silence. Somehow, Din seems to know that you’re absolutely done with talking today, and he’s content to just be a silent pillar of support, something you didn’t realize you were desperately missing.

Lunch is almost finished when you see that you’ve got an email from the admissions office. You open it, confused as to why you’re getting an email this close to the start of the quarter. All it says is that your presence is requested as soon as possible in the admissions office, and that they will provide a note to any classes you may be missing to attend this meeting.

Looking up, Din’s got an eyebrow raised in question at you, so wordlessly you shove your phone at him. He reads the email quickly, before simply shrugging and standing up, gathering up the trash from your meals. You give him a soft thanks before standing too, and the two of you make your way out of the dining hall and towards the main building, where all the administrative offices are.

The admissions office is easy to find, and when Din and you enter, it’s clear that the two of you are the only students here. The office is quiet, soft music playing overhead as a Twi’lek types away at the computer at the only occupied desk. She doesn’t even look up, merely gesturing for you to come over with the crook of one finger. The nameplate on her desk reads: Bondara.

“What brings you in today?”

You look at Din, who only shrugs helplessly. “Uh, I recieved an email?”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm, last name?”

“Prudii.”

“Ah, yes! Just a small matter, nothing to worry about. You just need to pay tuition for this quarter.”

A frown forms on your face. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I have direct withdrawls set up, it should’ve already been taken out of my account?”

Still, she doesn’t look at you, typing away at whatever-the-kriff is on her screen. “It didn’t go through, so we’re gonna need you to try again, hun.”

Sighing, you mouth “sorry,” at Din, before pulling out your phone to look up your banking app. You’re not quite sure why you had to skip class for this today, but oh well. The screen loads slowly, but when it’s finally fully loaded, you feel your heart fucking drop into your stomach. You frantically tap the refresh button, hoping it’s just some kind of stupid glitch on your app. But when the screen loads the exact same data as before, you sink into the stupidly plush chairs set out in front of the admissions desk.

It’s empty. Your tuition account, that should have close to 7,000 credits, is completely, utterly, empty.

[tideswept]

First post of 2024, let's go!

First off! I'll be picking up my goal of 100 books a year again and will post a tracker next, feel free to join in and/or give recommendations as the year progresses. ❤ I'm a voracious but lazy reader, so I don't venture outside of my usual circle of authors as often as I should, which is actually the point of the tracker!

Secondly, I want to show off the podfic @sweet-cynic did of stubborn in the bones and the delicious Padobi/Masterkin @ossidae-passeridae wrote for silly ol' me. 💕

stubborn in the bones (podfic)

surrender | be moved and shaken

Yessss, yesss, look at the pretty, look at it!

Third, and really what you're interested in--State of Fic Updates and Previews!

ACTIVE WIPS:

[Hartwin] a tender gasp of inevitable ache ch2: 3k in, rough outline written out. Guesstimating something like 6k for this one.

Then Merlin pipes up.  “God, I thought you two couldn’t get more obnoxious.” Neither of them starts. Kingsman trained them too well for that. But Eggsy’s fingers curl around the stem of his fork before relaxing. Since there’s no data being fed into his glasses, he assumes this is an informal check-in.  He places another forkful of tender, exquisite salmon on his tongue, closing his lips around the tines and dragging the fork out without breaking eye contact with Harry. This might be mainly to yank Merlin’s tail, but he can’t deny that Harry watching him make a slaggy spectacle of himself ignites a forbidden, heady thrill. It’s better than the cock of a well-oiled gun—better even than firing off a snazzy one-liner when taking out bad guys.

[Hartwin] always be something sacred ch3: 1.6k in, some thorny things to work out. Might be a split POV chapter, might also end up being 5 chapters total after all, we'll see!

“Opinion on a blockade?” Harry asks, shrugging off his jumper, heading for the hidden armory beneath the staircase. He’d long ago bought and hollowed out the neighboring houses that bracketed his own for security and usage—pressing his palm against the wooden panel reveals a hidden entrance.  It’s amazing that Eggsy, despite all his rightful suspicions and cleverness, has never figured this secret out. He would have loved it. There’s no need for Harry to close his eyes and imagine that boy’s delight, he knows the exact grin that Eggsy would flash, his choked, skeptical laughter, his glee. How carefully Harry would have to watch his hands to ensure that Eggsy didn’t pocket anything.  Pain digs sharp claws behind his breastbone. He ignores it. Regret can come later, after Eggsy isn’t at the mercy of an unknown enemy. 

[Obikin] Untitled -- Alpha!PadObi/Beta!Masterkin: smutty irredeemable oneshot, ahoy!

Obi-Wan groans again. He stumbles onto his sleeping bag and lies there, gritting his teeth. Through their bond, Anakin experiences an echo of the pure need threatening to drag the nineteen-year-old into a feral state.  Or that will kill him.  Anakin swears in Huttese. If he were better at mind suggestions or at meditation, if he could karking heal, he could help. If he were an alpha, he could superimpose his will and force Obi-Wan to calm down. And if he were an omega… Well. Anakin didn’t successfully see one Padawan through an intergalactic war only to lose his second Padawan to something as ridiculous as this.

[Obikin] Untitled2: another irredeemable smutty oneshot, yay!

“Are you sure that you’re alright, Anakin?” Obi-wan asks for the third time, exasperated to the point where no matter what Anakin claims, he’s going to stop their walk and examine Anakin from head to toe. But instead of lying again, Anakin, who has been making the strangest noises as they pushed through the wildly lush jungle that covers the planet, groans piteously and stops so suddenly that Obi-Wan almost runs into him.  “Anakin?”  “I’m—kark, don’t make me say it.”  Since Anakin stubbornly refuses to face him, Obi-Wan circles around to find Anakin flushed and sweaty, his lips torn from biting down.

[Obikin] Untitled3: probably still irredeemable but not actually smutty! for @sweet-cynic, a bit of a... TMA-SW fusion AU? (featuring Priest-Wan because we could always use more of that.)

