#he also just doesn’t like the noise of the hundreds of commands that he can’t even follow

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been thinking abt one of my older oni colonies and decided to doodle my first three dupes in that save

#keese draws #oxygen not included #but yeah these guys were my main scientist digger and rancher respectively #this was one of my actual spaced out style saves so ofc I chose the cold asteroid still #it was painful opening this save again to look at their traits as it was basically my first longer attempt #let’s just say I had no idea what I was doing and ran out of power literally everywhere #might do a rescue attempt on this save tbh sounds like a fun challenge #but yeah I actually have characterizations for most of the dupes in this save in my head they’re like semi ocs to me #they’re the ones I like to imagine fumbling about post olivia entering sleep mode #cause there’d be such a harsh contrast in how they’d all react and move forwards #burt in particular would take it rly hard mostly because he’s the only scientist #so everyone ends up looking to him for answers and help and he just doesn’t know how to provide any of it #he had already spent so long feeling overworked and under appreciated so this wouldn’t help at all #quinn on the other hand is generally more optimistic as they have gone through a lot of rough shit and made it out on the other side #so they see this as an obstacle they’ll all overcome and grow stronger from #they’re also just very used to being suddenly forced to say goodbye to people for potentially forever #harold was almost relieved by the whole event because it lead to a lot less activity in the neural chip network #which is in fact a big source of panic for most of the dupes but harold pretty much exclusively goes to like 3 rooms so he’s not as effected #he also just doesn’t like the noise of the hundreds of commands that he can’t even follow #he just manages the plants and the pips and sometimes helps with the cooking #he honestly really likes the freedom of figuring out what to do without instruction #as the pip farm he manages is very. well let’s just say pips tend to starve in there a lot #yknow thankfully I did give these guys a bunch of phones so at least they’d be able to still know what’s up with eachother still #still an uncomfortable feeling loosing that connection that you’ve been relying on for years

[miammey]

Ok, one thing I wanted to point out about the two Hunting Dogs Fukuchi chose to explain the truth to

When he told Jouno about the truth, he explained it in a way that made it seem like some kind of evil plot, allowing him to basically torture the Agency if he so wishes

But when he explained his plans to Teruko, he told her a story that even made Atsushi reconsider his stance on taking down the Decay of Angels

These were two very drastic differences, so I got to thinking (tho it has been a few days since I had the initial idea so bare with me)

We as the audience know that the Decay of Angels is bad overall, I mean they’re literally terrorists whose plans have already involved the deaths of over a hundred people, but why then would someone like Teruko join with them??

She has been shown to care about civilian life, in the Sky Casino she’s been shown not attacking the civilians even after they tried to kill her and Tachihara, and she stated how she views the Hunting Dogs as a violence that crushes down evil, and even that she hates worlds run by violence, but that is exactly what Fukuchi is creating, whether he sees it or not.

She knows that the Decay of Angels are in charge of the vampire epidemic, and have killed so many people.

The thing is, she looked up to Fukuchi, she was his right hand, and she had most likely also seen the horrors of war, and agrees with Fukuchi on his plan to try and end the unnecessary deaths of people all because some big name politicians decided that they need to fight and die for their countries (I think everyone can agree with that, honestly).

Teruko probably doesn’t see any other option at this point. She doesn’t like the idea of technically siding with terrorists she probably won’t hesitate to kill, but she does want peace, she wants the fighting to stop, and maybe one massive fight to end them all is the only path she sees now.

Besides, what would have happened if she said no? She can’t beat him in a fight, and he wouldn’t just let her go. At that moment she probably realized that happened to Tachihara and Jouno, and she didn’t want to end up like them. Even if she could team up with someone she didn’t think the Agency would help her in any way, not after all that, and even then she probably doesn’t think they could beat him, either.

I’ve talked about this before, but she just seems so tired in the more recent chapters, angry. Her eyes are just so empty, she doesn’t even really seem to be trying other than telling the story to Atsushi.

Now, back to Jouno.

Fukuchi told him that he could be as evil as he wants with the Agency, which is very contradictory to what he told Teruko, which is probably closer to the truth (though the possibility that he was lying to her to get her to side with him more willingly is also very real and cannot be ruled out)

Fukuchi had assumed that Jouno was still the way he was when he first joined the Hunting Dogs, and did not expect him to have changed.

But Fukuchi was wrong about him, he very much had changed, and had grown to love protecting the innocent’s

Now, it’s also important to mention that Jouno had no idea if Fukuchi was lying or not due to the noise amplifier, so we did not get Jouno’s point of view on if Fukuchi could possibly be lying here.

What Fukuchi seems to be doing is playing into what he believes to be the Hunting Dogs interests to try and get them to join him.

Think about it, the Hunting Dogs are incredible assets one could have. Over the at least six years he’s been their Commander he had gained a level of trust with them, and an understanding of their strengths. He knew that if he could convince them to join him there would be next to nothing in the way of his plans. Heck, the only reason he even asked Jouno to join was because he wanted him to later join the DOA.

Fukuchi leaned into the parts of his goals to try and play into what the Hunting Dogs want. This plan worked for Teruko because he is much closer with her, but it failed with Jouno.

Hope I’m making sense, anyway that’s my BSD theory

#I’m saying theory because I’m not really sure if this is a proper analysis #this is all over the place and I wrote it in one sitting #but I hope it makes sense #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs manga #bsd hunting dogs #the hunting dogs #bsd manga spoilers #bsd fukuchi #fukuchi ouchi #bsd teruko #teruko okura #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku

[set-phasers-to-whump]

hair's breadth from death

prompt: gun to temple, "say goodbye"

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi! here's another tmfu fic for today, hope you enjoy!

His partners are being held by four heavily armed guards. They’re unharmed for the moment, but the guns pressed to their sides make it clear how quickly this could change. 

Illya, meanwhile, is facing them. He is on his knees and there’s a pistol pressing into his temple so hard that he can feel himself starting to bleed. 

For once in his life, he is truly overpowered. The man holding him at gunpoint is taller and wider than him, and, as Illya had learned when he’d tried to fight him off, stronger. The man is horribly impressive. In the right hands, he’d be a powerful asset. 

Unfortunately, he’s a Nazi. Who is intent on killing Illya and forcing his partners to watch him die. Illya has been threatened with having to watch them die if he tries to escape again. He knows that this guy means it, too. He’ll trade his life for theirs. He always knew that he’d go out at the wrong end of a gun, anyway. 

He keeps looking at his partners as the suspense reaches a near painful intensity. Gaby is silently crying. There is an awful mixture of fear and anger on Solo’s face. It will be okay, he wants to tell them. You will have each other. Thank you, he might also add. 

The guards stand there, immobile and expressionless. Then, just for a second, one of them makes eye contact with him, and there’s something there. It startles him, but then the moment passes. The guard’s face becomes blank again.

“Say goodbye,” commands the man holding the gun. Illya says nothing. He just looks at his partners and hopes that they can read what’s on his face, on his mind. 

There’s a click. The sound reverberates through his head. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and bang. 

The shot echoes, becomes hundreds of shots, so loud that every other noise disappears. Everything goes white. He falls to the ground and wonders whether dead people usually feel the ground when they hit it. 

And then -

Then nothing. He’s conscious, sort of. He is aware of his own existence, but he can’t see anything. There are sounds, but nothing distinct. He wonders where he is. He never believed in an afterlife, but what else can this existence after death be?

“Illya, open your eyes.”

He doesn’t process the words at first, has no idea where they’re coming from. 

“Открой глаза,” the words repeat, insistently. He understands them, but doesn’t know what they mean. Does he even have eyes anymore?

He supposes he must. He tries opening them and finds that this works exactly the same way as it used to. 

He’s staring up at no one other than Napoleon Solo. And everything hits him like a ton of bricks. 

He sits up so fast that it makes him dizzy, blinking in the harsh light. 

“I am alive,” he says, the English muddled in his head but clear on his tongue. “Or else you are dead.”

“You were right the first time,” says Solo. “And as much as we’d all like to continue this little philosophical chat, we really need to go.”

Before Illya can fully process what that means, he’s being hauled to his feet and then they’re walking out of the same dilapidated old warehouse that he’d been in before, and in fact that he’s been in the entire time.

And then they’re outside and it’s pitch dark and he realizes that his head is bleeding. The side of his face is sticky with it and the pain is distant but present. He listens, for lack of anything else to do. No one is speaking to him, not right now, but there are three voices where there should be two. 

Illya puts the pieces together as the group hustles through the back alleys of Ankara. 

He’d caught the briefest glimpse of the mysterious third speaker inside of the warehouse, under the blinding lights. He is fairly certain that the man had been one of the guards holding Gaby and Solo hostage - the one who’d looked at him for that brief second. 

Extrapolating from that, he concludes that this guard had fired the first shot he’d heard, probably at the man who’d been about to kill Illya. Following that, he guesses that the guard had turned on his fellow guards, probably with the help of Gaby and Solo. That would explain all of the other gunshots he’d heard. Then there’s the blood, which he now recalls had been present before the gunshots. It’s from the barrel of the gun pressing to his head, that’s all. 

Everything is fine. 

--

They end up back at their safehouse on the outskirts of the city, and Illya finds himself in the small living room, seated on the couch between his partners and across from the guard who’d saved their lives. 

“I’m CIA,” he is explaining. “Soon to be ex-CIA, I imagine.”

As the man continues to speak, Solo turns Illya’s head towards him with a hand that is gentler than Illya thinks it should be. He begins wiping the blood off of Illya’s face with a damp cotton ball. It stings, and it’s something Illya should be doing himself. He does not need someone else to clean up a little blood.

He lets Solo continue, anyway. 

“- and I’ve been with this cell about a week, not learning much of anything and wishing I had the balls to disobey orders and just kill these sons of bitches, when all of a sudden we’re getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and there you are. And I’m under orders not to make myself known under any circumstances, but I can’t let them kill you. So I didn’t. And for that I assume I’ll be out of a job.”

He shrugs as he says this, like it isn’t a big deal, like he hasn’t just saved three lives in direct disobedience of CIA directives. Illya is - impressed? Disbelieving? Jealous? He settles for grateful. At least for now.

Part of him doesn’t trust the man - not that he’d ever trust anyone this quickly, no matter what they’d done - but he and Solo have apparently met before. So Solo trusts him, which is good enough. 

Speaking of Solo - he’s finished with his cotton ball but his hand is still on Illya’s face. He’s just kind of looking at him, which Illya finds more than a bit odd. 

And then Solo is grabbing him, wrapping arms around him, and Gaby is doing the same from his other side and it startles him for a second and then is simply confusing. 

Their guard coughs, and Illya’s face is currently buried in Solo’s shoulder but he can hear his footsteps quietly receding out of the room. And then the only thing there is is them. 

The thought finally hits him that he’d almost died today. And yes, he’s frequently almost dying and is very much used to being in constant danger. But the danger has rarely felt so imminent. Not to mention it had involved his partners. They’d almost died, too. But they hadn’t, and he hadn’t, either. They’re all still alive.

He returns their embrace, and the three of them sit there like that for a very long time. 

thanks for reading!!!! i know this was a bit light on the whump but rest assured illya has lots more pain coming his way over the next few weeks <3 hope you enjoyed and love u!

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #gun to temple #say goodbye #the man from uncle #illya kuryakin #fic #i say things #my writing #at gunpoint #cared for #also shoutout my random cia dude i had fun with him :) #anyway i had such a long day today ughhhh but now i can chill. at 10:30 pm. the pain of being a college student with Commitments

[klara019]

A little longer - Attack on Titan one shot

Summary: Hange has nightmares, Jean is tired and Levi is, well, not fine but he’s alive.  It’s taking place somewhere around chapter 126, where they are doing the camping stuff in the forest. You know what I’m talking about. 

Author’s note: English is not my first language, so have that in mind. I’m doing my best tho. I wrote it mostly for myself, it doesn’t have an interesting plot, it’s just the concept. I find it kind of comforting, the writing I mean. Anyway, enjoy! Woken by a nearby noise, Jean got up to investigate. It was probably an animal of some kind but the former survey corps member wouldn’t fall back asleep, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that there was safe. 

He passed by his resting comrades, they were all looking so harmless and peaceful, like entirely different people, without angry grimaces and resolutely frowned eyebrows. All in their deserved, calming dreams that were showing them how it would be, if they won their wars.

An uneasy groan alarmed him, that there was something really wrong, but he couldn’t see anything in the thick darkness surrounding him. Jean sighed, trying to find its source. Maybe Captain Levi? It wouldn’t be out of character since he was badly wounded. 

When Jean was about to check on Levi, another fretful noise reached his ears. It wasn’t the Captain, he thought, squinting and recognizing the person lying nearby. It was Hange. 

Their muscles were tensend and a painful grimace was visible on their tired face. Hange’s restless movements were followed by another groan, which made Jean feel awful about everything that happened in the past four years. He knew they were exhausted because of the crushing weight of being the commander but he never thought it was this bad. 

Right before he reached their shoulder to wake Hange up from the nightmare they’d been having, he heard a familiar whisper. 

“Oi, Jean. Don’t even try it�� he said, slightly raising his head. “They haven’t slept much in three days in a row, have some mercy.”  Levi’s voice was harsh but there was also a lot of concern in it. 

Jean wasn’t convinced and hesitated for a moment. Captain was right, they hadn’t been looking well recently but they were also really struggling right now. His face features lighten when Hange mumbled something in their sleep, clenching their fists. 

“It’s not the first time, am I right?” Jean asked, sitting down on the wet grass. 

Levi confirmed. Jean could tell that Hange wasn’t the same bright and cheerful person they used to be. He couldn’t even tell when was the last time he saw them smiling.

“So are we waiting?”

“There’s no better option.” Captain closed his eyes. His answer was suspiciously fast and firm. “Go back to sleep, I’ll take care of them.” 

Jean sighed and hugged his knees close to the chest. 

“I’ll stay. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

Levi nodded, fully understanding him. There was too much going in everybody’s head right now. 

Hange suddenly jumped wide awake, sighing loudly. They were panting, like they were running away from something, their remaining eye moving restlessly before they'd finally acknowledged the situation they were in. Jean approached them slowly and cautiously, as he didn’t want to make them more panicked, then they already were. He gently squeezed Hange’s trembling shoulders, in effort to still them.

„There, it was just a bad dream. You’re safe” he stated, knowing that nobody was safe there.

“Jean?” They said dozily. “I can’t shut up even in my sleep, can I?” They tried to turn everything into a joke but it wasn’t working. Hange’s voice was quivering. “Sorry for waking you up, I can’t really control it… Jean? Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Former survey corps member hugged them tightly and reassuringly. 

“You should rest, it must have been a really bad dream” he whispered calmingly. He felt guilty about all these years, when Hange was there for them all. How could they all not have noticed that something was so wrong? 

“Not really, it wasn’t…” They looked away in embarrassment. “It was a stupid dream actually.” Their face paled, as they continued. “But it was just a dream, right?”

After a couple of minutes their breath eased and the trembling disappeared completely

“I’m going to check on Lev-”

“There is no need for it.” Captain cut off, before they could finish the sentence. Hange chuckled. “How do you feel?”

“Fine but I don’t think I’ll fall asleep tonight. You?”

“Same” Levi answered with a tired voice.. 

“Once we stop Eren from destroying the world, I’m going to have a good night's sleep. And a bath.” They daydreamed, putting their hands behind their head. Hange frowned a little, feeling the pain in their right shoulder, right where she was shot some years ago. “I’m getting old” They said, looking at the sky full of stars. Was it really that far away? “But not as old as you, Levi. You’re nearly a fossil.” They added but didn’t even smile. It seemed like it should have been a joke but no one was in a mood to laugh.

Jean suddenly felt weird. There was something wrong in their behaviour, like it was all a mask. What if it always has been like this and he just didn’t pick it up?

Hange exhaled loudly and shakely. Dread filled their eye as they started talking again. 

„I hope there is another option and we won’t need to kill Eren. There must be a different way, we just don’t see it.” Hange said sadly, her devastated whisper echoed in their ears.

„Even though he betrayed us… I don’t want to kill him” Jean swallowed heavily. „But if it’s the only way I won’t hesitate. I want to do what’s right, even if I’ll pay for it with the rest of my life in guilt and remorse.” 

„Jean, while I was away hiding in the woods with Levi I had to kill a lot of Yeagerists chasing us. I did it in order to survive but… But they were doing what they thought was best to Paradis. Like we do now.” Hange hid their face in their knees. 

„You did what you had to. Now we have a chance of stopping the rumbling. You did it to the greater good” Levi mumbled firmly. 

„Ah, yes, the greater good. Or a lesser evil if you like. It’s neither good nor evil, it’s all about the numbers. But we need to carry on just a little longer.”

Jean didn’t understand how Hange could be so sure about it but he instantly thought that they were right. Just a little longer and it’ll be fine. Keep going.

#aot #aot hange #attack on titan #shingeky no kyojin #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #whump #hange #aot hanji #levi #jean #oneshot #I needed to write this

[late-to-the-fandom]

Character Relationships Tag

THANK YOU @spuddlespud for tagging me in this! I have always wanted an excuse to do this for Renathal’s various relationships. And fair warning I took this so serious so it is long (I hid it under the break, you’re welcome 😂)

Tagging: @shipping-through-eternity @mousterian-writes @diaryofomellas @scourge-lover I would love to see your character’s relationships in a nice bullet point list where I can keep track 😂

Denathrius - Renathal’s relationship with Denathrius is a mix of father/son and God/creation. Without meaning any offense, I drew a lot from my experience watching Protestant Christians describe their relationship with God - where it’s supposed to be both reverent and familial/personal all at once. Denathrius is his guidepost in everything, his confidante/confessor, his father he’s sure loves him, and his god he’s certain can do no wrong. When he initially discovers what Denathrius is doing, he’s almost certain it’s some sort of test, a way to see what Renathal would be willing to do in the event of deep seated corruption in the realm. Obviously, Denathrius’ actual betrayal and careless disposal of Renathal is catastrophically traumatic to him. (Also, important note for me: I don’t give this relationship any sexual aspect whatsoever)

The Maw Walker - Renathal’s relationship with the Maw Walker originally starts as a replacement for the hole left by Denathrius. In the midst of this trauma, the Maw Walker shows up and rescues him, his friends, his entire realm, and, what’s more, supports his rebellion. Obviously, he latches on to this person for comfort. But over time, this relationship evolves into something I consider more mature, and less one sided than his ret with Denathrius; based on mutual trust and respect, an understanding of the other’s flaws and limitations, and a realisation they both have something to offer the other for their greater health and happiness. It’s a relationship that makes them both the best version of themselves.

The Curator - I think of all Renathal’s relationships with other Venthyr, theirs is the closest. Not best friend close, but siblings close in age close. It’s based on my own relationship with my brother, a year younger than me. We can not talk for months, but when we do we pick right back up as if we never stopped. We have a million inside jokes and shared history that our other younger siblings don’t have, and fights come and go pretty meaninglessly because we’re just such a permanent fixture in each other’s lives. That’s how I see this relationship.

The Accuser - I headcanon the Accuser as relatively young in Venthyr terms and somewhat recently ascended to her position (talking hundreds of years rather than thousands). Renathal is used to commanding a certain amount of basic respect from other harvesters, and she’s the first one in his memory to just say fuck that noise 100%. She can’t stand Renathal and only puts up with him out of respect for chains of command. What’s worse is Renathal actually respects her more than any Harvester in a long time, and so it bothers him that she doesn’t respect him. The only time they’ve ever seen eye to eye is when Renathal started his rebellion (which was more shocking to the Accuser who thought Renathal would put loyalty to Denathrius over paltry things like right and wrong). I think by the end of my story they’ve come to a tentative respect for each other but they’re never destined to be friends (it’s going to take a few more eons as a Venthyr before the Accuser can see the merit in the decadence and frivolities she thinks Renathal values too highly).

The Countess - what’s the word when you fuck each other occasionally in spite of or specifically because you hate each other so you know you’re safe from catching any feels and also you can use it against other sometimes, but you feel gross afterwards and you hate seeing each other pretty much any other time? Bang enemies? Fuck foes? That’s Renathal and the Countess.

The Stonewright - You know the sibling that’s technically younger than you but is taller, tougher, and could clearly beat you to a pulp so you make a point not to mess with them in order to maintain the illusion that you’re superior? That’s Renathal and the Stonewright.

Other harvesters - I don’t have many set headcanons for Renathal’s relationships with other harvesters, because in my world they come and go fairly regularly. Only the Curator and the Stonewright are close to Renathal’s age and the ones he considers his true siblings. The rest he’s polite enough to (as long as they stay on his good side) but he never lets them forget he’s their superior and he never fully trusts them or is close to any of them (since most of them are actively try to usurp his position, hence why none of them ever last long).

Theotar - Ok. Here is my personal headcanon for the relationship that is the darling of so much of the Renathal fandom (and which I fully admit is coloured by my dislike for this character). They were relatively close friends before the rebellion, with Renathal attracted to Theotar’s hidden sincerity, a trait rare in Venthyr. But, in an effort to spare Theotar from Denathrius who likes to sabotage Renathal’s relationships in painful ways, he keeps this relationship from going anywhere too intimate and in the end they’re two friends that know they might have enjoyed a romantic relationship in a different timeline but the circumstances just never worked out and they’re perfectly content with how things landed.

Draven, Chelra, and Vorpalia - I think Renathal’s greater friendships would come from these three, each of whom is somewhat out of Denathrius reach (more so than the Venthyr). He doesn’t confide in any of them as totally as he does with Denathrius and then the Maw Walker, mostly because he still feels he has to maintain a semblance of Princely decorum. But he does trust them in ways he doesn’t trust other Venthyr because they’re outside Venthyr politics, and the likelihood they can be turned against him, even by Denathrius, is small.

I think that’s all the major ones! Although if I missed a major one, let me know!

#tag games #Writing games #my writing #renathal x maw walker #headcanons

[bangchanswolfpelt]

Now that I’ve read your riding!txt headcanons I’m thinking about you making soob wear a ball stretcher and cock rings to try to make him last a bit longer before he cums, bc baby wants to cum at the same time as you. Although it would make him a moaning mess (not that we mind, we stan loud boys in this house 🤤)

ahhhh, i literally never think about toys for penises, but Soobin in a cockring or ball stretcher is such a top tier idea 🤤 he’s already fuckin massive, but somehow they make him look and feel even bigger 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 (also, i didn’t even know what a ball stretcher was before this and did a LOT of reading up on them, so thank you for that💞)

cw: sub!Soobin, ball-stretcher, overstimulation

Bringing your new favorite toy into the bedroom was Soobin’s idea—why would you care about how soon he comes, when you can ride him for as long as you want regardless of when he’s finished? It's so fun to watch him whine and cry from overstimulation underneath you, to taunt him about it afterwards, and all that cum just makes the glide of his massive cock a little bit easier anyways.

But your baby boy wants to be able to last for you, wants to be able to cum with you instead of falling apart like a helpless mess and leaving you to get yourself off, so he does some research...

