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roydeezed · 1 year

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Dungeon Meshi Thoughts 04

It took a lot of will power because I wanted to come here and write things multiple times but I finally reached and finished Chapter 50. Which is what I wanted to do before writing another one of these. Somebody said on my last post that they couldn’t imagine stopping every once in a while to write down my thoughts and I have to say it’s really hard not to binge the whole thing. That’s usually how I consume most manga and comic books but trying it out this way has been pretty fulfilling. I also get a vicarious joy everytime I follow along with a friend's journey with One Piece so I thought this might provide similar entertainment to Dungeon Meshi fans. Especially the wrong guesses! So this round of thoughts is covering chapters 37-50. So, for my fiftieth post I’ll talk about Dungeon Meshi up till Chapter 50. I’ll go into more in-depth past the “Keep reading” so check it out!

Wow! Everytime I think I know what’s going to happen I’m pleasantly surprised by how nuanced the actual events are. This whole ideological conflict between Shuro and Laios doesn’t devolve to a full on conflict, not if you don’t count their little catfight, but instead ends with a third option I hadn’t even considered, with Shuro planning on leaving the island. That’s such a great out to not having to resort to fighting someone or stooping to, as Shuro sees it, their level. And of course the narrative still keeps Shuro in the narrative through actual plot developments even after he makes up his mind but I’m getting ahead of myself. First of all, reading back on my past thoughts, I am so happy I predicted some of these things right! Like most of the case with the mad sorcerer. Thank you One Piece community for your insane-ass theories and break weeks. But that really speaks to how well this manga is laid out. A lot of the mistakes I made were in assuming this manga’s tone and not respecting that it could have such a nuanced plot and characters.

Let’s get going on a chronological recap/breakdown before I get distracted and lose my mind over how much I love Kabru. The answer is a lot and that will come at the end. Leaving off in Chapter 36, Laios had just told Shuro that they’d used dark magic to resurrect her, causing him to fly off the handle and point his blade at Laios. Kabru, being the little bastard(affectionate) that he is, highlights to Shuro that he would’ve done the exact same thing by exaggerating his side of things while at the same time showing Laios how serious his actions were. At the time I was reading this I wasn’t sure if Kabru had somehow luckily stumbled upon the right answer but now knowing him better, this shows his skill in social situations. This is the first major instance of him finding a third option and laying the groundwork for a peaceful solution and for everyone to also find their third option. I kind of see Kabru as synonymous with the number three. Third option and third prominent party leader after Laios and Shoru. I feel like it will be an important part of his character.

After that tense exchange Chilchuck comes in to warn them about the impending attack and learns about Laios telling Shoru and loses it. I sympathize with Chilchuck so much. In a party of complete weirdos(again affectionate) he’s the only one with a level head. We’ve also only had Laios interacting with his fellow party members who understand him and put up with him so it wasn’t until he talked with Shoru, a person who actively despised him, that it was apparent how bad he is at social interactions and reading people. He is so much purer than I thought. He really is a monster loving freak. Bless his precious heart.

He sees Falin’s new form and the first thing he thinks is how cool she is. He really does have his priorities straight. I can’t blame him though, she really does look super cool.

There’s also a great moment where Chilchuck makes Shoru and Laios command people. It’s such a great peek into the realism that’s pumped into this series as deciding on how commands are issued would be a vital part of dungeon fighting as you wouldn’t want conflicting orders. Here we also get Inutade trying to follow Shoru’s batshit insane order of holding down a griffon creature 5 times bigger than her without hurting it. I love Inutade in all the small glimpses of her we get. She’s simply adorable and I hope we get more of her. But this moment also contributes to Shoru’s decision to leave as his conflict of interest gets so many people hurt and killed.

I love how the author uses the battle to show off strong character moments such as Kabru’s no-nonsense policy towards monsters and his skill at killing humanoids or Chilchuck saving the younger halfling.

Laios accepts the fact that though he loves monsters and he loves his sister, they still are monsters.

But before he goes in for the kill, Falin shows a sign of sentience that prompts him to remember a third option just as he saves Kabru. As the sorcerer came the last time they killed the dragon there’s a chance that he would come again so they have to drive her back. But I feel like there’s going to come a moment of reckoning for Laios. Where he’ll have to firmly put a stake in the ground between monsters and not, and because this story might just do it, I worry that it will be with his sister.

They drive Falin away and revive everyone and Shoru comes to the decision that he’s gonna tell on them like a tattle tale. A snitch. A narc. We don’t like those here. Not with my boi Chilchuck around. But they also come to the conclusion that Falin’s soul was mixed in with the dragon's, making her a hybrid. And this is where Laios’s resolve to defeat the mad sorcerer becomes solidified. He’s been eating three meals a day, of course he’s serious now… fucking dork. I love my socially unaware boy.

I feel so bad though. Because he believed so earnestly that Shoru was his first real friend.

And that’s why his friendship with Senshi feels so real, because even though they don’t dive deep into Senshi’s backstory until a little bit later they still have an inherent understanding of each other.

I get it though Shoru, it makes sense.

The detail of Soru proposing to Falin without dating or expressing his feelings was also a nice touch as it showed the disconnect between cultures, especially with Chilchuck educating the younger halfling on it. It’s little things like this that build out the world so organically. Kabru evaluates Laios and finds that he could probably defeat the mad sorcerer but wonders if he’d be able to make the hard decision to seal away the dungeon. And I think he would if he had to. We’ve seen time and time again, that when presented with a solid argument, Laios, as a leader, seriously considers it and even acts on it, like trying to go back to the surface or killing Monster Falin, only being stopped by new information and outside factors.

We get a small glimpse of Kabru’s backstory and he eats monster to earn Laios’s trust. (MUST RESIST TALKING ABOUT KABRU UNTIL WE GET TO HIS PART). The party continues to lower floors and Laios casually lore drops and it makes me wonder what the chances are they can actually talk to the sorcerer. I’ll save that discussion for when they get pulled in by the citizens. But for now, we get a small little mystery where the characters get doppelgangers based on each other’s perception of them that Laios not only helps solve but he also resolves by once again being a dork. I can never say enough how much I love him. The dopplegangers tell us a lot of fun things about each person’s perception but the thing I want to focus on is that Laios definitely sees Senshi as superhot. That’s all my peabrain can fixate on from this sequence.

We also meet our newest party member not soon after! I love Izutsumi. Honestly, I love all of the party members. They all feel essential and after they introduced or a new dynamic or piece of information is unveiled it leaves me wondering how I was getting along fine without it. But Izutsumi’s messiness paired with her being a picky eater is such a fun and adorable combo. And while each member sparked off of each other and came in conflict with each other Senshi always felt like an outsider. I thought it was because he wasn’t an original part of the group but it was really because no one would directly challenge him, usually only going through Laios. With Izutsumi joining we get these moments that make them both feel like they’re a part of the team as they clash but also have wholesome and adorable moments together.

With increasing frequency I see Laios’s desire and willingness to turn animalistic and monstrous and I wonder if that payoff is that he himself turns into a monster or takes Falin’s place? Or is he only able to appreciate the difference between him and monsters because he’s a human.

I also appreciate this added depth we get into Marcille, that she’s afraid of seeing the ones she loves passing on before her. And I wonder if at the end of the dungeon she might not be the most dangerous one? We already saw she was willing to break rules to keep the ones she loves around, but with the sorcerer knowing about immortality it could tempt her. Even her wishing for his grimoire could be foreshadowing. It would be consistent with Marcille’s character arc and in the end might not even be a bad thing in context as this manga often has a habit of flipping the context on its head.

Izutsumi becoming a part of the squad not only helped Senshi feel more cohesive but her combative nature also makes things more dynamic with every other member, including fighting with Chilchuck and Marcille and making up after the fact and in the process showing off all of their best qualities. Marseille’s explanation on why she’s capitulated to a lot of Laios’s weirder whims helps me understand her a lot better as well, as she sees denying opportunities as veering further from her goal, flipping the context from it being a loss of her beliefs into a strengthening of her conviction.

OKOKOK Kabru time! Through the guise of elven negotiations we learn a lot about Kabru. One of the main things that always stood out to me about him was that despite his age and apparent lack of skill fighting monsters, he was always shrewd. And seeing how the Elves storm in like magical FBI and take over dungeons without telling anyone what happens and the fact that he was raised by them, not only makes me believe that elves behave in a much more machiavellian way but that he learnt it all from them. It’s nurture not nature and his whole motivation is quite noble. He’s such an interesting character because he can go in so many directions now. He’s helping the progress of our party and could one day be a valuable advisor to Laios, someone who respects that, but could also just as equally succumb to the power and manipulate Laios. I don’t think he will now that I’ve seen his motivation but each scene with him is so interesting. He’s got the most bird’s eye view overview of the situation and I love how he collects his information. It scratches that very specific itch of characters that are like Light from Death Note but not complete d-bags, like Shiroe from Log Horizon. And so much of how Kabru has interacted with the world makes sense now. I can’t wait to see him outmaneuver the elves because they might actually be a match for him, being equally manipulative.

Okay, I don’t know about yall but this visit into the village stuck in time seemed way off to me. A little too grimm’s fairy tales like if you know what I mean. So we know the jist already. Thistle, the mad sorcerer, was hired as a jester by Derghal’s dad. Raised alongside Derghal, he got them industry connects to become a magician and learnt magic, became mad and cast an immortality curse on the country. But being asked what drove him mad, Yaado, Derghal’s grandson says he doesn’t know. Feels a bit too clean to me. For a thousand years how can they be content not knowing. I feel like they know but are too ashamed to admit it because they drove him to madness. Then again, is it even madness? It’s love for Derghal for sure, but there could be more too. Why’s he only looking for Derghal after six years? Of course it could be that six years barely counts as time passed to Thistle but the clues feel too significant to ignore. Anyways, I wanted to bring it up before I continued, even though I don’t have a proper answer to what they could’ve done.

Next, we get another thing I’ve waited for, Senshi’s backstory! And some more information on Chilchuck. Before we dive into Senshi’s past I want to talk about Chilchuck. Since Senshi was basically a baby when he went into the dungeon, does that make Chilchuck comparatively the oldest as not only did the other halfling call him an elder at 29 years of age, but he also has a wife and child! That he can’t see for some reason. I can’t wait to see his tragic backstory. I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that he’s always seemed the most guarded. It seemed like a really big leap of faith for Chilchuck to share about himself like that.

But then we learn about Senshi. He came into the dungeon when he was a kid and lost his whole party and believed he had eaten them because of the way things played out. It’s also why he avoided forming attachments. Laios eventually helps him figure out that he did not in fact canniablize his fellow dwarves and they walk away happily before becoming changed. But with this, the character who facilitated this entire premise, of cooking monsters you kill in a dungeon, also become the character we know the most about, knowing most of his motivations and reasons over the last ten years. It’s a really confident move and I’m curious to see how it affects the dynamics going forwards because it’s such a 180 from the past 48 chapter as we knew next to nothing about Senshi until now. One thing I do wonder is that if Senshi's desire to not have eaten his companions was so strong, could it have manilpualted the meat to make it seem like he did eat hippogriffs before? Because this time th meat was only transformed after being cut so the mushrooms could have changed it to dwarf meat to go along with Senshi's desires. It's probably not that dark but I couldn't help theorizing. With them having been changed by the mushrooms we’ve caught up with chapter 50 and I’ll leave it here as it’s getting quite long. See ya’ll next time!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #manga recap #manga discussion

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parfumieren · 11 months

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Sables (Annick Goutal)

(This is a reblog with edits. I wasn't happy with the original and went in to make some alterations only to find that the post would not save with its changes. Please forgive my starting anew!)

Some years ago, I engaged in a happy email debate with a perfumista friend on the burning question: What perfume did author Edith Wharton wear?

Having read of Wharton’s sojourns in Northern Africa, I proposed a spicy attar purchased as a memento of the Tunisian souks. In contrast, my friend suggested “a sparkling cologne with the hot herbs of the garrigue… something, in any case, that would sort with her outwardly brittle and aspersive manner and severe prose style; with the wish for fresh water in the cut flowers each day in order to have the bubbles clinging to the stems…” With this gorgeous image in mind, I conceded that the author of Italian Villas and Their Gardens would have more likely leaned towards florals– and would have exhibited a fierce and exacting discernment in her choice.

Cue the segue to a second question: What would her fictional characters choose?

For this round of our game, we opted not to limit ourselves to era-specific perfumes. On Undine Spragg - Custom of the Country’s aspirational butterfly – I would have pinned Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle. But within a month she’d toss it in the trash, flat-out furious to be stuck with a fragrance that “everyone wore”. My pal recommended the very virile Tabac Blond or any contemporary pairing of “icky girly candy-floss and man-eating chypre”– most likely blazoned with Paris Hilton’s name. She went on to say:

…not only would (Undine) have… preferred the celebrity brand to the actual scent but would herself have BEEN one of those celebrities… perhaps her fragrance would have been marketed as ‘Quinze Minuits’, to signify the evanescent and meaningless Town Topics fame for which she is so eager. She might even have been Warhol’s muse in a different decade…

Interesting food for thought. Undoubtedly, Undine and Warhol would have been helpless in the face of each other’s gravitational pull. And I, for one, would pay good money to witness the first meeting between Undine and Ondine– catfight!

Like most after-the-fact Factory fans, I regard the magnificently doomed Edie Sedgwick as the fifteen-minute Idol Supreme of that time. But Edie turned out more along the lines of The House of Mirth’s Lily Bart– a tragic heroine bred to be rich and ornamental but condemned to failure by the total absence of real-life coping skills. Just as Edie lived and died in a fog of Fracas, Lily would have exhaled her last breath in Serge Lutens’ Tubéreuse Criminelle… if that deathly (and now discontinued) masterpiece hadn’t been too rich for her blood.

No, Undine Spragg would be too clever to fall into one of Edie/Lily’s bottomless pits. I envision her as more the Angie Bowie type– shrewd, opportunistic, perennially on the make. I briefly considered Jicky for her, but something tells me she’d want something exclusive—not to mention expensive enough to bankrupt all three of her husbands. (Would Clive Christian’s No. 1 suffice? It’s got a real live diamond on the bottle!)

Arriving at Ellen Olenska - the timeless iconoclast of The Age of Innocence - the game grew more serious, quite in keeping with its subject. Would a daughter of Old New York opt for simple floral modesty, or would marriage to a European count lure her over to rich amber and spices? I suggested we split the difference and opt for helichrysum—that austere bloom known to perfumers as immortelle.

I’ve read any number of reviews comparing the scent of immortelle to maple syrup. (Which grade? Dark amber? Grade C Non-Commercial?) Some liken it to fenugreek seeds– which, coincidentally, are used in the production of artificial maple flavoring. (The mysterious pancake-breakfast smell that wafted occasionally over Manhattan some years ago was eventually traced to a fenugreek processing plant in North Jersey). Add to this a powdery, ground-spice quality which evokes dried blossoms on long, silvery stems, collecting a century’s worth of dust before their fragrance fades to nothing.

Above all, immortelle exudes the smell of burnt sugar– smoky, unsettling, and inedible. If you heat simple syrup past the moment of caramelization, it turns black and tarry in the pan. At that point, you will find that there is no sweetness left in the sugar at all. It is bitter as hell and (when cool) brittle enough to cut your tongue, with an odor at once venomous and addictive.

Which brings me (at long last!) to Sables by Annick Goutal.

I have been given to understand that Goutal formulated Sables as a tribute to her husband, but its combination of tenacity and delicacy perfectly suits Countess Olenska, a woman both prized and excoriated for the virile independence of her nature. Here’s a sample, culled from a conversation between her and Newland Archer:

“I think you’re the most honest woman I ever met!” he exclaimed. “Oh, no– but probably one of the least fussy,” she answered, a smile in her voice. “Call it what you like: you look at things as they are.” “Ah– I’ve had to. I’ve had to look at the Gorgon.” “Well– it hasn’t blinded you! You’ve seen that she’s just an old bogey like all the others.” “She doesn’t blind one; but she dries up one’s tears.”

Sables has an antique quality to it, like a piece of amber crushed velvet taken from a costume of the Belle Epoque– something which sits softly on the skin and reminds you of its presence only in whispers. However, all that softness and luxury hides one mother of a backbone. Those looking for dessert in a spray bottle must look elsewhere: Sables is a resolutely bitter scent with no ameliorating sweetness, unadorned by peripheral notes that might detract from its charred majesty. Less is more: Annick Goutal did well to let immortelle stand on its own.

A word must also be said for Sables’ staying power. Rarely will one find a perfume with such welcome tenacity. (Usually, it’s the ones that make your gorge rise or your eyes water that refuse to go away.) Sables exhibits amazing persistence, lasting all throughout the day and night with no need for second applications. And yet, at no time does its scent become boring or tedious. This is a perfume for life.

Ideal for a woman who has survived the fire and carries the aching heart to prove it.

Scent Elements: Immortelle, cinnamon, Mysore sandalwood, Indonesian and Madagascar pepper, smoked tea, amber

#sables #annick goutal #perfume review #parfümieren

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ninetyfivepercentdantomasik · 3 years

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Great Characters: Yu Takeyama, aka “Mt. Lady” (My Hero Academia)

The longer I read My Hero Academia, the more it becomes clear I could write one of these essays on literally almost every character in the series. The writing is that good. With the release of the latest volume in English, we got to see a lot of a character who’s been around since the very first chapter but has proven very difficult to get a read on. The Giant Hero, Mt. Lady. Even for MHA, she’s such an unconventional character, I thought she merited a post.

With this in mind:

****SPOILERS****

Mt. Lady (real name Yu Takeyama) is not what comes to mind when we think of a great hero. Quite the opposite, her behavior often paints her to be the model of a terrible hero. Vain, petty, cheap, lazy; her introduction to both the series and the Pro Hero World was to killsteal another hero. Literally appearing out of nowhere to blindside the villain, she then turned on the charm to her audience/onlookers watching the fight take place. Her definitive knockout, impressive Quirk, coupled with the fact she’s a hot 20-something who knows how to flaunt her sex appeal, made her an instant name in the Pro Hero circuit. In addition, it established the joke that would pretty much define her character for the rest of the series; a hero with Gigantism who is never above picking the low-hanging fruit.

All of her future appearances would go on to drive this point home. At the Sports Festival, she shamelessly flirts with a vendor for free food in front of her fellow heroes. A student who interns at her agency spends most of it cleaning her apartment and doing chores while she lounges on a couch reading magazines. In a TV spot with heroine Midnight, a discussion of censorship in hero costumes ends up a televised catfight when Mt. Lady takes some jabs at Midnight’s age & supposed “sex appeal”. On a high-value job, she whines & complains about having to detain gross semi-human experiments while other heroes confront the important bad guys. Literally every appearance seems to further drive home the point that Mt. Lady is just a vapid, self-obsessed freeloader skating by on her looks & other people’s hard work.

What seems to always pass under people’s radar, however, are some tendencies towards genuine heroic behavior during every incident she finds herself involved in. The first chapter ends with a situation that no available heroes (including Mt. Lady) can resolve, however, when a hero does appear and blast the villain away, Mt. Lady protects both the civilians and other heroes from the resulting shockwave. Collateral control, not a flashy part of the Pro Hero lifestyle, but an essential one. When her entire squad gets taken down in a single blast by a villain leagues above their ability to face, she makes a surprise reappearance to prevent a villain from escaping by catching him with her face. As she falls back into unconsciousness with a newly received bloody nose, she mumbles, “mission is all that matters”. Most recently & impressively, we watched Mt. Lady go multiple rounds with Gigantomachia. A behemoth of a villain with a version of her own Gigantism Quirk, as well as six other Quirks, all specifically chosen to allow him to bulldoze through anything & everything in his path. Despite this, Mt. Lady managed three accomplishments that not a single one of the hundreds of other Pro Heroes assembled against the Walking Calamity achieved. She stood her ground. She slowed him down. She came back for more. None of these sound impressive until one considers that the greatest achievement any other Pro Hero accomplished against Big G was surviving. She lasted longer than the hundreds of other Pro Heroes and the 20+ populated cities that also stood in Gigantomachia’s way. Mt. Lady got rag-dolled by the big lug twice before she finally went down.

This fight allows us to finally see the heroic side of Mt. Lady that I’m starting to think has always been there, but hidden under quite a lot of genuine petty behavior. One thing that stands out among of all her appearances doing actual hero work is that she always does her job. Other Pros might reprimand her behavior, her attitude, and her shamelessness, but they can’t criticize her work. She shows that “Plus Ultra” mentality recognized in some of the greatest heroes. That mindset of continuing to fight even when you should probably stay down. Looking back, all of her contributions make an important impact, save lives, and allow the mission to succeed. Even when she doesn’t receive much credit. What that says to me is that Mt. Lady is actually more focused on doing her job than just becoming famous.

That’s what makes the character so interesting; this combination of seemingly contradictory behaviors that nevertheless coexist with each other. I’ve seen other posts calling this inconsistent characterization, but both sides have been present in the character since chapter 1. Mt. Lady is petty, but she is also reliable. She is heroic, but she is also lazy. She is selfish, but she is also cooperative. She is strong, but she is also shameless. What we really have here is a multi-dimensional female character who knows how to play the game of being a Pro Hero. Being strong is fine, but if you can’t make a name for yourself you’ll probably end up a sidekick. Being sexy is fine, but if your work suffers as a result the time will come when you may have to pick one or the other. Dealing with the media is an authentic aspect of heroism that is often overlooked. In a society where being a superhero is a legitimate career, newspapers won’t treat every hero like Superman or every villain like the Joker. Mt. Lady’s debut was noteworthy because, while the villain was a simple mugger, his Quirk was flashy and caught people’s attention. As capable as the other Pro Hero, Kamui Woods, might have been, his Quirk was a poor match for a villain with Gigantism. Resolving the situation immediately may not have been polite, but it gave Mt. Lady the chance to showcase all her talents at once, exactly what one wants for their introduction.

I think what we’re looking at is a female character who manages to showcase both heroism & realism. Mt. Lady acts like a hero, as well as like an early-20s young woman. She embraces her sex appeal unlike so many other heroines that are written to avoid the subject like the plague. There’s this antiquated idea that if a Woman Character displays an interest in sex, it lessens them, somehow. That if a member of the female gender is to be the hero, she must be virginal, prudish, and never swayed by base desires. She must be sexy, but not have sex. On the other hand, Man Characters having sex just makes them seem better (as long as that sex is heterosexual sex with a hot woman readers also want to sleep with). It’s a double-standard we have yet to rid ourselves of. We don’t hold Mt. Lady to any of these ridiculous standards because she flaunts her sex appeal like a reality TV star instead of shunning it like a Final Girl. She’s in a relationship with one of her fellow Pro Heroes, the very same one she stole the spotlight from in her debut. Such a relationship changes the questions readers ask. Instead of, “ooh, is it going to be spicy?”, we ask, “why would he date the one person he should dislike most?”. It creates these nagging thoughts we may not get resolutions for, because when do we ever really understand what’s going on in a celebrity romance? I for one think maybe Kamui Woods is starting to see both the heroic aspects of Mt. Lady and the advantages of playing to media attention. As Mt. Lady demonstrates, heroes can do both.

I am so unbelievably psyched to see Mt. Lady vs Gigantomachia when the anime finally gets to it. Gonna be awesome.

#great characters #rant #character #mt lady #mount lady #mha #my hero academia #mt. lady #yu takeyama #female characters #sex appeal #heroes can do both #superhero #hero #flawed hero #spoilers

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sapiowoman28 · 3 years

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Whipped Part 4: thank you, again.

Pairing: jeno and may

genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut

Warning: oral (male receiving), unprotected sex (practice safe sex people!)

Jeno had a problem, and there was only one person who could help him - May.

May, unfortunately, was unconvinced.

"You're telling me you want ME to get sarcarstic with Y/N and Jaemin because YOU don't have the guts to do so?" she asked. "And what's the problem again?"

"They're too loud." Jeno muttered, tapping his foot impatiently.

"And how is that a problem? We're both loud too when we do it. I've had sex with you 5 times in the past three days and we were always loud! Even you! You were so loud just now!"

Jeno smiled shyly. She giggled.

"I want a third round!" she pouted.

"The dick is dead!" he declared, as they both started laughing.

The past week had been wonderful. They were getting used to their new arrangement, and were back to being comfy with each other. The teasing and snark were back. As long as they didn't have to talk about their feelings, they were fine.

"So are you helping me or not?" Jeno pouted. "Come to dinner with us, and snark them into keeping quiet."

"I'll think about it." she said.

She said she would think about it, but agreed in the end anyway. They could never say no to each other. So there she was, at his house, at the dining table with everyone, who kept stealing glances at her and Jeno.

"I don't have a problem with people staring at me. You can look openly, Haechan." May smiled as Y/N clapped in approval.

"I wasn't looking!" Haechan protested.

"Well since you're dating Jeno, get used to Haechan being rude." Renjun quipped, earning a glare from Haechan.

"We're not dating." Jeno said.

"We're just fucking." May shrugged.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

"You wouldn't want to date Jeno anyway. He dumps the girl after a few years." Y/N grinned, trying to crack a joke.

Jeno froze as May smiled. It was one of her... scary smiles.

"I know you guys are childhood friends and all. But how do you know he dumped them?" she asked pointedly, scary smile and all.

The whole table went silent.

"Erm. He never told me." Y/N gulped, inching closer to her boyfriend.

"It's ok, Y/N..." Jeno started as Jaemin started apologising.

"No it's not ok. I'm sick of people talking about you like you're a player. Why don't you ever tell them what happened?" she looked at him.

"Come on, May. I don't care what people think." Jeno folded his arms, tone firm now.

"Listen, Jeno's first girlfriend left him after four years cos her parents told her to. Not because of anything else. And his second girlfriend cheated on him. And he doesn't tell anyone about all these cos he's a gentleman."

"She's right. Only I know." Jaemin said quietly. "And I'm sworn to secrecy."

"I'm sorry." Y/N said. "Maybe we should leave."

"No don't" Jeno protested, looking at May.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to scare you. But I hate it when people say he's a player. He only doesn't do relationships cos he got burnt. Not once, but twice." May said, rubbing her am. Y/N smile.

Haechan let out a sigh.

"Damn," he said. "I thought we were going to get a chance to witness a catfight. Hair pulling and all."

Renjun let out a groan, flicking his finger against Haechan's forehead.

Jeno was impressed. After dinner was over, May and Y/N had a long talk, and by the end of the night, Y/N and Jaemin agreed to move into one room - the one currently occupied by Renjun, while Renjun would take over Jaemin's room. The guys would then look for a new housemate. Apparently there was a guy called Yang Yang in one of Haechan's classes who was looking for a room and it would be perfect if he could move in.

"You're amazing." he said, as he drove her home. Her hand was still on his knee - it had become a habit whenever he drove with her in the car. He liked it. But he couldn't tell her.

"I know," she giggled.

"I want to make love to you when we get to your house." he said.