The day Obi-Wan Kenobi stumbles over the bedraggled figure curled up tight at a corner of the stairs leading up to the church is already one of exhaustion and fury drowned in alcohol. He is in no charitable mood, but discovering a small child wedged tight against the stonework in the middle of the night, with the chill of an early winter creeping in, horrifies him into action. Are they dead? Obi-Wan wonders, leaning down carefully. Wrapped up in misery and in shapeless, grimy garments, the child is nothing but a genderless mop of blond hair and too-pink ears peeking out from the collar of the jacket they’re wearing, some cast off business jacket for an adult repurposed for warmth against the bitterness of October.  He clears his throat. “He—” Blue eyes snap open.  Too blue, too bright, there’s not enough light that I should be able to see the color. But Obi-Wan doesn’t pay that thought as much attention as it deserves. “Hello there. That doesn’t seem terribly comfortable." The poor creature—Obi-Wan still cannot pinpoint a gender, the face dark with dirt—shifts away from him, inching to regain space as if they don’t trust him despite the markers of his office, the collar, the coat, the cross weighing heavy on his chest.

NEXT UP:

airline Obikin shenanigans for @virahaus

even more shenanigans set in bones of a miracle for @gretchenzellerbarnes

A coda for all things unsaid

I'm hoping Untitled2 will be finished today, but we'll see. :) After some of these go up I will finally get back to working on fear the crown and the devil is a gentleman. They're long overdue for updates. (Also have my eye on you should see what we do in my head--definitely want to finish that this month.)

And that concludes the State of Fic! ❤ If I have forgotten anyone or any thing or you have a question about a fic not mentioned, please give me a poke.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 33

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy!

Welcome to the Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec list. This is two weeks worth of reading, but still fairly short. Animal Crossing had me in a chokehold lol.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Fic Recs Below!

The only time we have

Din/Poe one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Summary: Is taking care of physical needs all Din and Poe doing? All they're capable of? Only the darkness and walls know.

Tags: anal sex, cum worship, body worship, rough sex, semi-public sex, cockwarming

do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

Frankie/Santi series by moonknightly (AO3)

Summary: "Neither of you want the night to end. That’s the only reason it takes you ten minutes to put your clothes back on and the only reason he offers to share his tequila after he’s gotten you out of them."

Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Post-Break Up, Angst, Smut, Cuckolding, sloppy blowjobs, Dom/sub, Threesome - F/M/M, Spanking, Pain Kink, Choking, You're mostly fucking Santi here

Down the Rabbit-Hole

Jack series by @absurdthirst and @wardenparker

Summary: When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Tags: mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing, Canon typical violence, Death, gun use, angst, Jack has a temper and Tequila has a dumb first name, Making Out, a bit of groping, heavy flirting, sexy shower time, a whole truck load of anger, Fisticuffs, a bunch of angry people being upset with each other, Kidnapping, Torture, burning victim with cigarettes, Broken Bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection, oral sex (f and m receiving), Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cream Pie, Cum Play, Anxiety, Accidental Hurt, panic attack (symptoms based on my own personal experiences), intrusive/racing thoughts, physical symptoms of anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Guilt, Possible Unwanted Pregnancy, Lies, Nausea/Illness, Talk of Abortion, canon typical injuries, Family Planning, Mentions of Sex Toys, Lingerie, Spanking, rough sex, Flirty and somewhat explicit banter, Pregnancy, Discussion of symptoms, Mood Swings, cemetery/deceased loved ones, speaking to deceased loved ones

Are You Alright, Honey?

Javi G one shot by @javigutierrez

Summary: You’re going on a long weekend with your gorgeous new boyfriend, and after a day of unresolved sexual tension out on a roadtrip you’re ready to jump him the second you get home. Unless he finds a movie at the gas station he had been looking for for years and he wants to watch it with you. Will you be able to mask your desire for him, to enjoy a movie that means so much to him? *(Spoiler alert no you won’t)*

Tags: fluffffff, freshly established relationship, pining like *whoa,* very explicit smut, f!oral, f!fingering, *tons* of nipple play, non-penetrative sex (sumata ig?), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, allusions to squirting, pleasure dom!Javi vibes, tw alcohol, tw food mention, Javi is a *major* dumb of ass but he makes up for it, reader has female genitalia, some boobs, and long enough hair to tuck it behind their ear but no other descriptions (let me know if you find anything else!), no age references

Come here often?

Javi P one shot by @dancingtotuyo

Summary: fucking men in bathrooms of dirty bars isn’t your usual cup of tea, but sometimes you make exceptions.

Tags: strangers, alcohol consumption, sex (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it up), mirror sex, dirty bathroom, rough sex, mentions of bruising, hair pulling (reader has hair long enough to pull), degradation, 1 slap on the ass, Javi is a menace, Javi touches reader in flirtatious ways without consent, hints of exhibitionism, use of “good girl”, dirty talk, aftercare, soft! Javi at the end. Let me know if I missed anything.

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Javi P series by @whatsnewalycat

Summary: In 1993, you met Javier Peña in San Antonio. You made an emotional and physical connection with him. Now it’s 1998 and you’re starting a new chapter of life in Laredo with your fiancé. And who else walks back into the picture, but the man who left you high and dry five years ago.