When he finally works up the courage to bring up using a toy on himself, his cheeks are red and and he can’t to meet your gaze—his words are vague and stumbling, like he’s only just had the idea, but when you encourage him to show you what he means, he brings up approximately four hundred tabs of articles and reviews and online sex shop carts. He has so many kinds he wants to try, from simple loops of soft silicone to complicated works of leather and steel. You make him start out simple, though—getting a cockring-ballstretcher combo with attached nipple clamps on chains when he’s not even sure yet if he likes cockrings, ballstretchers, or nipple clamps is a bit much.

The first (but not last) order you make is for a straightforward starter ball stretcher; he checks the tracking information obsessively, but that doesn’t keep his face from scrunching up with surprised delight the day you come in brandishing his present.

You set yourself down on the bed after cleaning the new toy and grabbing lube, beckoning for Soobin to come stand in front of you. He strips shyly and shuffles forward at your soft command, torn between hiding his face and watching with open-mouthed fascination as you nudge his legs further apart and begin to carefully lube him up. You spend more time than you need to gently rolling his balls in your hands, insisting that he needs to be warm and relaxed to get in on properly—there’s definitely a part of you that thinks of making him cum right then and there, but with how excited he’s been, that would be just a little too mean.

Even with your restraint, Soobin’s a mess by the time you begin to slide the soft silicone band over his balls, panting and shivering under your touch. when you’re done, you sit back and admire the sight of your new plaything adorning your favorite plaything.

His balls are naturally big and heavy, but with the stretcher on, they stand out even more beneath his weighty cock—the skin warmer and ruddier, the veins more prominent, and you just can’t resist the urge to lean in and trace them delicately with your tongue. The sharp whine, the jerk of his hips—his desperation for you is always so wonderfully clear in everything he does, whether he wants it to be or not.

Satisfied that your boy is situated just the way you want him, you scoot yourself back on the bed, rucking up the oversized shirt you stole from his closet and wiggling out of your underwear. As you spread your legs for him, you reach out for his hand and tug him roughly down onto the bed over you—he’s not used to being on top, but if your baby wanted this so badly, then you think he can work for it.

Soobin can never contain the noises he makes, sweet whimpers and whines he tries to muffle behind a bitten lip or tucked in the crook of your neck, but tonight he’s shameless—filthy, full-throated moans filling the room as he slides into you slowly. There’s no getting used to the size of him, so long and thick that sometimes you can’t believe he even fits, but with the change in bloodflow he even feels bigger now. The stretch is almost more than you can take, especially with so little prep, but the burn can’t possibly compare to your hunger for him.

At your prompting, he grips your waist and plants a knee on the bed, angling his hips so the head of his cock drags more firmly against your sweet spot and sending sparks up your body. His fingers dig into the smooth expanse of your back in response to the way you arch and moan under him, and your eyes flutter open to the sight of Soobin leaning over you, mouth open as he pants, eyes scrunched shut and brow furrowed with determination. He’s trying so very hard for you, your good boy—you card your fingers through his hair and take his pretty face in your hands, press a kiss to his plush lips as a little reward, then another, and another, because how can you resist such a sweet mouth?

It’s his tongue, dipping so shyly into your mouth even as his cock fills you almost to the point of pain, that tips you over the edge, hands twisting in his hair as lightning rolls through you, and the way you milk his cock drags him down along with you. He fucks you roughly through your orgasm, whining into your mouth as he pumps you full of his cum.

He’s still hard after emptying himself inside of you , which isn’t surprising—what is surprising is that instead of protesting that it’s too much, Soobin’s begging for more, the roll of his hips into yours not faltering for a moment even as he buries his face in your shoulder to muffle his pleading. The steady churn of his cock forces his cum out of you, smearing along your thighs and dripping down his poor, swollen balls. Tugged away from his body by the stretcher, they have more room to move freely, slapping heavily against your ass with every frantic thrust.

They're hot and tight in your hand when you reach down to cup them, and the realization that he has so much cum left for you makes you ravenous. You twine around him like poison ivy, legs locked around his waist, hands tangled in his hair to drag his gaze back to meet your own—eyes glazed as he loses himself in the warm, wet heat of your body.

It doesn't matter how much he's filled you, knowing that he has more to give urges along your impulse to take, tongue darting out to plunder his mouth as you fuck yourself up onto his cock. Soobin gives himself over to your greed so easily, mouth pliant and sweet, hands clutching you like a lifeline—his need fueling your need in what feels like an endless feedback loop until you're overloaded, sight shorting out and nails raking down his back as your orgasm washes over you.

Usually you can usually get yourself off two or three times before he cums again, but the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing around him force him to spill inside of you a second time—arms a vice around you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, sobbing with relief as he fills you up once more. Somehow there's even more than the first time, messy gushes painting your skin and the sheets beneath you as he falls to pieces in your arms.

He's shivering as his hips finally still against yours, expression soft and dreamy as you stroke his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. You bring him down with soft words and butterfly kisses along his lashes, push him gently down on the bed and clean him up when you finally feel your legs enough to unlock your death grip around his waist. As you toss your latest acquisition into the sink to clean later, you make a mental note to take another pass at everything Soobin had bookmarked

Your baby has such good ideas.

(his new enthusiasm for toys probably also gives you some ideas about cock cages, but we can get into that another time 👀)

tagging: @jensdior

#soobin smut #txt smut #mail corner 📬 #txt👾 #ficlets📓

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 11

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 11 - This Venerable One Wants His Family to be Happy

"Yes, it's me!" Madam Chen sobbed, "But I didn't write this spiritual tablet! How could I curse my child? I—"

"You wouldn't have written it while you were awake, but not necessarily while you were asleep."

Chu Wanning said. He raised his hand, picked up the spiritual tablet, spiritual energy pouring out of his palm. Suddenly, a distant and piercing scream erupted from the spiritual tablet, followed by a stream of blood gurgling out of it.

The sharp gleam in Chu Wanning's eyes was bitterly cold, and he harshly said: "The arrogance of this creature; it dares to make trouble!"

Because of the great spiritual power in his palm, the writing on the tablet was forced to retreat little by little amid the screams, becoming fainter until it finally disappeared completely. Chu Wanning's slender and cold white fingers clenched and the whole tablet shattered!!

The Chen family looked stunned from behind him. Not just the Chen family, even Shi Mei was stunned.

He couldn't help sighing: "That's amazing."

Mo Ran also couldn't help but sigh inside; he really was so powerful.

Chu Waning turned his handsome and clear face sideways. There was no expression on his face, only a few spots of blood splashed on the side of his cheek. He raised his hand and carefully examined the bloodstains remaining on his fingertips. He said to the Chen family: "All of you will stay in the courtyard today, don't go anywhere."

At this point, none of them dared disobey and they quickly agreed: "Okay! Okay! Whatever you say!"

Chu Wanning strode out of the temple, unconcerned with wiping away the blood on his face. He gestured at Madam Chen: "Especially you, don't fall asleep. To keep that thing out of your body, even if you get tired, you need to stay awake."

"Yes. . . yes yes!" Madam Chen replied repeatedly. With tears in her tears, she asked in disbelief, "Daoist Master, my son. . . is. . . is he alright?"

"He's fine for now."

Madam Chen was startled: "For now? Not always? Then, how can I save my son's life?"

Chu Wanning said: "Catch the demon."

Mrs. Chen was very anxious and couldn't help but be a little rude. She couldn't care less about being polite and asked urgently: "When does the Daoist master plan to catch it?"

"Immediately."

Chu Wanning said. He glanced at the Chen family and asked: "Who knows where the red coffin was dug? Come and lead the way."

The eldest son’s daughter-in-law was named Yao. Even though she was a woman, she was tall and looked somewhat good-looking Although her face was filled with fear, she was calmer than the others. She spoke up: "My late husband and I picked out the land. I know the location. I'll lead you there."

The three of them followed Chen Yao all the way north and soon arrived at the land the Chen family had bought.

Martial law had been set up there, and there are no one around. The dark hills were overgrown with trees, not a single sound of insects or birds singing.

Climbing up the mountainside, the view widened over the scene. Chen Yao said: "The three Daoist masters are here."

The place where the red coffin was dug out still had a tombstone stuck over it. Mo Ran laughed: "What's this broken stone supposed to be used for? It looks like an amateur put it there. Move it."

Chen Yao was a little flustered: "The gentleman in the town said that the evil creature is being suppressed by it and can't get out."

Mo Ran chuckled: "He must be really capable."

". . ." Chen Yao said, "Move, move, move!"

Chu Wanning remarked icily: "No need." After he said that, he raised his hand, and golden light glowed from his fingertips. Tianwen listened to his command and appeared in his palm. As soon as he flicked the willow vine, the headstone instantly shattered into pieces! Chu Wanning walked over expressionlessly. He stood on the pile of ruins, raised his palm again, and said in a deep voice: "What are you doing hiding in there? Get up!"

There was a strange noise underneath the earth, and suddenly, a 12-foot-high thick wooden coffin broke out of the ground. The sand and mud rained down and dust was flying everywhere.

Shi Mei exclaimed in surprise: "This coffin is surrounded by such evil energy!"

Chu Wanning said: "Stand back."

After that, with a backhand draw, Tianwen slashed across the welded red coffin. Golden sparks shot in all directions. After a few moments of silence, the coffin lid exploded with a bang. The billowing smoke dispersed and the thing inside it was revealed.

Lying in the coffin was a naked man with a straight nose and a handsome face. If it weren't for his pale skin, he would look like he was simply sleeping.

Mo Ran's eyes flicked down to what was under the man's waist: covering his eyes and said: "Oh, don't wear skimpy pants, you skunk."

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Chen Yao cried out: "Husband!" She moved forward to rush towards the coffin. Chu Wanning stretched out his hand to stop her. He raised an eyebrow and asked: "This is your husband?"

"Yes! It's my husband!" Chen Yao was devastated. "Why would he be here? He was already buried in the ancestral grave. He was also wearing much nicer funeral clothes. How could he. . ."

Halfway through speaking, the woman began to weep, pounding her chest, "How could this happen! How tragic - so awful! Husband. . . Husband!!"

Shi Mei sighed: "Madam Chen, please keep it together."

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran didn't pay attention to the crying woman. Chu Wanning was not good at comforting people, while Mo Burning was totally compassionless. They stared at the body in the coffin.

Since Mo Ran had lived through this in a previous life, nothing unfolding was a surprise to him, but he still needed to put on an appearance, so he touched his chin thoughtfully: "Shizun, something's wrong with the corpse."

Chu Wanning: "I know."

". . ."

What he had said was exactly what Chu Wanning had said during this conversation in his previous life. In this life, he wanted to use it to shock Chu Wanning. He did well, and yet he only threw out a simple "I know" as a result.

Shouldn't a shizun encourage his disciple to speak his mind and give him praise and reward??

Mo Ran pretended that he hadn't heard him say "I know", and continued: "This corpse has no signs of decay. It's been more than half a month since the accident. Based on the current climate, it should have festered and rotted. A layer of fluids should have built up in the coffin. That's the first strange thing."

Chu Wanning gave him a cold glare with a look of "Are you done fooling around?": ". . ."

"Secondly." Mo Ran was unmoved, continuing to recite Chu Wanning's words from the previous life to solve the puzzle. "Before the coffin was opened, the evil energy around the red coffin was dense, but after it was opened, it dissipated. And there's a minimal evil aura around the corpse, which is also very abnormal."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Thirdly, did you find that from the moment the coffin was opened, there was a sweet smell in the air?"

The scent was so delicate, if you don't pay attention, you wouldn't notice it at all. When Mo Ran pointed it out, Shi Mei and Chen Yao realized that there really was a faint sweetness in the air.

Shi Mei: "Indeed."

Chen Yao's face changed when she smelled it, "This scent. . ."

Shi Mei: "Madam Chen, what's the matter?"

Chen Yao’s scared voice changed: "This scent is my mother-in-law's hundred butterfly fragrance powder!"

No one spoke for a while. The prophetic sign in the ancestral hall that read "Master Yang, Chen Sunshi" appeared in front of him again.

Shi Mei asked: ". . . Could Madam Chen really have done this?"

Mo Ran: "It doesn't look like that."

Chu Wanning: "No."

The two spoke almost at the same time and glanced at each other after speaking. Chu Wanning's face didn't waver: "You speak."

Mo Ran said nonchalantly: "As far as I know, the Chen family made a fortune and relied on the old lady's hundred butterfly fragrance powder. Although the powder's formula is a secret, the finished product isn't difficult to get. Five or six of ten girls in Caidie Town use this fragrance. Not only that, but we investigated before we came here. Mr. Chen himself seems to like his mother's butterfly fragrance powder very much, and he often mixes it in his bathwater so it’s not strange that he has this smell on his body, the strange thing is. . ."

He said, turning his head again to the naked man in the coffin.

"This person has been dead for half a month, and this fragrance smells like it was just applied. Am I right, Shizun?"

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Just praise me if I'm right."

Chu Wanning: "Mmm."

Mo Ran laughed: "What a waste of words."

He didn't have a chance to laugh again. Suddenly, his robe flew to the side, Chu Wanning pulled him back a few feet, the golden light of Tianwen in his hand was shining, dancing like flames.

"Watch out."

The smell of the butterfly fragrance powder in the air suddenly grew stronger. As the scent drifted away, a white mist appeared between the grass and trees, which began to diffuse at an alarming speed. Instantly, it turned the entire mountainside into a sea of ​​mist, and all of a sudden, he couldn't even see the hand in front of his face!

Mo Ran's heart lurched.

An illusionary world appeared.

"Ah!!!" In the thick fog, the first thing that rang out was Chen Yao's screams, "Daoist Master, help—"

Before she finished the last word, everything went silent.

Chu Wanning's fingertips lit up with a blue gleam, and he slapped a tracking spell onto Mo Ran's forehead: "Be careful, I'll check it out."

After he spoke, he followed the voice and quickly disappeared into the thick fog.

Mo Ran touched his forehead and chuckled in a low voice: "Well, even the position of the spell is exactly the same as in my previous life. Chu Wanning, you really haven't changed a bit."

The fog came quickly and dispersed just as fast. It didn't take long for the fog to disappear without a trace. However, the scene in front of him was even more surprising than the fog. Mo Ran was really shocked, at least he was in his last life.

After the fog cleared, the originally desolate and overgrown mountainside had disappeared.

Instead, there was a vast and elegant garden, pavilions, waterfalls, curved corridors, rocky gardens and jade trees, and pebble paths as far as the eye could see.

Mo Ran took a look at the surroundings and immediately wanted to roll around in joy.

This rogue hooligan spent all day thinking about this illusion. In his previous life, they were similarly lost in it. First, Mo Ran ran into Shi Mei, and under the compulsion of the illusion, he kissed the other for the first and only time in his life.

It's a pity that Shi Mei was terribly frightened when it happened. He let go of Mo Ran, turned and ran away. He wasn't given the chance to take a second bite of the swan before it was taken off his plate, which was really unfortunate.

After the illusion was broken, Shi Mei never brought it up. The kiss in the illusion was treated as if it hadn't happened, and no one mentioned it again. Sometimes when he dreamt at night, Mo Ran wondered if he was obsessing too deeply over something he imagined.

But whether he imagined it or not, Mo Ran licked his lips. He thought this time he definitely wouldn't let Shi Mei run away from him that easy! One kiss wasn't enough!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

#harringrove #d+mb sh+t i write #but #i had fun! #writing max bc she's my fav <3<3< #and also #dumbstrucklovestruck billy? MY FAV TKVM #also #mixtaping IS an art #xharringrove

[pinkoushi]

flipping like a switch (NSFW)

summary: asahi can flip like a switch, going from shyly blushing at your compliments to pounding you until your legs give out. porn with very little plot

characters: asahi x f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: major daddy kink, creampie, edging, slight impact play, mild dacryphilia (? not sure tbh), mating press, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting (slightly), degradation, praise, PET NAMES, borderline forced orgasm aaaand slight overstim? i think that’s it. basically, y/n is in for a wild ride

A/N: okay. i haven’t written a fic for at least two years so i’m grossly bad at it, sorry! also, in case anyone missed it, this is based off the interaction between asahi and @odetolove​ / @introloves (i’m the asahi mod, i’m not stealing anyone’s content dw) anyway, enjoy!

It was a lazy Saturday; you and Asahi had the day off work and had decided to take the day to just relax, ending up on the couch together, half watching an old show you’d seen together hundreds of times. Asahi was on his back, you laying on top of him, his hands running soothingly up and down your back.

  “You’re so pretty.” He suddenly whispers, moving a hand to pet your head, urging you to look up at him.

  “Hmm you’re real pretty too, baby!” You hum back, barely awake, nuzzling your face on his muscular chest. “So handsome, makes me weak.”

  A blush creeps up his face, heart beating faster. You had been dating for just over a year, and with the constant compliment battles the two of you had, you’d think he’d gotten used to it, but he never understood how someone as beautiful as you could possibly love him as much as you do.

  “Y/N! You can’t just say that without warning!” He moves a hand to cover his burning face, feeling you laugh against his chest.

  “Aw but it’s so fun to tease you!” You look up, resting your chin on his chest, a playful smile on your lips. “You get flustered to easily, I could just say that no one makes my pussy as wet as you do, and it’d put you in the grave.”

  He squeaks, both hands now covering his face.

  “It really is surprising how your personality flips, you’d think I was the dom here,” you laugh again, moving one of his hands from his face. “but you flip like a switch, fucking my brains out without a moment of hesitation.”

  Confidence grows in him, blooming in his chest. You move up, gently sucking on his neck.

  “My daddy, always fucking me so good.” You mumble against his neck, feeling your lower stomach tighten with arousal.

  Asahi growls, flipping the two of you over, moving between your legs and pinning your hands over your head.

  “My needy slut wants to play, is that it? Teasing daddy,” he smacks your leg, “how naughty.”

  He kisses you roughly, hands roaming your body, groping at your tits. He’s growling into your mouth, grinding his hardening cock against your clothed cunt.

  His lips move to your neck, sucking and biting harshly, hands moving your shirt up to expose your chest, fingers finding your nipples and pinching them.

  You’re sighing and mewling, squirming against his actions, big and rough hands making you shiver. He smacks one of your tits, making you arch your back in to his touch.

  “Please, fuck me!” You’re growing desperate, bucking your hips to get him to touch you more, deeper.

  “Daddy, please” your hands find themselves in his hair, tugging on the soft locks. He tuts, biting down on the point where your neck meets your shoulder.

  “Now, now, let daddy take his time or you’re not getting his cock.” He moves, lifting your shirt off your body before attacking your chest with hickeys. One hand trails down, sneaking under your sweatpants and panties, teasing your clit with soft touches, making you gasp.

  “What did I just tell you, princess? Let daddy take his time.” His voice is harsh and deep. He scrapes his teeth on a nipple before moving down your body. “Maybe my pretty girl needs to be taught some patience, hm?”

  He pulls your sweatpants and underwear down, spreading your legs and teasing your slit with a finger.

  “Such a pretty little pussy for me, all mine.” He licks a hot strip over it, latching on to your clit and sucking. Two fingers find your entrance, pushing in and rubbing against your g spot.

  “Ah-! Daddy!” You moan out loudly, hips bucking. “slo- slow down, gonna cum too quick!”

  He doesn’t stop or slow down, speeding up instead. He waits, letting your orgasm build and build, hearing you near the edge and…

 “FUCK, daddy, please!” He pops off, lips and fingers leaving you as you wail, hips moving desperately, searching for his touch.

  You only moan and whine in response, frustrating him. He lets you calm down before attacking your clit again, sucking and playing with it. You tense up, muscles locking and trying to wrap your legs around his broad shoulders to keep him in place. Asahi only groans, pushing two fingers in again and pumping hard, building you up again.

  He leans his head on your inner thigh, pinning your legs open with his hands.

  “Aw, baby, you’re gonna have to wait,” he smacks your trembling pussy, smiling at the way you writhe in pain and pleasure, “you have to learn to be more patient.”

  “Please- please daddy, let me cum, please!” you babble, gripping his hair to pull him in closer.

  But he lets go again. You groan out, tears welling in your eyes. He smiles and kisses your shaking legs, hands running up and down your torso, calming you again.

  “So pretty for me, all needy and crying.” He coos, pinning your legs open again and licks up your weeping hole, pushing his tongue in. He thrust a little with the muscle, moving back to your sensitive clit, pushing in his fingers again.

  “Cum for me.” He commands, speeding up his fingers to urge your orgasm closer.

  “FUCK! Daddyyy” you shake, your orgasm spilling down your pussy and down to your butt, falling on the couch. He doesn’t stop, harshly working you through the waves, pushing you to force more cum to squirt out. “Please, please, can’t- too much!” You try pushing his head away, him eventually retreating. He rubs on your legs and stomach, letting you breathe again.

  “Good girl, so pretty, came so hard for me.”

  He doesn’t try to initiate anything else, giving you the space to keep going if you want to.

  You reach out, hands grabbing in the air and a high-pitched whine leaving your throat. Tears pool in your eyes, desperation aching in your bones.

  “D-Daddy, please” you look down, squirming at his lust filled eyes, lower face covered in your slick and cum. “please... fuck me”

  “Who owns this pussy? Who is fucking you this good? Tell me.” He commands, shivering at the way your eyes gloss over, completely submissive for him.

  Arousal runs hot in his body, your desperation awakening something deep inside him. He hooks his hands under your knees, pushing them to your chest, moving your body in to a mating press. Taking a hold of his cock and teasing your entrance before pushing in, a groan slipping out from his lips.

   “Fuuuuck yes princess, feel so good!” his hands land above your head, lips meeting yours for a kiss. He starts thrusting, hard and deep, forcing squeals out from your mouth.

  “Daddy~” you mewl, shaking hands clawing on his back, leaving red marks on the smooth skin.

  Asahi comes down to leave hickeys on your neck, licking, sucking and biting at all the skin he can reach. His thrusts keep going, the slapping of your hips meeting echoing off the walls. You’re a mess, mouth open and letting all noises come out. The thrusts come to a halt, just grinding against you, one of his hands grabbing a hold of your hair to force you to look at him.

  “You- you do, pussy- yours! Yours daddy, ‘m all yours, please!” you’re babbling, tears falling from your eyes and hands trying to force his hips to move again.

  “good girl” Asahi coos, kissing your cheek and letting go of your hair, “such a good girl for daddy, my little slut.” Slapping your thigh and starting to move his hips again, chucking at the whine that escapes your throat.

  “gonna cum for me again? C’mon, I know you can do it, my needy bitch can cum as much as daddy asks her to, right?” he hums, a hand sneaking down to play with your clit, groaning as you tense up and just about scream, orgasm hitting you hard.

  He pulls out, going down your shaking body to your pussy, licking up the fluids and moaning. His fingers never leave your clit, playing with it until a sob echoes in the room. He pulls back, smirking up at you.

  “My pretty girl, came so good n hard for me.” He’s making his way up again, pressing your knees up to your chest again and pushing in his cock again. “just a little more, my love, gonna cum soon. Where do you want it?”

  “I-in… in me. Please, daddy please cum in me” you say softly, gasping when his thrusts start again, hard and quick.

  He groans into your neck, humming approvingly. Your legs and arm go limp, mouth open and fucked out. You can barely think, skin on fire and pussy clenching over the thought of his hot cum inside you.

