#which is an awfully vulnerable thing to put here but i am not asking for your sympathy i am just saying i was tender and a bit insane

[msmargaretmurry]

"slow goodbye" leon/matthew

back at it again with the fic title prompts!! i have a few of these left and i am Determined to get through them by end of the long weekend. i was going to do more of them today but instead i went and bought a bunch of plants, and then i had to be responsible for all those plants. happens to the best of us.

(also, to the anon who send a pov flip ask like a month ago at this point — i promise i haven't forgotten about it! i will get to it. hopefully soon!!!)

ANYWAY: y'all can't get mad at me for this, because i didn't pick the title, and the title is CLEARLY for a breakup fic. i'm feeling something set during the 2022 battle of alberta series.

i think for this one i would lightly plagiarize myself by yoinking the structure i used for send me off to a foreign land, with play-by-play of that last game of the series breaking up the scenes leading up to it.

so matthew and leon have been doing the frenemies with benefits thing for a while — let's be cliche, let's let them have first hooked up at the 2020 all star game — hooked up one other time that season, then didn't again for a while because of all the covid chaos, and then started up again during the 2021–22 preseason and have been going pretty strong all season. they're not friends, not really, but they're both kind of soft at their cores, so hooking up a bunch has unfortunately fostered some fondness between them. and by "fostered some fondness" i mean that they're a little obsessed with each other. not that they'll admit that. possibly they won't even admit it to themselves.

the oilers get to town for the playoff series a couple days before game one and they decide, okay, let's just hook up once and then we're not talking to each other until the series is over. surely this is a good and fine plan and nothing could go wrong. leon sneaks off to matthew's for the evening, a process that is far too familiar by now. matthew offers him a beer, but won't be having one himself — he doesn't drink during the playoffs — so leon abstains as well. it feels a little weird because they usually have a drink first, but everything already feels kind of weirdly charged in a way leon can't quite put his finger on, so — whatever. they stare at each other in the foyer for a moment, and then matthew asks, "do you think this is a bad idea?"

leon says, "do you think it's ever really been a good idea?"

"fair enough," matthew says. they go upstairs, have some sex that is somehow tenderhorny and fucknasty at the same time. is it a teensy bit possessive? perhaps! there's just something about it that already feels strangely final. probably because whichever of them loses this playoff series is going to hold a grudge about it forever. possibly too much of a grudge to keep doing this. matthew is careful with leon's ankle without ever actually acknowledging out loud how transparently bad the injury is, which for some reason makes leon feel awfully vulnerable.

afterward when they're lying together all sweaty and naked, not quite cuddling but not quite not cuddling, after a long silence, matthew says without looking at leon, "i don't think i'm gonna re-sign in calgary."

"what?" leon asks, then, "why are you telling me this?"

matthew shrugs. "i don't know. i wanted to say it out loud, i guess. and i can't say it to anyone here yet. and i don't want to say it to my family yet. obviously if, you know, we win the cup or whatever, maybe i'll change my mind, but. i dunno. i think it'll be good for me to get out of here."

leon spends a long minute turning all of this over in his head and trying to process the strangely strong feelings he has about it. about matthew telling him — about matthew telling him, specifically, because he doesn't matter enough to keep it from him.

eventually he says, "well, you're not winning the cup anyway. because we're gonna kick your ass."

matthew snorts, but rolls onto leon to kiss him, and they don't wind up going again but they do make out for a very long time.

meanwhile in game five, leon is fully focused on the game, except for some fleeting moments between whistles when he finds himself looking for matthew. he's pretty sure matthew is injured, and he can't figure out if matthew was injured when they hooked up and he just didn't notice. the game is an absolute battle, lots of trading leads and tying it back up again, so he really needs to fucking focus. his foot feels like it's going to fall off. he wants to win so fucking badly.

and then — they do win. leon sets connor up for that otgwg and they are so relieved and so happy, and it's not until he's shaking matthew's hand in the handshake line that he realizes that the other night felt final because it was final. no one else in the world knows that matthew is probably leaving calgary, but leon knows, and he wishes he didn't. because if he didn't know, then he wouldn't have to wonder where he's going, and how much futher away it'll be.

he texts matthew after the game, even though he knows matthew won't want to hear it: good game. and good luck this summer.

matthew texts back: thanks. take care.

#i mean. obviously later in life they'll get back together. #but probably not for like 5–10 business years #and that would be another story entirely #ask #writing meme #matthew and leon #hockey for ts

[knife-at-a-knife-fight]

this post is scheduled a far bit out so you can’t tie me to a date and long enough out that i’ll forget about it and not take it down before it goes up (bonus points if i’m not on here when we hit the scheduled time) because i can’t be trusted to just be helpful once in a while when doing so involves being honest with people who are determined to make that difficult and painful but protip; hey is that comment i made kinda off? did i say something oddly argumentative? does doing what i just did seem awfully out of character for me? do i seem like i’m trying to piss you off and being weirdly cryptic about it? Do I care about something I really have little reason to, like you struck a nerve on something i have no position to be making a comment about? Did I start something with only an infinitesimal amount of wiggle room to claim plausible deniability? 

Well might i introduce you to: ✨ critical thinking ✨  If you, person i know, are sitting there going “why the hell would he do that?” then my top recommendation, much to my own chagrin (and ultimate self loathing; for i’m in a “hey maybe i should open up to people a bit” mood but i’m not exactly someone people give a shit about routinely so this would be out of place to say to people straight up; and i will later resent myself for giving away some of my best tactics so readily), would be to ask “hey this is odd, is something up?” If you’re not in the mood to deal with my shit (fair point; no one really ever is), you are always welcome to tell me to fuck off. 

Why, you ask? Well, most readily, i’m an asshole. Unfiltered, I am an asshole. “But you value that filter immensely, where did it go?” you make a fair point, me asking the disembodied questions. I do value that filter immensely, and it’s not gone, it’s very much there, what I said was a choice, and a self detrimental one at that. “What’s self detrimental about that?” Well it annoyed, frustrated, or pissed off the other person, didn’t it? It made them not want to deal with me - maybe even made them say it real clearly (see above point about fucking off for clarification on what this could mean)? 

For someone who is constantly effortfully avoiding being a burden on others (while low key wanting someone to care) yet has a lot of people relying on them, isolating myself is difficult. Yes, I can easily bank on no one asking about me, that’s a given, but i really can’t bank on others not coming to me with something about themselves. So if i want to be left alone without people questioning why, the answer that has worked very well thus far is simple: don’t ask them to leave you alone; get them to ask you to leave them alone. Make it their choice. Don’t push them away, make them push you away so that they think you’re just doing them a favour and respecting what they’ve requested. 

“Okay but also why the absolute living fuck would you do this?” Again, great question, me asking the disembodied questions. It’s a bit of a combination of reasons. the one you try to tell yourself is that it’s for their benefit; if you put them in a position where it is more than reasonable to not be doing anything and to not want to be there at that time, then you can’t be let down by them. Put them in a position where it’s Your Fault that they don't try, and you don’t have to worry about them refusing to try of their own volition.  Secondly, being vulnerable with people who have left you hanging and have deeply fucked you up as a result is hard and painful. And we can avoid having the opportunity for that vulnerability, let alone for them to respond poorly to it, if we detach ourself from them. And additionally, we can avoid resenting their indifference-at-best or their dedication to dropping you on important things if we don’t give them a chance to be there. 

“But that doesn’t really answer why you would do this. Like what’s the situation in which you would do this, not the theoretical self ascribed value of it?” I gotta say, me asking the disembodied questions, you are absolutely crushing it today, this is why i love you, this questioning is sublime, you really care about getting to the root of it and you be picking up on the minor deflections and you are not having it; very well played. Of course the details vary but in short: something is up. Like Mr Mulaney said to whom we can only assume is Al Pachino, “I’m not feeling too good, dog.” If they know something happened, it might be that, there could be more to it that they don’t know about. or more likely, there are whole other things that i’ve not spoken about At All. If you, person i know, find yourself in this situation, i think the first point of consideration is simply; what do you know about me in relation to the present moment? Do you know what’s currently bothering me (if you answer yourself, then you do NOT know what’s bothering me)? Do you know what things are going on that are taking a toll on me? Are the only things you know about conceptual? Do you know about any active, existent, tangible, pressing issues or concerns? And secondly to consider; have i been pulling away? And as established, do you know what it looks like when i do? Have you been pushing me away? Did i orchestrate that (bonus points if i did it by being right about something to make it less obvious)? Have you actually heard about me recently? Do you know where I am during this conversation if it is by phone or text? 

When I feel like hell I’m not likely to give myself the chance to be further hurt - even if that means destroying the chance to receive support. I hate gambling with my wellbeing. The odds have to be mighty fine or i have to be doing damn well for me to be willing to do that. Being alone hurts less than being denied help again and again and again. 

This isn’t a call to action, it’s an explanation. “yeah but i don’t want to deal with you when you’re being an asshole, idc why you’re doing it” I know. That’s why i do it. I prefer to blame myself than someone else. I prefer it be my fault. 

tldr; if i’m being weirdly argumentative out of seemingly nowhere then in my own self destructively masochistic way i’m trying to protect you by ensuring you don’t have the chance to fuck things up as i am aware that i’m trending downwards and don’t want to negatively impact you by removing you from the situation before i feel worse, while also avoiding too great of suspicions by making it seem like the distance was your choice or desire alone rather than mine.

tune in next time to learn about my impressive ability to deflect questions and avoid answering things - and how this isn’t because i don’t want to discuss the topic at hand, but rather the opposite!

#this is the first of 6 of these #i'm going to forget about these #i'm pretty sure i'm busy at the scheduled time #but i'll be surprised if i let more than two of these go up #a lil 'how to' for dealing with me #except i hate telling people that directly #because if they know the playbook and still watch me fall through the cracks #then there's no benefit of the doubt left to give #this is for someone specific but if you think it's you then it's probably not #mine #i should probably tag these as a group in some way #uhhh group

[buckyodinson]

Relax

Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Summary: you have a headache and Zemo offers a few remedies

Word Count: 1.2k~

Warnings: none! just some fluffy Zemo content

A/N: thank you anon for requesting this!! And again, I used some little Latvian words in replacement of Sokovian!

You were laying across the sofa when Zemo reappeared from the bathroom. You were rubbing your temples as he sauntered over to you.

“You have a headache, yes?” He spoke softly as he perched himself on the armrest by your feet.

“Just a small one, but I’ll be fine.” You answered him, continuing to rub your temples but not opening your eyes.

“I will make some tea.” He drawls and moves to the kitchen.

You crack an eye open and watch him as he walks away. You’re surprised to see him in a bathrobe and lounge pants, walking barefoot.

He puts the kettle onto the stovetop and busies himself preparing everything else he needed, while you watch him.

There was something domestic about the way he moved around the small kitchen, and you could imagine the pair of you moving around one another as you made breakfast together on a Sunday morning.

Zemo was even humming to himself under his breath as he prepared the tea, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. He snuck a glance at you and you quickly turned away, facing the ceiling again, heat creeping up your face.

He smirks at the reaction he caused and almost commented on it when the kettle started to whistle. He quickly removes it from the stovetop, reducing the noise that disturbs you.

“The tea is almost ready, mīļā.” He calls softly and you sit yourself at the table opposite Zemo as he pours the water into the teapot. You’re intrigued now you’re up close, seeing the tea has some kind of blossom in it, which gives the tea a lovely pinkish hue.

For a man with very questionable morals, and who has done terrible things with seemingly no regret, he is an awfully good host. He has constantly given you and the boys food and drinks, and even little sweets. You know deep down, past his hatred for superheroes and his perhaps violent tendencies, he’s actually a very sweet man.

He further proves this by placing your tea in front of you with some painkillers, as well as a cold compress for you to hold against your head.

“Thank you Helmut.” His eyes widened at your use of his first name. Up until that moment you’d only referred to him as Zemo, but now you were alone with him, you decided you’d use his actual name.

“You’re most welcome, saulespuķu.” He grins, and you catch a small blush creep up his cheeks.

“What does that mean?”

“... it is Sokovian for sunflower.” He admitted quietly as he raised his mug to his mouth and took a sip, the blush on his cheeks deepening in colour.

“You’re sweet.” You smile shyly back at him as you take a sip from your own tea.

You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping your drink, feeling your headache slowly start to melt away.

“You are more than welcome to use the bath, if you wish. I find a hot bath always soothes a headache, myself.” Your deep sigh in response was enough confirmation that you would accept, and Zemo chuckled as he excused himself to the bathroom.

Within a few seconds you heard the bath running, and Zemo re-emerged in the kitchen, busying himself with washing up the mugs and teapot.

You muttered a thank you as you passed Zemo and took yourself off to the bathroom. You blushed when you noticed he had put some kind of bath salts into the water, which had started to create a layer of foamy bubbles on the surface.

You wasted no time in stripping and lowering yourself into the hot water, resting your head back onto the bath pillow Zemo has set up for you. This was definitely the fanciest bath you’d ever had the pleasure of laying in.

You’d been in the bath a matter of seconds when you heard a knock on the door. Figuring the bubbles were providing good enough coverage of your body, you decided there was no harm in letting Zemo enter.

“Come in!” You chirped.

“I’ve brought you some- oh! My apologies, mīļā.” He went red and looked everywhere in the room but at you when he realised you were already in the bath.

You chuckled at his nervous mannerisms, “It’s okay, Helmut. You can look at me.” He slowly faced you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the blush painting his face.

“I... I did not know y-you had already got in. Otherwise I would n-not have disturbed you.” He stuttered out.

“It’s really okay. After all, I’m the one who told you to come in, when I knew full well I was already in here.”

“Well, yes. I guess that’s true.” He smiled nervously and then he remembers why he knocked in the first place, “I brought you some clothes to change into. I apologise if they don’t fit quite well, they’re all I have here.” He places them on the countertop and stands a little awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with himself.

It’s your turn to blush this time, as you realise they are his own clothes, and they look very similar to what he was wearing at that moment too. The bathrobe looked exactly the same, and the trousers looked pretty similar, perhaps just a slightly different colour. And he had provided you with a shirt. You presume if he was wearing a shirt, it would probably look the same as the one he was giving you.

“Thank you,” you said for what seemed like the millionth time that evening, “for everything. You’ve been so welcoming, considering everything that’s happened between you and us. And I’m sorry, by the way.”

He perched on the edge of the bathtub by your feet, “Well, you were not involved in the events that led to my interference with your friends, so there is no need for you to apologise. I guess I must thank you too. For not treating me like a criminal. I know I am one, there is no hiding from that, and I’m sure James and Samuel would have warned you about me before meeting me. But you’ve just treated me like a normal man... a friend, even.”

You were shocked by the honesty and vulnerability Zemo was showing you, and damn it, if it didn’t make you fall just that bit further for him.

“Well, if we ignore the little incident with Nagel,” you widen your eyes a bit and Zemo smirks, “you’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me.”

“Well, I’m sure most men try their best to act gentlemanly in your presence?”

You scoffed, “Not in my experience.”

“Then you have not met the right men.”

“And you suppose you’re the right man, then?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Perhaps.” He shrugs and stands up, running his fingers along the rim of the bath briefly before stepping away.

“I will leave you to relax now, saulespuķu.” There he goes using that nickname again, and here you are a blushing mess over it again.

“Thank you, Helmut.” You say once more as he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

You sigh and sink further into the warmth of the bath, wondering how you were going to move forward with this mission, now that your feelings were starting to get involved.

~

mīļā - darling/sweetheart

saulespuķu - sunflower

~ 

Zemo Taglist (please comment or send an ask if you’d like to be added):

@noavengers

#zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x y/n

[dreamii-yume]

im weak for scenarios where the boys lust after a teacher!reader. Epel's the sort of boy that'd use his adorable looks to make her lower her guard and then..you know ;) ;)

I am equally as weak too, Darling (╥﹏╥) I can feel it in my KNEES.

Warnings : Non-Consensual Touching | Yandere | Toxic Manipulation | One-sided Teacher-Student Relationship

He’ll definitely pull that one stunt he did in Chapter five where he pretends to be all vulnerable and weak just so he could take advantage of Darling’s weakness.

Like— Yume can definitely see Apple boi purposely failing his class to catch Sensei Darling’s attention. It’ll either be you who approaches him about it or Epel himself if he’s impatient enough. With just a few tears and pitiful sniffs here and there, Darling Sensei will instantly be alert and comfort him about it. He’ll eventually get you to teach him afterschool, going to your office sometimes unannounced and becoming a full-blown teacher’s pet. He’ll listen to you talk religiously with a beautiful smile that never leaves his face, and even asking for a few questions just so he could scoot closer to you and feel your skin against his.

This behavior would only get worse in the time of his birthday as of course, you’d be invited but oddly enough— I don’t see Epel doing anything DURING the party. The real time where this boy shines his desires is right AFTER the celebration where he’ll personally invite you to his room. You’d have no choice on the matter, he was begging for you to come and teach him that one principle in alchemy since he has an exam next week! Maybe it’s just your teacher’s intuition and morals, but you just can’t ignore a struggling student, especially on his birthday. So, you get in his room, noticing subtle details like how neat and quiet it is as his roommates where nowhere to be found, but not noticing how Epel had to cover his mouth to hide an excited smile as he swiftly locked the door with a silent click.

You don’t know when or how, but you would soon notice that this little study session doesn’t seem as...normal as before. For one thing, Epel doesn’t seem to be listening to you anymore and with his cheeks resting on his palm, you initially thought that he was becoming sleepy. But when you were about to call it a day, you instantly noticed how much his eyes were burning into you. He’d smile like before once you started to call out for him, but it was obvious that there is definitely something off about him. “Sensei, are you going already?” He’d ask as soon as he noticed a shift in your breath, his tone disappointed with his eyebrows scrunching together in sadness.

You gulped, knowing how weak you are when it comes to a student’s puppy eyes. “Yes, but maybe we can continue this tomorrow? You should get some rest.” This was when you started realizing how rushed you sounded like, your tone of voice was too similar to someone who just wants to leave this place as soon as possible. You sincerely hoped Epel didn’t notice, but of course, it didn’t seem to escape him at all as he placed a hand over yours as soon as you tried to stand up from your seat.

“You’re leaving...? Already?” He’ll pout his lips, eyes shining as if tears were about to come out soon. “But we still haven’t gotten to that part yet, Sensei.”

Now, that got you confused. Part? What part? You’d rack your head for what he was talking about and how that confusion shows upon your expression so clearly just...amuses Epel to the core. I feel like this would be the point where he wouldn’t be able to keep up the weak boy facade anymore and lets out a condescending snort, still trying to cover his mouth. “Cute.” He’d say, which would instantly catch you off-guard as chills ran up your spine. But whether he slips up or not in that moment doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that he’s prepared for it and now that you’re in his room, you’re not leaving until you give him that one present that only you can give.

He’ll trap you; he won’t even let you move an inch from where you’re seated and you wouldn’t be able to because he’ll move faster than you can expect. Capturing your lips before you could even think was his first move, putting his hand on each of your shoulder to keep your body down and viciously attack you with his tongue. You’d probably widen your eyes and try to move away, struggle, or anything that can get you out of this dangerous situation but Epel knows how to use the advantage he has. He knows how you won’t hit or use magic against him because that’s not the kind of person you are, you won’t ever hit a precious student of yours. The whole world will judge you for it, and your pride wouldn’t allow that.

But still, you’d be understandably dumbfounded by what happened and Epel will absolutely take advantage of that, giggling ever so elegantly to mesmerize you even more. “The truth is...I’ve liked you for a long time now, Sensei.” He confesses, a line that he obviously had practiced over and over again as he takes off his suit and unbuttons each one skillfully. “That’s why, I want you to continue taking good care of me.”