She looked at him, a dangerous look in her eyes. The dick was gonna be dead.

They wasted no time stripping when they got into her room. She pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him, her eyes sparkling. He pulled her down and kissed her, his mouth smashed against hers, their tongues against each other.

He turned them around and now he was on top of her, taking her nipple into his mouth.

"Why did you take so long to talk to them" he asked. "I was dying to have you."

"So impatient!" she chided.

"With you I will always be impatient." he groaned as she grabbed at his cock, spreading his precum across his head. Stroking him, they started kissing again. He was addicted to her mouth - so soft against his lips.

She pushed him off, getting on top of him now, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, as he watched her. Slowly, she got between his thighs, giving him a playful wink.

"Do it," he begged. "Suck me. I'm all yours."

She gave the head of his cock a few licks, eliciting a gasp from him. Slowly she began to twirl her tongue around him, moving it down his shaft. Then, she finally took all of him into her mouth.

She grabbed his hand, putting it on top of her head. He stroked her hair. She started bobbing on his cock, and he watched, loving every minute of her mouth.

Suddenly she stopped.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"You can move my head with your hands you know. Or fuck my mouth. Why don't you? I noticed you only just play with my hair or stroke my face." she looked at him questioningly.

"I can't."

"Why?"

He had no answers. He couldnt understand why he couldn't do it with her either. He did it with other girls.

"I don't want you to gag." he finally said.

"I don't mind." she said.

He pulled her towards him.

"I'm not going to do that." he said, touching her cheek. She leaned in, kissing him hungrily. he pushed her down against the pillows, positioning his cock against her core, pushing in.

He started thrusting in and out at the speed she liked. He knew her likes and dislikes by hard now, and what angle to take for his cock to hit her spot.

She wrapped her legs loosely around him, letting out moans of delight. And when she came he felt his heart swell.

He turned her over, entering her from behind. Her moans were melodious, as she grabbed at the pillows, screaming into them. He thrusted harder, giving her light slaps on her ass. He was close now.

"Come for me, Jeno," she begged. He couldn't help but comply, coming into her before collapsing on top of her and kissing her shoulder. She giggled, turning to kiss him.

"The dick is dead." she declared.

He stayed over that night. It was a weekend after all. And when he woke up in the morning, he watched as she lay on "her" side of the bed. He didn't know how long he was watching her but she suddenly stirred awake, stretching like a cat.

"You're creepy." she said. "Watching me like that."

"I like being a creep," he grinned.

"Well you're still looking at me weird."

"Thanks for standing up for me last night." he said.

"See? I did it without punching anyone!" she said, making a point.

"I love you." he said. She smile. as she leaned against his chest.

"Thank you, Jeno." she replied, burying her face in it.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #lee jeno imagines #na jaemin imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin imagines

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, fingering, t h r e e s o m e, cum eating, sloppy seconds kinda?, multiple orgasms, creampie, cumshot, nipple play, tender manhandling, overstimulation, praise, this one has me hot and bothered folks

DAY FOUR

It’s dark when you wake up, still feeling slightly floaty. Beside you, Taehyung still snores away, naked bar for his pair of boxers and the sheets draped lazily over his torso. He looks peaceful, face angelic and chest rising and falling deeply. The sight of him almost makes you want to fall asleep then and there, but your throat is parched and your mouth is dry.

Perhaps sleeping the day away wasn’t wise, but still you dress in dim silence, padding down the stairs with bare feet and nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt - even more oversized on you - and a fresh pair of panties.

This is the first time you’ve really been out of your room at this hour, and you marvel at the enveloping stillness of the air. No lights, only the creeping moonlight to guide your way to the kitchen, eager to ease your dry mouth. The refrigerator light makes your eyes ache as you pull out a bottle of water, uncapping it with a sigh and leaning back against the countertop, gulping almost a third of it down before your brain starts to pang at the sudden cold.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at the sudden voice, glancing up to see the round, pale face of Min Yoongi peeking over the couch. In such deeply–set quiet, you feel the need to speak lowly, just enough for him to hear. “Just woke up, actually.”

He combs through the dyed honey blonde of his hair as his eyes narrow in disbelief. “Is that Taehyung’s shirt from this morning? So that’s where the two of you have been all day. You must’ve really gone at it like rabbits, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Jesus,” you groan. “I must’ve been asleep more than 12 hours then. I feel like I’ve woken up from a coma or something, I swear.”

“That good, huh?” he says in a teasing tone as you take another sip of water.

“Go upstairs and see for yourself if you’re so curious,” you retort.

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is different. Softer. “Come sit.”

You obey silently, a little huff forced out of your lungs when you drop onto the couch beside him, cradling the bottle of water between your knees as you wait for him to say something, explain why he’d asked you over.

The blonde-haired man scoffs softly, nudging your shoulder. “Come on, I’m not telling you off or anything. If you want to go, you can go, but I thought you might like some company.”

The air is warmer here beside him. “I’ll stay,” you answer quietly.

“Three days,” he muses, his voice bringing colour to the dark room. “Why does it feel like weeks?”

You hum, unable to think of a reply that would comfort him. “What would you have been doing if you weren’t here right now?”

Yoongi’s legs are crossed, much like how Jimin always sits, but it gives off a far more casual vibe as he slumps, butt resting almost right on the edge of the cushion. “I’d probably still be up. I’d just be up alone.”

“Night owl?” you question, tucking one foot up under you so you can face him more.

“Lonely,” he answers simply, eyes focused on the table in front of him.

You don’t know what to say. Luckily, it seems like he’s not finished, but just taking a pause to collect his thoughts. You’ve been noticing that Yoongi seems like the type to mean every word he says, and consider each one carefully.

“I thought I‌ was picking a career filled with people,” he elaborates, voice flickering low like a single flame. “I guess in some ways, both health practitioning and teaching are fairly sociable jobs. But I rarely see the same person twice. There was a time when I thought I preferred it like that. I’ve never been a social butterfly like some of the guys here. But after a few years, you just feel so hollowed out by it.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, head resting on the back of the couch. “And now?”

“Now?” he repeats with a frown.

“Are you still lonely now?”

He attempts a smile. “I can’t decide.”

You frown at his sullen tone. “We all love having you here, you know? Seokjin really appreciates your help in the kitchen, the two youngest both adore you, Namjoon respects you so much and I’m pretty sure Hoseok and Jimin would’ve had a catfight in the living room if it wasn’t for your level-headedness.”

Yoongi brightens a little bit, just enough for his lips to twitch, genuinely this time. Slowly, his eyes slide over to meet yours. “And you?”

You slip the tip of your tongue out enough to wet your lips. “I- If it’s okay, I’d rather show you my appreciation.”

His eyes are molten as they search your face for any signs of hesitation. When they find none, he uncrosses his legs, splaying them apart, and leans over to press lightly at your shoulder. “Lean back,” he instructs, the soft tone replaced with a casual roughness that he usually spoke with.

You swallow, letting the water bottle between your legs fall to the floor as you lie back, head resting against the arm of the couch.

Yoongi looks down at you, distaste flitting across his features. Your heart stops for a moment before he reaches out to tug at the hem of your baggy shirt. Tae‘s baggy shirt. “Take this off,” he orders with a grumble.

You ditch it hastily, wanting Yoongi’s hands on you, and shiver at the sudden cold, lying beneath him in nothing but your panties. “Yoongi,” you whisper, back arching as an incentive for him to touch you.

Reverently, a wide hand dips down, fingertips running over your shoulder, your bare chest and stomach, and back up to cup your breast, squeezing just enough to make you sigh, wanting more. As he fondles it, Yoongi adjusts his stance, hooking one leg between you and the back of the couch, propping himself up with his other arm so that he can lean down over you.

Rather than kissing you straight away, he watches your face with a look like hunger, drinking in your every reaction as his fingers slip up to pass over the stiffened peak, thumbing it so it continues to plump up.

You let out a breathy moan, tipping your chin up towards him. The hand on your breast slips up to cup your face, big enough that the tips of his fingers dip into your hair. It’s overwhelming; his legs on either side of you, and your face cradled in his tender grasp, bracketed between the back of the couch and his arm. Finally, his face lowers enough for his lips to brush yours, and your eyes slip closed in bliss.

This close, every breath is lined with his scent, rich yet tangy like mint and caramel, a juxtaposition that suits him perfectly. His lips on yours are like fine silk, brushing so lightly that you tremble at the intimacy of it. Every movement is painfully precise, languid. His fingers gently play with your hair like he can’t quite keep them still, but his lips take their time with you. The two of you are in your own world, alone to savour every delicate touch. No one else is awake, so you let the butterflies in your stomach grow and the flutter on your lips continue, hands wandering lower to where his shirt - a white tee with the letters FG stamped in black on the front - is slightly tucked into a pair of plaid boxer shorts. He sighs heavily onto your lips when your fingers first touch his skin, tracing a line just above the waistband.

“You have no idea,” he confesses in a hush, “how long I’ve waited to feel you.”

You gasp when his head dips lower, lips brushing your ear, your jaw, down your throat to press a trail of chaste kisses along the base of your throat, his tongue darting out to flick kitten licks over your pulse point. “Yoongi,” you sigh, “you don’t have to wait any longer.”

“Y/n?”

Yoongi groans at the distant voice that breaks the silence. “Please just ignore it,” he mutters under his breath. “He’ll be fine.”

You bite your lip, ears straining to work out where Taehyung’s voice came from. It sounds like he’s upstairs, the sound lofty.

There’s only a moment of silence, Yoongi nudging your jaw with his nose to tip it back again, kisses slightly more insistent down the column of your throat, before you hear a thud.

“Y/n?” Taehyung repeats, voice calling out slightly louder into the dark of the house. “Did you go downstairs?”

Yoongi lets out a rushed exhale. “Fuck.” Sitting up off of you, he reaches down to pass you Tae’s shirt off the floor. Yoongi’s jaw ticks as you put it back on. “Just tell him you’re busy.”

You send him a look, before stepping up and out into the kitchen, taking the water bottle with you. “Down here, Tae,” you reply. His response is given in the noisy thuds of him coming down the stairs, and soon enough his face pops around the corner, brightening when he sees you.

“I woke up alone,” he says with a playful pout, hands finding your waist to press your bodies together, rocking the two of you back and forth. “Come back to bed.”

You force yourself not to glance over at the couch, feeling strangely guilty. Instead, you smile at Taehyung. “We slept all day. I feel too awake now.”

“Then let’s try out your bath! I saw some bath bombs there. Or we can make bubbles?”

You think you hear a faint huff in the living room but you ignore it, letting yourself be anchored in the slow swaying, looking up at Taehyung. “I’m sorry, Tae, I’m not really in the mood. You can have one, if you want? I don’t mind.”

“But then that’s not…” You see the wheels turning in Taehyung’s head, an excited smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure? Thank you, Y/n! Come join me if you want!”

He pulls away from you, and an odd stir of relief stirs in your chest. “Have fun,” you say weakly, and he ducks his head to press a kiss on your forehead before turning back the way he came, jumping noisily up the stairs.

In the living room, Yoongi’s head once again pops up over the back of the couch. “Coast is clear?” he questions in a joking tone, but you can’t muster a smile. Yoongi stands up, brows furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

You sink back against the counter, staring sullenly at the half-empty water bottle in your hands. “Why do I feel like an asshole, Yoongi?”

He’s beside you quicker than you expect, hands gently pressing under your jaw to lift your gaze up to his. “Hey, hey,” he coos gently, eyes warm with reassurance, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

You hate the way your eyes water, but you can’t help it. His thumbs are on your cheeks, brushing away the tears as they fall, and you tip your head back in an effort to prevent them, taking a shuddering breath. “I‌ feel so bad for them, Yoongi?”

“For who?”

You sniff. “Namjoon and Tae. The other day, Namjoon told me he- that he-”

“Shh, I‌ know, he told us,” Yoongi murmurs, his own eyes glistening at the sight of you in tears. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to still your thudding heart. “But he likes me and now Tae is… I don’t know, but I’m worried that he might too, and then… Then I’m the asshole for sleeping with seven people at once.” You shrug with a bitter, teary laugh. “How can I act all coupley with Tae or try anything like that with Namjoonie when I know that I‌ can’t promise them anything?”

Yoongi’s lips part, moving silently as he seeks the right words. After a moment, he sighs, cupping your face one last time before lowering his hands, one rubbing at your back, making you sigh at the comfort. “I’ll be honest, Y/n,” he begins slowly, “I know all there is to know about sex physically, but- In this case, I don’t think I’m the right person to give you advice.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, wiping your eyes and sniffing to clear your nose.

“No, no, I think you should chat with someone about this, and if I’m honest, I could use some advice too.” You give him a frown of confusion, and he grimaces with a sheepish grin. “When Taehyung called out for you, I’ll admit I wanted to beat that brat for interrupting us when he’d already had his turn. But I shouldn’t think of him or you that way, it’s not healthy. I think perhaps you and I should go upstairs and talk to Seokjin-hyung, Y/n. Do you think you’d want that?”

“He’s probably asleep,” you deflect, though you can’t deny that you could do with an expert opinion at a time like this.

“Probably,” Yoongi agrees lightly, pressing on your back to begin guiding you towards the stairs, “but I think he’d much rather you wake him up than agonise over it for hours while he sleeps.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay, I’d like to go see him. Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” His hand slips into yours as he leads you up the stairs, but rather than anything with deeper meaning, it just speaks of comfort, a squeeze of reassurance as he knocks on Jin’s door, across the hall from yours.

Jin answers after the fourth knock, squinting into the hallway with a yawn. “Jungkook, for the last time, I- Oh.” The annoyance on his face drops, eyes widening with concern even as he blinks slowly, still half-asleep. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we come in, hyung?” Yoongi asks instead. “Some emergency midnight counselling?”

“It’s-” Jin breaks off to look back into his room, groaning at the time. You wince, bracing yourself for a scolding. “Almost five in the morning. I once had a baker schedule weekly sessions for three a.m. before he went to work, this is nothing. Come inside and make yourselves comfy.”

Your shoulders go slack with relief, letting yourself be pulled inside by your still-entwined hands.

Jin’s room is tidy but lived in; the floors are clean of stray clothes or other belongings, but the head of his bed is laden with different sized stuffed toys and the sweet smell of french pear fills the air from a diffuser resting on the window sill. You sit cross-legged and lean against the headboard, grabbing a round white plushie to hug for emotional support. Yoongi sits at the foot of the bed, and Jin comes and tugs on a dressing gown, perfectly spaced between the two of you as he takes a seat in the middle, legs stretched out across the width of the bed.

“Now,” Jin begins softly, and with that one word you feel yourself safe under his authority, cared for. His relaxed but introspective posture, the non-judgemental warmth on his face and the inviting guidance of his tone combine together to ease the tension in your chest. You send Yoongi a quick glance of gratitude, and he smiles back. “I want to begin,” Jin continues, “by reassuring the two of you that you’re both safe, and there’s no time pressure here. No emergency. Whatever problems you’re having, let’s work through them together. I’d love to say this is entirely confidential, however-” Jin breaks off to wordlessly gesture at the blinking red light of the camera aimed towards the bed. “But, it will be kept confidential between us and not spread to the other members of the house. Who would like to explain what’s going on?”

You nod your chin at Yoongi, and he laughs softly, sitting up. “Alright then. The issue of jealousy is beginning to rear its ugly head. Y/n is feeling guilty about it, and I admit I’m not completely innocent of feeling a bit jealous myself.”

“Jealous? How so?”

“Well, look where we are,” Yoongi explains rhetorically. “Y/n’s here to have sex with seven different guys in close proximity. It seems some of the others have begun to get intimacy and romance in the equation.”

You pipe up, clutching the soft toy for comfort. “How am I supposed to reciprocate anything like that when I know I’m going to turn around and let six other guys have a go too?”

Yoongi winces at the wording. “Which is where my issue comes into play. I don’t want to think this way, like we’re all taking our turn with Y/n, because she’s not an object, but at the same time it’s hard to not feel that possessiveness.”

Jin nods, mulling it over for a few moments. “If it becomes a bigger problem, I think we’d be better off discussing it as eight, or however many of us are still in the house. It’s entirely natural to feel romantic inclinations, or possessive inclinations, or guilt over dealing with the two,” he directs the latter at you, “but of course conflict and guilt should be avoided, and in this situation we have to be careful that we monitor our emotions well. Y/n; what is your thought process when you begin to feel guilty?”

You bite your lip, leaning your head back against the headboard with a shrug. “I don’t know, it’s like… It feels wrong to act couple-y or seek out anything romantic with any of you guys because I know I can’t be loyal or commit to being exclusive. But I also can’t stop people from feeling that way. So I don’t know what to do. I’m like- I’m quite literally sleeping with the competition.”

“Okay,” Jin responds smoothly, nodding in thought. “Are you worried about feeling romantic inclinations for members in the house?”

“But then it wouldn’t be fair to the rest who are still trying to do their best in the game,” you point out.

The therapist just smiles softly. “That wasn’t the question I asked.”

Cheeks burning, you stare at the blanket underneath you. You can’t look at either of them. “…Not yet,” you admit honestly, “but honestly, yeah, I’m worried I might.” You glance up again, seeking out Jin’s gaze pleadingly, needing advice. “And what if I liked multiple people? Then they’d be directly competing against each other. It’s messy.”

“We don’t-” It’s Yoongi that speaks up, cutting himself off with a sigh. Jin nods at him to continue after he pauses in uncertainty. Yoongi scratches at his neck self-consciously. “I don’t think we’re all taking this insanely seriously and personally. Sometimes I walk in on Taehyung and Jungkook sharing porn, or Jin-hyung and Hoseok giggling away like two scheming toddlers as they try and make pancakes shaped like dicks.” Jin’s ears go flaming red at this, but he doesn’t interrupt. “We’re all well aware of how crazy this is. Yeah, maybe sometimes we feel a bit possessive over you, or competitive, but on a rational level we aren’t acting like we’re at war, you know? We don’t necessarily… have to be in direct competition.”

Jin gives him another moment in case he has anything else to add, before sending him an appreciative smile. “Very well said, Yoongi. I think as long as we’re all communicative when those issues like jealousy do arise, it won’t cause any major conflicts. Does that bring you any comfort, Y/n?”

You realise once he says your name that your eyes have stopped watering and your chest has stopped thudding so sickly. “Yeah,” you answer honestly, “it does. Thank you, guys. Though I guess- Well, even if you aren’t taking it as seriously as the Olympics, you are still competing against each other. Even if it’s just friendly fire, I’m still torn in the middle.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Yoongi shoots back earnestly.

“How does it not?” you question with a frown.

The two older men share a glance, Jin giving the slightest nod before Yoongi turns back to you. “Producer Sejin said it didn’t have to be one-on-one. If you’d like, we could show you that we can work together.”

“If you’d like,” Jin purrs, a hand reaching out to gently clasp your knee, “we could share.”

“Share me?” you ask weakly. The two of them nod, Yoongi looking nervous, Jin at-ease. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Jin says with a teasing smile. “Do you want to go give Yoongi a kiss for me, baby?”

Though it’s a command more than a question, you nod, and toss the stuffed toy aside, crawling forward, over Jin’s outstretched legs to where Yoongi sits, cross-legged like you were. A guiding hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in to straddle him, and you feel a thin bolt of excitement run up your core as Yoongi tilts his head back to look up at you, his honeyed locks falling to either side of his head. He’s beautiful, from this angle; lips so delicate and pink like a cherub, but with a blazing need swirling in his blown pupils. And though you can’t see him from this angle, Jin’s eyes feel like a hot brand on your back, making you shudder.

You link your wrists behind his neck and dip your head down, eyes slipping closed as you finally feel the pressure of his lips rising to greet you. Yoongi’s kisses are still soft and gentle, but the third presence in the room has lit a fire under the both of you, and each movement feels deeper, greedier.

Yoongi’s hand finds your ass as you make out, and he presses you in towards him, encouraging you to grind against him. Still in nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt and a pair of panties, you can feel him achingly hot and hard against you, stiff in the confines of his boxers.

Expecting to hear Jin speak up with praise or teasing words, you jump when instead it’s his hand sweeping back your hair that he begins with, collecting it in a handheld ponytail, tugging just slightly and exposing your neck. You let out a breathy moan into Yoongi’s mouth when you feel plush lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, fingers pushing the wide neck of Taehyung’s shirt to one side, exposing a shoulder. Jin methodically, languidly, places a chain of kisses down your throat and the top of your shoulder. Unlike Yoongi’s butterfly kisses, Jin’s touch is all teeth and tongue, making you feel dizzy with desire.

You whimper at the loss of Jin’s mouth on you, followed quickly by Yoongi pulling away, and your head spins. It’s only a moment, though, before you feel a set of hands finding the bottom of your shirt, the other set unlinking your arms from around Yoongi’s neck, holding them up so Jin can pull the fabric up and over your head, discarding it and running his palms on every inch of bare skin he can see.

Your head lolls back and eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of Jin’s slightly-rough palms stroking your hips, back, shoulders, and you feel him shuffle forward on his knees until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath on the nape of your neck. You bite your lip when he grips your hips, holding you steady.

Your breath catches in anticipation, and suddenly there’s a wet heat around your right nipple. You let out a strangled moan at the feeling of Yoongi’s mouth on you, tongue flicking endlessly over the stiffened peak. “Oh- oh god,” you gasp out, trying to grind your hips against him for some friction, but Jin’s hands hold you in place.

Jin shuffles closer again, and you feel a hand slip round to your front, pressing on your lower chest to pull you backwards, and you whine, not wanting to separate from Yoongi’s mouth, but he leans forward with you, sucking and lapping at your nipple as you fall back onto Jin’s chest, that same hand holding you steady against him as the other one traces lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

You jump when the tip of his finger first grazes against your clit, eyes opening to look down. Yoongi’s head takes up most of your vision, bobbing obscenely as he lavishes attention on your nipple, taking a moment to wet his fingers so he can flick and rub at your other one. Your chest heaves with his attention, pleasure so sharp it cuts into you. Below that, your legs are spread wide over Yoongi’s lap, your panties bulging with the presence of Jin’s hand. As you watch deliriously, he dips down and slips a finger deep inside you, the angle allowing him to grind the heel of his palm against your clit and stroke your g-spot from inside you at the same time.

You pant, toes curling when Yoongi switches nipples, his mouth enveloping your left peak and leaving the right one glossy with spit and reddened. It’s intoxicating, being between them like this, and you feel your hips begin to jerk against Jin’s hand as an orgasm builds surprisingly fast.

“Are you gonna cum like this?” Jin murmurs, and you nod hastily, choking on your ‘yes’ as Yoongi pulls away slightly, keeping your nipple trapped between his teeth so it’s tugged. “Fuck, she likes that,” Jin comments darkly, and you cry when he yanks at the hair in his hand again, pulling your head to one side so he can descend upon your neck, bites and sucks aggressive enough to make you feel like you’re being devoured.

Being pinned between two relentless sources of pleasure is enough to make your thighs tremble, and your first orgasm is almost silent, given away only by your rushed gasps and the sudden flood of wetness that coats Jin’s hand, the older man cursing as he strokes you harder, letting you ride out the high until you go lax. Post-orgasm, your nipples are too sensitive and you squeak, writhing under Yoongi’s ministrations until Jin pulls the hand from your panties and pushes Yoongi away with it.

Yoongi’s head comes up, and you moan gutturally at the fucked-out look in his eyes. Now that Jin’s hand isn’t in the way, you can again feel Yoongi’s hardness against your clothed core; he must’ve been able to feel Jin’s knuckles rubbing against him with your proximity. Jin’s hand is still hovering in the air between you and, keeping his eyes locked on yours, Yoongi leans in and captures two of Jin’s fingers in his mouth, lips pursed obscenely around the slightly crooked digits as he sucks your arousal off Jin’s hand, the older man groaning behind you as Yoongi thoroughly licks off every finger, swapping his gaze between you and Jin.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you guys are gonna be the death of me.”

Jin chuckles, pressing a final kiss to your neck, which you have no doubt will be covered in vibrant blossoms of colour in a few hours. “Let’s get these panties off, hm? If Yoongi gets any harder, he might run out of blood in his head and pass out on us.”

“Shut up,” the younger man grumbles, but once you get up off his lap he’s flinging his shirt off and pushing down his boxers, no self-consciousness as his flushed cock springs up and smacks against his lower abdomen. Your mouth waters, letting Jin shuck off his own pyjamas before slipping down your panties, a hand lazily swiping over your wet heat.

“Turn around, baby,”‌ Jin commands softly. “Let Yoongi have you first.”

You swallow as you obey, shifting so that you’re facing Jin, back arched to present yourself to Yoongi. He curses lowly, but wastes no time in lining himself up, a palm on your ass to guide you down on his cock, stretching your walls in smooth increments. He gradually thrusts deeper and deeper, slow enough for you to adjust, until you feel him bottom out, less girthy than Jin or Taehyung but more curved inside you, making your mouth hang open.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Yoongi praises. “Fucking finally.”

You giggle at his desperation, but your grin is fucked from your face with a thrust that knocks you forward, face smacking on the mattress, a moan pulled from your lungs as he rolls his hips, grinding deeper.

“Poor baby,” Jin teases. “C’mere.” You whine as Yoongi stills inside of you, giving Jin a chance to lift you up under the arms, wrapping them around his broad shoulders. Upper torso lifted, your hips are now at a different angle and you cry out when Yoongi begins to thrust again, the underside of his cock now dragging against your g-spot with every movement. Jin lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, weakly sucking a hickey into his neck to make him groan, his throat vibrating under your lips.

Soon, though, you don’t even have the energy to do that. As Yoongi picks up speed, you’re rocked violently between two hard bodies, drooling onto Jin’s neck as his hand snakes down to thumb at your clit. You cry out, shuddering as much as you can between them.

Yoongi curses and grips your hips when you clench around him, holding you still so he can increase his pace even more, a low moan rumbling in his throat. “I’m not gonna last long,” he warns. “Can I come inside you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you cry, nails scratching at Jin’s bare shoulders as he swaps his thumb out for three fingers, rubbing them back and forth frantically in an effort to get you to cum. “Yes, fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop!”

This time, when you reach your high, you can’t stop moaning, the sound muffled by Jin’s shoulder as you’re pinned between the two men, Yoongi grunting as he spills, hot inside you.

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm when he pulls out, and your head spins, incoherent as you’re moved around, and before you know it, a thicker cock is being plunged into you, fucking you into oversensitivity.

As your orgasm fades, so does the fog in your mind and you become aware of the fact that the body you’re now propped up against is Yoongi, his hand in your hair and his teeth on your earlobe, tugging lightly and mumbling praises into your ear as Jin takes you from behind, filling the room with the sounds of skin impacting on skin. Unlike Yoongi’s slender, structured dick, Jin’s cock is a blunt instrument, hitting deep enough inside you that you feel him near your cervix.

“Tuh-too much,” you whine as Yoongi’s free hand snakes down, rubbing at your clit in a perfect mirror of your earlier position.