  “Gonna cum, gonna, gonna-!” his voice is hurried and strained, biting down on your neck and moaning, hot spurts shooting into your pussy.

  You’re both huffing and panting. He moves your legs down and lays down between your spread legs, kissing your chest.

  “Th-thank you daddy” you gasp out, feeling his cum leak out of your soaking pussy. Your fingers run through his hair, smiling at his arms wrapping around your waist and snuggling closer.

#i- okay its /something/ #is it good? probably not #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #asahi.babes #karasuno.babes #nsfw.tag #haikyuu smut #x.f!reader

[allthingskakashi]

8 please🥺🥺🥺

• Under Grey Skies •

[ Kakashi x Reader] // 3k

Fluff Prompt : “No, like... it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes” // Kakashi x Reader

A/n: This was supposed to be "short" but i unfortunately do not comprehend that word. Dunno what that is mate never heard of it, and i also haven't written in a month and have become quite rusty so here i hope you enjoy this 3k worded hot pile of stinking poo 👍🏼😃

When you left your house at 10 am this morning, the skies were clear as glass. No clouds in sight, and a brightly glowing Sun perched high overhead. That was the very reason you’d chosen today to get done with your errands, the hundreds of errands you’d been putting off for weeks now.

Not so surprisingly however, fate had been pulling a dirty prank on you. Soon after you left the house, dark grey splotches appeared across the sky, engulfing the sunny rays and shortly afterwards, the streets began to ring with the sound of splattering rain.

So here you are now, standing on the roadside under the shed of Ichiraku Ramen with a hand full of heavy bags, watching the thundering rains which show no sign of stopping any time soon. You are unquestionably without an umbrella, and the handles of the big brown bags in your hands are beginning to leave painful red lines across your palms.

You have no idea how long this wretched rain will go on for and by the looks of it, you’re in for a long haul, so you decide that you might as well make yourself comfortable.

Letting out a loud sigh and muttering a string of expletives under your breath, you put your bags down on the counter of the ramen shop. Your stomach grumbles as you take a seat on one of stools, your eyes falling upon the menu chart stuck to the wall, with names of all sorts of ramen variants written on it, complete with matching bright pictures alongside.

Hot ramen. That sounds so good right now.

But taking a peek inside your purse, you’re met with disappointment. You’d only come out with enough money for your errands and with what you have left, the best you can get is one candy. And not even the good kind.

You sit waiting with your drenched clothes sticking to your body, drops of water rolling down from the tips of your hair to your lap. Out ahead, the rain is creating puddles of water on the street, and you watch the rush of pedestrians hurrying to get home, eager to avoid ending up in your state.

If it weren’t for all these bags, you might have been able to do the same.

Someone runs past you, sending a big splash of water to your feet as you retreat further into your stool, letting out another sigh.

Of course, this happens to me.

Your plan was to finish all your errands and pick up some stuff for lunch. Your busy schedule hadn’t allowed you to cook yourself a nice meal in a long time and you really wanted to use this weekend off to cook yourself something delicious, have a glass of wine, read a book and relax within the comfort of your home. The home which you barely got to spend any time in these days. But of course, you’re stuck out in the streets in the pouring rain instead.

You remain sitting for you’re not sure how long. The streets have long cleared up. The same however cannot be said for the rain, which has only grown worse in the past half an hour. You’re frustrated out of your mind, counting sheep in your head when suddenly, the frame of a familiar figure on the road catches your eye. Your heart instinctively does a flip at the sight of the silver haired man, who seems to be walking towards you in slow, careless saunter.

You feel the panic in your throat rise and steadily grow into a lump. This day has been horrible enough already, without the disaster of Kakashi seeing you in this pitiful state to add to it. You’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of him more times than you’d like to admit, thanks to your awkward, clumsy self and you don’t need it again, especially not today. There’s just something about Kakashi that makes the wiring in your brain go completely haywire, causing you to end up acting like an imbecile every single time you're around him.

You straighten up in your stool as you see him nearing, tucking a clump of wet hair behind your ear as the thud inside your heart grows louder and louder with each of his approaching steps. But before you’re able to steady your breath, he’s right outside the shop, lifting the white banner to let himself in.

“Y/n?” he exclaims, folding his umbrella and shaking it off as takes your sight in. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

He’s standing closer to you than your heart can take and you clear your throat before answering.

“Oh, I just… came out for errands and didn’t anticipate the rain.” You say, rolling your eyes and glancing at the cluster of bags behind you. You watch his eyes dart towards them before returning to you. “You look like you did, though” you say, pointing at the umbrella in his hand with a smile.

He looks down, shaking his head, “Ah, that’s just my ninken. They have a nose for this sort of thing, so they let me know beforehand.” He says, returning your smile.

You watch the way his mask creases as he smiles, the air surrounding you falling into a comfortable silence as you watch him in awe, a stupid grin plastered across your face. It almost feels like you’re having a moment, and it could’ve been a good one, had your stomach not let out a loud, hungry growl in the middle of it.

Your demeanour changes immediately, the grin on your face receding as your eyebrows shoot up and you feel a warm rush creep its way to your cheeks.

Kakashi lets out a chuckle, looking otherwise unaffected. “It seems like you’re hungry.” he says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, I uh…” you fumble, averting your eyes to avoid looking at him, “didn’t have breakfast today.”

“Well, come on then.” Kakashi replies flatly, nodding his head towards the direction of the street. Beyond him, the clouds are grumbling, the rain still falling in a steady splatter.

You look up at his words, the thud in your heart making itself known once again. “Come… where?”

He looks at you as if you asked him what the color of grass is.

“Well you didn’t think I was gonna leave you out here, did you?” he asks, his tone implying that you shouldn’t even have thought of such a stupid question.

“Well i was actually pretty much preparing to spend the night here today” you reply with a relieved chuckle, before jumping down from your stool.

"Sorry to spoil your plans, then" he says and you turn around, reaching for the bags on the counter but Kakashi gets to them before you. “Let me” he interjects, pulling the heavy bags down from the counter as if they were cotton.

“You take this” he commands, holding the umbrella out to you as he distributes your bags evenly between each of his hands.

In spite of the somersaults that your stomach is making inside your body, you feel pretty grateful to have run into him.

“I have to say, I’m kind of glad you came along” you say, flashing him a big grin and watching his eyes beam with a shy smile as you take the umbrella from him, turning around to face the rain outside, which all of a sudden, doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Kakashi stands close behind you as you stretch out the umbrella and hold it above your heads, both of you stepping out onto the wet slippery street.

You balance it high enough so it covers Kakashi’s head and make your way ahead, trying your best not to step into any puddles.

“My place is just around the corner” he remarks, crouching ever so slightly and nestling close to you to fit himself under the umbrella. “We’ll be there within five minutes.”

That’s a damn shame is what you want to say, but instead, you just nod.

The umbrella is too small for the both of you to be cramped under, and you can’t help the constant bumping of your arms with each alternate step.

Every nerve in your body is high on alert, exceedingly aware of Kakashi’s proximity to you and with every light brush of his bare forearm against yours, you feel a shiver run through your skin, the hair in your arm standing up in consequence. You wonder if Kakashi can feel it, but you suppose even if he did, it could just be blamed on the strong gusts of cold wind.

“The rain is kind of beautiful though, isn’t it?” you interrupt, more to distract yourself than anything else.

Kakashi turns his face, peering down at you as his mouth drawls into a slow smile. “It sure is.” he says, and it almost feels like he wants to add something more, but he doesn’t.

Raindrops pound heavily down on the umbrella covering you, its rhythmic sound matching the beats of your own heart. You continue walking without exchanging any more words, the silence between you cut only by the rain, your heartbeat and the squeaky noise of your slippers.

You put all your concentration into fixating your gaze on the ground, attempting not only to make sure you avoid an embarrassing slip or a fall, but to ignore the little voice in your head. The voice that has constantly been whispering into your ears, planting all sorts of seeds in your mind about what it would be like, to just reach your hand out right now and grip Kakashi’s hand, which is so so close to you, intertwining his long fingers with yours.

You shake your head, shoving the temptation away and look up at Kakashi, scooting closer to ensure you don’t push him out into the rain.

For someone cramped under a small umbrella in the heavy rain, carrying another person’s bags, you notice that he looks quite…unbothered. Up this close, you cannot help observing how beautiful his eyelashes are, and you resist, for the hundredth time, the urge to press yourself against him and litter his face with kisses.

Your reverie is broken, and thankfully so by the sound of his voice. “We’re here”, he says, stopping in front of an old building and pushing open the small iron gate with his foot, stepping aside to let you in first.

You might be making this up, but you think you heard him sound almost disappointed.

You gaze up at the white four storeyed building in front of you. The jounin headquarters. Being a chunnin yourself, you’ve never been here before. And until today, you never thought you would any time soon, especially under this kind of a circumstance.

Stepping inside under the shade, you close the umbrella, finding yourself wishing that the jounin quarters weren’t quite so close by. Kakashi follows in after you with the bags and the both of you make your way up a long winding staircase. The metal bannister looks rusty, like it hasn’t been furnished in a long time. You climb up three flights of stairs, before stopping outside a door on the fourth floor.

Looking around, you notice that there are two more doors other than Kakashi’s on this floor, but they seem to be unoccupied. Your damp clothes cling to your skin and you can feel a small chill run through you.

“I feel kind of bad, intruding upon you like this” you say, rubbing your arms and waiting as Kakashi scours his pocket for the keys. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Just a lonely afternoon”, he answers reassuringly, before jamming a key into the lock and pushing the door open.

“Come on in”, he says as you step inside, taking the view of his living room in and telling yourself again and again that you really are in Kakashi Hatake’s apartment. It’s a small one, but well maintained and with minimal clutter. Behind you, Kakashi hangs his wet vest on a hook in the wall and keeps your bags down on the floor.

“y/n you’re shivering”, he says in a concerned tone, looking up at your shuddering body dripping water all over his floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m making such a mess” you say, noticing the small puddle of water that has formed near your feet. “Do you have a towel or anything I could wipe this off with?” you ask, your face borrowing the look of an apologetic dog who’s made a mess on the carpet.

“Leave all that to me” Kakashi says, waving you off and guiding you towards his bathroom by your shoulders. “Go take a hot shower and get changed into some warm clothes. Can’t have a shinobi of the Leaf fall sick under my watch.”

His tone is enough to make you melt into a mush and you comply, stepping into his bathroom as he disappears into another room. “Towels are in the shelf!” you hear him yell as you study his bathroom cabinet. Like his living room, his bathroom cabinet is also devoid of any clutter and only occupied by the bare essentials.

You turn the switch to the geyser on, waiting for the water to get hot as Kakashi reappears in the doorway, clutching a pair of his clothes. “Here”, he says, holding the clothes out to you. “I suppose they will be a little loose on you, but—”

“It’s perfect.”, you cut him off. “Thank you, Kakashi. I’m really… I’m really thankful for this.” You say, taking the clothes from him.

“It’s no big deal” he smiles. “I’ll be outside” he says and you nod, closing the door.

The water is just the right amount of warm and you take a blissful shower, the bliss of the moment only intensified by the realisation that you, Y/n, are really in Kakashi Hatake’s house. Not just in his house, but also in his bathroom, using his towels and wearing his clothes.

You wipe yourself dry, hanging your discarded clothes on the rack beside an already hanging trouser and slip yourself into the fresh pair of clothes. It’s a baggy grey t shirt and navy blue trousers, both quite loose against your frame. The t shirt runs past your thighs but the trousers thankfully have strands which you have tied tightly enough, so you hope they won’t slip down any time soon.

You catch a glimpse of your face in the cabinet mirror and find yourself glowing. But more than your skin, it’s probably your heart giving you that glow. You pull the shirt up to your nose, inhaling the smell in. It smells just like you thought Kakashi would. Comforting… familiar, like something that makes you feel at home. Like the smell of crayons from your childhood, or freshly baked cookies.

Smiling to yourself and revelling in the pure comfort and warmth of his clothes, you step out, fanning your wet hair out with your hand

A delicious smell hits your nose almost immediately, and you’re reminded of how completely starved you are.

You step further into the dining area, and find Kakashi in the kitchen adjacent to it, doing something on the gas. You notice that he’s changed into a pair of fresh clothes too, and seeing him in anything other than his uniform for the first time makes something flip inside you.

He turns around, his eyes lighting up immediately as he catches sight of you. You watch him look you up and down, before breaking into a boyish chuckle.

“What?” you ask confused, looking at him and then down at yourself. “Oh crap, I’m wearing the shirt inside out, Jesus!” you say, huffing as you attempt to make a turn back towards the bathroom.

“Oh, no that’s not it” you hear Kakashi object behind you, shaking his head.

You stop at the sound of his voice, turning around as he speaks. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Although… you do look a little funny”

You narrow your eyes at Kakashi and he raises his hands up in defence. “Just a little!” he protests as you make an eyeroll in reply, before pressing on. “What is it, then?”

You watch his muscles tense up ever so slightly, as he flips something on the pan a few times before looking back at you, his dark eyes sombre.

“No, like...” he fumbles, “it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” He says softly.

You feel a warm rush of blood creep up to your cheeks as you look down, burning under the intensity of his gaze. Your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as you scour your brain to come up with something, anything to say.

Thankfully for you, the oven timer dings, attracting his attention away from you and putting you out of your quandary.

“What’s that?” you ask, drawing nearer to him to take a peek at everything he seems to have strewn about on the kitchen counter.

His words still ring at the back of your mind, lying in a thick cloak around you, making your heart beat faster than it usually does, even around him.

“It’s nothing much, you were hungry, so…I just whipped something up.” he says, but judging by the smell, you’re pretty sure that it’s nothing he has “just whipped up”.

“It smells delicious, Kakashi”, you say, almost feeling yourself choking up. You cannot recall the last time someone had prepared a meal for you. And now, here you are, standing in Kakashi Hatake’s kitchen, and he had not only saved your pitiful ass from the rain and invited you to his house and let you shower at his place but he had also cooked a meal for you. For YOU, with his own two hands.

You feel your stomach twisting and turning in all sorts of ways, but it’s not just the hunger. It’s something else and the realisation dawns upon you that if it’d mean ending up in Kakashi’s kitchen in this way again, you’d gladly be stranded in the cold rain out on the streets a thousand times over, and then a hundred more.

His voice breaks you out of your trance for the second time that day and you look up at him, his beautiful face formed into the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. He holds a hand out, gesturing towards the table where he seems to have carefully laid out two plates.

“Come on, let’s eat?” he says, and you follow along, thanking the universe silently in your heart for making it rain today.

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi fanfiction #hatake kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi x reader fluff #kakashi fluff #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #kakashi fanfic #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi headcanons #Naruto headcanons #kakashi scenarios #kakashi imagines #naruto scenarios #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader fanfiction

[winterscaptain]

co-regulating.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: following balancing out, an anon asked about aaron and mom’s first time after her recovery, so here it is!! our first fic of 2021! and it’s smut. who’s surprised? not me!! i’m doing blog housekeeping this weekend, so let me know if you want to be on taglist!

words: 1.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, creampie, very soft, quite tame), mentions of canon-typical injury and recovery, language

summary: “scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” - cormac mccarthy, all the pretty horses. au!march 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed, and slide under the covers, immediately rolling halfway onto Aaron and pulling his lips to yours. 

He makes a little surprised noise and takes the back of your head in his hand, his other arm wrapping around your lower back. You run your fingers up his abdomen under his shirt, finally landing with your palm over his racing heart. 

“Did you take your meds?” You whisper against his mouth. It wasn’t like him to forget, but his pulse had to be higher than a hundred. That might be alright for someone actively running a marathon, but for a fifty-two-year-old stabbing survivor with chronic health issues due to said stabbing it was less so. 

He laughs. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really. You’re fucking tachycardic.” 

He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “That’s your fault. And yes, I did take my meds.” 

You hum. “Good.” 

“Any reason in particular you ask?” He’s still the picture of fond skepticism - eyebrows raised and a little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. 

You shrug. “Just got some clearances from physical therapy today.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm.” Your hand slides down past the waistband of his sweats, palming his cock through the fabric. He hisses through his teeth, his hips tipping up, searching for more contact. 

His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him over his pants, your touch gentle and slow. He swallows thickly, his breath stuttering for a moment. “Are you allowed?”

“I have to take it easy,” you tell him. “But I’m allowed.” 

He reaches down for your thigh, brushing up to your ass, and he inhales again, sharp, when he realizes you’re wearing one of his shirts and one of his shirts only. You oblige him and shift to straddle him, settling down against him and circling your hips for just a little friction. 

Aaron’s fingers play with the hem and a little flash of anxiety jolts through your belly. He sees it in your face and lets go, dropping his hands to your hips. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head. “Just got nervous about the scarring. I’m fine.” 

Aaron tilts his head to the right, studying you. “Do you want to leave your shirt on? It’s okay if you do.” 

“I know.” You take a deep breath and remove your shirt, your ribs only pulling a little as you lift your arms over your head. “But I’m good.” 

Of course he’s seen you - he’s the one who dealt with your wound care when you got home - but this is the first real sex you’ve attempted since your injury. It’s silly to feel insecure, really. Aaron loves you from top to toe and you know it. He’s also got scars of his own, and you know they don’t impact the way you see him, but it’s new to you. 

Scary. 

Aaron’s hands slide up to your waist, his right thumb just brushing the angry, raised scar over your left side. You run your hands down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms. The pair of you just sit there for a moment, breathing together. 

Co-regulating. You remember. That’s what this is called. 

“Can I turn on the little light?” He asks. 

You nod, knowing he can see you. One of his hands leaves you and stretches, sliding the dimmer on the bedside lamp just bright enough that you can see each other, but not so bright that it’s harsh. 

His eyes soften as they wander from your hips, up your abdomen, and finally meet yours, watching him look at you. He wets his lips as he shamelessly checks you out and heat floods you from head to toe. You know he can feel it when you start to throb between your legs, your center pressed against his hardness. 

“There you are.” His hands slide up, reaching your chest, brushing over your nipples with his thumbs. “I missed you.” 

You smile, despite yourself. “Hi.” 

When you nod, he presses his hips up into you and you lift up, giving him space to slide his pajama pants down enough to free his cock. 

You settle back over him, grinding without letting him enter you as you slide against him. Bring a hand to the back of his head, winding your fingers in his hair while your other hand rests on his shoulder for balance. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Aaron’s head tips back and gentle hands guide your hips back and forth, coating him in your arousal. His next words come through an almost-desperate gasp. “I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

There’s something in his voice that makes your breath catch, brings tears to your eyes. His eyes snap open and meet yours, his hands leaving your hips with fingers open and palms out. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I think this is what the kids call catharsis.” 

He laughs a little and sits up, kicking his pants all the way off and gingerly pulling both of you to the top of the bed so he can lean against the headboard and bring a leg up behind you. “C’mere, honey.” 

You melt into his chest, picking yourself up a little and slinging your arms around his shoulders. You feel his hand between you, guiding himself into you. 

You tense with a little hiss through your teeth, and he stills. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” You kiss his cheek. “Just gotta go slow.”

He presses his cheek to yours, his other hand brushing over your back. “Okay. At your pace, sweetheart.” 

You finally sink down with a deep breath, taking all of him. 

The hand that was between you slides up around your back, finding a place at the back of your neck and holding you close. Aaron barely moves, thrusting up into you just as far as he can without jostling you too much, taking all your weight on his hips while supporting you with his thigh. 

You take a shaky breath, the tightness in your throat hanging on until you let yourself cry into his shirt. Nothing hurts more than it should given your injuries, you’re not sad, but you missed him. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, pressing his lips to your shoulder. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. The hand on your hip begins to guide you so he can pull out further before sliding back in. You whimper. 

The feeling of him moving within you is achingly familiar; he feels more like an extension of your own body than a separate being. 

There’s no hurry, no rush, no aim in his movement. Neither one of you tries to get anywhere, preferring the proximity to anything else. You literally can’t get closer to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel the pleasure and pressure behind your cheekbones, in your aching ribs.

He’s a perfect fit. Always has been. 

You tuck your face impossibly further into his neck, your lips locked to his pulse point, as your tears subside. 

His heart rate has slowed significantly, beating steadily, without haste, under his skin. He wraps further around you, the hand on your hip crawling up your back to meet the other between your shoulders. 

He doesn’t mean to, but he crushes you a little to his chest and you flinch, your ribs twinging. 

Immediately, his hands disappear and he stills. You lean back and press your palms to his chest for stability, breathing as deeply as you can with your eyes squeezed shut until the pain passes. You open your eyes to Aaron’s concern, guilt coloring the lines around his eyes. 

Bringing your hands to his face, you rub the tension away with your thumbs. “I’m okay, love. Just a little gentler. It’s okay.” 

His eyes flutter shut, but you keep your eyes and hands on his face as you lift yourself again, feeling the intoxicating drag of him against your walls before you drop back down. He lets out the breath he was holding as he bottoms out again, his hands returning to your waist. 

You lean forward, your foreheads meeting and noses brushing. His hands drop to your hips, guiding them to that angle that always leaves you both wanting for air no matter the pace.

Without fail, you find it together and the ribbons of pleasure curl up your spine, unhurried and gentle. You let out a breathless moan and Aaron steals it from you, capturing your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you drop your hands from his face to the nape of his neck, your fingers winding into his hair. 

The pace never changes, remains slow and meandering, even as you both get closer to the edge. You almost don’t want to finish - didn’t think you would, really - but the pleasure nevertheless builds in your lower belly, your walls throbbing in time with your heart.

Aaron’s thumbs pass back and forth over your skin where they work your hips against him. 

You reach your peak first, his precision and consistency tipping your body into a rush of pleasure that takes your breath and your vision. Aaron never frees your mouth, swallowing your cries as they leave you. 

“Good, baby. Just want to make you feel good.” It’s a mumble as he finally wanders away from your lips, wandering down your jaw. 

His command of your body prolongs your orgasm, drawing it out to a constant dull hum that thrums through you. 

Aaron never falters for a second. You know he’s entirely focused on you, but he told you once that the focus only makes it better. The effect of your pleasure on him is clear when you open your eyes, even weighed down as they are by sensation. 

Aaron’s eyes are closed, his breath leaving him in time with his movement inside you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You fall forward into him again and his arms wind around you, gentle and mindful. 

His orgasm seems to surprise him a little, his hips and breath stutter as he thrusts up and pulls you down by the hips, spilling deep into you with a short groan. You gasp at the pressure, the last dregs of your own orgasm fluttering through you with renewed purpose. 

The two of you continue to move against each other as you come down, your body feeling looser and almost without pain for the first time in three months. Aaron’s hands trace up your back, smoothing over your skin and setting it alight. He softens inside you, but doesn’t leave your heat. 

Aaron curls forward, pressing his lips to your collarbone and wandering down your chest. You let yourself tip back, supported by his hands, as he continues down your body until he reaches the new scar. His lips pass over it three or four times before you feel a firm, but gentle, kiss right over the center. 

He straightens, bringing a hand to your face. “I love you.” 

The words sound so simple in his mouth. They make you smile. 