You can’t protest, not when he begins to sit on your lap in a reverse manner, seductively wrapping his arms around your shoulder. You gulped as nervous sweat forms on your forehead, scared to how outsiders might perceive a student like Epel clinging into such a dangerous position with his teacher. You can tell him to stop or get off, still trying to be as professional as you can but the only response he gives you are those small, wet kisses on your cheeks and lips. Epel has no intention of hearing you out, shutting you up by indulging in your lips deep once again but this time his hands travels your body, slowly pulling your outfit down to reveal some skin. He’ll grab the hand that was pushing him away and guide them towards his chest and down to a more...dangerous place where a teacher like you should never touch.

You’ll panic because of this, trying to pull your hand away from his crotch, but his grip was awfully strong and tight. One that you never would expect someone as fragile-looking and feeble as Epel to have. “Hey, Sensei...You’ll help, won’t you? You’ll take care of me, right?” Epel asked again and just when you could describe his eyes to be that of an innocent fawn, his expression suddenly twists into that of a smug individual. “I mean...You have to, right?”

It was as if he just couldn’t keep up the act anymore, his voice deepened to a lower volume, giving it a sardonic feel upon reaching your ears. “You’re...already touching me this much, Sensei.” He said in a sickeningly sweet tone, a blush was painted across his cheeks but he was clearly mocking you for falling for such a cheap act. He leaned forward once again, wrapping one hand around your neck with a wide, egoistical grin on his face. Lovesick eyes burned deep into you with no intention of letting you go any time soon, an expression that made you sweat profusely that you just can’t help but gulp in response. “...Aren’t teachers supposed to be the to take responsibility for their own students?”

“Hey, Sensei...Isn’t that just the right thing to do?” He whispered as he was quick to clear out the evil in his face and brought out the good boy persona that you were so used to. But now that you have met his other side, you can’t help but feel how just as unstable this side of him as the other one...It wouldn’t even be a full stretch to say that this superficial expression might be the one who’s even more dangerous. “Sensei...Please teach me.”

“What do you really want to do?”

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #epel felmier #yandere epel felmier #yandere #Birthday Crumbs (Epel)

[stxleslyds]

I have read your thought about the Batfamily, now I really want to know your thought about the one who started it, the Batman himself. We can't ignore the fact that Bruce is abusing his children, but there's also some moments where he's being a good father to them. But some of his act doesn't make sense.

He's beating his children, then calling them his son after. He act like a mad man after Damian's death (yeah, they did Jason dirty in here), feeling sorrow and desperately wanting to ressurect him, but then neglecting him continously in the future. I didn't know much about Cass, Bruce seems to always be a good father to her. But her fans once pointed that Bruce (or DC) is too hard on her to not killing/too soft on the others, because the other batkids has killed some villains while under Batman and still got to continue putting on their costumes.

What is exactly Bruce character? How is his relationship with every one of his children?

I feel like Batman can't be in a good relationship with one of his children without destroying his relationship with the other. I always love parents and children relationship in comics, but with batfamily sometimes it just so 'fanon-y' and some are hurtful.

I stopped reading Batman book for a long time. And come back reading that wedding and city of bane arc, because I want to know how they killed Alfred. And honestly those run are terrible. The issue basically just a batcat fanservice, with the worst Batman and Catwoman characterization ever. The batkids didn't even got many appearance and treated awfully as if they are just extras, even if they all are capable and have connection with Alfred.

Hey there Anon!

My thoughts on Batman and Bruce have changed over the last few years, he wasn’t the character that introduced me to DC comics but what I got to read from him at the time seemed good. As time went by, I started to feel like the whole concept of Batman was overrated and he kinda tired me in entertainment such as movies and all that. He never truly was a character that I actually liked so by the time that I read Under the Red Hood I knew that I liked Dick and Jason better than Bruce.

Batman was interesting but I was completely indifferent about Bruce. That whole thing changed around the time that the New 52 was sort of ending, there I started to heavily dislike Bruce and then that turned into pure hate. Now, I am just tired of the guy and every time that he appears in Dick or Jason content my day is ruined.

I hate that DC has been writing Bruce as an abusive and manipulative person and father to his “kids”, he has done a lot of wrong to them in comic history but all went to shit (in current comics) when Bruce tried to manipulate Jason into reliving the day that he died and his resurrection in Batman and Robin vol2. #20 and when he beat Dick and manipulated him into becoming a spy after telling him that he had told everyone that he was dead in Nightwing vol.3 #30.

Bruce was a horrible human being in the pre-New 52 timeline too sometimes, mostly towards Dick but in a way, it felt like Dick was able time and time again to get away from him a little bit. Now none of his kids are given the opportunity to turn their backs on Bruce, they are kept in his surroundings no matter how abusive he becomes towards them.

My biggest problem with Bruce’s abusiveness is the fact that the writers never treat it like he acts in an abusive way, they never make him apologize or have an internal discussion where he realises that he was in the wrong. “Bruce is a horrible person to his sons but it doesn’t matter because he is right and he is Batman so that’s that”, that’s the message that I feel DC is selling us. Bruce never receives punishment or is called out for his behaviour, Dick was never able to tell Bruce that what he did to him was unforgivable, he never got the chance to explain to anyone that he didn’t play dead, and when he came back from Spyral he took all the shit from his “family” himself.

Sometimes DC does something even worse, they try to hide Bruce’s neglect with things that never happened like they did with the Ric thing in Dick’s case. Dick was passed around from villain to villain when he was most vulnerable and at the end of it all DC had the guts to say that Batman had been watching over Dick all the time. Like, why lie in such a blatant way? Does Bruce enjoy watching his son suffer from a far or was he too much of a coward to tell Dick that he was a shit father, got stuck in a hole and then decided to play “Cat and Bat” with Selina instead of caring for any of his children?

The situation with Damian’s death and resurrection was a whole thing that was meant to prove that Bruce loved Damian and considered him his son. But in their effort to make Bruce look like a good father to Damian they completely destroyed his relationship with his other kids and that was also the start of Bruce referring to Damian as his ONLY son. And like you said after Damian was resurrected Bruce ended up neglecting him afterwards which ultimately led Damian to run away.

His relationship with Cass and Duke is something that I cannot explore because I am not into those characters and they are involved in books that I am not interested in. So I cannot say anything about that.

With Tim it’s complicated because I feel like his relationship with him was never actually father/son it was more like mentor/mentee and that seemed to work better for them, ever since they started the whole family thing Bruce started to act a little bit too rough towards Tim and that ended with Bruce punching Tim during the “City of Bane” arc. Bruce never apologised or was shown realising his mistake, but DC made sure to explain that Bruce was going through a rough time so that’s why he did it. It was pure rubbish and I dislike it a lot.

I answered an ask a while ago about how I thought Dick and Jason could become family the way that DC treats the “Batfamily” within comics and I came up with the idea of the “Dickfamily” because I felt like DC made a big mistake the moment they revolved the Bat family around Bruce and not Dick. Bruce is a character that is known for being lonely and for being surrounded by darkness that he only manages to escape through the light of Robin (Dick Grayson because he was the first), he was always depicted as someone who is hard to work with and considers his teammates only co-workers and not friends. He is a difficult person to connect with, so why on earth did DC come up with a family surrounding that man? (I actually know the answer to that question and it is: money, DC did it to sell more comics under the Batman name but we are going to forget about that here, let me be petty).

Why would DC make it all about a man that doesn’t connect or goes out of his way to say that he “works alone” when Dick Grayson is standing right there? DC hates that they created a character like Dick because he is just better than Bruce at everything, he just is, he is better family to Alfred, Jason, Tim and Damian, he was even written as a better father to Damian than Bruce ever was!

Bruce is just not a people person or a person that forms strong bonds with people. And that makes the whole “Batfamily” concept suffer and come off as something forced that doesn’t actually work.

Tom King was one of the writers that tried to kill the concept of the “Batfamily” with Bruce and Selina becoming a couple and by continuously saying that Selina was who was the most important person in Bruce’s life and the one that made him a better person. All Tom King did with that is make fans and non-fans of the “Batfamily” feel rage. Like, I might not like the “Batfamily” but there is no way that Selina comes first to Alfred, Dick or Damian, there is just no way and if that were actually true then that’s boring.

All the writers that have pushed the “Batfamily” concept (try) do it in a way that makes it look grand and of actual essence but without putting any work on it, if you ask me the “Batfamily” (if there has to be one) should only include Bruce, Alfred (he do be dead though), Dick, Tim, Cass and Damian (I suppose Duke too, I don’t know much about him). The “Batfamily” has to be small because that way you can actually build relationships and make them matter. Having Kate, Steph, Jason and so many others involved in a concept that was made to fit around Bruce looks stupid! Bruce has had almost zero connection to Kate and Steph in the last ten years and Bruce’s “relationship” with Jason is a complete joke!

Bruce is just not the character that is meant to be surrounded by too much people, and he is not a good person towards his family so the whole ass concept should be thrown to the trash and finally let it die. But money is important and if there is something that DC will never stop doing, is milking Batman for content that can be (sometimes) pretty basic.

All in all, I think Bruce sucks and that his “kids” shouldn’t be dragged back to him ever again or at least for a long while. All of them would actually benefit from not being involved with anything relating to Batman. Dick could benefit from Bruce and other Bat-related characters staying away from him and letting him live his life in Bludhaven. And Jason? My sweet Chonky? He would be in such a better place if Bruce disappeared from his life, imagine the actually good books we would have if Jason was free to act the way he was meant to do as the Red Hood…

(We saw a little bit of that in the back up story of Detective Comics by Rosenberg, Batman is still involved but he and Jason are definitely not on the same side of the story! So excited for Task Force Z!)

I don’t know If al that I just said answers your question but I hope you have a fantastic week Anon!

#batfamily #batfam #jason tood #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc comics #asksss

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕃𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕍𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣 ~

The mystical bookshop on the opposite end of the street seldom had customers but your boredom was getting the best of you, having just moved to a small town without any acquaintances. The last thing you expected when entering the dusty bookshop was a handsome boy glimpsing at you from behind his glasses. Maybe this innocent boy could cure your boredom? 

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤: SMUT ; bookshopowner!Jeongin x fem!reader. Virgin!jeongin, switch!reader x switch!Jeongin, strangers to friends, blowjob, handjob, penetrative sex, unsafe sex (careful pls), light humiliation, corruption kink, nicknames, orgasm (m/f), cum (outside), mentions of possession. 

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.7 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: This is a collab with a bunch of other (hella talented) writers [ @milkym00n​ @seungmoomin​ @gothicstay​ @hyunsluvv​ @lilixeu​ @moonlit-lixie​ @binniesbrat​ ] so please read their works right here!! (love u guys and thank u Serenity for including me ><)

ALSO! thank you guys so much for 400 followers ack i wanna hug every single one of you~!

The ivy green building on the corner was rarely visited. It’s white pillars with gold swirly capitals looked inviting as you had just moved to the apartment complex across the street and were in need of some entertainment, having moved to a new town all by your self. Through the cloudy show window you saw litterary classics leaning against small mahogany painting aisle and crystals in all different shapes and sizes, all scattered across a velvet maroon piece of cloth. 

You leaned against the window, sheilding your eyes from the sun using your hands as you looked inside but to your disappointment you saw nothing but your own reflection. The warmth of the sun radiated on your back as a cool breeze stinged your cheeks. ‘It sure would be nice to sit in the small shop and read’ you thought as you wrapped your hands around the chipped golden door handle, pulling it down and being exposed to the smell of bound books.

The bell above the old wooden door rang as you entered through the rusty ivy green door, embellished with small colored glass panes. 

“Welcome to I.N bookshop, how can i-” 

Jeongin peeked from behind a big book, fascinated over how such a cute girl had entered his dusty little shop. His round glasses covered most of his face,  light pink cheeks hiding behind them. Putting the aged leather book away he stood up from his seat and scratched his thick, slightly curly black locks. This situation was unusual to say the least. The shop was after all only sought out by elders that wanted to find the books they had read in their teenage years when youth still glowed around them. 

A smile spread across your face as you saw the young boy shifting his eyes over the piles of grubby books, some of them piling up hindering you from coming closer. He blushed upon the state of the store but promptly walked up to you, keeping his eyes glued to the creaky floorboards underneath his feet. 

“Oh, hi u-uhm... I’m Jeongin! Nice to meet you” he said sheepishly, eventually sneaking a glance of your cute face. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m y/n! I just moved across the street a couple of days ago and have just been staring at the shop from my window. Thought I might...c-check it out”.

You felt a shyness creep up on you, shifting your skirt slightly as you felt Jeongin’s looming eyes on your cleavage, silence widened over the small wooden cabinet-like shop. 

Jeongin snapped back into reality after you looked at him questionably, your head tilted as you tried to cover yourself from his predatory gaze with your hands. The curly haired boy gulped before shoving his delicate veiny hands into the pockets of his black dress pants. 

“Uhm.. so.. w-what do you usually read?” he asked while peering up. Looking into the same direction you saw a cozy half loft nuzzled into the far right of the shop, a corroded ladder being the only way to get up there. 

“I like pretty much anything,,, d-do you have any favorites?” you asked shyly as your gaze returned to the floor, seeing books piled up around your feet. 

He laughed timidly as he made his way over to the rusty ladder, stepping over heaps of untouched books and guiding you to do the same, kicking and pushing some piles away.

“I usually sit up there and read so all of my favorites are hidden from the customers heh...” he anxiously grabbed the back of his neck, looking down to the left as he spoke. 

“We can sit up there if you like!” Jeongin added, his voice getting excited since he gets to talk about his favorite literary works with you! Shyly, you nodded as your hands wrapped around both sides of the ladder, stepping onto the first step. Cautiously you climbed up and with every step you could see more of the loft unfolding in front of your eyes, your gaze on floor level. Jeongin decided to help you by holding the ladder, making sure you didn’t fall but this soon proved to be a mistake. He looked up with the intention of seeing how far up you’d gotten but his eyes landed underneath your skirt, your light pink lace panties on display for his puppy eyes to see. His breath hitched upon seeing the outline of your cunt and his hormones were flying like sparks, causing a painful erection to form inside his boxers. 

After what seemed like an eternity of fumbling on the ladder you finally stood on the half loft, carefully peeking down to see Jeongin still gripping the ladder while his cheeks were flaming red. 

“uhm,,, you coming up or..?”

He cleared his throat as he looked up, seemingly lost in thoughts. 

“Yeah,,, totally” he said awkwardly while climbing up. You offered him your hand as he neared the loft which he grabbed, seizing the opportunity to hold your soft hand that were enhanced by small gold rings and a bracelet. His heart was in his throat as your touch effected him more than he thought. He coughed to clear the nervosity from his gut but to no avail. 

When his hands travaled down to his pockets that’s when you noticed the tent between his two legs. A thousand thoughts flashed through your mind as your body came to a standstill. Should I run away and never look back? Should I help the poor boy? After all, he seemed awfully lonely enclosed in these 4 walls all day long and so were you, not having anyone to contact in the new city. 

Jeongin noticed your stiff figure, the light mumbling of a radio being heard from the white speakers on a small coffee table next to two old mustard yellow armchairs. Your eyes eventually met his. His gaze was as sweet as honey and his musky scent enhanced by the aroma of the ancient books. You felt yourself tensing up, your crossed legs clenching as you broke the eye contact with the fox-like boy. His eyes hooded whilst being filled with a bashful aura. 

“Kiss me”

You blurt out without even thinking. The neediness in your cunt growing wetter by every minute. Jeongin’s eyes brown orbs widened. 

“W-what...here? Now..?” 

“Don’t act dumb. I see...t-that” you glanced down at his erection for a split second, gulping as you saw the size. 

Flustered, Jeongin tried to cover himself from your eyes as a hot flash descended down his body. His blushed state, his innocent eyes hiding behind those black wired glasses and his veiny hands peeking through the paws of his dark blue sweater made you just wanna slam him against a wall, taking his innocence from him. 

You inched closer to him, his face in level with yours due to your similar heights. Your head tilted slightly, a pleading expression contorting across your features as he stared at your plush lips, wide eyed. His delicate hands form into hard fists, trying his best to not let his loneliness get to him. 

But he’s too weak. 

Cupping your crimson cheeks, he pulls you into a deep kiss and without hesitating you kiss him back on his precious coral lips. Your hands explored his body and to your surprise a toned abdomen was hiding beneath his warm appearance. Coaxing his tongue, you lick his bottom lip, moaning into the kiss as his hands stroked your back and gropes your ass. Heat rose to your cheeks as your cunt was sopping, having not been touched like this for a while but you weren’t the only one reacting this way. Your hands wandered down before momentarily stopping, you hesitated before palming the dark haired boy through his slacks but was pleased once you earned a moan from his petal-like lips. You pulled away from the fiery kiss, smirking as you spoke in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Sensitive babyboy, I barely touched you” 

He stiffens in your arms that were wrapped around his waist, his eyes settling anywhere but on yours. With a cocky smile you grab his tiny face by the jaw and force him to look into your lustful eyes. 

“You’re a virgin, right?” you asked with a smile on your lips.

“N-no,, no I’m not!” Jeongin huffed out, visibly flustered. 

“I don’t like people that lie”.

Your cold voice scared Jeongin but the fear added fuel to his neediness. He needed you. You pushed him down, the boy landing in one of the dusty armchairs with a thump.

“Y-yes I am a...v-virgin” 

He hesitated uttering those words, his lip quivering from the sexual tension but he also felt vulnerable, not having anyone to talk to about such matters. Jeongin watched you with hungry eyes as you pulled your shirt over your head, disheveling your hair in the process.

“What you staring at? Come on, off with your clothes” you said as you pointed towards his member. He obeyed in an instant but not losing eye contact with the soft skin that you revealed once you stepped out of your skirt that was now pooling on the floor, leaving you with nothing than your bra and panties. Jeongin’s hands were shaking as he tried to unbutton his pressed slacks. You rolled your eyes at his pitiful attempt. 

Your knees hit the wooden flooring as you helped him remove his pants, Jeongin bucking his hips slightly causing you to pull them down the entire way. Embarrassingly enough his precum had already created a wet stain on his boxers which made you snicker. You trace along his clothed dick with your fingertip, feeling him pulsating under your touch as blood accumilated between his legs. 

“How cute. Babyboy is throbbing from anticipation, isn’t that right?” you cooed to which he glared at you, mad for being humiliated by someone he barely knew but secretly enjoying it in his perverted fantasies. 

Upon pulling down his boxers you were greeted by his erect member that was barely touching his clothed abdomen. Your mouth watered from the sight, how fine purple veins snaked up his shaft and how his sensitive carmoisine tip glistened with a droplet of precum trickling down. You glanced up at his slightly puffy face and he nodded as if you had just asked him for premission. Using the tip of your tongue you lapped up his precum like an animal, eager to taste his sweetness as you pursed your lips and inserted only the tip into your wet mouth. 

Jeongin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped onto the armrests for dear life, his orgasm already looming around him due to his inexperienced nature. Your hands stroke his inner thigh wanting him to relax but that was the last thing on Jeongin’s mind. If he relaxed he would cum faster and that would be too much embarrassment to handle in one day, especially in front of you. Your pursed scarlet lips cascaded down his shaft as your hand wrapped around the part that wouldn’t fit down your throat. Small whimpers were heard from the boy with glasses everytime you lifted your head upwards, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip before plunging down again, all whilst your hand jerked off his girthy base. It didn’t take long before the poor boy was unable to controll the lewd noises that pierced your ear like the sound of music. For his every moan you got wetter, those pathetic whines of his causing you to dig your nails into his thighs, holding back from marking him up with hickies and showing him that he’s your new playtoy. 

The high-pitched moans mixed with the subtle murmuring of the radio still going in the background, the sloppy sound of your spit as you bobbed your head intensely driving Jeongin closer to his release. Just as he felt him twitch between your cheeks you pulled off, kissing his tip before looking up at him with doe eyes. The expression that haunted his face was priceless. You smiled at his bedraggled state, his twinkling eyes and heaving breath signaling that he was lost in pleasure moments ago. 