“Jin-hyung wants to feel you cum too, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmurs in your ear, voice dripping with honey, “don’t be selfish now.”

You keen, eyes tearing up at the excess sensation, Jin’s thrusts enough force to push Yoongi slightly too. Your hands curl around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin enough that he winces, but speeds up his fingers nonetheless, making you squeal. “I c-can’t,” you gasp, legs giving out.

Jin groans and you feel his arms snake under your hips, lifting you up and fucking you back onto his cock with every thrust forward. Your weight is held up by the two of them, tears streaming as you’re forcefully brought to your high a third time.

“Do we need to stop?” Yoongi asks lowly, and you feel Jin’s hips slow, Yoongi’s fingers sliding wetly over your lower stomach instead of your clit. The lack of sensation all of a sudden just makes you sob harder, shaking your head.

“Make me cum,” you plead shakily. “Wan- wanna cum for Seokjinnie.”

Behind you, Jin growls, his hands tightening, gripping handfuls of your hips as he starts up again. “Good girl,” he praises gruffly, “cum one more time for us.”

The time they stopped was apparently enough for your body to recover, because as he returns to his prior bruising pace and Yoongi strums roughly at your clit, the sting of overstimulation is gone, replaced by throbbing need. “Close, Yoongi,” you babble, writhing in the boys’ grip.

“That’s it, sweetheart, make a mess all over Jin-hyung’s cock.”

With that, you’re pitched into an orgasm so intense, it’s almost painful. You feel like your nerves are electric, making your limbs convulse. Unable to stop shaking, you clutch at Yoongi as Jin pulls out, giving your tired body reprieve. You whine when Yoongi leans you back, lying you down on the bed softly, and moments later, hot stripes of cum land on your heaving chest, Jin cursing under his breath.

The two of you gasp, unable to suck in enough breath to fill your thirsty lungs, but Yoongi, who came first, is already fully recovered. You shiver, letting out a groan as he leans down with a cat-like grin, lapping at the cum over your breasts.

“You’re fucking filthy,” Jin pants out, but continues to stroke himself slowly, managing to produce a few more drops of cum for Yoongi to lick up.

The blonde-haired boy leaves your nipples for last, grinning around each peak as you whimper, clutching his hair. Finally, once he’s done, he lifts his face up and kisses you once, deeply, so that you can taste yourself and Jin on his tongue.

“Holy fucking shit,” you exclaim breathlessly, “this show is going to kill me.”

Apparently back to his normal self, Jin pats your cheek teasingly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

You roll your head to the side, partly to escape his hand and partly to glance at the clock on his nightstand. Seven in the morning. You swear. “Fine, it may not kill me but it’ll definitely obliterate my sleep schedule.”

Jin considers this. “Fair,” he concedes. “If it helps, I’ll wake you up in a few hours so you can just call it a nap. And then we can all have a shower.”

“I am not waiting a couple hours to have a shower, thank you very much,” Yoongi huffs, pushing himself up to stand. “I have to brush my fucking teeth.”

“Hey!” the two of you cry in unison.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but a grin tugs at his lips nonetheless. “You should just be grateful I cleaned you up.”

Jin stares as Yoongi hastily slips back into his discarded pyjamas. “I’ll be sure to call you over next time I masturbate, then.”

Yoongi shoots him a dirty look. “Thanks for the fuck and the counselling,” he spits before darting out the door, slamming it behind him decisively.

Jin lets out a dramatic exhale, throwing himself on the bed so he’s lying beside you. “Men these days,” he muses sadly. “Lick up your cum once then act like they don’t know you.”

Despite your bone-deep exhaustion, you snicker along with him, feeling lighter than a cloud. “Thank you,” you say after the laughter dies down.

“For the…the sex or the counselling?”

You turn your head, glancing at him sidelong. “Would it be bad if I said just the sex?”

“Hey!”

“For both, Seokjinnie,” you say with a smile. “And for everything else, too.”

“Like what?” he asks suspiciously, chest puffing in anticipation of praise.

You hum happily, wriggling until you feel comfortable and your eyes slip shut. “Thank you for letting me nap in your bed.”

Jin huffs, but after a few moments, you feel him shift, leaning over you so he can flip the bottom edge of the duvet up and cover you. “Sleep well, little one.”

—

True to word, Jin wakes you shortly before midday, and makes sure the coast is clear so you can stumble across the hall to your room. Taehyung has luckily left by then, though a pool of bubbles rest in the tub. You try not to let the pang in your heart get to you, choosing to shower instead.

With Jin having kept you company, it’s Yoongi who’s manning the kitchen, running it like a military camp.

Taking mercy on your exhausted body, Yoongi lets you sit on the couch, watching their antics from the comfort of the soft leather.

“What the fuck are you doing with that grater, Namjoon?”

You grin at the bewildered look on Namjoon’s face as he looks up at his elder, holding a box grater with both hands as a potato wobbles on the bench beneath it. “You said to grate the potato,” the academic defends weakly.

“You- I-” Yoongi splutters, abandoning the pan he’s heating up to go snatch the metal contraption off Namjoon. “You rest it on the table like this, and then grate the potato against it. Please hurry; we need three big ones to go into the batter mix for the pancakes.”

To the left, both Jungkook and Taehyung are on drink duty, hovering over a sleek shiny machine on the countertop like apes discovering fire.

“Woah, hyung, the water comes from there,” Jungkook gasps, poking at a canister behind the machine. “And then you put the pod in and it becomes coffee. Isn’t that magic?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, leaning in so his face is directly in front of the machine, where a steady stream of coffee fills a cup below. “But how did it get the coffee out of the pod? Does the machine open it?”

“Maybe it dissolves,” Jungkook muses, and the two coo at it, staring in wonder as the stream tapers off.

“Let’s do another,” Taehyung cheers excitedly, the two boys jumping in unison when Yoongi calls out.

“You’ve made ten cups,” Yoongi snaps, wrist flicking gracefully as he flips a small potato-and-zucchini pancake in the pan. “There are only eight of us, and you don’t even know who likes to drink coffee.”

“I’ll drink them, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook pouts, eyes wide like a doe.

“You’re one of the ones that doesn’t drink- Nevermind, fine, go ahead.” He turns back to his pan, slipping the pancake out onto a paper towel and pours more batter in.

Amongst the chaos, almost blending into the stainless steel refrigerator with his steel grey sweater, Jimin watches a pot of ramen with a desolate expression.

By the time Jin comes down and Hoseok returns from his stint in the confessional booth, the rest of you are at the table, fingers itching from the urge to dig in. They wash their hands quickly and join you at the table, allowing the food to be doled out onto plates and the conversation to flow again.

Sitting between Jungkook and Jimin, you take a sip of your second cup of coffee, courtesy of the drinks crew. Since most of them had gone cold by the time the coffee-drinkers finished their first cup, Jimin had taken the initiative to add ice and some milk to one, enjoying it as a cafe au lait, and you’d all followed suit, enjoying a refreshing drink with a hot lunch.

“How’s your week been going?” Jimin asks, and you’d be shocked at the small talk were it not for the intense look in his eyes. He’s feeling you out, appraising you just like yesterday with Taehyung.

You sit your drink back on its coaster, leaning back and letting your eyes wander over the other participants. “Eventful,” you say rhetorically, sending a grin over at him as his mouth twitches down, unimpressed. “Sorry, that’s a no-brainer. A lot of them so far have really surprised me.”

“Who?” he questions, and you can’t help but hold back a sigh. He frowns, surprised at your sullen reaction.

“Listen, Jimin,” you say slowly, appreciating the bubbly chatter that keeps your conversation private, “I appreciate your dedication to this, but we don’t always have to talk sex and competition, you know? Can we have a genuine conversation? I really want to get to know you.”

His eyes drop, face falling. It’s the first sign of what’s behind the facade, and you want to see more. When he looks up again, he’s sporting a rueful smile and you marvel at how boyish his face looks, how innocent. “Sorry. Work-mode. I think I’m… I’m starting to realise that I maybe don’t have to be on all the time. At least, not around you guys.” His eye twinkles. “I’m sure I’ll slip up from time to time and go back into it. Feel free to tell me if I’m being an asshole.”

You mock-pout, letting out a whine. “Well, I can’t say it now, because you’re not being an asshole.”

“Save it for a rainy day, then,” he remarks coolly, and you’d think he was back in his persona again were it not for the grin still on his face.

“Looks like we’ll be getting one soon enough,” you muse. “Namjoon says it’s raining all weekend.”

Jimin laughs, and the sound is like the tinkling of wind-chimes, airy and melodic. “I’m sure Namjoon isn’t too happy about that.”

“No, he seemed pretty-” You cut yourself off, staring hard at Jimin. “Why do you say it like that? Is his prompt the pool or something?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Well, you better hurry up, then,” you quip, “because Yoongi just plead the fourth.”

Jimin’s mouth drops open. “Normally I’m the one making clever entendres. I’m impressed.”

“So was he.”

When Jimin laughs this time, it’s loud enough to catch the attention of the table, everyone’s conversation halts, six sets of wide eyes on the intimidating Park Jimin, cheeks plumped and eyes crinkled as he positively giggles, freezing once he notices the attention.

“Goodness,” Jin remarks, “four days in and you’ve already broken him. He’ll be a sub by Week Three.”

Like a switch had been pulled, Jimin straightens his spine, head tilting to the side so he can level a piercing stare at his elder. “If I were you, I wouldn’t assume you’d still be there to see it.”

The table goes quiet in shock, waiting for Jin’s reaction. He simply shrugs and laughs softly, unruffled by the peacock show. “If I get voted off I can easily watch from home, Jimin. Maybe send in a question for the confessional. I bet you’d miss me.”

Like he’s realised Jin isn’t going to attack him, Jimin relaxes, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. “I’m not sure about you, but I’d definitely miss your excellent cooking.”

Jin’s ears go pink with the praise but from the head of the table, Yoongi’s mouth drops open, chopsticks going slack in his grasp. “Hey, you little brat, I’m the one that made this lunch for you all. Aren’t you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, that’s because you won’t go home before Week 3,” Jimin answers without missing the beat, a sugar-sweet smile on his rosy lips.

Yoongi’s mouth moves, but he has nothing to grumble about. Jimin 1, Yoongi 0. “Of course, I won’t,” he huffs quietly, stuffing his face with a chunk of fried pancake.

The conversation trickles back in, then, and Taehyung pulls you and Jimin into a discussion about a stray dog he’d seen wandering around, and as the eight of you sit around the table chatting long after your plates are empty, your chest feels lighter than ever.

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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

The Promise

The Heir Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12K

Warnings: I can't even remember.

Note: Oof its been a while sorry

___

The council meeting was where everything started to go wrong. The members of the Neutral Systems were always dismissive and condescending toward you, but the presence of the Mandalorian made it worse.

"These people are not easy to convince, Din," you warned him before stepping into the meeting. "I don't know what your plan for Mandalore is but you are either about to make great allies or terrible enemies."

"I'll follow your lead," he said.

"You brought him here?" General Tarrow questioned incredulously the moment you appeared.

"Is there a problem with that?" you countered. Din sat silently beside you, helmet on, surveying the situation.

"You were always one to flirt with danger, Your Majesty. But I never expected you to court the enemy," Prince Cornith, representative of the Angor system, said. You hated his smug smile and arrogant posture. And his implication stoked an anger in your chest.

"And yet I'm not surprised at your apparent prejudice towards someone you've never met. The Mandalorian is not an enemy. He's an ally in need of assistance to fight for his people."

"How are you expecting this to play out? A little catfight amongst warrior clans who know nothing but to fight?" the General asked. A wave of laughter spread through the representatives. You did not join in.

"My people have seen Bo-Katan on Mandalore. She's gathering the people around her. Readying for battle. She needs to be stopped before this escalates and it spills over into other systems."

"So what you're saying is to prepare for war?" General Tarrow's questioned, jumping to a fairly major conclusion.

"I'm saying we need to be prepared for the possibility of one good Mandalorian having to face a hundred bad ones."

"Why should we even get involved in this? This guy can't be trusted," Cornith said, pointing an accusing finger at Din. "Take off the ridiculous helmet and then we'll see for real. Maybe he's a deformed monster under it all."

You bristled against the blatant insult but managed to remain collected. The Prince enjoyed getting a rise out of you and you knew no one would stand up for you if you fired back.

"If the wrong person ends up on the throne, and Mandalore returns to its militaristic ways, they will encroach on your territory. They used to control entire systems. Bo-Katan can and will take yours."

"We are prepared to deal with that if it happens."

"When it happens, General, it will be too late. None of us are a match for a well-organized Mandalorian army. We need to get ahead of this."

"Who's to say he's even the one we should be backing? We are the Neutral Systems for a reason. We don't take sides."

"Djarin is a good man. I trust him. Societies don't rebuild themselves overnight. We need to lay the right bricks now to build a foundation that won't just fall apart and take the whole structure with it. Djarin is the one to do that."

"I hate to argue with you, Your Majesty--" This was a lie. The Prince loved to argue. "--but I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your shared history with Mandalore."

"And I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your selfishness, Prince Cornith."

He stood. "I act only with my people's best interests at heart."

"As do I." You stood as well and stared the Prince down. General Tarrow watched the interaction from his seat, just as distrustful as Cornith but less vocal.

"What happens if Bo-Katan does take control and finds out we've been going behind her back to form an alliance?" Cornith said. "The rest of us are done for. Nhora might have the firepower to protect herself, but we don't."

In a way he was right. If this failed, everyone, including Nhora, would take the heat. Din had remained silent the entire time, unsure if he was even allowed to speak. But finally, he did. "You're right. I can't ask you to put your people on the line. All I can ask is that when the time comes you will support my people and their wishes. I just-- I want to protect my family. You can understand that right?"

Cornith eyed Din with distrust and then shook his head. "I'm out. Whatever deal you're going to try to make, I won't get involved."

"Can you at least promise not to align yourself with Bo-Katan?" you pleaded.

He sighed, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I can't take that risk. I'll do what I think is best to protect my people. I'm out."

Cornith's hologram flickered and then disappeared. Two others followed, leaving only you and General Tarrow. And though he still hesitated, Din's words had appeared to make a dent in the tough General's shell. If he wasn't going to listen to you at least he would listen to Din. He sat up and leaned forward, completely ignoring you when he spoke and looking only at the Mandalorian.

"How many soldiers are we talking? How many will it take for this little operation of yours."

"Six," Din said.

"Six?" both you and the General exclaimed at the same time.

"At most."

"And here I thought we were arguing over hundreds. Six we can manage." That was far fewer than either of you were expecting. Din hadn't explained to you what his plan was yet. And if he was being honest, he wasn't quite sure himself. But this was a start.

"You do realize what you are up against, Mando," you questioned. "She'll be expecting you to make a move."

"I once took out an Imp base with fewer than that. Bo-Katan doesn't want a war. She needs to defeat me in battle, fairly, to regain the saber. I just need to get in."

"And then what? Kill or be killed?" The thought made your heart constrict.

"I hope not. But probably."

The room fell quiet at the gravity of his words.

"I'm going with you," Zena said abruptly. She had remained silent throughout the meeting but now spoke with determination.

"Absolutely not," Din said. "No offense but I need trained warriors for this."

You could tell by the look on Zena's face that she'd already made up her mind. "It wasn't a question, Mando," she said. "I'm the best warrior on this planet and I'm going with you."

Din was silent. "Okay," he consented, though sounding a bit taken aback. "That's one. I'll need that Jedi too, Skywalker."

"Good luck finding him," the General said. "I'll discuss this with my Lieutenants. We'll see about filling out your team. But I'm not making any promises, Mando. And you're going to have to deal with the consequences of the Angor system potentially aligning with Bo-Katan. Prince Cornith will follow whoever offers him the best price."

And then the General was gone as well. You sighed, finally able to let down the hardened exterior you had put up for the council meeting. "That did not go as well as I'd hoped."

"I hate that Angor guy," Zena said with a huff.

"Me too. Eyed you like a slab of meat," Din said quietly. It was the harshest language you'd ever heard out of his mouth, almost protective of you. But he moved on quickly. "I was expecting the worst. At least we might have the General. I have a...friend on the inside as well. But I'll need help getting in contact with her."

"I'll take care of that," you said, sinking deeper in your chair, now only thinking that Din's plan might be a suicide mission. Din followed your movements, noticing the stress that radiated from you in waves. You'd taken quite the verbal berating from the council. He wanted to reach out and ease your worry the way he had last night but was too conscious of Zena's watchful eye. So he settled on speaking.

"You can back out," he said. His words caught you off guard. "I can go forward without you. You don't need to put your people on the line like this."

"Too late for that, Mando," Zena said, answering for you. "Once she makes up her mind there's no going back."

---

Zena was right. Your mind was made up. You were suspiciously silent through the rest of the morning's meetings and disappeared directly afterward to your chambers, reappearing again only for lunch. You were planning, turning things over in your mind, wondering how best to move forward. The next logical step seemed to wait on the reappearance of the Jedi and his ward.

Din noticed it all, the concentrated look on your face, your abnormal silence. He wanted to draw you out of your shell, tell you it would be alright, but he didn't know how. So he focused on Zena.

"I didn't know you could fight," he said to her. Zena had offered to give him a tour of the grounds of the palace, and you trailed along behind, eager for a distraction from the stressful morning. The three of you had come upon the sparring grounds, piquing Din's curiosity.

"I come from the longest line of warriors on Nhora," she said. "My mother, her mother, her mother... Not that they passed on anything cool like beskar armor. Is it all beskar?"

"Yes. Though mine wasn't passed on either. I got it through more... dubious means."

"And that? Also beskar?" Zena motioned to the staff on Din's back, topped with a sharp spearhead.

Din unclipped the staff from his back and handed it to her with surprising trust. She took it gingerly, feeling out the balance in her hands. "It's very light. Do you fight with this?"

"Is that a challenge, Zena?"

"Hah, I could take you, Mando. You want to go a round?"

Din didn't need to be asked twice. He was eager to see how your royal advisor fared one on one.

You stood above them on the observation ledge of the sparring grounds, watching as they faced each other below, knowing this would be a good fight.

Zena tapped the staff against the ground. "Where's your weapon, Mando?"

"No weapon. Wouldn't want to give you an unfair disadvantage." Though Zena took those words as a challenge they were not said arrogantly. Din's cool confidence was built on experience and success.

But Din was not prepared for what he would get hit with next. Specifically what Zena hit him with next. Zena struck out with the first blow, slamming the staff in a dangerously accurate hit to the side of his head. The beskar sent vibrations through his helmet and he stumbled back in surprise. Taking advantage of his disorientation Zena dealt a second blow with her foot to his side, and Din gasped, bending over in pain. He'd forgotten about rule one, never underestimate your opponent. And rule number two, no distractions. Having you as an audience was a damn good one.

Zena lunged again, though this time Din was ready, taking hold with his gloved hands of the staff and hauling her forward. But Zena anticipated the attack and counterbalanced, shifting her weight down and using the staff as a lever to launch him onto his back.

Din landed with a groan on the ground. Watching a Mandalorian get his ass kicked by your advisor was a very sufficient diversion.

"Unfair disadvantage, Mando? You seem to be the one at a disadvantage," Zena taunted as Din hauled himself to his feet. "Perhaps you're distracted by a pretty woman on your mind."

"We both know you're trying to impress her too."

Your heart began to flutter. He was trying to impress you.

"Ah yes, but the difference is I've already impressed her. You are behind."

That comment finally got to him. Din struck next, easily knocking the staff from Zena's hands and pinning her arms behind her back to immobilize her upper body. The staff went clattering to the ground. But it wasn't the end for your advisor. She kicked out her legs and took both her and Din to the floor, reaching out and taking hold of the staff to swing at his head. Din rolled out of the way, but not without having to relinquish his hold on Zena. She lept to her feet gracefully and lashed out her leg, planting a solid and swift kick to one of Din's pauldrons, sending him back to the floor.

"You should really work on your hand-to-hand combat, Din Djarin. I expected better from a lifelong warrior."

"I'm good enough to get by," Din said with a huff, finally making his way to his feet again.

"Good enough isn't good enough, Mando. You need to be better. The best."

"Fine, if you want a fair fight, you'll get one." Din pulled something from his belt. It was hard to tell what it was, just an oblong object in his hand. But then he pressed a button and the full length of it emerged, glowing and humming with electricity. The Darksaber.

"So when I defeat you, does that mean I'm the new Mand'alor?"

Zena was taking the appearance of the most powerful handheld weapon in the galaxy in stride.

"If you win, yes. But you're not going to."

The saber met the staff with a crash, sending reverberations across the sparring grounds. You felt a jolt of electricity spread over your skin, vibrating your body down to the core. Din suddenly took on a new appearance, powerful, intense, confident. The shift was small but compelling and you thought perhaps the vibrations spreading through your body were not just from the force of the saber.

Din attacked again, forcing Zena backward in a fight that had taken on a new energy. Zena was skilled and agile. She anticipated Din's every move and blocked his strikes. But she was no match to the Darksaber in Din's hands and found herself forced to step back with each blow until she was up against the wall. The staff narrowly prevented the loss of her head.

"How about now, ready to tap out?"

Zena held up a fist in response, letting him know she knew she was done for.

"I take that back. You are good."

In an instant, the Darksaber was gone again, just a hilt in his hands. "No, the Darksaber is good. You were right. I could use some practice. And I wouldn't mind getting it from the best around."

Zena laughed.

"I train at dawn. See you there, metalhead." With an affectionate rap of her knuckles on his helmet, she handed Din back the staff. "I've got work to do. Perhaps Her Majesty could finish the tour."

She bowed toward you with a dubious smile and exited the sparring grounds, leaving you alone with Din. You walked down the stairs and met him in the center of the ring, the power of the Darksaber leaving your skin vibrating slightly with its intensity.

"So, did it work?" Din asked, his tone level and unreadable.

"Did what work?"

"Did I impress you."

You couldn't suppress the shy smile that danced across your lips. "The Darksaber certainly did."

It wasn't the answer Din had hoped for, but he'd broken your silence, which was enough for him. Without Zena around to watch you, he felt a bit more emboldened to pursue your fleeting smile.

"Give me your hand," he said, voice still serious.

"Why?"

"Just--" He didn't wait. Din grabbed your left hand and placed the Darksaber in it, wrapping your fingers around it with his own. "Point it away from your face. And anything else you value. Then press right here when you're ready."

The Darksaber was in your hand. You stood frozen in shock, unsure of what to make of this gesture. Din was putting his most valuable, and most controversial, possession under your control.

"Go on. I know you want to."

"Are you sure I'm allowed to?"

Din shrugged. "I don't really care. I didn't ask for the thing."

You took a deep breath and then held your arm out from your side, worried you would accidentally slice your own leg off. But Din was right. You wanted to. Another breath and then--

Vroom. The shaft of the saber extended from its hilt with a jolt and you took an involuntary step back. The glow was even brighter up close, and if you listened carefully you could hear the crackle of electricity. You weren't sure why you'd expected it to be heavy, it seemed such a heavy object, carrying the weight of a people and a planet within it. But it wasn't.

Din stepped behind you, you thought to get out of the way of your swing, but then he placed a hand on your hip, showing you how to plant your feet and stabilize you. The left reached out and wrapped around yours.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft and guiding in your ear. Oh Maker, he was so close that you could feel his beskar armor against your back. The hand on your hip was gentle but strong, grounding you not to the floor but to him. You couldn't speak so you nodded in reply.

Din brought your hand up to your opposite shoulder and then guided it into a swift slash across your body, leaving a flash of white light in its wake that seared your eyes. The air sparkled, electrified. A gasp escaped your mouth at the sheer amount of power you held. But only one thought entered your mind.

"Can I cut something in half?"

Din laughed, in awe that this was your only request. "Sure, as long as it isn't me. Remember to balance yourself in your hips. Keep your feet planted. And maybe use two hands this time."

He released you and you stepped across the grounds toward one of the sparring dummies. Din watched, and though you walked gingerly, a bit wary of the saber, you held your head high. You were more powerful than you thought.

"Sorry, bud. This is for a good cause," you addressed the motionless dummy. Plant your feet, balance in the hips, and two hands on the hilt. Check, check, check. Draw back and slash. The Darksaber sliced straight through the sack of hay and sand, spilling its guts across the floor.

You squealed in delight. "Oh Maker, I think I could get used to this."

The beaming smile on your face lit the world on fire. Din found himself staring not at the mess you'd just made but at your expression of pure joy, glowing white from the light of the Darksaber. He wanted to make you feel like that all the time, he realized.

---

"What are the people like on Mandalore?" you asked, guiding Din around the palace library. It was quiet today, especially between the stacks, as everyone seemed to be enjoying the good weather outside.

Din sighed, unsure how to answer the question. "They need help. But they're stubborn and won't ask."

"Sounds familiar," you said and Din laughed in response. You wished you could see his face at times like these when the conversation flowed easily and he let you tease him.

"You know, some people on Mandalore don't even believe you're real."

"They don't?"

"They think you're a figurehead. A distraction from the real people in charge. That you only show up to make appearances at official functions."

It wasn't that surprising for you to hear. You rarely left the palace and never left the planet. But there was another reason you suspected their disbelief.

"I think I know why," you said.

Din's silence urged you to continue.

"Meet me outside the palace. At four. I'll show you."

When Din stood at the grand doors of the entrance to the palace, he thought for a moment you had forgotten about him up. He was looking for the regal version of you, the version where you wore your extravagant robes and were surrounded by guards. That is not the version that appeared.

Instead, you were dressed modestly, having abandoned your synthsilk robes for brown linen pants. A dark green cape was wrapped around your shoulders, the hood hiding your face, but the heat signature on Din's visor was clearly yours. The transformation was astounding.

Din bowed as you approached. "Your Majesty," he addressed you.

"Stop that, you'll give me away. You should use my real name."

Your real name? He hadn't yet been offered the privilege of that knowledge, and it embarrassed him to discover what an intense reaction the thought of it elicited from him. His heart rate picked up erratically and he thanked the Maker for his helmet to hide the blush on his cheeks.

You leaned in, beckoning with a finger for him to come closer, and whispered to him in a soft voice. Your name. Your real name. It was a beautiful secret, a name all for himself to possess and wrap around his tongue. It suited you, Din thought.

He repeated it back to you, testing out its weight. You liked the way the syllables rolled around his mouth, even through the modulation of his helmet.

"Come on, we'll start at the market first. I have forty hard-earned credits to spend."

Din trailed behind you through the late afternoon crowds, weaving this way and that over bridges and around stalls. There was no way Din would have been able to find his way around, but you knew the place like the back of your hand, following the paved stone paths, recognizing your favorite shopkeepers, and pointing out the best spots.

Once fully immersed in the throng and away from any guards who may have recognized you, you let your hood fall from your head, tilting your face toward the sun and smiling contentedly. Though your face was no different than it always was, you had changed somehow. No one recognized you or even gave you a second glance, other than perhaps to admire the beauty of the sunlight reflecting from your untamed hair. At least, that's what Din was staring at.