“I love you, too.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass  @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @brittanymcsharry

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

[kyber-queen]

burning (fives x gn!jedi!reader)

Summary: A retelling of the Umbara arc where reader is assigned to the 501st to assist in the Umbara invasion. Established relationship with Fives, Krell is an ass to reader and Fives is Not Having It, couples that defend one another stay together, lil bit of fluff lil bit of angst lil bit of action we got it ALL

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, medical stuff, mentions of death/injury, Krell is just an ASSHOLE to the reader, a lil kiss perhaps 

Author’s Note: This idea has been stuck in my head for AGES, and now I finally have it on paper!! This was really fun to write, as always ANY comments/feedback/questions would be HIGHLY appreciated !! ALSO: ner kar’ta means my heart in Mando’a !!

***

A rumble of murmurs rolled through the battalion of troopers at the sight of the interim general of the 501st. Pong Krell, Fives had identified from behind you. You watched warily as the besalisk exited the dropship, his hulking form broad and dark against the soft glow of the natural vegetation. You fell silent as he spoke with General Skywalker. The newcomer unnerved you. Skywalker seemed hesitant to leave his troops behind—you didn’t blame him. The council had insisted you accompany the 501st to assist with the march on Umbara’s capitol, and even with your short time stationed directly in the unit you had seen firsthand Skywalker’s devotion to his troopers. The prospect of leaving them under the command of the rather imposing figure before him must be daunting.

You snapped to attention as Skywalker introduced you and the Captain, your eyes meeting Krell’s for a moment as he appraised you. His gaze turned your stomach. 

He was a Jedi master, you reminded yourself. He had the respect and trust of the council, and as Skywalker turned to leave, you reluctantly acknowledged that he had the General’s trust as well. You shifted a quick glance behind you, seeking out Fives. He stood at attention, his shoulders squared. You’d talk to him later, you figured.

“Commander, will I be graced with the honor of your full attention, or do you have more pressing matters at hand?”

Condescension dripped from Krell’s tone. Your cheeks heated, and you quickly turned to face the new General.

“My apologies, sir,”.

Krell harrumphed, continuing on with his speech.

You watched the troopers’ faces fall as he ordered them to stand at attention when speaking to him. Krell seemed to be a fierce disciplinarian—you doubted there would be much tolerance for open discussion with the besalisk in charge. Still, he ran a highly successful battalion. His leadership style differed greatly from Skywalker’s, but he had the success rates to back up his different strategies. It’ll only be one mission, you figured. How bad could it be?

Krell finished his speech with a sharp nod of his head, ordering the troopers to move out. You lingered in the rear, giving Krell a respectful nod as he wrapped up his discussion with the Captain. Now was as good a time as any to make a more personal introduction.

“General Krell, the council sent me here to—”

“I know why you’re here, Commander. As far as my understanding goes, you are to act as a tactical assistant. I will let you know if I need any such assistance. Dismissed,”.

You frowned, turning away and taking a few jogging paces to catch up with the men. Was it just you, or did the new general seem rather indifferent? You brushed away your thoughts as the terrain rose up to meet the steady pace of your feet.

“Fives,” you called, his helmet whipping around at the sound of your voice. He motioned for his brothers to slow down, allowing you to catch up. You quickened your pace, closing the gap between the two of you. 

“So, what do you think of the interim General?” He asked, looking back to his brothers for just a moment as if in reassurance.

“Strict, and almost dismissive” you noted, “but I’m sure his intentions are good,”.

Fives nodded, slipping off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as you walked.

“Me ‘n Jesse were just talking—Krell has the highest casualty rate in the GAR,”.

Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ as you acknowledged the concerned look on Fives’s face.

His voice lowered, so only you could hear.

“It’s over 50%, ner kar’ta. He’s reckless, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I—”

You silenced him with a gentle touch to his upper arm, in between the gap in his armor. His eyes drifted to your hand against his skin, and then back to your face. His expression softened.

“I know it’s going to be difficult—honestly, I don’t entirely trust him either—but Skywalker and the council do. We aren’t going to be able to pull this invasion off if everybody isn’t on the same page,”.

Fives nodded hesitantly. You gave him a soft smile in response. The two of you trudged on.

***

After hours of crossing inhospitable terrain, fending off native creatures, and surviving an enemy ambush, your patience with Krell was wearing thin. In the past few hours, he had shown a total disregard for the lives of the men under his command as well as your own rank in the battalion. When you seconded Rex’s call for a scouting party, the General all but laughed in your face. Your opinion meant next to nothing to him. Without the extra reconnaissance, hundreds of men died today. Unnecessarily. You burned. Rex and Fives echoed your frustrations, both men airing their grievances with the interim General.

Rex spoke first, raisng the question of Krell’s inconsiderate and dangerous tactics. He was right, you thought. Krell had crossed a line with his reckless strategies.

The General was less than receptive to Rex’s input, jabbing his large finger into the man’s chest as punctuation to his harsh words. You opened your mouth to remind the General that, according to the Jedi council, you were still his tactical advisor and that you had also adamantly disagreed with his strategies before he dismissed your opinion. Before you could speak, Fives strode up to the General, speaking in fierce defense of his captain.

“General Krell, in case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that,”.

Krell’s lips twisted into a sneer, and he ignited his lightsaber menacingly. Your hand instinctively flew to your own saber on your belt clip as you stepped forward in defense of Fives, the weapon igniting in your hand.

“ARC-5555, stand down,” Krell ordered. His gaze flitted over to you, noting the saber in your hand and the thinly concealed fury in your eyes with a smirk. “And Commander, put that out before someone loses an eye,”.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Fives murmured, exchanging a glance with you as you hesitantly switched off your saber.

Krell dismissed the platoon with a smug grin.

You grabbed Fives’ vambrace, dragging him behind a large swatch of vegetation. He removed his helmet, taking a seat on the ground next to you. He sighed deeply. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent—he looked tired. 

You wanted to yell. You wanted to complain. You knew neither of you needed that right now. 

You reached up to cup Fives’s face in your hand, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb gently.

“When we get back, I’ll issue a report to the council on Krell’s neglectful treatment,” you murmured, offering what comfort you could.

Fives shook his head.

“It’s no use—what’s the council going to do? Give him a slap on the wrist? It’s not just Krell, ner kar’ta. To the majority of officers here, we’re expendable. One man dies, but there’s three more finishing up their training on Kamino and ready to take his place. I wish they’d realize—”. Fives trailed off with a sigh, and his soft brown eyes met yours.

You gave him a sad little smile.

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Fives’ hand moved up to rest lightly against your cheek, his other hand holding the small of your back softly as he returned your kiss with a small grin.

A twig snapped.

You leapt away from each other as if you had both been burned.

You looked around, searching the darkness for a hidden figure. Heavy footsteps sounded to your right.

Before you could turn to follow the noise, blaster fire echoed to your left. Fives slipped his helmet over his head, yanking you back behind the vegetation. Your saber ignited, and the sky lit up with crossfire.

***

After receiving new information from Kenobi, the battered 501st made its weary way to the Umbaran airbase. Under Krell’s command the casualty rate had increased tenfold for this mission alone—the battalion medics were stretched thin. You did what you could to ease the pain of the wounded. Spotting a ridge, Krell motioned for you and the Captain to follow him.

“We’ll advance along the central gorge, and engage their forces in a full-forward assault,” Krell ordered.

You exchanged a look with Rex, who re-examined the terrain with his scope.

“The gorge is narrow, sir. We’ll only be able to move our platoons in single squads,” Rex explained.

We’ll be sitting ducks entering single-file down that gorge, you thought.

“Perhaps a closer recon will tell us if there’s a more secure route,” Rex suggested.

“I agree with the Captain,” you stated. “With the numbers we’ve lost earlier today, we can’t afford to risk the lives of the men we have left with a full-forward assault,” you supplemented.

Krell frowned.

“Obi-Wan and the other battalions are holding off the enemy right now, while they wait for us to take out this base. We don’t have time to look for a more secure route,”. 

Krell turned away with finality.

Rex shook his head, turning back toward his men.

This isn’t right, you thought. You jogged to catch up with the General.

“General Krell,” you called.

“What is it, Commander?” he grumbled.

“I’d like to talk to you about possibly reconsidering the full-forward strategy. A short reconnaissance mission could provide vital information in taking this base, and it could possibly save the lives of many of our men,”. Your hands twitched anxiously.

“Our men, hmm? A charming sentiment, Commander,”.

Your brows furrowed. When you next spoke, there was a new intensity to your voice.

“Forgive me for being forward, General, but it isn’t a sentiment. Each trooper we lose is a life that we were responsible for protecting. It is in everyone’s best interest to go forward with the reconnaissance. As your tactical advisor, I strongly suggest you consult with Captain Rex to put together a small recon team,”.

Krell chuckled to himself.

“Everyone’s best interest. Amusing. We’ll proceed with the full-forward assault as planned,”.

You fumed.

“Sir, as your tactical advisor, I insist that you initiate the formation of a reconnaissance team. I do not understand why you fail to realize the gravity of this situation,”.

There was a spark to Krell’s eyes, now. You had angered him. He paused. You held your breath.

“Forgive me for being forward, Commander, but I do not place much weight on the opinion of someone whoring themself out for a clone. I’m sure you understand how this situation appears to me,”.

You sucked in a sharp breath. It had been him in the darkness. You were certain of it. Your chest burned.

“I-I apologize, General,”.

Krell nodded dismissively. You turned away, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He knew. You’d get expelled from the order, Fives would get reconditioned if he was lucky, and you had no clue what to do about it. You stepped away.

“Oh, and Commander?”

You turned back to face the General, hastily wiping at your face. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you want to remain in your current station, you would do well not to disobey my orders again,”.

Krell was blackmailing you.

You nodded.

“Yes, sir,”.

You stumbled down the hill as fast as you could, spotting Fives amongst a gathering of troopers. He noticed a tear streaking your face, and pulled you away from the crowd. As soon as the two of you were alone, you spoke.

“He knows, Fives. Krell knows about us. He saw us, when we were away from the rest of the platoon, after he threatened you. Maker, I—” Another tear slipped down your cheek as you fought to catch your breath.

“Slow down, ner kar’ta, are you sure? How do you know?”

Fives’ eyes, soft and calm, met your teary ones. You scrubbed at your face hurriedly.

“I went to talk to him after he proposed the full-forward assault without a recon,” you spoke, your voice wavering less this time. “He wasn’t receptive to my explanation, so I asked him why. He said he ‘didn’t place weight on the opinion of someone whoring themself out for a clone,’”.

Fives’ eyes went wide.

“He said that to you?”

You nodded.  “He knows,”.

Fives gripped your shoulders tightly.

“Stay here. I’m going to—” Fives started towards the hill, looking up to where Krell stood with an expression of pure rage on his face. A palm to his chest stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t. I think he’s blackmailing me—I don’t think he’ll tell, as long as I don’t question his orders,” you explained.

Fives cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You really believe that?”

“I have to. What choice do I have?”

Fives shook his head, checking to make sure you were truly alone before pulling you into a tight embrace. You sighed into his shoulder.

“He won’t get away with this, ner kar’ta. I promise you,”.

***

Your hands shook. You had taken the airbase, the supply ship had been destroyed, and it still wasn’t enough for Krell. You remembered when Fives landed the Umbaran fighter just an hour ago, how relieved you had been when he made it back alive. That relief was gone, now. Krell had ordered him to be court-marshalled for disobeying orders. Rex had assured you he would assume responsibility, that he would talk to Krell, and that Fives would be okay. He came back minutes later with a weary face and news that threatened to rend your heart from its chest. He had received an order of execution for Fives and Jesse. You had to talk to Krell—beg on your hands and knees if you had to—you had to get that order reversed, nevermind Krell’s warning not to question his orders. You had to try.

You stood outside the command center, attempting to steady your countenance. One trembling finger pressed the button to open the door.

“General, we need to talk,”.

“What troubles you, Commander?” Krell didn’t even bother to turn around.

“I demand that you overturn the order of execution for ARC-5555 and CT-5597,” you stated firmly.

Krell chuckled.

“We both know you’re in no position to make such demands, Commander,” Krell sighed to himself. “I had hoped you would heed my earlier warning. I should have known it would fall on deaf ears,”.

“General, you are sending two innocent men to their deaths,”.

Krell glanced around, noticing the surrounding clones closely watching your exchange.

“Troopers, leave us,”.

The men filed out of the room quickly, leaving you alone with the General.

“You should be thanking me, Commander,” Krell mused. “Last time I checked, wasn’t attachment cause to be expelled from the Jedi order? Exterminating this clone solves both of our problems,”.

You shook your head.

“They won’t do it. They won’t execute them,”.

Krell hummed, considering your statement.

“Maybe so—but these men will be put to death, even if I have to carry it out myself,”. A twisted smile split Krell’s face as he spoke.

You ignited your saber, your tone fierce and unyielding.

“I won’t let you,”.

Krell tilted his head, both his sabers lighting up in his hands.

“Make your decision carefully, Commander. You’ll be expelled from the Order. You’ll lose everything,”.

Without Fives, you had nothing left to lose.

You swung.

Krell outmatched you with both speed and power. Each of your attacks was met by his blade. You growled. He parried your strike, landing a blow to your cheek with his fist. Your vision swam.

You were on the defensive now. You blocked two consecutive strikes from Krell’s sabers, grunting as he forced your blade closer and closer to your face. You scrambled for footing.

“It’s disappointing, really,” Krell hummed, his voice alarmingly casual. “Wasted potential,”.

Krell swung his unoccupied fist into the side of your head, the force of the blow carrying you across the room. Your saber clattered to the floor. You reached for your hilt, but just as your fingertips curled around the metal, an invisible hand grabbed you by the throat. Your body lifted from the cold durasteel floor, your toes barely brushing its surface. The pressure around your neck tightened. You clutched at your throat, darkness creeping around the edges of your vision. His eyes locked on yours, golden and eerie.

“You’re…Sith,” you choked out.

Krell chuckled.

“Not quite, my dear Commander,”.

Krell’s sneer was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark. You dropped to the floor.

Krell sighed, waving open the command center door. He motioned for the troopers to re-enter before gesturing at your unconscious body with another uninterested wave of his hand.

“Take them to the brig,”.

***

Fives walked to his execution with his head held high. He joked with Jesse, hoping to ease his brother’s mind as they marched towards their uncertain fate. He tried to be strong. All he could think about was you.

Two soldiers had carried you into the brig, placing you gently into your cell just as Fives was led out of the room. He caught a glimpse of your face before he left—you were bruised and unconscious. What had you done? What had Krell done? The markings on your face could not have been left by a Jedi.

As his closest brothers marched in with their blasters, his heart ached. He couldn't meet his end this way. Not while you and his brothers were still in danger. He needed to do something, and he needed to do it quickly. To save his brothers. To save you.

Dogma asked if he’d like to be blindfolded.

Reality sunk in. It was now or never.

They aimed. Fives spoke.

“Wait! This is wrong. And we all know it. The general is making a mistake, and he needs to be called on it. No clone should have to go out this way—we are loyal soldiers, we follow orders, but we are not a bunch of unthinking droids. We are men. We must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we are given are wrong,”.

Fives sucked in a breath, hoping his words were enough.

“Fire!”

Not a single shot met its target. Fives breathed a sigh of relief.

As he and Jesse walked back to the brig, the question of his fate as well as yours still plagued him. He was sure you had ignored Krell’s warning not to question his orders—that must have been why you were so bruised and battered. Fives’s real question was why Krell had left you in such a brutalized state. No Jedi would have been so physically cruel. Fives’s blood boiled.

He re-entered his cell, curling up against the left wall. He could see your unconscious form in the cell next to him. He made careful note of every visible bruise and scrape on your body. Your neck was beginning to shade a deep purple color, and you sported a black eye. Each little mark fueled the fire of Fives’s anger tenfold. Krell needed to pay. To think that the man had even touched you, let alone battered you in such away, was enough to burn at Fives’s chest. He needed revenge. He spent the next few hours carefully monitoring your breathing, wishing he could reach out to touch you through the ray shield, wishing he could offer you the same comfort you always gave to him.

When Rex reappeared hours later, explaining that the era of Krell’s leadership had reached its end, Fives jumped at the chance to bring him in. With each new sliver of information Rex shared with him, Fives felt his anger at the besalisk grow. The so-called Jedi had targeted the two people he had cared about most—you and his brothers. As he checked his weapon and strapped on his armor, his expression set into a steely glare. Krell wouldn’t live to destroy any more lives—Fives would make sure of it.

***

The trees rustled with blaster fire and movement. Krell was everywhere. Fives heard the screams of his brothers over the comm—he took each one to heart. He would be ready.

“Steady your weapons—he’s headed our way,” Rex called.

Fives locked in his scope.

The general emerged in a blur of brightly lit plasma. Fives fired. Each shot was easily deflected by the Jedi, his twirling sabers redirecting the bolts effortlessly. Fives growled.

The general switched off his sabers, as if taking on the platoon with his lightsabers was far too easy. His back was to Fives—Krell grabbed a nearby trooper from his cover, flinging the man into the air. Fives saw his chance.

“What are you doing?” Rex hissed. Fives paid him no mind.

He fired five rapid shots at the general’s back. Only one managed to glance off the besalisk’s thick skin. Fives charged forward, swinging his blaster into Krell’s head with all his might. On his next swing, Krell knocked the blaster from his hand with a mere wave of his arm.

So that was how he wanted to play.

Fives readied his fists, throwing and landing three consecutive punches. The besalisk doubled over on the third, caught off guard by the strength of the blow. Fives grinned from under the helmet.

“A taste of your own medicine, yeah?”

Krell rose to his full height, allowing the remark to roll off his back. He lifted Fives off the ground with an invisible hand, before tossing him unceremoniously into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Feeble clones.

Fives hauled himself up from the ground slowly, his head pounding from the collision. Krell was nowhere to be seen. Fives scanned his surroundings—none of his brothers were visible, either. Had he been knocked unconscious? He listened for blaster fire, but none could be heard. He felt around the darkened forest floor, his hand closing around the shaft of his rifle.

A voice echoed to his left.

Fives ran towards the noise. He could barely make out the sight before him through the thick Umbaran fog. His brothers had gathered in a semi-circle around the still form of the former General. He ran faster, stopping when he reached Krell’s body and sucking in a deep breath.

“I stunned him, sir,” Tup explained.

“Nice work, Tup,” Rex praised.

Fives nudged the general with the nose of his rifle. His finger itched at the trigger. Rex pulled at his arm.

“Ease up, Fives. We got him,”.

Fives exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah, we got him alright,”.

***

You woke up in medbay, your head aching and throat throbbing. You were thirsty. You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a warble. You flexed your hand, realizing it was encased in something warm. You squeezed.

Fives jolted upright. Both his hands encased yours, and his eyes widened.

“You’re awake—are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You smiled, realizing he had fallen asleep holding your hand. Your smile quickly faded when you remembered what had happened that brought you here. Your heart seized.

“K-Krell—” You managed, the words scraping at your throat.

Fives smiled softly.

“Me ‘n the boys took care of him—he’s gone. You’re okay. We’re okay,”.

You nodded as he brought your palm to his lips, kissing it gently before resting it back in your lap. He fell silent.

Your eyes glanced over his weary expression. The lines on his face had grown into canyons in two short days. You hummed, words catching in your raw throat.

“Are you alright?” you croaked.

Fives shook his head, glancing up at the ceiling before looking back down at you.

“I almost lost you, ner kar’ta. Lost a lot of good men, too. Too many men,”.

You nodded, your chest aching at the emotion in his voice. You held out your arms. He collapsed into you, mindful of your new bruises.

The guilt of so much loss was eating at him. It broke your heart. You held him tight against your chest as he murmured an apology into your skin. 

#arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives #fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper tup #captain rex #clone trooper x reader #the 501st #anakin skywalker #pong krell #my fic

[cobaincreates]

the fuck is a touron?

warnings: language, smut (wrap it you’re smart), 18+

count: 7k+

hehehehehe ;)

part two!

gif cred

— — —

“i was one hundred percent trying to teach him a lesson, but he’s too stupid to realize that you’re not supposed to lend one of my t-shirts to a random girl. god, he’s so dumb.” liza shook her head in frustration, her thumb absentmindedly scrolling along her phone screen.

“didn’t you guys used to be friends?” you asked, picturing the girl in mind. you could’ve sworn you’d seen liza with her at some point.

liza made a noise and bit her lip. “maybe he’s just trying to get back at me for something. i can’t think of anything i did though.”

“maybe they’re just messing with you. you know, because you did sleep with both of them.” liza made another dismissing noise. you took a sip from a glass she had given you from her kitchen. it was just beyond the doors behind you from where you sat on her massive deck.

you had taken it upon yourself to visit your friend before the last few weeks of summer ended. you’d see her back at school anyways, but she had asked you several times to make the trip out to see her. you’d been enjoying the ocean breeze and the hospitality of liza and her dad. it had only been a few days since you arrived; you hardly thought about leaving.

so far you had been biking around with liza through small sections of her neighborhood. she pointed out a few of her favorite spots, mostly trying to pass the days with you here, but also to make you feel welcome. she had taken you shopping off the island today, which resulted in a thousand more steps recorded on your phone and a new bathing suit to wear. you had also found a little lighthouse souvenir figure that you planned to put somewhere in your room once you got back home. you had dinner at a restaurant that liza said was one of her favorites, then you took the ferry back at sunset and now here you were, sharing a whole box of wine.

you snuggled further into your sweatshirt and pulled a pillow onto your lap. you stared out at the ocean in liza’s backyard and imagined how insane it was that she lived right on the beach. a small fire sat in front of you, warming your legs. liza put her phone down and took a large sip of her wine.

“anyone cute here? think i’d be into some east coast beach boy.” you mentioned, squinting your eyes playfully as you looked over at her.

she shrugged with her head on the back of the couch. “i mean there’s a few i went to school with, but you don’t want to mess with them.”

“how come?”

“they’re practically heartless. they’d totally leave you in the dirt.” she said. “well, sand.”

you snorted. “are you speaking from experience? because if so, i’m more than willing to get into a fight in your honor.”

“shut up.” she laughed. “you don’t want anyone from here, trust me.”

“no, trust me when i tell you that i do. i haven’t gotten laid in months and i’m crawling out of my skin.” you admitted as much as you didn’t want to. it had been a simple thought before getting on the plane to visit and you didn’t think you’d bring it up, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. even while shopping you were mostly on the prowl. they should’ve had a store to buy a one-night stand. you were on vacation, you deserved to indulge.

“i have so much pent-up frustration. i need someone to sex me right now.” you continued, drinking the rest of the wine just to add to your tipsy rambling.

“jesus.” liza stared at you.

“i don’t want to tell you this but i was literally fantasizing about your dad earlier.”

“ew!”

“i’m sorry!” you laughed. “i mean, he’s single so it’s fair game.”

“absolutely not!” she looked at you like you were crazy, and you couldn’t stop laughing as she got up to get more wine, taking your glass too.

back home, there wasn’t anybody you wanted to sleep with. you didn’t really make any friends in high school that you kept into college and it was hard when most of your friends lived in different states. sure, there were apps for hookups and for you to meet new people around you, but you had a thing about technology tracking that made your skin crawl.

liza came back less disgusted with you, handing you your glass. you sipped on it and stared at the fire, not feeling tired in the slightest from how much you walked. beside you, liza picked up her phone again and scrolled, tapped.