“Liked it, babyboy?” 

He nodded in agreement before grabbing your narrow wrist and standing you up, pushing you against a bookcase causing a couple of lightweight books to fall on either side of you. His mouth was dangerously close to your ear, his body close enough to radiate heat.

“But don’t call me that”. Jeongin’s voice changed, now more raspy. 

“Aw, does babyboy get shy when I call him that?” you ridiculed him but soon regretted it when he raised your eyebrow at you before turning you around and bending you down, you hands grabbing onto the shelf. 

“Hey! You can’t ju-”

Your moan cut you off as the tip of his cock entered you with ease, your juices almost dripping down your leg from the arousal as he pushed your panties to the side. Jeongin hissed as his member advanced into your throbbing pussy, desperate to feel you around his sensitive shaft. Small whimpers spilled out your mouth as he felt much bigger than he seemed, moving at a slow pace yet still hitting your g-spot with every thrust. His cold laugh sent shivers down your back where Jeongin’s hand was stragically placed in order to keep you bent down, the other hand wrapped around your hip.

“You’ve been fantisasing about this, haven’t you?” he groaned to which you tsked. 

“I think you’re talking about yourself, babyboy. With your nose in those books all day you surely must have read heaps of erotica.” 

He slammed his hips against yours making you mewl out in pleasure, trying to hold onto the shelf but only knocking down more books.

“Don’t c-call me that!” he defended himself from the shameful nickname you had given him but you couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“You’re adorable, you know that babyboy?”. Your gibbling laughter annoyed Jeongin causing him to push you back, his big hands wrapping gently around your neck and choking you slightly making your high-pitched whimpers more frequent. His pace quickened as he was nearing his orgasm and you could once again feel him twitching, only this time he was twitching inside your sopping cunt which further caused the knot in your stomach to tighten. 

“J-jeongin,,,f-fuck”. Shutting your eyes you saw a spectrum of colors fly by as your head spinned from the impending orgasm. The dark haired boy smirked, his eyebrows furrowed as he thrusted into your squelching cunt, the filthy noise completely muffling out the babble of the radio. Being his first time he was annoyingly good, pleasuring you in the ways you were longing for. 

A broken moan erupted as the hand around your neck descended down, stopping for a moment to give your nipples a twist before settling at your swollen clit. The fast circling movement of his long fingers paired with his relentless thrusting made you see stars behind your stinging eyes. You were unraveling at the seams in his touch but so did Jeongin, his final thrusts sloppy as a string of whines left his soft lips. 

Your legs gave up on you when you finally released, the knot in your core melting away as your juices coated Jeongin’s aroused dick. Jeongin crashed his hips against you one last time, the impact causing your butt to bounce against him. He pulled out quickly, dick twitching in his hand before his hot semen ran down your buttcheek as you were panting, holding onto anything on the dusty and creaky wooden shelf. 

Jeongin last cries echoed in your ears as he milked his dick out of every cumdrop, his glasses slipping off the tip of his nose. The hot substance quickly cooling off while trickling down as you tried to stand up, putting a hand onto Jeongin’s shoulder. 

“Y-you good?” he stuttered, scared that he’d hurt you.

“Yeah... think so” was what you managed to say before falling into Jeongin’s sturdy embrace. He let out a surprised squeal as he caught you, snickering quietly at your struggle to hold yourself up. 

“I guess I’m your first friend in town now” he smiled shyly as you looked at him naively. Blushing profusely, you looked deep into his dangerously sweet eyes that were rimmed by his thin wire glasses.

“I guess you are”. 

#stray kids smut #skz smut #jeongin smut #stray kids fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #skzsmut #skz fanfic #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #straykidsxreader #skz x you #skz x stay #skz x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin x y/n #jeongin x you #i.n smut #i.n x you #i.n x reader #i.n x y/n #kpop fanfic #switch!straykids #switch!skz

[1kook]

commercial break ; ONE

a netflix & chill drabble  this follows directly after disney+ and bust !

summary; Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same. warnings; none unless u count yn bullying him as one miscellaneous; yn is regina george thats it word count; 1.3k

notes; u guys may be like “u feed us so well!” wrong i obsessively post bc I'm never satisfied with my work, like in d&b i really disliked the lack of resolution so here i am writing one the day after god bless lmk what u think xxxx

Because Jungkook is Jungkook and cannot go three minutes without profusely professing his feelings to you, the apology gets old real quick.

“I’m sorry, y’know,” he says in the middle of dinner, idly picking at his plate. It’s Chinese tonight, sprawled across the kitchen counter that overlooks your living room. The Bee Movie is playing on TV, a movie you hadn’t seen in years yet still managed to put a smile on your face. But you know what wasn’t putting a smile on your face? Jungkook ruining this movie experience with his fourth apology of the night.

You nod through a mouthful of rice, eyes zeroed in on the screen. “Uh huh,” you hum, foot idly bumping against the leg of your chair every few seconds. “That’s great, honey.”

He sighs. “I’m being serious,” he stresses. “I think, maybe you should like…” a long pause you use to shovel more food into your mouth while the bees on screen go to human court. It was a wild ride. Were they on crack when they pitched this idea? You would have been. “Punch me in the face or something,” he offers after a moment.

You quirk a brow in his direction, finally abandoning the film on screen in favor of turning to face him. “You want me to use you as a punching bag to help you get over your hurt feelings that you developed from being an asshole to me.” Jungkook nods. You shrug. “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he says, face paling as you roll your shoulder around. “You’re gonna hit me? Like for real?” You raise your brows, as if that’s obviously what you’re going to do.

“Well, you asked for it,” you respond, giving your wrist one final flick before rearing it back. His eyes flutter shut tightly, pouty lips pursed together in a thin line. Your fist comes barreling, ripping through the air in an insane, Fortune 500-like speed, and then—

“No,” Jungkook groans, touching the spot where you lightly flicked his forehead. His bangs saved him from most of the impact, but even without it, it was barely more than a teasing poke of your finger against his skin. “You need to like, beat me up.”

You snort, turning your attention back to the screen. “You know, you’re beginning to sound a lot like me these days, Jungkookie,” you point out, fork scraping across the plate. Jungkook sighs, dropping his head onto the countertop in defeat. “Very childish.”

He lightly bangs his head across the faux marble, a strained whimper filling the air and ruining The Bee Movie. “Which is why you need to hit me or something, I don’t know. Make me pay for how horrible I was to you the other day.”

“I’m not gonna hit you,” you say, “because that would mean the next time you get mad at me, you’d hit me.”

“I would never!” he exclaims, eyes wide and round. Gone was the perfectly put together Jungkook, in was this sloppy mess of emotions. “Besides,” he says softly, cheeks a warm rosy color as he goes back to picking at his food, “you’d never wrong me like I did you.”

You hum, toying with the fork in your mouth. “Really,” you murmur, dropping the fork back on the table. You place your chin in your palm, lazily watching the movie now that you’ve missed a pivotal scene because Jungkook wanted you to beat him up. “I used your toothbrush the other day,” you mention.

Silence.

“You what?” he squawks indignantly. You glance at him from your peripherals. There’s an obvious expression of disgust on his features, eyes flickering from side to side as he digests this information. “Babe—that’s, that’s actually really…” He can’t even finish his sentence, mouth opening and closing as he finally seems to process the fact your mouth germs were on his beloved toothbrush.

“Yup,” you add. “Hope you don’t mind,” you babble on, “well, I mean, you really shouldn’t.” You glance at him, the mean streak in you crooning loudly in your ear the more and more uncomfortable he grows. “Considering you’re always spitting in my mouth.”

As wild as you and Jungkook liked to get in bed, what happened in bed mostly stayed in bed. It sounds gross to say it aloud, but he really has just been casually spitting in your mouth for the past few months. He was a dirty boy, and that fact makes him squirm.

“No, that’s different,” he frowns, obviously distraught by the valid point you bring to the table. “My toothbrush is my toothbrush.”

“I know,” you agree, nudging his foot teasingly. “Should I tell you about all the other mean stuff I do to your things that I never say sorry for?” He turns those frantic eyes on you.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s a question embedded within. You tilt your head to the side, as if to say, am I?.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you jump into a full novel recapture of every mean thing you’ve done and why. “And one time I was so pissed off that you finished my strawberry shampoo that I went to your house and drained the water from that stupid cactus’s pot. You know, the one Namjoon gave you?” Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes. “Why do you think it died so fast? I killed it.”

Before he can reprimand you for purposefully orchestrating the murder of his favorite senpai’s potted cactus, you’re intercepting him with yet another tale. “And another time, I was so sick of you polishing your awards all day that I went in and sprinkled a layer of adhesive pixie dust on them from the craft store, and I know it still bothers you to this day.”

“Jeez,” he sighs after a good ten parables. “It sounds like I piss you off a lot more than I think I do.”

You pat his shoulder gently, scraping the remnants of his meal into the trash can. “Yeah, but the difference is,” you say, finding your place beside him again. You don’t climb into your chair, just hover beside him until he’s begrudgingly wrapping his arms around your waist. There’s a cute pout on him, face squished against your boobs. “I routinely let out all my raging hatred against you instead of bottling it up.”

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly. “I guess so.”

Before you can let him off believing this much is fine, you intervene once more. “And also I never purposefully pick out everything you’re insecure about.”

“I didn’t know,” he cries, all traces of that suave gentlemen you love so much gone. But it’s okay, because in his place was this vulnerable puppy looking at you with the eyes of every rescue pop in those dramatic commercials on tv. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.

“Well, now you do,” you reprimand, giving his nose a playful pinch that almost makes him sneeze. “And I think it’s only fair I get a turn.”

He pushes away from his hiding spot in your boobs with a frown. “So you won’t physically attack me, but you will verbally attack me.”

“Yes,” you respond without missing a beat. “Because you’re easy to bully and it’s probably because of the fact you didn’t have many friends in high school, which essentially made you the class loner, thus an easy target. Explains why Namjoon had to set you up on a date with someone as amazing and outgoing as me, otherwise you would have died forever alone because of your inability to talk to women and the fact you have an awfully picky personality that can be overwhelming at times. So thank me once in a while, yeah?” you smile.

Jungkook blinks. “I think I might cry,” he admits.

You cup his cheeks in your hands, puckering his lips obnoxiously for you to smooch. “Baby, you’re dating a retired Regina George. Y’gotta tighten up a bit,” you tease, relish in the tiny smile he tries to hide after your kisses.

“So is this going to be like a thing now?” he asks as you tug him over to the couch, where The Bee Movie is still playing loud and clear. He plops down and you follow, snuggling into his side. “Because I don’t think I can ever do that again. Hurting your feelings hurts my feelings.”

You snort, taking in his smell and his warmth beside you. Jungkook sinks into the cushions, pulling you close into his chest until the soft beats of his heart echo in your ears. “No— unless you want it to be?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #this is mostly just a very needed resolution for me lol #mine

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

.

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

.

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

.

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

.

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

.

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

.

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

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#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #tim drake #jason todd #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson smut #batboys #batfam #batfamily #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

[brokenangelwings22]

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

#ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime

[loki-hargreeves]

Kylo Ren x Reader [SMUT] - On The Throne

Warnings: filthy smut [!!18+!!] it’s definitely a bit on the darker side, force choking, oral sex (m!receiving), riding, size!kink, dirty talk, over-stimulation, bruising, crying (just from pleasure, love), cock-warming Word Count: 4,4K Summary: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren wants to see you in the throne room. You suspect that he is going to punish you for your mistake, or worse, that he thinks you’re a spy. Your suspicions aren’t so far off, though you get a punishment you had previously only dreamt of. Author’s Note: I was thirsty, so this happened. Please enjoy! <3

THIRD POV

“Commander Y/N,” A robotic voice pulled Y/N out of her thoughts. She had been working on her station, deep in thought, as a squad of Stormtroopers had approached her. The moment she heard her title and name, she put her work on pause and turned to face the troopers. Whenever she had six Stormtroopers by her side, it meant something serious was going on and she didn’t dare disrespect them by making them wait.

“Yes?”

“Supreme leader Kylo Ren wants to see you in the throne room. Now.”

Supreme leader Kylo Ren

Hearing his name phrased like that made her heart leap to her throat. Ever since Kylo Ren had become the supreme leader, things had changed in the final order. The dark Prince was even more stern and determined than before, which many had thought was impossible. He was angry, yes, but there was something incredibly hot about it. Y/N knew it was shameful, but she liked it – a lot. She wondered what Kylo wanted to see her about. Moments later, she realized what it must’ve been about, and she frowned.

“Of course,” Y/N muttered and left her station, walking between the Stormtroopers. They were all armed and they seemed to keep an eye on her, almost as if they had a reason to watch out for her. Their odd behavior made her feel even more nervous about this meeting. It couldn’t have been good if she was escorted in the throne room like a criminal. “What is this about?” Y/N tried to make small talk with the Stormtroopers to ease her nerves. After all, she was a commander. It would be disrespectful of them to blatantly ignore her words.

To her surprise, none of them replied to her. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t like it. Someone must’ve painted red over her name. The very people that would listen to her words without doubt were now treating her like she had disgraced the entire order.

They arrived behind the large doors that led to the throne room. By now, Y/N felt warm underneath her uniform. Her nerves were like daggers twisting underneath her skin. If Kylo Ren had any reason to doubt her loyalty, he would surely kill her.

The guards opened the door and revealed a large, red hall. In the middle of it was the iron throne and of course, the supreme leader. Kylo Ren sat on the throne comfortable as the knights of Ren stood around him protectively. All eyes were on Y/N as she was gently pushed forward to walk even closer to Ren, who looked at her with a piercing gaze, making her feel vulnerable. They kept eye-contact even when she sunk down on her knee, kneeling before her Supreme leader.

The Stormtroopers didn’t enter the room. Instead, they stayed in the corridor as the doors were closed, leaving Y/N’s back. She felt scared, even though she knew she hadn’t done anything too bad. Only a mistake during their latest mission which eventually cost them valuable information, but it wasn’t entirely her fault either. Nothing that should get her into serious trouble.

Then again, Kylo Ren was unpredictable.

“Commander,” Kylo finally broke the silence, never tearing his dark brown eyes from her skin. His voice echoed lightly in the room. He could sense how nervous she was. It was almost ridiculous. “Do you know why I called you here?”

Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Y/N didn’t like to admit it, but when he spoke with such authority, it did things to her body. It was stupid, but she liked it a little too much. “I suspect it’s about my miscalculation during the latest mission, sir.”

“Well yes, that too,” Kylo shrugged, almost taunting her by now. That too? What did he mean by that? Did he make her that nervous on purpose? Did he enjoy seeing how she was shaking within her own skin?

Y/N raised her gaze from the floor, and she narrowed her eyebrows, confusion spreading on her face. “What do you mean, sir?”

The knights of Ren were dead silent. It was almost creepy how they stood there, watching, without making a sound. It only added to the intensity of the situation.

“As you know, we have a spy among us,” Kylo got to the point.

He couldn’t seriously imply that she was the spy. Y/N had been exceptionally loyal to him, even when many others in the order doubted him. She didn’t understand how anyone could possibly doubt her.

Kylo continued, “and your little ‘mistake’ was useful to the rebels. It almost looks like you did it to help them escape.”

Y/N’s cheeks were burning from embarrassment and she wanted to hide her face, but that would surely look suspicious. Yes, the mistake wasn’t anything to be proud of, but it was humiliating to be accused of helping the enemy. “Sir, I’m truly sorry for my wrongdoings, but I assure you, I am not the spy you’re looking for!”

“That’s exactly what a spy would say,” Kylo sighed. He sounded bored, but then again, his voice was always blunt and emotionless. It could mean anything, and it surely stressed her out further. What was she supposed to say?

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Y/N was good at holding them back, but the sting was there whenever she was under immense pressure. By gritting her teeth together, she regained her composure. She needed to prove her innocence, one way or another. “How can I prove your doubts otherwise?” Y/N wanted to know.

Kylo knew it wasn’t her. He felt that she was genuinely afraid of the false accusations, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t drag it out a little longer. He liked her presence. He wanted to see how far she was ready to go to prove she was innocent. “What are you willing to do?” Kylo wondered.

His question made her eyes widen slightly. Kylo noticed the change in her expression and he almost smirked as he realized where her mind went. Dirty girl…

“I’ll do anything, sir. I can even hunt for the spy! Just give me a chance, I’ll prove you wrong, s-sir!” She offered seriously. Kylo looked at her frightened expression and he knew if he cared more, he would’ve felt sorry for her. But he knew she was more than just afraid. She was much naughtier than he thought and now that Kylo knew, he couldn’t simply forget about it.

All of a sudden, Kylo Ren tilted his head, looking at one of the knights, Ushar, and he nodded. Just like that, the Knights stood up straight and marched towards the entrance, leaving the Supreme leader alone with the commander. Their heavy steps echoed in the hall and disappeared as the doors were shut once again. Somehow, it made Y/N even more afraid. Was this it? Was Kylo Ren going to kill her? She wished it wasn’t that severe, but she felt a punishment coming. She also felt a knot forming in her stomach which she hated. Why did the situation turn her on? She was risking losing it all!

“I know you’re not the spy, commander. But I can not excuse your ‘miscalculation’. I’d say it’s your greatest mistake by far,” Kylo revealed the truth to her and even though he was speaking to her in a dismissive tone, it made relief wash across her entire being. Thank stars, she thought.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll make up for it, I promise!”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Kylo said smoothly, sending shivers down her spine. Even when he spoke with such a monotone voice, it became clear that there was a sexual undertone to his words. They made Y/N feel vulnerable before him, as if he somehow knew about her darkest desires. “Come closer,” Kylo demanded her.

Y/N couldn’t believe what was going on. Truly, she didn’t know what was happening, but her heart was racing. It was only her and the supreme leader in the rich hall. He sat upon his throne and looked down on her which made her feel dirty. Slowly, she stood up from the polished floor and walked towards Ren, unsure how close he wanted her. With every step she took, the more nervous she became. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the heat between her legs grew worse.

She waited for him to tell her to stop when she neared the steps to the throne – but he didn’t. “Am I close enough?” Y/N dared to ask him. She noticed how much quieter her voice was now that it was only them and they were only a few feet away from each other. Surely, he could hear her heartbeat by now.

Kylo extended his arm and all of a sudden, Y/N felt an invisible grip around her throat, cutting her airways. Her eyes widened with fear and her hands reached her throat, trying to grab the force that was choking her which obviously didn’t work. Her feet let go of the ground and the force made her entire body levitate in front of the supreme leader. Her legs went numb from fright as Kylo pulled her body closer until his physical hand was around her delicate neck. Once he was the one holding her, he lifted the force which allowed her to breathe – which she did. Her feet rested on the highest step and she stood right in front of him. “Now you’re close enough.”

What was happening?! Y/N’s mind ran in circles as she stood there with Kylo Ren’s gloved hand wrapped around her neck. She didn’t even fight it. In fact, what had just happened made her stomach clench from lust. Gosh, Kylo Ren knew. There was no way he was oblivious to how horny she was because of him.

“You have an awfully dirty mind, Y/N,” Kylo referred to her by her name. It gave an illusion of the moment being even more intimate than it already was. If anyone was there to see them, surely the entire order would talk about it. She was ashamed as she heard that, but she was also excited. By now, Y/N wanted him so bad that she couldn’t possibly give into her shame fully.

“What are you going to do about it, sir?” Y/N wondered, somehow daring to ask him that. She didn’t know where the boost of confidence came from, but she liked it. And so did Kylo.