And finally he understood, that beneath it all you weren't just a queen, you were any other person who could blend in with the crowd. He was jealous. He wanted to disappear like that.

"Keep up, Mando," you said, and reached out behind you to grab his hand. You did it to prevent him from getting swept up and lost to the swarms of people, but his heart fluttered at the intimacy and ease of the interaction as you pulled him closer.

"Why are there so many people?" he mumbled into your ear as you paused at one of the stalls to take a look.

"Tomorrow's the fertility festival. After the last day of planting the year's crops, everyone celebrates and prays for good yields. The city will be even more packed tomorrow, so the market prepares for the influx of people." You moved on, dragging Din along behind you. "But today is really the day to come. Fewer people and a better selection."

Selection of what? Din almost asked until you pulled him to a stop. Somehow, you were back at that stall Din had noticed during his first trip here, the one with the delicious smelling food that he'd been in too much of a hurry, and too poor, to buy. Din lingered behind you, eyeing the small pastries and steaming bowls of...something. He wasn't exactly sure what. But it still smelled just as amazing as he remembered, even through the filtered sterile air of his helmet.

"I'll take three of those," you said, pointing at the largest pastries on the top row of the display. The woman running the stall silently slid them into a paper bag, completely oblivious to your identity. You loved the liberating feeling of not having anyone call you by your title or even recognize who you truly were.

"And for the Mandalorian?" the woman asked, glancing slightly nervously at Din's hulking shape hovering just behind you.

You turned toward him. "Are you super hungry or just really hungry?" you asked with a grin.

"Oh, no thank you. I can't afford that."

You pulled a stack of credits from your pocket and handed them over, completely ignoring his comment. "We'll take two more fruit pastries and two of the vegetable ones, thank you."

And then you were off again before he could protest, guiding him further away from the palace and into the market. From the top of a bridge, you flagged down one of the canal taxis, stepping down the bank as it slowed to a stop.

"Now where are we going?"

You didn't respond, just pointed at the flat-bottomed boat, indicating for Din to get in. He did as he was told, jumping in easily, and you moved to follow, sitting on the edge of the stone wall to reduce how far you'd have to jump. But Din stopped you with his hands on your hips, lifting you easily with his arms into the boat so that you wouldn't have to jump.

"Where to?" the helmsman said.

You pointed along the canal in the direction opposite of the city. "Just follow on up that way."

"Lady, you're going to hit marsh. I can't go that far without my boat bottoming out."

"Just go until you can't anymore."

The taxi maneuvered up the canal, at first following the stone walls that lined the waters edge. Soon, however, they turned to grass as you left the boundary of the city, the market fading slowly behind you. The man was right. The canal quickly became more of a creek, marsh grasses and reeds growing up around you.

"This is as far as I can take you. Not sure why you'd want to be here, but I'm not coming back so good luck."

How kind. Din helped you out of the boat, a bit wary of your strange plan. There couldn't have been anything out here. But you were scrambling onto the grassy embankment, paper bag of food in tow, and he followed diligently behind.

"I'm starting to think you're a bit crazy," Din teased. He'd roughed it before, and this was by no means roughing it, but he hadn't expected this from you.

"I know what I'm doing, Din. Just follow me."

The ground leveled out, marshes to one side of the creek, a smattering of trees on the other. The two of you walked along the shrinking stream of water, a soft blanket of grass beneath your feet, until you found what you were apparently looking for.

"When I was a kid, I would hide out here. No one could find me."

Din wasn't surprised. The small clearing was absolutely secluded from the rest of the world, the city skyline was gone, the sounds of the market reduced to nothing. Around him, the chirping and croaking of wildlife was the only noise besides the rushing water of the shallow stream. The air was warm today, warmer than it had been in a while, and though the evening was waning, you pulled off your cape and tossed it to the ground.

Without a second thought, you plopped down on the ground next to the stream, back against a tree, and off came your shoes so you could dig your toes into the sandy bank. You opened the paper bag, fishing around for the first pastry. When Din didn't join you, you patted the ground next to you, inviting him to sit.

"You're sure we're safe?"

"Of course we're safe, Din. I know my way around my own planet."

Finally he sat, looking slightly out of place in all his beskar. But he removed his helmet when you handed him one of the vegetable pies, helping him to look a little more relaxed in these unfamiliar surroundings. He leaned back against the thick tree, looking around to better gauge his environment. You, and the planet you called home, never ceased to surprise him.

"Have you ever left?"

"Where? Nhora?"

"Yeah."

You looked up toward the sky where the sun was starting to set, casting an orange and pink glow through the clouds. But you weren't looking for the sunset. You were looking for the moons, already rising.

"There. See the smallest moon, up and to the left?" Din nodded in the direction you pointed. "It's actually the biggest, only it looks small because it's so far away. That's where I was born. But no, otherwise I haven't."

Din nodded solemly and took a bite of the pie. You weren't sure why he'd posed the question and he didn't seem inclined to explain. You watched as he chewed slowly, crumbs from the crust spilling onto his armor. And then his eyes went wide with enjoyment. The soft buttery pastry melted in his mouth, sweetness contrasting with the salty filling.

"Wow, this is delicious."

You smiled in satisfaction. That reaction was all you'd wanted all day, to see him blown away by the things you called home. He finished the first pastry in silence and then held out a hand, asking you wordlessly for another.

"I once visited a planet with no atmosphere," he said abruptly. It was surprising to hear him speak like this, freely, with no prompting. You held your tongue because it was the only way to encourage him to go on. "Then there was the planet where I couldn't stop moving unless I wanted to be someone's lunch."

He paused, thinking. "I know four languages. Aside from basic."

That one was impressive. You realized this was him opening up. Sharing. It made your heart tingle with warmth. Then Din fell into silence, indicating it was your turn.

"I can fly an x-wing," you said after a moment of thinking. "Not very well. But in a pinch. And I've never punched anyone, though I really want to punch that Angor prince sometimes."

"You can try it out on me."

"I think I'd rather not break my hand on your armor," you said with a laugh. What else? "I'm twenty-six years old."

Din took a deep breath. "I don't know how old I am. Maybe thirty-nine. Or forty."

"You look older than that."

Din glanced at you to gauge if you were joking. You were, in fact, joking, a big smile filling the round apples of your cheeks, mouth full of flaky pastry. "Alright, very funny. Your turn."

"I--" Where did you want to take this conversation? Din's presence next to you made you feel comfortable and warm and something about that inclined you to dig deeper, let him in a little more. "I don't know who my father was. Or is, I guess."

Din let out a quiet breath beside you. You were both watching the sunset, not one another, but you didn't have to see his face to feel comforted by his presence. "My parents are definitely dead if that makes you feel any better. No doubt about that."

The admission was a difficult one for him, and he was glad you didn't press any further. But then suddenly your hand was on his leg, gripping his knee tightly and telling him to be quiet.

"What's wrong?"

"Shh!" For a moment Din thought you were in imminent danger, but then he saw no alarm on your face, only excitement. "Don't move," you whispered.

The final light of the sun had dimmed, leaving you surrounded by a deep blue twilight. And yet, you still managed to spot the creature, sitting on a rock across the stream from you. You stood as quietly as possible, moving slowly so as not to scare it away. Without bothering to roll up the legs of your pants you stepped barefooted into the shallow stream, the cool water rushing around your ankles, not yet warmed by the sun of the warming season. But a little cold water wasn't going to stop you from catching the small creature.

Din watched as you bent over slowly and then snatched as quick as lightning, grabbing at something sitting on a rock. When you stood, triumph on your face, he nearly laughed. "What is that?"

"It's a glow frog, remember?"

Of course, he remembered. The animal you'd compared Grogu to. You were grasping the frog firmly but gently, holding it up for Din to see. It was a comical sight, a woman normally so regal and queen-like, shin-deep in marsh water, wild animal in her hands.

"So is the glow part just for kicks or..." The frog was not living up to its name. No glowing in sight.

"Just wait. It takes a second." The sun had fully dipped below the horizon now, the light from the three moons overhead the strongest source in the night sky. But then it happened. The small creature in your hands began to illuminate, green and fluorescent. It started slow, almost imperceptibly, until it shown bright, casting its glow across your face.

And you were right. The resemblance was uncanny. The frog opened its wide mouth, eyes large, and it croaked, surprising you enough into dropping it back into the water. You giggled, and suddenly Din spotted the youthful shine reappearing on your face the way it had the other night in the kitchen.

"They respond to pressure, releasing a chemical when you surprise them. I used to catch them all the time out here. The only downside is this," you said, holding up your hands which now fluoresced as well.

"That doesn't seem healthy."

"Oh, its fine. Look, it just washes off." You rinsed your hands in the water, the green fluorescence washing downstream, most of it coming off, though not all. When you pushed the hair out of your face with a wet hand, you left green glowing streaks behind on your cheeks. You glittered in the moonlight.

Din had never seen you so happy. What happened to you?

"What did you say?"

Oh Maker, he'd said that out loud. He hadn't meant to. And he could tell by the fallen look on your face that you had definitely heard him, only wanted him to repeat it to be sure. Din regretted the words immediately, watching as the joy faded from your face.

"Nothing. Forget it." But it was too late.

You waded back across the stream, a sudden chill running through your body as the night air cooled. You sat heavily, pondering the implications of actually opening up to the man next to you. You'd spent so long trying to bottle up how you felt, pretending it didn't exist, pretending you weren't attracted to him, that the tender gesture of Din replacing your cape around your shoulders forced it all out in one go.

Once you started speaking, you couldn't stop. And he listened.

"I was seven when the Clone Wars finally came to an end. It was a...brutal, destructive end. After my grandmother died, my grandfather came back to visit sometimes. He promised to protect us, even though it went against our customs. Something about Mandalorian creed. I'm sure you understand," you said, gesturing vaguely in Din's direction. "But Nhora seemed safe from the war. I was still living on Lunar Post 3 with the rest of the kids from noble families. It was easier like that, educating us all together in one place."

You took a breath, coming to the hard part.

"I had an older sister, Tia. She was so...perfect. I looked up to her. She was going to be queen and even though she was eleven years older than me she treated me like the only star in the sky." Tears pricked behind your eyes but you kept going, kept yourself steady by gazing up at the sky. "She and my mother came to visit for my birthday. It was the last trip she would make before her coronation. But everything went wrong. I don't remember it well, but when the explosions hit there was no one there to protect us, not the guards, and especially not my grandfather. The first one killed my mother. Tia died in the second, shielding me.

"The blasts were meant for me and the other noble children, the second borns, the replaceables, the one's who could be eliminated and then played like a bargaining chip to force my mother's hand to help the Independent Systems. I didn't understand. I'll never understand. I was too young. But instead they took out the royal line and left only me. And so began eleven years of non-stop training for a position I was not born to have. I wanted to escape so badly, to any planet as long as it wasn't this one, just to mourn them even. But this was all I had," you said, gesturing to your surroundings.

Din was silent, unsure what to say, but you were grateful for that. You preferred silence anyway.

"The scars have healed with time. Maybe one day they'll be gone."

"Emotional scars never heal," Din finally said. He was watching you, one knee propped up to support his elbow as he leaned against the trunk of the tree.

"Well, that's true, but I don't mean emotional scars. I mean physical ones."

"But you're so... well, you're so whole, so undamaged." He was thinking about your soft hands and how smooth they'd been on his face.

"That's not true. I have scars."

Din narrowed his eyes, prompting you to continue.

You shrugged your cape off again and started to unbutton to top buttons of your shirt. You had nothing to prove to this man, didn't need to do anything to earn his respect. And yet you wanted to show him the most vulnerable parts of you.

"You don't have to--"

You yanked the collar of your shirt down, effectively shutting him up, and putting the scar that sliced along your clavicle on full display. "Here's where the first blast hit."

Then you turned away, kneeling with your back to Din, and fully unbuttoned your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders and gather at your waist to show him the second scar, another long slice that curved around your right shoulder blade. Both scars were old, softened and faded over the years from having grown much bigger than when they were inflicted. They no longer hurt to touch, though the searing pain of the memories was still there.

"How..." Din couldn't finish his sentence. He was too preoccupied with the sight of your bare back, smooth except for the line that hinted at the intense trauma from your past. And the scars were beautiful; you were beautiful. He realized with a shudder that you were now naked from the waist up, giving the marsh a show he'd been thinking of catching a glimpse of for a while now.

You heard Din move, heard him shift and lean forward, felt his warm presence behind you. You wondered momentarily if he would touch you and found you liked that thought.

You didn't feel him reaching out until a single finger touched your back gently, gliding along the path of your scar and sending a shiver down your spine. The goosebumps that followed his touch did not go unnoticed by either of you. You looked back over your shoulder, watching Din from the corner of your eye as several waves of emotions washed over him, pity, sadness, horror, fascination, admiration. But he couldn't seem to pull his hand away, ungloved, from the skin on skin contact.

"Do you miss your family?" His question was asked in barely a whisper.

"I don't really remember them anymore." It was difficult to admit that you had mostly forgotten what your mother and sister looked like.

"You can miss something you don't remember having." Din was right, of course, though he'd said it absentmindedly, thinking of his own family. His fingers were still tracing along the skin of your back, up your vertebrae, across your ribs. Something else had taken control of his hand, like he didn't know what he was doing anymore, unaware of his movements.

You could have stopped him. Brought him back from wherever his mind was floating up in space. But you didn't. You leaned into his touch, consenting to the reassurance of his presence. You let Din wrap his arm around your waist, place his warm hand against your bare tummy, and pull you in.

He didn't know what compelled him to hold you like this. He'd never wanted to touch anyone this way before. But you leaned into him, your body melting against his, a contented hum spreading through you and into the big hands that held you, and it felt like a piece of him he hadn't even known was missing had been returned to its rightful place.

It was oddly serene, this position of being encompassed by someone so much bigger than you. But he was hot against your naked skin, insulating you from the night air. He pressed his face against your neck, breathing you in, lips barely grazing your skin, and you thought you could sit like this forever, protected, safe, warm.

He didn't try to grope you, didn't try to get a peek at whatever you might look like from the front. It was intensely comforting, knowing that he respected you, knowing he wouldn't take advantage of you the way so many other men tried to do. He only wanted to inhale your scent and never let go of this feeling he had no name for. It was a feeling he'd only ever felt once before, while holding the kid for the last time, knowing he had to say goodbye. Neither of you wanted to move.

The sounds of the world melted away and it was only you and Din and his breath against your skin. You had no idea how long you stayed that way.

"We should go," you whispered. "Before someone realizes I'm gone."

Though reluctantly, Din pulled away, that all-encompassing warmth gone, and he helped you dress. He'd barely even seen you, barely even touched you, and he was craving more. He wanted to be linked to you forever, to hold your hand the way you had in the market, to kiss you. He'd never done any of it before and yet he knew without a doubt you were the person he wanted to be with. He just needed to know you felt the same.

"You don't have to do alone," he said, hoping you would understand what he was offering.

"Excuse me?" You turned back to look at him but the helmet was already on and you couldn't tell what he was implying underneath it.

"Rule. You don't have to rule alone. I know you can. I've seen you do it. But you don't have to."

You stood, suddenly feeling exposed though fully dressed again, like the Mandalorian had just read your mind and discovered every feeling that swirled around in there.

"Don't you dare tell me what I do or don't have to do, Djarin," you said sharply. But your voice cracked with suppressed tears."There are traditions to follow, customs I have to abide by. This is my place."

The words were harsh, more defensive than they should have been and you regretted saying them the moment they left your mouth. But Din had recognized in you what you truly wanted, to not be alone anymore, to have a family again, and it scared you.

"Are you afraid of heights?" he asked unexpectedly, standing as well.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your words still laced with annoyance and defiance. You were still feeling defensive, but now you were equally as confused.

He repeated the question and you shook your head slowly. What was he planning?

"Good, I'm tired of walking," was all he said before he wrapped his arms around your waist, powered up his jetpack, and shot straight up into the air. Somehow, you managed not to vomit at the sudden change in altitude. But Maker, you were flying, and incredibly fast.

One moment you were frozen in shock and the next you were screaming, your voice lost to the wind that pummeled your face. You hid your face in the crook of Din's next, holding on tight. No, you weren't afraid of heights, but that wasn't the problem here. The problem was you felt like you were going to fall at any moment, no matter how tightly Din held you.

But it was a short flight. You landed less than gracefully at the front doors of the palace, stumbling like you'd just stepped off a boat. Din caught your elbow and righted you.

"Dank farrick, Din! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. You were spiraling. I had to do something."

You realized he was right. The shock of adrenaline coursing through your body had completely distracted you from the emotions you had been overwhelmed with only a couple of minutes ago. But now they started to flood back, the loneliness, the fear. Why did you feel these things, but only now, with Din right next to you? Did he remind you of how hard it was to be alone, show you what you were missing? You had to get away, to be with your jumbled thoughts for a moment and collect yourself. You couldn't breathe.

"Thank you for... spending the evening with me. I--" You couldn't look him in the face, even though it was hidden behind the helmet. You didn't finish your sentence, just walked away, leaving the Mandalorian standing in the entrance to your quiet palace.

"You can't run forever." You were already halfway up the stairs when Din called out. You didn't stop, didn't turn around, just ran like the coward you were from the feelings you couldn't hide from him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were an idiot that couldn't tell the one good man on this maker-forsaken planet how you really felt.

In your bedroom you stripped, changing quickly into your pajamas and then curling up in bed under the covers. Maybe if you pressed your face into the pillow hard enough you could scream in frustration and no one would hear.

Din had watched as you walked, no, ran, away from him. He should have stopped you, should have told you how he felt. How did he feel, though? What words would he have to say to you, other than what he'd already said? And then what, just to have you throw his feelings right back in his face.

He didn't move until you'd disappeared from sight, only then making his way to his room. It wasn't often that Din got the opportunity to sleep without his armor on. He usually didn't feel safe enough. But here, in this palace, he pulled each piece off one by one and stacked it on the floor. Here, he could sleep in comfort, in peace, without anything to bother him--

Except that he knew he couldn't. Not when he felt there was something left unsaid. He hoped you wouldn't be asleep yet, hoped that when he saw your face he would know exactly what he wanted to say.

You didn't get the chance to scream into your pillow. Someone knocked softly at your bedroom door, disturbing your stress relief hours. You swore to the Maker, if it was Zena or one of your guards here to berate you for sneaking out again, you would actually scream, and not into a pillow but in their face.

But it wasn't Zena or a guard or anyone else. It was Din on the other side and you were wearing those damn transparent pajamas again like you knew what they did to him. But he had to focus. He had things he wanted to say. He'd caught a glimpse of the real you deep inside and he wanted it back, all for himself.

"I meant what I said." Din never raised his voice, but now he was becoming insistent. "You put so much into caring for others. But have you ever thought about accepting some help every once in a while?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heart rate. Why did seeing his face like this make you so nervous? It excited you to find the Mandalorian standing patiently outside your bedroom, especially at this time of night.

"I don't need help," was all you managed to sputter out. Apparently, Din had made a stop in his room to shed his armor, the first time you'd seen him without it. You'd expected him to look smaller under it all but he still managed to fill your doorway and block your escape.

"Maker be damned, I'm trying to tell you that I want to take care of you. I'm not offering because I think you need me, I'm offering because you're allowed to need me." Din took a step forward, closing the gap between you even more. Written on his face was an urgency you'd only seen a few times before.

"I--" You didn't know what to say. I don't know how? "I can't think when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Din's voice was low with earnest gravity.

"Like you care."

"I do care. I care a lot, but for some reason, you won't accept it." His hands found your face, holding your chin to force you to look into his eyes. "Somehow you think this is disingenuous. And I know you don't trust many people but let me be one of them."

Care. Trust. His words rattled around your brain and sent you spinning. He was so close, so warm. The world was hazy with that tingling feeling, the one that pulled you to him, made you reach out a hand to touch the dark fabric of his undershirt. You had no idea what you were doing, no control over the movement of your fingers as they took hold and dragged him closer.

"Stop running," he whispered softly, letting you pull your bodies together.

He cared. Oh Maker, he wanted you to lean on him, to give him some of the burden you carried. So you did, letting your hands find his shoulders and rest there.

"Do you trust me?" you asked in a hushed tone.

"Of course--"

"Then kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, closing the last of the distance between you and kissing you with the same urgency that was written on his face.

You were it, the first and last. Your lips were like a siren's song, dragging Din to the depths of a passion he'd suppressed for so long, calling for him to relent to their addictiveness. He would drown in this taste until he succumbed.

Din kissed you tenderly, carefully, as if he was afraid you would disappear the moment he let go. No man had ever kissed you this way. They had all been greedy, triumphant, dominating kisses, as if you were a prize to be won, a conquest to be conquered. But Din, Din kissed like he had everything to lose and nothing to gain in return. He only pulled away when you did, breathless and panting for air, foreheads pressed together.

Your hands were still grabbing his shirt greedily as you dragged him into your bedroom. Din was so lost in capturing your lips with his again he barely noticed being pushed onto the bed until he was flat on his back with your body stacked on top of his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your hips flush with his, your knees straddling his waist in return, and your elbows leaning on either side of his head.

No matter how tightly he held you it wasn't enough. He needed to fit that missing piece back into the hole in his heart. But your lips were a start. It was impossible to tell where yours ended and his began and that's how he liked it.

Was this what he was missing out on his whole life? When you prodded your tongue against his lips, he let you sink deep into his mouth, moaning in response and sending vibrations through his chest and into yours. He ran his hands up and down your sides, memorizing every curve and contour, wishing the clothing that separated you two would disappear but not knowing how to make it happen.

You broke away to run your fingers through Din's hair, his really fucking soft hair, and place a kiss on the nose that was simply begging to be kissed. You'd wanted to do that for a while.

"How do you taste so good? Like heaven on my tongue," he mumbled. His words sent shivers down your spine and you pulled away to look at his face. Din's eyes were closed, heavy with bliss and experiencing the greatest pleasure of his life. Your body tingled with excitement.

"Have you never been kissed properly?" you asked teasingly. It was meant as a joke.

"Never been kissed," was his short reply, eyes still closed, a dumbstruck look on his face.

You stopped in your tracks, abruptly pulling away further and sitting up.

"What?" you asked, a bit louder than you'd intended.

Din's eyes flew open. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd thought it was obvious, considering how awkwardly unaware he was of what he was doing. "I've worn a helmet for three decades. Doesn't really aid in building romantic relationships."

Suddenly you felt like apologizing, afraid you'd forced him into something he didn't want. "Oh Maker, I'm sorry, if I'd known I would have--"

"Woah, slow down, Angel." You were speaking too fast, tumbling over your words a mile a minute. Din sat up as well, holding onto your hips to keep you straddling him, grounding you and letting you know it was okay. "Don't apologize. I want you. I need you."

Fuck, he needed you. The sincerity in his eyes and his tender use of a nickname eased your worry. But you were still unsure. What if this was some part of his Mandalorian creed, and you were breaking it? Din seemed to recognize the concern on your face, the way he always did.

"Look at me." You did. "I want this. I promise. I've dreamt about kissing you since the moment I met you. Fuck, you have no idea. I dream about holding you and touching you and making you feel good. I just--I don't know how. Tell me how."

This was...new. Uncharted territory. Men usually knew what they were doing. Or at least thought they did. Generally, they were arrogant enough to believe they were pleasuring you, even when they weren't. Never had anyone asked what you wanted. The fact that this man, the greatest warrior in the galaxy, was absolutely clueless but asking for your help, turned you on even more.

If he thought that kiss was good, you were about to blow his mind.

Din had seen naked women before. Once, he'd chased a bounty into a strip club and shackled the man as he was paying for a lap dance. But nothing could compare to you. The urgency that had dominated your kiss was gone, replaced by a deliberate craving. You guided his hands to the buttons of your shirt, urging him to take it off himself. He did, fingers grazing your skin as he slipped the item from your shoulders, leaving your heaving breasts bare before him. You were breathing rapidly and Din burned, knowing that he was the reason why.

"Tell me if you want to stop."

Din nodded, eyes roving all over you, from your face to your chest to the soft plane of your stomach. Between your breasts hung the round pendant of your necklace and he watched as it swung gently back and forth. You could tell he wanted to touch you but was unsure if he should, or how he should. So you took his hand, holding his fingers gently to place them on the soft skin of your neck.

"Follow your fingers with your lips."

At first, he was confused, but then you began to move his hand, dragging his fingers down your neck, along your collarbone, over the tender flesh of your breasts, across your hardening nipple, and down toward the hem of your pants. Din did as he was told, placing soft, open mouth kisses everywhere his fingers went. He placed his free hand on your back, stabilizing you as you leaned back to give him better access. He lingered on the soft mounds of your areolas, taking each into his mouth and sucking gently. He did it instinctually, not knowing what reaction he would receive from you, but taking immense pleasure in the moans he elicited from your mouth.

Mouth still tasting every inch of your bare skin, Din gripped your hips and flipped you around so that you were laying on the bed. He wasn't sure if it was what he was supposed to do, but it seemed like the right move. He continued to kiss you everywhere he could, meditating in the sweet floral scent that an evening spent in nature had left upon you. You nodded when he looked into your eyes, silently asking to remove your pants for you.

Maker, you were gorgeous. He took a ragged breath at the sight of you, slick with desire, all for him. You whispered his name, pulling his intense gaze away from your folds and back to your eyes.

"Watch," you said. And then you began to touch yourself, a lazy finger gathering your wetness and dragging along your slit. You let your legs fall open to give Din a better view as you pleasured yourself. With your middle finger, you found your clit and circled, easing into the satisfying feeling that you knew would build toward an orgasm. You added another finger, dipping slowly into your cunt and savoring the warmth you found there.

Din could tell you'd done this many times before, knew exactly how best to touch yourself. But now someone was watching you, intently, exploring your edges and lines with his gaze, cataloging every hitch in your breath and twitch of your stomach. He studied your patterns and movements like he did his bounties, learning what you liked, anticipating your reactions.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, the wicked voyeuristic sensation lighting something new in your core. What had once been your own dirty little secret you were now performing for an audience, an extremely attentive audience, and it was hot as fuck.

Din watched as your head flopped back in pleasure, a breathy moan escaping your throat, as your free hand came to your breast to pinch and twist the hard bud. Just seeing you this way, writhing beneath your own touch, was making his cock grow hard, but he wanted desperately to be the one to make you feel that way, edging you toward orgasm.

You noticed his need and grabbed his hand to replace it with your own, though not before bringing your fingers to Din's lips for a taste. He wrapped his mouth around your wetness with no reluctance, eyes sinking shut with heady desire and licking them clean.

Like heaven. He wanted you so badly, to know what every inch of you tasted like. He would have to be patient.

Everything about this was irritatingly slow, but it brought your craving for him to a new level. The urgency that had built as you worked toward your first orgasm had subsided to a dull ache without your consistent fingers, begging to be attended to. You knew you could finish yourself off, quickly and easily. But you wanted him to be the one to do. You wanted to know what it was like to unravel beneath the Mandalorian.