“i don’t know why i’m doing this, but there is someone i might be able to set you up with.” she said minutes later.

you perked up with optimism and shifted on the couch. “mhm, give me more.”

“his name’s topper.” she said, her phone illuminating her face with a white light.

“you’re kidding.” you deadpanned, your eyebrows furrowing. you figured she was joking, slipping in a harmless pun.

“i’m not.” she bit her lips together, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

“what kind of name is that?”

“could not tell you, but he’s super chill and i’m pretty sure he’s newly single.” she said, tapping a few times on her phone’s screen. “he was dating someone from his college for months, but i think they broke up since he doesn’t post pictures with her anymore.”

“i just want to fuck him. what does he look like?”

liza tapped a few more times before shining her phone at you. you squinted from the brightness before your eyes adjusted, took in the photo she was showing you. he was in front of a sunset and you could faintly pick out the dirty blonde locks. liza picked a different one that gave you a better view of him.

you let out a delighted hum, smiling slightly. “he looks like an asshole, but fun.”

“i have his number,” she said, turning the phone back to herself. you leaned your side into the couch, readjusting to keep the warmth. the fire cracked as one of the logs shifted.

“text him.” you prompted liza and scooted closer to her to watch her type on her phone. she found his contact and moved her thumbs along the screen.

hey so weird question but would u be interested in hooking up w/ my friend?

the friend in question is not me i swear

“smooth,” you said as she sent the texts.

“i can’t believe i’m helping you with this.” she locked her phone and dropped it into her lap. you shrugged and sipped from the glass, staring into the fire.

you slipped into a regular conversation with liza while she waited for a text. you weren’t giddy for a reply or asking her to check every ten seconds. it didn’t really matter that much to you if you didn’t hookup with anyone or not, you just thought you’d put it out there.

liza had you cracking up, bent over the couch and nearly falling to the floor when her father came outside onto the porch. you settled as you looked up at him, listening to him ask you both if you were doing okay and needed anything. liza was quick to shut his offer down when you gave her a look, jokingly wiggling your eyebrows at her. her dad noticed, looking between you two as you belted out laughing again, this time landing on the wooden deck. liza tried to keep her laughter in, telling her dad that you were fine and that you both were just a little drunk. he nodded and left you two alone.

“god, you suck.” she said once he was out of earshot.

you were now crying from laughter as you sat up. you wiped your eyes and climbed up onto the sofa, taking your glass from the floor. “i’m glad you invited me,” you giggled as you pulled the pillow back onto your lap. you both continued to shake with the aftershock of amusement.

“he texted me.” liza said suddenly as her phone was back in her hands.

“and?” you asked, leaning your side against the cushions. you propped your elbow on top of them and held your head against your hand.

“all he said was ‘pic’.”

“send him one.”

“okay.” she said and turned toward you, opening her camera on her phone.

“should i pose? how does my hair look?” you asked, brushing the back of it just in case it had gotten messy from falling to the floor.

“do something before i send a blurry one.” liza commanded.

you put your hand back against the side of your face and smiled lightly. liza took the photo without the flash, the fire bright enough. she set her phone down again and hit send as you watched her thumb. you watched her screen for a second then looked away, tilting the glass against your lips.

“he said ‘give her my number’.”

“fuck yes.” you said. you reached behind you for your phone, feeling around for a couple seconds before finding it. “okay, what is it?”

liza read his number aloud as you typed it in. you opened your camera and took a selfie, holding the wine glass to your lips and crossing your eyes. you typed, hiii, and hit send.

after having not touched your phone in the past few hours, you moved out of the conversation with him and replied back to a few of your friends. it wasn’t long before he texted back. you opened the message to find a photo sent back to you, tapping on it with an intrigued smile. he took his own selfie, balancing a beer bottle on his head with his own fire lighting up his face in an orange glow. you saw someone’s back behind him, your eyes trailing down to the drawstrings against his chest at the bottom of the photo.

impressive, you sent.

what’s your name?

y/n! what kind of name is topper?

rich people

thought so, you joked. are you sporting salmon shorts and sperry’s with that sweatshirt?

liza was in her own world as you texted topper. you glanced at her, finding her glass propped on her chest so she could slowly sip it. she was texting like a speed racer.

you looked back down at topper’s new message and laughed.

gray sweats and sandals

socks?

no

thank god

you watched the bubbles pop up almost immediately. they disappeared with no message then came back.

liza said u wanted to hook up?

you weren’t sure what to say back. your thumbs floated above your screen for several seconds before you decided just to be honest with him. what’s the worst that could happen?

long story short i’m needy & haven’t been laid in a while

you down?

sure when’s good for you?

“i’m going to get some ice cream.” liza said as she moved off the couch, throwing her phone down on the cushions. “you want any?”

“sure.” you said before typing.

think we’re going to the beach tomorrow so how about sometime in the afternoon? i’ll text you

sounds good, looking forward to it

“oh my god.” you said loudly, dropping your phone.

“what?” liza called from the open door. you could hear her clinking around the kitchen.

“he just sent an eggplant emoji.”

suddenly the clinking of dishes was drowned out as she laughed louder than before. you covered your face and laughed too.

—

the next morning you woke up already feeling too warm. you winced as you felt the heat radiating through your body and you peeled your eyes open. you were still on the couch outside and the sun was happily beating down on the deck. you moaned and pulled a pillow over your head. you remembered that you had finished the boxed wine with liza last night along with ice cream and decided to just sleep outside. with the alcohol and walking, your legs were not prepared to function that late at night.

you lay there for a few minutes until liza’s foot appeared and knocked right into your nose. you flinched and held it as it throbbed, sitting up to throw the pillow at her.

she jerked awake and grimaced at you and the sun. “what?”

“you just kicked me.” you said nasally. you sniffed and checked your nose as it continued to pulse. liza yawned, stretching and sitting up to look around like she forgot where she was.

“today’s going to be a good beach day if it’s this fucking hot.” she grumbled. her hair was wild atop her head, sticking out in every direction. she looked over at you as she yawned again. “breakfast and then beach?”

you nodded, your hand back in your lap as the throbbing subsided. you picked up your dirty dishes and phone and followed liza inside to eat. her dad was already cooking when you two came inside and your mouth watered at the sight of food on the counter. he provided a whole display of drinks, fruit, bread, and eggs that had you contemplating about never leaving.

liza told her dad of your plans for the day while you ate. you kept quiet as you cleared your plate, normally taking at least an hour to fully wake up in the morning. liza seemed almost too chipper in the mornings from what you witnessed. once you finished up and put your plate in the sink at liza’s dad’s request, you went to her room to fish out your new bathing suit. you changed in the bathroom and brushed your teeth along with the rest of your morning routine. you pulled on a t-shirt and shorts over your suit and tied your hair up just as liza knocked to see if you were done.

thirty minutes later, you were on your way to the beach. you held liza’s tote bag in your lap, full of snacks, waters, a speaker to connect to her phone, and towels. you were anticipating the beach, wanting to just run into the water and swim all day.

which is what you did for the next few hours. you munched on some pretzels, drank a ton of water that you had to pee several times, listened to music, and laid out in the sun. you soaked up more sunscreen than you could imagine, reapplying at least ten times. the water felt good whenever you swam to the sandbar with liza and back to the shore.

liza was on her stomach now, her hair still damp. she closed her eyes against the sun while you sat beside her and people-watched.

“when are you going to text topper?” she mumbled against her arm.

you watched an elderly couple read their respective books while sitting beside each other in folding chairs. they sat under a green umbrella, the one reading a james patterson novel with their toes poking out of the sand and the other reading a paperback of some sort with the cover twisted back and wearing a large sun hat.

“i guess i could text him now.” you said, hearing her question.

“i’ll probably head out whenever he gets here. let you two be alone.” she drawled.

you shoved at her shoulder and reached for your phone. you found topper’s conversation and typed quickly to tell him which beach you were at.

you want me to head over there?

you weren’t expecting him to text right away, but you replied back just as quickly.

yes

you put your phone back down under your shirt and lay on your stomach so you could keep an eye out for him. you looked at where the parking lot was, a large area of gravel and tall grass. people were pouring in and out of the beach, little kids in thick foam flip flops kicking up sand while older adults with mass amounts of luggage followed after them.

liza sat up, looking in the same direction and drinking from her water bottle. you flipped over onto your back and closed your eyes, listening to the crunch of sand, the distant chatter, the hush of waves.

“that’s him.” liza said beside you. you couldn’t tell how long it had been. you leaned up onto your elbows and looked behind you, seeing topper walking down the small crest in a white t-shirt and bathing suit bottoms.

“do i look okay?” you asked her as she watched him under her sunglasses. her head turned to you and you didn’t need her glasses off her face to know the look she was giving you.

“i don’t think you should be worrying about that if you’re just going to end up taking your clothes off in front of him.”

“just say yes and move on.” you said, exasperated.

liza laughed to herself and lifted her hand to wave topper over. you watched as he put his phone back into his pocket, lowering his gaze to his sandals as he walked along the sand. you pushed yourself to stand with liza, trying your best to not fix your appearance.

“hey,” liza said easily as topper came closer.

“hey, how’s it going?”

“good. this is y/n, as you already know.” liza gestured to you.

“hi,” you said and gave an awkward wave. it was only awkward with liza there, but you knew she’d be leaving shortly.

“hey.” he said and slipped his hands into his pockets.

it made you smile when you saw his eyes traveling over you for a split second. liza saw it too. you let your own eyes wander as liza said something; you weren’t paying attention to listen. 

“well, i’m going to head out.” liza said as she bent to roll up her towel. you crossed your arms loosely as you watched her. she picked up her bag and turned to you. “let me know if you need me to pick you up.”

you gave her a nod and watched her take a few steps. she turned slightly to point at topper. “be nice to her.” she warned, making you laugh like she was a parent trying to threaten a boy.

once she was out of sight, you sat down on half of the towel so topper could have the other side. he followed you, propping his legs in front of him as you stretched yours out.

“so, are you just here for the weekend?” topper asked after a few moments. you were trying not to let it become awkward, but he had beaten you to it.

“until next saturday.” you said, glancing at him as you leaned back on your hands. you could feel a shell under your palm, so you moved it to a different spot. “liza wanted me to visit before we go back to school.”

topper nodded, his elbows atop his knees. he glanced at a beach ball rolling by, a little kid chasing after it. “are you guys close?”

“you could say that. you went to high school together?”

“yeah, we kind of had the same friends so we hung out at the same places.”

you hummed as you looked toward the shore. you saw a couple kites over the water, their tails whipping in the wind. “it’s nice here.”

“yeah, kitty hawk is nice. i like to paddle board over at kill devil hills.” you turned your eyes to him, finding him already looking at you.

you smiled lightly and squinted at him. “i’ve never been paddle boarding.”

“really? it’s fun. what about surfing?”

“i tried, but i split my lip. i’m sure if i tried again i’d get the hang of it.”

topper nodded with an identical smile, looking at you a little longer. ten seconds later, your heart lurched as topper reached back and took his shirt off. you glanced away with a slight blush, an inkling of a thought about public sex creeping into your mind. topper then stood and reached a hand to you.

“come on, come in the water with me.” he promoted. you felt your heart settle as you took his hand and he pulled you up.

you spent the next fifteen minutes in the water. you glided your hands along the surface as the waves rolled and topper talked animatedly with you. you were enjoying this part as much as you didn’t want to admit, seeing as that all you were looking for was a hookup. but he was so talkative and curious and hardly ever broke the eye contact. you played with the sand under your feet while he dunked himself under the surface then wiped a hand over his face.

when you got out and dried yourself off with liza’s towel, you wiped your face and looked over the soft fibers at topper. you held the towel out to him, dripping onto the sand. you were partially dry for now and itching under your skin. you looked away as he dried himself off but found yourself looking back as he bent over to wipe down his legs. when he stood tall again, you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered over his glistening stomach, admiring.

“can we get out of here?” you asked.

topper nodded and handed you the towel. he took it back from you after pulling his shirt on so you could do the same. your bottoms were still wet so you left your shorts off for the time being and grabbed the rest of your things. topper fiddled with his keys, brushing the sand off them as he led you to the car lot. the gravel poked at your bare feet, some pebbles sharp enough to make you wince, but you endured it the whole way to a jeep that topper brought you to. it unlocked with a beep and before you climbed in, you put the towel over the seat and brushed your feet off, not wanting to track sand, dirt, or rocks into his shiny vehicle. it felt too high up for you, like you were sitting on the roof rather than inside it, but you closed the door gently.

—

“oh...wow.”

it kind of looked like a forty-year-old woman threw up. and it was all over the house. every room seemed overly decorated, a bunch of different script fonts with those cheesy sayings plastered everywhere. the house had high ceilings and the paint was pristine. it was very bright due to all of the windows and you wondered if there were any dark spots at all inside the house.

even topper’s room had a hint of a forty-year-old woman in it when you walked in.

“i think your mom went overboard at pottery barn.” you joked. “your dad couldn’t monitor her credit card uses?”

topper closed the door behind you as you wandered in, hands clasped gently in front of you. he tossed his keys onto a dark dresser beside the entryway and paused there at your remark.

“i don’t know my dad.” he said.

you turned then from staring at the light blue walls adorned with framed potted plant prints. “oh.” you said, your stomach aching like you’d been kicked. you knew it wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to say, no matter how you said it. normally you could get away with saying things like that, but you had to remind yourself that you didn’t know topper.

“my dad has a habit of canceling a lot of my mom’s outstanding online purchases so i just thought— i’m sorry.” you shifted on your feet, moving your hands to your sides.

topper only shrugged as you went back to scoping out the room. you tapped your thighs awkwardly as a discarded pair of socks seemed pretty interesting to you. when you looked back at topper, you relaxed since he didn’t come off as uncomfortable. you decided to just forget it and push it out of your head as you crossed your arms and reached for the hem of your shirt.

you left it somewhere on the floor before taking a few timid steps to topper. he stayed where he was against the dresser, watching you closely as you came to him. you leaned in close, bringing your hand to the back of his neck while his hands fell easily to your hips. glancing over his features quickly and landing on his mouth, you smiled softly and asked, “is this okay?”

the tension left your body as topper nodded, staring at your own mouth, before you finally gave him a kiss. another had him opening his mouth wider, and another was a little deeper. you smiled against him.

“what?” he asked, his fingertips poking at your sides, his face close.

“i can taste your toothpaste.”

topper’s cheeks tinged a light pink and he pulled you closer against his body, licking into the next kiss and surprising you. you moaned delightedly and brushed your fingers into his damp hair.

you let your hands wander down his neck, shoulders, and chest. he felt firm in all of those places and his shirt soft. you enjoyed the touch of his hands on your face, exploring a new territory, and holding you close. every cell in your body was cheering with delight, like you’d just chugged a liter of water after a sweltering day. a slight buzz started under your fingertips as a familiar tingling grew in your bathing suit bottoms. every touch had you anticipating the end result.

topper’s skin was warm and taut as you slipped a hand under his shirt and played with the waistband of his bottoms. his tongue was fighting with yours while you were fighting with yourself about whether or not to take his shirt or bottoms off first. you couldn’t decide if you wanted to get it over with or to build up to finally having him inside of you. a moan slipped out at the thought. your finger hooked between his lower stomach and his bottoms when he pulled away abruptly at your noise and reached behind him to tug the shirt off.

as it fell to the floor, his hands returned to your hips to tug you flush against him. you could slightly feel him through his bottoms, the want to stick your hand inside now greater than ever. but he had a tight grip on your hips that showed no signs of letting up.

your breath was heavy with his as he turned the both of you so you were the one pressed against the dresser now. his hips brushed into yours slowly as the edge of the dresser dug into your lower back and you let your head fall as another moan came out.

“shit.” you whispered to yourself, your eyes closing at how good it felt. something so subtle that had your knees growing weak.

topper dragged a hand up to your jaw and pulled your lips back to his as he rolled his hips, this time a little firmer. to only add to the pleasure you were feeling, his hand slipped down to your chest where he groped you gently. he massaged a few strokes as you licked at his lip, begging for entrance. he granted it while he fingers flexed over your breast. you gladly let them wander to your back where he pulled at the strings, the damp silky fabric peeling off like those fake tattoo papers you put on when you were younger.

you pushed your now bare chest against topper’s, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and rubbing the heel of your foot into his calf. he turned you around, his hands rubbing down to your ass as he moved to the bed. you crawled backwards at the same pace he crawled over you, faces still close that you could feel his breath growing heavy.

“stop teasing.” you said through clenched teeth as topper nipped at your neck and rolled his hips into yours.

“where’s the fun in that?” he smiled to himself as he skimmed his nose along your neck.

you wanted to kick him, but instead you settled for pulling him back against your lips while letting your hand rest on his shorts again. his hips seemed to sink lower to you at the feeling and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

your ears perked up at a small noise from somewhere while topper went unfazed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth. you ignored the small disruption and focused on him and your hand, now creeping your fingers along his abdomen. just as you barely got a knuckle deep into his bottoms a sliding door opened and banged. topper must’ve been so lost in where your hand was going that he still didn’t move away from you.

“did you hear that?” you pulled away.

“what?” he breathed.

a chorus of shouts and hollers came through the closed bedroom door. topper stilled and closed his eyes. “fuck,” he said before he pushed himself up and crawled away from you.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him get a footing and leave the room. you stared at the open door, partially annoyed at the interruption and the fact that you were left; naked.

groaning, you got up and pulled on your shirt again so you could follow topper. you went down the hall and found him in what you assumed to be the living room, a large tv on one wall and a white couch placed in front of it. the sliding door you heard led out onto a large deck, where you saw a group of guys all standing. topper’s bare back was facing you as he was in the middle of talking to someone, his shoulders tense.

the moment you stepped on the threshold, your bare feet against the cool metal, all eyes were on you. the guy topper had been talking to looked over his shoulder, instant curiosity on already stimulated features. he had topper’s hand in his, his opposite on his shoulder like he was giving him a pep talk.

“who’s this?” he asked, a sick smile appearing like you’d drop down onto your knees in front of him.

you grimaced very noticeably and spoke for yourself. “someone who’s trying to get laid. who the hell are you?”

a few low whistles rang out and you sent glares to the guys behind the one you were originally looking at. topper looked at you over his shoulder and gave you an apologetic look. you were glad he didn’t ask you to leave or wait for him, because you would’ve gladly left. you were starting to feel the irritation bubble and soon you would be leaving.

“got yourself a nice touron, huh, top?” the friend said, his arm looping around topper’s shoulders as he jostled him. his eyes were blown wide and not just from surprise. you grimaced deeper. they all looked like entitled, pretentious asshats and you were starting not to want anything to do with them. liza was totally right.

“rafe, come on, just leave. i’ll text you later.” topper was saying while you seethed at the door.

“don’t be pussy-whipped, topper. just drop the bitch and come try my new stash.”

“excuse me?” you pushed yourself off the doorway and stepped onto the warm deck. topper stopped you, turning out of rafe’s arm to plant his hands on your shoulders.

“woah, woah,” topper said as you sent daggers at his friend. he just laughed cockily at you and rubbed his chin. “can i text you later?”

your eyes snapped to topper’s pensive face in front of you. “are you kidding?” his hands dropped like you singed him. “don’t even bother.”

topper opened his mouth to call after you as you turned and walked away into the house. you shook your head to yourself and muttered as if anyone was listening. you should’ve known better or you should’ve expected less than for someone to put your needs before their own, much less a total stranger.

you wanted to slam a door behind you in annoyance as you went back to topper’s room to get your shoes. you also wanted to yell in frustration when you remembered your phone was still in his truck; you had wanted zero distractions. his keys were atop his dresser and you debated for a second whether or not to take them— you’d just be getting your things and liza’s towel.

just as you snatched your shoes and bathing suit top from the floor, topper slid into the room behind you and blocked the door. “please don’t leave,” he said quickly.

“unlock your car so i can get my stuff.”

“come on, please stay. i want you to stay.” he took a step closer to you, his pleading expression prominent.

“i don’t want to be here with your shitty friends pretending that we might get along when one of them just called me a bitch for no reason.” you countered and took a step to get by him, only to be caught around the waist. he turned you gently, his expression still the same.

“they’re leaving right now, i swear.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“i swear!” he pleaded. “you can go look yourself or you can take my word for it and we can pick up where we left off.”

you held your steely glare, trying not to show that you were reconsidering. you just really wanted to get laid and the situation only added to that frustration.

instead of smacking him with a sandal, you dropped everything in a heap and attached yourself to him again. his fingers worked quickly to pull your shirt back off, running along your sides and planting themselves on your hips. you nipped at his lip, silently begging him to move faster. he seemed to have the right idea as he turned you and pushed you back to the bed. you landed softly, your legs dangling off the edge, as you watched topper stand tall in front of you. his chest grew bigger as he took a breath and bent down to push his bottoms off. you pulled your lip between your teeth, not hiding the way your eyes flickered down to catch a glimpse. your ears grew hot and your skin pricked at topper’s semi-erection, the tip of him glistening. you wondered what he tasted like.

your gaze broke as topper moved to the side of the bed, rifling through his nightstand. you took that opportunity to take your bottoms off, flicking them somewhere in the room with your foot. you flipped over onto your stomach, grinning to yourself at the full view of topper’s butt. taking a nail between your teeth, you bit it anxiously and watched as he found a condom. you couldn’t help but giggle as he looked over the packaging, reading the date. your feet kicked in the air playfully.

when topper went back to the foot of the bed, you looked over your shoulder as he rubbed himself before rolling the condom on. he combed a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“good to go?” you smiled.

he breathed in and nodded. “you want it like this?” he gestured to the way you were on your stomach.

you hummed, nodding your head, and moved a little further down the bed so your hips were at the very edge. topper’s hands fell to your thighs and he spread your knees apart, his skin ghosting against yours as he stepped closer. you took a shaky breath in as the anticipation rose higher— god, you couldn’t wait. deep down, you hoped that it didn’t suck. he had worked you up so much that you were sure you’d feel silly if it wasn’t satisfying.

you tried not to show just how desperate you were as the tip of him teased your folds. you licked your lips, biting down on the bottom one and lay flat on the mattress. his hand gripped your hip now while the other guided himself to your entrance. a high-pitched moan bubbled from your chest and slipped past your lips as topper slowly moved himself inside of you. you let out a lower, satisfied moan when he was fully inside, flush against you. your feet knocked into his back as you adjusted to the size of him. topper tried to control his panting behind you, staring down at your ass and himself fully sheathed by you.