He gripped her neck tighter and pushed her down, so she fell on her knees by him. Then his hand travelled to her hair, pulling it out from the bun so he could grab her tighter. From that angle, Y/N suddenly noticed a bulge hiding underneath his black robes. Holy fuck, she thought as her eyes froze to stare at Kylo Ren’s huge bulge. Knowing exactly where this was headed blew Y/N’s mind away. It felt like she was on cloud nine and her mouth began to water at the thought of tasting Kylo. It was so wrong, so unprofessional but it excited her more than anything ever before.

“Show me just how sorry you are,” Kylo encouraged her to touch him. By now, he was almost in pain because of how hard he was. It had been a while since he had taken care of his feral needs. His eyes had been on Y/N for a while and he had wanted her for a long time now. It was finally happening and surely, it would ease him from the stress he carried.

“With pleasure, sir,” Y/N’s eyes darkened with lust as her hands immediately began to tear his clothes away from around his cock. Seeing how excited she was to suck his cock made Kylo smirk a little bit. She really was desperate, wasn’t she? Finally, she had pushed his robes and pants aside, revealing his huge cock that was pulsing with need. Pre-cum was leaking from his tip and he could hardly sit there and wait. Luckily, Y/N didn’t waste much time as she finally grabbed his shaft and brought his red tip to her lips. The moment her lips closed around his tip, Kylo’s grip on her tightened and he let out a low, animalistic growl.

Encouraged further by his reaction, Y/N pulled her lips away for a moment. She pressed her tongue at the base of his cock and followed a prominent vein as she licked up his length, until she reached his tip again. Before she took him into her mouth again, she spat on his cock and ran her hand up and down his shaft, feeling how his cock hardened even more under her touch. She felt every pulsing vein and ridge underneath her hands. As she worked on his huge shaft with both her hands, she took his tip into her mouth again and tasted his salty pre-cum on her tongue. Kylo was huge, easily the biggest cock she had ever seen before. Just the thought of feeling him inside her made her wetter and even more happy to suck him off. This was definitely not what she had expected, but she wasn’t complaining.

“That’s it,” Kylo grunted as “good girl, sucking my cock like a slut,” Kylo snarled dirtily. His words did magic on her. Y/N almost moaned as she heard that. Something about the way he spoke to her turned her on furthermore. She wanted to be his good girl, his little slut. His.

Y/N took more of him into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down while looking directly into his darkened eyes. She hollowed her cheeks around him and made Kylo’s muscles tense. He pushed his hips up to push himself deeper into her throat, making her moan around his cock. If she kept that up for much longer, he knew he’d cum soon. As tempting as it sounded, he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wanted to spill his seed deep inside her walls instead.

Kylo pulled her head away from his cock, stopping her before he could come. Without saying a word, Y/N knew what was about to happen. The look in Kylo’s eyes said it all. Almost instinctively, she knew what to do. Kylo let go of her hair as she stood up, her hands working on unbuttoning the buttons of her uniform jacket.

As she undressed herself right in front of him, Kylo slowly jerked himself and kept his gaze on her body. He knew she looked amazing and that her figure was astonishing but seeing her naked was different – even better. Her clothes scattered on the floor and eventually she stood before him in her underwear only. She unclasped her bra and let it fall somewhere on the floor, revealing her perked nipples to Kylo. She loved how nude she felt in front of him, physically and emotionally. It’s like there wasn’t an aspect of her Kylo couldn’t stare right into and she loved that feeling.

“Fuck,” Kylo cursed underneath his breath. He couldn’t take the strip tease anymore. Instead of waiting for her to get rid of her black underwear, Kylo let go of his achingly hard cock and grabbed her underwear. He tore the thin material down her legs and then grabbed her hips, harshly pulling her body on his lap. Y/N lost her balance as Kylo pulled her so forcefully, so she had to grab his shoulders for support. His grip would surely leave bruises on her skin, but she didn’t mind that at all.

Her pussy was dripping wet and throbbing in sync with her pulse. She was more than ready to be fucked mercilessly, but nothing could have possibly prepared her for the monstrous size of Kylo’s cock. He pushed his tip inside her and then pulled her body down so he could sink deep inside her soft warm walls.

“Fuck- Kylo!” Y/N whined in pleasure and pain as his cock spread her walls like never before. By now, she was so enthralled by the pleasure that she completely forgot how to address him correctly and frankly, she didn’t care. She sank down on his cock and by the time she sat on his lap, it felt like he could easily tear her apart. If Kylo didn’t have such a death gaze on her, silently reminding her that he was in control, she would’ve rubbed her pulsing clit to ease some of the pain. They had barely gotten started and she was panting.

“So beautiful, all mine,” Kylo murmured deeply as he ran his hand down her neck, his fingers pressing over her pulse. She bit her lip as Kylo wrapped his hand around her throat again and pressed lightly, enough to make it harder to breathe but not impossible. His other hand held her waist tightly, keeping her pressed down on his cock. Her tits were right in front of his face, which gave him an idea. As she began to ride his enormous cock, Kylo slid his hand up her waist until he cupped her breast. It didn’t take long until his skilled fingers pinched her nipple painfully, making her moan loudly as she rode his cock. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in a long time and he wanted to hear more. He wanted her to scream in pain and pleasure as his cock pierced her body.

“You’re so big!” Y/N whimpered in a haze. She felt like she was dreaming. Her walls hugged his cock so tightly and it felt amazing. Every roll of her hips made her whimper and moan.

“You’ve been such a bad girl. You know I could punish you in a much worse way for what you’ve done…” Kylo growled, reminding her of why she got herself in this situation. Not that it mattered, she seemed to enjoy it a lot, almost too much to be considered a punishment.

Y/N knew she should’ve been ashamed, but in that moment, it made her happy she had done that. If she hadn’t, she doubted she would’ve ended dup riding her Supreme leader’s massive cock on the throne itself. Nevertheless, she played along “I’m sorry I’ve been so b-bad…so sorry!”

Kylo squeezed around her neck and pulled her face right next to his. For a moment, he choked her so she couldn’t breathe, just long enough so he could whisper, “say it like you mean it, you little whore!” and then he eased his grip which made her gasp. He wasn’t playing around.

Y/N rolled her hips on his cock faster and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Kylo was wearing his robes and he must’ve been warm. She could smell his cologne through his clothes, and she felt the heat radiating from his body. It was driving her wild. “I’m so s-sorry! I promise I won’t let anything like it happen e-ever…again, ah!” Y/N tried to apologize between her moans.

Kylo bucked his hips to meet hers which made it much harder for her to speak. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as Kylo grabbed her hips with both hands and began to pound into her wetness. her breath got lost for a moment as the sudden force intensified the pleasure and pain she felt. Kylo felt how her walls squeezed around him tighter, revealing that she was close. He wasn’t done with her yet; she was going to be sorry.

Kylo pressed two of his fingers on her pulsing clit, pressing down harshly which made her body jolt in surprise. Without warning, he began to rub her needy clit while fucking deep into her, surely overwhelming her. “Is that what you wanted, huh? For your Supreme leader to fuck your dirty hole? To be treated like the little slut that you are?” Kylo growled to her, his voice deep and raspy from his own pleasure. He wanted to fuck her harder and to spill his seed into her womb.

His nasty words only made her moan into his neck. She struggled to form thoughts by now. But she knew she had to reply to him, “y-yes, sir!”

Gosh, she sounded so alluring. Y/N’s voice was weakened by the raw pleasure Kylo brought her and he could hear that his size was taking a toll on her. It took all her strength to keep herself together on his cock and to not fall apart. It filled Kylo with a sense of pride. Y/N tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips on Kylo’s neck, hoping to drown her moans by kissing his skin. She was convinced that all the Stormtroopers and the Knights of Ren could hear them, but she didn’t care. He was warm and his body, just like hers, was covered by a layer of sweat. Her cool lips felt amazing on his neck, so he didn’t stop her from kissing him. Somehow, she found his sensitive spot immediately.

Y/N could feel his cock all the way in her belly and his fingers that rubbed circles on her pearl made her mind spin. She was close and she wasn’t sure how long she could hold it.

Kylo could feel how close she was, “Just cum. I won’t stop until I do, so that’s on you,” Kylo warned her mercilessly. He knew that his touch would make her scream if he could overstimulate her. In fact, he wanted to do that. He wanted to pound into her walls after she reached her high, to tease her little clit which would surely be too much for her to handle. Kylo also knew that he was much stronger than her, so she couldn’t push him off even if she wanted to.

What he said felt like a threat. Y/N was afraid she couldn’t handle his tempting torture if she came now. Kylo was already pushing her body to the edge! “I can’t…” She cried against his neck, tears forming in her eyes.

Kylo knew that and he didn’t care.

“Oh yes you can!” He growled sternly and replaced his fingers with the force. As he fucked his cock into her dripping wet walls, he used the force to capture her clit and to rub circles on it. His huge hands regained the tight grip on her hips as he continued his torturous pace. Y/N rolled her hips against his, but her moves became sloppy as she struggled to keep her orgasm at bay. Then finally, she came.

“Kylo!” Y/N screamed his name in delight as her body collapsed against his. The work towards her orgasm had drained her of her energy, but it was worth it. Never before had she felt as euphoric as she did now, sitting on her Supreme leader’s lap with his cock deep in her pussy and the force rubbing her clit just the way she liked it.

“That’s right! Cum all over my cock, you little whore. Just like that!” Kylo groaned as he kept pounding into her, now chasing his own orgasm.

Tears rolled down her face as the pleasure quickly became too much. Y/N held onto Kylo’s body tightly almost for dear life as he continued to push her to an edge she had never reached before. Every thrust, every rub felt like another orgasm followed by another. Even something as simple as breathing became hard after a short while. “Kylo! I can’t! ‘S too much!” She screamed, knowing fully he wouldn’t stop. A part of her wanted to push him off, but the other part of her loved it and wanted him to continue until she was a screaming and crying mess underneath his touch.

“You should’ve kept that in mind when you were doing such a poor job!” Kylo used her mistake against her. He had to grit his teeth together as he was so close. Having her shaking body on his lap only pushed him closer to his edge. Ever so weakly, she tried to push herself off him, but it was useless. She didn’t really want to get off, but her body was working against her mind.

Her torture didn’t continue much longer as Kylo finally came. He pulled her as close as he could, burying his cock deep inside her as his cum leaked inside her. Kylo bit Y/N’s shoulder in order to silence his growl of pure and raw pleasure.

Y/N moaned with him, enjoying how it felt to be filled with Kylo’s cum. It made her feel so dirty, but also all his. The thought of surrendering herself completely to him was thrilling.

Instead of being pushed away as soon as he got what he wanted, Kylo kept her close. He didn’t want to pull out and frankly, Y/N didn’t want to leave.

Neither of them dared to speak a word as they came down their highs. Y/N enjoyed her place on his lap and the feeling of being full of his cock and cum. Although she feared it was a one-time thing, she wished to return to that feeling over and over again.

Eventually, Kylo tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back just enough so he could kiss her. It wasn’t a loving kiss, but it was passionate and harsh. Their teeth nearly clashed by the force of it. Y/N didn’t fight it as Kylo pushed his tongue inside her mouth, asserting dominance even after he had split her in half by her pelvis.

As they broke the kiss, their eyes met. Because of his force gifts, Kylo could sense what she was feeling. The poor woman liked him way too much. Honestly, she should’ve probably hated him, but she didn’t. Kylo liked that about her. Instead of running away from trouble, she ran towards it. “You’re such a dirty girl. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I have, sir. As I said, I won’t ever let that happen again,” Y/N repeated herself. Her words were drowsy, and she was tired. Fucking Kylo had drained her from all her energy. It was far too tempting to just lean against his chest and close her eyes, but she was afraid it would make him push her away. As much as it sucked, she had to remind herself that this was her punishment.

Perhaps the hardest thing wasn’t to take the fucking, but to walk away from him afterwards.

Author’s Note: Here go you! I hope you liked it :) Your feedback would be highly appreciated <3 

#Kylo Ren #tw smut #tw dirty talk #tw sex #Kylo Ren fanfiction #Kylo Ren smut #Kylo Ren Imagine #Kylo Ren one-shot #kylo ren x reader #Kylo ren x you #Ben Solo smut #Star wars smut

[yetanotherhoeforpedro]

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 4 - The spirits that haunt us 

Chapter 3

TW: SMUT, canon-typical violence

Your eyes adjusted to the bright lights so slowly that you had to rely on your other senses. Apparently, you were lying on an even metal surface, judging from the cold hard material you felt underneath your – exposed back? Yes, you seemed to be naked from the waist up. As you focused on the rest of your body, you noted with surprise that the pain in your ribs had subsided. The air smelled slightly of ethanol; you definitely weren’t on Kashyyyk anymore. Shit, had you been abducted by the Empire?

Finally, your eyesight returned to you and you looked around, careful not to move your head too conspicuously, lest whoever had brought you here would notice you. You relaxed immediately as you took in the familiar view of your ship, though it didn’t lessen your irritation. How did you get back here?

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at your ribs. The sudden movement made you feel a little dizzy, so you carefully laid back down again and peeked at your ribcage. Someone seemed to have tended to your wounds as a beige bandage was wrapped around them, still leaving your breasts exposed, and they really didn’t hurt anymore. You slowly stretched your hand out to your ribs and dug your fingers in to test your pain tolerance. Nothing. There had to be some sort of painkiller involved…How long had you been out? What about Grogu? The Wookie youngling?

You sat back up in a quick movement that your head didn’t appreciate in the least. “Careful,” a modulated voice said and your head snapped to the direction of it, resulting in another sharp headache.

But there was the Mandalorian, standing at the other end of the space. You were too stunned to react to his presence in any way. Why was he here? He should have hated you, what did he care if you were being careful or not? Fuck, how you despised yourself. You averted his glance out of pure guilt. You broke his trust, you let them take his child. You were too weak to save him, why did Luke ever send you on this mission?

“What…what happened?” you asked finally and noticed how raw your throat felt. “You passed out on the beach, so I took you back here and…,” he paused and his visor dipped down a bit, allowing him a better look at your rib. You were suddenly all too aware of your exposed breasts, but didn’t want to show your discomfort by moving to cover them up. He shook his head quickly. “So, I– I– fixed your…ribs.” You heard him swallow loudly as he brought his helmet back up to your face. “For a moment I thought– I thought I had los…”, he added, but stopped himself from saying whatever he was going to. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry,” he said instead.

You grew even more irritated at that. “You are sorry? I am the one who fucked up, Mando,” you replied faintly, breaking the possible eye contact with him again. “I am so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I had been quicker…,” you went on and let your voice trail off.

“None of this is your fault,” he responded firmly and took a few steps towards you. “I was…being a dick, and I am sorry for it. I– I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I know you would never have let them get him if you had had another choice, I was just – he – he’s all I have left.” Some small part of your heart broke at that confession.

“You had every right to snap at me,” you answered with conviction. “Please, don’t be so kind to me…I don’t deserve that.” You heard him tread even closer to you and this time, he didn’t stop until he was right next to you. He uttered your name softly and at that, your head turned back to him. Two leather gloves cupped your cheeks gently, forcing you to hold his stare.

“You – you deserve nothing but kindness from me,” he whispered and let one of his hands trail across your cheekbones in a featherlight touch. The simple touch sent goosebumps across your entire body. “I – I have been…awfully unkind to you,” he admitted quietly.

“What’s with the change of heart now?” you attempted to lighten the situation and relieve yourself of some of the electric current humming through you, but failed miserably. “I…when you were…on that…beach…completely motionless…” The movements of his hand stilled for a second. You knew this was as vulnerable as he would make himself, so you simply placed your hand on top of his in silent affirmation.

“Mando…I…,” you began, but he silenced you by putting his index finger on your mouth. “Stop guilting yourself,” he said intently and his other hand began to softly move across your cheek again. “We will get him back.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breaking. You could not bear his kindness anymore; it was just too much. Mando’s fingers started to gingerly run across your neck and all of your thoughts and worries left your mind for a second as you registered the movement. “After you…um...I installed a tracking fob on the imperial ship”, he explained absentmindedly. His focus seemed to be entirely on his fingers, which began to explore your collar bone. You shivered at the intimacy of the touch. His hand began to dip even lower, hovering at the swell of your heaving breasts.

“Do you want me to stop?” His words were merely a breath and you could only shake your head, as you were at a complete loss for words. He let out a relieved sigh at you giving him your consent and his hand moved a little lower until he was softly cupping your breast. You lost yourself completely in his touch and let out a soft moan. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Do you realize how…agonizing it has been for me to see you with your tits out all this time while I couldn’t…couldn’t touch you?” He gave your boob a little squeeze to support his words and at that, you let out a louder moan. “You can always touch me,” you admitted breathlessly and he groaned in response. He removed his other hand from yours and moved it down to cup your other breast.

Taking all the time in the world, he tested out the weight of your breasts in his hands and began to slowly knead them while the aching between your legs grew worse. “Mando…please,” you begged him.

“Now, now. I expected you Jedi to have a little more patience,” he responded while continuing to caress your tits. Fuck, he knew he was taunting you and he was enjoying it. There would be time for some payback later.

One of his leathered gloves left your breast and started to draw lazy circles across your back. As his hand moved down further only to brush across the sensitive curve of your spine, you arched into the touch of his other hand even more. He groaned softly.

Without a warning, he removed his hands from you entirely, but he held a hand up before you could bark out in protest. He deliberately removed his gloves, exposing his bare skin for the first time. His hands were beautiful, the veins standing out a bit against his skin, which was tan – despite not having seen sunlight in the Maker knows how long – and calloused. With one quick movement, Mando span you around on the makeshift bed so that your legs were dangling over the edge and you were fully facing him. You let out a surprised gasp.

His next advances seemed almost hesitant after this impulsive action. He slowly spread your legs apart with his hands and positioned himself between them. The proximity of him made your heart accelerate to an unprecedented speed. Your head dipped down almost instinctively and your throat went dry as you took in the bulge in his pants. His bare hand cupped your chin and made you look up at him again. “Let me touch you first,” he said hoarsely and you nodded, not able to deny him anything.

His fingers were unexpectedly smooth and warm as they began to explore your body again. Each of his touches made you soak your pants more and more, but he wasn’t ready to give you what you desired just yet. He reveled in every skin-to-skin touch as if he’d never get to experience it again. The gentleness of his touch when he brushed your bandages made your heart swell with affection that you quickly repressed. This was purely sexual, wasn’t it?

The Mandalorian pushed a strand of your hair back from your face, halting his worshipping of your body. “You are…absolutely gorgeous,” he said while looking you up and down, his voice betraying his vulnerability. You swallowed. Apparently, this was not merely physical. Mando made a move to touch you again, but you grabbed his arm before he could. “Look,” you inducted, “I – I can’t do this. Not – not if it’s…more than sex.”

He didn’t respond for a while, the two of you frozen in this awkward position. “Who said it was more?” he retorted finally, with such nonchalance that you thought you had imagined the gentle affection in his voice earlier. “Okay, great,” you lied. You didn’t want this to be more than a physical thing, did you? So, why were you so disappointed that he felt the same way? Didn’t that make you a hypocrite?

“Do – do you want to continue?” he broke the awkward silence that had formed between you. Yes, more than anything. But could you risk it? What if you got too attached? Never in your life had you damned your Jedi existence and your past more than in this very moment. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t turn away from it. Being a Jedi was your life and you wouldn’t give it up for something as trivial as sex…Or would you?    

“I…I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Mando said, no hint of any emotion in his voice and ended your brooding silence. When you didn’t reply, he simply picked up his gloves and left without another word.

“Fuck,” you whispered with exasperation. He would never be vulnerable with you again after you pushed him away like this. But maybe that was for the better. As your breathing returned to its normal rhythm, you started to focus on reality again. You were on a mission, Mando had mentioned a tracking fob or something? What about the Wookie? Mando hadn’t mentioned him, so you guessed he was safe? It was not like you could go to him for information now. Maker, what have you done? What had you been about to do?

