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silverdelirium · 3 years

Note

Draco ✨doing the reader✨ while wearing his sweater/jumper (Only if ur okay and comfortable with it. Have a nice day!!) ❤️

im kinda unmotivated so this is shit

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving)

———

draco sighed tiredly as he made his way to his dorm, the bag on his shoulder heavy and body aching. wanting nothing more than to relax in his girlfriend’s arms.

he really hoped that by now you would be in his room waiting for him, considering the fact that he had previously asked you during the day to meet him there.

once draco stood in front of his door, he could hear the soft shuffling of someone inside. a smile crept up his face at the thought while he turned the knob.

your head snapped at the sound of the door creaking open, a smile creeping up to your face as you saw your boyfriend entering the room, mirroring your smile. yet the look went away as soon as his eyes raked over your figure, eyes going wide and mouth agape in the slightest.

you frowned and looked down to your attire, which consisted on nothing but his old quidditch jumper, the word “malfoy” being embedded at the back with silver.

draco could’ve easily drooled at the sight of you, with nothing on but his clothing. he didn’t know if he wanted to wrap you up in his arms and hug you for eternity or take you right then and there.

he marched forward to you, keeping his eyes trained on your body, a smirk replacing his shocked expression. “you look so gorgeous with my clothing, baby” he murmured as he buried his face on your neck, letting his nostrils get filled with your scent, the same one he fell in love with.

you giggled as your face turned hot, squealing when his hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you up, causing your legs to tangle around his torso.

a small laugh escaped you when he threw you down softly on the bed, hovering over you and licking his lips, trousers tightening by the minute.

he leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss, tongue pressing against yours in a dominant manner, small moans emitting from your throat while you explored his mouth skillfully with your own.

he left you both breathless, until your lips were swollen and you had to break apart to catch some air.

yet the lack of oxygen didn’t stop draco whatsoever, he was traveling down with his lips to your neck, grazing your sweet spot with his teeth, making you whimper while he marked your neck, sucking on spots that had your brain go fuzzy.

you hummed in pleasure when his finger went to the hem of your his jumper, lifting the material until it was bunched up at your waist. he kissed down from your, now marked, neck to your breasts, playfully shaking his head against the covered mounds, to your stomach until he was in line with your bare cunt.

pussy out on display for him, glistening. a low grunt rumbled in his chest before he digged his nails on your thighs, spreading them apart.

he gave tentative licks against your clit, making you shudder. “please” you whined, bucking your hips up. “sh baby, relax for me” he ushered, keeping eye contact as his lips enveloped your clit completely, causing you to cry out.

he hummed against you while slowly closing his eyes, taking a last glimpse of you arching your back and fisting the sheets.

your hands made a path to your boyfriend’s hair, massaging it lightly with your nails while he absolutely devoured you with his tongue, lapping up at your clit.

draco placed one long kiss against your clit before letting his tongue dive down to your center, which earned him a loud moan from you, thighs shaking while he went in and out of you with his pink muscle.

strings of curse words left your lips as you tightened your grip on his hair.

”fuck draco! just like that!”

his slender fingers made way to your clit, making figure-eights that had you jolting up in pleasure.

draco groaned against you once he felt your walls clenching around his tongue, signaling that you were close.

“im gonna cum!” you moaned out, moving your hips up and down to create more friction. he gave your thighs a small squeeze as reassurance, letting your orgasm wash over you like a blissful wave, plus a chanting of his name over and over again meanwhile he eagerly lapped up your juices.

he removed himself from your heat with a small kiss on your overstimulated clit.

“that’s my good girl” he murmured, drunk in lust when he saw your disheveled figure.

you gave ragged breaths, trying to compose yourself, watching as draco removed his trousers, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it hang on his shoulders.

you sat up. stretching a hand out to give slow strokes on his cock, evoking a moan from draco, tip leaking with pre-cum as he observed you with hooded eyes.

his own hands pushed your shoulders back gently, your hand slipping from his shaft.

draco took your ankles in his hands and brought you forward so you were at the edge of the bed. cock right in line with your wet cunt.

“i’m gonna fuck you so hard, princess” he groaned, not giving you time to respond as he harshly entered you at once, making you release a small shout while gripping his forearms that were located besides your head.

he set a fast tempo from the start, snapping his hips to yours in sharp motions, until your eyes rolled onto the back of your head. “so tight, baby” he grunted, angling your hips so he was hitting your g-spot directly.

moan after moan came out from you, feeling every detail of his cock inside you, the pleasure being amplified when he rubbed fast circles on your clit.

the headboard banged against the wall while the blonde continued his harsh thrusts, looking down at your covered bouncing breasts with eager eyes.

“scream my name baby” he demanded, eyes now trained on the way his cock slipped in and out of you.

“oh god! draco!” you cried out, arching your back and curling your toes, clenching around draco while desperately chasing your orgasm.

you clenching around draco, almost did it for him, but he held himself back, wanting your orgasm to be assured before his.

speeding his motions on your clit, he perched your leg up on his shoulder, now hitting a deeper spot inside you.

that did it for you. you didn’t have time to give him a warning as you came around him, giving a strangled moan while your vision became white.

“oh fuck” moaned draco as he watched you come undone around him, his own orgasm hitting him right at that moment.

his thrusts became sloppy as he came inside you, coating your walls entirely.

a low hiss escaped him when he pulled out, brushing his tip against your puffy folds.

you hummed in exhaustion as he collected the cum that was oozing out of your pussy, placing the drenched fingers inside his mouth, keeping eye contact.

———

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

I propose slow loving sex with Gojo thank u for ur time

propose and you may receive

prince charming - gojo x reader (2.5k)

[comments and reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns. not sfw. minors dni! light fingering, piv sex, coming inside, soft. . . soft . . .

Most people who know Satoru Gojo would tell you that the man has two modes. Two ways of being. There is the way that he is from day to day; the laugh, the shovelling of sweets into his mouth, the constant stream of upbeat nonsense and jokes that few people are able to keep a proper track of. This is the Satoru Gojo he is with his students, you think – when the weight of being the strongest does not weigh so heavy on his shoulders.

Then, there is the Satoru Gojo in battle. There is the lift of his blindfold, the way that his blue eyes bore into his enemies – the self-assured way of talking, the ruthless precision with which he deploys his skills. This is the Satoru Gojo that does bear the weight of all of his strength; but his lips still quirk at the corners, he still cracks a joke sometimes though his tone is steely. They have shades of one another, those two personalities - but still, they are the two personalities that he chooses to show the world.

You, however, are permitted to see a different side than most people do.

You see Gojo now, with his body over yours, his soft lips brushing your jawline. You see him with his big hands, cupping your face so he has more access to your neck and your ear, the kisses coming slow and soft and relaxed. He is a large man, despite the fact that he is tall, lithe muscle as opposed to pure brawn – he cages you beneath him like he never wants you to be able to escape him.

You do not want to escape him. Not least when you finally manage to capture those lips in your own and you taste sugar on his tongue. As his teeth nip gently at your lower lip and a breathy sigh is transferred into his mouth; as his long fingers run down your body, appreciating you with a soft hum.

“I’d ask what I did to get so lucky,” he murmurs, voice low and throaty, “but I think I deserve you.”

Some things do not change; Gojo’s arrogance is always there, beneath the surface. He is lucky you find his self-confidence charming, your lips sliding into a smile as your own hands gently push up the shirt he’s wearing. His skin is warm and soft beneath it (you dread to think how expensive it was; Gojo spends money like it’s going out of style, and you have a myriad of gifts to prove it).

“You don’t shut up, do you?” You ask him, mildly, your smile not leaving your face. He laughs softly, and it feels like wind blowing through a field of flowers.

“You love me for it,” he says, all fondness, and he’s right. His shirt is parted from his top half and you admire him; unmarked skin (you suppose his technique means he’s free from the scars so many other jujutsu sorcerers learn to live with), the lean but taut muscles of his abdomen and shoulders. You run your fingers over him and he sighs, leaning into your touch like a cat. Your thumb brushes the hollow of his throat as you take a handful of his pale hair and drag him down into another kiss.

If nothing else, it occupies his mouth.

You can feel his hardness straining in his ripped jeans (pre-ripped for his convenience, with an eye-watering price tag, but even you have to admit that they make his ass look rounder and cling to his thighs and crotch in a way that makes you needy and heated if you stare for too long) as he moves his body against you, half-grinding.

You’re on the couch. You really should move to the bed – heaven knows Gojo’s is big enough for both of you – but there’s something domestic and sweet about Gojo kissing you here, amongst the remains of the sweets he’d been feeding you and with a romantic comedy neither of you are watching any more playing on the screen.

It’s so easy to feel like everything with Gojo is a life-or-death situation – to ascribe more meaning to a brush of his fingers on your shoulder or a murmur of ‘I’ll be home later tonight’ than you really need to.

This, though - this is simple, and easy. It lets you forget the world outside, just for the moments in which Gojo’s body is pressed against yours – lets you think of yourself as a normal couple.

There is nothing more romantic to you than the thought of you and Gojo being able to be just anybody.

So you spread your legs further apart so he can settle between them, sighing as his mouth moves from your own to brush kisses over your cheeks and the bridge of your nose instead.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he tells you, as he pulls back and tugs on your own shirt – you allow it to be removed, thrown onto the ground where you may never see it again. Much more interesting than the lost shirt are Gojo’s hands, large and warm, sliding up the expanse of your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. He undoes the catch of your bra as if the motion is as easy as breathing – and maybe to him, it is. Upon your flesh being newly bared, he sighs, leaning down to kiss the swell of the curve. To find your nipple with the warmth of his tongue and tease it to hardness as he flattens his tongue against it and laps at you, the motion sending little electric shocks of pleasure to the place between your thighs. You sigh and squirm, and he gives the hardened bud a gentle graze of his teeth as he pulls back to look at you.

The sight of his blue eyes concentrated wholly on you and all of the distilled starshine contained within always makes you lose your senses for a moment. It should be unfair, you think, for him to look like that. For those wide blue eyes to seem so innocent when you know that he is not--

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you. You know that he’s telling you the truth; Gojo is not the kind to mince his words. His hands rest on your waist, curving down over your hips to tug at your bottoms and make short work of those too. You lift yourself slightly to allow it, Gojo wriggling so that he can get them off without ever having to really move from between your legs. The bottoms go the same way as your shirt, and you are below him now in nothing but your underwear--

Though that’s barely covering anything. Gojo sighs to see the pale white of the piece you’re wearing has gone translucent from the gush of your slick, clinging to the outline of your folds and showing him just how needy the kissing and the touching and the groping has gotten. He trails a finger down and brushes your mound through the fabric, ghosting over your clit.

“This is for me, doll?” He asks you, a smirk on his face that you want to kiss off.

“You know it is,” you breathe, lifting your hips – and the smirk softens into a smile.

“Maybe I like hearing you say it,” he murmurs, increasing the pressure of his touch so he is rubbing you through the cotton; his big fingers pressing against your clit, making your hips jerk. You don’t know if you want to jerk away from the sensation of the fabric pressing against your swollen nub, or jerk into the pressure that you want so badly – so you settle for circling your hips, panting soft little noises.

Gojo smiles at you and the expression on his face is dazzling. Your heart skips a beat; he’s so beautiful. You’re so unbelievably, amazingly lucky--

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, leaning and kissing your cheek, burying his face in the crook of your neck to kiss and lick and suck at the skin there. Your back arches as his attentions send yet more shivers down your spine, set you aflame even further. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear his face was warm – is he blushing? “If you could see yourself, you’d understand--”

“If you could see yourself,” you tell him, through the pounding need in your chest, “you’d understand exactly why I’m looking at you like that--”

“Oh, I know,” he preens, though his face is still warm. He hooks his fingers into the wet underwear and pulls them over your thighs. “I know why you’re looking at me like that! I’m gorgeous-- but . . .” He seems to stumble over his words before he manages to get a good hold on them again, before he pulls back and the flush on his cheeks is only barely there. “You don’t know how gorgeous you are, and . . .” He places a hand to his chest. Your underwear is dangling from his thumb, though you’re not entirely sure how he fully tangled you out of him in the position the two of you are still in. “It breaks my heart!”

You smile despite yourself.

“You’re being too romantic,” you tell him, though your insides are secretly all aflame and bubbling. “It’s not like you.”

“I’m wounded,” he says. One hand lands on your thigh, drawing circles and patterns on the slick skin – his middle finger gently nudges the very outside of your sex, teasing the puffy lips apart so he can brush your clit. Your gasp dies in your throat. “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute Prince Charming, baby--”

And he’s giving you that charming smile, even as that same finger presses deep inside you in one swift movement and your knuckles clench on the couch cushion. You groan aloud, lifting your hips to allow him deeper, to make you feel fuller--

Your eyelashes flutter, eyelids somewhere between open and closed, but you still see that Gojo’s own gaze is fixed on you. It’s tender. Loving. You feel strangely exposed beneath it – but at the same time, you feel warm and comfortable and right as he adds another finger and stretches you out on it, scissoring them apart. He brushes the spongy spot of your walls that always hits different and you sigh, murmuring out his name--

“Satoru,” you’re practically whining. “Satoru, faster, please—”

“Prince Satoru,” he corrects you, with a grin that’s slightly crooked to one side and more charming than it has any right to be. He pumps his fingers in and out of you a few more times, until they are thoroughly coated in your wetness, until the fire inside you has been suitably kindled and your breath is uneven and your face is hot – and then he pulls them out.

You don’t have time to whine.

Not with the sound of his zipper, the sound of him kicking off his expensive jeans – the heat of him settling over you on his knees and taking your hips to slide you easily onto his cock.

He groans out your name like it’s all he ever wants to say.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he says, and you reach up and grab a handful of his hair again. He lets it be pulled with only the softest sigh – lets you bend him over you so the two of you are cheek to cheek, chest to chest, so close that you can feel his heart beating. “Fuck, doll--”

He’s right. He fits inside of you like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle; warm and tight and perfect.

It’s a triumph, for Satoru Gojo to be lost for words – but he stops speaking as he fucks you slow and soft. It’s not that you and he only usually fuck hard and rough – but his job is stressful, and he is teasing and smug, and it’s more usual for you to be bent over on his bed as he pulls your hair and runs his mouth than it is for anything like this to happen.

He doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it, though – and neither do you. How can you complain when he holds you so gently? When he kisses you like he’s savouring the taste of you instead of devouring you?

He’s not speaking, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy – he’s panting, groaning, moaning. He’s always loud in bed – he has almost no self-control when it comes to pleasure, you don’t think – but the noises also go right through you in only the best of ways, making you shiver and shudder. It’s unfair that his voice should sound so good. It’s unfair that he should have almost no flaws--

Some people might say his personality is a flaw, you suppose, but you unfortunately find him charming.

You wrap your legs about his waist and his cock hits deeper, brushes that same spot inside of you – but you find you do not care so much about the orgasm as you care about having Gojo in this embrace.

Not caring about it, though, doesn’t mean that is not going to happen – not with the slow thrusts of his hips, or with the sight of him with his lip bitten and his hair all mussed up from your tangling.

You’re not sure if Gojo has ever found something that he isn’t good at, and fucking you is no exception. His cock hits every spot inside of you and seems to find new nerves you didn’t know would feel so good when stimulated; your entire abdomen (hell, your entire body) feels like it’s on fire. You were slick enough before he’d entered you, but now you can feel your own arousal pooling on the couch cushions beneath you – you can hear how wet Gojo’s cock must be, on the push-pull of him fucking into you. The glide is slick and silky and searing, and your fingers flex on his back, as the tight string inside of you readies to snap.

“Sat-- I’m-- ‘m gonna--”

Your words are lost to the feel of him, to the haze that seems to descend around you whenever you and Gojo are together. You see the curve of his smile, hear him softly whisper;

“S’alright, baby--”

A stroke of his hips that has the flat plane of his pelvis pressing against your clit and you let yourself go, tumbling into the bright lights of your oblivion, your thighs tightening reflexively about him as if you want him to drown inside of you. Gojo sighs, groans, moans out your name as your cunt milks him for all he is worth, squeezing around him – and, he, too, lets go. Heat. Warmth. Gojo’s cock, twitching, heavy and perfect and right inside of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, against his collarbone, in time with the beating of his heart – and Gojo looks at you as his hips continue to roll slow and leisurely, eking out the final drops of his release as it settles inside of you like a claim, and he smiles slow and soft like honey or syrup.

“I know,” he says, quietly. “I love you too.”

He stays inside of you, on top of you, in the embrace, even as his cock begins to soften. Enjoying your warmth, your presence, your closeness.

Maybe he is a Prince Charming.

You’re not going to say that aloud to him, though.

He’d never let it go.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #writing #jjk posting #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #not sfw #jjk writing #afab reader #neutral pronouns #Anonymous

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nagipops · 3 years

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hi!! i think the ask box is open right now but what about a fem! reader that was kinda adopted by all the hashiras when she was small, and on her first mission, she gets turned into a demon? and like they're all conflicted but it's kinda sad how the reader wants to die because she was turned :( if you can't write it it's okay! i love ur works sm <3

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART I.

SUMMARY: in which your overwhelming tenacity leads you to suffer a demonic fate.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity

A/N: thank you darling! this got a bit long so i’ve split it into two parts— the second part will be posted very shortly! link to part two

“(Y/N)!” Giyuu barked. “Get back!”

You steadily held your nichirin blade in front of you with both hands, staring down the towering demon in front of you. Three veiny arms sprouted out from each side of its body, taunting your group as its flaring yellow eyes locked onto yours.

Clutching the handle of your blade tighter, you panted heavily to control your breathing, clenching your teeth. “I’ve got this!” you hollered back, your knuckles turning white.

You heard a clink of metal and the whirling of a sword as a short purple-haired hashira stepped in front of you. “It’s too dangerous.” Her typical honey-sweet voice was darkened with concern and anger. “Please, (Y/N).”

You were shaking with anger, and... envy? All you wanted was to be strong. To bring home a kill on your first mission. To not be seen as a child anymore by the nine pillars who had taken you under your wing when you were just a baby.

I’m not a kid anymore, you wanted to scream. I want to show you what I can do.

“Go,” Giyuu commanded, casting a glance at Shinobu before briefly locking eyes with you. “We’ll handle this.”

Biting your tongue, you glared at the demon for a moment longer before turning on your heel and retreating to the rest of your squad.

“(Y/N)-chan!” Mitsuri wailed, throwing her arms around you. Over her shoulder, you spotted a fuming Obanai glaring daggers at you; whether he was jealous of the pink-haired girl draped over you or angry at your reckless actions, you couldn’t tell. “We were so worried about you!”

“No, we weren’t,” Obanai hissed. “What you did was idiotic and careless. You were putting everyone in danger.”