Tags: alcohol use, Binge Drinking, Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Cigarettes, Voyeurism, Smut, Bisexual main character, Touch-Starved, Female Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Flirting, Mutual Pining, Cheating, Infidelity, Sexual Tension, Attempt at Humor, Soft Javier Peña, Movie Nerd Shit, use of daddy in a sexual context, Vulnerable Javier Peña, Angst and Feels, Family Issues, Mostly Post Season 3, Existential Crisis, Banter, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, friends to lovers to friends to lovers, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Humor, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, No beta idk I just got here, Fluff and Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Impact Play, Pain Kink, Domestic Violence, Praise Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, Breeding Kink, Blood and Violence, Mild Gore, Kidnapping

Online Friends

Joel series by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Summary: hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (aka: anonymous sex chatting with joel) -- and then all the stuff that comes after

Tags: dom!joel and sub!reader, heavy dirty talk, degrading language, joel is a little mean but like in a sexy way, use of 'daddy' like twice, talk of p in v penetration, mutual masturbation, fingering, pillow humping, sex toys, sending nudes, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, exhibitionism, public play, a bit of bondage, semi-public, some face slapping (in a consensual, sexual context)

Put it in, coach

Joel one shot by @magpiepills

Summary: you are an 18 year old high school senior on the cheerleading team, and Joel is the beloved and successful football coach. He helps you with some stretching after practice.

Tags: SMUT!! This is just porn. The girthiest age gap (18 & 56), consensual but extremely unethical sexual relationship, pervert Joel, power imbalance, dubcon (due to said power imbalance) but I assure you reader is of legal age and enthusiastically consents! Unprotected piv, oral (m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, innocent reader, spanking, minor pussy slapping, blackmail, creampie, twist ending, possibly dark Joel. Could be more, I don’t remember. No use of y/n, no physical description of reader, This is a good example of things that are GOOD in FICTION and BAD in REALITY.

Lovesick

Joel one shot by @prolix-yuy

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long.

Tags: descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use, no actual smut

One Night

Marcus P one shot by @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: You get one night with Marcus Pike.

Tags: Implied/referenced smut but nothing is explicitly described. Smoking and alcohol. Angst because they only have one night together. Marcus is a flirty menace. House party nostalgia. Heavy petting in a stairwell

I'd also just like to call out some fics I've been reading for a long time that finished up recently and that I loved: Psychomanteum - Dieter Series by @whatsnewalycat and Whistle in the Dark - Joel series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles.

My most recent fics ( I have not been writing much lol)

Ravage - Ezra x f!Reader - saltburn AU, vampire scene

Only Good Girls - Dave x f!reader - D/s, punishment, mirror sex

Happy Reading!

[freddieslater]

If you are still doing your “make me write” thing, I am very intrigued by “mind-dive” (TVD) and “Vampires in Vegas” (TVD) 👀

Absolutely, I'm accepting requests for any fic on that list until I have completed all of them because clearly I need the motivation lmao

Mind-Dive

"What was it like?" Enzo asked, breaking the unsettling silence that had fallen over their cells. "Your life before all of this."

"Before I got brought here?"

"No. Your human life."

Damon blew out a deep breath. He rolled over, wincing as his left arm continued to ache. His collarbone and fingers hadn't yet fully healed from all the slicing, and he wasn't even sure if his supernatural healing extended to regrowing whole pieces of bone.

He stared at the dark, damp ceiling. If he squinted, it could almost be a deep chestnut brown, like the high ceiling of his old bedroom. The floor could not be further from the comfort of his old bed.

"It was nothing special," he said after a moment.

Enzo made a noise. "Well, that's incredibly fascinating, thank you for that delightful nugget of information."

Damon rolled his eyes. "It was the 1800s. You were there."

"Yes, but the difference is that I spent my entire life on the streets of miserable London. Unless I have completely misplaced that accent of yours or you're very good at impressions, I doubt you had the same experience."

He had him there. Damon shifted slightly and regretted it again. He heaved a sigh and rolled onto his side, facing the small gap between their cells. He found Enzo already staring back at him, arm tucked under his head.

"I grew up in Virginia," he said. "My family had an Estate."

Vampires in Vegas

"Okay, so, there might have been a teeny, tiny problem with the booking," Caroline says.

"So, fix it," Damon says.

She does that thing with her face. The look that means what's about to come out of her mouth isn't going to be something he wants to hear.

Sure enough: "I sort of can't. I tried! I went to the front desk and I tried to compel the man but it didn't work!"

"That checks out," Stefan sighs. He shrugs when Damon glances at him. "Come on, it's Vegas. Nobody knows what they're ingesting in a place like this. There's probably vervain everywhere."

That worries him less than the idea that they're surrounded by unknown supernatural beings. He casts another quick look around him doubtfully, his skin itching uncomfortably more than usual.

Bonnie shrugs. "Well, then we'll just have to double up if we can't get another room. Caroline, Elena and I can all take a room." She flashes them both a grin that gets returned as she adds: "It'll be like a sleepover."

"Nope." Damon shakes his head. "Mhm. I'm not sharing with dumb, dumber and dumbest. Especially not him, he snores."

Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Are you ever not a dick?"

"It's fine," Stefan says, ever the peacekeeper. "Jeremy, Tyler and Matt can go in the room with the double and the bunk beds."

"As much as I don't hate you, Stef, I don't want to share a room with you," Damon tells him. "So, why don't you join the children in their room and then Enzo and I can take the last room. We practically shared a cell for five years, might as well share a room."

"Hold on," Jeremy chimes back in, gesturing at him, "why does he get to share with his boyfriend when we're all stuck in separate rooms? What if I wanted to stay with Bonnie? Wouldn't it make more sense to pair up that way?"

Damon rolls his eyes, just barely resisting the urge to groan again. He's already tired of this discussion. Tuning out as the group breaks into overlapping protests and suggestions, he breaks away entirely, motioning Enzo with him. They wind through the crowd toward the elevators and head up to find their room.

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xvi}

the previous chapter was the appetizer~ now, for the main dish

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Additionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warnings: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION IS IN THE ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 15 is the moment Chapter 16 is the icon

word count: 3.2k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Clare *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know YET (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

After Court gathers your stuff and helps you with your shorts, he strips off his jacket and drapes it on your shoulders. "I'm just gonna tie them up, so they aren't walking free in the morning." he shortly clutches your shoulder, "Wait here, okay?"

You nod. "Okay.."