Maybe it was the painkillers, you thought to yourself, though you knew it was no valid excuse.

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

Hours later you mustered up the courage to go to the cockpit. As you expected, Mando was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his helmet facing the broad windshield. He didn’t react to your appearance. “I am sorry,” you told him as you sunk down into the seat next to him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied mechanically, still not looking at you. “I was simply looking for a little distraction.” His words stung more than you cared to admit.  “Right,” you retorted, a little too sharply to appear casual. He turned his helmet to you. “Just sex, remember?” You gritted your teeth as he used your words against you.

“Where are we heading?” you switched the topic. “I don’t know yet, they are still on the move.” The Mandalorian was pointing at the tracking fob in front of him. A small blue dot was moving across the map of the galaxy, not far from the position of your ship. “I got to hand it to the droid, he is a good pilot,” he added, pointing to Artoo, who beeped excitedly at the approval. “The best,” you corrected him, looking fondly at Luke’s R2-unit.

“What – what happened to the Wookie youngling?” you asked cautiously. “She’s safe. Her mother decided she was ready to begin her training, so I contacted Luke. He’ll send someone to pick her up and she’ll be protected by the other Jedi in the temple.” You cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You contacted Luke?” – “Yes. We are…good friends.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. “I immediately called the droid to pick us up when…they left with him,” he went on. You only nodded as the guilt began to nag at you again. As if he could sense your thoughts, he said: “Stop blaming yourself, it wasn’t your fault.” You shot him a surprised glance, but only shrugged. No matter how often he’d reassure you, you were the only person who could relieve you of your tormenting thoughts and you were not ready to let yourself of the hook – definitely not before Grogu was safely back in your ship.

You spent a few minutes in silence, watching as the blue dot moved across the holographic map. “What do you think they are doing to him right now?” Mando asked into the silence of the cockpit, his voice sounding strained. “I – I don’t think they would…hurt him. They need him,” you tried to reassure him and yourself.

“If only – if only I’d gone after him myself. If I had been more…vigilant…I would have seen that you had not gotten to him. I could have saved him,” he muttered, completely ignoring your attempt to comfort him.

“Mando, no,” you breathed out as you got up and moved towards him. Carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, you placed your hand on top of his. “I told…I scolded you for not trusting me. And then I failed you, you did nothing wrong. If it weren’t for you, they would probably have gotten the Wookie as well and disappeared without a trace.” He let you touch his hand, which was once again shielded by a layer of leather, and you softly started to draw soothing circles across it with your thumb. Mando didn’t reply, only tilted his helmet down to where your hands were entwined. “This is…not the first time I let the Empire take him,” he confessed in a shaky tone. “I should have let him go. He’d be better off without me.”

The audible pain in his voice was too much to bear, you were willing to do anything to make it go away. So, you damned your previous worries, let go of his hand and took a few more steps around him. As you stood directly in front of him, you got on your knees and heard the Mandalorian take in a sharp breath. “And you got him back last time, didn’t you?” you said while looking up at him. “He is damn lucky to have you in his life and I know that you – and me too for that matter – would do anything to get him back.” Your hands slid over his beskared thighs and he spread them apart out of what felt like a reflex.

“W–what are you doing?”, Mando inquired warily. “You said you wanted a distraction,” you replied innocently and dragged your hands up and down his thighs to support your words. He swallowed audibly. “But– but you –,“ he protested without any conviction. “You told me to s–stop.” His breathing turned ragged as your hands neared the now evident bulge in his pants. “Changed my mind,” you responded and licked your lips in a suggestive manner. His strong reactions to you made you quite bold. “D–don’t do t–this out of pi–pity,” he warned you. “You think I’d blow you out of pity?” you asked him incredulously. “Yes, I want to help you to get the edge off a bit – but don’t think it’s fucking charity. I want to feel you down my throat,” you admitted and saw his cock jump at the vivid image. “So, will you let me?” You leaned forward a little and brought your hands teasingly close to his manhood. “Y–yes,” was all he managed to get out while he reached for his pants.

His member sprung free and you hummed in approval at the considerable length of it. You spread Mando’s thighs further and wedged yourself between them to get a better access. He went rigid at the first contact your hand made with his shaft and you couldn’t hold back a little smug smile. He was utterly at your mercy. Your hand wrapped around his base and you gave him a few testing pulls, to which he reacted with a groan of pleasure. As you brushed your thumb over his tip, you felt the wetness of his precum and his hips thrust up into your hand. “A little more patience, Mando,” you chided him playfully, high on your sudden power trip. “You–you will regret t–this,” he promised in a husky voice which made the space between your legs pulse. “We’ll see,” you hummed and gave his length another teasing stroke. “F–fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

You decided to have some mercy on him and took a small part of him into your mouth. When you let your tongue run over his tip, his hand came down on the back of your head and tightly gripped your hair. In response, you eased him into your mouth further and he groaned raggedly. As you sucked on him, he came completely undone and thrust his hips up, forcing himself down your throat unexpectedly and making you gag. “I–I’m sorry, Jedi. Are you alright?” Mando asked you with a level of concern in his voice that almost made you regret your change of heart. You couldn’t reply verbally because he was still filling your mouth, so you simply took him in an inch deeper in response. Mando’s breathing hitched. You sucked on him again before you pulled back. Needing to recover from his sudden intrusion, you took a few breaths and continued pumping him with your hand. Mando thrust into your hand greedily.

You decided to torture him a little more and swirled your tongue across his tip again, but didn’t take him in further. He groaned in exasperation. “D–don’t b–be like t–that, Jedi.” He ran his gloved fingers through your hair while tugging your head closer again. “Y–you         s–said you–you wanted me to c–cum down your–your throat,” he reminded you in uneven breaths. “Will you let me?” He untangled his hand from your hair and let his fingers trail over the sensitive skin on your throat in emphasis. “Fuck–fuck Mando…anything– anything for you,” you gasped out, completely losing your focus and surge of dominance as you felt his hand on your neck. “Good girl,” he growled out, making you moan.

You brought your lips back to his cock and let him fuck your mouth at his pace, the sound of him leaving and reentering your mouth the only sound in the otherwise quiet cockpit. You felt your own wetness increase as you sensed him growing harder and harder. “F–fuck, I’m c–close,” he exhaled and placed his hand on the back of your head again to secure you in your position as release barreled through him. You swallowed the rows upon rows of cum he spilled down your throat greedily, savoring his musky taste.

When he was spent to the last drop, he slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth and leaned back in his seat. He pulled his pants back up and you took that as your signal to leave, so you slowly got up and reactivated your sore leg muscles. You were about to go and let him be since your mission to distract him seemed to have been a success. Swiftly, his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he challenged you in a dark voice that made your pussy throb. “Um…I–I thought you might want–um–I don’t know–privacy?” Your voice hitched embarrassingly at the last syllables. Mando let out a huff of what you could only interpret as amusement. “Privacy,” he tested the word out on his tongue. “What I want is some privacy with your cunt.” Your head snapped up to his in surprise at the sheer dominance he emitted. You swallowed, unsure how to react. “Will you not let me repay the favor?” he went on and patted his thigh in a silent invitation.  

Without thinking about it, you climbed onto his lap. Your usual swagger had abandoned you completely exactly when you needed it most and Mando – that bastard – seemed to know it. He took the lead and placed your hands on his shoulders. Then he let his hands roam over your body ravenously. First, he lifted your shirt up a little and put one hand on your back to steady you while his right hand palmed one of your tits.

He let out a soft moan at the sensation. “Fuck–you f–feel so–so warm and s–soft,” he praised you under his breath. His other hand gradually dragged down your spine until he stopped at the hem of your pants. You nodded in silent encouragement and with your consent, he let it slip through the waistband. How convenient that there was no underwear in space. As he cupped your ass cheek, both of you let out a pleasured moan in unison.

He released his other hand from your breast after giving it another firm squeeze and moved it to your second butt cheek. You ground into him with a small whimper in a desperate attempt to relieve the upbuilding heat in your core and he gripped your ass harder, pushing you back a little. Mando leaned forward slightly so that his helmet rested right beside your head. “You are greedy, huh?” he whispered into your ear with a soft chuckle. “You will cum when and where I want you to, understood?” His words sent a shiver down your spine. Rapidly, one of his hands snapped up from your ass and he gripped you by the throat. “Understood?” he repeated. You nodded as much as his grip allowed you to. “Good,” he snarled.

He leaned back again and released your neck. Then he let his hand dangle in front of your mouth expectantly. Following his train of thought, you lightly bit down on the fabric of his glove, allowing him to free his hand. The other hand was still rested on your ass and pushed you up so that you were basically kneeling as his ungloved fingers traced the hem of your pants. Without any more preambles, he guided his bare fingers to your heated core. The first contact of his fingers with your wet folds made you shudder. Mando groaned in approval at your dripping wetness. “F-fuck,” he muttered as he began to draw small circles on your clit, coaxing a wanton moan from you. For a while, he continued to tease you and let his fingers roam around your pussy, his fleeting touches painfully delicate.

“M-Mando,” you huffed, “P-please.” – “I love it when you beg for me,” he all but growled in response and dipped one of his fingers into your core. You arched your back while taking in the sensation and his other hand snaked its way up its curve. His finger curled inside of you in a delicious angle and your palms dug into his armor at the marvelous feeling. You felt his eyes monitor each of your reactions to his movements as he slowly drove his finger in and out of your wetness. It was tantalizing and you tried to force him to move faster and harder by rolling your hips down. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he chided you and forcefully pushed another finger in. “Are you satisfied now, Jedi?” You simply nodded, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pumping his fingers in and out of you. His pace quickened and your eyelids fluttered shut. In this moment, the only things that existed in the entire galaxy were his fingers and the growing heat of your core. The rhythm and the technique of his movements was devastating, each thrust felt more mind-blowing than the last. His pace didn’t falter once, not even as his other hand maneuvered down your spine before greedily grabbing at your ass. You felt your walls clench down on his fingers and they curled into you again, making you moan obscenely loud.

As you reached your climax shortly after, he made you see stars and you heard Mando mumble indistinct praises under his breath. He kept his movements up until you were spent to the last drop. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out of your dripping cunt.

You slumped down onto his lap in exhaustion and buried your head in his armored chest while trying to calm your hammering heart.

A metallic sound made your head snap up, but Mando pushed it back down quickly before you could see anything. A little confused but too exhausted to fight him, you let your head fall back into its previous position. Only when you heard soft slurping sounds did you comprehend what was going on. He must have removed his helmet to taste you. The realization turned you on more than you cared to admit and you felt the wetness in your pants increase.  

“You – you taste so g-good, Jedi,” Mando groaned. “I can’t wait to feast on you properly.” The statement made you swallow audibly, but you were too stunned to reply verbally. You heard him pull his helmet back on and let out a small relieved sigh, your current position was quite compromising. You pushed yourself up on your knees and pulled your pants up. After patting your ass one last time, Mando released his hold on you and you carefully climbed out of his lap.

Your legs still felt a little wobbly as you left the cockpit without another word.

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

You avoided Mando for the rest of the day, not sure how to feel about what you had done. Instead, you used the time to tend to your wounds and obsessively reorganize your supplies multiple times. After that failed to keep your mind from wandering down certain paths, you gave up. You couldn’t evade this forever, you eventually had to liberate your thoughts.

Why did you change your mind? Why were you so desperate to relieve Mando of his worries? Did you actually do it out of selflessness or did you have ulterior motives you were not willing to face? What if you wouldn’t be able to rescue Grogu from the claws of the Empire?

You quickly forgot about your stolen moments with the warrior as you considered that grim vision of the future. It was your fault that Grogu was not with you right now, of that you were absolutely certain. It didn’t matter how hard Mando had tried to ease your guilty conscience, you didn’t deserve his sympathy. You had promised to retrieve him and failed miserably. How could you have been so blind? You should have seen the detonation coming, you should have sensed it through the Force. If only you hadn’t been too fucking weak and pathetic to get up that damn tree…

You sighed deeply. If you wouldn’t get your apprentice back, you would not be able to call yourself a Jedi any longer. How would you ever face Luke again? Or Mando? Or even yourself? No, you would not be able to live with yourself if you failed again. And a part of you, a part you desperately tried to ignore, also knew that you could not live with disappointing Mando.  

Fuck, when had you grown so fond of the silent warrior? You did not let your guard down this easily often, what was so different about him? You could not afford to…feel something for him, especially right now.

You had bigger issues in front of you than your past and your love life – if one could even title it as such. Still, your mind kept circling back to it and how could you tackle these new demons if you hadn’t even bested your old ones yet?

You took a deep breath and let your mind guide you to a place you had locked away for years.

The world was a cacophony of screams and blastershots. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t get yourself to tune the sounds out and concentrate. Your gaze shifted to your left where your father was crouching defensively over your sisters and then back to your mother. She looked absolutely devastating, a force to be reckoned with, her yellow lightsaber illuminating the focused lines of her sharp face. She was standing between your family and whatever was awaiting beyond the door of your home, ready to take it on without any fear for her own life. You took a deep breath and let her presence calm you. You were a warrior, just like her, and you would not be afraid. You would fight till your last breath to defend your family.

Your father called out to you again: “Get back here, now!” But you would not hide. You were no coward; you would fight alongside your mother. She turned around to you that second, the hard lines of her face softening. She uttered your name in a tender voice. “Go to your dad. Everything will be alright.” But you sensed the lie and you would not let her face the threat alone. You would not let her die to protect you. She seemed to see the resolve in your face and sighed heavily. You had always been extremely stubborn. So, she turned to your father instead. “Get them out of here.” The look they exchanged was heartbreakingly tender and hopeless, both of them knew it would be the last one they’d ever share. Your father swallowed, but nodded. There was nothing he could do to help her in battle, all he could offer was to protect their children.

He pushed your siblings into the backroom before he went to retrieve you. You struggled against his firm grip, but he didn’t let go. Wide eyed, kicking and screaming at your father to let you go and let you fight, you were pulled out of the room. You’d never forget the way your mother looked at you then. The soft curve of her lips as she tenderly smiled – smiled – at you, fully aware that she was about to die.

Your screaming turned into uncontrolled sobs as your father closed the door behind you and pulled you into a tight embrace. “Hush, hush,” he tried to calm you, his own voice trembling. You stopped resisting and buried your head into the crook of his neck, your streaming tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. You remained like this for a moment before your father detangled you from him carefully. “Listen to me,” he addressed you and your sisters. “I need you to be brave now.” He wiped a tear away from your cheek. “You need to be really really quiet. Do not make a sound.” His voice became barely a whisper. “You need to hide.”

“How is hiding a brave action?” you demanded. Your father smiled at you sadly, as if he expected no other response from you. “Bravery is not always the most reckless course of action. Your courage will do you no good if you’re dead.” You forced your tears back and nodded.

“You need to hide and do not come out, no matter what you hear,” your father went on. He gave all three of you a kiss on the head before urging you towards the hidden trap door that led to your emergency room. Your sisters climbed down first and your dad gave you one last reassuring glance before you followed them. But before he could follow you down, loud noises began to erupt from the other side of the door. You gazed up at him in horror as he shut the trap door without another word.

The lump in your throat grew worse as you climbed down the last few steps of the ladder and faced your sisters. Their faces mirrored the dread on yours and you simply hugged them. You held on to each other until the noises above you subsided, forcing your breathing to calm.

“D-do you t-think it’s o-over?” your little sister asked in a small voice. You were about to reply when you heard steps directly above you. Something knocked against the ceiling of your room.

“Sir, I think there’s a secret room underneath this one,” a muffled male voice proclaimed. Shit, you had to act quickly. You had to protect your sisters or your parents’ sacrifices would have been in vain. You knew there were weapons hidden somewhere in this room, you had to locate them quickly. Silently stepping across the room, you searched for any kind of indents in the wall. Your fingers spotted a small notch and you pressed your trembling index finger into it.

Surely enough, the wall opened and a couple of blasters and your grandfather’s lightsaber was revealed. You passed two smaller blasters to your sisters – your parents had taught all of you the basics – and grabbed the lightsaber. While it was far too big for your children’s-sized hand, it felt oddly fitting. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the attack as the trap door slowly slid open. A man poked his head into the basement and it was the last he saw as your sister’s blaster went off and hit its target. The man’s corpse tumbled down the ladder and landed in front of you in a loud crash. You winced slightly at the sight; you had never been confronted with death like this.

However, now was not the time to consider the significance of this death, you needed to focus. You knew your sisters had your back with the blasters, so you activated your lightsaber. For just a second, you let yourself stare in awe at the marvelous green blade, but you snapped out of it quickly.

You were by far not experienced with a lightsaber; you had only practiced with your mom’s a few times. The logical course of action would have been to take a blaster as well, but somehow the weapon had called to you. Out of pure instinct, you managed to deflect the first couple of blastershots your enemies fired from above. But as the rapid fire continued, your senses began to fail you. As much as you wished otherwise, you were not one of the legendary Jedi knights, the truth was that you weren’t. And considering your current situation, you probably never would become one.

It started with you accidentally leaving an open space when a blaster hit your upper arm. You yelled out in agony and your blade dipped for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. But one moment was enough for them.

It was one of those situations that seemed to pass in slow-motion when you look back at it. You noticed the blastershot sail past you and as you whipped your head around, you saw it strike your big sister directly in her abdominal. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the clean whole in her stomach and back at you before she collapsed. She would never get up again. Your younger sister’s wail pierced the terrible silence and as she looked at you, you saw nothing but burning hate in her eyes.

Another blastershot brushed your thigh, forcing you to face your attackers again. You tried to keep your posture upright but your faith left you. You were certain you would die in this room. Not that you deserved anything else, you had let your sister die. If only you had received proper training. If you had been a full Jedi, you could have saved them. Your mother, your father, your sister…all of them. And because of your incompetence, your younger sister would perish with you.

She didn’t deserve to die. You had to protect her. If it hadn’t been for her, you might have let them finish you, but you owed more to her. You let your love for her guide you and mustered up the strength and focus to deflect shot after shot again.

You had found a rhythm in meeting the blasts with your weapon when suddenly, a figure jumped down and landed directly in front of you, next to the corpse. You staggered back in surprise. Whatever was before you was definitely not human. And while that was not unusual in the galaxy, the thing before you seemed disturbingly mechanic and menacing. All you saw in the dim light were its glowing red eyes. You took another step back, trying to move yourself between it and your sister. In a desperate attempt to scare the thing off, you swung your lightsaber out. In its glow, you saw your attacker more clearly.

It was a droid, but not the sort that usually helped out at your farm. This one looked too human to be fully machine, yet not alive enough to pass as human. You shuddered. The thing didn’t cease its movements, seemingly unbothered by your weapon. You swung out at it helplessly. The blaster of your sister was useless as it would probably have hit you instead of the aggressor. Faster than your eyes could detect, the droid attacked and disarmed you. You were too stunned to react in any way, the creature kept advancing as you simply stood there and stared at it. Somewhere distant, you could hear your sister scream your name over and over again, but your mind was elsewhere. You were one with the Force and braced yourself for the fatal blow. At least you’d be reunited with your family soon.

“Bring them up here,” a dark voice commanded from above and the droid jerked to a stop. A second one jumped down as the first one grabbed your wrist. Its metal fingers dug into the sensitive skin and you bit back the sharp pain. As you were being pulled back towards the trap door, too disheartened to resist, you heard a few blastershots go off as your sister tried to ward the droid off. The shots went silent quickly though.

It was pure muscle memory that made you climb up the ladder the thing pushed you on and soon enough, you were exposed to the bright sunlight flooding the room again. The droid grabbed your wrists from behind and forced you to stand still. You took in your surroundings with a concerning apathy. You had no idea why they let you live or how much time you had left. There were two men standing in the room, one in clone armor and the other one in black fighting gear. Your eyes roamed on, but you averted your glance from the motionless figure on the ground quickly.