“Iguro-kun, always so protective!” Mitsuri giggled, patting you on the head before releasing you from her surprisingly tight hold, her expression growing serious. “Tomioka and Shinobu might need our assistance. (Y/N), go find Sanemi and see if he needs help. Iguro, come with me!” She quickly flounced off with a seething Obanai in tow.

Huffing a sigh, you entered the mass of trees behind you to search for the white-haired hashira.

Lofty, swaying pines loomed over you as the sounds of battle crashed throughout the forest. A flock of crows frantically flapped out from the canopy, shooting into the sky as their noisy caws rang through the air. Frigid winds whipped all around you as you hunted down the wind pillar.

A piercing clink of metal, not unlike the noise of a nichirin blade, sounded from your left. Sanemi? Cautiously drawing your sword from its sheath on your hip, you slowly made your way to the source of the noise.

As you neared a small clearing, the sound grew louder and louder, but you still could not locate any hashira or any demons for that matter. You spotted a thick tree to your right and fled over to hide behind it while you scouted out the area.

The clinking continued, and as you listened more closely, it seemed to be coming from...

Above?

Your heart went cold as you realized you didn’t hear any human voices around you.

At all.

You slowly slid your gaze upwards, not daring to move a single muscle.

And there it was. With a rotting arm clutching a chipped, bloodied blade, carving out the remains of a tattered corpse, three feral red eyes piercing through the dark shade and locking onto yours...

A demon.

Fear pooled instantly in your stomach as you felt bile rise in your throat. The putrid stench of rotten flesh and blood nearly made you hurl on the spot, yet your horror kept your nausea at bay.

Were you going to die here?

You felt your terrified breaths grow shallow as the demon above you licked its lips, tossing the corpse down in front of you with a thud.

“N-nemi?” you whispered in fear, praying, praying to the gods that this wasn’t one of your brothers. You quickly studied the corpse and your surroundings, searching for any sign that this bloodied body wasn’t him. You searched for his sword hilt, his white hair, his signature haori, but the darkness of the deep night made any hint or clue futile.

Glaring at the bloodthirsty demon above you, you were petrified with fear. Your heavy feet were locked into place. Your thumping heart nearly burst out of your chest. But you stared the beast down with all your might, slowly reaching your blade out to the corpse in front of you in attempt to retrieve the scrappy remains of what was left of it.

Inch by inch, your gaze unwavering with the demon’s bloodshot eyes, you dragged the body closer and closer to you until it was just within arm’s reach. Steeling yourself, you swiftly grabbed the body and darted away.

You had no time to check whose body you were holding. All you knew was that you had to—

“Kff!”

All of a sudden, your back hit the ground. Hard. With the wind knocked out of your lungs, all you could see was black. You felt your blade slip out of your grasp as your spine seared with red-hot pain. Once you regained your senses, you opened your eyes...

Oh, shit.

Impossibly sharp fangs loomed over you, dripping with foul saliva that oozed onto your heaving chest. Crazed yellow eyes speckled with pumping red veins latched onto yours, a rotting jade-colored head thrashing back and forth as its piercing claws pinned you to the ground. Its breath was the most vile scent you’ve ever smelled in your entire life, reeking of blood and flesh and who knows what else.

And it was just mere inches away from your face.

Stifling a wave of nausea, you swiftly pulled your knees up to your chest and pushed, kicking the demon backwards by its torso as hard as your body would let you.

Darting over to your blade which had fallen to the ground just a few feet away from you, you picked it up and pointed it at the snarling demon who was picking its burly body off of the forest floor.

“You!” you shouted, wiping your slimy face on the sleeve of your uniform. “I’m not scared of you!”

The demon responded with a warbling noise, something that sounded like... laughing?

Your nerves set on fire. Oh, that’s it. You would end this vile monster right here, right now.

“Leaf Breathing, Second Form: Whirlwind of Fronds!” Exhaling sharply through clenched teeth, you felt cool winds start to whip around you, picking up speed as leaves and needles rapidly gravitated towards you as though you were a magnet.

Now!

Growling with fury, you charged at the gremlin with all your might, the swirling flurry of foliage honing in on the center of its chest. Each leaf transformed into sharp, miniature daggers, piercing through the demon’s grayish skin and buying you just enough time to move in close. Wielding your blade with both hands, you raised it above your head before forcefully slicing downwards with a roar, aiming for the neck.

But your opponent was nimble, and it barely dodged its head out of the way, landing you a clean shot down its shoulder to its flank. Shit, the arm can just regenerate itself, you cursed, quickly angling your sword laterally for a slice through the neck as the demon howled in pain.

You slashed your sword as hard as you could, but instead of cutting through soft flesh, you were met with thick, gnarly bone. The demon had raised its other arm in defense, keeping your lethal blade at bay. Struggling to push back against the sturdy bone, you gritted your teeth as you attempted to release your sword from its muscle.

But the demon had already beaten you to it and whipped its hefty arm outwards to shake you off, hurling you across the clearing.

“Hkk!” You landed straight on your back once again with a heavy thud, but you noticed that your blade was still lodged into the creature’s arm. Perfect. Even though single nerve in your body was screaming in pain, even as your limbs trembled as you shakily picked yourself up off the ground, you would never back down from a fight. “Hey, ugly! Let’s finish this!”

The demon howled furiously, clamoring to rip your blade out of its arm.

“Third Form: Drill of Needles!”

Hundreds of thousands of pine needles descended from the midnight sky at your command, whirling into a tight cone while speeding towards the neck of the monster. You heard the earsplitting drilling of flesh and wood followed by a deafening groan and huffed in triumph as the pent-up exhaustion began to release throughout your body.

You nearly hit the ground for the third time when you caught some movement out of the corner of your eye.

Oh, hell no.

There was the same demon, its bright yellow eyes even more furious now, perched high up in a tree.

“B-but...” your mind and vision grew hazy as you noticed the gaping hole in the demon’s chest, with its neck still intact. I missed? You cursed sharply at the sight of your chipped blade thrown carelessly on the ground a great distance away from you.

What do I do? Giyuu, Shinobu, what do I do? Mitsuri? Obanai? Is anyone there?

Your felt your body begin to admit defeat, your legs shaking as they threatened to give out from underneath you, your heaving lungs burning and aching for rest.

The corpse.

Where was the corpse? The same one that got you into this mess?

Sanemi?

You struggled to keep your vision trained on the demon high above as your body started to wobble in exhaustion. “Hey,” you slurred. “Come out here! We’re not— kff! We’re not done yet!”

A snarl sounded from over your shoulder as the familiar stench of rotting flesh flooded your nose once again.

This time, you plummeted to the ground face-first, hearing your nose crack in the process. But your body was too drained for you to properly register the pain.

You were so numb.

Groaning, you slowly rolled onto your back and gazed into the eyes of the demon hovering above you hungrily. Its arm that you had sliced off had already fully recovered, while the other arm choked your neck with an iron grip.

Your vision was nearly white now, your oxygen supply running low as blood trickled out of your neck where the demon’s claw had pierced the skin.

Die. Die. You were going to die. On your first mission. Without a single kill under your belt.

Forcing a smirk onto your face, you squeezed your eyes shut as you endured the pain as best you could. “Hey, now— hck... If there’s anything that Sanemi taught me... it’s that humans... always get the last laugh...” You cracked open one eye, staring straight into the demon’s yellow orbs.

“Noxious... nectar...” you gasped out one last command, watching the bloody pinpricks dotted all around the demon’s greying skin transform into purple specks of poison. The monster thrashed around, violently clutching its head at the pain seeping through its entire body. You watched as your first and last kill take place right in front of you as your vision began to fade.

But not before the demon’s deadly blood dripped into your open wounds.

link to part two.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

#demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer x reader #hashira #kny hashira #kny #kny angst #demon slayer angst #kny x reader #kny imagines #kny headcanons #sanemi imagines #giyuu imagines #mitsuri imagines #shinobu imagines #rengoku imagines #uzui imagines #angst

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fuwushiguro · 3 years

Text

@nomadmilk thank you sooooo much for the congrats gorg!! sorry its taken so long to write this, but welcome to bunny life!! hope u have a fantastic shift and enjoy ur time with hawks (he’s super popular at these things!!)

This is part of my Playboy Mansion event which is now closed.

Hawks x f!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+, consensual sex, mentions of alcohol, oral (male receiving), fingering, mentions of cum, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, car sex, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation.

Words: 2k

The party was in full swing. Everyone was chatting, laughing, dancing, generally having a great time. So why were you so bored? This is your latest in a long line of Playboy parties. They’re fun, of course they’re fun. That’s why so many people come to attend these things after all. It’s such an exclusive event, invite only and only those in the know get the special pink envelope in the post every time the function comes around. But it’s the same every time, it’s the same smiling, happy faces dancing and drinking every single time. You were bored.

You needed some excitement.

You got more than you bargained for when a trio of bunnies approached you. They cat walked over to you, one slightly in front of the others. These particular bunnies are a group of girls you haven’t really taken the time to get to know. You say hello in passing, but nothing more past that. They looked like they meant business, like they had something to tell you about.

“You do work here, yes?” the leader questioned you. You quirked an eyebrow. Was the outfit not enough of a giveaway? Or the fact you see her almost daily since you both live here. You just nodded, simply. Not sure you’d be able to keep your attitude in check if you actually spoke. “So why are you just sitting here? Work the room, get drinks for the guests.” she commanded. You scoffed.

“Sure.” you replied as you stood to your feet. Before you could get back to work, she grabbed you harshly by the wrist. “Let go of me.” you yelped as you attempted to free yourself from her hold.

“What’s wrong with your fucking face? This is a party. You have the best job in the world, seem a little happy about it.” she scolded as she got in your face. Just as you were about to use your free hand to slap her across her stupid smug face, a third party intervened and snatched her away from you.

“Behave little bunny.” he spoke. Her features instantly transformed from furious to flirtatious.

It was Keigo Takami. You’d seen him around before, but never spoke to him. You’d never been this close to him. Most of the bunnies had a soft spot for Keigo, and it wasn’t hard to see why. He was pretty. A pretty blonde stranger with a splash of mystery. What wasn’t to like? He was a big flirt too; you’d heard several stories exchanged of him from the other girls. He’d fucked quite a few of them, even though it was against the rules.

“Keigo!” she began excitedly, “nice to see you again baby… You wanna go somewhere?” she asked him. He looked over to you, but you paid him no mind. You picked up your cocktail tray and wandered off towards the bar.

“Not tonight.” he simply stated as he followed you.

He tapped your right shoulder and you immediately looked to see who it was, when you didn’t immediately see him you turned to your left to see him smiling. He clearly thought it was amusing, but you were in no mood. You gave him a half hearted smile as you reached the bar, you set your tray down and waited for the bar staff to fill it up with drinks for you to carry.

“Tough night?” Keigo questioned. You nodded.

“Apparently your girlfriend doesn’t like me too much.” you responded. He shook his head, immediately denying the accusing tone to your voice. Keigo doesn’t do girlfriends. Before he lets you pick up your serving tray, he rests his heavy hand on it preventing you from lifting.

“Apologies if this comes off a little forward or… you know… inappropriate,” he began, “but do you wanna come and take a breather in my car with me?”

You knew what he was doing. It wasn’t as smooth of a line as he thought it was. But he was staring into your eyes, you were staring back into the pretty pools of honey that were fixated on you. Your hand was on his as you had placed it there when you initially wanted your tray back. It was silly that you were even contemplating it, but the overwhelming adrenaline from the bitch bunny’s confrontation had your train of thought all over the place. You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think what a good and bad idea was. You just wanted some air, you wanted to be out of here. So, you held his gaze and parted your lips.

“Yes.”

☆ ☆ ☆

You left together, and no one seemed to notice. There were so many guests and a large selection of bunny girls, who would care if two people went missing? He opened the passenger side door for you. So chivalrous. You thought to yourself. When he began driving, he put a hand onto your headrest. His face was a little too close to yours as he reversed, he poked his tongue out as he was concentrating. You felt the blood fill your face, warming your cheeks from slight embarrassment. You did your best to turn away and regain your composure. The little act didn’t go unnoticed, Keigo looked at you and smiled.

“Are you nervous?” he queried.

“A little.” you confessed.

He began driving around the back of the mansion. There were so many acres to the yard, only a small fraction was used by the guests for these parties. But still, you’re fairly sure people aren’t meant to drive on the perfectly mowed grass.

“I don’t think you should be doing this.” you told him, but he didn’t stop. Plunging further and further into the darkness of the unlit field.

“Don’t worry babe, me and your boss go back.” he told you. The pet name making you dizzy.

The car came to a stop. Silence. You knew what was about to happen. He knew what was about to happen. But the tension in the air was immeasurable. It was a waiting game to see who’d make the first move. You could barely look in his direction. The tense atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Good girl…” he cooed. Your throat accommodating seven inches of his fat veiny cock. Your eyes watered, but you didn’t care. His hand rested delicately on the crown of your head while you went at your own pace.

You sloshed your tongue around his erection, stimulating each vein as you bobbed up and down.

“Such a good fucking bunny, aren’t you? My little cock slut.” he praised.

You felt shame that you were just another bunny on his ever growing list of conquests, but in this moment with his cock head nudging your tonsils, you’re finding it difficult to care. When you lifted your head, he wrapped a fist around the base of his shaft and started jerking himself off. He forced your head back to his cock, you let him fill your wet cavern with his tip. You knew he was close, his moaning was like music to your ears.

“Hnng. – fuck – fucking hell sweetheart I’m gonna fucking cum.” he announced. You hummed approvingly. “Gonna take it all aren’t you? Take all of my fucking cum you – jesus fuck - you little slutty bunny, take daddy’s cum.” he pumped his cock a couple of more times before spilling into you with a needy high pitch whine. Thick white ropes filled into your mouth and you swallowed almost instantly.

“Thank you.” you smiled sweetly, showing him the lack of cum in your mouth. He was still heaving from his orgasm. There was a sheen layer of sweat clinging to his skin, little beads dripping down his forehead.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” he spoke, it sounded like more praise. Like he was impressed with you. The thought of making him proud went straight to your aching cunt. He took a few more moments to settle himself down and regain his composure. When his breathing steadied, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you onto his lap. He kissed you deeply while you positioned yourself to straddle him on the driver’s seat. He slowly unbuttoned the bottom of your corset, revealing your lacy black panties that resided underneath. He pushed them to the side and ran a single digit up the length of your slit. The feeling made you shudder and collapse your body onto his.

His cock was back to full mast, he used the tip head to explore your folds before plunging into you.

“Hnng… Daddy…” you mewled, earning a scoff from the blonde.

“You’re like that huh? A slut for daddy like that? Get yourself off,” he commanded, “Go on, get yourself off on daddy’s cock.”

You descended onto his length and he sat snugly at your cervix. You wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He pulled down the front of your corset, wanting to watch your tits bounce as you used him to get off. He used his tongue to dance over your left nipple and a free hand to roll your right one between his finger and thumb. The occasional pinch forcing you to clench around him. You were bouncing on him, taking him so well. He took a moment to look at your face, admiring the way your eyes scrunched and lips pouted as little ‘ooo’ sounds escaped.

“That’s it baby girl, just like that.” he smiled. The sweet pet name was enough incentive to make you pick up the pace. Raising higher and sinking lower on his fat cock, each vein hitting every sweet spot inside of you. You could feel the car rocking. But you didn’t care. No one would know, no one could see, no one could hear.

“D-daddy, oh! Oh daddy! Fuck!” you cried.

“Yeah babe, just like that. Juuuuust like that baby. Fuck you’re such a good slut for daddy aren’t you?” he told you. His fingers dug into the supple flesh of your hips, and you’re sure tomorrow they’ll turn into beautiful blue blooms to remind you of who you belonged to tonight. He started meeting your motions, thrusting up inside you and hitting deeper than you could by yourself.

“Hnng. Keigo! Gonna, gonna cum daddy!” you practically shouted, the feeling of the coil within you coming undone. He couldn’t respond, he had reached his peak for the second time and was soiling your insides. But you didn’t stop, he didn’t stop either. He wanted to fuck his seed further into you, his bruising thrusts were relentless.

“Good girl, you can do it. Doing such a good job f’me.” he told you.

Within seconds he felt your cunt clamp him in, he didn’t think he had anything more to give you but the feeling of your glorious snatch trapping him unravelled him once again. Depositing more of his load into your tight pussy. You collapsed on him once again, moaning into his ear as you came around his cock. You moved your body back slightly to look at him, kissing him deeply. Your tongue massaging his as you carried on panting into each other. You carried on warming his cock, but parted your bodies slightly so you could calm down. He looked down at where the two of you were connected and snickered.

“What a pretty little mess you made.” he commented. When you looked there was a mixture of his cum and your slick stuck to his trousers. You looked at him, innocently batting your lashes.

You had officially made the list of bunnies that Keigo had fucked. But you had a feeling you’d be on an even more exclusive list of bunnies that Keigo wants to fuck more than once.

I hope you enjoyed your shift as a playboy bunny!! Thanks so much for taking part in this event I hope this was worth the wait!! Mwah mwah xxx

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vickyskpopkingdom · 3 years

Text

Baekhyun :: working blues

request: Hii! Im rlly into baekhyun's new album rn and i was hoping u could write a fluff where ur just having a rough day and he sings u to sleep pls!! Rlly like ur fluff writes btw 💕💕

thank you so much for your kind words! i haven't written about exo in a long, long time but i hope that you still like what i came up with!

warnings: overworking, stress

1.8k words, gn reader

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

Sometimes you felt like the world was collapsing on you. The weight on your shoulders got too heavy at times and you were just tired. So tired, so tired. Today was one of those days.

The work you had to do didn't seem to end. At this point you couldn't even count how many e-mails you had answered, how many texts you have read, how many calls you made and how many words you have written. Your eyes were so tired they started to water at the sight of the bright screen of your laptop in front of you. When had it become so dark around you? Hasn't it been noon just a few minutes ago?

A quick glance through your bedroom window and towards the clock on your wall told you something different. It was already eight p.m., the streetlamp outside your window was the only source of light right now other than your laptop. With a sigh you leaned back into your chair and tried stretching your arms as well as your neck and legs. Every joint in your body seemed to make a protesting cracking noise and as you tried to massage your neck, your muscles burned with protest.

You sighed again. Maybe you really should invest in one of those fancy office chairs that claimed to be a blessing for your whole body. At the thought of the price however you shook that thought out of your head.

Standing up you got through another round of stretching your whole body and decided to check out the kitchen for food. It only hit you as the dim light of the fridge illuminated your face that you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. Empty shelves greeted you back and your stomach grumbled angrily.

You tried hard not to scream out of frustation. Nothing wanted to work your way these days and you were honestly so tired of it. For some time you were able to tell yourself that everything would work out and that you would find your working blues again but that was yet to happen. Quietly you closed the fridge door again, sliding down against it to the floor.