Din truly had no idea what he was doing and he couldn't sustain what you'd started. But he was curious, unafraid, and the acute learner in him caught on quickly. You gasped as a thick finger entered you, experimental and slow, and you grabbed onto his shoulders for both his support and your own. He added another finger, testing the velvet softness of your cunt and the ridges of your walls, filling you and stretching you in a way you couldn't do for yourself. He could get the angle right, you knew, better than your own fingers could, but it wasn't enough. You would have to show him.

You peeled open your eyes, unaware that they had even been shut in the first place, to watch him. He was taking you in with his eyes, leaving no part of you untouched by his gaze.

"Din, look at me." His eyes snapped to yours. "Like this."

You showed him how to curl his fingers, how to press his thumb to your clit at the same time. And when he did, Oh Maker, it was the sensation you'd always craved but could never perform for yourself. He filled you so well and only his fingers were touching you. A stifled cry left your lips and you gripped his shoulder harder, trying to ground yourself despite feeling like you were being lifted off into space. He leaned down, fingers still moving magically inside you, and took a nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently and soothing the searing sensation with a soft kiss before doing it all over again.

"Does this feel good, Your Majesty?" he asked against the skin of your chest, voice husky with arousal. It was utterly sinful, using your title while he was finger fucking you into oblivion.

You could barely do more than moan in response. He was catching on quickly, noticing how your hips jerked in response to the pressure on your clit and your walls clenched around his fingers when he simply curled them up and forward. You were falling apart slowly but surely, your breathing erratic, some very unqueenly curses falling from your perfect lips.

This was torture, this build-up, slow, consistent, inching. You could feel it coming, feel the heat pooling between your thighs and your pelvic floor spasming. But it was so fucking slow, like marching straight toward a cliff and not knowing when the edge would come, when the ground would fall out beneath your feet. And you loved every moment of it.

Din's face had fallen to your neck, his lips pressing heated kisses everywhere he could put them. He could feel your erratic pulse beneath his lips, the vibrations of your moans spreading through him. "Does this feel good? I need you to tell me. Tell me."

"Fuck, yes Din, don't stop. Don't-- don't do anything different. It's perfe--"

The words got stuck in your throat as you moaned into your approaching orgasm. You would cum any moment if--

And then, the edge of the cliff gave out and there was nothing beneath you but your crashing orgasm and Din's steady hand, guiding you through your pleasure. Oh Maker, the progress had been so measured and gradual you hadn't even known it was coming, but now you were falling and falling, only to be caught by Din's unyielding touch.

Din's face was buried in your neck as you came, your delicious cries breathed directly into his ear. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, the sound of you fracturing into a million pieces by his hand. He cursed under his breath and you felt his words against your skin as you came down from your high, twitching and spasming.

"Are you okay, Angel?" he asked sweetly. He brushed the hair from your face to gaze deeply into your eyes, bewildered by what he'd just done to you.

"I'm more than okay," you replied with a giggle. You couldn't help the sound that bubbled up in your throat. "Come here."

You pulled at Din's shirt to drag him into a kiss and realized he was still fully clothed, the bastard. You wanted the shirt off with the rest of his clothes. You wanted nothing between you and him.

"Off. All of this off," you said, motioning to his clothes. Din complied and stood, tossing everything to the floor. You sat up onto your knees on the mattress so that you were at his eye level when he approached the edge of the bed once more. Reaching out to pull him in by his hips, you caught a glimpse of the amazing specimen before you. Broad and thick was the best way to describe him, both his shoulders and his cock. He had smooth, soft skin with hardened muscles beneath, no doubt from the taxing nature of his job, slightly tanned and beautifully scarred.

And he was hard for you. It sent a thrill up your spine to grasp gently at his thick length as he pulled you closer, lips against yours. He gasped into your mouth as he aligned his body with yours, bucking his hips involuntarily into your hand while you stroked him slowly. You took the opportunity to nibble his bottom lip, relishing in how fucking good it felt to press your skin to his. He was intoxicatingly warm, his big warm hands on your back, his big warm cock against your stomach.

"Can I ride you?" you asked against his mouth. Din groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

"I have no idea what that means but yes, please."

"Lay down." Oh Maker, it felt a little too good to tell this force of a man what to do and have him listen. But that was a feeling to be explored at another time. Now there was only fucking him into the next galaxy. You wanted to hear your name, your real name, from his lips.

You climbed across Din's lap, straddling him but not sinking onto him yet, instead letting his cock rest between your folds and tease your entrance gently. You were in no hurry, the high of your first orgasm still leaving you overly sensitive to touch, but you could tell Din was eager for release. He gripped your hips tightly as you leaned down, letting him take each of your breasts in his mouth, one by one.

When you began to grind your hips slowly against his, it took all his effort not to let the dam break right then and there. He'd gotten himself off plenty of times, even going so far as to hold back as long as he could to prolong the pleasure. But your folds were slick and warm against his twitching cock and he wasn't sure he could take the torture much longer. He needed to be inside you and he wasn't above begging.

"Are you going to take me or just fucking tease me all night?" Din huffed.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips, wanting to taste his exclamations on your tongue when you finally sank your pussy around his length. And he did not disappoint. He was just as loud as you'd hoped he'd be, after finally lining your entrance with his length and easing down onto him. What you didn't expect was how good it would feel to have him inside you, your own moans mingling with his at the sensation. He filled you completely, stretching you further than his fingers had. It was slightly painful, but only in the sense that pleasure is often conflated with pain. You took him fully, feeling the head of his shaft press against the sensitive flesh of your cervix deep inside you.

Rolling your hips experimentally, Din jerked below you, trying to speed up your movements, but you wouldn't relent. With a hand on his face, thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks, you maintained eye contact, the other hand against his chest for stability.

"Let me take care of you, Mando," you whispered with a hazy smile. He wanted so desperately to flip you over and fuck you however he pleased, but he held back, the sight of you beautiful and bare atop him mesmerizing and enthralling. The flush of your skin and the gentle bounce of your tits as you moved hypnotized him into obeying your request. He would do whatever his queen asked of him, he knew, without question.

You slowly picked up the pace, maintaining the rocking motion that dragged his cock along your g-spot and drove Din mad. He groaned and grunted beneath you, his sounds mixing with yours in the otherwise quiet bedroom. You leaned back, placing your hands flat against his thighs, and kept going, loving the way he let loose without inhibition or reserve. His hands gripped tightly at your hips, crashing you back down every time you rocked up, and you felt your second orgasm building in your core. It was now a question of who would come first. You suspected it would be Din.

It was his turn to fall apart, to lose control. You wanted him to relinquish his dignity the way you had to him. Finally, those precious words left his lips, at first a whisper and building louder, your name groaned over and over and over again. Your walls clenched at the sound and he choked beneath you at the sensation.

"Fuck, Angel, I'm gonna cum if you keep that up." You leaned forward again and noticed his eyes were screwed tight like he was holding back as best he could.

"Oh baby, that's the point. Cum for me, Din. Cum inside me, baby." The commanding words tumbled from your mouth, mixed with your shameless moans as you held back your own orgasm, wanting to clamp down around his cock as he came. With a jerk, you felt his cock twitch inside you, and Din cursed loudly with a groan. He seized your hips even harder than he had before, firmly holding you against his own as he came hard, his cum spilling deep inside you. With his heat filling you, you let go, releasing your own orgasm and contracting around his length, milking every drop.

You collapsed on top of Din with an overstimulated sob, not even bothering to pull off of his throbbing member. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you, his ragged breath in your ear slowly steadying and returning to normal.

"Fuck, that was beautiful," Din murmured. "You're beautiful. Oh Maker, you're so beautiful."

Din wasn't sure what was happening to him but he couldn't stop talking. Every thought, praises, rambling, absolute nonsense, that crossed his mind left his mouth, completely out of his control. You giggled, your own cock drunk brain unable to comprehend little else other than how sweet his soft grin was or how he had only one dimple on his left cheek.

"I'm going to just fall asleep like this if that's alright with you," Din said, rolling you over onto your side so he could pull the covers over the two of you and hold you. You giggled again as he rested his chin on the top of your head and you buried your face in his chest, letting his warmth wrap around you. "And then I'm never leaving."

Though he said the words lightly, it was difficult to ignore the finality they carried, so you deflected. "Didn't you promise Zena you would train with her in the morning?"

Din groaned at the reminder. "I did, didn't I?"

When you didn't respond, he looked down at your face. Your eyes had closed softly and your breath was deepening, sleep starting to tug at the edges of your brain. You hadn't realized how tired you were until you were hunkered down, feeling the security of Din's fingers pressed against your back, the rising and falling of his chest lulling you into a sense of safety.

Din pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, believing you to be asleep, but needing to say these next words anyway, needing to make up somehow the failures of your grandfather.

"I know I won't always be around. I can't always stay. But I'll always come back. I promise."

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lyledebeast · 4 years

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Righteous Fury and the Women of BBC Robin Hood

Every time I think about BBC Robin Hood nowadays, this is the thought that goes through my head: Damn, that show would’ve been good if the writers didn’t hate women!

Nonetheless, there ARE some great female characters in all three seasons of the show. The problem is that, because the writing itself is sexist, all of the men are and remain sexist to some degree except for maybe Much and Sir Edward. It’s almost unreasonable to lay blame on individual characters because the sexism is so pervasive and normalized. One thing the writers do get right, though, is that most of the women are angry most of the time. How could they not be?

The problem is that the women’s anger is always judged on the basis of whether it serves the men’s goals and what might be called “the greater good;” unsurprisingly, there is much overlap between the two. It’s never judged on the basis of how reasonable it is from the woman’s perspective. This can apply to every woman in the story, but for the sake of time, I’m going to look at just three.

Marian

Oh, Marian. I think most people would agree that the most egregious example of sexism in this show is when Marian is fridged to develop Robin and Guy’s story lines, but she is beleaguered by sexism from the beginning. For all the time we know her, she has men trying to control and silence her, and when she rages against Guy and Vaisey for that, we’re meant to cheer. But they are the villains oppressing everyone in the story. When she’s angry with Robin, we’re meant to be suspicious at best.

Sure, she says she’s angry that he abandoned the people of Nottingham to go adventuring and then came back wanting to be THE hero, but is that really why she’s angry?? ;) ;)

Yes. Yes it is.

Because he did leave, and while he was gone she constructed a new identity for herself that allowed her to help people in ways Marian of Knighton never could. And then he came back and wanted her to stop, because this town’s only big enough for one hero, right? Of course, she never does stop, not really, and the narrative punishes her relentlessly for that.

Kate

It was a struggle, I’ll admit, deciding whether to pair Kate and Isabella under the same heading because, as they’re written, it’s hard not to see them as different sides of Marian split into two different women and made to catfight over Robin. But I decided they both deserve better than that.

So, Kate is a character whose anger is treated as selfish and petulant at the beginning because she’s resentful of Robin and the gang. Over time, when her goals shift from protecting her family in particular to aligning with the gang’s to point where she is the one sent off to find King Richard, her anger becomes righteous.

It’s also worth nothing that, of Robin’s three love interests, he seems to treat her the best. He actually takes the time to explain to her why he’s set aside his anger with Guy, which is more than he does for anyone else. If she’s less angry with Robin than Marian or Isabella, that may have more to do with his behavior than with her personality.

Isabella

I’ll just preface this by saying I am an unapologetic Isabella stan. Yes, she does a lot of ruthless things, but she’s also a character who goes from being a sympathetic abuse survivor to one of the main villains of season three in the space of a single episode specifically because she attacks the hero’s masculinity. I’m contractually obligated to love her.

Her arc is an inversion of Kate’s. At the beginning, she seems to genuinely want to help Robin and the gang achieve their goals. Getting revenge on her brother is also part of her plan, but it’s Gisborne, so the gang is unlikely to object to that.

But then Robin leads her on and realizes that he’s still in love with his dead wife only when Isabella wants him to commit. Then he calls her a murderer when she kills her abusive husband in self defense, and before we know it, she’s afflicted with Psycho *itch Syndrome, the condition of a woman who is angry with a man who doesn’t want to admit he’s done anything wrong. Which is not to say her actions that result from her anger are justifiable; they’re not. But her anger very much is.

Sometimes I wonder what Robin Hood would be like if had been written by women, or by people who saw women as having value that isn’t tied to how they make men feel about themselves. It’s hard to imagine, but I don’t think these women would need to be all that different themselves. They all have the potential to be well-rounded, complex characters. But I think they would be treated very differently and their arcs would certainly be very different.

#my gang to me 2020 #marian #kate #isabella thornton #sexism

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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Globe, December 7

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Hillary Clinton health crisis

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Larsa Pippen in a bikini in Fort Lauderdale, Olivia Culpo wrestles with recycling outside her L.A. office, Shia LaBeouf ditches his face covering for a phone call in an L.A. market

Page 3: Pete Wentz plays tennis, Bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe outside the Dancing with the Stars studio, Sean Penn hits the beach in Hawaii

Page 4: Barbara Walters was sharp as a tack when she grilled the world’s biggest leaders but ravaging dementia has now tragically turned the 91-year-old into a prisoner in her own bed

Page 5: Pistol-packing Elvis Presley was so gaga over guns that he’d even take a firearm to bed with him

* Ringo Starr’s childhood bout with appendicitis at age six caused him to fall into a coma and spend a year in the hospital to recover then five years later he contracted tuberculosis and spent two years in a sanitarium where he discovered drums as part of the hospital band

Page 6: If it’s true that Gentleman Prefer Blondes Marilyn Monroe was the perfect star for the flick because she dyed her carpet platinum to match the drapes -- beauty guru Kenneth Battelle suggested Marilyn change the color of her pubic hair after a jerk spilled champagne over her sheer dress at a party showing everything because she didn’t wear skivvies so the guru ran to the hotel drugstore and got some dye and told Marilyn to go in the bathroom and bleach

Page 7: Celine Dion has turned into a frightening bag of bones leaving friends worried she’s headed for a catastrophic health crisis -- now down to a gaunt 96 pounds the star is driving herself to the brink of collapse with a diet and exercise plan to prepare for the relaunch of her hit world tour and she starves herself in her drive for perfection and to maintain the stick-thin look that helped turn her into a fashion icon

* Julianne Hough confesses feeling she didn’t deserve the A-list life she enjoyed while dating Ryan Seacrest where she was on private planes and yachts and living in a very well-off house and her life was pretty different from where she grew up -- she left Ryan in 2013 after three years because she wanted to create that for herself because she felt like she didn’t deserve it

Page 8: Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson is searching for the Fountain of Youth by working out with Pierce Brosnan’s trainer -- the ex-wife of disgraced Prince Andrew is following a grueling exercise regimen in hopes of joining people who are said to be biologically younger than their true age

Page 9: Disgraced Prince Andrew has been kicked from the royal family and now Prince Charles plans to boot his sister Princess Anne from his inner circle once he becomes king -- while the princess has carried her share of official engagements Charles plans to shrink the monarchy after his mother Queen Elizabeth passes and the phrase slimmed-down royal family constantly keeps coming up and the royal family will evolve with Charles coming to the throne -- Anne will be on the chopping block mostly because of ambitious Duchess Camilla who is Charles’ wife and who has carried out a ruthless dirty plan to be queen for decades and she wants no one else taking the limelight and that includes Charles’ sister

* Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle dissed his dad Prince Charles with a surprising public snub as the couple failed to publicly wish Charles a happy birthday when he turned 72 -- Queen Elizabeth and Prince William and Duchess Kate all sent birthday wishes to the future king on social media but Harry and Meghan took a pass even though Harry popped up on the British TV show Strictly Come Dancing that night to wish a pal good luck

Page 10: A nuclear-sized catfight has exploded in North Korea where dictator Kim Jong-un’s baby sister and his pop star lover are battling to claw their way to be top gal -- while sister Kim Yo-jong seemed to be running the nation after Kim vanished and was rumored dead he popped back up with old galpal Hyon Song-wol on his arm and his current wife Ri Sol-ju nowhere to be seen

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Mario Lopez wearing a clear mask (picture), Lauren Simon of The Real Housewives of Cheshire in the U.K. claims to have had sex with an actual ghost, Kaley Cuoco has a theory about shooting those sexy big bangs with ex-boyfriend Johnny Galecki that the pair’s sneaky sitcom boss got a kick putting the real-life former lovers under the covers, Reese Witherspoon lost her beloved dog Pepper to cancer and returned to her ole Southern roots when picking a name for her brand-new puppy: Minnie Pearl, plagued by seemingly endless allegations of being mean and ignoring a toxic workplace Ellen DeGeneres is now plugging a Be Kind subscription box valued at $270

Page 13: Kristen Taekman tops of her gas tank in L.A. (picture), Jeff Goldblum feeding a parking meter in L.A. (picture), Hilary Duff gets primped and primed on the NYC set of Younger (picture)

Page 14: Reclusive ailing widow Yoko Ono finally loosened the reins and is handing over her $800 million empire to Sean Lennon her only child with Beatles legend John Lennon but John’s eldest son Julian Lennon was left out of the hitmaker’s will but Julian managed to eke out a $25 million settlement okayed by Yoko after he dragged his famous dad’s estate to court, Kelsea Ballerini snapped at a nosy fan for rudely asking if her rounded tummy was a blossoming baby bump

* Fashion Verdict -- Lara Spencer 9/10, Laura Veltz 2/10, Lauren Akins 3/10, Lauren Alaina 4/10

Page 16: Michael Jackson’s baby mama Debbie Rowe reveals getting pregnant was no thrill because she was artificially impregnated -- Debbie met ex-husband Michael when she was working for his dermatologist and she insists the couple never had sex and a sperm donor fathered the pop star’s two kids she carried in her womb -- son Prince Jackson is rumored to have been fathered by Debbie’s doctor boss Arnold Klein -- British actor Mark Lester claims her could be Paris Jackson’s father -- Debbie is unsure of the paternity of Michael’s youngest son Blanket who now goes by Bigi Jackson

Page 17: Fans gaga for Dr. McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy got a super thrill on the season 17 premiere when Patrick Dempsey returned to the hit hospital drama after departing the show five years ago -- Dempsey whose character Dr. Derek Shepherd died in a car crash came back in a dream sequence reuniting with star Ellen Pompeo’s Dr. Meredith Grey on a beach -- Dempsey split from the show to spend more time with his family and pursue his auto racing hobby but he’ll return to the show several more times

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Emma Corrin

* Reba McEntire reveals she turned down The Voice gig that went to Blake Shelton and now she regrets it big-time

* Nip/tuck junkie Dolly Parton says she plans to keep freshening her face by going under the knife and crows she’s gonna look like a cartoon and she’ll look as young as her plastic surgeons will allow her

Page 20: True Crime

Page 21: Former soap stud Cody Longo was socked with a domestic abuse charge following a jealous booze-fueled attack on his dancer wife Stephanie Clark -- Cody played Nicholas Alamain on Days of Our Lives from 2011-2012

Page 23: Meredith Baxter felt booby-trapped by her enormous breasts and confesses she welcomed breast-reduction surgery after getting cancer -- the Family Ties star reveals her former 42-inch bust was the plague of her life

* Weatherman Al Roker has a secret weapon in his stormy battle to recover from prostate cancer surgery which is the love and support of his wife Deborah Roberts who is keeping him happy and positive doting on him day and night plus they talk about everything and make medical decisions together so there’s no fear or anxiety entering their world

* Jennifer Lopez kicked booty when a federal judge dismissed a $40 million lawsuit brought by a former stripper who claims she inspired the hit movie Hustlers -- Samantha Barbash claims she’s the real-life model for J.Lo’s pole-dancing swindler Ramona Vega and insisted the movie ruined her rep by implying she did drugs around her kids but the judge tossed the case because Barbash’s name or portrait or picture or voice wasn’t used in the film

Page 24: Cover Story -- Hillary Clinton has tragically packed on nearly 100 pounds since she vanished from the spotlight four years ago and is struggling to breathe and walk and now a medical expert is warning the 73-year-old is facing a health crisis as she tips the scales at 247 pounds -- Hillary has a history of broken bones and shocking collapses

Page 26: Health Report

Page 30: Country girl Carly Pearce’s divorce from Michael Ray has gone from bad to ugly and he’s now parading his romance with Travis Tritt’s daughter Tyler Reese Tritt -- Carly was all for taking the high road but now she’s taken off the gloves -- they’re bad-mouthing each other far and wide and Carly’s tossed everything that reminds her of Michael

* Southern Charm belle Madison LeCroy has been flashing a pic of her newest charms which is a set of bigger boobs

Page 36: Diva Mariah Carey’s demanding ways are driving her boyfriend Bryan Tanaka bonkers and the couple of four years may be headed for Splitsville unless she changes her ways -- Mariah treats Bryan like an assistant instead of a lover and it’s giving him fits and he’s been so patient with Mariah and he loves her but she’s wearing him out with her incessant orders like she has him drawing up her schedule for online greets plus she’s ordering him to do all her holiday shopping for friends and be in charge of everything from decorations to food prep

* Emma Roberts confesses being pregnant makes her weepy and she’s hit the point where like halfway up the stairs she has to sit down sometimes and maybe tears roll down a couple times a week but despite that Emma says she feels grateful and lucky to be expecting her first child

Page 38: Real Life

Page 40: Phil Collins’ embarrassing court battle with third ex Orianne Cevey is casting a pall over his daughter Lily Collins’ wedding plans -- Lily is desperate to tie the knot with Charlie MacDowell but the dirty charges flying back may force her to put the happy day on hold and it’s hard for Lily to concentrate on making wedding plans when her father is caught in an ugly public fight -- Orianne is battling over Phil’s $38 million Miami mansion where they lived after reuniting in 2018

Page 44: Straight Talk -- NXIVM cult is warning to us all

Page 45: Treasure hunters have launched a frantic search for a $150 million stash of gangster gold hidden by mobster Dutch Schultz in Upstate New York after two sleuths recently discovered coins they believe are linked to the stash -- following a long list of cryptic clues Canadian fortune seekers Steve Zazulyk and Ryan Fazekas uncovered gold coins dated 1903 a few miles from the Prohibition Era beer baron’s hangout in the Catskills town of Phoenicia and their find triggered a race against other prosecutors seeking a two-by-three-foot steel box filled with diamonds and gold coins and $1000 bills and $7 billion in World War I Liberty Bonds and the hoard has an estimated value of $150 million today

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shaydeoffical · 4 years

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Bright as a Diamond. Shinso Hitoshi x Fem Reader: Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary:

The family has to come together to make a tough choice after tradgey strikes. Shinso and (Y/n) share a moment of understanding, and grow closer.

Series Summary:

When (Y/N)’s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren’t all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it’s time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than ‘roommate’ Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she’s ready to learn.

Author Note: This chapter can be heavy for some readers, so please mindful of the warnings and the tags. This is still a long chapter, but we are finally moving into the friends stage of this story.

Warning: Cpr, blood, violence towards an animal, reckless driving, unwanted text messages, fear of home invasion.

Last chapter: chapter seven

Next chapter: TBC

The Right Choice

Finally, in my own room, I had the window open, my hand dangling over the flower pot below. Hisoka was sitting under my palm, purring contently, pawing at the dying flower steams. It was no wonder the cat hated being inside, he was a true mouser. He had brought me several birds and field mice since I gained his trust. Hunting was in his blood, and the cushy life was for soft cats. Not him, he lived for the chase and stopped by for affection on his own terms. Even sitting here out of pity with me, he had to occupy his mind boxing with dying flowers. Hisoka was allowed to be himself without hesitation or judgment. He was strong, resilient, and sensitive too.

Squashing his long fur between my fingers, I wished with all my soul to turn into a cat. So I could run to and from as I pleased, no one the wiser as to where I go, but they celebrate and host a feast for me when I return. Basking in the sun and chasing mice of the afternoon, curling up under the moon. That would be a more pleasurable existence than this.

A buzz caught my attention, Hisoka taking my moment of hesitation as a sign he could leave. Reaching to my nightstand, I grabbed my phone.

It was fully charged, finally coming back to life after draining the battery. Once the loading screen was done, ding after ding and message after a message appeared, all from Kira. The four letters flashed like a flipbook, emails, messages, voicemails, dropbox, and every other app singing out his name. Resting my fingers over the bandage on my neck, I froze up. Scanning through the messages, there were pictures of me in the hospital, even one of me getting into the car. Some of Shota buckling me in, and Hizashi driving us home. Home.

"Help!" I slammed the window shut, tearing into the hall. Barley upright, I held my phone out once I was in the living room. The group fo pro all on their feet and ready to jump to action. "He was at the hospital. He might know where we are…I-"trembling, I hand Hizashi the phone, his eyes narrowing in on the texts. I hadn't even got a chance to read all of what he said. Looking at Uncle Sho for some sort of comfort, he instead shared a glance with Shinso.

Shota and Shinso shut and locked all the doors and windows, glancing outside for good measure. Sho worked on shutting the blinds, and Shinso opened the front door and stepped outside.

"Take a seat, baby." Hiazahi sat on the sofa and patted the spot beside him. Slotting against his side, he wrapped one around my shoulder. Sho started to comb through the house, putting his capture weapon around his neck, checking everything from the cupboards to the closets. Any other time I'd make a closest joke, but there was no laughing at this situation.

Hizashi scanned through the messages, taking screencaps with one hand. Resting my head on his shoulder, tears slipping onto his shirt. The minutes ticked by, the click of my phone's shutter feature reminding me that there were more messages than Hizashi's finger could keep up with. He had the sound off, but it was still vibrating.

"No one followed us," Shinso broke the tension, shuffling his shoes off once again. Before he shut the door, I noticed that my bicycle was tied to the back of his trunk. I guess he went back and got it...that's kind of thoughtful.

"The house is clear, too. We can relax, for now, the police said Kira didn't have access to transportation. We will have to be more careful when we come and go from now on."

"We should turn your phone off and take it to the police tomorrow." Hizashi reasoned, pulling the battery out. "This is a sensitive situation, and as long as we stay calm, we can handle it."

"I'm taking it tonight," Shota took the phone, shoving it in his pocket. "The faster we get this evidence to the police, the more we can charge him with. I trust you three to watch the house while I'm gone."

"Don't go." I grabbed his shirt sleeve, using his arm as a crutch. He was in front of the door, about to put his shoes on. "It can wait. It's the night before the work week, there's probably a ton of drunk drivers out." It had been close to nine when we got home, but now it was closing time for most bars. "Don't risk your safety." Something fell outside, and I moved my grip to his waist. Burying my head into his back, I quivered. "Uncle Sho, please don't open the door."

"I'm a pro hero (Y/n), have more faith in me." He ran his fingers through my hair and sighed, eyes closed. "There's nothing to be afraid of as long as Shinso and Hizashi are here. It's going to be okay."

"Pro's get in car accidents and die like the rest of us." I shot back, tightening my hold. "There's a bad feeling in my gut."