“You fought bravely,” the man in black started. “So did your sisters.” You flinched at that and stared back at the trap door. Neither your sister not the droid had emerged again. “But you don’t have to die today,” he went on, his eyes narrowing as he focused them on you. There was something immensely unnerving in them, but you would not give him the satisfaction of breaking the eye contact.

“While my order was to kill all of the Jedi, I don’t think you’d count as one.” You could feel the rage burning up inside of you. “If you only had to kill Jedi, why did you murder my father and sisters?” you spat. He had the audacity to smile at you. “Now, now. Let bygones be bygones. Your father and sisters were of no use to me.” His grin widened. “One of you is more than enough. The Grand Admiral will be pleased with me.” You didn’t react to his words. What did you care what they did to you? They already killed those most dear to you, they could not hurt you anymore.

“You will be of great value to the Empire,” his monologue continued. “Thrawn has enormous plans for you. You will ensure our ultimate victory.” You had no idea what he was talking about, neither did you care. The man sank down on one knee in front of you and grabbed your chin. “Do you realize what an honor is bestowed upon you?” You spat in his face and he let you go, wiping it off his face with a disgusted expression. “I’m looking forward to teaching you obedience.”

But he never did get to give you his lesson. A shot went off and hit him directly in the chest. He was dead before he could draw another breath and the clone fell shortly after. You were still fixated by the droid, so you could not turn around to the source of the blastershots until he fell victim to them as well.

You spun around in astonishment to see your little sister with her blaster in hand, her chest heaving from the agitation. You exclaimed her name in wonder. How had she managed to fight off the droid? Once again, you were frozen in place. Your sister’s stare bore something venomous.

“You – you let them kill her!” she yelled at you furiously. “How could you?” It was all you could do to hold her glare. She was right, your sister’s death was your fault. “I…I,” you stammered. “I tried…but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” You swallowed heavily. “You were willing to let me die as well. You didn’t even fight the droid,” she went on, tears welling in her eyes. “Alya,” you pleaded with her. “I…I tried…I did…but I…” Her stare remained relentless. “You are a disgrace,” she spat at you. “You always pretend like you’re brave and want to be a Jedi but…you will never be like mom. Never.” She picked the words she knew would sting the most.

“Alya…,” you began anew. “I…I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have saved me. I deserved death.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly at your admission. “We need to get out of here,” was all she said. You nodded slowly and helped her pack some supplies, any food reserves, clothes and medical kits you could find. You covered your parents with cloths. It was all you could do, there was no time for proper funeral rites, but it felt wrong to leave them like this.    

When you climbed back down into the basement to honor the sister you had failed, your gaze fell on the lightsaber. You would need weapons and while the lightsaber had kind of turned into a symbol of your incompetence, you could not stomach to leave it behind.

“I am so sorry.” You sank down next to your older sister and tentatively ran your fingers through her dark hair. You knew you could not linger, so you softly closed her unseeing eyes, said a quick prayer and left the room behind after packing a few more blasters.

Shortly after, you and your sister left your farm and small hometown behind with few credits and no idea where to go next.  

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You opened your eyes, shocked to find yourself back in your ship. Your connection to the Force allowed you to relive memories in far more detail than those with fewer mediclorians in their bloodstream. Though you doubted you could have forgotten anything about that fateful day either way.

You had thought you were ready to finally face it, but obviously weren’t. With a deep sigh, you stood up. You doubted you’d ever be ready; it’s been over 20 years since your family had been butchered and their dead faces still haunted your nightmares. But there was a lot of unresolved trauma in your past and you had to start somewhere.

“Do you – are you hungry?” Mando appeared in the doorframe, putting an end to your flashbacks. You could only stare at him for a moment. The lights of the hallway illuminated his broad figure brilliantly. He was so beautiful in his armor; you could only imagine what a sight he must be without it. You forced these thoughts back, though you weren’t sure if suppressing them would be an effective technique for much longer. There was no going back anymore, not after what had conspired in the cockpit earlier. You swallowed nervously. Why were you nervous? What was wrong with you? Shit, he had asked you something, hadn’t he?

“Dinner?” he asked in a slightly confused tone. You cleared your throat. “Um…sure.”             “Are – are you alright?” he inquired. “Never been better,” you tried to feign nonchalance. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. “So, dinner?” you reminded him and he nodded before turning around. You followed him out of the room to your food stocks, grateful that he didn’t press on.

“Not to overstep the line, but how do you even eat?” you asked carefully while Mando was going through your supplies.

He barked out a quick laugh. “Do you think I eat with my mask on?” He turned around to you and cocked his head. “Um…I – I don’t know,” you stammered and felt your cheeks flush. Dammit, what was wrong with you?

“I can take it off as long as it’s not in front of another person,” Mando explained. “How long has it been since someone else…saw you?” You eyed him curiously. “I guess…it…it must have been well over two…decades.” You gaped at his admission. “Two decades?!” The Mandalorian shrugged and proceeded to pick out your dinner. Wordlessly, he handed you some bread and conserves.

“Two decades,” you repeated in astonishment. “What did you expect?” Mando snapped at you. “Did you think me to be without honor? Did you think I would have abandoned The Way?” You blinked twice, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “I…No, but…I can’t imagine what that must be like. How lone – “Not wanting to offend him, you cut yourself off. “It’s all I know,” he replied dryly, but the venom had left his voice.

“So, dinner…” You looked at the sparse food in your hands and placed it on a small counter top. “Dinner,” he echoed. “How do we…should I leave you alone?” – “You can stay,” he responded quickly to your astonishment. “H-how?” You were genuinely confused at this point. “You don’t rely on your eyesight too much with that power you use, do you?” he questioned. “N-not too much, no,” you answered cautiously, unsure if this was going where you thought it was.

Mando pulled a cloth band out of his belt. “Um…do you always keep that there?” You gulped as he took a step towards you. “Mando, what are you doing?” He came closer. “Mando…I – “ The words died on your tongue as he stepped around you.

“May I?” he inquired as his free hand brushed over your cheekbone. You nodded and his other hand came around to tie the band over your eyes. He gave the knot a testing pull. “Is it too tight?” His fingers trailed over your neck tentatively. “N-no,” you breathed out, still getting accustomed to the sudden deprivation of your sight.

Mando removed his hands from you and you heard him taking a couple of steps away before he lifted his helmet off of his head. While you were blindfolded, you were certain he was studying you shamelessly. Neither of you said anything and the longer the silence lasted, the more tangible the tension became. The quiet was interrupted by the loud grumbling of your stomach which mercifully snapped the growing electricity.

Not able to ignore your appetite anymore, you used the Force to locate your food and picked it up again. You took a greedy bite of the bread. The loaf was surprisingly soft and you devoured it ravenously. Once your immediate hunger was sated, you paused. “Aren’t you gonna eat something as well?” you addressed your fellow traveler. He didn’t respond, but instead you perceived a munching sound shortly after. The two of you finished the meal in companiable silence.

Once you felt utterly stuffed, you asked Mando whether you could take the blindfold off again. While he didn’t reply, you sensed him approaching you. “Do you really want to take it off?” he breathed into your ear. “W-what?” you stammered, dumbfounded by the warmth of his breath and his unexpected proximity.

“Just consider the…advantages…of keeping it on.” Maker, his voice was beautiful, especially without getting warped by the helmet. “Um…” You had absolutely no idea what to say to that. “I guess I’ll have to demonstrate it to you.” Sans warning, his lips were on your neck, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He trailed small kisses across the side of it before reaching your throat. He placed a soft kiss on it as well before moving on and getting less tender. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you shuddered. Being robbed of your sight made the sensation even more powerful. He began to suck at the spot lightly and your mind went blank. The feeling was absolutely divine.

“Holy shit, Mando,” you murmured. You felt him smile against your skin before he sucked harder, earning a soft moan from you. He removed his lips from you for a moment. “You look good like this.” His lips were on yours a second later and you kissed him back out of pure instinct sooner than you realized what was happening. You were amazed by the softness of his lips and as your tongue explored them, you noticed how perfectly they were curved. Mando placed both hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. One of his hands snaked up to your neck to secure you in place. Not that you could even think about breaking the kiss...    

The movements of Mando’s mouth grew ravenous as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. You let yourself get lost in him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing your bodies even closer together, and once again damned the consequences. Sure, your past would eventually catch up with you, but those worries couldn’t be farther from you than they were in this moment. You never knew that kissing could be this mind-expanding, it was like you were getting high off of the taste of him.

After what seemed like an eternity or just a split-second, you weren’t entirely sure, Mando broke the kiss. You heard his heavy breathing as he let forehead lean against yours. Not that your own circulation was much better, only now did you notice the rapid hammering of your heart.

“That was…,” Mando huffed out. “Intense?” you suggested and he chuckled weakly. “I suppose you could say that.” His thumb caressed the back of your neck tenderly. “You – you were right…sometimes the helmet is quite restricting.” You couldn’t hold the grin that spread across your face back and imagined how breathtaking his smile must be. The thought turned bittersweet as you realized you’d probably never get to see his face. Maybe it was for the better…It was far easier to keep the proper emotional distance as long he stayed in his armor…

You lowkey knew you were fooling yourself, but you so desperately wanted to believe that this – whatever this was – was purely physical that you didn’t call yourself out.  

“I could show you the other advantages now,” Mando implied as he let his fingers run over the hem of your pants suggestively. You felt yourself getting wet at the mere insinuation. “If you want to, of course,” he added hastily, making your heart expand ever so slightly in your ribcage.

“You’re really horny, huh?” you retorted. “You’re one to talk.” His hand slapped your as teasingly. “I bet you’re already soaking down there just from the idea of it,” he whispered and you could hear the smug grin forming on his face. His hand slipped through the waistband of your pants and cupped your throbbing pussy from behind. “Fuck;” he groaned. “You are.” He pulled his hand out of your pants again and you felt the slick trail it left in its wake.

“What do you want, Cyar’ika?” he inquired huskily. “My hand, my head or my cock?” You swallowed loudly at his proposal. “Fuck, Mando,” you breathed out. “Your cock.” At this point, you were beyond banter and all you wanted was for him to help the growing ache between your thighs. He moaned at your response.

Without another word, he pulled your pants down before you perceived him taking – or rather ripping – his own pants off. Once more, his mouth found yours and greedily tasted you. You grabbed for him and pulled yourself closer by his arms. Through the proximity, you could feel his hardness press up against your stomach. He ground out a soft curse before removing his lips from yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” His voice sounded breathless, yet incredibly soft. “Yes,” you assured him and he put his hands on your hips to steady you. Your blood began to pulse through your veins as you anticipated his next move.  

You felt him shifting a little so that his cock was placed at your slick entrance. The first contact with him made you throb more violently. You needed him inside you more than you had ever needed anything, but fortunately, you didn’t have to beg for him.

He thrust his hips up slowly, letting get accustomed to the sensation. A wanton moan escaped your throat at how deliciously he filled you and he remained inside for a moment before pulling his length back out. After a few more agonizingly slow thrusts, you cried out: “Faster.” Mando gladly obliged and his pace quickened. With each intrusion, he somehow got a little deeper and hit a different sensitive spot which drove you absolutely crazy. In an attempt to keep in touch with reality, you grabbed his shoulders and hung onto them for dear life as he pounded into you relentlessly.

 Involuntarily, you shifted a little, but that was enough. The small change of position and angle made his thrusts all the more devastating. Suddenly, he was hammering straight into your G-spot and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept going like this. “Mando,” you moaned. “I’m – fuck – so close.” You threw your head back as his grip on your waist tightened. “Good,” he exhaled and increased his velocity. You heard yourself cry out his name in response. He captured your mouth with his and you felt your release building up further. As if all of that wasn’t enough, one of his hands slipped between your conjoined bodies and started to stimulate your clit. An obscenely loud moan escaped your throat.

Your body couldn’t handle this anymore and you came so hard that you saw stars. His pace didn’t falter as he rode you through it and had you sobbing his name. Even once you were spent to the last drop, he didn’t slow down. If anything, he pounded into your hole with a new energy. You felt yourself tightening around him again as he stimulated the area that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.” His praise was almost lost in a wail of you. “Your pussy is – so – so – tight. Fits me so well.” He accentuated his words with his shoves. One of your hands gripped his hair and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. Even in your delirious state, you appreciated the silky texture of his hair as you let your fingers run through it. His hand left your clit and moved to your butt cheek to give it a firm squeeze. Your kisses grew feverously while he continued to utterly wreck you with his dick. Gasping for air, you pulled back for a second. Your companion, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need oxygen as badly as you did though since he immediately began to nibble on your jaw. His tongue flicked against the skin and he proceeded to voraciously kiss his way down your neck.

When his mouth reached the lowest part of it, he started to suck on it hardly, coaxing a gasp from you. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge for the second time at the combination of him pounding into you and bruising your sensitive skin. Your grip on his hair tightened as your walls constricted around his cock. Mando groaned loudly as his mouth left your neck before moving on to the next patch of skin.

Your orgasm washed through you with even more force than the first one and you were in pieces by the end of it. Sweat tickled down your forehead and seeped through the blindfold, wetting your brows. Mando removed his mouth from your neck and to your lips again as you were trying to regain your composure. You barely even registered the abrupt hitch of his hips as he himself was driven over the edge. His kissed turned wild and he bit down on your lip as release barreled through him. The coppery taste of your blood mixed in your mouths as he thrust into you a few more times until he was completely spent.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned out as he detached his mouth from yours. Neither of you moved for a while, both of you still recovering. Finally, he pulled his cock out of your leaking pussy and gave your ass one last soft slap before letting go of you completely. Your hands remained tangled in his hair and on his shoulders.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what would happen if you let go of him. You didn’t trust your legs to support you enough in your current state. Mando seemed to realize it because suddenly, you weren’t on the ground anymore as he picked you up and softly put you down on the floor. You felt him removing your hands from him before he took a few steps back. Too exhausted to really question what was happening, you just slumped down further.

You heard him move towards you again and before you knew it, tender hands removed the blindfold from your eyes. You blinked rapidly at the sudden overstimulation of your nerves and once you could kind of see clearly, you noticed the Mandalorian kneeling next to you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his raspy voice modulated again. You cleared your throat before answering. “For what?” – “For the distraction.” Without another word, he stood up and left.

His words took a few seconds to register in your brain, but once they did, you felt wrecked for entirely less pleasant reasons than a moment prior. Distraction? Was that what that had been? Why were you feeling…disappointed? Sad? Hurt? About it...? You wanted nothing more than a physical conjoining and that was what he delivered. Still…Something about it stung deeply. You tried to shake the odd feeling off, but to no avail. Somehow, it lingered and only secured its spot in your heart the more time passed.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

#din djarin/reader #din dijarin x reader #smut #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian #fanfic #Din kind of talking like an elderly Victorian gentleman #what am i even doing

[keeptheotherone]

Mecation: Day 1 

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages. 

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life. 

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college. 

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to.  Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with. 

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential! 

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day. 

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease. 

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian. 

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :) 

#ktoo travels #covid coping #mental health #about ktoo #ktoo nurses #herself

[eldrai]

Skeleton Crew

Whumptober 2021 - Day 4 - Prompt: Taken Hostage

masterpost / read on ao3

Character: Garcia

Warnings: guns, mentions/references to gun violence, brief description of a dead body, canon-typical references to murder. This is a heavy one.

Words: 4.3k

Summary: A late night in the office, the team in California and an unwelcome visitor.

Penelope checks the weather forecast again and is intensely jealous of the team right now – the sun in California must be nice. Certainly better than the miserable downpours lingering over D.C.

Then again, sunshine is considerably tainted by child homicide cases, so it’s a lot less pleasant than a holiday. And the time difference is a little irritating, too—she keeps blinking and time slips by just like that. Two o’clock in the morning last time she’d checked, and for them it was only late evening.

With her search algorithms booted up and running, she has little to do except wait for it to send her hits. Her screens fade into her screensaver, bubbles bouncing off each other. Maybe she should change it up a bit. The default is sort of boring, now that she thinks about it.

The door squeaks. She scoots back in her chair and spins it around.

“Kev—”

Penelope trails off.

The man standing in the doorway is a sturdy build. He stands tall as if he’s used to it and his jaw is set, mouth pressed into a thin line. She swallows. Deep brown hair cropped short, dark eyes she finds herself compelled to look into and away from, his face registers as neither familiar or threatening. There is no ID badge pinned to his shirt. No visitors’ lanyard around his neck.

He does, however, have a rifle resting across his chest.

Her mouth goes dry. His easy confidence takes on a darker edge, and she has to tear her eyes from the gun to examine his face. Memorise every unique identifier just in case—

Well.

Just in case.

“Where are they?” the man demands. She’s taken aback at how young he sounds, how unsteady it is against the rest of his posturing.

“Where are who?” Penelope asks. She inches slowly towards her phone, sat carelessly on the edge of her desk, and wipes her hands’ clamminess away on her skirt.

“Behavioural Analysis Unit,” the man says. “Says they’re here.”

There is no air in her lungs and her insides are water, heavy and twisting. “The… the unit is here, but they’re away right now.”

Whether this will enrage the man or please him – his lined forehead gives her the impression it’ll be the former – she doesn’t care. Nobody smuggles a gun like that into FBI headquarters for a friendly chat.

“I don’t believe you,” he says. “Show me.”

“…show you what?”

His knuckles blanche as his grip on the gun tightens. “Where they are! Where they’re supposed to be, I don’t – you’re lying.”

Penelope shakes her head. She can’t leave. Her phone and her computer and her everything is in this room. The team are hundreds of miles away and the bureau runs on a skeleton crew at this time of night. She knows it’s irrational – she has as much chance talking him down here as in another room – but she can’t help it.

Stall, she thinks frantically. Buy time. Buy time for… for something, she’ll come up with something. Co-operate but don’t let him take her to a secondary location (does that count if it’s in the same building? She hadn’t asked. It hadn’t occurred to her.)

“I’m not,” she promises. “I’ll show you the office, I just… well, I don’t know your name?”

The man’s face hardens. “My name.”

“If you’re waiting for the team, we’re gonna be here a while,” Penelope jokes. Her voice sounds hollow. “I didn’t mean anything, I – I – normally I don’t get many people down here, so it’s nice.”

“Just show me where they work.”

Her hand clasps around her phone but his sharp gaze catches the movement and he shifts, lifting the barrel of the gun slightly. “And leave that here.”

She does. Moving slowly, waiting for his permission – or lack of objection, seeing as he’s not much of a talker – she stands and walks out of the room with him on her heels. The artificial fluorescents and unappealing beige strike her as unfriendly. Cold. This is not somewhere she belongs.

Her body isn’t hers. She isn’t herself.

“Okay, so this isn’t going to go well for you,” Penelope says, “but just so you know, it’s really really not gonna go down well with the rest—”

Metal cracks against her skull and white-hot pain saps her vision. She stumbles forwards, slumps along the wall to keep balance. She tastes the blood before she feels it: her lip is split where she’d bitten down with the momentum.

Her eyes sting with tears as he marches her onwards with the gun brushing the sore spot.

Penelope hardly expects there to be anyone around. That doesn’t mean she’s not awfully frightened when they reach the unit without having encountered so much as a janitor. Her heart races in her chest like it’s competing with her rapid, shallow breaths.

It’s so much different when everyone is away. In the day it gives her pause, to see the bullpen so still and quiet, but at night it’s downright eerie.

The man directs her to sit at a desk. He sweeps the phone off the desk and yanks the plug out by the cord.

“Stay there, and be quiet,” he barks.

The man prowls around the bullpen, pulling out drawers and rifling through papers left on the desks, glancing at name plates. He isn’t looking for anything specifically – she doesn’t think – but it makes her nervous just the same. She wishes he was. Then he’d leave.

His hand is never far from the trigger.