The project you had been assigned at the start of last week was way more complicated than you had anticipated, the sources you were thinking of using turned out to be a scam. Adding to that the promotion you had been so sure of getting had been given to someone else and while you could understand that they deserved it, you were sure that you would have deserved it as well. Not only was your fridge emtpty but you had been neglecting your healthy eating habits for quite some time now, which only frustated you more.

And today all of these things seemed to add up all at once, crushing you under their weight.

When was the last time you really had a good nights sleep? You had worked late and gotten up early, eating only bits and pieces of instant food, sitting at your desk all day and falling into bed only to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Right now you were fighting to keep the tears at bay but the merry-go-round in your head kept spinning, piling up more and more worries.

When was the last time you had seen your friends? When was the last time you even properly talked to them? You were always telling them that you were busy with work when they asked to hang out. They never pressured you to still come with them but you knew that they would love to see you again even for a few hours. Yet you still could not get yourself to take their invitations, the thought of your unfinished project sitting in the back of your head constantly.

When was the last time your boyfriend--?

Just as the tears started flowing down your face the doorbell rang. Its sound surprised you so much that you jumped up, your heart beating fast. The clock in your kitchen read nine p.m. One hour went by while you were staring holes in the walls and drowned in your thoughts.

You couldn't really think of a reason why someone would visit you this late, on a weekday nonetheless. But not answering the door wasn't an option either, you would just start to worry about 'what-ifs'. So you decided to take a peak through the peephole in your door.

Your heart picked up its pace at you saw a familiar face illuminated by the light of a smartphone-screen, lookin worried and confused. Fumbling with your keys you opened the door and the person looked up from their phone.

"Hey Bambi, are you okay?"

Baekhyuns voice filled your ears as soon as he looked into your face. He eyed you up and down, making sure you were alright. "I texted and tried to call you for at least two hours now. There was no reaction from you whatsoever."

As you allowed him to step into your home, you sighed. "Sorry, I threw my phone across the room at one point and didn't pick it up again."

Your boyfriend chuckled as he got rid of his shoes and coat, placing both neatly onto their usual spots in the entrance of your flat. Just the sight of him, doing everyday things, smiling, talking was an instant boost for your mood. Now that he was here you fully realized just how much you had missed his presence.

"Why would you throw your phone?", Baekhyun questioned.

You made a dismissive move with your hand, not wanting to talk about the infuriating call you had to make a few hours ago. "I was frustrated", you only said.

Together you and Baekhyun made your way towards your bedroom. Just as you stepped into the room and turned on the lights you remembered the state you left your working place in. But it was too late to make him turn around now. Quickly you tried to tidy up the place a little bit, hiding the traces of your overworking as Baekhyun cleared his throat to gain your attention.

"Are you drowning yourself in work again?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't the first time he had seen you piling up work on your shoulders and ending up being unable to do anything else. Back then you had promised him to take better care of yourself or at least take real breaks once in a while to catch a breath.

"Maybe...."

Now it was Baekhyuns turn to sigh. "Did you eat today? And before you answer i mean 'eat a proper meal'."

Picking up your phone from the floor you sat yourself down on the bed. "No, not really. It's just this project..."

Baekhyun shook his head at you, but you still noticed the small smile on his face. "You are such a hard-working person. But you need to allow yourself some time to breathe, you know?"

His voice was calm, sounding like music to your ears. Even after all this time you had been in a relationship with him you were still surprised by how easily he could make you relax.

"Yes, I know."

"And since I am such a caring and awesome boyfriend", he said, rustling with a plastic bag you only now noticed in his hands, "I brought you some food."

As you looked into his smiling face you couldn't help but ask yourself how you got so lucky.

The meal was good, it was your favorite and having Baekhyun by your side made you feel even more grounded. It almost felt like you gained new energy after a week of complete exhaustion and constant worrying. While you were eating the both of you talked about everything and nothing, catching up, telling stories and sharing your newest netflix suggestions.

The evening proceeded and your eyes landed on the clock again. It was late, if you were still caught up in your workaholic-lifestyle you would have already been asleep right now. However surprisingly you currently were not even close to worrying about getting up the next morning. What bothered you most right now was that this evening would end and eventually you would have to go to sleep an wake up in the morning, getting back to your work.

Baekhyun seemed to notice the frown on your face sooner than you could hide it again. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "This is nice, simply being together with you. But you probably have to leave soon and then tomorrow I have to work on this stupid project again."

"I can stay the night, if you want me to of course."

"I didn't want to pressure you into--"

"You didn't", he interrupted you, before you could end the sentence and feel like you made him stay against his will, "I actually wanted to ask if I could stay anyways. Tomorrow is one of my free days. I could even keep you company while you work."

Your chest felt warm at his words. "I would love that."

Soon you two found yourselves back in your bed, bodies entangled with each other, quiet breaths sounding through the room. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but as soon as you closed your eyes all you could think of was the next morning, the project, the unanswered emails, the calls.

"Still can't calm down, Bambi?", Baekhyun whispered in your ear, while slowly stroking your hair.

With closed eyes you shook your head. "I can't take my mind off of work."

The next thing you heard was quiet humming coming from Baekhyun. You could feel the vibration of his vocal chords against your own body. His voice really was a blessing for everyones ears, he could carry emotions through singing that you weren't even able to put into words. His songs made you happy, they made you cry occasionally, they made you feel calm or made you miss something you didn't even knew existed. It was a gift.

His humming transformed into words, calmly sang into the otherwise dark and quiet room.

It's a night filled with a single stream of light

You're my timely rain, Bambi

I don't want to waste even a second of this night just

being the two of us

As you listened to his singing, you could finally feel your muscles relaxing, your brain calming down and your whole body drifting towards sleep. There were no worrysome thoughts turning your mind upside down anymore, there was only Baekhyun and his voice filling your head with images of your favorite places, your favorite memories and him. The warmth of his body under the blankets made you feel safe, at home. This was were you belonged.

And while Baekhyun continued with the song you fell into a deep sleep, one that you deserved after all the work you had done. You already knew that you found your blues again. Everything would work out again, just like you had always thought yourself. And all you had needed was just a small push in the right direction from the right person.

I don't want to wake up from this dream, keep this tempo

I hope the sun doesn't rise while I keep my eyes closed

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

I really hope you enjoyed this one! It was nice to write something again but I do feel like i am a little bit out of training i guess haha

and also if you feel like the reader in this scenario, please remember that there will be better days & that life is more than working day to day! take a break, make some tea, get some fresh air and get back to your work with a fresh mind; you can do it!!

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekyhun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #x reader #baekhyun x reader #gn reader #exo #baekhyun bambi #exo scenario #exo imagine #exo x reader #baekhyun fic

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di-kut · 4 years

Text

Baar Bal Runi: Chapter Fifteen

Series Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive!Reader

Words: 6.1K

Summary: (Body Swap AU) Din has to kill the bounty hunter who has been chasing you through space.

Rating: MA (Extreme descriptions of violence, explicit descriptions of sex)

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, death, murder, sex (m/f), fingering (female receiving)

A/N: HELLO! I’m sorry I was gone so long!! My operation went well, thank you to every single one of you. And especially for all the lovely messages and kind words I got while I was healing. My brain has been foggy since then but babey we are back in business. AND WE ARE HERE TO ABSOLUTELY COMMIT MURDER. As you can see this chapter we have some pretty intense warnings and a high rating so please read with caution. The read more will be at the top so anyone who wishes to avoid these can do so.

The first time Din Djarin took a life he used his hands.

The man was bigger than him. Stronger than him too, thick, meaty arms and body. Din was glad for his helmet, so that man could not see his face. Could not see his scared eyes beneath. But Din could see his eyes, the slaver’s eyes. His cargo ship had been packed so full of children they could barely fit to sit next to each other in the hull. Scared and bound. Some of them were older, Din’s age, their faces streaked with dirt and blood and sweat. The Mandalorians had found them on an almost uninhabited planet making a stopover before a jump to hyperspace, some of the children left out in the hot sun, their hands tied in front of them and squinting. One of them sobbing. And Din was ready to complete his passage, and so while the Mandalorians helped the children from the hull onto their ship they took Din’s blaster and shoved the captured slaver at him, encased on all sides by helmeted warriors, just like the spars in the covert. But this was no spar. And Din had no blaster. His ears were ringing and making him dizzy. His blood was pumping so hard in his hands he had to ball them into fists to keep them from shaking. The slaver was watching him still, spat at his feet some taunt.

Din does not remember what the man said anymore.

Din remembers thinking that he took too long. Remembers being scared enough that he made mistakes he never would in the covert. So that the man was able to grab him by his swinging arm and pull him close enough to beat his fist against the side of Din’s helmet. The sound of the ringing made it hard to think, hard to see. Misstepped again and the slaver’s boot connected with the side of his knee. Grabbed his arm agains and wrapped both his meaty fists around Din’s wrist, got the spot between his glove and his Beskar. Snapped it with a sound which made Din sick, felt like his arm is being crushed from his broken wrist to his shoulder. Felt it in the backs of his teeth. He heard the same chanting in his head, over and over. At kyr’amur ures suvarirar cyriror at ijaat cyay. At kyr’amur ures suvarirar cyriror at ijaat cyay. At kyr’amur ures suvarirar cyriror at ijaat cyay. The voices of the Mandalorians speaking for his passage. He must kill a man with his hands and understand what it is to take a life. He must be able to look a person in their eye before he kills him. To feel the power he holds over them. All people. All things. And then they will give him his blaster again.

The slaver hit him against the side of his helmet again, slapped it with an open palm. Din’s wrist burned. He stumbled and almost hit the ground. Swiped at the slaver and it made the huge man laugh, cruel and mean and ugly. His teeth were two perfect straight lines. Din caught his arm on another swipe and pulled him forward, managed to throw the man off balance. Tripped him and pushes him to the ground. The slaver was big, and he hit the ground hard. Din felt it move the earth beneath him in a tremor. Clambered on top of him before the man could move again, get the upper hand again. His fist glanced off the man’s ear.

The slaver rolled and Din’s back hit the dirt. Sent a cloud of dry dust into the air around him. His Beskar still made him heavy and awkward then. Reduced his reach and made him slow. He was not yet used to accounting for it. The slaver smacked him again. Mean again. Laughed at the sound of his palm against the metal. Taunted him. Din thought he would die then. Saw the helmets of his brothers watching him, hovering just out of reach. They did not move to help him when the slaver tried to wrap both his fists around Din’s neck. There were no children anymore, all of them carried away. The sky was blue and blazing. The sun was hot. The slaver had spittle between his lips that hit the visor of the helmet when he laughed. Din thinks the man said something to him then as well, but he cannot remember the words anymore. Only the sound of the man’s voice. The shadow of him looming over him in the dirt on some planet far away from home. A dark shape against a bright sky, his death the same as his last memory of his parents, and death was laughing at him. All around them the Mandalorians are silent.

Din doesn’t know how he managed to kick his leg out, to loop his knee high enough that he could roll them, sudden and sharp. Forced the slaver on his back into the dust. His right hand still burned, his right arm, the limb pulsing, but while the man was surprised Din grabbed him by his hair and beat his head into the ground. Over and over and over again. The dull thudding became wet. The blood leaked out over the grey dust and turned it to mud. Splattered over his pants and his boots and his gloves. Over his Beskar.

When Din finally stumbled to his feet the back of the slaver’s head was shattered. His hair and flesh and bone mixed in with the mud beneath him. His eyes don’t see anything anymore. Stare into nothing. The man was not scared, he did not have time to be scared. The Mandalorians around them disperse, all murmuring the same thing under their breath. At kyr’amur ures suvarirar cyriror at ijaat cyay. The sigils on their pauldrons caught the bright light on the desert planet, glinting in the sun. The Death Watch. The Mandalorian who raised him, who took him from his dead parents stepped forward and rested a hand on Din’s arm again, nodded grimly. He handed him back his blaster. Din was still glad for his helmet so that the warriors could not see the tears on his face.

Din has no blaster now.

And the bounty hunter cannot see the smile on his face. Even leaned in towards him, head tilted. The same cruel smile on his face that the slaver had. That men who like to hurt people get. A twisted sort of smile. He’s tapping Din’s blaster against the helmet in mock thought. Clicks his tongue and laughs. Din tries to remember what the slaver said to him, leaned over him in the desert, ready to kill him. Behind the bounty hunter, lightning flashes on Barab I. The light dances over the helmet and reflects in the man’s dark eyes, plays over his skin, bright and silver. Makes the man look empty and white and pale. Like a corpse. Din does not move, even when the bounty hunter holsters the gun and reaches both hands towards the edges of the helmet.

“You even awake in there, huh Mando?” He asks.

Din waits until he’s leaned in close enough that he can hit him. Snaps his head forward, slams the top of the helmet against the bounty hunter’s nose with a thick, wet sound. Breaks it. Makes the man scream. Din shifts his weight onto his braced leg, pushes to stand. Feels weak and heavy in the armour after months, feels the burn in his legs. The man stumbles away but Din is faster, and his foot hits him over where his forearms are cradling his broken nose. Again in the middle of his chest when the man swings his arms to try and catch his balance. When the bounty hunter falls into the water the splash covers him completely. Tries to push away through it until Din’s boot connects hard with his temple. The bounty hunter slumps forward, face down, bubbles streaming into the shallow water around him. Din’s hands still bound behind his back. He steps on one of the man’s shoulders and stomps, right in the middle of the man’s neck, on his spine. And the bounty hunter goes still.

Din pants, sways for a second, the water around his ankles lapping against his boots like little waves. Feels too big, too heavy, like he might sink into the water and drown. The Crest is open like a cavern, dark and silent. A sight which used to be so familiar, and it fills him with dread. There should be your gentle voice, talking to the child, the loud coos in return. The lights on. The tinkering sound of your tools – always working. Always fixing. It takes him too long to remember how to move, and when he does his legs feel wrong beneath him. Like they are not a part of the rest of him. Bends over the dead bounty and has to try to find the release for the cuffs backwards, his hands behind him. Takes too long. Everything takes too long. But then he finds the small control, in a pocket of the man’s belt, and he releases the cuffs. Drops them into the water with the dead man. He flexes his hands, clenches them into fists, over and over as he walks towards the open ramp. Replays everything he can remember – the Barabels, your hand in his, the glint of the red clay on the Beskar, the dark smudges like blood on the metal. The tunnels. The rush of adrenaline when he’d realised too late the bounty hunter was already behind him.

And then nothing.

He stumbles up the ramp. The world spinning beneath him, all around him. Din has to lean a hand against the door when he gets close enough to try and find his feet beneath him. The hull is upturned completely. Crates shoved and fallen, open and spilling their contents over the floor. Strapping half pulled away. The cot in the corner without its mattress is overturned and shoved against the far wall beneath the ladder. Inside he can see it now, the flashing green light of the chryofreezer blinking in the dark. His heart fills his mouth. Catches his boot in the grating to get to it, visions of your face frozen, screaming, staring out at him. But before he reaches the ‘freezer he sees the slumped shape on the ground. Still and unmoving. A smaller shape, the shape of long ears peaking over it.

“No.” The word feels like its torn out. Doesn’t mean to say it. Doesn’t choose to start moving but he is halfway there, every flash of green illuminating more. “No, no. No.”

He doesn’t feel the impact of the floor against his knees, or the way the grating digs through the leather of his gloves. His hands shake. Your head is twisted against the floor and facing away from him. The braid pulled away and hair covering you. Your arm is bent badly beneath you and legs twisted. You don’t move even when his hand gently grips your shoulder and begins to turn you. He sees faces before he sees yours – his parents. Silhouetted against bright, white light. He doesn’t remember what they look like anymore. Not really. But he sees the doors closing over him and the creeping darkness at the edges of him, under the Beskar, under the helmet. Cold and dark and airless. Unescapable. Sees a pile of sightless helmets staring at him from the ground. He can’t breathe. Hears the rings of a mallet against metal like a gong and it hurts. Rings in his ears even though it is not real.

He rolls you back, one shoulder cradles against his knees. Your face is thin and grey. He rips the gloves off, fumbles with them with his shaking hands. He can see the child now too, resting in the crook of your bent legs. See the little rise and fall of his chest and he knows his son changed you back. Reaches over you to rest a bare hand against the child’s belly to feel the life in him. Sighs in relief then the child is warm and snoring. And then he turns back to you, keeps rolling you as gentle as he can. Pulls your twisted arm from beneath you and wraps his hand around it. There is no glove to reach beneath, just the cold, damp skin of your wrist. Half your body wet, your hair wet. Like you were dragged through the water. He doesn’t know if it happened to you or to him.

“Please,” Din whispers.

And the jagged sound of his voice catching breaks through the vodocor like a rip through the air. Digs his fingers in hard against the skin of your wrist. Begins to count the seconds of nothing, of just cold. And then finally a beat. He cries out. Something which isn’t quite Mando’a or anything else.

He can’t take it. The helmet feels too tight. He feels like a child again, like he had for the first few lonely years when the helmet suffocated him and hid him from the world. Din yanks it away and gasps in the cold, wet air in the hull. Filled with the taste of the rain outside. Smells sharp and damp. The side of his head hurts, and his back and legs. The familiar hurt of a fight and he wonders how long he was unconscious in your body before the child had changed you. How much you had to do without him. He gathers you up, your body rolling and limp, both arms around your chest and shoulders and he thinks he will collapse into you. Your head falls back and he tucks a hand beneath it. Buries his face into the skin of your neck to feel the pulse there against his cheek. Realises he can smell the warmth of your skin.

“Ni ceta,” he says against your collar. Tries to hold you tighter. “Ni ceta, ner Karta.”

There is so much light everywhere. Hurting against the backs of your eyelids. And noise, distant voices and machines and droids. Everything feels like it is swimming before you, just out of reach. You think that maybe you are dreaming, but the world slowly becomes more solid. More tangible. You can smell the sourness of stale air and alcohol. And the beeping is unbearable. High and constant and too fast. You try to close your eyes again, to drift, but once the world starts to focus it does not relent. Reels you back into it. And memories follow – thoughts. Realise you are in a medcenter, the white walls and sterile smell. The Barabels and the bounty hunter. And Din. The child. The worry does not come yet but you know it will.

“How are you?”

You struggle to turn your head. The woman is blurred and watery and your eyes won’t focus. She steps closer and you see the shape of a smile on her face.

“You’re in the medcenter on Gamorr. I’m just checking your vitals, okay?” Her voice is even and calm. You feel her hand against your arm and its warm and soft. Makes you jolt. The armour. The helmet. “I’m not going to hurt you. Won’t be a minute.”

The rooms begins to spin. Panic tastes like bile in the back of your throat. When you try to speak your throat burns. “Where – ”

“He had to go run an errand, he said.” The nurse wraps something tight around your arm. Smiles again and waits. And then she unwraps it and sets it aside. “He’ll be back any minute I’m sure, left early this morning. We weren’t expecting you up so soon.”