As you double-check your things, Court is tying up the unconscious thugs to a tree— rephrase: tightly tying them up. Not too tight to cut off circulation, but tight enough that it hurts and possibly cut off circulation if not untied after 12 hours.

Court was (still is) holding back. When he heard your muffled cries, he was seething. And when he saw the state you were in, there was only red in his vision. He badly wanted to kill them, but he quickly thought that death wasn't the punishment they deserved. Plus, it would attract too much attention.

Despite pulling his punches, Court struck the thugs hard enough for fractures.

"If I wanted to break all the bones in your bodies," he glances at the unconscious thugs, "I would've."

As he triples the knot, he looks over to you. You're fiddling with the contents in your bag while leaning on a tree. Court notices that you've donned his jacket, which looks like a very short dress on you. 

A fluttering feeling spreads across his chest and up his throat.

It's that dangerous feeling again. Much more dangerous than when he was livid. This will only worsen if he ignores it, so he decides to contemplate something else.

While securing the thugs' bounds, Court sneaks glances at you every five seconds. The horrific events took place no less than 10 minutes ago, yet somehow you appear to be standing strong and unaffected. He always suspects you're more strong-willed than most. However, Court cannot truly fathom the extent of the trauma you experienced.

It's something anyone shouldn't ever experience. No matter the gender or what kind of person they are.

Court deeply breathes in and out, dousing the anger boiling in his stomach. He steps back, admires his handiwork, and nods to himself. He heads back to you and he notices a light on the ground. It's a phone. He picks it up, thinking it's yours, and swipes at the screen. After two messy photos, he almost crushes the phone upon seeing a picture of you straddled to the ground with your shorts being pulled down.

He knows there are more photos, but he doesn't need to look at them or else he won't be able to leave without snapping all their necks.

You watch Court walking back with angry strides. Even though he's wearing a cap and there's not much light around, you know he has a scary face on.

"Hey," you say with a small smile, in an attempt to calm him.

"Hey.." he replies with a sigh, glancing at the phone in his hand. "They, uh.. they took pictures."

It takes all your might not to break down again. "Yeah.. yeah, I figured. I mean, I saw flashes," you chuckle awkwardly and gesture for the phone.

He reluctantly hands it to you. "You can delete them."

"And destroy evidence that they did this to me? I think not," you huff. "I hope it's enough to land them in jail. I don't want to do any trial of sorts."

"You're probably going to have to, though."

"And get you and Kiara involved? No way."

He sighs, exasperated and amused. "You were just—" he tightens his jaw, "Take care of yourself first before you start taking care of others."

You heave a brow at him. "I know I said you have a savior pass, but don't you dare lecture me right now." you declare chidingly and give his shoulder a shove. "Now, let's go.. there's a police station nearby."

Court frowns. "How near?"

"A minute or two by car? And probably less than a 10-minute walk." you furtively observe the reluctance flashing across his face. "I  mean.. you don't have to come with me. Just take me to my bike and—"

"No, I'll take you. Let's go."

"Where's Kiara, by the— ah!— Shit!"

You've only taken one and a half steps when your left ankle screams and decides not to fully function. Court is quick to catch you, and you feel a flare of shame on your cheeks, heating up with another emotion-that-should-not-be-named.

"Where does it hurt?" he asks, assessing your lower extremities.

You groan. "Left ankle. I think it's sprained."

"Let me take a look. Lean on the tree."

"Yeah, sure."

Court descends to a half-kneel and carefully rolls your sock down. He then uses his phone's flashlight to help his inspection. You glance at the thugs, still unconscious, and then you glance around, still no people. But the rain is slowly letting up.

"Maybe it's not a sprain— maybe I can walk it off, you know?" you shortly laugh, "It's my fault for just standing here and not stretching."

"It's sprained," says Court.

"Fuck." you say through gritted teeth, "Are you sure?"

"As sure as it is swelling."

You look down. "Damn, no wonder it kept twinging. I thought I could shake it off."

Court powers off the flashlight, pockets his phone, and rolls your sock up before he stands. "I have a compression bandage in the car. Here," he slightly squats down, "put your arm on my shoulder."

"Okay.. but shouldn't you be at my left side— woah, woah!" you yelp when he suddenly hoists you up in his arms. "Kurt, what are you doing?!"

"Preventing unwanted pressure off your ankle and keeping it elevated," he answers diligently, as though reciting in class, and starts walking out of the park.

You stammer. "I know first aid. I meant, why are you carrying me?"

He blinks at you. "I just told you why."

"I can walk."

"You tried."

"Stop arguing with me."

"That's my line."

"Why are you being stubborn?!"

"Why are you?"

Court's SUV is parked near where your motorcycle has fallen. Except its now up on its two-wheels and parked by the curb.

The driver's window rolls down and Claire's horrified face appears. "Oh my God, (N/N)!" she exclaims and climbs out of the car.

"Kiara? Seriously, what are you two still doing around these parts?" you question, glancing at the father-daughter duo.

"I told you, I'll tell you later." Court says, "You're safe, but not so sound. Health comes first."

Before you can protest, Claire opens the backseat door and Court carefully carries you in the car. "Get the first-aid," he tells the teen.

"Aye-aye!" Claire rounds the car, hops in the passenger side, and reels out a kit from under the seat.

"Scoot over," Court says to you.

"No." you say firmly.

He glares at you, and you glare back.

"Why are you two fighting?" Claire asks, amused.

"We're not. He's just picking a fight." you answer, scooting back.

He snorts. "Says the pigheaded." and climbs in the backseat.

"Who are you calling pigheaded?!"

"You, of course!"

Claire giggles. "Are you two just fighting to avoid saying what you're really feeling?"

You and Court look at her as though her eyes combined into one. "What?" the two of you chorus, "No."

"Jinx!" Claire chirps, laughing.