"This is important. I will go slow and text Hizashi when I've made it. Now go back to bed and rest like the doctor ordered."

"But-"

"No buts, now go to sleep." Begrudgingly I let him go, watching him pull his shoes on. When he opened the door, there was no barrage waiting to take him out or a loaded gun. Watching him safely walk to his car, I eased my nerves that Kira didn't know where I lived. Maybe I wanted to assume it was safe.

"Do you have to go to work? The air quality isn't so great today. The doctor said you have to take it easy."

"Nonsense, heroes always show up. Rain or smog, I have to go, honey." She kissed my forehead and locked the door in her wake.

Shota was gone. I slumped to the couch and curled up on one half, plucking at the loose thread on a throw pillow. Hizashi and Shinso watched me curiously from the armchairs. Closing my eyes, I tried to sleep the best I could with a sling on. After an hour, Hizashi told me that Shota had made it and was doing some follow up questions. I just nodded and decided that it was safe enough to go outside. Someone would have broken in by now. Plus, Hizashi said there weren't any pictures of our house on my phone.

It didn't matter if I was afraid or if someone was out there. The house felt smaller than ever, and I needed the wide-open space. Hisoka was chilling by my side as I sat with my feet hanging off the porch. Somewhere in my head, I convinced myself that fresh air would do me good. Crisp, cold fall air carried magic on its heels, and if I closed my eyes tight enough, I could see it slip through my lashes.

"Meow," A cat called in the distance. Hisoka was silent, so it wasn't him. Curious, I stretched my legs and used the porch as a crutch till my foot woke up. The pinpricks stopped, and I looked at Hisoka.

"Come on, silly," I mumbled, picking up the cat and receiving a scratch on my functional forearm. "Be that way, I ain't no scaredy-cat."

I approached the direction I heard the cat. There was another meow after a few minutes, and I froze to listen more intently. I was getting closer to the garage on the backside of the house. If I didn't know better, the cat was running from me, probably scared half to death.

"Here kitty kitty kitty," I cooed, scanning the brush and upper tree branches. "I won't hurt you. You want something to eat? Meow meow." A twig snapped, and I caught a glimpse of something running.

Going in that direction, I stopped when I saw Hisoka round the tree and hiss first. A catfight was surely about to break out. Before I could take more than two long leaps to break up the fight, a hand grabbed mine.

"What are you doing?" Shinso refused to let go when I tried to wriggle free.

"There's a cat-back here. Hisoka found it first, so I'm about to break up a fight…wait, he isn't hissing anymore." My heart leaped out of my chest, and I snatched my hand away and darted where I last heard the noise.

"Hisoka, are you okay?" I called, stumbling over my feet. Rounding the corner. Hisoka had a gash along his chest. "Hitoshi, get the medical kit." I freed my arm from the sling and put Hisoka's warm body into the bottom, as not to add more pressure to his wounds.

"What- shit." Shinso took his grey body from me and ran into the house. I followed suit, taking a moment to look for the other cat, with no luck.

"Hizashi, where is the medkit," I began pulling cabinets open. Shinso applied pressure to the wound with a dishrag. Hisoka mewled in pain, unable to fight against being in the house.

Hizashi ran out of his bedroom. "What's wrong with Hisoka?" Hizashi pushed me aside, pulling the medkit from under the sink, rushing it to Shinso. Hizashi was far better at first aid than either of us, being a hero for much longer.

"A cat got him. There must a stray someone turned loose out there," I explained, putting myself to making a comfortable box to get him to the vet in.

"It could have been a raccoon too," Shinso added, handing Hizashi the tools before he could ask. Hizashi placed swelling pads in the cut to stop the bleeding, then wrapped it carefully.

"Here," I placed the box down by the coffee table and waited for them to put him inside. Getting closer, I could see his eyes had closed. His little body was breathing heavily. A pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Big crocodile tears swelled from my eyes. Mourning. I held back my sobs, not wanting to take away attention from my little friend. He was my friend…and I asked him to follow me to check on this stray.

The scratch on my arm was proof that he was a fighter and didn't go down without a brawl. Hisoka wanted to live, no doubt. Hizashi placed Hisoka into the transport box I made from a laundry basket. I opened the front door and got the car keys. Our little group rushing to the car.

"I got him, I'll sit in the back," I said, crawling in and taking him into my lap.

"Is there even a vet open this late?" Shinso pulled up his phone, sitting on the passenger side. Hizashi rushed down our driveway, rocking the cab. I held the side of the basket and eased the shock of each bump.

"It's going to be okay….you were so brave. You know that, right?" I cooed, running my hand over his favorite spot. "You must have known that was a mean cat and tried to protect us… we don't deserve you. But please stay with us." Shinso was giving Hizashi directions, both too busy to notice my encouragement.

"It's half an hour away." Shinso looked back at me through the mirror, and I held his lavender gaze for a moment.

"I can do twenty," Hizashi stated, pushing the gas down and tossing on his emergency lights.

The back seat was lit up red and white—the colored light casting a sickly shadow on Hisoka. I hummed a little tune, running my fingers through his fur. Making sure his chest would rise and fall. My own body was in terrible pain, but I knew his was much worse. Still, I hadn't stopped crying; the tears had just run dry. There was so much more pain for me to let go of for Hisoka.

It crossed my mind that if Shota had been home, he'd known what to do. We knew what to do, but Shota was so calm. I guess Shinso was rational, but I wanted Shota…not lent ball.

A small croak escaped Hisoka's lips, his breathing stopping. I lost my voice. What do I do? What do- "He's- Hisoka stopped breathing."

"Watch out, Mic." Shinso unbuckled, crawling through the seats into the back.

"Can you help him?" I kept the basket in my lap but gave him access.

"Let's hope so." Shinso turned Hisoka on his back and began pumping his little chest.

"Turn right in five miles." Shinso's phone sputtered.

"Hold on kids," Hizashi floored it.

"Should I give him breath?" I asked, trying desperately to help.

"No, just keep talking to him." Shinso was on his knees, holding the seat with one hand and pumping with the other.

"Come on, Hisoka. We're almost there." I rubbed his forehead. "I know you want to be lazy, but you got to fight really hard for us."

"Here," Hizashi honked the horn for the doctors and slammed the break. Shinso went flying into the middle console, and I took over compressions. I flung the door open with one arm and then bounced out. I stopped compressions and sprinted inside the little wooden clinic.

"Help, my cats been attacked. He's not breathing." I caught the receptionist's attention.

"Do you have money to pay for his care?" She asked, popping her gum as she hit a bell to summon the doctor.

"Of course," Hizashi was the next one through the door. I was back at cpr, having the basket on the counter, waiting for the doctor.

"I'll get an estimate after they look at him." She took him from me when no one came running and stepped into the back.

The front door slammed, and Shinso put his phone in his pocket. "Mr. Aizawa knows where we are."

"It's going cost between three to five hundred dollars," the women returned with a calculator. "Do you want us to start treatment."

"Yes, why are you waiting?" I asked, knowing I had it in my saving if Hizashi didn't.

"We'll need a down-"Shinso cut the woman off and slammed two hundred on the counter. "I'll let the doctors know." She sauntered into the back. My arms fell to my side, and I wiped my forehead. My body was rushing with energy, and nothing left to give it too.

Once she was gone, I noticed the small room had chipped yellow walls, with a busted molding around the bottom. The place smelt like dogs, as to be expected. The pictures and information packets were all scattered about the lobby with little organization. Shinso's gaze met mine, and we both knew what the other was thinking.

"Maybe the doctors are great." Hizashi was thinking the same thing too.

"I pray so," I wiped my eyes and sat. The shaking wouldn't stop, no matter how tightly I held myself. Hizashi leaned against the one wall that didn't look like it was about to collapse, and Shinso murmured to him.

When their conversation was done, Shinso went out to the car, and it was just Mic and me in the lobby. A few minutes passed, neither of us could find the words that generally passed so easily between us. The receptionist returned with a packet, and a cigarette loose between her lips.

"I need you to fill this out." She motioned me over, and I quickly held my hand out for the packet. She dropped them on the counter, and they flew to the floor. She turned with a lackluster smirk. I swore she mumbled something under her breath, but I didn't really care.

I bent over with my body making horrible popping noises. With the papers gathered, I sat on the wobbly wooden bench and started the information. The first few lines were easy enough to fill out. My eyes blurred, but I could still make it out.

"How old is Soka?" I asked, using my leg as a support for the paper. My letters were coming out in loose swirls, and I slowed down. I didn't know as much about the cat as I thought I did.

"Ten," Hizashi put his hands in his pajama pockets and looked at the floor. "He at least lived a long life."

"Don't talk like that." I scolded him, writing the number down. The door opened with a cold chill, and Shinso returned toting a few items from the car. He handed Mic a coat and then turned to me with a scarf.

"Give me your hand," He ordered, and I did so without much thought. "You can't have your hand down this long." He pulled out a packet of wet wipes, and cleaned the blood from my arms, focus on my fingernails and knuckles where my skin had cracked earlier.

"I could do this," I murmured, looking down the hall where Hisoka was being cared for.

"You're a clutz. I know you can do it, but I can do it better." A smug grin pulled at his lips. I supposed he was trying to be funny or light-hearted. But it was hard to dwell on anything but Hisoka.

"Lint ball trying to be cute, huh?" I puffed up and turned my nose up. "Won't work on me. I know you got underlying motives." He flinched, pausing his work.

"So, you think I'm a bad guy?" The question was light as every other, but I could see the line on his forehead, the slight force behind his smirk

"At first, I believed you were an ass." I thought back to how he held Hisoka, how he held me and when he refused to hit me during our training… "But, though I'm not often wrong, you're half decent. Did I think you were ever bad? No. Prick. Yes."

"I see." He glanced at the bloody wipes and then guided my hand to my chest, wrapping the scarf around me carefully. "So, the kitten's finally submitted?"

I slapped his shoulder. "No, I have not submitted, I just don't hate you is all. You're tolerable. A decent dude to keep around. That's it."

"You're turning red." I smacked my hand to my face, and he was lying. My skin was normal, no doubt.

"Don't tease me." I crossed my legs, trying to ignore his slight grin.

"You are a little red," he insisted, "hold still." He pressed his brow to mine. "Hey Mic, come feel her forehead." His banter stopped, and now it was time for 'what else can go wrong' with (Y/n)?

"This isn't about me, it's about Hisoka." I moped, clawing at my throat. Shinso took the papers from me and walked behind the desk. He came back with a clipboard and started to finish where I left off. Of course, he didn't care to just walk around like he owned the place.

Hizashi pressed his hand to my forehead and knitted his brows together. Next, he felt my forearm and wrist. "You're a little cold. Do you feel alright?"

"I'm stressed." I brushed it off, closing my eyes for a moment. "I'm sure my body is having a meltdown." I leaned back and swallowed the flehm in my throat. A cat cried in the distance, and I bit down on my check. "When is Shota getting here?"

"Soon," Hizashi pulled the coat around his waist tighter and sat beside me. I didn't recognize my body. I was drifting to a faraway place, where there was nothing but static echoing across my soul. His arm brushing against mine, and sweat was dripping down my neck. I wasn't okay. I wasn't safe.

"I'm here," Shota burst into the small room, and Hizashi leaped from my side to his arms. I guess the hierarchy of who can break down on who ended with Shota at that top and me being the cry baby at the bottom. Still, I curled into myself.

Another painful mewl stretched across the clinic. Gawking at the floor, I rocked slightly. The quick thump in my ears made me think I was going to die. Dying. Hisoka was dying in the back room. I dug my nails into my palm and shut out the conversation. How Hisoka got here mattered. It was protecting me, or following me, or whatever it involved me. I was the root of the problem. I was a problem.

"I'm taking her out for a walk." A hand guided me up, and I zoned back in. "Those two need a minute," Shinso informed me, pulling open the clinic door and tugging me behind him. Hizashi was a ball on the floor, and Uncle Sho was nearly in tears. If we were gone, they could both let loose.

Shinso walked past the car and partly down the road before stopping. I landed in his back when he let me go, and instinctively I wrapped my arm around his waist. A small gasp left my lips before I nuzzled the curve of his spine. The wind was nipping at my neck. Leaves tickling my ankles. Smoke tickled my nose from a nearby bonfire.

His hands crossed over mine. There were small hitches in his posture. Then the slightest whimper escaped his lips. I squeezed tighter, putting as much weight as possible on him. My head was spinning, it was my fault. Shinso was going to make fun of me, or ball me out for what happened. Fuck.

I loosened my hold, and Shinso broke the silence. "Hisoka, he's-"his body racked, pulling away. He refused to look at me, blubbering cries escaping.

I kneeled on the gravel road and listened intently. My skinned knees bursting under the bandages. This is what I deserve.

There were no scars, only scabs. They told me you never really heal. You only learn not to stretch the damaged parts.

"He's a fighter (Y/n), there's no reason to be so anxious." Shinso spat, looking at the sky. "I've known him since he was a kitten. I was the first person to notice him at Mr. Aizawa's house. My own cat passed a few years ago, and I'm not ready to lose Hisoka too."

"I'm sorry." My voice betrayed me, and my broken tone caused Shinso to turn. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for him to get hurt." I grasped handfuls of gravel and let them fall through my fingers. "I've caused you nothing but trouble. Hisoka was on to that cat because I was out there. I encouraged him to follow me. I didn't know." I pulled my hair. "You must think I'm a monster. Even now making it about me, when it's about Hisoka. About the vet. About my uncle needing space to cry."

"It's not your fault," Shinso affirmed. "I don't hate you." He kneeled in front of me and pulled my face up. "I actually like you. If I didn't, you know it by now."

"What does that even mean?" I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. A car pulled in quickly. Grabbing Hitoshi, I pushed us off the road, rolling in the grass. Hitoshi rolled us over a few times to gain distance and landed on top of me.

"Damn it. You hurt?" Shinso maintained his position on me, several more cars turning wildly.

"I'm confused," I squinted past the headlights, blood oozing in my splint. The heat fading as it left my body. "Fuck, my wrist."

"Let me see," Hitoshi pulled out his phone light and got off me. He examined my arm while I looked at the car caravan. Both of us stretched out in the grass.

"I think they have a sick dog." I watched them walk their dog to the door. "He's upright, so hopefully their puppy is okay. Oww" Shinso applied pressure to my wrist.

"You opened it a little. The stitches looked intact." He put his phone away and glanced at the clinic. "I know we pulled in fast, but we didn't almost kill anyone." I could see the tears that were still streaming down his cheeks. He really was trying to act cool.

Leaning up, I ran my sleeve over his face. "It's going to be okay." He looked almost handsome under the moonlight, almost.

"It will be." He smiled softly down at me, lowering his face till it was inches from mine. My throat closed up, and I held my breath. "Now you're really blushing."

"I'm just stressed Lint ball, don't flatter yourself." I puffed out my chest but didn't move our position. "You're so lucky I'm not stronger or I'd have you quivering beneath me begging for mercy."

"Oh, so you admit that you're weaker than me? You must have hit your head at some point to be making those kinds of statements." He put his arms under my back and sat me up so he could hold pressure to my wound better.

"I must have," I just agreed with him, and I could have sworn his face dusted red. "It's cold out here Lint Ball, lets get back inside." He stood up and helped me.

"You're really sticking with Lint Ball?" He took my hand and walked closet the road. I could tell he was still eerie of the cars that had just pulled in.

"Yup," I popped the p, and winced, my foot curling around a rock. "Are you sticking with kitten?" He tugged me tighter to his waist.

"Oh yea," he grinned before stopping. Mic and Shota were outside, and Hizashi was using his inside voice... "What's the update?" Shinso caught their attention.

"They rushed the dog right back." Hizashi crossed his arms. "The poor thing swallowed a silica packet."

"Let's just hope the vets are nicer than the night staff," I huffed. A small fog formed where my breath had been. "We can't be mad; their dog got help faster, but we can write an angry yelp review later. We just need to keep waiting for answers." I shoved my hand in my pocket and stood by Shota.

"We do have an update." Shota glanced at Shinso, lips in a thin line. "He's stable for now, but it might be more humane to let him go."

"Can we see him?" Shinso took a shallow breath and looked at the door.

"In a few minutes, they are going to bring us back." Hizashi clung to Shota's arm, taking care to hide his tears.

"Who makes the final choice?" I asked, holding myself the best I could with one arm. "What does the vet think?

"We should make it as a family." Hizashi nodded, grabbing mine and Shinso's hand while resting against Shota. "First, let's go see him and really think about his quality of life."

The vet brought us back shortly after. We traveled in pairs to make it less stressful for Hisoka. I went back with Shinso, leading the way I opened the door and choked on my own spit.

"He's stable like I said, but his vocal cords are snapped. We managed to fix his airways, but there's no grantee he'll be able to maintain breathing on his own." Hisoka was hooked up to a bunch of tubes that were helping him breathe. There were iv's and monitors all around the small cage they had him resting in. His throat was covered in bandages, and his eyes were barely open and lulled back in his head.

I reached through the bars and held his giant paw, it was cold and lifeless. Words didn't describe what I was feeling. There were only the sobs echoing from Shinso that set off my own tears. Shinso kneeled behind me, caging me with one arm supporting himself against the enclosure and the other rubbing small circles on Hisoka's arm.

"I'll give you two a minute." The vet left, shutting the door behind her.

The analog clock mixed with the gentle beep of the heart monitor filled the small room. We couldn't stop crying, and I didn't think Hisoka would want us to cry. He was a fierce cat, the kind that took no fruff fruff bullshit. Hisoka loved killing mice, fighting off spiders, and rolling in the leaves. Sure, I didn't know him very long, but he was a great cat. He deserved to keep doing all those things, but this wasn't looking good.

"(Y/n)." Shinso was in my ear, his voice strained and tired. "You know what we need to do, right?"

"I don't want to say it, Hitoshi." My breathing was ragged, knees weak, and ready to give under me. If Hitoshi wasn't supporting me from behind, I'd already been on the floor.

"I'll say it for us. He's in pain."

The drive had been quiet. Once we were home, we all went to our rooms and locked ourselves away. This time, Hizashi didn't pretend to fall asleep in 'his' room but went straight to Shota's. After I stopped crying, I showered off and went to bed. Tomorrow would be a new day. A sad day, but a new one.

No one spoke at breakfast. Shinso had been the first up or hadn't slept at all, so he made breakfast. No one made a move to start up a conversation…which meant Hizashi was truly suffering. I didn't know what to do to help. There wasn't an easy answer to what was happening. We made the call to wait till morning and see if he improved. So now we were waiting for the vet to call.

It was mid-afternoon when Hizashi's phone rang. He wouldn't tell us what was said, but he started to smile. Once he was done with the conversation, he activated his quirk. "The Vet said Hisoka is gonna make it!" Shota kissed Hizashi, and they both spun for joy.

I glanced at Shinso, who was on the other side of the couch, we shared a smile and relief washed over us. Hisoka was going to be okay.

"The vet said that Recovery Girl stopped by this morning and was able to help reduce the swelling that was constricting his airways. I'm so glad Shota called her this morning."

"She deserves a Nobel peace prize," I said, not knowing who it was, but getting that she had a medical quirk from her name.

"When can he come home?" Shinso went to grab his car keys.

"They want to monitor his progress one more night, but we can bring him home tomorrow."

"I'm so happy." I cheered, tears of joy flooding my sore eyes. He was going to be okay.

#violence #animal violence #blood #trigger warning #enemies to friends to lovers #shinsou hitoshi #erasermic #eraser family #hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #my hero academia #fanfcition #reader insert #x reader #bnha x reader

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irlcats-bracket · 1 year

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Bracket 1 Round 3 Poll 4

Todd vs Toodles

TODD

This here. Right here. Is Todd. He is fat because? We don’t know, he gets fed normal amounts but he still manages to be fat. He is very soft and lovely. He has many many toes on each paw- the most submitter counted on one they believe was 12. He is the many-toe lad. The fat fellow. The lovey guy. The ultimate shedder (you would not BELIEVE how much this guy sheds. He creates an entire second cat DAILY!) Submitter hopes you like him, because they do :)

TOODLES

female, black fur with a white underbelly, very fluffy, green eyes

#catfight one #polls #cat #cats #catfight one round three #fun fact this round is pets only all the famous cats and memes were voted out #bye mrs chippy i loved you with my whole heart

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jurijurijurious · 4 years

Text

A snippet of Barbossabeth...

Here’s a sample of the Barbossabeth fanfic I found. The story itself only exists as lots of unfinished chapters that need threading together. I’ll hopefully give it some love when I find time, I think it’ll be worth the effort and a bit of fun, but I’m a bit rusty with my PotC fics - this draft is over 10 years old in itself.

It seems I had the idea to have a narrator begin or interrupt the chapters, then told the rest as a regular third-person narrative. It was also written pre-Potc4 and PotC5 but they might even help inspire an AU-type parallel story.

Anyway, you’re welcome to message me with comments if ye feel so inclined.

“Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose [Elizabeth] for certain.”--Jack Sparrow to Will Turner, PotC: AWE

Chapter [x]: A Divulgatory Mood

Elizabeth followed Barbossa out of the tavern, glad to be free from the acrid aroma of rum, blood and sweat which hung around like an unmovable miasma within. The night air in the street was not much better, though; the foul stench of alcohol out here mingled with vomit and raw sewage. Tortuga was the gutter of civilisation, and yet it had a certain appeal to it. Besides the fact it was the last free port, it was something of a haven, an escape from the outside world of law and order. It was little wonder that many pirates in these waters rarely made port anywhere else, and spent the majority of their lives out on the seas.

Barbossa seemed to know Tortuga extremely well – far better than Elizabeth – and she wondered where exactly they were heading as he took her on a winding stroll down multiple, dark back alleys, from which out of the crevices they were monitored by wary gazes and hungry eyes.

“Where are we going?” she asked him at length, striding up to his side and angling her head up toward his. “I’m beginning to suspect you’re taking me in circles.”

He favoured her with a little smile, his eyes twinkling. “Ye’re as bright as ever, aren’t ye?”

She stopped in her tracks, feet sliding into a thick pile of mud, and she gaped at him. “You are taking me in circles?” she asked in horror.

“Well, nawt exactly in circles,” Barbossa replied as he turned casually back to face her, placing one hand on his hip and the other on the butt of his flintlock. “More like back and forth and side to side. Criss-crossing.”

She blinked, a frown creasing her brow. “Why?”

He chuckled, giving her a once over with his eyes. “Perhaps nawt so bright, then,” he murmured.

He watched how her lips tautened and her eyes flared at him, infuriated by the insult, which only caused him to laugh some more.

“My dear Mrs Turner, can ye think o’ no reason I’d take ye on a long and winding stroll?”

Her gaze tightened on his person, thinking on this for a moment. “So that I might not know the way back?” she queried.

“P’raps,” he said before he gestured for her to come close. Reluctantly, she did, but did not to let her expression waver. Her face remained frigid and cold.

Barbossa put an arm round her shoulder, and she baulked, but he held her firm as he then whispered in her ear, “It’s more so we might throw off anyone who be following us.”

Elizabeth relaxed as she realised that he was one step ahead of her. She still had much to learn, it would seem. And perhaps, even now, he still aimed to teach her.

He released her with a pat to the shoulder and continued on his way, Elizabeth tailing him like a loyal dog shadowing its master. There were more turns ahead, then a couple of passes through other unsavoury taverns, where they entered through one door and left by another. Sinister eyes hawked at them both as they passed through, which left Elizabeth in no doubt that they were not welcome– or at least that she wasn’t.

As they emerged back into the streets, Barbossa made a turn to the left whilst overstepping several chickens that were loose in the alley, and Elizabeth, tired of this aimless trek, opened her mouth to protest. She was silenced before she even had chance to begin, though, as a couple of extravagantly dressed ladies suddenly emerged from a doorway and closed in on Barbossa like lionesses to a kill.

“You in need of a spot of company tonight, sir?” the first asked, a tall blonde in a lush, red dress. She slinked up to Barbossa and ran her hands up his chest whilst Elizabeth just stood and gaped.

“I thank ye, no,” Barbossa replied in what Elizabeth felt was far too easy a manner, and she watched the charmer in him flare up as he threw the woman a grin and gently moved her hands aside. He was a clear old hand at this game.

“I have other business to attend to tonight,” he continued, tapping the lady under the chin before turning to carry on his way.

Elizabeth made a step to follow but stopped again as the second woman, this one a brunette garbed in rich purple, walked around Barbossa and took a hold of him from behind. “Oh, surely you can fit a little bit extra on the side?” she cajoled, one hand sliding over his shoulder whilst she settled the other on the butt of his flintlock and began to rub it. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Elizabeth could not help but gawp even more. She wasn’t sure whether these two women were competing for the Captain, or whether they were asking him to come and ‘play’ with the pair of them; either way, she wasn’t sure what shocked her more – their open advances, or the fact that it was this man they were trying to draw some business from. Surely there were other more appealing prospects on the streets of Tortuga…?

Barbossa, meanwhile, took hold of the second lady’s hands and removed them from his person, before he brought her round before him in a very gentlemanly manner and then bent to kiss her hand. “Apologies, m’dears,” he said again, “but I can’t engage yer services tonight.”

And it was then that the two wenches deigned to notice Elizabeth who stood a short distance behind him. Their eyes took in her breeches and jacket, her messy hair shoved beneath an uneven tricorn, and they sneered in disgust.

“You’re not with that thing are you?” the blonde spat.

Barbossa looked back at Elizabeth, face betraying nothing. “Aye, but fer business, nawt fer pleasure.”

Elizabeth for some reason felt affronted by his choice of words, so folded her arms and cocked a brow at him. “Then shall we get on to some business, Captain?” she pressed.

She saw the flicker of Barbossa’s brow telling her to keep quiet, but she was hardly in the mood any more. Elizabeth Turner did not take to being snubbed lightly. But her attention was drawn aside from Barbossa as the brunette cackled wildly at her.

“My word, look at her!” jested the whore. “I half thought her a youth! There’s nothing womanly about her.”

Elizabeth glared at the woman, hand twitching for the pistol in her belt.

Barbossa ambled quickly between them, sliding an arm round the brunette and guiding her off toward the side of the alley. “Like I said, m’dear, I have business with this young lady. Nothing more.”

“I hope so,” the brunette scoffed. “Ye be a Captain, right? And a Captain deserves pleasuring by a real woman,” She ran a finger up his body, fingered the necklace over his chest, then tickled him lightly under the chin. “Not a skinny wretch of a girl with not a curve or figure to show for herself.”

“What did you say about me?” Elizabeth yelled, fingers curving round the butt of her pistol.

The brunette flexed her fingers as if readying herself for a good catfight. “You heard me, cabin boy.”

The blonde rounded behind Elizabeth, the pair closing in on her predators, but Barbossa stepped between them all, took a hold of Elizabeth under an elbow, and then put a hand to the hilt of his cutlass, eyeing the ladies steadily. “I don’t want any trouble, m’dears,” he said to all three, eyeing them each in turn.