She lifts your hand in hers and it is too small. Your arm is too small. She squeezes it once and lays it back on the bed next to you, limp and useless. You twitch your fingers. The nurse smiles at you, she says something else but you don’t hear it. Too busy staring at your hand on the sheets. Trying to place why it looks so wrong. Trying to stop the wave of panic that you are without the helmet, and the armour, and that Din is gone. That you are stuck on some distant planet without him. But before it mounts, chokes you, the door hisses open behind the nurse and there is a glint of silver in the light, and the familiar sound of the soft kiss of metal on metal, and the darkness of the visor finds you quickly. The Mandalorian. Din. Your small hand suddenly makes sense, the lightness around your head, around your chest. The nurse squeezes your arm with a smile and slips from the room behind him. And Din doesn’t move even when the door closes, or in the heavy moments which follow. The room thick and tense and filled with something you can’t name.

“Gotabor’ika?”

The vodocor makes his voice chip and shimmer in the static. But it is him, and your eyes well with tears. A harsh sound of relief torn from the back of your throat. And then he’s moving, so fast it makes your spin, the armour slipping and unreal in the bright lights. His hands around your jaw, in your hair, and the helmet pressing lightly against your forehead. You feel yourself roll as his weight dips the bed. Wrap your weak arms between you and around his shoulders. Hear the soft sigh slip from beneath the helmet – too quiet for the modulator to register, warm without the distortion.

“Ner Karta,” he murmurs. Rocks the helmet slightly against your forehead, the cool of the metal pressing against your brow. “Ner Karta.”

“Din.” You don’t know what else to say to him, so you say his name again. And again and again and he holds you tighter. Until the Beskar against your forehead warms to match you. Until the warmth of his fingers seeps through the leather gloves against your cheeks and jaw and neck.

You spend a week in the medcenter, the nurses are diligent and kind. And Din stays with you most of the time. At nights he leaves to be with the child, left in the care of the mechanic who manned the dock. The days move slow and fast all at once, time measured between check-ups. You sleep for much of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. And when you are awake you can feel always the dim throbbing of the blow at the back of your head, feel the raised ugly shape of the skin peeled away from the force of it. But even that starts to get better. You expect Din to be skittish, eager to move on as he always is, but he seems at ease. He sleeps as well, with his legs stretched out before him in the medcenter chair beside your bed, his arms folded over his stomach. You smile at the tilt of his helmet. The lip of it resting against his chest plate.

You move around as much as you are able, walk in circles around your small room. Think it must have cost Din a small fortune in credits to pay for a private one. But you don’t say it to him, don’t dare to bring up the cost, or ask him how you got there. A conversation you are not ready to have yet, even when he gives you his arm to help you when you are unsteady, or his gloved hand hovers at your waist when you stand shakily from the bed. Instead you think about what his voice sounds like when you know he is smiling, or the dry twist in it when he is joking. Distracts you from the nightmares of him lying, limp and cold and wet in your body, dragged and dumped against the floor of the Crest. Nightmares where he has no pulse. Nightmares of the poison in your side slowly killing you as you sleep.

And then it is time to leave. Din is quiet as you gather your small bag. Passes you your spare shirts from where he had folded them while you slept, and you smile and thank him. The Beskar seems to slip in and out of focus, reflections of the white walls and ceilings and floors make him seem only half there. A ghost. You are worried if you lose sight of him he will be gone forever. But he holds your bag for you and leads you from the medcenter. Through the streets of planet and back to the dock. He stops for you, several times, to check you are okay. And you always are. Close at his heels. The walk feels longer than you know it must be, still recovering from the blow to the back of your head, and the week of barely moving. Din slows his pace to match yours, and he doesn’t say anything but his body speaks of patience. His hand hovering at your elbow when you need to pause, and as you walk up the ramp.

There’s a loud coo and a thump against your boot. The child screams with delight, slapping his hands against your leg and climbing, slipping and climbing again over the laces to try and reach for you. Din stops you from leaning down and scoops the child into his arm, holds him close enough that as soon as you are close enough the baby grabs at your hair and then your jaw. Presses his forehead into your cheek and giggles.

Laughter had never felt so good, so light. You nuzzle back against the child, and feel Din’s glove clad hand brush your shoulder. Feel, for the first time since waking in the medcenter, like the world isn’t about to slip away between your fingers. Din passes you the child and moves away, sets your small pack down in the hull. And it is then that you notice it – the bunk which had been overturned, the mattress ruined from blood is upright again, and covered in new bedding. A thicker blanket and a fluffy, full looking pillow. A new mattress. You had not realised that you thought you would go on sleeping with Din in his quarters until you see your own space set out for you. And you know you should be grateful that he had gone to the trouble to make it so accommodating for you, the bedding nicer than his own.

He sees you staring. And you feel the buzzing all around him of things he wants to say. Wonder if his face pinches the same way it had in your body beneath the helmet when he was struggling with words. But he says nothing.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, nod at the bunk so he knows what you mean.

Din nods once, slowly. You wait for him to say something but he does not. And you don’t know how to tell him you don’t want to be alone. You clutch the cooing child tighter to your chest and nod back. Din helps you to settle in and then he disappears to pay for docking and to prepare the Crest to leave. The child stays with you, clambering over you and over the new bed, cuddling himself in under the blankets and squealing when you play at hide and seek with him. Din finds you in the middle of the game and rests his hand on your shoulder, asks if you’re ready to leave. And you nod at him, stare into the darkness of the visor. Feel adrift without knowing what expression moves him beneath. And then he is gone again, his cape hitting against the wall as he disappears up the ladder.

The child sleeps in your bed, curled beside you on your pillow. And even though you feel the weight of the day in all your limbs and in the cloud filling your head you cannot sleep. Lay awake in the darkness, time stretching all around you and warping and making seconds feel like hours, and watch the way the child’s belly rises and falls beneath the covers. You force yourself not to move, to try to sleep, until suddenly you can’t bear it anymore. Until you feel like you are going to come out of your skin if you do not move.

Climbing the ladder is hard, but you relish the feeling of using your limbs again. And the burn in your muscles from being stagnant so long distracts you from your nightmares, haunting you now while you are awake. Don’t hesitate outside the door, press it open and look up, find him immediately in the pilot’s chair. You stop in the doorway and stare. Watch the glint of light of the Beskar as the Mandalorian turns to look at you. Feel the lifting feeling along your back and shoulders and neck. His gaze, the same feeling and the old feeling, melting into one.

“How are you?” His voice is deep, calm and steady. You see him here, in front of you. On the shop on Batuu. In the tunnel, his blaster pointed at the kid. “Gotabor’ika?”

You can’t stop the well of tears at the familiar name. Feel like everything is rising up in the back of your throat and forming a lump. The Mandalorian moves to stand but you wave him down. Sniffle and step into the door to allow it to hiss softly closed behind you. Have to stare at a spot on the ground to centre yourself.

“Are you okay?” He is so gentle when he asks. So warm. You nod slowly and wipe a tear which spills. He shifts in his spot. “You don’t have to be okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be.”

“I – ” You have to stop, or you will begin to cry in earnest. You take a shaking breath. “I thought he killed you. I thought – I thought – ” You glance at the helmet, staring back at you. And it is more comforting than anything you have ever seen before. A sob lodges itself in your throat and traps the words before they can be said.

“He didn’t.”

You shudder. “I know. I know, but – ”

But you don’t know what. You feel the ghost ache of a loss which is not real. But it still hurts, still makes your chest shudder with every breath because you had thought he was dead when the bounty hunter had dragged his unconscious body back into the Crest. Felt like everything inside you had been taken and ripped out when he’d dropped to the floor. And even though he is here now and he is him and you can see your reflection wobble in the Beskar. And he is just staring at you, making the hair along your arms and the back of your neck stand on end.

You stare at him as well, both your chests heaving, the space around you bouncing with the sounds of your breathing. Your hands are shaking. You move together, lock the door behind you while he pushes out of the pilots chair and meet in the middle. Slam into each other so hard it almost hurts. His hands pushing your hair back from your face, gloves snagging in your braid. You feel over the chest plate, the pauldrons. Grabbing at him and pulling his body towards yours. Move his hands to the buttons at the top of your shirt while you yank and your belt. He can’t get at the buttons, growls, yanks his gloves off and then has them. Pops them open with practised ease. You remember he has worn this shirt as well. Your shirt and belt hit the ground at the same time, the echo against the metal flooring makes you shiver. Stare down at Din’s bare hands gripping your waist so tight the skin beneath is turning white. His knuckles are white.

“Is this - ?”

“ – Yes. Please, Din.” Put your mouth on the fabric over his throat and breathe hot against it. Know he can feel it beneath, feel the breath against his skin.

His hands tighten to bruise, pulls you against him, feel the burn of the cold Beskar on your arms. Your vest is enough to stop the worst of it against your breasts and stomach but it makes you tremble a sigh. Then Din pushes you away, only slightly, enough that he can let you go and work at his own belt, only managing to undo the buckle and leaving its length looped around his waist. Your whole body throbs when he grunts.

Then he’s holding you again, yanking you forward and walking backwards. Lifting. He sits down hard and pulls you with him, a tangle of legs and arms falling back into the pilot chair again. You have nowhere else to go, to put the burning feeling, so you press your mouth up his neck, over the helmet. Everywhere you can reach you kiss him. Scrabble aimlessly over his clothes for purchase, for anything. Burning at the Beskar, burning that you could have lost each other. You realise you are saying his name between each kiss, with every kiss, over and over and over. Don’t realise until he is saying your name, hands moving from your waist over your thighs, resting either side of his, shoved against the chair, back up over your sides to hold your face. Holding you steady to watch him.

“I’m here,” he says. Voice crackles through the vodocor. “I’m here, Kar’ta. We’re safe. The kid is safe.”

You are panting. Shaking all over. You want to ask him what the new name means, but not now. Feel like the heat of him under you and against your jaw is the only thing holding you together. “The bounty hunter – ”

“Dead. He’s dead.”

“I know but – ”

His fingers dig into your scalp, along your cheekbones and over your ears. “I will never let anyone hurt you. I promised. I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

You choke and can’t say anything, so you let yourself sink into him. Mouth at the fabric over his neck again and writhe in his lap, push your hips over his until he pushes up and back and one of his hands cups the back of your head closer to him and the other falls to the curve of your ass and rolls your hips forward, sets his pace to match yours. Keep going until your legs are shaking and trying to reach him through the fabric at his neck isn’t enough. Until you could cry that you can’t be close to him anymore.

“Pants,” he says to you, begins unbuttoning them for you.

You stand, shaking, only for as long as it takes to kick them off and then he is yanking you back into his lap again, hands harsh. Still not enough. You hold him beneath his pauldrons, digs your fingers into the lip of the metal so hard it bites against your nails. His fingers find your centre, your clit, and begin to work against it. Rough and almost mean with how hard he rubs at you, until you are crying out and bucking into his hand. Leaking over the crotch of his pants and smearing yourself over the tent of his dick beneath. Your hands move to his belt, begin to pull it from him. Try to pull his trousers down.

“Not yet,” he grunts.

“Yes. Yes, Din. Ready.” So worked up you are worried if he doesn’t stop you won’t be able to feel him before you finish. Need to feel him.

The hand at your hip is gone, is smacking your hand away from his trousers. And then shoves beneath you and cups your whole centre, rocks you up and forward so you fall against his chest with a sob. You feel every ridge and knuckle of his finger as he pushes it into you. Feel them over and over as he pumps in and out of you, rubs his thumb over your clit. And then another finger is inside you. Takes his time in feeling, in stretching you.

You press your mouth to where you think his must be on the other side of the helmet. Desperately hold your lips there like maybe he might be able to feel it. Don’t know whether it makes you feel better or worse. You hear him groaning through the vodocor and you are close enough to hear it slipping out from the helmet, pure and unfiltered, like gravel. Feel the helmet tip up, another open-mouthed sound coming from beneath it, push back against your mouth like Din is reaching for you as well.

And then his hand slips from inside you and you feel the pause of him stilling your hips, the bluntness of him pushing up and into you, slowly, so achingly slowly. And you squeeze your eyes so tightly shut it makes white bursts of stars dance behind your lids. Galaxies everywhere when you are with him. His hands steady you to sink down over him, and you feel now why he had taken so long to work you open with his fingers because the stretch is painful. Your mouth dips against the helmet, your lip catches where the Beskar meets the visor and you pant in time with his low grunts. Can’t think anything, can’t feel anything except the push of him between you, inside you, and the Beskar under your mouth. You aren’t kissing at it anymore, have fallen your weight against it, mouth lolled open. Let out a pitiful noise, a high-pitched whine when your hips sink finally against his and jolt. His hand squeezes the flesh of your hip.

“Din,” you gasp. “Din, please.”

You begin to pull off him again and then sink. And the sound he makes is almost feral. You push up and sink down again, just to hear it. Keep moving until his hand on your hip holds you still and he is thrusting out of the pilot’s chair into you. Forcing you to allow him to drill into you so quickly your eyes roll back. He is everywhere, everything. And you finally feel the last of the fear slip away at the snap of his hips into yours. Feel yourself melt away into it. Only the sounds of you together filling the cockpit, drowning out even the endless hum of the engine. The burn which started cold turns hot, turns liquid. One of his hands find its way back to you, between your legs, works at your clit while he pushes at a relentless pace. The other hand grabs your jaw tight enough to bruise, to hurt. Holds your head still and presses your forehead to the front of his helmet. Hear the vodocor making his grunts echo and bounce and crackle, hear just the edges of Din beneath the helmet.

You don’t have the presence of mind to tell him before your orgasm turns the bursts of white stars behind your lids to black. Everything in you so tight and pulsing, and then more because you feel him begin to thrust into you so hard you would fall if his arms weren’t holding you up. Fucks you through your orgasm until he groans and his thrusts stutter and fall, filling you. You slump into his chest plate, let him push his hips up into you over and over until he is done as well.

You feel the chest plate of the armour heaving with his breath, moving you as well. Feel like you will melt into it, into him. And the weight of his hand gentle against your back, and you realise he is gently undoing your braid. Feel too tired to even turn your head. So you sink further against him, around him. And you feel yourself begin to drift, the exhaustion creeping over you now that you are safe and you can feel Din’s breath against you, and know he is alive. Can hear him whispering quietly in Mando’a above you, and his hand pulling knots from your hair. Think you should fight it, that you should talk to him finally about everything which has been left unsaid between you for months, slowly growing even before you swapped into his body. But sleep makes your eyelids heavy as well as your limbs and you don’t feel Din move you, don’t feel him gently lift you both from the chair, keep your arms and legs wrapped around his waist.

You wake when you feel the pillows touch beneath you, and Din tug the covers of his bed over you. And you must say something because he turns around again and touches his helmet to your bare shoulder and then to your forehead.

“Sleep,” he murmurs.

And you do.

At kyr’amur ures suvarirar cuyiror at ijaat oyay: To kill without understanding is not to respect life. There is honour in fighting but not in mindless murder.

Ni ceta: I’m sorry (lit: I kneel) This is the strongest way a Mandalorian has to apologise. Extremely rare.

Ner Karta: My Heart

Tags: @btillys @vercopaanir @absurdthirst @sistasarah-sallysaidso @adikaofmandalore @babyomen @purpleeeslurpppp @fleurdemiel145 @hdlynn @starwarsiscooliguess @thedarkwitchling @no-droids-allowed @dartheldur @toilet-keeper @sinnamon-bunn @br0ther-s @that-one-weird-one @oloreaa @nellyneko @damndamer0n @space-floozy @hopplessdreamer @buckysalefty @arianawills @roxypeanut @crazyworldofsiani @scarlettvonsass @mrsparknuts @lackofhonor @lola-wolf @coonflix @datmando @datmando @katialvi @teaofpeach @heatherbel @buckstaposition @motleymoose

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #baar bal runi #force sensitive reader #pedro pascal #my writing

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weirdlyobsessedwithegos · 4 years

Text

Illinois x reader x Yancy

@ezuriel-moth-rps : Hey,,,,,,, a concept: soulmate wrist mark AU, right? But like,,, polyamorous people having a mark on each wrist. Thank u for ur time. h m. Illinois and someone? Idk who should be the other someone though. how many egos are there, RNG it

I chose Yancy since he’s my fav, and I’ve seen him being paired with Illinois several times, thought it would be interesting! And also, in this particular AU, the soulmark(s) only does something when you touch it directly, not just the person(s) you share your mark(s) with. Soulmarks can also look like pretty much anything, differs from relationship to relationship.

Having two soulmarks isn’t that unusual, but often, it could lead to questions you rather not answer.

So you would always cover one or both up in some sort of fashion, often with a fancy bracelet or simple makeup.

It didn’t help that yours was two one inch thick bands, one around each wrist. One yellow on your left and one blue on the right, so they often draws looks.

Of the two, you had met Yancy first.

You had met him in prison of all places, the both of you in there for crimes you definitely did commit, not that you ever planned on staying for long.

And you didn’t. Yancy even helps you break out of the place even though you fought him and won just a few hours prior.

As he scratches the back of his neck while he explains why he isn’t outside the fence himself, you spot a familiar color on his wrist. He must have been wearing some makeup on it, because it certainly wasn’t there before.

Transfixed, you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping whatever he was about to say as you pull his arm through the fence.

“What’se youse do-” He stops himself as he sees the color on his wrist, visible where it’s clear that his makeup had been smudged. He tries to tug his arm back, but you don’t let go, gently touching the little blue spot you can see.

“Hey, now-” He gasps as warm tingle makes its way up his arm. Looking at you with wide eyes, he gapes.

“Youse......” You nod, licking your thumb so you can use the wetness to rub away some makeup on your own wrists. Yancy lets out a shaky breath as he sees the matching blue and yellow appear.

“I.... I’s thought I’s would never find any of youse.....” He stares at your wrists as you take both of his hands in yours. You kiss his knuckles, and when you look up there’s tears in his eyes.

“Please come with me.”

“I belong here, this is my home....... For now at least.....”

“If anything, you belong with me and our other. We belong together.” You can tell Yancy is close to crying. You let go of his hands, and he pulls back.

“Maybe when parole comes up, I’ll, I’ll give it a shot.” He starts to walk backwards, yelling about visitation. You look down at your box, and when you look up again, he’s gone.

You’re alone.

You resist the urge to punch the metal fence.

--------

When you meet Illinois, is no less of a strange situation. You’re in a cave, a boulder comes rolling in, and after Illinois comes walking just behind it.

He somehow manages to convince you to go on a little adventure with him, walking backwards with confidence without getting hit by any traps, and flirting with you all the way.

You don’t really answer back much, but he keeps it up anyway.