She opens the light and hands the first-aid kit to Court. He then starts bandaging your swelling ankle while you open up your phone's camera. It doesn't surprise you to see your beaten up reflection. Because honestly, you've been thinking you looked worse.

You have small cuts here and there; bruised right temple and left cheek; and dried blood caking beneath your nose.

Claire pops open a water bottle, carefully dampening a towel, which she gives you.

"Thank you," you smile, immediately wincing when your face twinges.

"Let me help," Claire unpacks the disinfectant spray and band-aids.

"It's alright—"

"No, (N/N)," Claire says solemnly, "None of this is alright."

You're momentarily shocked. This is the first time you've seen Claire immensely serious. Yet it makes you smile, and this time, you don't feel any twinge.

"Thank you, Kiara."

She blushes. "Y-You're welcome— but you don't have to thank me! I'm helping because I care about you, so it's only natural, you know.."

You feel a sting in your eyes and turn away, pretending to be eyeing the scrapes on your knees. In your peripheral, you spot Court staring at you discreetly. You've already cried in front of him, you don't want that to happen twice, let alone in front of Claire as well.

You've worried them enough.

"That's why I'm thanking you," you chuckle, turning back to her. "Because that's the only way I can repay you right now."

She hums. "How about a movie marathon on Sunday?"

You laugh. "Deal."

Court looks as though he's about to reprimand Claire, but quickly keeps it to himself. You stifle a smile at that and start checking on your other wounds.

"Why are we stopping here?" you ask as the SUV slows down to a halt one block away from the police station.

"I, uh.." Court trails off.

"Government issues," Claire chimes in, shortly glaring at Court. "Yeah, he's one of those crazed conspiracy theorist."

"I'm not crazy," Court defends.

Claire snorts. "I didn't say you were."

"Wait, is that why you always wear a hat?" you ask amusedly.

"Yes! That's exactly why!" Claire barks out laughing.

With red ears and a displeased frown, Court climbs out the car without another word. You and Claire exchange grins before she carefully crawls to the driver's seat.

Court opens the passenger door. "Don't move," he says when you start scooting towards him.

"Don't worry, it's not aggravated." you nod at my sprained ankle, which I've set atop the other ankle.

Court waits for you at the edge of the seat. And without warning, he hooks his arm under my legs and cradles my back with the other, gently carrying you out of the car. The heat on your face clashes with the cold biting your skin, the battle sends shivers down your spine and you try not to shudder.

"Hey! Don't tell me you'll carry me to the police station like this," you frown at Court.

"How else would I take you there? Want me to roll you?"

"Go ahead, you'll be the one having a hard time."

"Stop arguing with me or I will really roll you across the ground."

"I'm just saying that you can carry me on your back, dummy!"

"Aww, arguing like a newly-wedded couple!" Claire chimes in teasingly.

You and Court snap scowls at her. "Cl— Kiara!" he chides, while you exclaim, "What?!"

A click and a flash resounds across the quiet street. Claire has taken a polariod picture of you and Court. "If I edit this picture, I'll caption it as Brawl Wedding." Claire snickers as she wags the photo towards the two of you.

As if you haven't blushed enough, your neck and face are flaring when Claire said 'wedding'.

Once you're on Court's back, he starts a slow trek to the police station. You keep your hands on his shoulders rather than wrap it around him. He's already too close as it is, and that zesty scent of his isn't helping. You don't even wanna get started about his hands underneath your thighs.

"Is it okay to leave her alone there?" you ask, an attempt to distract yourself from observing him at such proximity.

He shortly glances over at you. "Can you worry more about yourself right now?" he replies in a playful tone, but you know he's scolding you.

You huff. "I'm done worrying about me."

He clicks his tongue. "Well, I'm not."

"And why is that?"

Court doesn't answer right away. "Because…" he stammers and trails off, and for some reason, that makes you blush.

"You and Kiara dot on me too much," you say to break the awkward silence.

Court chuckles. "About Kiara.. don't worry, she's a big girl. She knows how to defend herself."

"Did you teach her?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Can you teach me?"

"Of course. When would you like to start?"

"I was kidding."

"I'm not."

You feel a swell in your chest. Unfortunately, it's nothing bad. Just good.. stirrings. Same feeling when eating a marshmallow.

"I can handle myself." you say.

He sighs. "I know you can, but.." he stops walking, "I just want to teach you how to clock someone the right way."

"The right way?" you echo amusedly.

"Yeah, the kind of way that knocks someone out in one or two hits. So that they don't quickly get back up."

Court starts his gait again. You're about to reply a joke, but notice that you two are almost to the station. You press your lips shut and stifle a smile. 

You want to ask him more. You want him to talk to you more. But you don't want him to run out of things to say or share to you and your curious (talkative) self. Then again…

You furtively peer at his face. It's serious, like it always is; however, there's flecks of nervousness on it. The reason for that is unfathomable to you.

…Court never ceases to astonish you.

The police are like flies on a watermelon on a hot, sunny day when you and Court enter.

They inquire you relentlessly while ushering you to a room. And when asked to have a private conversation with you, Court is about to exit when you hold onto his arm and ask the officers to let him stay.

Now, he's watching you retell the whole event.

"Listen, don't look too suspicious. Keep your cap up a bit, but not enough to show your face on the CCTVs. Just enough to let them know you're friendly."

Court briefly lowers his head, hiding his smile, as he recalls what you whispered to him before entering the station. It's as though you know what kind of circumstances he and Claire have. Surprisingly, no matter how many countless times he did a background check, you don't know anything— you're clean.

Too clean, if his paranoia may add.

And if his paranoia will add another thing, it's: how the fuck is he still calm being in a police station filled with security camera?!

Court is panicking for not panicking in the first place. Scratch that— for not panicking even now!

It's baffling him.

Appalling even!

"Opo, nakatali lang po sila sa isang puno sa Waterfront Park. Kaibigan ko po may kakagawan," you nod towards him and the officers glance with quirked brows.