The two wenches glared at Elizabeth once more before turning their eyes upon the Captain. His fierce eyes told them he was being deadly serious and they knew that, with hand upon his sword, he was not a man to mess with. They backed down.

“It’s your loss, handsome,” the brunette grumbled, brushing up against him as much as she dared as she slid past him and left.

“We’ll still be here if you change yer mind,” the blonde added. “When you want to remember what a real woman feels like.”

Barbossa watched them both disappear then rolled his eyes and pushed Elizabeth on ahead. “On with ye,” he said, marching after her. “We’re nearly there.”

Elizabeth straightened her clothes out with more ferocity than was necessary and kicked up a pile of mud in anger. “I could have taken those tarts!” she snarled.

“I’ve no doubt,” Barbossa rallied. “But it’ll do ye no good to be harming the locals, yer Highness. This is their territory and ye be signing nuthin’ but your own death warrant if ye touch any o’ them.”

“You heard what they called me! I don’t have to take that kind of talk from any one! I’m a pirate lord, I’m –”

“Clam up,” he snapped shortly. “They make their living off o’ men, and they’ll attack anyone they think might be takin’ some business off their hands. They’re survivors, just like you and me.”

“Well they needn’t worry about me taking away their ‘business’,” she sighed, her fists clenching and anger fizzling within her like a lit fuse, burning through her veins. She was suddenly filled with a feeling of restlessness and, for some reason, inadequacy, and it did not sit well with her.

“Just because I choose not to flaunt myself in public…” she mumbled on.

Barbossa rolled his eyes again before he realised they were near their destination and he quickly stepped up to Elizabeth’s side, put and arm round her, and turned her into the next doorway.

“Let it go, Mrs Turner. They were cheap shots, don't take 'em personally. We have more import'nt business to discuss.” And with a burst of cheekiness, he added, “Ye be married anyway.”

He didn’t look to see her face.

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

The seeds of uncertainty are sown in the most unlikely of places. Elizabeth was unhinged by how easily the wenches had hit a weak spot in her person, making her suddenly very self-conscious. But why did it bother her? She had never cared before that she was not as comely as other women – in fact it had often played to her advantage to be otherwise. Perhaps what had truly unhinged her was how attractive the wenches had appeared to find Barbossa. Even if they were simply coating their words in honey to get his business, it cut her deep to feel so suddenly alone – even an older pirate was not short of company, but she… she had no choice but to isolate herself, for she was, as Barbossa had reminded her, a married woman. The man she loved was out at sea, cursed to serve for an eternity aboard the Flying Dutchman, like Davy Jones before him, and was allowed but one day in a decade to come ashore and see “she who loved him”.

Sometimes love is just not enough.

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

The ramshackle building into which Barbossa led Elizabeth was leaning over on its rotting timber frames, as if it were as drunk on the foul Tortuga air as the town’s many denizens. Inside it was a dark and gloomy place, and had it not been for the man in the corner, sat alone with a bottle of rum at one of the many tables (each of which was nothing more than an upturned barrel), Elizabeth would not have thought this to be a public house.

Barbossa strode over the straw-covered floor with the utmost care, as if he were expecting, at any moment, for an ambush might be sprung on him. His eyes searched the dark and empty interior, studying any gaps in the walls and any doors left ajar, his eyes lingering in particular on the lonely stranger on the far side of the room, but he was ultimately satisfied that he and his companion were safe (at least for the time being), and took a seat at a table right in the centre of the room. He opened his hand to the stool on the opposite side of the table and Elizabeth, giving it a brief derogatory look, then seated herself before him.

A man in a soiled apron materialised all of a sudden from a backroom, and ambled across to the pair. Elizabeth felt a little uncomfortable toward him; he was middle aged with greying hair, but it was his eyes, a pair of tiny but piecing black orbs, which really unsettled her. She almost felt that he had the ability to peer straight into one’s soul.

Barbossa nodded his head at the man before asking for a couple of mugs of beer and flicked a few coins his way.

Elizabeth edged backwards as the man’s hand hit the table, gathered up the coins in a slow, slithering movement, before he pocketed the money and disappeared into the back another time.

Barbossa read Elizabeth’s frown before she even realised she had turned to stare after the man, and he said, “Ye’ve no need to fear ol’ Frank. He’s a trustworthy soul.”

Elizabeth looked unconvinced. “Just like you?” she retorted, which made the Captain laugh.

There was a snort from the man in the far corner, which made Elizabeth turn to cast a glance at him, but he appeared not to even have moved. Even more confused than ever, she returned her sights to Barbossa, who leant over the table and said, “Right, let us talk Jack Sparrow.”

“Why’s it your business?”

“Because he has something I need. That’s why.”

Elizabeth smiled, lacing her fingers together and leaning her chin atop of them. “Ah, so we’re back to bartering information?”

“Bartering?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what might we be bartering.”

There was a slosh of liquid as Frank slammed two pitchers of beer onto the table, then left again into the backroom. Barbossa waited until he was gone, and looked Elizabeth hard in the face. “Well?”

Elizabeth picked up the mug and sniffed at the contents, wrinkling her nose at it. “What’s this? Smells like a latrine.”

“So what if it is? I bought it fer yer so ye drink it.”

“But it might be poisoned,” she rallied jokingly.

“Oh, there’d be no point in killing ye, Mrs Turner. Nawt yet.”

She threw him a sultry smirk. They were treading again on old boards and it was, for some reason, comforting. She took a sip of the beer, found it to taste a lot more pleasant than she had anticipated, and then said, “Rumour has it you plan to find the fabled Aqua de Vida. Is it true?”

Barbossa took a long draft if his drink before he said, “Aye. And whose loose tongue divulged that to ye?”

“Oh, just someone, somewhere.” Her eyes sparkled at him and Barbossa knew she’d be giving no more than that away. She had certainly learnt well.

“News travels fast, Captain,” she continued, teasingly, “particularly when Jack Sparrow is at the head of the trail.”

Barbossa sat back and regarded her carefully. She didn’t look like much, it was true, but the greatest danger always lay with those which were easy to underestimate. Elizabeth had the advantages of not only appearing quite plain, but also of being a woman in a man’s world, and she used these cards against her foes with great skill and zest. He recalled that his initial relationship with Elizabeth had revolved around the pair of them constantly underestimating one another. After Calypso had brought him back to life he had been faced with the task of working alongside Elizabeth Swann again and it seemed that neither he nor the young woman had wanted to make the same mistakes with each other that they had the first time; and so a form of mutual trust had been formed between them, an unsaid promise that neither of them underestimate the other. In truth, they were equals, and any conflict between them would quickly degenerate into a vicious circle of trickery and deceit. At least when they were a team, their resources were pooled and their energies well spent, which in turn produced results. There was no doubt that, had either one of them not been present at their last battle against the East India Trading Company, the enterprise would not have been a success. A remarkable thought if ever there was one.

Barbossa smiled fondly at this memory before he said, “What interest is the Fountain of Youth to ye?”

“Does it matter?”

His brow rose. “I guess nawt. But ye be a pirate lord and pirate king these days. Why don’t ye go off with your own men to find the treasure, if that be all that interests ye?”

“Because I don’t know how to get there.”

Barbossa’s eyes lit up. Then there was still plenty left to barter for. “I see. Well, fortunately, I do – or at least I will do whenever we get Jack back.”

“So he has the location?” she inferred.

Barbossa nodded. “Aye.”

She leaned over the table toward him, lowering her voice to a whisper as she said, fixing him with a dark stare, “I do hope this isn’t another island which you can only find if you know where it is?”

Barbossa shook his head and chortled. “Nay, it’s not. I’d hold no hope of extracting the information from Jack if it were, either. If he’s got any sense, he won’t likely trust me with such information again.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth concurred, taking another sip of her beer. “So Jack has the directions?”

“Aye.”

“On a map…?”

“As is customary.”

“Why does he need the map? Doesn’t his compass work for this?”

“Oh, aye, I’m sure it works fine if he can set his mind to it. But if he has the map, then I don’t. That’s the point.”

Elizabeth laughed – typical men, in constant competition with one another!

“And what makes you think Jack hasn’t gone off to find it on his own?”

“I’m nawt saying he hasn’t, but unless he’s commandeered another ship and got himself another crew, I find it unlikely. Besides, he loves the Pearl too much. He’ll want her back sooner or later.”

Elizabeth’s lips slid up into a smug smile. “Well fortunately for you, he hasn’t got himself a ship or a crew.”

Barbossa laughed, expecting as much. “Didn’t think so. So, where be he now?”

“Locked up.”

Barbossa groaned. “Locked up? Ye mean we’ve got to spring him from gaol?”

Elizabeth held his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time, now, would it?”

“Not fer some,” he replied. “And what’s he gone down fer now, might I ask?”

“Oh I don’t know. You could fill a book with the crimes that man’s committed. They probably took a pin and stuck it randomly onto a list and charged him for it.”

Barbossa took a couple of swallows of his drink then slammed the pitcher down with a slosh. “It’s bloody careless of him… especially after everything that’s happened!”

Elizabeth didn’t seem so irritated. “He’s Jack Sparrow. You expected anything less?”

Barbossa eyed her sharply. “I expected never to have ta see his sorry carcass again. Why is it that I always end up running after him, or him after me?”

Elizabeth made a mocking shrug. “Maybe it’s destiny, Captain. Or a curse.”

Barbossa scoffed. “Don’t dishearten me.” He then looked over her countenance carefully and said, “So what is it ye be wanting in return fer this generous sharing o’ information?”

Elizabeth sat back, smugness written across her features. “I want a part of the prize.”

Barbossa blink then choked out a laugh of disbelief. “Ye want some of the fountain of youth? You’re still but a girl yeself!”

That didn’t impress her in the slightest. “Am I? Well, this girl might be able to sell her information elsewhere.” She got to her feet, ready to leave, and was surprised at first when Barbossa didn’t rise to stop her; he wasn’t as easily swayed as the others.

“Ye may walk out that door, missy, but ye ain’t got a clue where ye be going.”

Elizabeth’s expression faded to slight panic. He was right. Perhaps this was also why he had chosen to bring her on the most winding, confusing of routes to this secretive little place. And she knew that more than mere wenches might be waiting in the dark and narrow backstreets of this seedy underworld. She could handle a sword; she could look after herself; but she was one woman lost in a dark underworld, it perhaps wouldn't be wise to go out there alone.

“You bastard,” she murmured, throwing herself back onto her stool with a definitive thud.

“Takes one ta know one,” he countered before flashing her a toothy grin. “So, let’s be straight with one another. You get part of the plunder in return for divulging Jack Sparrow’s locale. Agreed?”

“I want passage aboard your ship, too.”

He looked confused by this request. “Why, in God’s name?”

“Because I don’t trust you, that’s why.”

There were words as yet unsaid, and as Barbossa lounged back and looked hard into Elizabeth’s suddenly reticent eyes, he thought that he understood what else this might be.

“And ye’re bored, aren’t ye?”

She pulled that face which denied all accusations set against her. “I am not!” she said.

Barbossa’s smile was full of confidence, though, for he knew he was right this time. “Oh ye are, I can see it. Not enough going on fer ye back at Shipwreck Island?”

“Enough, thank you. The East India Trading Company are on to us, you know. They keep sniffing around like hounds on a scent and –”

“And yer men can go out and deal with them, no problem, right? Sao Feng left you a good group o’ pirates, did he nawt?”

“Yes but we still have to keep them away from the cove, and –”

He interrupted again. “Oh that battle will never end. It’s always been there – the authorities versus the pirates. Ye know that ye can fight all ye like, but we’ll never win. We’ll kill one Cutler Beckett and another one will rise up. Can’t be helped. And you know ye can’t waste yer life constantly fighting them, or else ye wouldn’t be here now, would ye?”

Elizabeth scowled at him and folded her arms. “You’d be the same if you were pirate king.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he rallied, and chuckled into his beer as he watched her puzzled face, trying to comprehend what was going through his mind.

Since she had lost a foothold in this situation, she sought to change the subject. “So, are you a regular here…?” she asked.

Barbossa was puzzled this time. “Here? What do ye mean by ‘here’?”

She inclined her head towards the door. “Tortuga. The wenches. You seem an old hand.”

“Ah…” he nodded, comprehension dawning. “Well, once upon a time, p’rhaps I was more of a ‘regular’, but that all stopped with the cursed gold. There be no point in paying a woman to pleasure ye if ye can feel none of it.”

Barbossa monitored Elizabeth’s face, wondering if she might blush at such bluntness, but she did not. That impressed him. She was more hardened than that whelp she called husband.

“To be frank, Mrs Turner,” he continued light-heartedly, “ye perhaps be more experienced than I in those kind o’ things now.”

She giggled over her beaker at him, which brought a smile to his face. She could be pleasant enough company, if nothing else.

“What makes you say that, Captain?”

He ran a finger round the rim of his mug, looking down into the near empty pitcher before reconnecting his gaze with hers and saying, “I’ve nawt touched a woman since before I was resurrected, therefore I see meself as being a virgin all o’er again.” He raised his mug in her direction before taking a swig. “You might have ta teach me a thing or two now.”

Elizabeth seemed sceptical. “Are you sure? You and Tia Dalma seemed mighty close on occasion.”

“Trifles. One can but have affection fer she who raised one from the dead. We played around but nuthin’ happened. It be too dangerous for a man to get entangled in her web. Not worth sharing a bed with her, I tell ye now.”

Elizabeth laughed another time and shook her head. “Very well, I shall do my best to believe you. But I still count myself as rather inexperienced in the matter, so you had better go back to your whores and ask them to remind you how it’s done.”

He finished off his drink, put down the empty mug, and rose to his feet. “Now I can’t be doing that, Mrs Turner.”

She cocked a brow in jest. “Why ever not? Isn’t it what you always used to do?”

“It is, but well, but fer one, I’m loathe to part with me money, and two, I think I can do a bit better for meself now.” He threw her a wink and turned to go. “Are ye coming or will ye be finding your own way back?”

Elizabeth finished off her beer in one hearty swallow and then got up to follow. “I’m coming. I don’t fancy been left lost in the alleyways with all those tarts about.”

Barbossa’s lips parted in another grin. “Aye. Would be a fine way for Mrs Turner to go, that. At the hands of Tortuga’s women of negotiable affection.”

They turned as one to go, weaving in between the haphazard array of tables and stools, before suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, the man in the corner shot to his feet and proclaimed at the top of his voice. “Genesis! Genesis! Genesis!”

Elizabeth and Barbossa turned, brows creased as the man continued to repeat the word over and over. They then watched as Frank the bartender came out of the back room with an oar slung over his shoulder, which he promptly swung into the lunatic’s face.

There was a heavy ‘thunk’ before the man crumpled into a pile over his table, sending his bottle of rum rolling onto the floor.

Frank turned to the departing duo. “’m sorry, guvnor. He raves, this one.”

Barbossa looked again at Elizabeth then shrugged. “T’wasn’t raving at us. T’is no problem.”

They then began to leave, but heard Frank mumble as they went, “Don’t be so sure.”

TBC…

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc3 #potc fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #barbossabeth #captain barbossa #elizabeth swann #geoffrey rush #keira knightley

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

Text

SPN- No Exit (2.06)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: Ellen forces Jo to hand a new case over to the Winchesters, Dean has to protect yet another person, the siblings find out bad news, and Olive stands up for her boys

Warnings: cursing, a serial killer, blood, ghosts and stuff

Word Count: 5241

“Los Angeles, California.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“What’s in L.A.?” I asked, following him out of the car.

“Young girl’s been kidnapped by an evil cult.”

“Yeah?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Girl got a name?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned. “Katie Holmes.”

Sam snorted as Dean giggled. “That’s funny. And for you, so bitchy.”

The sound of breaking glass and shouts came from inside the Roadhouse. I flinched and shuffled closer to Dean. Sam scooped Jinx out of the car.

“On the other hand…” He shrugged. “Catfight.”

“Hell no, that’s scary! Let’s just go. We can come back later.” I begged, tugging at Dean’s sleeve.

“Nope. Come on.” Dean dragged me toward the door.

“Sams?” I looked over my shoulder as I was helplessly pulled along.

He shrugged.

“I am your mother, I don’t have to be reasonable!” Ellen shouted as we slowly walked in.

“You can’t keep me here!” Jo yelled.

“Oh, don’t you bet on that, sweetie.”

“What are you gonna do, ma? Chain me up in the basement?”

“You know what, you’ve had worse ideas than that recently! Hey, you don’t wanna stay, don’t stay. Go back to school.” Ellen snarled.

The three of us cringed. Hearing that was worse than hearing nails on a chalkboard.

“I didn’t belong there!” Jo screamed. “I was a freak with a knife collection!”

“Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that’s where you belong?” Ellen turned and saw the three of us.

Jinx whined, I froze like a deer in headlights, Dean squared his shoulders and avoided eye contact, and Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“Kids, bad time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, we barely drink before ten anyways.”

“Wait.” Jo snapped. “I wanna know what they think about this.”

A couple walked through the door with their two kids, who were still little toddlers. They were obviously tourists, and they looked between Jo and Ellen with wide eyes.

“I don’t care what they think!”

“Are you guys open?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

The dad backed away. “We’ll just… check out the Arby’s down the road.”

The family left quickly, and the phone went off. Jo glared at it, and Ellen stalked over to answer. She snatched the phone up with a scowl. We sat down at the bar with heavy sighs from each.

“Harvelle’s. Yeah, Preacher.”

Jo shoved a manilla folder Dean’s way, and he backed up in his seat. “Three weeks ago a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.”

Dean only looked at the folder with wide eyes.

“Take it, it won’t bite.”

“No, but your mom might.” Dean whispered.

I took the folder from her and opened it up. “What else ya got, Jo?”

“This girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or…”

“Who put this together?” Dean looked over my shoulder. “Ash?”

“I did it myself.” Jo snapped.

I hummed. “Nice.”

“I mean, we have hit the road for a lot less.”

“Good.” Ellen hissed. “You like the case so much, you take it!”

“Mom!” Jo whined.

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough! I won’t lose you too… I just won’t.”

***

“I feel kind of bad…” Sam sighed. “Snaking Jo’s case.”

“Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here actually working a case?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam and I shrugged. Jinx tugged at the leash, and I pulled back. She wanted Dean, but Dean didn’t wanna hold the leash.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Sam and Dean pulled out EMF readers and I looked high and low, my new glasses on.

“You getting anything?”

“No. Not yet.” Sam shook his head.

“Ol?”

“Nothing.”

Sam ran his EMF over a light switch, and it went off. He leaned over and squinted, looking disgusted.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Dean and I crowded him.

Sam touched a black goo oozing from the switch, and I groaned. He huffed. Jinx jumped at our feet, snorting and sniffing. I touched the goo and groaned. I put my fingers down to let Jinx smell it. She pulled away with a loud whine. She dropped onto her stomach and ran her paws over her face.

“Holy crap.”

Dean reached over my head and touched it, rubbing his fingers together.

“That’s ectoplasm. Guys, I think I know what we’re dealing with here.” Dean got serious, then turned to us with a grin. “It’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

Sam rolled his eyes and I giggled.

“Dean, I’ve only seen this stuff like… twice. I mean, to make this shit, you’ve gotta be one majorly pissed off spirit.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, let’s find this badass before he snags any more girls.”

***

We rounded the corner and continued down the hallway. We heard two voices, and Dean reacted quickest, pulling us both to hide in a corner. Sam snatched Jinx off the floor and held her against his chest. She had gotten big, and Sam was the only one who could carry her without much of a struggle.

“It is so spacious! You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.”

I tilted my head and looked at Dean. He looked angry.

That’s Jo.

I nodded.

Definitely.

Dean stepped out first, catching them as they turned the corner.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed in a low voice.

“There you are, honey.” Jo didn’t skip a beat, and she settled into Dean’s side with an arm around his waist.

Sam and I stood back, a bit confused. Jinx let out a whine as Sam put her down.

“This is my boyfriend Dean, his little sister Olive, and their buddy, Sam. This is our doggy! I’m so glad this place is pet friendly.” She grinned.

“Good to meet ya. Quite a gal you’ve got here.”

Dean slapped her ass and I cringed. I couldn’t exactly duck into Sam’s side, since I wasn’t his sister.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean smiled. “She’s a pistol.”

Sam flinched, and I stifled a snort. He was beyond pissed, the irritation dancing over his face was proof enough.

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent?” Jo smiled at me over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Yes, loved it.” Dean hummed.

“It’s got great flow.” I added.

“How’d you get in?” The landlord squinted at us.

“Oh, it was open.”

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?”

“Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent.” He sighed.

“Well. Her loss, our gain! Cause if Deano loves it, it’s good enough for me!”

Sam and I shared a look, and Dean slapped Jo’s ass again. I shuddered. I caught the minuscule anger flashing behind his expression, but it was still gross to watch. I felt like I was gonna puke. Sam gave me a sympathetic smile.

Jo pulled out a wad of cash. “We’ll take it.”

***

“I’ll flip you for the sofa.” Jo turned to Dean as he finished cleaning his gun.

“Does your mother even know you’re here?” Dean spat back.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.” Jo grabbed the folder off the table.

Sam was sitting at the end, cleaning his shotgun. Dean was sitting on the table, his back to Jo. I was sitting on the table, opposite of Sam. I had my legs crossed and my new gun in my lap.

“You think she’s gonna buy that?”

“I’m not an idiot.” Jo spat. “I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.”

Sam and I shared a look over Dean’s shoulder.

“You know, you shouldn’t lie to your mom.” Dean chastised. “Shouldn’t be here either.”

Jo looked to Sam, expecting support. Sam met her eyes and said nothing as he continued to work on his shotgun. She huffed and turned to me. I shrugged, holding the gun in my hands and slowly flipping it over and over.

“Well, I am.” She snapped. “So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where’d you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam spoke.

“Working at the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip well.” I got the courage to speak, too.

“Well, they aren’t that good at poker, either.” She smiled.

Dean’s phone went off and he climbed off the table so he could fish it out of his pocket. He flipped it open and put it up to his ear.

“Yeah?”

His face drained of color and he looked straight up at Jo. Jinx let out a howl, sensing his panic.

“Oh, hi, Ellen.” He walked around to my end of the table, lips curled up.

Jo went right at him as he held the phone to his shoulder. “I’m telling her.”

Jo hissed something back, and he looked ready to jump. Sam shot up, and I put the gun aside and swung my legs over the edge of the table, facing Dean and Jo.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Jo glared.

Dean put the phone back to his ear. “I haven’t seen her. Yeah, I-I’m sure.” A beat. “Absolutely.”

Jo shot Dean a cute little smile as he shut the phone, and he had murder in his eyes as he stared her down. Sam glanced over at me, and I shrugged.

***

“This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted to apartments a few months ago.” Jo had the blueprints open in front of her, and she was flipping a pocket knife around.

“Yeah? What was here before 1924?” Dean was pacing.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Empty field.”

“So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he’s back and raising hell.” Sam didn’t look up from his own papers.

“I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths.” She shrugged. “Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor.” She turned and glared at Dean. “Would you sit down, please?”

Dean pulled out the chair next to me and sat on it, backwards. “So, have you checked police reports, county death records-”

“Obituaries, mortuary reports, and seven other sources. I know what I’m doing.”

I frowned.

Seven other sources? Where’d she get those?

“I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

Sam bit back a smile and I had to scratch my nose to hold myself together.

“Could you put the knife down?”

She did as he asked, and the tension, along with the bickering, was becoming unbearable.

“Okay!” Sam cleared his throat. “So, uh, it’s something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.”

“Well, we’ve gotta scan the whole building then. Everywhere we can get to, right?” Jo looked between the three of us.

“Right. So. You and me, we’ll take the top two floors. Sam, get the first, Olive take the second.” Dean stood.

Sam and I nodded, and Jo scoffed.

“We’d move faster if we split up.” She got up and got in Dean’s face.

“Oh, this isn’t negotiable.” Dean had an irritated smile on his face.

“You know, I’ve had it up to here with your crap.” Jo spat.

I looked down at the floor, then up at Sam.

What do we do?

He gave me a small shrug.

I don’t know.

“Excuse me?”

“Your chauvinist crap. You think women can’t do the job!” She accused.

A snort escaped my nose, and she side-eyed me. Sam scratched his cheek, looking away. Dean gave his annoyed smile again.

“Sweetheart, this ain’t gender studies.” He shook his head. “Women can do the job fine.” He looked my way and shrugged. “Hell, I trust Olive with my life. She can do the job, I know she can. But amateurs can’t. You have no experience.”

She rolled her eyes, and I cleared my throat. I got up and pulled an EMF meter from the duffel on the table and called Jinx over.

“I’ll take her.”

Dean nodded, and I pressed a quick kiss to the side of Sam’s head.

“See you guys soon.”

***

The door busted open, and I rolled over, now fully awake. Jinx barked, and I realized she was curled up next to me. Dean had taken the couch, and I had fallen asleep on the floor, leaning next to him. Sam must’ve moved me to the bed.

“Where’s the coffee?” Dean grumbled.

“There are cops outside.” Sam’s voice rang out, and his panic was clear.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What?”

“Another girl disappeared.”

“Shit.” Jo hissed.

“Alright, let’s move.” Dean clapped his hands.

“Wait, I’m not dressed.” I complained.

“You’re staying.”

“What? Why?” I stumbled out of the bed, socks sliding on the clean floor.

Dean caught me by the elbows and steadied me. “Get dressed. Take Jinx for a walk. Go get some coffee.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed me a twenty. “Be safe, okay? Love you.”

I blinked, trying to get my eyes clear. “Love you too.”

He kissed my head and gathered his things. Sam pressed a kiss to my forehead, and Jo gave me a soft smile.

“Be careful, guys!” I called as they walked out the door.

***

Sam and Jo were looking over the notes, and I was digging into the history of this part of Philadelphia, which was proving more work than I had anticipated. Dean slid back into the room and shut the door behind himself. Jinx jumped up and ran to greet him.

“Teresa Ellis. Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.” He spoke as he bent down to pet Jinx.

“What about her apartment?” Jo looked up.

“Cracks all over the plaster, wall, ceiling. Ectoplasm, too.”

“Well, between that and the hair you guys found in the vent, I’d say this fucker’s coming from the walls.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, but who is it?” Dean began to pace. “Building’s history is totally clean.”

I huffed as I stumbled upon something. “We’re looking in the wrong place.”

The three of them turned to squint at me.

“What?”

“We’re next door to a prison. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down about forty years ago. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field.”

“Which is where this building was built.” Jo put it together.

I nodded. “Well, then, we’ll need a list. All the people executed here.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up.” I turned my focus back to the laptop.

“I’ll call Ash, see what he can get.”

***

“A hundred and fifty seven names?” Sam groaned as we scrolled down the list.

“We’ve gotta narrow this down, or we’ll be digging up graves for the next month.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed.