“jesus christ,” he said more so to himself, marveling at the way you fit around him. he imagined it would’ve been so much better without a condom, but this was just as good.

just as you were about to ask him to move, he pulled out of you inch by inch. it felt uncomfortable at the empty feeling, but he came back a little quicker with a low noise of his own.

topper kept a steady rhythm, his hold tight on the skin over your hips and his breath blowing across your back each time he thrusted into you. you reveled in his noises, enjoying the low grunts and the occasional moans to mix with yours and the sounds your bodies were making. his skin started to smack against yours, building as your hands tightened over the comforter. there wasn’t much conversation or dirty talk, which you didn’t mind at the moment since you weren’t looking to lengthen this experience out. you just wanted him to give you what you needed. so far, he was doing a pretty good job.

the bed dipped beside your shoulder as topper’s hips still moved. his body moved closer to yours, the heat from his chest seeping into the skin on your back and giving you a pleasant wave of goosebumps. you opened your eyes to find his fist planted beside you, just as his other hand gripped your shoulder. you pushed yourself up to your elbows, stretching your head backwards. topper followed your movements and bent over you, planting a wet kiss to your lips. he continued to move in you, the hand on your shoulder moving to your neck, his fingertips settling on the sides. you breathed heavily into his mouth at the new sensation as a slew of curses rang out in your mind.

topper licked into your mouth, teasing you and playing with your tongue as his fingertips pressed a little more into your skin. you moaned lowly and broke apart from him. he stayed close, reaching down to your ear and nipping at your earlobe. your mouth opened, eyes screwing shut again as you became aware that you were close to your end. maybe if he just squeezed a little more around your neck, you’d go over the edge.

“topper, i’m going to come.” you breathed, feeling your head knock into his shoulder as he still moved. just then his hips snapped forward, hitting you a little deeper, a little harder. his lips moved off your ear, his breath hitting it now. you tightened yourself around him, not knowing that it brought him even closer while you came over him. you held on to the blanket, knuckles turning white while the same thing happened behind your eyelids. your face screwed up in ecstasy as topper pumped into you deliciously, his movements eventually faltering and stopping as he found his own climax. he groaned loudly into your ear, his breath hot, his grip not too tight, and his come feeling warm even through the condom. if only you’d actually felt it.

topper let go of your neck and you lay flat again, finding your breath with a heaving chest. topper watched the side of your face through hooded eyelids as he stayed hovering over you for a moment. the heels of your feet rested against his back; your thighs no longer tight against his thighs as you relaxed now.

your eye lazily opened as the air in the room met your back, topper moving away from you. you could see him out of the corner of your eye as he carefully touched your side and pulled himself out of you. you made a small noise, almost one of disappointment that he didn’t stay there longer. he disappeared from your sight and your legs promptly closed, your feet still in the air even though you ached from staying like that for a while.

when topper came back, condom gone and thrown away and holding a washcloth, he tapped your lower back. you pushed yourself up slowly, wincing at tired joints and muscles, and thanked him before finding your way to the bathroom. you cleaned yourself up inside, peeing quickly and washing your hands. topper was stepping into his shorts when you came back.

“the fuck is a touron?” you asked as you reached for your bathing suit bottoms almost under his dresser.

topper laughed behind you. “it’s a tourist.”

you made a face and pulled your bathing suit top over your head, tying it in the back. “east coast people are weird.”

topper smiled to himself, glancing at you as you pulled your t-shirt on. he was dressed and ready to go when you were, grabbing his keys and letting you lead the way.

once he pulled into liza’s ridiculously long driveway, you thanked him and jumped out, not wanting to make it awkward. liza was in her kitchen when you walked in, hair a little messy but dry.

she looked up at you from cutting some fruit. a curious smile came onto her lips. her eyebrows rose. “how was it?”

you lifted yourself into one of the chairs at the island counter and reached over for a small piece. “i don’t like his friends so i can see why you warned me but i’m letting it go.” you said, popping the fruit into your mouth.

liza blinked at you, not totally understanding but becoming uncomfortable with how chilled you were compared to the other days you’d been her guest. “wow,” she said. “you really had a whole ass iceberg of frustration, huh?”

“i told you.” you shrugged and laughed once you stared at each other for a moment.

you ate dinner that night with liza and her dad, hearing a few stories and sharing your own over wine and lobster. just after you helped clean up the dishes and the kitchen, you felt your phone vibrate in your sweatshirt pocket. pulling it out, you read texts from a number you hadn’t saved.

i enjoyed today

let me know if you’re ever visiting again😉

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[hollyhomburg]

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 3)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Ft. Baby! Jungkook and Baby Dragon! Hoseok) (Dragon! Namjoon x Fairy! Jimin) 

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of your farm.

W/C: 9.3k

TAGS: anxious! hobi, Mentions of mates and soulbonds, Brief nudity, 

A/N: Hope you guys like this and are still interested in this story after so long between updates! the last few months have been kind of a struggle for me getting out of china during the coronavirus stuff, every single one of my family members was quarantined for 2 weeks besides me, but luckily none of them ever came down with the virus and they’re all okay! I hope we all are able to remain healthy in the next few months. 

Also, it’s worth noting that namjoon and Jimin's manor house is not on the map provided in chapter 2! That manor house is a different one! this chapter is a little heavier in the plot and family sweetness vs. the Yoongi x reader romance. hopefully, you don’t hate it! 

Part 1    Part 2 

- You have no idea what the dragon council will decide. If they’ll let you keep Hoseok or decide that it’s better if he remains with his own kind. and that- not the dragons you might meet or the thought of being in a city that hates your kind- is what scares you the most. 

- It’s a fear that Yoongi shares, but you try not to let it bother you- or to let Hoseok know that you’re scared. All of you ignore the possibility that Hoseok could be taken from you. But because of that, you also ignore the first missive summoning you to the council. 

- For the second missive, the council deemeds it best (given how Yoongi had received the first emissary) to send a messenger hawk. You ignore that letter as well, but the next one that comes delivered while the four of you are away for the day off to a nearby village for the few things that Yoongi can’t get via plundering, contains less than cordial language. 

- There is another smaller message tucked into the scroll, written personally for Yoongi and not ‘Yoongi windborne, commander of the western battalion’ or whatever title the council decided to give him after the last war (it hardly means anything- the dragon council’s garrison hasn’t been called in well over 100 years). 

- The note is small and in a scrawl he recognizes: Come and visit! Jimin misses you. I hear you have a son now? And a mate? We’d both love to meet them. Namjoon’s chicken scratch writing is still the same after all these years, Yoongi flips over the other side of the note. I’m trying my best, but I can only hold them off for so long – KNJ

- Though it’s been years since the last time they spoke, and even longer since they’d seen each other in person, Yoongi’s heartstrings tug uneasily as he thinks of Namjoon sticking up for him in front of the other councilmembers. Once upon a time, Namjoon had been one of Yoongi’s lieutenants, though they’d been much more than that, the horrible business of war binding them closer than friends and more like family. 

- He, Seokjin, and Namjoon had all found each other during the last war. yoongi had been without his family by that point, and searching for a cause- anything really- to occupy his eternity. Yoongi had been appointed as a commander after he’d been successful in a few minor battles. Namjoon had been assigned to his battalion, a dragon from the north with no formal training come south to prove himself.

-  Seokjin brought to the same place as a medic who owed allegiance to neither side and only wished to make the war less bloody. Yoongi was the only commander that allowed Seokjin into his camp, as he was stalwart about treating both sides, enemy and friend alike, and yoongi was the only commander who would support him doing both. They’d been fast friends, outcasts among the ranks, and they were friends still. 

- After the war they’d all scattered to different parts of the globe, Namjoon- because he had a dream- a dream to make the world better, and like all fools, had decided to go into politics. A mixture of grief and hopeful sorrow (and love- endless love) had driven Seokjin north.

- Yoongi still remembers it, the day that they’d paused on their march to join another battalion settled in for a warm afternoon in the human kingdom. the world so flat deep into orchard lands and taken refuge in peach fields that had turned to ashes in the coming months as the war had ravaged the countryside. He remembers hearing the shout, Seokjin leaping up from where he’d been reclined against Namjoon’s cool side, the dragon barely shifting let alone actually shifting. 

- Yoongi runs with Seokjin, seen the teen- the young man sitting below a ladder, a knife meant for cutting peaches from their tree embedded in his arm. he’d seen the way that Seokjin had looked at the man as he pulled it out, the wide boxy smile as the human marveled at Seokjin’s magic.

- There is a reason why Seokjin never comes south anymore, the peach fields remind him too much of Taehyung not to hurt.

- But maybe Taehyung and Seokjin’s story is better placed for a different time. 

- Yoongi like Seokjin, hadn’t wanted to go back to the city, too used to being on his own at that point. And still- the guile of war hadn’t ebbed the grief of losing his own parents. It’s rare now, that Yoongi thinks of them time finally healed those old wounds. When he looks at you- he knows he has a new family now, and this one he’s determined not to lose. 

- They’d lost contact mostly because of Namjoon’s appointment to the dragon council- a feat in its self for a lowborn tundra dragon from a tribe like Namjoon. Yoongi hadn’t bothered pushing the contact- knowing that they’d remain friends no matter how much time separated them. He’s glad that’s still true even now. 

- Over the next few days, Yoongi mulls it over, but he knows he can’t outrun the council forever. Fall has already gripped the mountains by the time Yoongi finally takes the four of you to the dragon city to meet with the council. 

- Both you and Jungkook greet the awaiting hundreds of thousands of dragons with something like mixed trepidation on your part and wonder on Jungkook’s. Hoseok is another matter: he clutches at your hand the whole flight to the city, both he and Jungkook tied tight between your legs for safety. And though Jungkook might nod off most of the time lulled to sleep by the gentle up and down movement of Yoongi’s back in the sky. Hoseok curls close to you, nuzzling into your shoulder periodically. Glad to be so close. 

- He can’t fly yet, but you know from the way his wide red eyes look at the puffy clouds that he’s feeling some sort of call to the wind that both you and Jungkook are immune too. 

- Well... maybe Jungkook feels it too in some way. When he’s awake and not curled up, he and Hoseok shout into each other's ears over the sound of the wind, sometimes holding out their hands in mock flight. 

- Your hands remain firmly around either of their waists, holding on harshly to a support rope in front of you. Somehow you don’t think you’re ever going to get used to flying, your stomach dipping with every new headwind. 

- The journey is long and hard- but you couldn’t imagine making it on foot if flying takes a week. The first two days you don’t escape the frozen mountains; you’re lucky for Yoongi’s warm back between your legs to keep you from really feeling the cold. You keep your same old shawl- the first one that Yoongi gave you wound tight around your neck. 

- before you’d left Jungkook had found his old baby blanket shoved deep in an old chest of Yoongi’s with a few old storybooks, It had surprised both you and Yoongi when he’d found it- and started wearing it much like you wear your shawl. “It has my name on it- so it must be mine” he’d said, proud over the fact that he could read. 

- Hoseok had looked a little shy and unsure, fingering the red scarf whenever he can, until you’d gone to the nearby village to get some supplies for your journey and gotten him a matching one. Though his is blue so dark it’s nearly black, and has a hood that he can tug up to hid his horns if he ever needs too! 

- He’d hopped up and down when you’d given it to him, wanting you to scent it before he put it on, snuggling down into in and hiding his mouth in it with a little happy dragon noise. He and Jungkook look like quite the pair, Jungkook’s black hair and red shawl, and Hoseok with his red hair and black shawl. 

- You pass over woods on the other side of the mountain range, dotted with waterfalls and visible streams that grow over the next few days into rivers that wind in and out of view. You start to spy hollows and carefully carved out dens in the few mountains you pass, or even nests. You pass over tall hills dotted with red poppy fields and farmland, and even camp in one late at night. 

- The tall blooms hanging over your heads as you sleep in your sleeping bags. you wake at first light with red petals dotting your hair, Jungkook and Hoseok sleeping on as Yoongi slowly picks them out, giving you a kiss to your face and chest for everyone. Ending his morning kisses with a scalding one just over your heart. 

- When the little settlements that dot the countryside start to grow more numerous, more like large towns, Yoongi flies higher just to stay out of sight of the others of his kind.

- He doesn’t know how your and Jungkook’s presence so deep into dragon lands will be received, especially out here in the country where many are loathed to forget any of the wars in recent memory or the one that’s currently blooming. The citizens of the dragon city, on the other hand, are far more accepting, even overly curious if Yoongi remembers well- it’s been about 100 years since he last set foot in it, things could have changed. 

- But Yoongi is still a little too worried for comfort, the last time that you land to make camp, everyone can feel how tense it is. It must be the hardest for Hoseok, already wound tight by anxiety and further stressed out by Yoongi’s off-putting scent of discomfort. The youngling spends the whole night shifted and scent marking both you and Jungkook, huffing every time either of you try to move away from him.

- There are some precautions that they have to take before you enter the city limits. Both you and Jungkook are carefully scent marked and each given something of Yoongi’s to wear as claiming items. Yoongi gives each of you a bracelet made from one of his shiny black scales that he made a few weeks ago. Any dragons that see you will know you’re claimed and spoken for- even if he turns away for a moment and you’re caught without them.

- In the end, it’s only the curiosity of what Yoongi is doing that makes Hoseok shift. Hoseok sweetly makes both of you one too- though his are rougher and not quite as elegant- a simple twine necklace with one of his red feathers for each of you to wear around your necks- that way everyone will know you’re apart of Hoseok’s family too. 

- “Do you like it?” he asks after he steps up to where your legs are crossed around the campfire and puts the long string around your neck, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your lap. Making him erupt into giggles “I love it Hobi I’m never going to take it off” he presses his cheek to the top of your head, scent-marking you before he darts away to give Jungkook his. 

- on the day you enter the city, Yoongi is careful to circle the city from above, you can smell the ocean even if you can’t see it yet high above the clouds. He’d warned you before- to hold on, that entering might require some fancy flying. When you first breach the cloud line from above- you’re shocked, what you first assume is a cloud of brightly colored birds grows in size as Yoongi falls into the steepest dive he dares with you on his back, gliding into a slow spiral down.

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. you break through the second layer of clouds and the city rises up to meet you. 

- The city is in the center of a massive island miles across, on one side of it- the city rises up slowly to the edge of a cliff, a tall castle at the highest point. But even on the other side, you can see the cliffs are dotted with hanging buildings. On the less steep side of the city, tall buildings are wound through with canals, colorful ships docking to unload their wears from far off lands.

- You’ve never seen so much glass in one place, in the human realms, glass is costly and usually used sparingly- but this castle is nearly made of the stuff, piercing the sky like a faceted quartz crystal. The city it’s self-looks almost like a human city if not for the taller towers, landing pads, and wider roofs for sunbathing dotted with Jem colored scaly beings that look lazily at the sky when Yoongi descends. 

- You’d never realized how Yoongi might compare to others of his species, but even here- his black wings seem to block out the sun, he’s easily twice as large as the average size. luckily none of them fly too near to you- the thousands of dragons dotting the sky too preoccupied with their own destinations to wonder at yours. 

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. 

- The entire fiasco of landing takes about a minute but feels longer.

-  When you land, it’s in a square in the shroud of the castle with steep walls and a large hall- faceted like a cut stone. The wide black landing pad is tiled with white stones in the shape of a coat of arms. The hexagonal black stones are warm underfoot as you slide off of Yoongi’s back the insignia- whatever it might be, indiscernible now that you’re at ground level.

- Attendants rush forward, some of them puzzled and others, who recognize Yoongi dropping into deep bows. 

- Though Jungkook had been excited when he’d first learned that there was a whole city full of dragons- now he’s shy, tucks himself into your legs when you slide onto the stone. Hoseok falls into a flurry of feathers, shifts halfway down Yoongi’s back and steps in front of both of you, his feathers raised and puffed up to make himself look larger. 

- It’s strange, you’d never imagined the different ways in which dragoness could present its self In human form but now you see there is some sort of dimorphism between shifting species. A young woman with wings rushes forward as if to take your bags, but halts when Hoseok hisses at her. There is even one with a tail poking out from underneath her skirt, and a group of small soldiers who look more dragon than human even though they’re still bipedal.   

- A pretty looking soldier with silver scales sparkling along his shoulders like the armor he also wears steps up, a spear held in his shaking hands not at the ready, but held almost as if he is unsure of the threat. Yoongi steps in front of the three of you smoothly- the shift ending with a flap of his robes, suddenly toe to toe with the soldier who looks like he’s about to faint, eyes widening at the sight of Yoongi’s human form. 

- He’s quick to drop the spear, and back up, you almost think you see Yoongi smirk. “I am Yoongi Windborne, victor to the battles of frozen fires, of tialug pass, the stolen city, Commander of the eastern battalion and victor to the 33 year war, I have come to the council when summoned, take me to them.” 

- A dragon woman with no visible mark beyond her slanted emerald eyes steps forward, the pin on her chest of a large fire-filled flower (what you decide you must have seen in the center of the coat of arms. Later Yoongi will tell you it’s the symbol of the council) she introduces herself as The main caretaker of the castle and drops into an elegant bow “I will take you to them master, follow me.” 

- The palace guards recede; Hoseok sifts back and straightens, Yoongi nods and then gestures with his hands for you to follow without turning from the woman. You would reach out and take his hand if it weren’t for Jungkook and Hoseok clutching either of yours. Jungkook is wide-eyed and a little bit frightened, but his wide brown eyes dart to take in absolutely everything he can. Hoseok is still and as tightly wound as a statue, his back rim rod straight holding your hand so tightly in both of his that it’s starting to hurt.

- “Your family may wait here,” the caretaker says, as you break out into a small antechamber. It’s a little enchanting, the open-air courtyard with a raised pool in the center pastel colored fish swimming lazily in the clear water. Great bushels of puffy pink flowers hang from the ceiling above- giving the whole thing an almost cloudlike aesthetic, small glass orbs hang periodically that seem to glow dully with muted light hang on unseen strings. 

- “I’ll give you a second to settle in,” the caretaker says then turns her back to the two of you, farther on down the hallway you can barely hear it, the sound of clamoring voices and a small shout, a loud booming laugh. You figure you must not be far from the council room.  

- Your boys look up at you, and you lean down, pressing a kiss to either of their for heads. “Would you give your father and I a minute?” they both nod, their mismatched black and red curls bobbing as Hoseok transfers his death grip from your hand to Jungkook’s and lets the younger pull him in the direction of the pool. 

- Hoseok holds onto Jungkook, smiling down at Jungkook when he says something about the fish, the elder trying to stop the younger as he tries to climb up and over the ledge and into the pool, laughing when Jungkook pouts, “Don’t let them take him Yoongi- please- I can’t- if they do-” 

- Yoongi shushes you gently, his wide hands combing over the back of your hair. He makes a comforting noise in the back of his throat. But his grip is tight, his body too tense to be entirely comforting. “I won’t let that happen, I promise” You nod, hold onto him extra tightly. Yoongi leans forward to scent mark dully against your cheek. The slow circles he draws with his nose tempting a watery giggle. 

- He leans back, pressing his forehead against yours hard, eyes opening, more resolved, a rage you’ve never seen in his eyes before. You imagine not for the first time what he must have been before you. You always see Yoongi so soft its easy to forget he once lived the life of a warrior. His eyes flash with a rabid hidden fire, something that flares to consume and destroy. 

- But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, his eyes softening once they focus on you. The giggles from Hoseok and Jungkook dancing along the tiled wall of the pool distracting him. 

 - “I’d burn down the whole city before I let them hurt you.” 

- Together the two of you walk towards your children. You pull Jungkook away to a corner, wanting to look out over the city and the wide windows. Leaving Hoseok and Yoongi to talk. 

- Yoongi crouches down to Hoseok’s level and hugs him tightly, the flechling holds back twice as hard. “My little flechling” Yoongi says, barely keeping his tears at bay. The words tugging out of him before he can think better on it…but there are some things that need to be said. yoongi might not have a chance after today. 

- He hopes, not for the first time- that he’s not fucking this whole father thing up. He hopes he’s Judging correctly that Hoseok even so small and young will be able to make this choice. 

- With everything he’s been through, he deserves to be treated like a grown-up but protected and cared for like the child he is. What Hoseok wants matters the most in this, regardless of what you and Yoongi want.  

- Yoongi knows that Hoseok hasn’t had an easy few months- not by a long shot, losing his family and the long months of healing had been hard. But yoongi hopes that they’ve done the best that they could.

- “You know how much I care for you, how much Jungkook and y/n care for you too, we love you and we want you to stay but none of that matters if you want-“ Yoongi’s voice falters, and he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Hoseok is tugging back with a vice-like grip shanking his little head back and forth furiously knowing Yoongi’s words before he’s spoken them, little curls bobbing and flopping up to curl against his golden horns. 

- “I want to stay- I want to stay with you and them, please- please don’t let them take me away.” he cries, clutching onto the back of Yoongi’s neck. 

- Yoongi strokes down his back carefully, his arms a cage around his son to protect him from all that would harm the young dragon. Their horns knock together a little, as Hoseok scent marks Yoongi in the clumsy little kid sort of way that makes Yoongi’s heart clench painfully.

- “Of course not, I’d never let them take you from us hobi, i promise” from the corner, Jungkook giggles and calls for Hobi to come and see the view of the city below, oblivious, half hanging out of the window and probably in danger of falling if it weren’t for your hand fisted in the back of his shirt. Hoseok nods, and Yoongi knocks their foreheads together once before he lets Hoseok go, his hand lingering on Hoseok’s small shoulder for just a moment longer.  

- Yoongi is ready to face them. 

- The Dragon Council quiets when Yoongi enters, some of them even stand while the caretaker announces him by rank and title. Yoongi himself even rolls his eyes at a few of them- the council and their formalities must have anointed him with more than a few in his absence from the city. The council room is the same as yoongi remembered it. The sealing is hexagonal and faceted with glass like a jewel, the councils two dozen seats set up a few feet so that whoever remains in the anti-chamber below to meet with them needs to look up to make eye contact. 

- He spots his old friend in the crowd, Yoongi sees the ice drakes face breaks out into a happy smile at the sight of him. Namjoon’s chair falling back as he stands up too quickly at the sight of his long lost friend. A smile that Yoongi returns with barely a press of his lips- later, there will be time for a more solid hello. 

- The discussion and clamor is almost immediate. Yoongi quickly needs to reign in his temper. 

- “While it’s not unheard of for human’s to be apart of a hoard, it is a little unconventional. Are we certain Yoongi is the best caretaker for the flechling? Should he not be put with some of his own kind? Someone with more natural inclinations?” 

- Before Yoongi has a chance to growl out his anger at the impertinence and the disrespect they’re showing you- his mate- and not just a thing- Namjoon speaks up for him. The air chills in the wide throne room as Namjoon’s temper spikes. 

- “You seem to discount Yoongi’s loyalty to us, despite the fact that it’s not in his natural inclinations.” namjoon throws their words back in their face,  Namjoon is right, Most solitary species of dragons are more likely to tell the council to fuck off rather than follow their thinly veiled orders framed as requests.  

- “He’s never hesitated to come at your beck and call. If he wants to look after him and the flechling also wants to stay with his adopted family, I vote to allow him that, and transfer custody of the child to Yoongi.”

- Namjoon has gotten far more eloquent during his time as a councilman, Yoongi realizes. As he watches the way that Namjoon takes the room's attention and focuses it. There is barely a trickle of his northerner drawl left in his voice. He’s not the same rough winged and backwater hatchling Yoongi had first met- nor the battle-hardened soldier he’d left on the edge of the city limits all those years ago. Namjoon’s done well for himself. 

- “Also, he’s been verry clear during his explanation that the human woman is his mate Jaebeom- would you forgive such disrespect if the same indifference was shown to your mate?” the other dragon growls in reply and then mumbles something about Namjoon’s own choice of mate being unconventional at best and a conflict of interest at worst, but Namjoon is stalwart. 