Court internally composes himself and returns a nod. Looking at you, everything somewhat becomes crystal clear yet simultaneously foggy.

If you're the reason why he's staying calm indefinitely, the next questions should be.. why and how?

By the time you're done with the interrogation, Court unfortunately doesn't come up with an answer.

The officers escort you two out, where Court only piggybacks you down the stairs and off into the street.

"They wanted to interview you," you say once Court crosses to the next block.

"Really?"

"Yup! Told them you're Icelandic and still practicing basic English."

Court stifles a smile, but it quickly ends up into a grin. "I can't believe they bought that," he replies teasingly.

You huff proudly. "I can be monumentally persuasive without breaking a sweat."

"What else did you persuaded them to?"

"Nothing, really. They're quick to assume that I'm your tutor."

"Did you tell them we were out late tutoring?"

"Yeah, I did! I told them that you were an immersive learner, you needed environmental stimuli to learn the words. That's why we were outside, and then got attacked by those goons."

Court can't hold back his laugh. And you're immediately infected by it.

"What?" you ask, chuckling.

"You're a very convincing liar." he declares, "I say that as a compliment."

"It wasn't lying if it was partly true."

"I don't think half of it was true. Nevertheless, it was awesome."

"But you are Icelandic, right? I presumed because of the chef-takes-first-spoonful tradition." you snicker and unknowingly place your chin on the edge of his shoulder, inclining your head sideways. "Remember? The night we first met.."

"Yeah," he looks over at you, "how could I forget?"

Court doesn't realize, and neither did you, just how close your faces are. All he knows is that despite your bruised face decorated with cuts, you look pretty. 

You are pretty. 

But he doesn't like you because you're pretty.

You're pretty because he likes you.

Wait, what?

"Hey, noble steed, you aren't moving." you pat his shoulders, chuckling.

Court snaps out of his stupor just as you pull your face off his shoulder. He notices your blushing cheeks, but disregards it for a trick of the light on your bruise.

"Sorry," he mumbles and carefully marches towards the SUV.

Once you're safely situated and buckled up in the backseat, the father-daughter duo chorus a question— "So, where do you live??"

"Jinx," you chuckle and reel out your phone. "I live in—"

Without warning, there's a heavy pounding in your chest. You're about to ignore it when you feel your airway tightening. You furrow your brows as you try to steady your breaths. "I'm okay, just—" you sputter, "Just give me a minute."

"(N/N), what's wrong?!" Kiara unlatches her seatbelt and meticulously sidles from the front seat to the back.

You shut your eyes, but that only made it worse.

The guys who attacked you flash through your head, and you feel their hands on you again.

You snap your eyes open. No one's touching you. Even Claire is just right in front of you.

"I don't think I can go back to my apartment." you confess, gauging their reactions.

"That's.. that's okay, hey," Claire rubs your shoulder.

"The landlord will have me taken care of, I don't—" you shake your head, "I don't want to burden anyone."

"You won't be, (Y/N)." Court declares, frowning at you.

"Yeah, you need help, (N/N). That doesn't mean you're a burden," says Claire. "Do you want to go to Mindy's?"

"No, no.. I don't want to drag her into this."

Court sighs exasperatedly. "Are you serious? Will you stop worrying about others for now?" he questions, though it sounds more of a demand. "Mindy is your friend, and she'd want to get dragged into this. Unless you don't consider her your friend."

"She is. That's why I don't want to go to her right now."

"What the fuck kind of logic is that?"

"Kurt!" Kiara hisses.

"If you're so stressed about me, just leave me at the cafe!" you yell.

"What?!" the father-daughter duo looks at you in disbelief.

You sigh apologetically. "I'm sorry."

They stay silent.

"The cafe is a safe space for me." you disclose, looking at Court and Claire. "I have extra clothes there, some first-aid, and a lounge room where I can rest."

Court breathes out a laugh, shakes his head, and exasperatedly drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah, no," he says, facing forward.

You roll your eyes. "What do you mean no?"

He looks over to you, gaze unreadable yet solemn. "I mean, you're staying with us for a few days. And that's final."

A/N: very firm, Courtland Gentry! WE LOVE IT! And not to be conceited or anything, but if you think this main dish is sweet.. wait 'til y'all taste the dessert ☆⌒(≧▽​° )

The keys to Chapter 17 are yet to be found!

✨TAGLIST✨

@kat-thepoet @queenofhellhasrisen @sierrasixswife @vallyb @lyuir @yvxcy @justareaderdude @sortingharryshairclip

[ksbbb]

ur okay to answer all of the questions? 🤭😅😆

😂😂😂 for you? I will 🫂

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)? A lot of material to work with considering we have to fill in gaps. Multiple characters to use. Lost of works to explore and plus there’s so many head canons that you can get lost and have a whole day to fill. 😂 they finished the show too. I will add that. Some shows get canceled.

A head cannon you weren’t sure about at first but you have come to like?

Liam not being able to cook. It sounds silly but at first I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and I enjoy the thought of Theo being the cook and perfectionist with it.

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate?

Derek Hale. LISTEN. Don’t come for me. Originally I didn’t like Derek because he was mean to Scott at first and I didn’t like how he threw Isaac out of the loft with no place to go. 😤 however, I’ve come to the conclusion through the fandom that he has grown and he went through a lot. He also did come back to help Scott.

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

Stalia. Stiles helping Malia and them looking out for each other was always really sweet to me.

Something you see in fics a lot and love

Theo moving in with Liam. I think we have established this happened for real in our teen wolf world.

Something you see in art a lot and love

Theo and Liam in Theo’s truck driving around.

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

Enemies to lovers

Sharing a bed

Reluctant friends/allies

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

Season 5 . Yes it was a little rough and a lot of holes, but we got Theo and the chimera pack. It also gave a horror type vibe which I loved .