Sam noticed something on the list and tapped my hand. I stopped scrolling and looked up at him.

“What is it, Sams?”

“Herman Webster Mudgett…” He clicked on the name with a frown.

“Yeah?” Jo asked.

“Oh, shit…”

“Wasn’t that H.H. Holmes’s real name?”

“You’ve gotta be fucking me.” Dean came and sat next to us, eyes on the screen.

“Oh my god.” I breathed out as I pulled up a search on him. “He was executed at Moyamensing. May seventh, 1896.”

“H. H. Holmes himself…” Sam sighed. “Come on, I mean… what are the odds?”

“Wait, who is this guy?” Jo’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“The term multi-murderer.” Dean sighed. “They coined it to describe Holmes.”

“He was America’s first serial killer. Before anybody even knew what a serial killer was.”

“Yeah. He confessed to twenty seven murders. They could only confirm nine, some of the people he claimed to have killed were still alive, and the police put the death toll at over two hundred.”

“Oh, and his victim flavor of choice? Pretty petite blondes.” Dean grunted. “He used chloroform to kill em.” He squinted as he began to think. “Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. At his place, police found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair.”

“Well, Jo.” I hummed. “You sure know how to pick em.”

“We just find the bones, salt them, and burn them. Right?”

I shook my head as I scrolled through the article. “Not that easy. His body is buried across town, but it’s encased in a couple tons of concrete.”

“What? Why?”

“Story goes that he didn’t want anybody mutilating his corpse. Cause… ya know… that’s what he used to do.”

“Guys, we might have an even bigger problem.” Sam noted.

“How does this get bigger?”

“Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. He called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. Trap doors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built secret chambers inside the walls. He’d lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some would suffocate, others would starve to death.”

“Fuck. That means Teresa could be alive.”

Dean sat up straight. “Alright, we need sledgehammers, crowbars. We’ve gotta smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl.”

“Okay. How are we doing this?”

“Jo and I will take the top two floors. Olive, I want you with Sam. You two check the bottom floors.”

I sighed. “It’ll be faster if we split up like we did last time. I’m not blonde, chances are he won’t come after me.”

Dean shook his head. “Not taking any chances.” He turned and shared a look with Sam.

Neither said a word, but I knew what was going on.

We protect them, no matter what.

Sam gave the slightly nod.

Of course.

***

“Okay. Call us after you finish checking out the southeast wall.”

“Will do, Jo. Be careful.” I hung the phone up and turned to Sam with a heavy sigh. “They haven’t found shit either.”

He sighed and swept the EMF meter over my head. “What if we’re wrong? What if he doesn’t hide his victims in the walls?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, Sams. We’ve only got a little left. If nobody finds anything, we’ll reassess.”

He nodded. “Alright. Come on.”

***

I heard the sound of hurried footsteps before I saw anything, and I squared my shoulders, ready to take somebody on. Dean rounded the corner and slammed into my shoulder, sending me stumbling backward into Sam.

“Hey!”

“De?”

He turned back to us, face pale. “He’s got Jo.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t with her.” Dean began to panic. “I left her alone. Damn it!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam tried to calm him. “We’ll find her, alright?”

“Where?” Dean growled.

“Inside the walls, Dean.”

“We’ve been inside the walls all night! None of the other girls were there, she won’t be either!”

“Okay. Come on.” I grabbed his hand and began to tug him toward the stairs.

“What are you doing, Olive? We’ve gotta-”

“Right now, we’ve gotta calm down and reassess the whole situation. Maybe we got something wrong, maybe we missed something. Either way, we won’t find Jo right now, not like this. We need to calm down first. Okay? Let’s go.”

***

“Maybe we got Holmes’ MO wrong.” Sam spoke calmly. “We just have to take a beat and think about this.”

Dean was pacing. “Yeah, well, we’d better think fucking fast.”

I sighed. Dean was totally freaked, because he thought this was his fault. No matter how this ended, he was going to blame himself. His phone rang, and he flipped it open.

“Yeah.”

He stopped cold and looked ready to burst into tears. I squinted at him. He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the table.

“You lied to me. She’s there.”

“Ellen-” Dean tried.

“No! Ash told me everything. Man’s a genius, but he folds like a cheap suit. Now you put my damn daughter on the phone.”

“She’s gonna have to call you back, she uh… she’s taking care of some lady business.” Dean gritted his teeth.

“Yeah, right. Where is she?”

The three of us stared at each other, each calculating.

“Where is she!”

“Look, we’ll get her back.” Dean blurted.

Sam and I glared with wide eyes, shocked.

“Get her back? Back from what?”

“Ellen, the spirit we’re hunting, it took her.” He explained.

“Oh my god.”

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” Dean spoke, and it was more than a promise.

This was an oath. He was swearing right now.

“You promise.” She growled. “That is not the first time I’ve heard that from a Winchester.”

“What?” I spoke up, now confused, and angry with her accusatory tone.

Sam knocked my arm and shook his head. I sighed and he nodded me over, pushing his laptop my way. I squinted at the blueprints of the murder castle and sighed.

“If anything happens to her…”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. Ellen, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I’m taking the first flight out. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

The line cut off, and Dean let out a small string of curses. He turned to us with gleaming eyes.

“Hey.” I caught his attention. “This isn’t on you.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, don’t beat yourself up.” Sam spoke softly.

“Please tell me you’ve got something.”

“Look, you look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there’s all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?”

“Right.”

“But there’s one we haven’t considered yet. The basement.”

What Sam had shown me now clicked.

“This place doesn’t have a basement.”

“No, but there’s an old sewer system that looks like it hasn’t been touched-”

“Let’s go.” Dean cut me off and picked up his car keys.

***

Sam swept a metal detector over the street as we walked. Dean had the shovel in his hand, and I had the backpack with our weapons on. Jinx tugged on her leash. If we died down there, she was safer above ground than in a haunted apartment. Sam caught something and looked, beckoning for us to follow. I hooked a finger on Dean’s belt loop as we followed the trail through an alley, and into an empty field. Sam stopped, and the metal detector let out a steady squeal.

“Here.”

Dean went to work, digging faster than I had ever seen. I shared a look with Sam. It took Dean four minutes before he hit metal and dropped to his knees. Sam dug with his good hand, and I went at it with both, feeling dirt crunch its way under my fingernails.

“Come help, girl.” Dean whistled.

Jinx made her way next to Sam and went wild, dirt flying behind her.

“Alright, here.” Dean stopped us and pushed at Jinx once we hit a metal trap door.

I dug through the backpack and handed Sam a shotgun first. He cocked it, and I handed another one to Dean. Sam looked around, making sure there was nobody watching. Dean tied Jinx’s leash to the bar of the door and patted her head. Sam planted a kiss on Jinx’s head before heading down.

“We’ll be back, girl.” I whispered as I fished out the last shotgun.

She whined, and I checked the flashlight before following after the boys.

***

I heard Jo, clear as day, trying to scream. I pushed Sam’s foot, and he grunted, getting the message. Dean reached the clearing first and got to his feet, followed by Sam.

“Hey!”

Dean’s voice, and then a gunshot. Another girl screamed.

“Jo!”

“I’m here!”

Dean looked around, scrambling to find something. I spotted a bar of rebar and snatched it up. My teeth cracked in my jaw, and I groaned as I pushed Dean aside. I wedged the bar into the opening of Jo’s compartment with a deep breath.

“Ol-”

“Go help Sam.”

“Are-”

“Go help Sam.” I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

The boys became background noise, and a low growl resonated in my throat. I balanced myself before turning and gripping the bar. I pulled as hard and fast as I could, and another growl ripped its way past my mouth. Jo squealed as the door popped off.

“Boys!” I shouted, getting their attention so I could hand the bar off.

I helped Jo scramble to her feet with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, are you alright?”

“Been better.” She eyed my fangs, but said nothing about them. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back.”

“Actually, I uh…” Dean turned with a huff as Sam helped Teresa get free. “I don’t think you’re leaving here just yet.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes went wide.

“Remember when we said you being bait was a stupid plan?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck. “Well, right now it’s kinda the only one we’ve got.”

The three of us turned to Sam. He had Teresa in a hug. She was shaking. He gave a pout and a bitchface, and I sighed. Dean shrugged.

Jo sighed. “Fine.”

***

Jo sat in the middle of the chamber. She was silent, but she was trembling. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, but was taking deep and steady breaths. I didn’t see Holmes until he materialized behind her. I made a mental note to not rely on these glasses.

Holmes got closer, and closer, until he was standing right behind her.

“Now!” Dean shouted.

I lunged forward to tug Jo to safety as Sam and Dean shot at the walls. Bags of salt unfurled, trapping Holmes in a perfect circle. Jo shook in my arms as Holmes began to pace, screaming in terror and mumbling gibberish.

“Scream all you want, you dick! There’s no way you’re stepping over that salt!” Jo turned and howled.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go, we’ve gotta get Teresa out of here.” Sam whispered, guiding us out.

***

I sat in the grass and scratched Jinx’s chest. She was sitting between me and Sam. He was standing with Jo at the entrance of the sewer, looking down into the darkness.

“So. This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam teased.

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. But the girl’s gonna live a life because of us. It’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” Sam and I agreed. “It is.”

“Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there? Or a storm washes the salt away?” Jo pointed out.

Sam grinned. “Both very fine points. Which is why we’re waiting here.”

“For what?”

The beeping of a truck backing up went off, and Sam broke into a smile. I got to my feet and slid into his side as we watched a cement mixer back into the field. Jinx barked, and I handed her off to Sam as I guided Dean.

“For that.”

I beckoned with my hand, and then made a fist. He stopped right over the sewer entrance. Dean hopped out of the cab with a proud smile on his face. He and Sam set up the mixer right over the entrance.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo was astonished.

“We’ll give it back.” I grinned as the cement began to pour.

Dean threw an arm over my shoulders and sighed. “Well, that oughta keep him down there til hell freezes over.”

***

I shifted, uncomfortable. Jinx was sprawled over my lap and Sam’s. Her haunches were pressing on my bladder, and I felt like I was gonna pee myself. Dean was in the driver’s seat, and Ellen was next to him, in the passenger seat. Jo was to my left, behind Dean, and Sam was on my other side, behind Ellen. She was staring straight ahead, jaw set. Dean kept glancing her way, looking horrified.

“Boy, you… you really weren’t kidding about flying out, were you?” He chuckled nervously.

She said absolutely nothing, and Dean glanced at me in the rearview. I looked up at Sam, who was also uncomfortable.

“How about we listen to some music?” Dean tried, and flicked the radio on.

Before the first string of lyrics could come on, Ellen turned it back off. Sam and I looked at each other again, and Dean did the same, begging for help. I shrugged, and he sighed.

“This is gonna be a long drive.”

***

Ellen had Jo by the shoulder, and the three of us scrambled to follow.

“Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I’m sorry. But Jo did good out there, I think her dad would be really proud.”

Ellen turned around with a snarl, and the three of us skidded to a stop.

“Don’t you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone.” She snapped.

I gulped as Sam and Dean exchanged a look over my head. Sam pulled me along as they trailed out of the Roadhouse. We leaned against the car and said nothing. We couldn’t hear them fighting, but we knew it was going to be bad. There was a strangled cry, and the four of us, including Jinx, perked up. Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse, shot Dean a glare, and kept walking.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not right now.” Jo snapped.

“What happened?” Dean tried. “Hey, talk to me.” He reached for her arm.

“Get off me!”

He backed up. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.” He turned back to us with a confused look on his face.

“Dean!” Jo called. “It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone… this guy did too, but… I guess my dad trusted him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

“What does this have to do-’

“It was your father, Dean.” Jo hissed.

“What?”

I felt my heart drop, and Sam gasped.

“John got my dad killed.”

Dean talked again, but I couldn’t hear it. I squirmed away from Sam and stormed into the building. I ignored him as he called after me. I slammed a hand down on the bar and leaned forward, catching Ellen’s attention.

“Look.” I started, tears already forming in my eyes, throat aching. “I am so sorry that my father cost your husband his life. I really am. John was everything I never want to be. But my brothers?”

The tears became too many, and they began to stream down my cheeks.

“My brothers are a completely different story. Those boys are nothing like John. Those boys would do anything for anybody. The second time the three of us hunted together, Sam put himself between a wendigo and three innocent people, even though he knew it would only buy them seconds. Dean ran through the tunnels…” My voice broke. “Defenseless. Just to get them out alive.If saving Jo meant putting their own lives down, they would do it. Without hesitation. So I’m really sorry about what my father did. But don’t you ever think, not even for a second, that my boys wouldn’t die to save someone else.”

Ellen blinked, staring at me. I sniffled, wiped my tears, and backed up.

“That’s all I needed you to hear.”

I stumbled out of the building. Sam and Dean were on the porch. Jo was nowhere to be seen. I fell into the boys, shaking. Neither said anything as they held me.

“Let’s go home.”

Previous Ep: Simon Said (2.05)

Previous fic: Olive the Birthday Kid

Next Ep: The Usual Suspects (2.07)

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megalony · 5 years

Text

A big family- Part 2

This is the second part in my new dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope you will all enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have three daughters together with their youngest not even being one year old yet. But their family is about to get bigger when they find out they’re pregnant again.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

"Tay it's bedtime now. The tv stays off and you try and go to sleep." There was a small hint of irritation in Ben's voice as he turned off the tv for the second time before putting the remote in front of it so Taylor wouldn't have it by her bed.

They were trying to get her into bed early so she would have time to wear down and for her medication to kick in so she would sleep. But it wouldn't work if she turned on the tv and started watching a movie or if she got hyperactive and right now she was doing both and Ben wasn't having much patience tonight.

Reaching over, Ben turned the light off when Taylor huffed but laid back down in her bed. He waited a moment by the door before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Taylor wasn't asleep and neither was Charlie, Goldie had only just been settled down so Ben knew he didn't have long to talk with (Y/n) before one of them needed their attention. He also knew talking with (Y/n) wasn't going to be as lighthearted or easy as normal because neither of them were in a good mood.

"Don't look at me like that." Ben pleaded when he entered their shared bedroom to see (Y/n)'s mixed emotions in her eyes and on her features.

"One night, Ben. I just wanted one night without an argument happening with my family." (Y/n) sighed as she threw her shirt and leggings into the wash basket before moving to root through her drawer for some pyjamas.

All she had asked was one night where they went to her parent's home and didn't have an argument or a fight because when they were at Ben's parent's home or with any of his family, no one argued. It was bliss with his family but with her own it was always a catfight and she knew her family were always to blame. But (Y/n) had asked if Ben could just try and stay level headed but he simply couldn't. He had to bite back at them when they commented and said things he didn't like or took jibes at him because it wasn't right.

"Then you should have taken the girls without me. You know your bloody mother doesn't like me and your sister isn't any better. If they pulled their heads from their asses for one night it would have been fine." Ben waved his hand to emphasise his point as he shrugged off his shirt and tossed it into the wash basket before doing the same with his jeans and socks.

Ben had said he didn't want to go but (Y/n) wanted him to. They had agreed to tell her parents about the baby tonight and she didn't want to do that without Ben there. Plus it would have been hard to care for all three girls on her own.

But her mother had it in for Ben ever since (Y/n) brought him home to meet her parents. Anything he did, she didn't like and Ben was sick of playing nice when he shouldn't have to. If she wasn't civil with him he never was with her. Even Taylor had started to ask if he was going to fight with grandma when they went round.

"You called my mum a prude and then told Andrea to shove it up her ass! You said that in front of Tay, you're damn lucky Charlie was in the kitchen when you snapped." (Y/n) could see Ben was trying not to laugh and she was angry at him for laughing when she was being serious. He had lost his temper and he had every right and it wasn't often at all that Ben lost his temper. The one thing that got his blood boiling was anyone saying bad things about his family.

"And do you remember why I said that?" Ben taunted as he walked over to her, his lips curving causing (Y/n) to frown. Whenever they had a row or a fight- which admittedly wasn't that often- Ben used humour to dissolve the situation because he didn't like fighting. It was a good tactic and (Y/n) was fine in the morning but she hated it when she was being serious and he simply laughed or smiled.

"Ben-"

"We went round to tell them about this." Ben shook his head as he cut her off, he would be serious now and he wouldn't laugh but he wasn't going to shout or argue anymore because he was too tired. He leaned his head against her own as he pressed his hand to her stomach that had the slightest curve to it now. "Now I know this is a good thing so your mother should have smiled and been happy but she wasn't and I didn't like that. She's always putting you down and criticising me for smoking or drinking or just getting you pregnant. I'm sick of that and when she isn't happy about my family I'm not going to smile."

When they told (Y/n)'s mother that they were expecting Taylor she hadn't been pleased because she thought Ben was a bad influence.

She didn't like his job even though he did have a stable job because he had a good reputation and was good at what he did, not to mention he made enough money to support them. She didn't like that he smoked which was a habit he wanted to continue and it didn't harm anyone else. She thought he drank too much when really he didn't drink half as much as he did when he was in college or university.

And tonight when they told her they were having another baby she simply frowned which made his blood boil. She thought it was too soon after Goldie and clearly stated she thought three children was enough or possibly even more than enough.

Ben was never going to stay quiet when (Y/n)'s mother was simply being rude to them. He hated when she put (Y/n) down and he hated how she talked about them as a couple or them having the girls. When they told his parents, each time they had been excited and happy for them to have a baby and he knew when they told them about this baby they would be happy for them.

"She's always been like that, and you've always been hot-headed around her. I know she's not the best but we can't always fight when we go there."

She was (Y/n)'s mother and (Y/n) knew at the end of the day her mother was never going to be thrilled by her life choices. But it was her life and she was living it the way she wanted. She just didn't want all the drama and the arguments every time they went to see her.

"Not my fault sweetheart. I tried to be nice but I gave up after Tay, now are you still going to be mad at me or not?" Ben had tried his hardest to be kind or just ignorant around her mother but he gave up after they had Taylor.

His girls were everything to him and he was done trying to be nice when her mother started to pick at their lives and their every move. He either stayed out of her way when they went round or he simply didn't go to see her and it had worked for seven years. Ben wasn't going to start trying again when it got him nowhere last time.

(Y/n) really tried to keep a straight face but with Ben smiling at her like they were teenagers again and his fingers dancing over her skin, she couldn't help but smile. It was always hard to be angry with Ben for a long period of time, after about ten minutes she normally gave up. Ben pressed a sweet kiss to her lips before nudging her back until she took the hint and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The pair of them were simply relieved that both Taylor and Charlie had taken the news much better. When they told Taylor the first time she was going to have a sibling she was not happy at all, she kept saying she wanted to be the only sibling. She liked being the only one because she was a daddy's girl and she didn't want to share Ben. But seeing that they treated all their girls the same made it easier and Taylor had been happier this time around, even requesting that they have a boy this time. But she couldn't understand that they didn't get to choose.

Charlie seemed pleased but she wanted a sister again, she seemed to like that Ben was the only guy in the house. Although she didn't like fighting for his attention and another sibling would make that fight worse.

Just as Ben leaned his head down to kiss her again, he stopped midway when a noise caught both their attention. It took him two seconds to realise that it was Taylor making the noise and he suddenly felt his patience wearing down again. Sighing through his nose, Ben leaned down and kissed (Y/n)'s small bump before he stood up and left the room.

He knew that Taylor couldn't help not feeling tired and not being able to shut her mind down to sleep but she didn't half make it harder. She would get out of bed and either put the tv on, try and play with her toys or simply wander into his and (Y/n)'s room. She would never lie down and just try to sleep, she thought that because it took a while, she simply shouldn't bother and would just do anything to distract her mind and keep it awake rather than letting her mind calm down.

"What are you doing?" Ben questioned as he walked into her room, seeing that she had turned on her pink lava lamp near the end of her bed and was sitting up on her bed. She had her legs crossed beneath her ear and a bundle of toys resting in front of her. Clearly, the eldest girl thought she had been as quiet as a mouse because she didn't look happy that she had been caught.

Taylor smiled sweetly as she held a toy out to Ben, wanting him to sit and play with her but he was too tired and she had to be up for school in the morning. Walking over to her, Ben grabbed the tub from the floor and put all the toys from the bed, back into the box she got them from. Taylor did not look happy and she huffed when Ben took the two from her hands and put them in the box too before putting it back under her bed where it stayed.

"You, young lady, are being naughty. Lay down, close your eyes and try to go to sleep because you know you are up past your bedtime." Ben nudged her to lay down before he pulled the covers over her and went to turn off the lava lamp.

"No, daddy I like the lamp on. Stay with me." Taylor held out her arms but Ben shook his head. He sometimes stayed with her until she fell asleep or if she was ill or upset he would stay with her for the night in case she woke up during the night. But he knew if he stayed she would start talking because she wasn't tired. She could mutter or sing to herself on her own and that was fine but she had to try and go to sleep and if he stayed, she wouldn't.

"If I come back in here and find the light on, the toys out or you out of this bed there will be trouble. Go to sleep Tay, I'm serious." Ben kissed her forehead before he turned the lamp off and exited the room.

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"Feels like we have four already, doesn't it?" (Y/n) mumbled quietly when the baby monitor allowed Goldie's wails to pass through into their room as if she was laying right next to them.

Nights always seemed to be worse than during the day because the girls came alive. Taylor was at school for a good portion of the day but when she came home she was hyperactive and at night it was worse. She never seemed to go one night where she didn't wake up or just get up early in the morning. Charlie was always fine when she went to bed, she had a drink of milk and just laid with one parent and she was out like a light. But she did wake up in the night and it was usually when she had to go to the toilet and needed her pull-up changing.

And Goldie was still practically a baby so she needed feeding and changing and just cuddling to send her back to sleep. A baby added to the mix was going to change their dynamic and make sure that both parents didn't manage even six hours of sleep a night.

But it was going to be worth it.

"My turn for Goldie, you see to Charlie." (Y/n) stated before she slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. They were taking it in turns who went to see to Goldie since she was the one who was up at all hours and now (Y/n) had to get up. But Ben couldn't go back to sleep because they had heard Charlie shuffling and then calling out so someone had to tend to her.

Ben walked with his eyes partially closed as he wandered into Charlie's room, not bothering to turn on the light since she had a green night light near her bed. He leaned against the small blue frame they put on the side of the bed so when she turned over, she wouldn't fall out since she was only three.

"Everything alright princess?" Ben cooed, running his fingers through her hair as she slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes so she could look at him properly.

"Toilet." She mumbled as she held her arms out to Ben, wrapping them around his neck when he leaned down. He rested his forehead against her own and smiled tiredly when she leaned for a kiss before nuzzling into him. She looked very sweet when she was tired and her messy hair simply made Ben's heart flutter in his chest.

"You mean you need to go or you've already gone?" Ben questioned as he leaned over and scooped her up into his arms. Charlie was three so trying to get her to go to the toilet instead of simply going in her pull-ups was hard but she was trying. Sometimes she said she needed the toilet and they took her to the bathroom in time. Other times she said it but she meant she needed changing, it was hit and miss.

Ben headed out of her room as he guessed that by the way she was almost asleep on him that she needed changing. Not that it really mattered, it was easier to change her than to coax her to go to the toilet and he didn't fancy sitting in front of her at two in the morning trying to bribe her to use the toilet.

The light in the bathroom didn't disturb Charlie at all, the moment Ben laid her on the changing table she was already asleep. Her hand brushed against her nose as her head lolled to the side before she turned motionless which no longer worried Ben like it used to when she suddenly just seemed to go limp when she slept. Taylor always wriggled in her sleep but Charlie didn't, it was easier when Charlie crawled into their bed because she didn't wriggle or hit or kick in her sleep.

When he'd changed her Ben scooped her into his arms again, watching her head fall on his shoulder as he walked back over to her room. Ben kissed her forehead after he set her down in bed and tucked the covers around her. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hand through her hair for a few minutes just to soothe her to sleep before deciding she was out like a light and wouldn't wake up again.

"Tay's awake." (Y/n) mumbled, nodding her head to Taylor's room as she stood in the doorway to Goldie's room, swaying the toddler in her arms who was feeding from a bottle. (Y/n) didn't want to go and argue with Taylor and tell her to sleep when Goldie was just about settling in her arms now.

"Taylor Jones, what are you doing at two in the morning?" Ben didn't raise his voice too much but he wasn't whispering as he opened her door and walked into her room. Seeing she had turned her lava lamp on and her tv which was playing a Disney film rather quietly. Without waiting for an answer Ben turned the tv off but left the lamp on so he could see her and talk to her. "What did I tell you when I put you to bed? Have you slept at all?"

Ben didn't know of any other child that was awake so many times through the night or who simply didn't get tired like Taylor. It worried both him and (Y/n) that she seemed to be fine after only five or six hours of sleep yet she was still hyperactive through most of the day.

"I woke up... can't sleep anymore." Taylor didn't look at Ben as she spoke, too worried about what he would say or the look he would give her to dare and see his expression. She had tried her best to go to sleep and it had worked, but her mind suddenly woke up and she couldn't shut down again. So she thought she'd watch the tv to occupy her mind and try to send herself to sleep.

A lot of the time she would wake Ben and (Y/n) up but sometimes she knew she would get told off or they would try and get her back to sleep when she didn't want to.

"You have to be up at half seven to go to school, you're not staying up from two in the morning until tomorrow night." Ben frowned when Taylor suddenly started to cry. He didn't want to upset her but she had to learn that she couldn't just stay awake after she woke up, she had to try and go to sleep but she never wanted to.

"You don't shout at Charlie when she wakes up." Taylor sniffed as she started to wail.

"Tay I'm not shouting at you princess. Charlie's already back to sleep she only wanted to go to the toilet, you on the other hand are watching tv right now. Hang on." Ben headed out of the room and peeked into Goldie's room until he caught (Y/n)'s eye. She was just about to settle Goldie back down in the crib who was now content and asleep after being fed. "Tay's upset and won't sleep, I think I'm gonna have to stay with her tonight." Ben couldn't tell Taylor to just shut her eyes and try to sleep because that wasn't going to work tonight and it didn't feel fair.

All he could do was lay with her and try to soothe her to sleep like they had done since she was a baby.

"Alright. Goldie should be fine now but if she wakes I'll see to her... I guess I'll see you in the morning." (Y/n) closed the door behind her before pressing a kiss to Ben's lips. He could stay with Taylor and she would see to Goldie if she woke up anymore and Charlie should be fine for the rest of the night.

When Ben went back into Taylor's room she was still crying but she looked surprised when he came back, as if she thought he was just going to leave her in a state. He closed the door behind him before he walked over and turned climbed into bed with her.

"We'll leave the lamp on for now but no talking, alright princess? Just calm down and stop those tears, it's all okay and I promise I'm not mad. I'm staying with you tonight so you just calm down and try and sleep for me." Ben brushed the tears from under her eyes before she burrowed herself into his chest, nodding instantly at his words. She relaxed when she felt Ben's arms wrapping around her and a kiss being pressed to the top of her head.

"Night daddy."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #dad! ben #imagine #borhap #a big family

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