When he turns his attention back to her (and she curses herself for not looking, not finding some way to contact someone and let them know about the man, a gunman, here, breaking every assumption of safety she’s ever made) he moves jerkily. Almost twitchy. His eyes don’t settle.

“Call them,” he orders.

Penelope blinks. “I don’t have my phone.”

He reaches into a pocket in his cargos and tosses a cheap cell on the desk. She reaches for it as if it’s a bomb, handles it tentatively, glancing up at him intermittently. It strikes her as a risk, to give a hostage a phone, and some painful part of her points out he must be pretty desperate.

(She doesn’t want to have sympathy for him. She doesn’t. But…)

(She doesn’t even know his name and he’s threatened her life.)

Her fingers hover over the 9 for a touch too long and he lifts the gun. Penelope moves on. Though her mind has gone blank her muscle memory kicks in and she keys in Hotch’s phone number. She’d call Morgan but if they aren’t all together, it’s… probably better to let him know about the situation.

The man. The angry man. The angry man with a large gun. That situation.

Angry. And, she thinks as she hits call, afraid.

It rings.

Rings.

Rings.

What if he doesn’t answer? What’s the man going to do? What does he even want? A stone settles in her stomach and she finds herself longing for the boredom not half an hour ago. Grey skies and thunderstorms.

The man shifts. His shoulders are pulled back into a firm line and – how’s he going to react? This is going to make him more stressed, which is going to make him more vulnerable, which is going to make him more danger—

“Who is this?”

Oh thank god. Thank god.

The man puts a finger to his lips and slices his hand across his throat. Penelope nods. She sets the phone on the table and wrings her hands.

“I thought she was lying,” the man says. “The phone makes it harder but it’s… it’s okay.”

“Who are you?” Hotch asks. “What do you mean?”

The man runs a hand through his hair as he paces. “My brother didn’t do what you all said. You said he killed them and he didn’t. You’re wrong.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Hotch says, “and I don’t know who your brother is. How did you get this number?”

The man jerks his head at her. Penelope swallows. Her throat itches like sandpaper. “…Um, hi sir.”

“Garcia? What’s going on?”

“That’s how,” the man says. “That’s why you’re going to listen to me.”

Her blood runs ice cold. Agitated, the man begins to pace.

“It must be important,” Hotch says, “whatever it is you want to say, if you’ve gone to these lengths.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking important,” the man barks. “I told you. He didn’t do it. Jamie’s not like that.”

“Jamie’s your brother.”

“Don’t!” he snaps. Penelope flinches. “James, call him James, don’t—”

“James,” Hotch corrects. The line crackles with static as the phone rustles against something. It clicks. “What did James not do?”

A harsh laugh. “You put him in jail for life and… and, what, you don’t remember? Ruin enough lives that you don’t care?”

“I wouldn’t want to think of the wrong James. I remember, but James is a common name. I’m listening.”

“He’d never do that,” the man says. “That’s what everyone said. It’s true. Jamie doesn’t kill people.”

“I think my colleagues can remember James better than I do,” Hotch says carefully. “They’ll listen too. Can they talk to you as well?”

“I don’t care!”

She has the sudden thought that if she stays still enough, the man might forget she exists. That she might not exist. Just stay outside her body like this, terrified and numb and freezing and hot all at the same time.

“I need James’ surname.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course you do,” he sneers. “And then you know who I am and then everyone’s making up shit about me too.”

“So you’re presumably holding an FBI agent hostage,” Rossi interjects, “and you’re worried about your privacy now?”

A pinprick of pain at the tip of her finger. She’s bitten at the skin around her nails, hadn’t realised she was doing it.

“No, I’m worried about getting arrested for things I never did. Like James. You’d – you’d want people to stop saying things if it was you.”

“Not really,” Rossi says. “What they say about me is true. So what is it you want, you or James?”

“He’s innocent,” the man says. “I want him out of prison.”

“Wrong people. You’d want the department of justice for—”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re not listening!”

Pallid face reddening with rage, he stalks around the table and in one swift motion yanks her hair to force her head back. She cries out in pain.

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t really care but you have to listen,” he says. “Didn’t you hear me? Didn’t the other one tell you? I’ve got Garcia, right here.”

“Sir,” Penelope says. “Please. He’s got a gun. Just listen. I just want to get home.”

“See?” the man says. He loosens his grip. “You listen or she gets hurt.”

“We understand,” Hotch says. She wonders where Morgan and Reid and Prentiss are, hopes it’s the same room. “But without a name, we can’t help James and even if we could, it’s a much longer process to release him. We don’t have a say about that.”

“Bureaucracy and all that,” Rossi says.

“James Horwat,” the man says. “Ring any bells?”

It is a quiet but distinctive noise, the way he clears his throat. “Actually, yes.”

Reid. Of course he’d remember.

She loves him to death but she really, really hopes he doesn’t put his foot in his mouth this time. Not with the gun still levelled at her.

“You do?” The man’s voice lifts.

“He was twenty-three,” Reid says. “You… so you must have been Isaac.”

Isaac. It’s strange to have a name to his face. Strange to think about his parents, about him, the decisions which must’ve gone into picking a name. All the choices that led him here tonight.

“Yeah,” the man says, “yeah, you do remember. But James didn’t do it.”

“We found the evidence in his car,” Reid says. “We didn’t find anything to contradict it, where… where should we have looked?”

Penelope doesn’t take her eyes off the gun as the man – Isaac – takes a frustrated walk around the desk before he brings himself to answer. “I don’t know. That’s your job. James never hurt them and now he’s in prison.”

“We must have gone wrong somewhere,” Hotch says. “If there’s an innocent man serving time. I think you must have some idea what happened.”

“Everyone wanted it to be Jamie,” the man says. “It was easy. To get rid of him. They just said he did it.”

“Why did they want to get rid of James?” Reid asks.

“He wasn’t right,” the man says. “In the head. He wasn’t – it wasn’t his fault that he was like that. But he never killed them. Nobody ever listened. I had to come here. That’s why. Nobody would listen.”

“I know,” Reid says. “I’m sorry. And I think, I think you might know, I think you know this isn’t a good way to do it.”

Penelope freezes.

“It’s not right,” the man says, “what they did to Jamie. I’m not gonna let you try and tell me it is. I know how it goes.”

“It isn’t,” Reid says. “It’s not right. And I want to talk to you so we can help James but I can’t do that while you’re with Garcia.”

The man glares at her, and ice runs down her spine. Reid’s voice hurts—she wants to be there, with them. Wants them here. Anything but to be alone with this man right now.

“You’re doing it now,” the man says. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, restless. “She isn’t going anywhere until you help him. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Don’t make me.”

“So you’re… you’re there with Garcia,” Reid says. “How did you manage that? I know you don’t want to hurt her but is there—”

“It doesn’t matter!”

She flinches. His voice cuts through the silence and lingers long after he stops talking.

“Let us talk to her,” Rossi says.

Isaac takes in a long breathe and his hands settle on the rifle. His throat bobs as he swallows. She doesn’t dare look up at him. “Tell them.”

“He…” Penelope studies his face – in a word, nondescript. No details which stand out. DNA is good but she’s not getting close enough to get his hair or his skin. She doesn’t like to think why those are so valuable.

She’s going to be fine.

“…he isn’t lying. It’s okay. I’m fine, I… well, it’s kinda cold up here, do you guys always keep the office so freezing?” Penelope says. She just hopes they know what she means. Not that they’d be the ones getting her out of here, not from California, but… knowledge is power, right?

(It has to be. It’s all she has left.)

“But yeah, I’m… it’s okay. He hasn’t hurt anyone, we didn’t even run into someone.”

Her chest aches and her voice is fragile. She pokes her tongue at her split lip, where the bleeding has started up again, hates the metallic taste. Fear. There’s something wet on the back of her neck—she cringes at the tacky feeling of dried blood.

“I’m not leaving,” Isaac insists. “I know they’re gonna arrest me. I don’t care how long for. This is for Jamie.”

“It doesn’t have to be a long time.” Hotch again, calm and flat. Like this is just any other conversation. “You haven’t hurt anyone and you don’t want to, and you’re just trying to help your brother.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You’ve got one now,” he says. “Just let Garcia go, and everyone will understand.”

Isaac’s face twists into something pained, and Penelope sinks down in her seat. She’s not sure whether he’ll swing into anger or sadness and not sure how he’d react to either.

“I can’t,” he insists. “I can’t, nobody is listening! I can’t.”

“This is your best way out,” Rossi says. “Take it.”

His eyes are wet. “Do you know what they said? They found ‘em with – they thought he’d hurt them. He wouldn’t. Not like that.”

“Not like what, Isaac?” Reid’s quiet, soft. It works. It occurs to her that Reid must know, must remember.

Penelope hardly dares to breathe. Isaac’s hands shake with the strength of his grip on the gun.

“Jamie wouldn’t,” Isaac repeats. “He was good. He’d never. He wouldn’t do it to them.”

“To them.”

A pained sob. He’s an ugly crier, face twisted, choking breaths. “It was just us. He didn’t do it. It wasn’t for them. Jamie didn’t do it.”

Her fingers are numb despite her blood roaring in her ears. The room is a vacuum. She can’t breathe.

“I know,” Reid says.

“No!” the man barks. Penelope jumps. He’s moving, a hand raking through his hair, heavy, thumping footsteps. “You don’t. Just stop. I’m staying here. Don’t make me hurt her.”

Just over his panting, she catches the low murmur of voices in the background. Must be on their end. Maybe it’s the others coming to find out what’s going on.

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” Reid says. “None of us want someone to get hurt, Isaac. That’s the thing. We all want this to go well. And it’s best for you if you let us have Garcia.”

Isaac shakes his head frantically. “I don’t care about me.”

“You care about Jamie,” he chances. “He wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Shut up.”

“Just let her go,” Reid implores. “That’s all you have to do. We’re here. We’re still listening.”

His frenzied eyes settle on her for a long time. Penelope swallows back her own fear and meets his gaze, holds it until he breaks and looks away. Not threatening. Just a look. A last ditch effort to make him recognise the humanity reflected back at him.

To save her life.

“No,” Isaac says.

“Please,” she whispers. She feels it in her throat before she hears it, hardly a sound at all. He drums his fingers on the barrel of the gun and she wonders how heavy it is.

If he hears it, he gives no indication.

“Don’t do this,” Reid says. “There’s a lot of ways to settle this and none of them are going to hurt people. Don’t you want that?”

Through gritted teeth, he snarls. “Just ‘cause I want it doesn’t mean I’ll get it.”

“Penelope – that’s Garcia – she had nothing to do with it,” Reid says. “Be angry at us. Be angry at everyone involved but she wasn’t.”

She tastes bile. He’s trying to humanise her, and they aren’t so much negotiating as just begging him not to. This is Reid’s last-ditch attempt too.

What are her last words going to be?

Penelope has so many things to think and say and do and this can’t be it, this can’t be.

The silence cracks.

She ducks down off the chair, knees landing hard on the ground, ignoring the stinging pain as she presses against the desk. Someone is screaming. Glass splinters. Penelope squeezes her eyes closed and waits for the pain.

It’s her. The screaming. It’s her and she hadn’t realised. She chokes on a ragged inhale and forces herself to stay quiet, be quiet, hide and maybe he won’t find her and it might be okay and oh god is she going to go home tonight at all.

Penelope’s hair stands on end. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. The sharp crack echoes out and a sickly silence creeps in on its absence.

A wet gurgle. Her heart jumps into her throat. She cracks an eye open and sweeps the ground for the dirty work boots.

Blood.

Jolted into action, she opens both eyes and examines herself: arms and legs first – no bleeding – chest and stomach and she reaches a hand to touch her shoulders and shouldn’t a gunshot be screaming at her? Shouldn’t she feel the rush of wet heat and the white-hot flaring pain?

Penelope gulps. Her teeth are chattering like she’s cold. Every one of her joints has turned to jelly, weak and wobbly. The ringing in her ears surges back to life.

She can’t move.

She can’t stay.

Clinging onto the edge of the desk, Penelope peers around it slowly. Bright blood speckles the carpet, growing closer and closer until the dark pool of blood soaking a rough circle. It’s not just blood. Some of it is…

Solid.

She retches.

The man’s hands are clasped around his rifle. He’s sprawled out on the ground and she traces the line of his body with her gaze. Long legs. Black cargos. Bloodsoaked shirt. Hollow neck.

His humanity ends there. Everything else is splintered: fragments of a man he used to be. No eyes or nose or mouth or brain. Just blood and pulp.

Penelope scrambles backwards, elbows scraping the ground, legs giving out beneath her. She hits the back of a table and hauls herself to her feet, clinging on it for balance as dizziness crashes over her.

She closes her eyes. Her breath comes louder, rapid and shallow, and she forces herself to exhale through her nose. Just breathe. Everything else can come later. Without vision, sound comes rushing back.

“—there?”

The phone.

Somewhere.

She staggers to the other desk and grasps the phone like a lifeline. Wipes a smear of blood off the screen and tries not to think about it. “He… he’s…”

“Garcia, are you there?”

“I’m here,” she says. “He’s dead, I’m here, I… oh my god… I’m okay. Not okay okay because there’s blood and… him… and everything everywhere but it’s not my blood and oh it’s on the ceiling, that’s never gonna come out of the carpet and yep, the walls as well, seriously, that’s never going to look the same and I don’t care about the paint, why am I talking about it I swear I’m okay—”

“Breathe, baby girl,” Morgan interjects.

Penelope sobs with relief. “Derek Morgan, you wonderful, beautiful man,” she says when she can talk past the lump in her throat. She nearly drops the phone with her shaking hands.

“Uh-huh, just stay focused on me,” he says. “You’re all right. It’s over.”

“He’s… I know, I just didn’t… there’s so much…”

“I know. We didn’t really want you to see that, but, uh…”

“Sending people inside would have stressed him and he’d have reacted unpredictably,” Hotch says. “Otherwise we would have done that.”

“They’re sending someone up there,” Morgan says. “Agents Matthews and Singh. They’ll have their ID on them.”

She blanks out for a moment, talking without registering what she’s saying, then she pulls a chair closer to the – a – desk, untouched, and boots up the computer. The old terminal rattles. Probably the fan loose in its brackets, maybe the hard drive. It doesn’t matter.

Every so often she takes a deep breath and glances behind her for the agents. Or worse. Penelope keeps her line of sight high because she cannot bear seeing that again; the cloying iron smell threatens to choke her. Her wrist aches and she lets go of the phone, working against every instinct to hold it and keep it (because it’s all she has right now he’s gone but he isn’t and what if he wasn’t alone?) by placing it on the desk.

When the monitor blinks to life, he nearly gets herself locked out by mistyping her password – her hands are wracked with fine tremors and keep hitting the wrong keys – but her luck improves when she can just use the mouse for everything. Muscle memory kicks in and she’s booting up a video call. Voices wash over her. She just – she has to see them.

And it goes all staticky. Her stomach swoops as her mind jumps to late-night horror movies, severed internet connections and dark houses, but it clears up just as fast.

The first view she has is an unflattering angle of Rossi’s neck, the man unaware for a good few seconds, and Penelope’s tears turn into a watery laughter as the usual arguments ensue: Rossi complaining about the software, Morgan calling instructions from one side and Hotch from the other, both contradicting, Reid squeezing himself into a gap in the background to catch a glimpse of her. Prentiss’s saying something about men and Penelope doesn’t need to see her to envision JJ’s eye roll. The laptop ends up in her hands as she undoes whatever settings the others have accidentally triggered.

Just their faces, faint shapes blurred through the tears, is enough to set her off again. Someone cuts off the phone call as their voices layer over one another.

“—you okay?”

“—good to see you—”

“—is that your blood—”

“—have Singh and Matthews—”

“—hey, you’re gonna make Reid cry in a second—”

“—I will not—”

She doesn’t smile but her mouth twitches upwards at the corners, more genuine than a forced grin could ever be.

It takes the agents an hour and a half to get to her – sweeping the building first, and though there’s a substantial team doing it their buildings aren’t exactly small – and they stay on with her, all of them, the whole time. Crashing from the adrenaline, she ends up with her head leaning back against the seat and listening to the ebb and flow of their conversation. And Morgan offers to stay on the phone with her after that, too, as the EMTs examine a (thankfully) superficial head wound and Matthews drives her home, and in the end Penelope has to hang up so she can have a shower before she passes out right then and there on her couch.

She lies down for a moment before she dries her hair and…

The sharp rapping jolts her awake, heart in her throat.

“Hey, Garcia?”

Penelope bolts upright and hardly stops for a millisecond to check the peephole; she opens the door and collapses into Morgan’s arms. A gentle hand running through her hair – JJ – and Prentiss on her other side, she can’t fight the tears and doesn’t try to. She’s home, really and truly. She's safe.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #criminal minds #fanfic #cm fanfic #garcia #eldrai does whumptober #criminal minds fanfic #cw guns

[pinkcatharsis]

I dunno if I should legit continue this because I can’t remember where I was going with it. Read a prompt at @sloaners anon or a comment in one of their posts (fantastic art btw go check it out!) about Tsunade adopting a bb Tenzou and well. I wrote this and it’s unfinished and yeah.

I actually don’t even have a title for it. Was supposed to be an eventual YamaIru, too. Oh well!

—

Names have power, they say.

Tenzou can agree to a certain point because his experience from his missions, his targets, countless reconnaissance on high profile politicians has proven that people tend to cower from the syllables of a name if they are a threat.

Names carry prestige more than an identity.Names give history, are the pillars for legacy provided it is a name the people can accept. More often than not, it is a vessel for fear, control

They’re also a convenient excuse for people to either sing with high praise or forget because the truth is always a pill too hard to swallow.

Sometimes it lies ignored despite its great sacrifice to stop a rampaging monster, when the womb still bleeds fresh and a goodbye too soon falls from crimson lips. It is ignored because it is easier to hate someone helpless than to acknowledge a name that saved everyone.

Sometimes it is indifferent, distant, as cold as the unreadable, white irises of its clansmen.

Sometimes it lies abandoned, walls cracking, dust collecting over blood stained tatami mats where the weight of shame fueled enough strength to slice through flesh. Shame because of a choice to save one’s comrades as opposed to prioritising the mission.

Sometimes it is soaking in blood, whispers of its massacre echoing loud, and towards the end of it, the word traitor.

And sometimes, they’re just old, only remembered through history that is a core subject within the Academy walls, a prerequisite in terms of knowledge for every Konoha shinobi. They’re faded, scattered, heirless, visually only present through the carvings of stone that towers over the village.

Tenzou is conditioned to not pay any heed to something as trivial as a name. Not when he’s been conditioned, trained extremely well, that the only thing that matters is servitude to the village. That the name Konoha is the only thing of true value.

Greater people have sacrificed themselves for the good of village and now, their heir wanders Konoha’s walls shunned, sneered, hated, ignored. Their names hardly mattered in the present -- it’s like the Yellow Flash only exists as a tier to be achieved in terms of talent, hard work and mission success and nothing else. As if the man behind the legacy hardly existed.

Legacy means nothing, Tenzou realizes, in the grand scheme of things.

When you die, you just die.

It’s okay to die nameless.

*

Tenzou hears about Tsunade’s arrival tucked behind the cover of an open locker door. Apparently, Tsunade-hime is in the village for a visit. And like always, she has spent her first day sitting with her former sensei, having tea until she had flung the table across the room, out the window in a fit of uncontrolled, roiling rage.

“I think it’s because sandaime is asking her to stay,” one fellow ANBU says.

“No, it’s got something to do with her gambling debt for sure,” another says.

“Monkey says it has something to do with the council pressuring her to produce an heir,” a softer voice says.

“I thought she couldn’t?”

“Or she doesn’t want to?”