Plus plus… we were introduced to

A ship that isn’t your OTP but you enjoy

Scisaac. I don’t think anything else needs to be said.

a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

@thiamsxbitch @wolfboy88

If you’re a writer or an artist what work are you proud of making? 

Hmmm. I think I always come back to this but

your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

Thiam gift exchange was fun. I also liked the thiam reverse big bang and seeing all the artwork

Compliment someone else in your fandom

Well… that’s hard fjfjfj. I like everyone but I will say that green zone is the best written fic I’ve read in a long time. @chasing-chimeras

A ship that always makes you smile 

Scira . 💙💙 so wholesome

A character that always makes you smile

Scott

A thing in canon that everyone loves that you also love

Morey. I mean, Jeff didn’t screw that up in in the show. The movie we won’t discuss .

tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

The development of Derek and Scott’s relationship from angry stand offish allies to brothers. I think it’s cute and now that I like Derek I love it. 😂

Your first fandom

Vampire diaries but I wasn’t a writer or artist for it

Your current fandom

Teen wolf

All American

Shadow and bone

Supernatural

a fandom you're not active in anymore but that you still really like

Vampire diaries

A fandom friend you have known the longest

@waterloou 🫂

the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

Hmm 🤔 idk. I’d have to think but one tree hill has been on my mind to watch because of you @thiamsxbitch

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

I met some fantastic people and for that I will be eternally thankful

A piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces?

Take breaks and don’t look at numbers. It’s easy to get lost in it but what’s important is that you enjoy what you’re doing. If you don’t like it and it becomes a constant stress for more likes or comments, then it’s time to step away.

It should be fun

[swampstew]

ITS MY ONE PIECE ANNIVERSARY!

One year ago I tripped and fell from balcony to floor, WITH my dog who safely landed on ME, about 10 feet, and broke some bones. Laid up in bed, sad as shit about my woes, my partner gave me a sly smirk.

Him: so since you're bedridden for a while and given you've never 'had the time' to watch One Piece, how about we start tonight?

Readers, I'm changed for the better. I finished in 6 weeks and by week 4 I had already started outlining my first draft. A story about a Witch who joined the Straw Hat crew after being saved from Thriller Bark. At the end of week 4, I reached the Sabaody Archipelago Arc and met my husband-to-be, Eustass Kid.

It took me one day to completely change my draft and start the first 5 chapters of what became later known as "What's the Magic Word?" I began a second OC story during a long-ass international flight, which I began publishing first as I was still too insecure to post my true self insert story, though "Turn Back Time" did also become a self insert since so much of the meat comes from personal life experience and stuff though unintentional as that was.

I began posting on AO3 last June with edited one shots taken from my fics and later in August or September, I created a new Tumblr page after being inactive on my last blog since 2013. Since then, I have collaborated with other writers, began posting more fics and stories on Kid, the Kid Pirates and a variety of canon OP characters, gained a community of friends and cool mutuals, commissioned and got to gush to some of my favorite artists, and overall I am just very happy and grateful for all I've gained since that day my partner insisted I watch this insanely long manga about a group of pirates. I look forward to being much more active again next week as I get a break from all personal/professional endeavors, at least until the next round begins in the summer.

Everyone say thank you Raven's Partner!

[fullcry]

TRIGUN FIC PUBLICATION SCHEDULE [Spring/Summer 2023]

-Quick Notes-

I know I've been saying I'll post my publication schedule next week for the past four weeks, but here we finally are! Scroll all the way down if you're looking for the schedule. V

I'll be focusing on 3 fics this spring and summer, detailed below, though I may throw in oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fics in between scheduled updates if the mood strikes and I have the time.

"Memories on Film" will be my last direct-to-AO3 fic before I launch my Patreon Page (technically already up, just very bare bones right now). After that, all updates will hit my Patreon first and be posted to AO3 for everybody two weeks later. If you've enjoyed my Trigun fics I hope you'll consider supporting!

I'll also be posting about my Patreon page and goals for that more over on main (@spicychestnut) later this month.

If you have any questions please feel free to send me an ask! I'll do my best to get to them timely. Thanks everyone for your support so far in this (for me, anyway) new fandom! Can't wait to scream about season 2 of Stampede with you all!

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

-Fics-

"Memories on Film"

She awoke with a splitting headache, wearing Vash's jacket (and only his jacket), with Vash curled behind her wearing nothing at all. She has no memory of the night before and neither does he, but her camera might hold the secrets. | VashMeryl, TriStamp, Eventual NSFW.

"Love and Peace and Gunsmoke"

She first met him hanging upside down beneath the blazing suns of a desert sky, and should have known then that he’d turn her world upside down, too. She was a newbie reporter with an insatiable curiosity and aspirations of greatness; but time and experience can be as cruel as they can be kind, and she learns the long hard way that curiosity can lead to difficult truths, and greatness often comes at a price. | Meryl-centric, eventual VashMeryl, AU Longfic.

"Biology"

Things were tight on Ship 3, the refugee crisis taking a toll on available supplies across the planet. But Vash’s solar array held the promise of turning the tide in the fight against Knives, and with the recent discovery of long-missing ship 13 buried in the desert, they had the chance to potentially triple their resources overnight. But things never go as planned with Vash around; one mishap leads to another, and Vash and Meryl are forced to confront the feelings the Knives crisis has caused them both to bury. | VashMeryl, TriStamp, Eventual NSFW.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

-The Schedule-

Publication weekly on Saturday afternoon/evening. Patreon supporters at the $4/mo tier will get 2 week early access to updates before they're posted to AO3!

Edit: Please note there have been some changes as of early May!