As you re-emerge from that monkey heaven, (which is what Illinois had expained it as), you still have the banana in hand. Illinois notices, but also sees the blue band around your wrist at the same time you do.

Your makeup is completely gone (a side effect of the monkey heaven you think). Both you and Illinois freeze. Illinois carefully lifts up his left hand, and suddenly you notice the familiar yellow on his wrist.

You let your hand with the banana drop, grabbing his wrist with your matching yellow band.

The two of you stare down at your hands, as Illinois feel’s the warm tingle from his wrist travel up his arm. He twists his arm so he can grab your wrist as well, making the warm tingle travel up your arm too.

“You.....”

“Yeah...” Illinois tries to pull away, but you don’t let him, pulling him into a hug. He stiffens up, but it only takes a few seconds before he is hugging back. When you pull back, the both of you are smiling at each other.

“Who would have thought I would meet one of my partners like this huh?” His smile is faking confidence, you can tell by his eyes how nervous he is.

“And I know where our other is.” His eyes light up.

“You do?”

“Yes, and you have to help me convince him to take parole.” Illinois doesn’t seem to care to hear that one of his partners is in prison, picking you up with a big smile on his face, and spinning you around.

Something pokes you in your back when he picks you up, so when he puts you down, you look and he’s holding a rock in his hand. Illinois notices, and brings it up so you can look at it better.

“Got it from the monkeys, it’s a little less impressive than your banana.” He shakes it, and as he does so, the rock emits a bright light, disintegrating and transforming into a big diamond.

The two of you eye it in shock, before moving the focus to your banana. Carefully opening it up, you find it’s made of pure gold. You both let your gaze flicker between the two items, before busting out into laughter.

“At least it looks like we will all be provided for.” You say with a grin, Illinois nodding as he wipes a laughing tear from his eyes.

As the two of you finally manage to stop laughing, you lock eyes. Slowly, very slowly, you reach up to cup Illinois cheek, stroking your thumb gently over his skin. Illinois leans into the motion and closes his eyes, and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him.

You let the kiss be brief, just a press of your lips against his, but you almost immediately lean in for another one, which he is quick to return.

You stay like that for a few minutes, before the weirdness of the situation hits you, and you have to break away from the kiss to laugh a little.

“What?” Illinois asks, straightening his hat from where it had become slightly askew.

“I just realised how bizarre my life is. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smile at Illinois, and he returns it with a beaming smile of his own.

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

The first time you bring Illinois to visitation, Yancy is so happy, but almost burst into tears when the both of you put your hands against the plastic glass that separates the two of you from him in the little booth used for visitation. He presses his own hands against the glass, promising with a mix of laughter and crying in his voice that he promises to try for parole when it comes up.

That first meeting had ended way to soon for anyones liking, but after that, you and Illinois come every time visitation rolls around. (Yancy doesn’t let you call, since he wants to minimise the risk of anyone finding out you are an escapee, and Illinois doesn’t want any more benefits than you.)

Both of you also write him letters, ranging from talking about adventures you have had, what kind of food the other person likes, and what you want to do when he gets out.

Because he is getting out, no matter what. If he doesn’t make parole, you had threatened to break him out yourself. You did this during visitation once, causing Yancy and Illinois to laugh nervously, but you could tell they appreciated the sentiment.

You end up not needing to break him out, as a little over a year later, parole comes up, and Yancy is approved. When you read it in the letter he had sent to tell you the news, you had screamed of joy, running into the other room to let Illinois know.

Illinois had smiled the biggest smile you had ever seen, you’re convinced if it wasn’t for his ears it would have been even bigger.

So a little while later, you find yourself leaning on the hood a car outside the prison, all nervous energy and jitters. Illinois is right next to you, a warm and heavy hand on your hip a comforting weight.

The door to the building opens, and out steps Yancy. You can see he spots you, almost matching your nervous energy, but he tries to take it slow, and not full on run his way out.

As he steps out the prison gates for the first time in years, he casts one last look over his shoulder at the building.

As he turns back around, his arms are almost immediately filled with you, giving him the biggest and best hug you can. He draws in a sharp breath and hugs you back just as hard.

When he lets go of you, Illinois is standing right next to you, and he gently takes Yancy’s wrists in his hands, making the warm and familiar tingle travel up his arms.

Yancy moves his arms so he can do the same, smiling hard, trying to hold back happy tears. Illinois pulls him into a hug as well, even giving Yancy a little spin like he does with you.

Yancy laughs, and when Illinois puts him down again, Illinois plants a brief kiss on his lips. Yancy is stunned, so you step closer and lead his attention to you with a hand under his chin. Leaning in, you pause briefly, before letting your lips brush softly against his in a barely there kiss.

Yancy, seemingly snapped out of his stupor, kisses you back, only breaking the kiss so he can kiss Illinois as well. This time it’s Illinois who is surprised, but he is quick to kiss back as he regains his composure.

You have to tell them to slow down a bit, you’re still very not in the right place just yet, so they let you drag them over to the car. You give them both a quick kiss, settling in the drivers seat. They both get in the back, leaning against each other and holding hands on the whole way home as you smile at them trough the rearview mirror.

#yancy x reader #illinois x reader #illinois fic #illinois #yancy fic #yancy fanfiction #yancy #illinois fanfiction #ahwm yancy #ahwm illinois #reader insert #the reason i specified the touch thing is #cause you win over yancy in a fight #so that's skin against skin #technically #:P

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old-hyper-super-clover · 3 years

Text

Squeeze that bunny tail!

Part 1

Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.

The story is divided in several parts and will be updated every few days.

*I wrote this when the bunny UR+ cards first came out so there will be differences to the second event & their outfits

Story begins below the cut, have fun!

One fateful day, Diavolo had called his best friend Lucifer over to discuss a very urgent, utterly important matter...

"... A bar?" Lucifer repeated the prince's words.

"Yes!" Diavolo cheered.

"... And you want us to work there?"

"Yeah!"

"... Not only my brothers and me, but also all of the exchange students as well?"

"Strong yes! Barbatos and I will join, too."

"What? Are you sure? Should the prince of the Devildom really lower himself to such frivolous tasks?"

"Come on, Lucifer, it will be fun!"

Lucifer pressed out a deep sigh.

"... For you, perhaps... For me, it will be nothing but another day of babysitting a bunch of idiots..."

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

When the group arrived in the newly opened but already renowned bar, lots of them gave amazed gasps.

"It's huge!" Clover called out.

"And real fancy, too..." Mammon said, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Belphie noticed how his brother was already searching for the most expensive decoration and gave an annoyed sigh. "Mammon's having idiot thoughts again..."

"All of you" Lucifer called out to the demons and humans living in the House of Lamentation. "I expect great manner from all of you. Lord Diavolo kindly asked us to help out with the grand opening of his acquaintance's bar. As it is the first day the place is opened to the general public, the owners asked him to offer help, and here we are. I would like to say that every item that gets broken or gets STOLEN", he shot Mammon an obvious glare, "will be repaid out of your own wallet. Furthermore, I am making you aware that..."

He kept talking for an unknown (but awfully long) amount of time, until Diavolo would pull him out of his ranting.

"Lucifer, relax! This is a laid-back place, I am sure everyone will do just fine. After all, we also have our kind Angel and Human friends to help."

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow.

"Is Luke allowed to be here, though? It's an adult place, after all..."

"Wha-?!" Some angry Chihuahua noises escaped Luke´s mouth. "I'm not a child, you know! Of course I am allowed to work here, show some respect!"

Simeon next to him gave the small blond a pat on his head while trying to bring the conversation back on track.

"Thank you for inviting us, Diavolo. Shall we get started, then? We don't have much time left until the first customers arrive."

They got shown around the whole place.

It consisted of two floors to sit in or play all sorts of bar games, a dance hall and a giant kitchen, serving all sorts of treats to go along with the (mostly alcoholic) beverages to buy from one of the even more impressive bars.

"The place looks pretty tame, though" Asmo pointed out as they had finished the tour.

"You think?!" Violet blinked at him. "I think it's amazing..."

"Asmo..." Satan mumbled. "I am pretty sure the places where you are a regular at are simply a little... special."

Completely ignoring the implications in Satan´s words, Asmodeus went on to ask the owner about whether they had what he called "fun rooms", which, yes, are just what you think they are.

They had to drag him back so they could finally be introduced to their work schedule.

"The bar is opened until four in the morning" Barbatos explained. "We will be working in shifts to maintain our stamina..."

Slowly, everything important had been settled, and the first bunch was about to start their shift.

But...

Well...

All this was a happening planned with the mind of Sir Diavolo himself...

So of course it wouldn't end up being a normal evening. It never did.

Just as the group wanted to leave the kitchen-strategy-meeting, Diavolo called out to them.

"Behold!" he prompted. "Are you planning to go out looking like THIS?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, already alert at the smirk on his friend's face. "Oh no..."

Barbatos, who had shortly excused himself after explaining everything, entered the kitchen, now holding a piece of clothing in his hands.

"The waiters and waitresses at this pub are required a special working garment", Barbatos explained. "We have prepared suiting clothes in your respective sizes already."

"Cl...othes?" Violet dared to ask.

"Yes!" Diavolo beamed her a smile. "And after midnight, you change clothes once again. Those are a surprise, however, so you will have to be patient until then."

Solomon gave a contemplative hum.

"And... What are those garments, exactly?"

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

"... Violet?"

"... Clover?"

"... Do you have bunny ears in your outfit set, too?"

"... Yeah."

Silence.

They stepped out of the women's toilet stalls, mustering each other.

A frilly short skirt, a pretty blouse, a cute bow tie, and two bunny ears as well as a matching bunny tail.

"... Looks pretty good, though" Clover mumbled. "A little embarrassing, but oh well..."

They checked their outfits for a little longer in the mirror, adjusting their clothes...

"To think they'd make us wear stuff like this", Violet said.

"Yeah... Like, are we supposed to serve customers like this? And look all weird, just the two of us?" Clover played around with her new pair of ears.

"Dunno..." Violet breathed as she checked her make up. “I bet the boys will think we look…” she stopped.

Realisation hit them.

"Violet."

"Clover."

They dashed out of the bathroom.

And opening the door, they saw...

Bunny boys.

Ten of them, right there, in those... With those... Looking so…

Violet suppressed a squeal while Clover was hiding a heavy blush.

But there was no time to recover from this critical hit.

Already having spotted them, Asmodeus was bouncing towards them, his frilly, pretty revealing blouse swaying around his curves.

"Waah, you girls are bunnies, too~!"

He began to inspect them thoroughly, also pulling the attention of the other males towards them.

But with all the damn nice snacks around, the girls had troubles focussing on only Asmo as he continued to squeal something.

"Whyyyy do we have to do thiiiisss..." Levi groaned, visibly uncomfortable in his butler bunny suit.

Lucifer (very stunning view btw, chef's kiss) crossed his arms in a sigh.

"You heard Lord Diavolo... It seems to be common practice in this local to dress like this... But I'm starting to regret agreeing to help out..."

A hand gently placed on Lucifer's shoulder.

"Oh, come on, Lucy" Simeon smiled, brown bunny ears reaching out of his hair. "I think this suits you very well. You look cute."

This only pulled a greater sigh out the demon's throat, but he wasn't allowed to keep this frown any longer, as Diavolo and Barbatos joined the group soon after.

To the group's surprise, both of them were in similar suits as well.

"Wow, all of you look stunning!" Diavolo wore a big grin. "I knew it was a great idea to suggest a dress code!"

"That was your idea?!" Luke pouted, having whatever trouble with his costume (which btw was designed to be distinctively less... sexy than all of the other suits, don´t worry about the angel child). His floppy rabbit ears looked adorable, but it only added to the impression that he shouldn't be here, serving alcohol for the next hours...

"Of course", Diavolo cheered. "They say good-looking staff makes more profit, and I want this evening to be a success."

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

"I heard the place was designed to imitate a classic bar from the human world."

Initiating a conversation, Satan was preparing glasses at the bar together with Violet, Clover and a few of his brothers.

"Is it normal for the staff to look like this in the human world?" he asked, quite amused to watch the girls' bunny ears bounce with their movements. "Not that I'm complaining... I just figured you must know."

"... You´re asking US? Do we look like we party a lot?" Clover mumbled.

Violet gave a shrug. "It's kind of a... Classic costume to go with, but I don't think it's really that common with humans, too."

The demon gave a nod, then excused himself as Levi was calling for him on the other side of the bar.

And now that the girls had some time for themselves again, they could finally let out their inner fangirls.

Basically just giving weird noises, exchanging a few completely out of context words that only two minds speaking the same language of stupid could understand, they gushed about all the males surrounding them.

"Clover oh my god I-" Violet whispered in a gasp. "I love the tails."

"And the ears" Clover agreed.

"And the vests."

"The bow ties."

"But the fluffly TAiLs oh myyy..."

"Lolll I bet you wanna squish them-"

"YEEssssSSSSS..."

Afraid someone might notice, they tried calming down. But as if the universe was trying to keep them agitated, Beel happened to pass by, stopping next to them to organise the bottles in the display shelves behind them.

The girls turned, mustering the male...

Suddenly, Violet's expression curled into a sly grin, thinking of the huge crush Clover had on Beelzebub. She leaned in on Clover to whisper in her ear.

"Squeeze his tail..."

Clover's eyes widened as she started to blush.

"What?! No..." she whispered back.

"I know you want to~", Violet continued to purr in amusement.

"Sh-shut up...!" Clover grumbled.

"Come ooon..."

"Y-you do it if you're so tough...!", Clover pouted.

Her friend only gave a shrug, stepping closer to the demon as she nonchalantly reached for the bunny tail attached to his pants.

Of course, Beel noticed her presence.

"Violet?" he blinked in surprise, but apparently did not register how Violet pulled her arm back immediately.

She shot him a smile.

"Hey, Beel, could you... hand me that bottle in the upper shelf? Asmo said he needed it over there."

"Sure."

And as the male reached for the bottle, Violet took the chance to squeeze that fluffy pompom.

"Thanks" she cheered, then went to grab Clover to disappear from the scene of crime.

Violet couldn't quite wipe the victorious grin off her face.

Clover on the other hand...

"I hate everything", she pouted.

"You should have just went for it" Violet laughed. "It's like this game we used to play in the human world when everyone is wearing hats with pompoms during winter. Just that here, it’s a bunny tail that you had to squish.”

"But..." Clover sulked, like always sad that she wasn´t brave enough to do what Violet asked her to do.

So Violet mustered her friend...

Then, an idea hit her.

"You know what, actually?" Violet said. "I dare you to squish a tail."

Clover made a weird sound.

"What?! Nooo... You know I'm awkward..."

"And let's make it a game!"

"... Are you even listening to me?"

Apparently, she wasn´t.

"Whoever manages to squeeze the most bunny tails wins -- without the person noticing, of course." Violet was grinning from ear to ear.

Clover gave a big sigh.

"... The tails from either of the boys?" She finally gave in.

"Yeah, let's."

"... Would you voluntarily go up to your crush Lucifer and risk your life?"

Violet's face turned into a conflicted blush.

"I..." she mumbled in an unconvincing shrug. "Maybe...?"

"They should have different difficulty levels", Clover suggested. "Giving different amounts of points,, depending on how difficult we consider the squeeze-ability of a tail."

----------

Don't ask how or why... (And how they found the time to come up with this madness)

But in the end, the two girls had invented a game to keep them entertained for the next couple of hours.

They came up with a plan for the "bunny tail squeeze point distribution":

1 point: Beel, Belphie, Simeon, Levi (+), Asmo (+)

2 points: Mammon, Satan (+), Barbatos, Luke (V)

3 points: Lucifer, Solomon, Diavolo, Luke (C)

"The plus stands for a potential to increase in points, as those three are a little difficult to analyse. We'll count it depending on the situation and their wariness..." Clover concluded as she showed Violet the notes she had taken on a beer coaster. "And Luke's on there twice because I'm a fucking giraffe and get a bonus point if I can reach that Chihuahua’s tail. And thaaat... Would be all."

Violet squealed in excitement.

"Great, then let's go!"

Clover gave a last sigh, knowing what difficulties she'd have with this.

"This is SO going to end in some disaster..."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obeyme #short story #obey me bunny event

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straighttohellbuddy · 3 years

Note

World building is the best tbh. I’m forever world building and now I have several worlds to play in and my neurodivergent brain cannot stay still enough to focus on one lmao. SLOWBURN ROMANCES ARE MY LITERAL JAM LIKE PLS!!! I LOVE THEM!! Also!!!! Concepts!!!! Pls share!!!! I love learning about the worlds of my fave fics and I can hands down say right now that this fic will literally shoot to the top of my list of favourites which means you’ll occupy the top three spots. Sorry to hear that ur feeling rough, so am sending u the biggest hug. I’m not okay but I’m taking care of myself today so that I will be 🧡-🐈‍⬛

alsjfsldkjf i have too many worlds TBH, literally one of the best parts of my 2020 was writing for the classic rock fandom and writing one of my good friend’s ocs alongside mine, like there’s so many different worlds that our two characters have now, i’m like 26k deep into a high school au that i need to get back to at some point, and then i wrote a oneshot abt the high school au but they’re adults, and then there’s also the original timeline, and then there’s the present day in the original timeline where they have kids and i probably care too much about people who aren’t real...... hahaha

OKAY OKAY OKAY HERE WE GO I’LL GIVE KIND OF AN OVERVIEW OF THE ALBUMS AND A FEW SONGS BUT IF U WANT ME TO GO IN DEPTH ON ANY OTHER SONG JUST ASK!!!

yes i have a playlist for each, if you wanna hear how i interpret the vibes of the songs. if you interpret them differently, thats awesome!! i’d love to hear y’all’s opinions on them!!

testing one two - the first ep they release, the song titles are mostly themed (fast forward, press play, pause, rewind), but are mostly things y/n has been working on for a while but never got around to finishing, things they are rather proud of. i see you shiver with... is the first song they wrote specifically for the album, and it’s the last song on the EP because it’s a Rocky Horror reference; i see you shiver with...

a n t i c i p a t i o n - first full album!! the vibe is Hopeful But Hesitant it has all the songs from the ep, plus some new ones!! collabs with youtube musicians troye and dodie, and y/n’s label sets up a collab that turns into a genuine friendship. the breakout dance hit is what else is there to say ft. Troye Sivan, which is about not knowing what to make content about when it feels like you’ve already told the world everything. it featured the prechorus and hook

You, know, ev-ery-thing about me / gave it all for free / my life in HD / So, let’s dance, let me see your hips sway / we’re gonna be okay / what else is there to say?