- “There is another nuance to this issue as well, there are proper channels for this sort of thing, I for the life of me can’t imagine why Yoongi did not bring the child to us when he first found him and instead left us to find out that he’d been illegally harboring the child-“ 

- Yoongi’s voice is a growl as he interrupts, “my s- Hoseok was injured, councilwoman, I assure you legal formalities were the last thing on our minds when we first found him.”

- That prompts a whole other vein of discussion. “A human healing a dragon? how preposterous!” “How do we know that she even healed him well enough?” “The fledglings flight abilities could be at stake! We must have him looked over by the healers at once” “You definitely should have brought him here if he was injured- the only ones who could heal him properly is us.” 

- “I think we need to ask the child what he wants.” Comes the final vote, from an elderly woman in the back, she’s been a member of the council for most of her life and the wings that drag behind her when she stands are blown through with arrow holes and rustle like delicate paper. Yoongi wonders if she can even fly anymore. 

- Not too surprisingly, you refuse to let Hoseok go into the chamber alone, and Jungkook too because you won’t let Jungkook be alone in a strange place either. Your family files into the room, and though more than one of the council members seem to view your very presence to be an insult the rest of them seem to relax momentarily. 

- And of course, it helps that Hoseok enters the council room in his dragon form, makes them seem more at ease somehow, like they where worried he was being forced to stay in his human form (but come on really? You can’t help but be a little indignant at that.)

- At first, Hoseok will not step into the middle of the room, won’t leave your side by where you stand with Yoongi. you stoop to put a hand on his back, “Hobi it’s okay honey they just want to talk to you” Hoseok lets out a pained whine that makes more than one dragon in the room stiffen, you too, your hand smoothing over his feathered wing as they flutter a little agitatedly, snapping once. “I’ll go with him mom,” Jungkook says, tugging on the little mane of feathers on Hobi’s neck and leading him into the middle of the room.

- Hoseok goes, needing to be reassured every few feet by a soft word from Jungkook but he gets to the small raised circle, a podium just large enough for both of them to stand, without much fuss even though Hoseok looks like he’s about to bolt. 

- “They seem to have a close bond” one of the council members notes to the open room, the awaiting dragons appraise Jungkook and Hoseok with every step. Hoseok holds the end of Jungkook’s scarf in his mouth for comfort. 

- The closer they get to the Centre the more Hoseok shakes, his feathers standing on end making him look twice as puffed up. “We are! He’s my best friend!” Jungkook chirps, unbothered by the council members' scrutiny.  some seem to bristle at Jungkook’s enthusiastic response and Namjoon stifles a snort, raising his eyebrows in Yoongi’s direction. the look seems to say “a spunky one you’ve got there” Yoongi barely suppresses a grin. 

- “Will you be shifting any time soon?” a councilman snaps out when they’ve been hovering in the center of the room for a few seconds, Yoongi is careful to grab your arm tightly, making the snarky response die in your throat as a growl of his own ripples out of his throat. The look he sends you is apologetic, but you interfering will likely make it worse. Yoongi’s hand remains tight on your forearm, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. 

- “Sorry, it will only take a second,” Jungkook says, answering for the two of them Surprising both you and Yoongi. Maybe it’s something in the way that Jungkook says the words you think. Maybe it’s the unwavering trust that Hoseok has in Jungkook or the fact that he was the first one to crack through Hoseok’s shell when he’d come into your care. You have to admit- you have no idea what’s happening, and neither does Yoongi really, as Jungkook cups Hoseok’s cheeks in his hands. 

- In dragon form, Hoseok’s head rises at just about eye level with Jungkook. The younger presses their foreheads together for a second the same way they always do. The council watches with confused looks at first and then wide eyes, the elder council woman’s eyes hardening and her hands tightening over her walking cane, her eyes bright as she looks down upon them. 

- The council watches with bated breath as Jungkook presses his forehead against Hoseok’s hard,  “Hobi, shift.” he commands, his quiet voice lingering in the dead silence of the chamber. By the time Jungkook pulls back Hoseok’s red hair is tangling with his black, and he blinks, suddenly more clearheaded as he peers up at the council. “Sorry, I can’t- I’m not so good at shifting still and Jungkook helps me when I need it.” 

- You can’t imagine when before you’d seen it and then you remember- months ago- when that dragon had almost attacked the three of you, you and Yoongi had been busy with your bruises while Jungkook had gotten Hobi to shift. You can’t imagine what just happened really, but there must be some significance, whereas before most if not all of the council had held ire in their gazes when they looked at Jungkook- now their eyes are wide with shock and curiosity. 

- You don’t like it, the way they stare at them like some sort of novelty. You watch from beside Yoongi, his hand fisted in the fabric at the small of your back, he can tell your whole body is fighting to go to your sons and put your body between the two of them, but he holds you tight to his side, knowing if you interfere you’ll only make it worse. 

- “Well that settles it,” the councilwoman says, and almost immediately the others try to jump in, she raises her hand though and they fall silent, “all of you know as well as I do, that to separate a soulbond could spell certain death for either of them, if the hatchling has chosen the human boy then we need to respect it.”

- A soul bond? What is that? You want to wonder out loud, but if the faint widening of Yoongi’s eyes is anything to go by, it must be a big deal. That you might not have understood but it seems mostly unanimous, the few dragons who seem displeased are overridden by the vast majority who seem to be in agreement. 

- As quickly as you’ve been summoned, you’re asked to leave, a little more politely albeit. Yoongi is asked to stay however, and he leads you to the door nodding that he’ll only be another minute or so before he can rejoin you. 

- “How do you do that Jungkook?” you ask as you leave, one of your son's hands in each of your own, Hoseok’s is sweaty. Jungkook just shrugs looking a little indigent in the way that only a 6-year-old can muster. “I don’t know? Do you think they’ll have food for us when we get back? I’m kind of hungry.” you give Hoseok a look and he shrugs his small shoulders, “it’s just easier when he asks, it’s like, I can’t do it when I ask my body too but it listens to him,” you make a noise in the back of your throat. 

- As it turns out, those few minutes really are a few hours, there is a fair amount to discuss. Despite the grumblings and arguing that extends well into the day, Yoongi is allowed to keep Hoseok as his charge as long as he agrees to yearly check in’s with the council, and quarterly medical check-ups to make sure his ability to fly is not impeded by his past injury as he grows into adulthood, and to introduce him to more of his kind whenever possible. 

- There is another matter too, most younglings go to some sort of vocational school if they live within the city limits, magic school (if they’re so inclined like Yoongi was) or at least flight school so that they can learn best how to control their larger scaly forms. Normally, if they live outside of the city limits, schooling is left up to their parent’s discretion, but Hoseok- with his injured wing- is a special case. 

- “The fledgling will be under mandatory schooling for 2 months out of the year, whenever his parents decide, during which time he will socialize with his own kind, and complete certain physical exams to ensure his body is developing correctly despite the injury, and learn to fight.” 

- The burst of flame is almost immediate, as well as Yoongi’s rippling snarl that seems to shake the walls and make the windowpanes of the room rattle in their casings. When the smoke clears, Yoongi is toe to toe with the old councilman who has spoken the final missive- or sentencing, depending on your viewpoint. 

- In the antechamber down the hall, you notice the glass orbs that hang from the ceiling swaying slightly though your children do not. You gnaw on your lower lip, sending the closed door, and the guard that's come to stand outside of it- with an anxious glance.  

- “My child will not- under any circumstance- learn to fight- just so you can make him some soldier in your armies the same way you did to me. That, over everything else I will not allow.” He spits, fire dripping from his mouth even in human form.

- The old councilman cocks an eyebrow in Yoongi’s direction, unperturbed by his show of aggression, “this is our final say, take it- or leave the child in our care.” the threat hangs in the air for a second, everyone’s hair sticking on end, Yoongi’s hands tighten on the edge of the podium, breaking the edge away from the rest of the stone the rest of the podium creaking under his strength. Namjoon at the far end of the table- even stands up as if to come between Yoongi.

- With another snarl, Yoongi hurls the stone at the nearest window, which shatters in a fantastic splay of glass, then turns and walks away from the council- knowing that really- he has no other choice. behind him, he hears someone say something that sounds suspiciously like “overgrown baby” and “temper tantrum.”

- Yoongi’s temper has barely dissipated by the time he reaches your antechamber but is immediately cooled into syrupy warm sweetness when he sees the sight that greets him.

- There is a small food cart in the waiting room where he left you, though it looks absolutely raided. The honey cakes and small sandwiches taken apart by little fingers. Another plate only holds crumbs now, a small pile of tangerine peals piled on the floor (where Jungkook and Hoseok had sat and played a game while you’d paced and worried over the fate of your family).

- The fish in the pool now firmly in hiding after the last hour of terror inflicted on them by the two boys that are now taking a rest on the padded chaise lounge in the corner. Jungkook is piled with his head on your stomach the lower half of his pants soaked to the bone, his sticky face pressed to your stomach. The 6-year-old is never one to forget a nap, especially on a mid-afternoon as warm as this. The light from the dying sun making the room rosy and golden.

- Hoseok, on the other hand, is stretched out lengthwise, his head rested on your shoulder while you recline propped up a little on the velvet pillow. His eyes are barely open as you stroke down his back and over his hair. You hum something soft and melodic and relaxing as Hoseok holds you tightly around your middle. Hoseok sits up at the sound of Yoongi’s footsteps, the softness of your lilting lullaby silences. And Yoongi finally lets his smile break out.

- He holds his arms open, “come here Hobi” he says, and the youngling breaks out into a run, fully waking Jungkook. All of you pile in around Hoseok, squeezing the life out of him as the words spill from Yoongi’s mouth “you’re ours- you’re ours” and Hoseok happily snuggling into your tummy, then Jungkook’s head.

- “Okay! I can’t breathe! Stop squeezing so hard!” he says eventually, and you all separate from him with a few lingering touches, and Hoseok feels snuggled down and happy like he’s safer than he’s been in the last few months. Hoseok holds on a tiny bit, pressing his cheek to the side of your leg and holding around your knee, unwilling to let go even now.

- Before any of you can talk even further about what you might do next, or where you might be staying tonight, long confidant strides echo down the hallway as the council seems to get louder, stopped for a break perhaps or adjourned for the day, and a massive man in a dark blue robe rounds the corner.  

- You barely catch the sight of his slicked-back silver hair- and his icy blue eyes before he swoops up your mate into a bone-crushing hug. Yoongi actually squeaks- though the sound is more of a result of all of the air being crushed from his lungs by those iron looking arms. “Min- fucking- Yoongi- you asshole making me wait that long” the much taller man starts talking a mile a minute before your mate has a chance to respond beyond a wide grin. The kind of look you thought was reserved for you and your family but- whoever he is they must be close.

- “You should have told me you where coming! And not just wiped into the council room like that- but honestly- it was worth it to see the looks on their faces- how are you? How was your journey? Jimin will be so happy to see you!” Namjoon withdrawals- knocking foreheads with him once and quickly before he pulls apart, though your mates face is equally as smiley, showing his gums and slight fangs “councilman Namjoon- who would have thought they would let a low blood like you join their ranks,” he teases.

- The grin Namjoon returns, looking down shyly- “it wasn’t easy- but I think I’m finally starting to make some headway with how they treat the lower races- oh!” he brakes off, suddenly looking down, “who might this be?” Jungkook peers up with him with wide eyes, still tugging on the long embroidered edge of Namjoon’s robes. 

- “Excuse me!” Jungkook chirps, “I was wondering how you got so tall?” Yoongi stifles a laugh, you smile, and you can finally see the small nubby horns poking out of the top of Namjoon’s head start to turn from their silver that blends in with his hair- to a slight pink. Namjoon casts Yoongi an anxious glance, both of you stifle your giggles. “Ugh? Vegetables? I guess?”

- Jungkook makes a scowling face. His nose scrunching up cutely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that” Jungkook grabs Namjoon’s hand, giving it a little shake, “I’m Jungkook,” Namjoon looks a little bewildered but gives it a shake back, prompting both you and Yoongi to fall into giggles. “I’m Namjoon?” his sharp icy blue eyes flicker from Jungkook to Hoseok, who gives Namjoon a likewise small smile and a handshake, his small hand dwarfed by Namjoon’s large one. 

- “You must be Hoseok and Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you as well” you hold out your hand and Namjoon stoops low to press his forehead against it- a strange thing- you’d almost been expecting him to kiss it. Later, Yoongi will tell you that it’s customary for other dragons to greet each other's mates that way, so as to not incidentally scent mark them with a hug, or a more familial press of a forehead to the others. 

- Eventually, the conversation shifts to your plans for the rest of the stay in the dragon city. When Yoongi lets slip that you haven’t found a boarding house for tonight yet Namjoon invites you to stay at his manor house as long as you need. He doesn’t take no for an answer either, no matter how Yoongi tries to back out of it. 

- The sun already set so you can’t exactly see everything but the moon hangs over the sea like an old friend, lulling the three of you on Yoongi’s back into the soft wakefulness that only a stressful day can bring. Yoongi and Namjoon are  two opposites, Namjoon’s wings taking in the moonlight and almost reflect it, whereas Yoongi is an unseen shadow as he follows the lighter colored and smaller dragon east until the city’s glow is faint on the horizon.

- The yellow light of windows dot the countryside along with other mansions, Yoongi tells you later that most of the councilmen prefer to live within the city limits, but Namjoon felt he needed a little more breathing room. 

- The manor house (or small castle really) is built for a dragon, tall windows with shutters and tall glass windows. it’s bricked not with red stone but smooth white river stones stacked on each other. It’s extensive gardens and pathways extend all the way to the edge of the Seacliff, the ocean turning below a spare 50 feet from the back patio. 

- a massive greenhouse swallows the western edge of the building, almost dwarfing the manor house, it’s so dark and dense with foliage that you barely see it until you land in the lawn, the grass tall and speckled through with wildflowers turned grey in the ample moonlight is soft underfoot. when you slide off of Yoongi’s back to land softly. 

- It’s late enough that neither Namjoon or Yoongi protest when you decide to turn in basically the second you make it into Namjoon’s entryway. The head housekeeper is a kind-looking woman with a cloud of curly hair that almost hides her dark brown horns, her eyes almost as orange as the candlelight, pressing you to take all of your things up to the guest wing while a youth helps her carry your bags. 

- Both of your sons rub their eyes sleepily, almost knocking into one of the tall vases full of flowers tucked into the alcove by the door. And the though Hoseok furiously apologizes no one seems too mad at him, the housekeeper seems to look at them with softness too, Hoseok basically holding Jungkook up, something else in her eyes as she looks to you and offers to bring up some soup and some warm milk as well. 

- Yoongi holds gently to your arm as an attendant helps Namjoon divest of his councilmen’s robes, your sons already trudging up the stairs after the woman who helped you with your things. “I think Namjoon and I have some catching up to do, will you be alright with the boys?” Namjoon chimes in “our guest suite is extremely comfortable- if you need anything please tell Muji and she’ll get you whatever you need.  

- You nod slowly at namjoon, Yoongi’s hand coming up to grip yours lightly on the railing of the staircase. “Of course,” you say, putting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in to give him a kiss that he returns soft, his hands splaying on your hips, hands twiddling with the lacing that sits on the small of your back. “Enjoy your talk you old lizards” you tease, making yoongi and Namjoon laugh. You head up the wide staircase, 

- Namjoon’s house is lit with enough of those glowing orbs that you don’t need a candle to see, and below you hear Namjoon mutter to Yoongi, “to think after all these years you’ve finally found one to make you soft” “oh shut it Joon- you’re twice as bad if not worse with jimin.”  

- The guest wing in Namjoon’s house is comfortable with a main bedroom, a secondary bedroom with two smaller beds, a study, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a balcony that looks over the ocean the door already open to let in the cool sea breeze and alleviate some of the balmy heat that lingers from the day.  Hoseok and Jungkook are a little more subdued in their exploring. Now that you think about it- you realize you’ve never stayed in a house this grand. 

- Your old cottage was a hovel, and your student dorm at the medical school you’d attended only slightly worse, even when you’d been a child, you’d been passed from relative to relative, always shoved in back rooms or closets for space. You’d never- not until Yoongi- really been given enough space. 

- It’s not that you were abused or mistreated, it just that having such a large family in such a world with so little hardly made it easy. You rarely think about your family now, or what little of it might remain. You hadn’t been well taken care of as a kid, left mostly to your own devices, and you don’t feel guilty- you never have, for suddenly disappearing with Yoongi a little over 3 years ago.  

- But oh, how different your life is now, how different a life you’re giving your children. Hoseok shifts and climbs onto the big bed in the main bedroom. “careful of your claws Hobi” you remind him as he settles with a humph in the generous display of velvet throw pillows perfectly arranged at the headboard. Jungkook beside you lists into your leg and you tug him up into your arms, nearly already asleep and relaxing against you fully.

- Hoseok only wakes when the housekeeper shows, plopping a bowl of soup and some bread on the small table and setting down a dish of warm milk on the bedside table. Hoseok’s snout pokes out from under the pillows and he hums in thanks, his tongue darting out to lap it up.  

- You thank her while you try to wrestle Jungkook into some pajamas, the youngers so uncoordinated in his sleepiness, you don’t realize until you’re in-between the rich sheets and pressed to the cloudlike softness of the mattress that it’s the first time you’ve slept in a real bed in a few years.

- You also realize you’d seen hide nor hair of Namjoon’s mate, but you guess that can wait for tomorrow. Yoongi’s told you more than a few stories about the dragon and fairy couple, and you’d begun to look forward to meeting Jimin a little bit.

- In your sleep, you dream you’re running through a garden, searching along the edge of a camellia path for someone, something, red and white and pink flowers leading the way. You hasten into a run and break out into a wide space, a dark curly colored head shoots up, hands hovering over a lily blossom, dark eyes on you.

- “You shouldn’t be here.” he says, voice deep and melodic. his lips purse, and he plucks one petal of the lily, you watch as the petal hardens to glass in his hands, shattering with a tinkle when he drops it. “but I guess I’ll be glad for some company after so long.”

- You wake with a start, the sun shining through the open balcony doors and the smell of lily’s stinging your nose, the sea ebbs and flows the lul of crashing waves clams your sudden panic. Yoongi’s face pressed into the nape of your neck. He grumbles when you sit up, pulling you back in close, “too early” he mumbles, pressing slow and sleepy kisses against your bare shoulder, the strap of your nightgown slipped down. You don’t remember when he came in, but you guess it must have been late.

- You turn to press a kiss to his sleepy face, eyes still closed, his mouth tugging up into the gummy smile that you love so much as you cuddle in closer. But your bed is suspiciously cold and absent of your children, and you know with a new place to explore they must have been too excited to sleep, you internally blanch when you think of the mischief they must be getting up to.

- but the bed is warm and even more comfortable When Yoongi grumbles and turns to scent mark you, and you hope that namjoon or the housekeeper is keeping an eye on them, at least for a little while longer so you can enjoy a quiet morning with yoongi. The events of yesterday come crashing down on your shoulders like a lead weight. yoongi stills by your throat, sensing your sudden discomfort. You ask Yoongi about the soul bond.

- he sits back against the pillows tugging you close to rest your cheek on his bare chest. his rough hands drawing aimless circles on the skin of your back. “It’s an old kind of magic Usually between two dragons not of the same family. it’s kind of an assurance to keep groups together really.  It’s been a long time since they’ve regularly happened- and usually- it only happens when dragons are under stress” he looks down at you where you pepper kisses on his chest. “Now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense that Hoseok would need one after losing his family.”

- “Is it usually romantic or platonic??” you ask, feeling something strange curl in your stomach, trepidation maybe “it’s not like a mating mark is it?” you can’t help but feel like you’re out of your depth here, there is so much information about dragon kind that you’d been unaware of. you hadn’t realized how little you’d known about their basic political system or even their education system until you came to the city and heard about the flying school and magic academy.  

- “No, it’s platonic mostly- it’s more like-” Yoongi gives a frustrated sigh “Namjoon has a soul bonded partner that isn’t Jimin- you know Seokjin-“ “your sorcerer friend that I haven’t gotten around to meeting yet? how many others do you have across the globe that you won’t introduce me to?” 

-Yoongi nips at your jaw playfully, “can you really blame me for wanting to keep you to myself my love?” he growls, suddenly flipping you over and pressing your back into the soft mattress, his hand riching up your thigh- taking your nightgown with it.  the pads of his fingers are careful and slow as they press in. 

- By the time you and Yoongi truly rouse to join the rest of the house for breakfast on the patio, your sons have absolutely terrorized the staff and Namjoon, who seems to eye them with something like appreciation, the book in front of him forgotten. Watching from the head of the table with amusement as Hoseok shifts to be able to reach across the table for more butter better and then shifts back. 

- The fresh bread smells sweet and cinnamony and Jungkook seems to already have eaten his fill with sweet elderberry preserve smeared across his face. Jungkook prattles to namjoon a mile a minute and asks about a billion questions about the ocean, mermaids, and pirates from the sound of it.

- He drops off abruptly and smiles when you and yoongi appear from the double doors. “mom you gotta try this it’s so yummy!”  Hoseok pouts back, “I’m telling you the strawberry is better,” he holds out a little peace for you to try and the lump of jam slides off the side and onto the table cloth. 

- You apologize for the mess but the same head housekeeper just gives you a smile and says that they’d both love to show you the ocean when you’re ready for some exploring today. They’d already made the climb down to the water's edge, and Hoseok tells you that there is a little private beach at the bottom and a set of stairs perfect for you and Jungkook to take. 

- Jungkook and Hoseok’s hair is already curly from the saltwater. as you comb through Hobi’s curls and sit down next to him, yoongi sits across from you next to Jungkook, already prepared with a cloth to wipe his cheeks. yoongi grumbles, “how in the world did you get it in your hair Koo?” he says as he dabs at Jungkooks black curls. 

- Both Yoongi and Namjoon are a little more subdued than the rest of you- having stayed up late into the night to talk, but you make polite small talk with namjoon about the book he’s forgotten about, and he promises to show you the library at one point “though really- Jimin’s the one who has a thing for collecting books” 

-“No wonder the two of them get along,” you say, nudging yoongi with your foot. and it’s true- a seizable portion of Yoongi’s hoard in the mountains back home consists entirely of books. rare ones, old ones, “do you hoard books or more of just- some of the usual stuff?” you don’t see any cases of splendor, fine fabrics or jewels, only the brightly colored roses that line the patio glimmer.

- Namjoon blushes, his horns- once again turning pink in his silver hair, “Uhm no- I hoard other things- you know I’m an ice dragon right?” you nod. Even as the sun starts to warm into mid-morning namjoon looks unbothered by the warmth. a gust of cold air coming from him whenever he shifts in his chair. “well- the reason why I moved south in the first place is because my hoarded object is plants and there aren’t very many that grow where I’m from.” 