Memories on Film | Ch 1: April 8 Memories on Film | Ch 2: April 15 Memories on Film | Ch 3: April 22 Memories on Film | Ch 4: April 29

Break Week: May 6

LP&G | Ch 2: May 13 (Patreon) / May 20 (Public) LP&G | Ch 3: May 20 (Patreon) / May 27 (Public)

Break Week: May 27 (Patreon) / June 10 (Public)

Biology | Ch 1: June 3 (Patreon) / June 17 (Public) Biology | Ch 2: June 10 (Patreon) / June 24 (Public) Biology | Ch 3: June 17 (Patreon) / July 1 (Public) Biology | Ch 4: June 24 (Patreon) / July 8 (Public) Biology | Ch 5: July 1 (Patreon) / July 15 (Public) Biology | Ch 6: July 8 (Patreon) / July 22 (Public) Biology | Ch 7: July 15 (Patreon) / July 29(Public) Biology | Ch 8: July 22 (Patreon) / August 5 (Public) Biology | Ch 9: July 29 (Patreon) / August 12 (Public) Biology | Ch 10: August 5 (Patreon) / August 19 (Public)

Break Week: August 12 (Patreon) / August 26 (Public)

LP&G | Ch 4: August 19 (Patreon) / September 2 (Public) LP&G | Ch 5: August 26 (Patreon) / September 9 (Public)

Fall 2023 publication schedule will be posted at the start of August!

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

-Support!-

One-time donations @ Ko-Fi Support monthly @ Patreon

.

Last Updated 5/8/23

[the-spooky-alien]

Day 10 of Fictober !

Fandom : X-Files with the prompt "It's my name on the line"

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2022

-

''Sometimes I think it would be better if you stayed away from me.''

It sounds weak in the air between them. Every words shake under the weight of his guilt. His eyes never leave the road.

She wishes he would look at her.

''Why ?'' she asks, even though she only wants to prove him wrong by telling him how indispensable he became to her. But she isn't sure it's the right thing to say. He's being honest, baring himself in front of her, offering his heart for her hands to craddle and she's terrified to break it. One wrong word, and she will have to mend every shards.

Mulder shrugs, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips. ''Have you been there the past five years ?'' He refuses to look at her, but his head twitches as if he almost turned to face her. ''All you've been through, it's all because of me. If you hadn't met me, if you had left the X-Files, you would never have to suffer through all of it. You would never have to lose-''

''Mulder.'' Her voice comes out strangled. She doesn't want to think of it, of the pain and the losses. There's a hole in her chest, and at night it becomes large enough to swallow her whole. Talking about it only allows the hole to crush her bones and suffocate her lungs.

''See ?'' This time he does turn towards her, his face scrunched in bitterness. ''You can't even dare to think about it. I did this to you. It's my fault.''

''Mulder, stop the car.''

''What ?'' he chokes, clutching the wheel as if he's afraid she will take it from him.

''I said stop the car.''

He does as she says. Before he can open his mouth to ask her why they're stopping in the middle of nowhere, she turns to him and cups his face. His eyes widen comically, though he leans slightly into her touch.

''I want you to listen to my every words carefully. Can you do that ?'' Blinking at her, he nods. She sighs, taking in the warmth of his skin, and the roughness of his shaved cheeks. He's beautiful and pliant underneath her, ready to follow her lead. How can he even think she would be better without him ? ''You have no right to blame yourself for everything that happened to me. I won't allow your self-righteous guilt to take you spiralling. What I went through in our years of partnership wasn't your fault.''

He frowned, already shaking his head, prompt to protest but she shushes him.

''You keep acting like I'm here with you against my will, but you're wrong. Mulder, I may not have chosen to be assigned to the X-Files, but I'm choosing to stay by your side. This is my job, it's my name on the line, as it's yours, and I wouldn't change it for anything. You asked me once, if I knew what was waiting for me in our partnership if I would have changed a day of it, and I said I wouldn't. I was telling the truth.''

Leaning towards him, she lets her forehead rests against his. ''The people I lost-'' Her sister flashes in her mind, shadowed by the image of Emily's lying on a hospital bed, and for a moment, she can't breathe. Mulder's eyes soften, and soon, he enclasps one of her hands in his, rubbing soothing circles in her skin. She relaxes, inhaling deeply. ''The experiences I went through, my abduction, my cancer... None of them were your fault. Neither of us are responsible for what happened to us through the years. Mulder,'' she whispers, unable to keep the reverent tone out of her voice, ''you're the reason I kept going. You're the reason I kept rising out of my bed while I was burdened by the guilt of my sister's death. You're the reason I kept hope even as I was dying from my cancer. The only thing you're guilty of is saving me.''

Her words echo his, from that moment in the hallway, both so far away and so close. If she blinks, will she find herself in this car or in his hallway ?

She smiles softly at him when she sees his eyes shining, sliding one hand from his cheek to cup the back of his neck. A low sound escapes him, something between a whine and a sigh.

''I am incredibly lucky to have you with me,'' she says, prompting another choked sound out of him as he closes his eyes in a last attempt to keep an even composure. Her heart clenches. Did someone ever told him this ? ''I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm standing here with you today, and nothing will prevent me from standing with you tomorrow and the day after until we're both too old to keep chasing aliens and UFOs. I am choosing you.''

''Why ?'' he cries, opening his eyes, confusion and gratefulness swimming in the specks of green in his irises.

It would be easy to answer, to mouth the words gathering in her throat like a lump. But she can't. Because she bared herself to him, almost entirely, and this is the last thing she still has for herself.

If she's being honest, fear is what constricts her throat. If she says it to him, I love you, will the words be tainted by the distance creeping between them since Diana came back ? Since they lost the X-Files ?

If she says it, will he say it back ?

Mulder is her best friend. The only person in this world she trusts to have her back. To hold her when she crumbles. To wipe her cheeks when everything feels too much.

She can't risk this.

She just can't.

Mulder is still watching her, but his face is more tender, softer, and she knows he understands. They don't need words. It's in the silence, nestled between the beats of their hearts.

His grip on her hand tightens.

After a while, they get back on the road, because that's what they always do. They only get a few moments of respite here and there, before hearing the call of the road again.

Through it all, their hands stay clasped between them.