So say that you love me, say that you love me, say that you love me / let’s die hand in hand. / I’ll tell you I love you, tell you I love you, tell you I love you / supply and demand.

personally, i also conceptually enjoy srs bsns which is a really upbeat song about how they don’t care if people don’t take them seriously because they know in their heart that what they’re doing is good

hyperfocus - 2nd EP, a pretty substantial departure from their usual style, but also happens to quietly be Corpse’s favourite, and is actually y/n’s most polarising, because it has both the Grammy award winning HEARTBURN and the o brother where art thou which was written partially as a joke to capture a fond moment of them and 5SOS dicking around together in a hotel. written while on tour wit 5SOS, im writing the reader as having ADHD (because I have ADHD and i can do what i want), and the backstory is that they’d changed the medication/dosage they were taking, and as it’s their first full tour, they were under a lot of stress and were in a weird place mentally and emotionally, and hyperfocus is the result of that. i’m going through some stuff has HUGE agoraphobic vibes.

HEARTBURN has the same vibes as Florence + The Machines’ Howl. It’s about being a demon without saying that or directly implying that unless you know demons real well. This is when the pressure for them to confirm their identity got real bad, and it was their way of working through those emotions.

tear in existence in the shape of a person / when i’m seeing clearly i can’t see myself / world can’t swallow what it can’t get it’s teeth into / got everything i wanted but i ain’t got my health

Got heart-burn--- / I’ll tear me apart / I’ll tear you apart / I’ll tear me apart.

SCREAM gets rereleased as a remixed single featuring Fall Out Boy the following year. It won the MTV music award for best collaboration in 2018.

In the time between hyperfocus and working on it, Y/N releases several singles, including a cover of Tell Him by The Exciters to be featured in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. They also take time to sort out their health, do a little bit more YT stuff, and travel internationally to do festivals.

working on it - is kind of a middle ground between their original stuff, and hyperfocus, like pop-punk meets horror-pop meets whatever you’d classify halsey as. the first three songs were mostly written before the fic starts, so before they’re getting back to YT, but the last three, nightmare scenario, designed to hurt (touch me), and not scared were all written after they’d started hanging out with sykkuno and corpse.

in-universe, imposter syndrome was originally something else, along the same lines of tired that they’re hiding that they’re a demon, but after meeting corpse nd sykkuno and having people who know, and lowkey being influenced by corpse’s music, the song changes directions, and YO OKAY YO::

I literally am so fucking flattered, my darling friend @bingusmode wrote lyrics for imposter syndrome and I’ve been yELLING about them ever since i’ve read them!! (also bunnie is fantastic and lovely in general 10/10)

if you thought you saw me

i’d think about it twice

cuz while i know i’m naughty

everybody thinks i’m nice

cutest giggles get me

places that i long to be

but it’s not long before

everybody hates me

when you figure out i’m fucked up

you’ll probably think that can’t be right

but babe my image runs to save me

cuz i’m ugly day and night

nothing good about me

not the angel that i seem

cuz i’m a piece of shit

and i’ll ruin your fuckin dreams

i’m an impostor babe

you better run for your life

cuz there’s a bloodlust runnin through me

and you’re dripping off my knife

there’s no one here to save you

cuz you ate up all my lies

so beg me while you can

and draft up all your goodbyes

if any of y’all are inspired by anything i put out, feel free to take it and run!! you have my blessing!! i am so overwhelmingly flattered by people who like my stuff enough to create because of it, directly or indirectly! lyrics, art, songs, anything!! legit! I love you!!

okay so designed to hurt (touch me) has big House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco vibes, and YES it’s about Corpse. YES it sends mixed messages. YES it has greek myth imagery and YES that imagery is confusing. not sure if any of these sets of lyrics actually go after each other but also idk??

will my fall from grace be graceful / as each move i see you make? / propped up on pedestals side by side / beneath our feet they shake / i’m the only one to hear you ask / “What have they done to me?” / My boy, your wax throne is sun-drenched / you’ll fall in the name of your legacy.

eyes like yours watched rome burn / while hands like mine lit the pyre / we both heard me say we’d go down in flames / now you’re turning me into a liar / since you smile like that, like you can’t feel the sting / and we both know i can’t feel the fire

been telling myself i’m designed to hurt / but, baby, aren’t we a sight? /

check your reflection, your angles, apollo / you’re icarus in the right light /

we’re on the edge, i’m not scared to fall / we’ll take refuge in the night /

been telling yourself you’re designed to hurt / but, baby, doesn’t this feel right?

also, albumtouralbumtour is a reference to Bohemian Rhapsody.

OKAY AND FINALLY

n o s t a l g i a - the album the reader’s working on during the fic.

literally as i was writing this, bunnie sent through some FIRE lyrics for how the light gets in, (@bingusmode) i am going to be thinking about these on REPEAT for the next MONTH BRUV

little bit of darkness, treat me like a toy

i got my hopes up and got them destroyed

bitter taste of regret sitting heavy on my tongue

can’t believe i let you convince me that you were the one

sitting here in silence, fabric running thin

petals burning in my lungs and stealing oxygen

embers from a cigarette falling to the floor

god i can’t take anymore

so i stumble to the window and pull the shades

and the moon pours in like you threw a grenade

i can’t understand why

i keep trying

cuz i never seem to win

but having any hope is how the light gets in

from there, moment before impact ft. Billie Eilish is a club anthem along the lines of bad guy or COPYCAT, bass heavy with a drop that’s out of this world.

powdered pain, i’m in your veins / i’m the sting, the drip, the thing / you’re craving, but you hate to see me misbehaving / i heard my breakdown got you high / it’s true, but baby i can’t lie / i never got that rush, that burn / that makes you feel alive, i had to learn / to pick the slippery slope down which i fell / plan my pitstops on the way to hell / to pick my padding before i spiral / so if i break it’ll be in style

watch my misdirect, now freeze, / notice you can’t see the forest for the trees / you’re so desperate for my demise / but baby, i’ll make you watch me rise.

this is the moment before impact

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i know you hope i’m not okay / you get off on my audio misery

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i need you to know i want it this way / my breakdown won me a grammy

and this is the moment before impact

ur my favourite - interlude ft. sykkuno is probably one of my favourites, it’s just really soft, just a snippet of a conversation between the reader and sykkuno, maybe one of them told a joke and they both just sound real happy and sweet. its nice. it’s a nice moment.

means something is also for sykkuno!! it’s about how good-strange it is to be open and honest with friends, and how they usually aren’t but they’re glad they can be open and honest with him!!

meanwhile, i don’t think about u - interlude ft. CORPSE is a phonecall between corpse & the reader right after they announce they’re going to feature on acting like that, where corpse asks if they do this sort of thing to spite him, to which the reader responds ‘do i consider you when i’m making decisions about my career? no, corpse, actually i don’t think about you at all’ which then directly contrasts the song that ends the album, which is (how it feels to be) beautiful fireworks, which is essentially ‘i know how hard it is to exist like this, to be the centre of attention, to give off light and bring people joy, even when you’re in pain. i’m here for you. i love you.’

okay, i swear im done now, i’ll get back to writing the fic! (also i cannot BELIVE i managed to figure out how to embed those playlists but im so happy) edit: it didn’t actually work when i posted the ask, so anyways im sorry but y’all are abt to be spammed with playlists because i care too much abt this fic

#Anonymous #how the light gets in #corpse husband x reader #black cat anon

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 5 of 6

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Suspense/Action

Warnings - Vomitting, blood, vampire activities, violence (this one is brutal)

Summary - Vampires are creatures forced to walk upon the earth for longer than humans could possibly imagine. One would think it gets boring after a while, but not to Renjun, the foreign exchange student who seems to know a little too much about the early twentieth century.

Word Count - 3.5k

A/N - this chapter is really rough, it was a little hard to write but I desperately want to finish this series already adlhfgsk. I placed a warning bar with emojis before all the heavy stuff happens so if you don’t want to read it, just continue scrolling until you see the ending bar with the same string of emojis // @serenejaemin this is the chapter with the little stargazing scene i mentioned a while ago

After spending your first week in Jilin getting to indulge yourself in touristy activities as a way of learning more about the city, the place where Renjun grew up, you decided that you’d like to enjoy human life just a little bit longer. There were still so many things you wanted to do and Renjun had no problem in allowing you to fulfill your desires, as long as he was right by your side through it all. The only one who complained was Chenle, to which you responded “you can wait a few more months. It won’t matter once we’re like, a hundred years old, stupid.”

Summer flew by and you began seeing posts from your friends about how they were all going back to school, having their first day of college, or starting new jobs and it reminded you of when you first met Renjun only a year ago, not knowing how different your life would be just a few months later.

Speaking of which, your one year anniversary with him was coming up and he had asked you what you wanted to do, the fact that he even kept track was surprising to you, the shock evident on your face. “Love, I may no longer keep track of my own age, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still keep track of our time together” Renjun stated, almost even offended that you’d dare think he could forget your anniversary.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, but suggesting that you just want to spend time with him doing something calming. Renjun’s eyes light up as he exclaimed “ah! There’s a park I always used to hang out at. Would you want to have an evening picnic there and stargaze after?” You were more than thrilled at the idea, knowing he would enjoy it too due to his little fascination for all things related to astrology.

As you were in the kitchen making your sandwich for the ‘picnic’, because it would really just be you eating, you overheard Renjun and Haechan talking in the hallway. You couldn’t entirely make out what you were saying but you picked up on “hunters out”, “new vampires”, and “the Union” as they spoke in agitated tones, followed by Haechan yelling for Chenle and Jaemin to come out from their rooms. You weren’t sure what was going on but you didn’t mind when the other three said they’d be tagging along on your date.

The sun had just set by the time you arrived at the park, painting the sky a beautiful mixture of orange, yellow, and pink. Renjun practically demanded that the other boys stay at the playground so they wouldn’t interrupt your time together, Jaemin and Chenle mocking his tone and laughing at each other as Haechan flopped down onto the grass.

You basically had to pull Renjun away from starting a fight with them while begging him to go with you to look at the stream that ran through the middle of the park. He gladly went with you after threatening to punch Chenle and he helped you find a nice place to lie down just a little ways off from the main sidewalk near the rocks that lined the edge of the stream.

Once Renjun was lying on his back with you cuddled into his side, he starting pointing out different constellations and telling you stories about them. He let out a laugh when you managed to trace the Big Dipper, one of the only constellations you were able to recognize. “That’s a cute name for it, though most people call it Ursa Major” he explained, smiling down at you.

The conversation eventually led to some of Renjun’s previous experiences in the other places he’s lived ranging from stories of when he first met Haechan in Korea to how annoying Chenle was as a kid when he briefly stayed in Beijing with Chenle’s family. He told you about the album of pictures he had of Chenle at home and pleaded with him to show you them, Renjun only caving when you starting blowing air on his neck, causing him to scrunch up as he cringed from the odd sensation.

As you celebrate your own mini victory, Renjun took this as an opportunity to get back at you as he began tickling you, your body flailing around under his strong grip. You were too busy in trying to get away from his torturous hands that you didn’t notice that you had shifted dangerously close to a cluster of rocks nearby, yelping out in pain as your arm slammed against one of them.

You sit up quickly, pulling your arm to your chest after noticing the little droplets of blood starting to form on the fresh wound. Acting on instinct, you immediately cover it with the shirt you were wearing, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Renjun let out a whimper as his eyes ran red and his fangs extended, the scent of your blood making him lose control over his vampire instincts.

Before you could even begin apologizing and find something to bandage yourself with, you heard a gasp from the main walkway, only about ten feet away from you and Renjun. You looked over and saw the figure of a boy approaching you. He had a thing frame, similar to Renjun but he was just a little taller and slightly more broad. He was wearing a red flannel over a white shirt along with light blue jeans with a black baseball cap which hid most of his face from your view.

As the stranger continued to come your way, Renjun closed his eyes and tried to force his fangs to retract, scared that this person spotted his vampire features. You were already mentally preparing yourself for the worst-case scenarios.

What if this guy is a hunter? Were there more hunters nearby? Would they think you’re a vampire too because of Renjun’s scent clinging to you? Could Renjun handle one hunter on his own? Or would you have to scream for Haechan and the other to come help?

❌🛑‼️warning: heavy stuff starts here‼️🛑❌

Your thoughts ran through your head and the only thing to pull you out of them was the piercing red eyes of the approaching stranger. They were like Renjun’s but brighter, even brighter than when Renjun fed from you, which was definitely not a good sign. Jaemin had once told you that the more hungry a vampire is, the brighter their eyes were. Renjun’s eyes were always a darker shade of maroon mixed with brown because you had set up a regular schedule with him, though when he fed, you noticed they’d turn brighter as he let his hunger take over.

The striking color of his eyes brought you back to your sense as you shook Renjun and forced him to turn around and look at the boy. Renjun turned around and let out a gasp once he saw what you were seeing, instantly moving to shield you using his own body.

“I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it, I’m losing my mind.” The stranger said as he continued his advance upon you. In less than a second, Renjun had the boy pinned to the ground as he yelled for Haechan. You were frozen in shock, too scared to move, especially when the larger boy was able to easily toss Renjun off of him, as if Renjun’s superhuman strength had no effect on him.

What happened next was all a blur to you, everything moving too fast for your eyes to process. You were only able to catch the red of the stranger’s shirt as he used his speed to attack you the second he had effortlessly thrown Renjun aside. All you felt was the familiar feeling of fangs sinking into your neck along with an electrocuting type of pain, causing you to let out an ear-splitting scream.

You felt a burning sensation traveling from his fangs into you, spreading all throughout your body as you finally registered what was happening and mustered all your strength to try pushing him away, even though you knew your efforts were futile. You knew something was wrong because Renjun’s bites never felt like this, they felt like little shots, never this mind-numbing pain that was coursing through you as your mind began to dissociate from your body.

Everything was starting to slow down as you saw Renjun getting up and running at you, slamming himself into the boy on you, bouncing off as if had hit a wall. You saw the other three vampires in the corner of your vision as they sprinted across the field, panicking as the assessed the situation, not sure of what to do.

You were already past feeling lightheaded, it felt like you didn’t even have a head anymore as the stranger kept taking blood from you. The more he took, the stronger he got. This much was evident to you as his grip on your shoulders kept getting tighter, feeling like your bones were about to snap.

None of the pain went away when his body was finally yanked away from you, bringing into view a faint outline of Jaemin and Renjun pushing the unknown vampire to the floor as Haechan came to stand over you. Your ears were ringing and you were barely able to hear anything, only catching Haechan’s voice as he turned around to yell something at the others and Chenle’s voice shouting a name as you watched the world slip away from under you. Mark Lee.

You woke up in Haechan’s arms as he carried you with your chests together, your legs wrapped around his waist and your chin thrown over his shoulder. You opened your eyes, which you quickly realized was a mistake, everything around you is just a blur as Haechan ran as fast as his power allowed him to.

Your body was beyond overloaded. You felt yourself burning, your mind feeling as if it were floating away off your own neck making you so nauseous that you couldn’t help it when your breath caught in your chest and you threw up over Haechan’s shoulder, your arms around him feeling all too weak.

The only thing your remember is Haechan’s voice in your ear, “you’re going to make it Princess. We’ll be home soon, you’re going to be okay.” He didn’t sound even half as confident as the message of his words begged him to be. He was convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You felt the weight of your own body as a second wave of nausea hit you, all your muscles tensing as you coughed up more fluids over Haechan’s back mere seconds before you blacked out again.

The next time you came to, you were immediately met with the refreshing feeling of something cold all along your back, pressing against you until your mind was able to register that you were lying down on something. You didn’t care what it was, only that it felt nice against your burning skin, all the pain throbbing from where your neck met your shoulder, right where the bite was.

You try to raise your arm to touch it but your movements are restricted by some kind of binding holding you to the table. Your eyes open, annoyed by your lack of freedom, and you’re blinded by the bright lights above you making you even more aware of the migraine you had and causing you to throw up again, just barely able to turn your head to the side in time. You look down at yourself, your body strapped down onto a silver metal table, your clothes still covered in blood and dirt.

You knew where you were and you could hear Haechan speaking anxiously though you couldn’t hear another person around, figuring that he must be on the phone. “I can’t. No, I can’t do that. I don’t want to be in charge of another one.” A few seconds pass before you hear his voice again. “What do you mean you’re not going to come back in time? Mark’s bite was that strong?” His question filled with both shock and fear though you took note of the new name, assuming he was the one who attacked you. “Renjun I told you, I don’t want to...She’s your mate,” the mere mention of his name making you feel calmer as his smile flashes through your mind, “I- fuck okay fine I’ll do it. Just don’t get mad at me when you regret this decision later.”

His footsteps rang out through the room and he sighs as he saw your state, fresh vomit covering your chest and the table, dripping down onto the floor. You felt his presence next to you as you hear him sit down onto the wooden stool you remember seeing the first time you were in this room.

“I just spoke with Renjun. He wants me to turn you...right now.” Your eyes flew open as you turn to him about to yell something out of bewilderment but your mind was moving too quickly for you to form any coherent thoughts. “Princess, you’re going to die if I don’t and I don’t want to lose you. Neither does Renjun.” He admits before continuing, “you’ve wanted to be a vampire for a while. I know it’s earlier than expected and definitely the way we all planned, but this is a matter of your life and death, y/n.” He told you, his red eyes meeting yours.

You could tell he wasn’t joking around just from the tone of his voice, but when he calls you by your name instead of calling you Princess, the reality of everything suddenly hit you. A tear slips out of your eye as you turn your head, tracing the lines on the ceiling as you croak out a simple ‘okay’ to him.

You watch through barely open eyes as Haechan comes to stand over you, biting open his own wrist and bringing it to your mouth. He grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, separating your lips enough for his blood to drip down into your mouth, the sour acidic taste making your face scrunch up in disgust. “Swallow it.” He commands, his voice is lower and more authoritative than you’ve ever head.

As you force his blood down your throat, he bites into you right next to your first marking, making the pain flare up again. You didn’t think it could be any worse than it was earlier, but you were wrong. You began writhing in pain and screaming until your head felt like it was going to burst, the only thing proving you were still alive was the feeling of Haechan’s hand on you. He places it on your forehead, applying pressure that momentarily made your headache less severe as he massages your temples, though the relief was short-lived.

His hand travels down your arm to your hand, letting your grab onto him and use him as your own stress ball of sorts. You squeezed his hand so hard it causes him to wince though he doesn’t make any effort to pull away, only whispering out “I’m so so sorry Princess. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

❌🛑‼️heavy stuff ends here‼️🛑❌

You can’t tell how much time goes by, your body continuously feeling as if you were being bathed by flames, your head much too heavy for your neck to raise, any movements at all warranting another round of brutal suffering against you. You want to curl into a ball and claw your skin off to rid yourself of the pain.

You’re so wound up by all the pain that you barely even notice Haechan’s hand leaving yours, being replaced by a smaller, much more familiar one until you hear “Oh, angel, my love.” Your eyes slowly flutter open, knowing better than to blind yourself from the lights this time, and you find Renjun’s face over yours. Even though he appears upside down, you’re still able to let your gaze rake over his face, taking in the features you adore so much being covered in scratches and bruises.