-Suddenly, the variety of roses and the gardens that swath the property makes sense, as well as the greenhouse that almost dwarves it. “of course, I’m not that great at taking care of them- Jimin helps me a lot- really where is he- I should go get him or else he’ll sleep away the day-” 

- It's funny, one-moment Namjoon’s staff are setting you out some sandwiches, namjoon is just sitting up to go get jimin and the next moment a man, a very naked full-sized man, is falling down onto the table. His bare feet knocking the teacups over,

- You have a face full of very pert ass, nothing on him save for the lacelike wings spurting out of his back, his blonde hair curling at his nape. “you called for me? lover?” he purrs “I was wondering when you where gonna come back to bed-“ he starts, voice low and seductive,

- You barely get your hands in front of Hoseok eyes as yoongi smacks both over Jungkooks. Namjoon- sat on the other side of the table- gets the full view going bright red, his horns the same color as the roses behind him.   

- “Jimin!” Namjoon screeches, tone scalding. Yoongi starts to laugh.

a/n: A ‘hoarded object’ is the object that a dragon feels the instinctual urge to collect. there are four types of dragons, the type that does not hoard at all, the kind that dosent mind what they hoard as long as it’s shiny (Hoseok, though he does show a preference over gold things vs. silver), dragons that have a slight preference (yoongi- he’s not really sure if he likes books a lot, or if it’s his hoarded object), 

and the last type, dragons that hoard one thing and only one thing, this can be literally anything- lamps, pets, teacups, rubies, beta fish, or in namjoon’s case- plants, though he does have a preference for things that flower and bonsai cherry trees. 

If you liked this chapter please consider donating to my kofi! 

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts #bts fanifc #bts fluff #min yoongi #park jimin #jimin #jung hoseok #hoseok #jeon jungkook #jungkook #kim namjoon #namjoon #minjoon #kim namjoon x park jimin #bts hurt/comfort #aged down au #bts angst #bts fantasy au #bts fanfiction #bangtan sonyeodan #bangtan boys #bangtan fic #bts fantasy #bts au fic #yoongi #bts yoongi #hopekook #bts dragon au

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two / Part One | Hades

Hey lovelies this isn't completely done (this chapter, I mean) but this was a good spot to post it because it's been a while and I'm proud of this part. The next part will be about the same length (I'm guessing) and will be the long awaited bathtub scene! enjoy, and sorry for how ramble-y this chapter is. It's on purpose LOL!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: PTSD in action on both parts, self-loathing

Word count: 2.7k

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Master List

Maybe saying yes is the wrong answer. It certainly goes against the protocol his commander explicitly told him to follow.

Stay inside, Barnes. Keep the curtains closed, limit the amount of lights on inside the house. Don’t let her out of your sight— not even for a second.

It was all basic, day one things that any rookie would know. Bucky is a lot of things but he isn’t a rookie— he’s been around the block his fair share of times and then some. Still, the last thing his commander had told him rings through his ears as he crosses the threshold of the Wilson’s family residence and feels the sun, warm and steady on his face— and on his one, good arm— for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Be a ghost, Barnes, or you might just become one; you understand me?

Bucky had answered yes, again— obviously. Maybe that’s just a thing he does; saying yes when he doesn’t know what else to say. Saying yes when he should be saying anything but.

But what?

But it’s not like it really matters— there was no other choice that time. He’s a soldier, he was given his orders, and— whether he likes it or not— Bucky always follows his orders.

The door creaks shut behind him, a little loud for his liking but the sound of the willow trees snapping in the yard are enough to drown it out for the most part— Well, Bucky always follows most of his orders.

That was also before everything went straight to hell, though— before no one thought to tell him that he's not dealing with a victim; he’s dealing with a survivor. Fucking military— he should have known they’d leave the important details out. They’ve been shoddy since the forties, always squirreling away information from the little guys. Eighty years later, one hundred and six years old, and he’s still a little guy. No closer to gaining an invite to the big kid table than he was at twenty-six when he still had two good arms. If anything he’s further away now, begging for scraps when there was once a point in his life where he at least had a seat somewhere.

With someone.

Nothing’s changed— nothing will change and he doesn’t expect it to— but this time there’s a difference.

There’s a big one.

It’s the canyon between grief and watching your family get slaughtered in front of you; the insurmountable jump from longing for those you’ve lost and having them ripped away from you so violently that you can’t function. Can’t sleep. Wake up scared. Jump away from every touch, every noise, like every shattered vase is out to personally kill you—

Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell him that the girl he’s supposed to be protecting has PTSD? He may be old— the term may be different now— in his day they used to call it shellshock— but it’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Nothing ever changes; not really— not for him.

Soldier.

Scientist.

Same fucking difference— the signs are still the same and she has all of them.

He would know— he should have known from the moment he walked through the door— they should have told him!

He saw the pictures. Saw the scarlet circles and lifeless eyes and blood. Fuck, there was so much blood and that was just a grainy photpgraph from a junky projector! He couldn’t smell it— couldn’t taste it— through the pictures but he has an imagination— well, what’s left of one at least. He can’t say he didn’t leave most of his creativity in those hills of Austria— gods only know he left most of everything else there— but even if he had left all of it he wouldn’t have to dig far for a memory of his own. They don’t tell you as a soldier that fresh blood smells like rotting honey— that it lingers in your clothes and hair and on your goddamn lips for hours.

Soldier.

Shooter.

Fucking psychopath with a gun and one arm and snow still shoved so far down his throat that he can’t breathe—

No, if they don’t bother telling their soldiers then there’s no way anyone thought to tell the cherry pie angel. They probably thought it would ruin her sweetness. They probably didn’t even think to tell her at all. Bucky definitely didn’t. He should have. If he had, maybe he would have been able to catch her before the flies ate through her wings completely. Maybe if he had just done his damn job instead of being sucked in by the sticky marmalade of her laughter then he would have seen the way she was melting right in front of his face. July in Brooklyn does that to a person.

It brings the flies to the cherry pie.

The flies to the rotting honey.

The flies to too fucking late— he had twenty-four hours and instead of doing something he just let her sink. Some guard dog he is.

Bucky watches as she gingerly sits on the edge of the white swing, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She lifts her feet as soon as she’s down, toes hanging a good few inches off the ground as they curl around the thick bayou air, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. They never touch the bamboo mat and her eyes never lift from the shoreline— not even when he takes a couple measured steps towards her. It’s unnerving, to say the very least.

“We can’t stay out here too long.” Bucky isn’t used to speaking this quietly but it feels like if he doesn’t level his voice to match the whispering of the wind across the bulrushes then he’ll be hurting her more than he already has.

Her answer isn’t any louder than his— the only reason he even hears it at all is because he refuses to look away from her. He only hears her because his eyes are already on her lips, willing her to stop sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. Please, please, please stop—

“I just need a few minutes.”

Her eyes are wide and rimmed with red, toes continuing to work against the breeze with the same automatic movements. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. He doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to work the feeling back into them— or maybe like she doesn’t know that she’s doing it at all. Hell, if the way her eyes have glassed over means anything then he would wager that there’s a good chance she doesn’t even fully know she’s outside. Yeah, that’s shellshock alright. Clench. Unclench. Clench. He doesn’t realize he’s copying her movements until his jaw aches.

Unclench.

“I know, doll. I—” He finally tears his gaze from her rigid figure— from her bruised lips— looking as well to the horizon. Maybe she’s on to something; maybe the waves will tell him how to help her— “I know.”

Can they tell him how to help himself? He shuffles forward again, stopping at the edge of the swing, gaze sweeping from the water to the barriers of the premise. Who is he kidding— of course they can’t. This isn’t about his salvation anymore. Those days have more than come and gone. Now it’s about hers— it’s about an assignment and keeping ten toes and ten fingers connected to two legs and two arms. Right now is about an order and Bucky Barnes can certainly follow orders— maybe that’s all he can do.

He gives the shaking girl who— despite everything— is swathed so prettily in the shade of the porch another once over.

Maybe but maybe not too.

Maybe he can’t follow orders at all.

Maybe he can’t afford to think about it for too long.

Because if he can’t follow orders then what can he do?

Bucky is still staring at her when she speaks again but her sudden words still make him jump nonetheless. “There’s room.” Her voice falters for a moment, lips hanging open and eyes faraway, before she continues. “If you want to sit, I mean. There’s room.”

He shouldn’t— he knows he shouldn’t, sitting isn’t a part of his orders— but he does. He couldn’t say no to her if he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

He definitely doesn’t want to say no to her.

“Sure.” Her voice is barely a hum— barely there at all— and he can’t choose whether to look at her lips or her fingers, which are now following suit.

Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

It’s an impossible decision— much like the ones from his days as a soldier— but it demands a choice from him nonetheless— unlike the ones from his days as a pawn. Her nails drag over the wood, snagging every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Clench. Can she even feel him next to her? Back in the day— before that day— he used to watch his comrades do the same thing. He used to do the same thing. Sometimes he still does. He knows exactly what he would want someone to do for him.

He makes the choice for an impossible decision, wrapping his hand around hers until their fingers are laced together. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

It seems to work, if only marginally, because she stiffens for a moment, fingers flexing around his. Bucky can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, the way she grips his hand so unsure of herself. Is she unsure of herself, though, or is she still lost somewhere in the depths of her mind, drowning in her rotten honey thoughts?

Her hand stills— an answer in itself— before her voice, slowed as though stopped by lips that have been glued shut, sounds. “Do you ever feel like you’re drowning?”

It’s not what he’s expecting but what else is new— neither was she and yet he’s here, listening to the moments they’re allowed to be outside— all of zero moments, that is— tick away as her toes clench and unclench.

Tick, tick, tick— what would his commander say.

“Yes.”

Steve used to ask him the same thing, Bucky adds silently, but only when they got older.

He supplies, “I think maybe that’s a part of being human.”

Tick, tick, tick— his commander wouldn’t say anything, he would just put Bucky on probation.

Still, he doesn’t rush her— he can’t. He won’t. She just told him she’s drowning; he’s not going to be the ocean to her frenzied attempts to stay afloat. He’ll just hold her hand, and keep looking over her shoulder, and then over his own, and when the time comes he’ll tell her they have to go, because that’s what she’s expecting. He would know— there have been times he’s wanted someone to do the same for him.

Tick, tick, tick— this is worth probation.

“I don’t think I like being human.” She hums back.

No, Bucky wants to say— no, I don’t either, doll.

Being human sucks and he’s not very good at it. He would know, he’s been a lot of things— been compared to a lot of things. Robot. Popsicle. Dog— yeah, he’s a real jack of all trades and so far human isn’t near the top of his ‘favourites’ list. Maybe that’s because if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be any of the other things either— maybe if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be so easily turned into a monster.

Tick, tick, tick— maybe.

Tick, tick, tick— have his thoughts always been so disorganized?

Tick, tick, tick— maybe it’s the shellshock.

Bucky doesn’t say any of that, of course.

What he does say is— “What would you like to be instead?” —as if he can make everything all better himself.

He can try, at least. He’s been compared to a slave too. Being hers doesn’t sound all that bad.

Thunder rolls over head and it sounds more like a grandfather clock— or the impatient tapping of his commander’s fingers— than anything Bucky’s ever heard. Still, he waits to move. Tick, tick, tick. He waits for a lot of things.

Bucky waits for the sky to turn grey— for the first droplets to mix with the salty bay air and blow against his neck and face.

It’s familiar, the sticky, salty rain, and he isn’t expecting it.

He isn’t expecting Delacroix to remind him so much of his own home in Brooklyn.

He isn’t expecting the way that sitting next to this soft creature feels so much like sitting on the docks with Steve the summer before his enlistment. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning— Steve had said it at one hundred but he may as well have said it then, at eighteen, too. Because little did Bucky know, Steve had always felt a little bit like he was drowning and now Bucky, at one hundred and six, always feels a little bit like a bad friend.

Like a bad brother.

Like a bad dog— he should have scented it out all those years ago but instead he just waited.

Tick, tick, tick— all he does is wait.

Bucky waits for her to squeeze his hand once more— for her tiny fingers to alert him that she’s ready to move.

Maybe if Bucky had waited until Steve had told him that he was ready all those years ago then Steve would have waited for Bucky to be ready too. Because as he sits here, his skin turning swampy in the sticky, salty rain he realizes that no, he wasn’t ready for Steve Rogers to leave him behind.

He wasn’t ready to face the world alone.

He wasn’t even ready to face Brooklyn alone. Sometimes he still waits at the deli for him and orders the hero sandwich because even though he doesn’t like the absurd amount of pickles, Steve always had. Maybe if he eats enough— and waits long enough— then Steve will come back.

Tick, tick, tick— for a man who isn’t patient, Bucky Barnes sure does do a lot of waiting.

Bucky waits for her answer— because that’s what matters most. Not Steve’s wishes, not his commander’s impatient tapping, not even his own nostalgia that’s starting to make him, too, feel like he’s drowning. He used to love swimming in the Atlantic but when he licks his lips and tastes salt he’s sure it would take a miracle to get him to go in again. It would take a hundred years— or maybe just eighteen— and a push from a man who left Bucky almost as fast as Bucky had left him.

“I want to be a god—” she says it so suddenly that he jolts, eyes scanning their surroundings before realizing it’s just her determined, honey hollow voice sounding from next to him— “I want to be god— or invincible— or anyone but me, I think. I just don’t want to be me anymore. So yeah, I want to be a god.”

She still sounds so far away. Like she’s underwater— like Steve that time he wanted to see if Bucky could hear him scream from under the surf. He couldn’t but he told Steve he could. It doesn’t matter anymore— not right now. Only she does and her airy confession.

It makes Bucky’s heart clench and, as a reflex, so does his hand.

He releases the pressure accordingly— in his hand, not his heart— unclench— and as he does she adds— “and I want to take a bath.”

In that moment, despite his worry for her, he’s ecstatic she isn’t looking at him because if she had been then she would have seen the way his jaw drops. It takes him a moment to answer— a moment to pull himself out of the gutter his frozen-robot-dog brain drags him to— but he settles on one thought in surprisingly record time.

He can’t make her a god but he can sure as hell watch her back if she wants to take a bath.

He can’t make it all better but he can do that no problem.

So of course he stands, squeezing her hand one last time before saying, “okay, doll.”

Maybe Bucky is following orders after all. Maybe it’s a matter of choosing which— whose— orders to follow.

____________

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[whenisitenoughtrees]

still taking prompts? got rlly excited for a bit when u said u were bc i enjoy ur style a lot. anyway, lamp/calm for prompt #29? the prompt sounds like smth chaotic they would do lol

this is less chaotic and more tooth-rottingly fluffy, but uh here you go

for #29. Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!

Title: overthinking (darling we’re just fine)

Word Count: 1,963

Content Warnings: gratuitous discussion of breakfast foods

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

“Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!”

He hisses the words out entirely too loudly in the silence of the corridor, and Virgil winces as the sound dies down. In his defense, it is six in the morning, and he is hardly thinking straight. Or rather, coherently. And Roman knows it, too, is smirking at him with that stupid handsome smirk of his, and Virgil would seriously consider kissing him if it weren’t for the fact that he is running on roughly three hours of sleep, and his irritation is spiking.

“Now, storm cloud,” he says, voice just below a normal speaking volume, “we all know that Patton’s going to be dead to the world until at least seven thirty. You don’t need to worry so much.”

And, alright, maybe that’s true. But Virgil glares at him, too tired to deal with the slightly patronizing tone of voice. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Roman lifts an eyebrow. “Darling, I think I’ve done a bit more than meet you, at this point—”

“If you two are done making unnecessary noise?” It’s Logan, coming back around the corner, and he does not look impressed. Though, that may be because it’s six in the morning, and Logan never looks impressed about anything until his second cup of coffee. “By my estimates, we have one hour and seventeen minutes before we enter the window of time in which Patton is most likely to wake up. That should be enough time to complete all of our tasks, if we begin now and don’t commit any egregious errors.”

Virgil exchanges a look with Roman.

“Right, lead the way, Lo,” Roman says, and Virgil trails after the two of them, his brain fixing itself on the phrase egregious errors, because of course it does, because it’s him, because he can’t make it through one morning without his mind insisting that something is going to go terribly wrong and also that the world is ending.

He breathes in and out, slowly and deliberately. It’s just breakfast. They’re just making breakfast for Patton, because Patton has been sad and distant lately and nobody is quite sure how to help him, but doing something like this for him might cheer him up a bit.

So many things could go wrong, of course. They could burn the food. They could burn themselves. They could make such a mess that the prospect of cleaning it all up will put more stress on Patton than cooking the meal for him will alleviate, and then he’ll be even more sad and distant, and also, the world will end.

He’s trying not to think about any of that. Trying and failing. This sucks.

“Do you both remember your parts?” Logan asks. He’s tying an apron around his middle, black and utilitarian, but it suits him, somehow. Roman answers in the affirmative, already rattling around in the cupboards for the pans he needs, and Virgil gives a short nod.

Logan is making an omelet, one with all the fixings that Patton likes, ham and cheese and onion. Roman has insisted on making blueberry muffins from scratch, because he’s Roman and he has to be one hundred percent extra one hundred percent of the time. So, that’s left Virgil in charge of protein, and he’s chosen bacon. He knows how to make bacon. Theoretically, bacon is easy; you put it on the frying pan and flip it at the right time, and viola. Bacon.

So he stands there, watching it sizzle. Logan is next to him, keeping a close watch over his omelet on the stove top, and he serves as a steadying presence, reminding Virgil that he’s fine and that he can do this, and that bacon doesn’t take a very long time anyway, so even if he messes up, he can do it again. On Logan’s other side, Roman has commandeered the entire counter for his ingredients. He’s mixing them together and humming to himself, a jovial tune, and it’s still too loud but Virgil feels better about it than he did a few minutes ago.

He finishes the first batch, and frowns at the strips. They’re definitely cooked through all the way, but they’re a bit floppy, and a realization strikes him: he doesn’t know how Patton likes his bacon. Chewy or crispy? Or somewhere in between, with some crispy bits at the edges and the rest softer?

Oh god, the world is ending.

He must make a noise, or a noticeable motion, because Logan glances over at him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“Chewy or crispy?” he manages to say, though his throat has clenched up like a vice. He is well aware that he’s making too big of a deal about this, that it’s just bacon, for crying out loud, but he’s running on so little sleep and it’s so important to him that he gets this right, that they succeed in making Patton feel a little better, and in the face of that, imperfect bacon might as well be the worst catastrophe he’s ever faced.

Logan’s brow furrows. “Are you talking about the bacon?” he asks. “You know, I’m not actually sure.”

He groans, staring at what he’s already made. It might be fine, but then again, it might not be, and if it’s not—

“Virgil,” Logan says, a bit of amusement creeping into his voice. “Please, breathe. Overly processed meat products are not worthy of your distress.”

“But—”

“No,” Logan says, “none of that. Even if we don’t know which he prefers, I find it unlikely that he will reject it out of hand if it’s crispier or chewier than he likes. And besides, if it would ease your mind, there is still plenty of time to make more, and that can be crispier than this first batch, so he can choose what he wants.”

He closes his eyes, nodding, turning over the words in his mind. As always, Logan knows exactly what to say to bring him out of a spiral.

“Right,” he says, and then again, because it’s reassuring to hear it out loud. “Right.”

Logan smiles at him, and then, almost too quickly to process, presses a soft kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He feels himself heating up, especially when he hears Roman laugh a bit.

“There we are,” Logan says fondly, and Virgil doesn’t see so much as sense Roman sneaking around to his other side. He anticipates the kiss, smacked against his cheek, wet and sloppy. He turns to glare, but Roman grins back at him unabashedly.

“I hear it’s loving Virgil hours?” he asks, and Virgil resists the urge to groan.

“It’s ten ‘til seven,” Logan says, but dashes Virgil’s hopes by following that up with, “though I’m not sure why the time matters. Every time is a good time to love Virgil.”

“Oh my god,” he says, and prays that his blush isn’t as obvious as he thinks it is. He may not have much dignity left to speak of, but he has a little bit, if he can hang on to it. “Isn’t it supposed to be loving Patton hours? Can we focus on that, please?”

“We can multitask,” Roman singsongs. “Muffins going in.”

Wordlessly, Virgil steps aside to allow him access to the oven.

“Actually,” Logan says, leaning against the counter with a self-satisfied expression, “the human brain is not designed for true multitasking. This is what makes speaking on the phone while driving so dangerous; if one attempts to accomplish multiple tasks at once, the ability to do all of them is severely compromised.” He pauses. “Though I believe Roman’s point does stand.”

“Of course it does,” Roman says airily. “We have so much love to go around.”

Logan concedes the point with a tilt of his head, but any attempt at stoicism is ruined by the grin twitching at the edges of his lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and dumps more bacon into his pan, but he has to admit, he does feel a lot more relaxed.

Which was probably their goal all along.

They finish up breakfast. Logan makes several omelets that are up to his standards, and Roman’s muffins come out of the oven perfectly baked, soft and crumbly on the top. And Virgil makes another batch of bacon, crispy this time, and then one more for good measure, just to make sure there’s enough of both kinds. Roman goes about setting the table for four, back to humming quietly to himself.

Virgil tunes into the sound on instinct, letting the ebb and flow of Roman’s voice ground him.

Logan surveys the spread of food with satisfaction. “Some fruit, perhaps?” he suggests, and Virgil veers over toward the fridge, digging through to find some strawberries. He’s washing them up when there is a sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and everyone else quiets.

Virgil turns to see Patton standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and his first thought is that he looks like crap. His hair is still mussed from sleep, and he has a thick blanket draped across his shoulders, but that’s not what catches Virgil’s attention; it’s the bloodshot look in his eyes and the bags underneath them, pointing to at least one restless night, if not more. It’s a look that Virgil is used to seeing in his own mirror; he doesn’t like seeing it on Patton.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan says softly. “We made breakfast for you.”

Patton blinks owlishly, and for a moment, his face is completely blank, as if the words haven’t registered with him at all. Then, his eyes flicker to the table, and then to the mess in the kitchen, and go wide.

“You did all this for me?” he asks, his voice small.

Roman drapes his arms over him from behind, kissing his cheek just in front of his ear.

“Of course,” he says.

“We’ve noticed that you haven’t been feeling well lately,” Logan adds. “We hoped that this might help you feel better.”

A smile breaks out on Patton’s face, then, thin and watery and wavering but there all the same, and it is such a relief to see that Virgil feels as though a physical weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Patton gestures toward Logan, who steps forward obligingly into the hug, and then Patton looks to Virgil, who is still hovering awkwardly around the sink, hands full of strawberries, and, well. He can never deny Patton anything, and a group hug sounds nice, so he sets the strawberries down on the counter and moves to join them. It’s a big, warm embrace with Patton in the middle, and Virgil sighs as the last of his tension drips out of him, leaving him uncommonly relaxed.

“I love you guys so much,” Patton says. “Thank you.”

“Love you too, Pat,” Virgil murmurs, and though his voice gets a little bit lost in between the other two saying much the same thing, he knows that Patton hears him, because he turns to him for just a second and smiles, brighter and more genuine, and really, that makes all the stress of the morning completely worth it.

So, they have breakfast, and it’s good, and Virgil notices that Patton doesn’t seem to have much a preference between the two types of bacon, but that’s more than alright, because the point is to make Patton a bit happier, and the small smile on his face says that they’ve succeeded at that. So maybe the world isn’t ending at all.

Because Virgil would rather die than say something so cheesy out loud, but he’s got his entire world right here, sitting around the table in the early morning light, food and company and love to spare.

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