You want to ask him to kiss you, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a cry of pain. Renjun’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he bites into his own wrist and bring it to your mouth, just as Haechan did. You refuse to drink his blood, not wanting to go through another round of pain, moaning as the motion of turning your head makes the skin around the bites flare up, sending more waves of tension up to your head.

“Love, please let me help you. I promise you, it won’t hurt. You were never supposed to be in pain.” All you can do is let out a heavy breath as you surrender to Renjun and wait for him to connect his wrist to your mouth, though it never comes. Instead, you’re met with the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue gently pushing its way into your mouth as you part your lips, allowing him access. You feel a liquid flow over your tongue, a sweet flavor coating your mouth leaving you wanting more of it after you swallow it.

When Renjun pulls away, you realize it was his blood that you just drank, the addictive taste of it being the exact opposite of Haechan’s. You felt the pain start to fade, one of the powers you knew vampire blood had. As you prepared yourself to be plunged into another world of torture when Renjun moved to press his lips against your already abused neck, you feel him shy away only to press another kiss to your mouth, his lips lingering as he said, “It’s you and me against the world, angel. Only us from here on out.”

He sunk his fangs into your neck and you instantly relaxed as the familiar tingling sensation washed over you, the cooling effect covering you like a blanket, almost ridding you of all the pain. It takes a while for the euphoria to wear off, which you are more than thankful for, as it finally allows you time to think clearly and recollect yourself. “What did he do to me?” You ask Renjun, not sure whether you’re referring to the incident in the park or to Haechan, so he just tells you the full story.

“Mark, the guy from the park, is a newborn vampire, only a couple of months old. He didn’t have any training whatsoever and hadn’t fed since he was turned which is why he lost control so easily when he smelled you.” He explained to you, running a hand through your hair affectionately.

You leaned into Renjun’s hand, causing the corners of his lips to turn upwards in a faint smile. “Is that why his eyes were like that?”

Renjun nodded at you before continuing on. “When I was fighting with Mark, he entered his survival mode so that’s why he couldn’t control his venom from entering you while he fed. He unintentionally turned you...sort of.”

“Sort of?” You echoed.

“He’s a newborn so his venom isn’t as strong as someone older like me or Haechan. It’s not strong enough to fully turn you but it would have been enough to start the process of turning you, leaving your body in a state of half-human and half-vampire. Your body would have worn itself out fighting from both sides which is why Haechan had to fully turn you before you got stuck.”

“Why weren’t you here?”

“I had to bring Mark into The Union for assaulting someone because the others are still too young to do it themselves.”

“Why did it hurt so badly? I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt?”

“It hurt because Haechan is not your mate, darling, I am. It wouldn’t have hurt if I turned you. I know you’re still in pain right now, it’s from Haechan’s blood running through you. Please don’t be upset with him, it wasn’t his choice. It wasn’t any of our choices.” Renjun’s gaze shifts away from yours as if lost in thought. “How are you feeling?”

You try to wet your throat, feeling like it only gets drier and drier as more time passes. “Tired...thirsty as well.”

Again, you watch as Renjun bites open his wrist, though this time your gladly lick the blood from his skin, relishing the soothing effect it had on you. “Sleep, my love, your body needs it.”

Renjun leans down to kiss you once more, his fingers intertwining with yours. He sits down next to you, as you allow yourself to fall into slumber for the last time.

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waterrtribe · 4 years

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just here to let u kno i would Love to hear ur thoughts on katara as the mom friend 👉🏻👈🏻

lksdjfklsdfj okay disclaimer: i’m not very articulate so i don’t have a full coherent Thought about this so get ready for some word vomit and a scary glimpse of the disconnected thoughts in my brain. i promise, what i lack in coherency i make up for with my love and passion for this show and for katara herself. also this got long so...bear with me.

i’ll start off by saying that i think about the episode The Runaway a lot. It’s the one where Katara and Toph get into it about how Katara tries to mother them all the time. at one point sokka explains that their mother died when they were so young that in his mind, Katara basically took over Kya’s place. he said something along the lines of, “when i try to picture our mother’s face, i just see katara’s,” a line which still makes me very emotional every time i watch.

anyway, i see katara being The Mom Friend with sokka, with aang, with toph, and it’s very sweet!! i love the Gaang’s dynamics and how much they all love and support each other. still, i can’t help but feel kind of....indignant on katara’s behalf?

i think it’s because i’m older now, so i’m just hyperaware of these characters’ ages. when i was watching this show in 2007 i didn’t understand quite as much. all of the weight of their trauma and responsibility really hits me harder now. so i see the rest of the gaang get to act like their age a lot of the time and just be able to be Kids (as they should!!), but with katara, it seemed to me like she gets to do so less than the rest of the gaang.

i know we can say “well that’s just because she’s the mom friend and it’s part of her personality.” still, i can’t help but focus on the fact that the reason katara is The Mom Friend in the first place is because of a combination of her mother dying at such a young age and her having to step up to fulfill that role plus the general gender roles instilled in her while growing up. i think i’ve seen some posts floating around that mention how sokka and katara ended up adhering to more traditional gender roles because sokka had to fill his father’s shoes after he went off to war and katara had to fill her mother’s after she died. so going off of that, sokka and katara both bear responsibilities and pressures that they shouldn’t have to when they’re just children.

there’s still a difference between the two, however. sokka is still a very goofy, fun-loving character who can make cheesy jokes and get into all sorts of hijinks. he’s allowed to be childish, and it’s fun to watch him be childish. katara, on the other hand, always has to be the mature and levelheaded one. when i think about this contrast, i think about The Desert episode from book 2. they’re wandering the desert and katara is the one keeping them on track. aang, of course, has his own worries about appa being taken, and toph is unable to navigate the desert very well because she’s not used to moving in the sand. that leaves sokka and katara to lead the way. but then, sokka drinks the cactus juice. don’t get me wrong--i’m aware that whole bit was comic relief and adds levity in a very emotionally heavy episode, and i love it a lot! but i still can’t help but notice that sokka is the oldest, and he’s the one whose character arc is about growing into the strong leader that he becomes in book 3. yet, katara is the one leading the way here while sokka’s allowed to check out and be our comic relief. katara’s never really allowed to let loose in the same way.

i can think of two instances where she’s allowed to let loose a little and both of them end up with her facing serious repercussions for them. there’s the part in the first episode when she goes penguin sledding with aang and she’s enjoying herself and she says, “i haven’t done this since i was a kid!” and aang replied, “you still are a kid!” which is so telling (also this reminds me of when aang basically had the same exchange with zuko later but this post is long enough without me talking about zuko lol). katara hasn’t really been able to be a kid since her mom died. and when she allows herself to be one in this scene, she and aang end up accidentally setting off a booby trap from an abandoned fire navy ship which lights up a flare that leads zuko to her village. the other instance is in the episode i mentioned earlier, the Runaway, where katara wants to have fun with Toph and pull a scam with her in an effort to stop being The Mom Friend and just be A Friend, and that ends with them being arrested. even when it was her turn to pick a vacation spot in the library episode, she picked the misty palms oasis because it sounded relaxing, but that didn’t even go the way she wanted it to because the oasis was no longer an oasis. there are so many times where katara wants to just be a kid and relax, and the narrative seems to almost punish her for it.

(quick note: i can think of some moments where katara isn’t necessarily levelheaded and is impulsive and that’s in the cases when she’s actively trying to fight to protect and help people in need, which still kind of proves my point because she’s not impulsive for herself and for the sake of acting her own age; it’s to fight oppression and injustice. and that’s not childish at all.)

this extremely long ramble brings me to my Thought about how katara is a perfect example about how quickly we expect young girls, especially brown girls, to grow up. katara is a kid just like the rest of them. she’s a powerful warrior just like the rest of them. she is a war hero just like the rest of them. but she also has to be the The Mom Friend. and i think, despite the fact that she’s able to fight the gender roles forced on her by becoming a warrior, she’s unable to escape them entirely. this isn’t to say she can’t enjoy being the caretaker and being the mom friend, but that doesn’t change the fact the writers wrote her that way in the first place.

that also leads to my dissatisfaction with katara’s life post-atla. it seemed to me that despite all of katara’s power, her accomplishments, and her drive to fight for what she believes in, ultimately, motherhood prevails. this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. i’m sure katara loves being a mom!! she’d be great at it!! and there is nothing wrong with a woman who wants to be a mother and only a mother!! nonetheless, from a narrative standpoint i can’t help but resent bryke a little for making it so.

i’ve had conversations about this and people have mentioned that the legend of korra is a show that should stand on its own so the less amount of contact with atla characters, the better, and i agree to some extent. but what strikes me is that they brought in zuko to participate in the action at one point. toph shows up as well to help her family. but we get very few interactions with katara as anything other than a healer, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. that doesn’t sit right with me.

i can’t help but think about the episodes in the legend of korra season 1 when they’re dealing with Yakone, the bloodbender. katara doesn’t really come up at all even though the episode introducing bloodbending, the Puppetmaster, was one of the big katara-centric episodes. at one point toph mentions that katara hasn’t joined in on the action because she’s old and tired, so she’s ready to leave these things to the young ones. but even in the flashbacks to Yakone’s trial, sokka, toph, and aang are all there, and katara isn’t. you would think that when faced with a bloodbending enemy, katara would be there, but she’s nowhere to be seen. that will always bother me.

anyway, my point is that katara is the embodiment of what we want young girls to be. we want them to be mothers. we want them to be caretakers. we want them to act like grown women, and we punish them when they don’t. katara is The Mom Friend because she stopped being a child when her mother died. that’s why katara always talks about her mother’s death and why it had such a huge impact on her. when kya died, katara took over her role as a mother for her entire village and for her friends and later, for her own family. katara became a mother as soon as her own died. kya’s death forced katara into womanhood. kya’s death marked the death of her girlhood. kya’s death is when Katara became the Mom Friend.

i just really wish that the narrative gave katara more chances to be a child again and recover her lost girlhood just for a little while.

so yeah. those are my thoughts on katara as the mom friend. i hope this was satisfying in some way if u managed to get through this whole thing 😭

#atla #atla meta #katara #if this makes even a tiny bit of sense i'll be happy lmao #i did not proofread this at all so if something doesn't make sense lmk and i'll try to clarify #anyone is welcome to add to the discussion by the way #i know there are plenty of more articulate people than me jsjkfsd #also if i am wrong plz tell me bc i am often wrong #maybe i just forgot some episodes where katara can be a kid and i'm just a dumbass #silvermlst #answered

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heysoup · 3 years

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Fluffy February Day 2 - Movie Night

Reminder to follow @fluffyfebruary to see the prompt list and that I’ll be using the tags #fluffyfebruary and #fluffyfeb for these.

Continuing the fics with day two! I’m super proud of this one; It’s dripping with fluff and teenage angst. Warning for potential secondhand embarrassment - they’re both idiots in love and have no idea how to show it.

Chapter 2: Films and Fears

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Dealing with life in the vault can be tough, especially for an outcast like Jamie. When he befriends Butch through his G.O.A.T. assignment, however, the two make their own safe place. Butch decides to surprise him there one day with the promise of treasure, and it leads to something more than they both expect.

Ao3 Link

Jamie tosses and turns in his rat’s nest of a bed. It’s midnight – he’s too hot, the vault’s ventilation system’s groaning is echoing around him like a damn chorus, and his sheets keep scratching uncomfortably against his clammy skin. He brings his wrist close to his face to mindlessly check his Pip-Boy for the millionth time that night, his arm feeling as heavy as lead, and he squints at the fluorescent light of the screen as he taps it awake.

Though Butch showed him a few times before, it still takes him a moment to remember the right sequence of buttons to push to unlock developer’s mode and navigate to the messaging tab the other boy set up for them. It’s only been about a month since Butch found an old Pip-Boy manual in Stanley’s locker and got this trick to work, but already there’s a considerable backlog of messages between the two.

Jamie scrolls through them with the dial on his Pip-Boy, worrying the skin of his lower lip with his teeth as he reads through some of the older messages. It’s become a new habit for him on these particularly rough sleepless nights. When he’s too exhausted to write in his journal, draw, or jump around his room in an attempt to tire himself out; he talks to Butch.

If someone had told him a year ago that Butch DeLoria, his childhood bully and teenage rival, would be one of his only sources of solace these days he would have called them insane. Turns out, giving the vault’s two delinquents deadbeat jobs with no supervision and shoving them in the same closet of a studio space could make them form a pretty strange alliance. The enemy of my enemy and all of that, right?

It also doesn’t help that Amata is forever busy with her new duties as overseer’s assistant – or whatever her job title is actually called. Jamie misses her like he’s lost a part of himself, and even though he knows she’s not locked away with her father by choice he can’t help the nagging part of his brain that is convinced she abandoned him.

Butch is dealing with the same thing, though with less consequence. His fellow Tunnel Snakes are relatively busy with their new jobs – Wally as a security guard and Paul as an engineer – but they still make some time to see each other. Butch is just one of those people who needs constant attention, which is where Jamie supposes he comes in handy. He tries not to think too hard about it.

He’s is snickering to himself while he reads some messages sent a few weeks back during one of their spats, most of which were petty insults and some pretty creative curses, when a new message blips through and pulls his screen to attention.

913473: nosebleed u up?

Perfect timing, Jamie thinks, sitting up in his bed to type. The 6-digit code is what Butch called his Pip-ID – apparently every Pip-Boy comes with one coded in by default. It was weird at first, trying to memorize the numbers and calm his own paranoia at the thought of someone hacking into their conversations, but Butch said that their numbers were for their Pip-Boys alone, so Jamie trusted him. The horrible, agitated crawling under his skin that was keeping him up all night begins to fade as he replies.

604272: didja even have to ask? 913473: just say yes or no damn 604272: k. no 913473: oh fuck off

Jamie can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him, and he grins like a complete idiot down at the screen.

913473: if ur done being an ass i have somethin for us to do 913473: if u aint busy of course 913473: meet at the place? 604272: sure. be there in 10

He switches his Pip-Boy screen off and hops out of bed, stretching languorously before grabbing his jumpsuit from where he left it earlier that day in a heap on the floor. He tugs it on leg by leg and zips it up before checking himself in the mirror.

His hair is a mop of curls on his head and he does his best to smooth it down, knowing Butch will scold him for not using the correct conditioner to tame his flyaways like he showed him. The bags under his eyes are a bit darker than usual, but there’s nothing to be done about that. He shrugs to himself and turns to the door. No point in being too self-conscious about his appearance this late at night – isn’t like this is a date or anything, he tells himself.

He doesn’t bother being quiet as he leaves his room, knowing his dad would still be working at the clinic or at the very least passed out there on one of the cots. He doesn’t come home much these days.

Jamie shoves his boots on, not even bothering with socks, and peers out of the thick window into the hallway. It seems empty, so he hits the button and creeps out through the door.

The neon blue emergency lights that run along the edges of the ceiling and floor greet him when he steps out of his apartment. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and peers around the corner before continuing his path. The door closes not-so-softly behind him and he walks down the hall past the restrooms that separate his and Butch’s apartments. He stops momentarily outside the door to the DeLoria’s apartment, noticing it’s dark and quiet inside.

Butch must already be down there, Jamie thinks, picking up his pace as much as he could without making too much noise. Despite the constant creaking and rumbling of the vault’s ventilation and reactor systems the halls at night could carry quite an echo, and his boots aren’t the quietest things to sneak around in.

Patrols were lax recently but knowing his luck he’d get caught breaking curfew and would have to clean the bathrooms again. He briefly regrets not wearing socks because he refuses to take his boots off and walk barefoot on the cold steel floor, even if it is quieter.

Further down the hallway and a bit past the occupied wing of apartments, Jamie stops at the top of a short set of stairs that lead down to a small corridor with one door. A large INACCESSIBLE sign glows ominously above it, and in the corner of the hallway facing the stairwell is a single security camera. It rotates at a snail’s pace, its gears clicking audibly with every circuit it makes of the dead-end hallway.

Jamie ducks down near the wall at the top of the stairs, watching the camera as he has so many times before to study its crawling path. When Butch had discovered this place, they figured out a way to tilt the camera up ever so slightly with the handle of a broom from their shop – creating about thirty seconds of a blind spot to get them from the stairs and through the door without getting caught if they hugged the left wall.

Peering down the hallways around him one more time to make sure no patrols were coming; Jamie types a quick message into his Pip-Boy.

604272: here

He waits a few moments until he hears a couple sharp raps on the metal door down the way, telling him that Butch is there whenever he’s ready. Jamie waits a few more moments and listens to the camera click back into its blind spot before he hops down the stairs, staying low and to the left as he stalks toward the door. He hits it lightly with his palm when he gets there, and it slides open. He has just enough time to duck inside, slamming his fist on the button to shut it just as he hears the security camera restart its rotation.

“You’re still gonna act like it's some big heist no matter how many times we come down here, huh?” Jamie turns around in the darkness and is met with Butch’s grin, a bottle of beer already in one of his fists. His Pip-Boy light is on, basking them in a dim green glow.

“Keeps it interesting,” he replies, punching Butch playfully on the arm. On this side of the door is a long flight of stairs and they continue further down into the pitch darkness, hands pressing along the walls for purchase with nothing but about three feet of lighting in front of them.

The emergency lights are shut off down here, along with the security cameras – probably to save power, so Jamie turns his Pip-Boy light on as well. It’s a bit brighter, but not by much. They’ve been down here enough times by now that their bodies remember how many steps there are, but Jamie always has a nagging fear in the back of his mind that one day the staircase will just keep going forever. He shakes that thought from his head, listening to the sound of their boots stomping down the steps and focusing his gaze on Butch’s free hand as it slides against the railing.

For the past month or so this has been their escape. Butch somehow figured out how to break into the door they just passed through, and they discovered a whole wing of abandoned apartments under the ones they were currently living in. So far all they had done was clear out one room that had a ratty old couch, some blankets, a broken Nuka Cola mini-fridge, and a few wooden storage crates in it. Jamie had also rigged up a small emergency generator and they were able to find some lamps to make it a little less depressing.

Most importantly, they had booze smuggled from Butch’s mom’s liquor stash, a few cartons of cigarettes they’d traded with Stevie for some chems Jamie snuck from his dad’s clinic, their collection of comic books, and Jamie’s old BB gun for when they got bored. It’s far from perfect, but it’s space, and when you’re destined to roam the same hallways with the same people for the rest of your miserable existence – that amounts to a lot.

“So, what are we actually doing?” Jamie asks as they turn into the apartment they’d claimed as their base. Butch has the generator running and the room smells thickly of his peach pomade and cigarette smoke – he must have been down here for a few hours already.

“I,” Butch begins, stopping to pull the cork out of his new bottle of beer with his teeth before spitting it on the floor and taking a swig, “am gonna show you some treasure.” He finishes with a flourish, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and plops down onto the couch next to his discarded Tunnel Snake jacket.

Jamie snorts and pulls up a crate, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and propping his feet up. He clicks his tongue in mock annoyance when Butch’s boots crowd his own on the small surface and, in a fruitless endeavor, they battle for leg space before giving in to sharing. It’s obvious the other boy is already a bit tipsy.

“Treasure, huh? That’s cool, I guess,” Jamie snickers, snatching the bottle of beer from Butch and downing some before he could protest. It burns in his throat and brings a comforting warmth to his chest. He continues nursing the drink and settles further back into the worn corduroy couch, his posture absolutely terrible. Butch reaches for another bottle.

“Yup.” The bottle pops open and another cork joins the pile growing on the floor. Another drink and an obnoxious burp, then Butch sits forward - feet falling to the floor, his hands on his knees, and an excited light in his eyes. His leg is bouncing incessantly.

“Listen, I was going through some rooms down here and I found an old projector – like the one Brotch has?” He glances at Jamie, blue eyes a soft, dreamy color in the low light, and Jamie can’t help but gulp at the intensity he sees there. When Butch has a plan he’s excited about, he turns into a different person – like all the stress of conforming to the monotony of vault life has washed away and he’s finally allowed to be the mischievous and passionate person hiding underneath it all. Or… something like that. Jamie’s waxing poetic again, something he can’t help but do when around Butch.

“That’s pretty cool,” is all Jamie can bring himself to breathe out as he sips on his beer. He picks at the loose threads on the arm of the couch as he tries not to think about the fact that Butch had his lips on this same bottle just a few seconds ago.

Butch deflates a bit. “Pretty cool?” he mocks, leaning closer. Okay, maybe he’s more drunk than Jamie had first thought, if the redness of his cheeks were any indication.

“Nosebleed, I found full on ho-lo-disks,” Butch emphasizes, blowing a few messy curls away from his forehead. Jamie just shrugs.

“Okay?” he begins, not seeing the big deal. They already have these things in the classroom. “What’re we gonna do, watch some lectures? Don’t tell me DeLoria wants to brush up on his studying,” he taunts.

Butch just sneers at him in response, standing up and only swaying a bit – much to Jamie’s surprise. “You have no imagination, dweeb. Stay here!” And with that, he storms out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Jamie can see the green light of his Pip-Boy flash on through the window as he walks further away into the dark.

It’s a few minutes before he comes back, and Jamie can hear the ruckus he’s causing before he sees him. He’s startled out of his comfortable position on the couch and perks up. The door slides open and Butch pushes the projector into their base on its rolling cart. One of the wheels must be rusted because its screeching like a damn rat, scraping against the metal flooring as he drags it to the center of the room. He grabs an old cardboard box from the lower shelf of the cart and slides it on the floor over to Jamie with his foot before going back to set the projector up with their tangled mess of extension cords.

Jamie picks it up and grimaces at the box – it’s a little rank and it feels crusty in some spots. “This thing is probably covered in like a hundred different types of mold,” he complains.

“Didn’t give it to ya so you could judge the box!” Butch snaps, banging the top of the projector impatiently when the power flickers. “Open the damn thing.”

Jamie places the box on the couch beside him and sits up, peeling it open to peer inside. His jaw drops in amazement at the sight – more holodisks than he’s ever seen in his life, all with unique and eye-catching, full-color illustrations on the covers. He stares at Butch in disbelief and catches the other boy staring at him, an unabashed, beaming smile on his face when he sees Jamie’s reaction. When their eyes meet, Butch clears his throat and snaps his attention back to the projector, fiddling with some dials that don’t seem to change anything.

“Cool, right?” He says, his ears turning red as he dismisses his earlier excitement with a sheepish shrug.

“It’s fucking great!” Jamie laughs and begins to rummage through the box. There are real films in here, like he’s only read about in pre-war history classes or his cheesy novels. Aside from a whole slew of superhero films starring characters like The Silver Shroud and even some of Grognak the Barbarian, there are titles that look like they’re about pre-war animals in different parts of the world, some with soldiers in power armor, some ancient recordings of sports, and what looks like a few western and sci-fi films

Butch walks back over and sits beside him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to look at the titles. Jamie’s breath hitches at his closeness and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He tries not to show it, leaning in ever so slightly to let their shoulders brush.

“You can pick first, my treat,” Butch says while gesturing to the patchwork sheet he’d hung up on the opposite wall of the small apartment – Butch must have stitched it together himself out of whatever excess fabric he found. It’s hanging a little crooked and the projector’s STAND BY image is a bit fuzzy, but a bubble of excitement forms in Jamie’s chest regardless. He doesn’t want to read too far into things, but Butch had found this and made it a surprise specifically for them to share. That made him feel a certain kind of way.

He blinks those embarrassing thoughts away and nods, his face warm. Looking over their choices carefully, he finally decides and picks the western – he always did have a fondness for the freedom that seemed to come with being a cowboy – and walks to the projector to pop it in and press play.

He half expects Butch to make fun of his choice, but the other boy is oddly quiet, carefully inspecting his fingernails as Jamie switches off the lamps and kicks off his boots before returning to sit cross-legged on the couch. Butch still hasn’t scooted further away or removed his arm from the back of the couch, so their knees bump and he can feel the warmth of Butch’s arm behind his neck and it sends prickles through his skin.

Only as the movie begins do they realize they don’t have any speakers hooked up – so it’s completely silent in the room other than the whirring of the film in the projector.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Butch sighs and shakes his head in disappointment. Jamie just laughs.

“It’s still cool,” he assures him. “They used to have silent movies all the time apparently – especially back in cowboy days. It’s authentic,” he purses his lips at the end, trying to do his best impression of Mr. Brotch. It seems to work because Butch cracks a grin at him and snorts.

“Sure, it’ll work for now, but I saw some terminals in another apartment down here. We can check for some speakers there later,” Butch says and then his playful grin becomes roguish. “Push comes to shove, we can just swipe one from upstairs. Who’d notice a missing speaker?”

Jamie just scoffs and elbows him, turning his attention back to the film as the title screen fades in and he reads, ‘High Lonesome.’ He didn’t bother to read what the film was about, but it opens with a group of people in a wagon on a vast desert plain with plateaus towering in the distance.

There isn’t too much to see at first, but one thing that sticks with him is the impossible vastness of the sky as the camera zooms out to show a wider view of the prairie they’re riding along. He’s seen pictures of the sky, sure, but something about watching the tiny silhouettes of people move around under it was chilling – it was huge and incredibly empty. He didn’t know if what he was feeling was amazement or terror.

Despite the film being in black and white, the shimmer of the sun on the horses’ flanks as they gallop is bright enough to seem real and Jamie is completely entranced as he watches. And, luckily enough, there seem to be subtitles, so they’ll still be able to understand what’s going on.

Jamie’s trance is momentarily broken when Butch leans down and grabs something from under the couch. He returns with a box of fancy lads which he presses into Jamie’s hands. Jamie mumbles his thanks, his eyes never leaving the picture as he tears into a package and shoves a whole powdery cake into his mouth.

Butch just laughs at him and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights one just as the young cowboy on screen does – much to Jamie’s delight – and they chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

They pass the snacks, beer, and smokes back and forth between each other as they watch their movies. When the western is over, Butch picks a film called ‘Teenage Caveman,’ saying that it has to be good because the cover has tits and a giant lizard monster on it. It ends up being the worst piece of garbage they’ve ever seen – and that’s saying a lot considering they’ve only seen one other film in their whole lives.

“That dude didn’t even look like a teenager! He had to be like thirty,” Jamie says, tossing the film into a box they decide to label ‘shit.’ According to Butch, they were like pioneers and had to record their findings, so not only were they watching the films, but they were sorting them from best to worst. As Butch had put it in his best overseer impression, they were doing future vault residents a great service and fulfilling their civic duty… by saving others from watching total pieces of trash.

“There wasn’t even a single boob,” Butch mopes, snubbing out the last of his cigarette in the cracked coffee mug functioning as their makeshift ashtray. “Talk about false advertising. The giant lizards were kinda cool, though.” Jamie smacks him upside the head.

“You wouldn’t know what a boob looked like if it smacked you in the face.”

“You take that back!” Butch laughs and tosses their snacks on the floor, lunging for Jamie who’s cackling just as hard. They’re fucking hammered at this point and they roll off the couch into a heap on the floor, knocking a crate over as they grapple at each other. They wrestle like this sometimes – it’s a great outlet for Jamie’s aggressive energy and, when they’re less drunk, Butch actually teaches him how to kick ass. Now, they’re just breathless laughs and fumbling hands as they scramble for purchase on the floor and try their damnedest to pin the other down.

Butch may be stronger on a normal day, but at the moment he’s piss-drunk compared to Jamie who still has a bit of his wits about him. He flips the taller boy over so quickly it’s almost comical and pins him, pressing his knees against his thighs and holding his wrists at his sides to stop him from getting up. He laughs triumphantly.

“What’s wrong, Butchie? You’ve never lost a fight so fast!” He grins down at the boy smugly but stops short when he sees the look on Butch’s face. It’s endearing how red his cheeks are, his hair a mess and his blue eyes wide. Butch just fixes him with those piercing baby blues.

“Don’t get cocky, Nosebleed. I let ya do it,” he says in a soft voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jamie’s mouth goes dry, his eyes fixed on Butch’s unbelievably pink lips. He hates himself for how much he wants to kiss him then and without thinking he begins to lean forward. He catches himself, though, and his thoughts have him jumping off of Butch and falling back against the couch like he’s been shocked, his chest heaving. He feels dizzy and he can still smell the earthy spice of the other boy’s aftershave enveloping him like a thick haze he can’t shake.

Butch laughs and pulls himself up into a sitting position, shooting Jamie a dazzling grin from his seat on the floor. “What’s wrong, Jamie?” Butch teases, his voice only a bit slurred and a shit-eating grin creeping its way onto his face. Hearing his name come from Butch is rare and it knocks the breath out of him. All he can do is stare.

Butch clambers ungracefully back up to the couch with him, leaning awfully close and whispering, “cat got your tongue?” His breath is warm on Jamie’s face and it smells like a mixture of smoke and alcohol, something he never thought would smell so intoxicating, but of course it does – it’s Butch.

Jamie’s heart is in his fucking throat and he can’t breathe. Butch is pressed against his side and his back is against the arm of the couch. There’s nowhere for him to escape to – not that he necessarily wants to, but he was never very good with facing his feelings. Either Butch is actively trying to flirt with him or he’s fucking around, and Jamie can’t decide which one is worse.

“You’re drunk, you idiot,” Jamie laughs weakly and goes to push Butch away by the chest but stops when he feels his heart pounding under his t-shirt. The other boy’s breath hitches and his body stiffens at Jamie’s touch, his lips parting as if he were trying to think of what to say.

“So are you,” Butch finally settles with, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Jamie’s wrist. His touch almost feels like it burns. They sit like that for a moment, staring at each other, eyes like fire.

The generator chooses that moment to shut off, leaving them in pitch darkness. Out of instinct, Jamie curls his fingers into Butch’s shirt, his ears ringing at the sudden silence in the room and his breathing becoming labored. Darkness feels suffocating to him sometimes, and this is one of those moments. It lays over them like a thick blanket, and the only thing that pulls him out of his internal panic is Butch’s free hand cupping the back of his head, fingers twining through the thick, curly hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t even have time to think about what Butch might be doing before he feels the press of the other boy’s lips warm against his own. Though they’re unbelievably soft, the kiss is rushed and clumsy – desperate almost – and Jamie grunts when their teeth knock together. He wastes no time returning the kiss, though, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the feel of Butch’s lips against his own and the rough burn of his stubble as it brushes against his chin.

It must have just been a power surge, because suddenly the generator kicks back on and the projector screen lights up the room. Their eyes fly open and they wrench apart, still holding onto each other as if for dear life. Whatever safety they felt shrouded in the darkness is ripped away and they’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. Jamie’s breath comes out in stutters and he dares to glance up at the other boy.

Butch’s eyes are filled with a fiery heat he can’t even describe and something akin to tenderness – which is hard for him to pinpoint since he’s never been looked at like that before. He sucks in a sharp breath. For some reason, even though he’s been dreaming of this moment for months, he just feels terrified and embarrassed – like he fucked up somehow. The panic must be written clearly on his face because Butch pulls away like he’s been slapped and falls back to the other end of the couch.

“Sh-shit, I,” Butch stutters, his hand clutching his chest where Jamie’s was a moment before, “fuck, Jamie, I didn’t mean to.” His voice cracks, sounding almost pleading. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, his mouth flapping uselessly, and it’s too much for him to handle. He doesn’t understand what his problem is. Everything in his heart is telling him to leap forward and continue kissing Butch, but he’s just too fucking scared.

“It’s fine!” He practically snaps, standing up suddenly. He’s shaking and feels clammy and he’s sure he’s as pale as a ghost – is it even possible for something good to give you a panic attack?

He glances around for his boots for a moment, but it’s still too much and he can see Butch starting to reach for him with concern in his eyes. “I have to go,” he blurts out, and he turns tail and runs.

The last thing he hears before he leaves is Butch yelling his name, but he jogs up the steps in the darkness, tripping over his own feet and bruising his knees. He knows he’s acting like a child, but he can’t bring himself to care. He is absolutely not ready to face what’s happening and he needs to be alone in his room now.

When he reaches the door, he doesn’t even stop to think about the security camera on the other side, he just slams his fist on the button and rushes out and thankfully luck is on his side this time because he can hear the camera click into the end of its circuit.

He slows down when he reaches the halls, his bare feet making a lot less noise than his boots, but fuck the floor is cold and he regrets not stopping to find his shoes. Soon he reaches his apartment, and he rushes inside, thankful to see that it’s still empty. He locks himself in his own bedroom, suddenly feeling like everything is too much, and he rips his jumpsuit off, flopping onto his bed in just his tank top and boxers and pulling the covers over his head.

He wants to scream, maybe tear his hair out a little or punch the wall. He cannot believe how badly he fucked that up. He doesn’t even know what this means for their friendship – if he had tried to make a move on Butch and the other boy ran away, he would be devastated! Would Butch even want to talk to him anymore? He worries over these thoughts for a few hours until his brain feels like jelly. The last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is how his lips taste ever-so-slightly like the sweet mint chap stick Butch always carries around.

---

He wakes up later to the sound of incessant beeping coming from his wrist. He groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face. He feels like complete shit – hungover, most likely, and his head is swimming.

He looks at his Pip-Boy to check the time and realizes he’s overslept. It’s two in the afternoon and he’s late for his work assignment at the studio but if he’s being honest the thought of having to drag himself out of bed and sit in a room with Butch all day doesn’t seem as great as it used to. He can’t help it when he opens the messaging app, biting his lip as he prepares to read whatever might be there.

913473: it was a prank haha i rly got u good

That one was sent almost immediately after he’d left last night, according to the timestamp. Something about it makes his gut twist, gives him a bit of nausea. He’s not sure if he believes Butch or not. Once again, he’s not sure which is harder to deal with. Dated about an hour later there are a few more.

913473: jamie im sorry pls answer me 913473: don’t ignore me man if ur mad just come beat me up 913473: are u sleeping? damn out of all the times 913473: its k. i kno u need it. gnight

Jamie doesn’t realize he’s chewing his lip to shreds until he tastes blood, and he curses, wiping it away on the hem of his tank top. His eyes are glued to the screen, his heart thundering in his ears. Dated even later are a handful of other messages and he can tell by their contents that Butch must have kept drinking in his absence. The thought of that tugs at his heart a little – maybe he isn’t the only one who’s terrified of his own feelings and kind of a fuckup.

913473: i know ur asleeeep 913473: gdamn typing onthis shit. fcking sucks 913473: m drunk but idc. i kissed u jamie n itfucking rocked 913473: wasnt a prank. im srry. dont hate me 913473: u can hit me all u want. ill evenlet u win the fight. 913473: jsut dont hate me

Jamie groans and grabs his pillow, shoving his face into it a few times and letting out as loud of a yell as he dares. It’s not enough, but it will have to do. Breathless and flushed, he’s about to lay back down when a new message comes through and his heart leaps so high into his throat that he nearly chokes. He peeks at it over the pillow.

913473: yo you’re late dude. like super late! 913473: i figured id let u sleep off the hangover a bit but damn 913473: i aint gonna cover ur ass if the overseer comes knocking. i have enough of a headache. 913473: so get down here!!! 913473: speakin of headache i was drunk as shit last night. dont remember a thing past that crappy monster movie. so ignore whatever embarrassing crap i sent you, k? 913473: and dont tell anyone im a talkative drunk or ill pummel you, nosebleed.

Jamie looks at the messages in disbelief and flops back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. He can’t tell if Butch is lying or not – he knows even if Butch doesn’t remember there was still something different about what happened last night but fuck if he’s going to bring it up now.

He’s relieved, but also disappointed, maybe a little angry – either at himself or at Butch, he can’t tell. He’s shaking, wracked with nerves at the sudden sense that everything might change soon. He can’t handle change – can’t handle much, if he’s honest with himself, but change is the hardest of all. He curls his fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly and trying to resist the urge to pull it out in chunks. He’s losing himself in his worries again when another message notification shakes him out of it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, wishing he could rip his Pip-Boy off his arm and throw it away.

913473: NOSEBLEED GET THE FUCK TO WORK NOW 913473: its boring alone

Jamie feels like he’s actually going to tear his hair out, but he can’t help himself from laughing. He gives in and types out a quick response.

604272: for the love of GOD 604272: STFU 604272: im on my way now 604272: and i didn’t read ur stupid messages don’t worry. too many for me to care

He bites his lip again, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest as he writes out one more message.

604272: i don’t even remember much of the shitty movie lol, u know im a blackout drunk

There are a few minutes without a reply and Jamie starts to think maybe he’s fucked it up again, then more messages come through.

913473: u stupid fuckin idiot 913473: what would i do without u 913473: to pick on i mean

Jamie lets out a trembling sigh and gets out of bed, shaking himself free of his worries and tugging on his jumpsuit again. His hands are quivering, probably will be all day with the way his nerves are, but he can handle it.

It’s only as he’s going to leave does he realize he doesn’t have his shoes.

913473: i have your boots btw dumbass

Jamie is terrified of change. He’s terrified of his own emotions, especially when he can’t control them. He wishes things were simpler and he wishes he could have been born into a more agreeable body in a more agreeable time, but as he walks, shoeless, out of the apartment and to the studio space he shares with Butch, he feels a bit comforted in the fact that Butch might feel exactly the same way. Even if shit is messy and he fucks it up, Butch keeps coming back - and that’s good enough for him.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #lone wanderer #fanfiction #mlm #jay writes #fluffyfeb

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