The conversation explodes, only coming to a sudden stop when the sound of a door opening puts a halt on the outright gossip that Tenzou shamefully has been eavesdropping on. Someone dares throw a table out the window in front of the Hokage? And the Hokage does nothing? Tenzou thinks back to Danzou an Root -- if any of them dared show such insubordination, that would mean at least half a day’s worth of lashings under the scorching sun and then dry fasting isolation for thirty-six hours. Not many tend to survive that but that would just mean they’re too weak to remain in Root, anyway.

“Don’t you guys have better things to do?” Kakashi’s voice cuts through with a drawl. It is followed by a series of locker doors shutting, rapid shuffling and then silence. “Oi, Tenzou. The Hokage needs you.”

Tenzou straightens, tugging his clean armor on and running a comb through his damp hair. He slams his locker shut and gives his senpai a wordless nod, acknowledging the summon.

*

A summon that suddenly renders him not so nameless anymore.

Tsunade is a towering figure, heals almost five inches high, back straight, eyebrows narrowed, hands on her hip and staring down at him like he’s a two year old.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Tenzou responds, keeping perfectly still. He isn’t intimidated by Tsunade’s persona. He’s just feeling a little too awkward because if Tsunade leaned any closer to examine him, her breasts would be ten centimeters too close to his face to be called professional, let alone proper.

“You are awfully small for a fourteen year old,” Tsunade tartly says, almost disappointed.

“I am a hundred and twenty nine and a half centimeters,” Tenzou agrees, well aware of how stunted his growth is. Danzou always factored his slow growth to the radiation and chemical exposure, a side effect to the experimentation Tenzou miraculously survived. But small doesn’t mean weak, Danzou had said, one of the few times he had been encouraging.

“Do you even eat, boy?” Tsunade scoffs.

“Yes. Five meals a day when I am in the village, continuously supplemented by calorically dense ration bars that Danzou-sama advised to--”

“Hah! Which one -- the one that tastes like sweet wet newspaper or the one that tastes like mouldy bread?” Tsunade snorts.

Tenzou finds himself stammering a little, glancing a little cluelessly at the Sandaime who is taking a very, very long drag from his pipe. Tenzou’s mouth quickly clamps shut before he can voice out his confusion. He can’t honestly say he knows what mouldy bread tastes like nor can he say he’s actually tried eating wet newspaper, let alone a sweetened one. So he goes with what he thinks is the correct response to this kind of inquiry. “The N-4150?”

“Sweet, wet newspaper. At least that old fart chose the better formula.” Tsunade rolls her eyes before taking - thank heavens - a proper step back.

Tenzou blinks once, altering between Tsunade now very put-upon expression and the Sandaime who is standing there as if he were part of the book shelf. “Hokage-sama, should I not continue consuming the N-4150?”

Sandaime rumbles an amused noise, blowing out a slow stream of tobacco smoke before he stands, rounding the table. “Why don’t you demonstrate your Mokuton skills for Tsunade, Tenzou? After all, that is the reason you were summoned here.”

It gets another eyeroll, with a bit of a scoff from Tsunade, who crosses her arms under her breasts.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou acknowledges.

He puts his hands together, channels just enough chakra and forms a small pot in his hands, slowly filling it with roots coiling until it sprouts green leaves, topped with large, black centered white poppies.

“Oh, white poppies,” Sandaime smiles, his face wrinkling. “An interesting choice. You see, Tsunade, Tenzou here has been studying botany for a year now. He’s a bit of an artist with his gardening. Tenzou, didn’t you recently start studying architecture as well?”

“I have only started reading some reference books three months ago, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou responds, with a bit of a nod, as his fingers tightens a little bit around the pot in his hands, not quite sure what to do with his creation-demonstration.

“Hmmm,” Sandaime hums, a touch bemused before he brings his pipe back up to his lips. “Reminds you of someone, doesn’t it, Tsunade?”

Tenzou looks at Tsunade, who in a space of a heartbeat looks far too young in a show of vulnerability, as her throat bobs when he swallows. It gets washed away when he clicks her tongue and turns to look at Tenzou, giving him a once over.

“Well, no one fucks with grandfather’s DNA, gets away with it and then keep it from me. Had it been anyone else but Danzou, Root of all places, I wouldn’t take issue! When did you discover your Mokuton skills, boy?”

“A year before I graduated from the Academy.” Tenzou swallows. “I was five years old.”

“Nine years! With that creep!” Tsuande shouts.

Sandaime’s tobacco inhale had to be the longest one Tenzou has ever seen.

Sandaime exhales, responding with a sigh, “Better late than never, hmm?”

“Fine.” Tsaunde grouches. “I’ll do it. Tenzou, you can call me okaa-san when you’re ready.”

The pot drops from Tenzou’s hands.

“Eh?”

Tenzou thinks it's a good response. Given the proverbial punch to the face he’s just received.

*

It’s not that Tenzou wants to say he cares much for the idea of family.

It’s more like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

(What does family even mean?)

So Tenzou, much like every other time he gets moved around like he’s no more than a potted plant, agrees.

Not like it really matters, right?

He thinks of it as just having another sort of… superior?

*

A superior that Tenzou apparently now gets to live with after all of those paperwork.

In a large, inherited estate, closed off, covered in wildly growing flora and fauna. The estate does not look like it’s been lived in for decades. There is damage from the growth of vines, some of it poking through the tatami doors, and getting to the interior of the house. There are a few soda cans littered around the gate, some old, some new. Likely the result of dares from the younger crowd of Konoha.

The once heralded Senju estate that Hashirama and Tobirama and their families once resided in is now nothing more than a shadow of its former glory. Uncared for. Outdated. Obsolete.

“Well,” Tsunade huffs. “I haven’t seen this place in, hmm, ten years maybe? Maybe twelve? Tche, what a dump.”

Tsunade toes an old, faded orange soda can by her heel, kicking it further away.

Tenzou wishes he’s no more than a spore in the ground. Should he say something? He may be a Senju by name and by experimental DNA, but that doesn’t really make him a Senju-Senju.

It’s just circumstances.

“Well? What do you think, kid? You like the house?” Tsunade holds her hand out at the once upon a time regal grounds, now overgrown with weeds and littered with random junk.

Tenzou looks at the estate again and decides to go with the most diplomatically acceptable response there is in this case.

“It’s a lot bigger than my apartment,” Tenzou politely responds, as his eyes stray towards the patch of wildly growing rosary pea and oleander growing by the gate.

Tsunade’s booming laughter echoes throughout the entire compound, bemused and real. She doubles over, slapping a hand on her knee, her laugh tapering off to a bit of a wheeze. It almost sounds nervous. A little hysterical even.

Tenzou tilts his head to the side, staring up at this woman, this new mother of his, a legendary sannin, one of the most if not the best, medic there is in the country.

Would it be rude to ask her if she is okay?

“Kid,” Tsunade snorts, shaking her head, reaching out to ruffle Tenzou’s long hair. “I like your sense of humor. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

*

Tsunade asks to see his apartment.

And then proceeds to wear what Tenzou can only assume is her analytical face. It’s peppered with a little judgment, too.

Tenzou’s current apartment is a shoebox in size, with enough space for a single bed, a small sectioned off wall by the door turned to a makeshift kitchen and a connecting bathroom that Tsunade, no doubt, will have to carefully manage her long limbs.

“You like it here?” Tsunade asks, her lips twisting at the sight of the old hotplate on the tiny kitchen counter.

“It serves its purpose.” Tenzou shrugs.

“That wasn’t my question,” Tsaunde prompts, turning that analytical gaze back to Tenzou.

Tenzou frowns, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his head in partial confusion, partial irritation. It’s a comfortable space -- what is she on about? Having an opinion on something as trivial as a living space serves no purpose in the betterment of Tenzou’s skills in the field. It has no correlation to his successful mission counts. Liking something or anything for that matter doesn’t make missions easier or harder, either.

Unsure of how to respond, Tenzou resorts to Danzou’s advice when it comes to undercover. If you’re caught in a tight spot, the easiest thing to slip out of attention is to either blend with your surroundings or mirror the person in front of you.

Tenzou goes for the mirror, sloping his eyebrows down the same way Tsunade is, relaxing his shoulder to what looks like a wary slump, canting his head just the tiniest bit to the side, and responds with what he hopes is a conclusion to this conversation, “It’s all right.”

Tsunade goes quiet for a while, before she sighs slowly and curses under her breath.

“Let’s try this again,” Tsunade sighs, gesticulating with her hand towards the entirety of the small apartment. “What do you think would make this space better suited for you? Take into consideration that you are also currently studying botany and architecture.”

Tenzou looks at the small stack of reference books he had borrowed from the public library, how he has to do most of his reading on the bed. If he had to sketch on drawing paper, he usually does so on the ceiling given the lack of floor space and a full flat wall that isn’t lined with bulging pipes or the sil of the window, with the paper taped on the corners. Makes it easier for him to get on his knees and practice his pencil sketches.

“Then that’s something you should consider when you fix our house, hmm?”

Oh. So he’s fixing it.

Well.

Okay, then.

—

And yeah that’s all I got. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#yamato tenzo #anbu tenzo #tenzou yamato #yamairu #tsunade adopts tenzou #tsunade is wine mama #senju tenzou #please help yamato

[vickylamore]

This Park Is Greener Than Others [1]

Lawyer AU, Prosecutor AU, Trial AU, Police AU

TW: Language, Mentions Of Murder, Mentions Of Death, Mentions of Gore, Underlines of Misogyny, Underlines of Sexism and Inappropriate Behaviour

Pairing: Lawyer! Jimin x Prosecutor! Female! Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers, Crime/Mystery

(1/?)

Word Count: 3.7k

[This Park Is Greener Than Others Mini Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Summary: You were given the okay to start your investigation and build your case when a young woman was brutally murdered in a motel room, the main suspect being her ex-boyfriend. You have your suspect, you have your witnesses and you have your evidence. All you have to do now is present your case, right? Of course, it would’ve been easy if a certain Park hadn’t appeared when you got everything figured out. Not only does he bring turmoil to your case but to your heart as well.

Notes: For those who have been following me for a little over seven months... you guys remember me posting this but never finishing it? Cause that’s excaltly what I did. But now, I have some spare time on my hands so why not finish it. It’s been a hot minute since I posted BTS content too. For those who’s read the first chapter, it’s completely different now :) with a new plot and added characters and better writing (ish... it’s like 4 am LMAO). I’ll be tagging @armytinyzenmoa​ @threeletterslife​ and @totally-real-bts-quotes​ because they were in my original tag list. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is a work of fiction and solely fiction. Any of the idols written and mentioned in this series would never take part in these actions, let alone stand by/condone them. The idols mentioned are merely used as characters and in no way am I saying that this is how they act in real life.

This will contain blood, gore, death, injuries and anything else of that sort because we are diving into the “police/trial” world with this fic. Reading is at your own discretion, especially in the next chapters. Again, none of the idols named will never take part in the situations and scenarios, I’m only using them as face claims.

“Doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t even matter what he says. You know better than to take his testimony.”

“But that’s the thing you don’t get,” you spoke into the phone, nodding your head to the person who opened the door for you as you walked into the precinct. “One, we need his testimony in order to know his flawed side of the story,” you shrugged. “Whether we get his testimony or not, the case is pretty much set in stone. Whatever he says won’t change the outcome.”

“You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

“I’m doing so right now,” you chuckled, throwing the empty cup of coffee in the trash. You pressed the phone towards your ear, his voice getting more and more frustrated. 

“He isn’t going to budge. The guy isn’t stupid.”

“Maybe,” you nodded, “but he’ll have to talk eventually, whether with me or at the trial. Even if he doesn’t say anything now, there has to be some sort of record of him saying something we can use.”

Walking through the second set of double doors, you were immediately met with the buzzing of cellphones, chatters from various conversations but the television, which was switched to the news channel, was the loudest among all the noise.

“Latest news today; Lim Area, age twenty-three pharmacist and a good samaritan was found dead in an occupied room at the Dark Blues Motel around ten last night. Police have arrested a person at the scene of the crime, no further details have been released to the public. Police are asking anyone with information to come forward or contact crime stoppers.”

“You heard the news,” you asked your partner, settling in line in front of the registration and visitors section.

“Yeah, it’s everywhere, the media doesn’t let us fucking breath,” he agreed with you, “still don’t understand why the court decided to put a rush on this one. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“The court with does what the court wants,” you sighed in defeat, “just means that we need to gather as much info as we can and work our asses off before the trial Monday.”

“Gives us an entire week to prepare. Alright, I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the call, you immediately felt dozens of eyes land on either your hair, your attire or your badge secured in your dress pants’ front pocket. It’s not like you hated the attention; you were just getting it for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t something you could control, someone either always wanted you for their own advantages or your body, that’s how you feel right now with a couple of hungry eyes roaming you up and down.

The line was long but was shortening rather quickly. The frequent sound of squeaking shoes irked your ears; since it was just raining outside, most didn’t have umbrellas to keep them dry. Thankfully, the sun was now out and brimming through the windows of the department, a dull but bright layer of sunlight shining on the side of your face, highlighting your breathtaking features. You glanced around the lobby of the police division, earning glances from the officers exiting the building. You chuckled under your breath and ran a hand through your hair, a smug grin on your lips. 

“In other news, Seoul’s prosecutor’s office releases a new statement in regards to yesterday’s incident with one of their top prosecutors, apologizing for the quoted “misunderstanding”.”

“Next,” the voice that spoke was loud and gruff, yet when you lifted your eyes, you were met with a man younger than you, one you’ve never seen before, waiting impatiently for you to approach the counter. He seemed to ponder on your body a lot longer than the other visitors, who all happened to be male, before clearing his throat. “Reason for your visit?”

“Classified.” You uttered, opening your phone and shooting the sergeant a text. “Just call the head of the department, he knows why I’m here.” 

Even if you were here quite frequently, you will never not be mesmerized by the allure of the department; the walls were a light brown-gold colour with the counter being a light black colour, adding lure when looking around. The walking space was vast, understandable since this was one of the biggest precincts in the capital. The walls were decorated with alumni and fallen officers who passed in combat, the rest was decorated with a waiting room were more than thirty people can sit at a time without it becoming crowded.

“Reason for your visit.”

You raised your eyebrows at his awfully harsh tone, “I already said; classified.”

“Miss, don’t make me ask again. Unless you’re registered on the list, I can’t let you in.”

“You must be new here, right?” The man quickly stopped talking, arms folded over his chest. Your fingers typed away the last few words before stuffing your phone in your pocket, alerting your partner that you’d pass by the office later with, hopefully, new information. When you lifted your eyes to look at the rookie, you focused on his name tag. You noticed the small shirt in his eyes at which you rolled your eyes.

“Minhyun, is it?” You leaned onto the counter, taking off your sunglasses and smirked. “Listen, kid, if you looked at the list in front of you and turned to the next page, you’ll see an entire slot that has big bold red letters that scream ‘classified’. I’m on that list, number 500462.”

“A video of one of their top prosecutors, prosecutor Song (Y/n), was released to the public earlier this morning explaining the near scandal she was in early this week.”

Out of all the times the news broadcast could be saying your name, they chose now. The scandal wasn’t even a scandal, you accidentally brushed your hand on a high ranking officer during a charity event and people took it the wrong way. Of course, it cleared up when things were getting out of hand but people were so quick to judge you without hearing what you have to say.

“Oh!” He quickly dropped the piles of paper on the desk, flashing you a smirk, “of course, how could I forget such a well-known detective?”

“Prosecutor.”

He shrugged, “same thing.” 

Of course, when you tell people who you are, they’d always change their attitude towards you, just like the male you had the dishonourable pleasure of talking to. Even if you were known and your office was extremely popular for putting numerous criminals behind bars, it gave no one the right to treat you any different and with chivalry.

It was quite annoying and one of the many reasons why you hated travelling from one location to another; not only did you introduce yourself time and time again, people were so quick to change their entire personality as a way to impress you.

“Dinner? Or are you lunch kind of girl?” You clenched your jaw when his hand slid across the counter to touch yours, almost intertwining your fingers together. Pulling your hand back, you gripped your handbag tighter as his smirk grew larger, his green eyes lighting up at your somewhat uncomfortable expression. “Oh, is the prosecutor shy?”

“Yes, actually,” you sighed in a sweet voice as you watched him getting closer, leaning over the desk to listen to your frail and vulnerable voice. “I’m really, really not shy for putting your ass in fucking jail if you don’t stop acting like a sexual predator.” Grabbing the collar of his uniform, you slammed him against the table, picked up a pen behind the counter and signed your name in the visitors’ chart. 

“Word of advice,” you whispered into Minhyun’s ear, a twisted innocent smile on your lips. “When you’re talking to anyone, especially to a woman with more power than nearly anyone in this fucking precinct, I’d suggest you not only think about your predatorial words but keep your eyes where I can see them.”

You left the room and made your way towards the detective’s hall, a specific hallway for promoted police officers who finally had the chance of making detective. The multiple gazes on your back made your skin crawl but your face stayed completely blanket, the occasional lip tilt when you head Minhyun groaned when he got up from the desk.

You’ve always wanted to be a prosecutor; to you, putting dangerous people behind bars was one of the most rewarding things someone could do (of course, it depends on what the individual has done). However, you weren’t expecting so much sexism in the work field, especially when someone is fighting for the same goal as everyone else. 

You also considered before a detective, so Minhyun wasn’t entire wrong but still acted horribly. Most of the detectives were older, a lot stricter and hardworking individuals who took their jobs seriously. More than you? Maybe, but that was only in some cases. You didn’t even like the older detectives, a lot of them were full of themselves and thought they were the best when in reality, they really were horrible. 

Though, you couldn’t say the same about the newest generation.

Your heels clicked on the white tiles as you made it to the end of the blue hall, knocked a few times before opening the door to the room and inviting yourself in. The room had five desks loaded with a computer, a desk, an office chair and stationery. You knew what it was for, they were new recruits. However, only two had nameplates on them.

New blood, much more passionate than the older generation. You knew who some they were, having seen them a couple of times while running errands. They were fairly young too, around the same age you started but still really young to be named detective. To be really technical, however, only two of them are detectives, the rest are still working their way up to that level.

You let yourself into the office and walked straight for the folder lying on one of the desks, sitting on the spinning chair and skimming through the files. They weren’t any case reports of any sort, it was specifically the case of the trial you’ve been appointed to, the one that was happening in less than a week.

Usually, you’d have a minimum of two weeks to work on the witness reports, the examination, gathering the evidence etc. But for some reason, the crown decided to rush this case, giving you less than a week to prepare. You only had today and tomorrow to do your initial investigating before you need to piece together a timeline, gather your evidence and have a listing of your witnesses. It wasn’t stressful, at least to you, but you wondered why it happened so suddenly, why did the court decide to give you such little time?

You started reading the files in the folder, fully immersed in the information you currently have; 

The victim (same on mentioned on the news): Lim Aera, 24, pharmacy student.

Description: Back hair, blue eyes, Asian and Caucasian descent, 5”7, 123 lbs.

Killed in a booked room in Dark Blues Motel, right across from the Michelin star restaurant which is famous for its dangerous knives, fire and item throwing skills. 

It is believed that the victim’s boyfriend killed her for a reason still unknown.

Forensics concluded that she died between 9:30 pm and 10:00 pm.

The main cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head (instant), signs of strangulation and struggle are shown based on the marks on her neck, ears, wrists, knuckles and ankles, the room was also in a mess when found.

“...he said she walked into here but I don’t see her.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, the door is open.” 

The door opened with two pairs of footsteps walked into the room, the door shutting behind them. You didn’t bother glancing at them, only closing the file and getting up, “I’m guessing the sergeant sent you both to bring me towards the suspect.” One of the males nodded his head from which you saw from the corner of your eyes. You shouldn’t leave stuff like this unattended, especially if the door is unlocked. It risks liability if someone ever decided to tamper with the information, alright?”

“Got it, prosecutor.”

You finally looked at the two, your eyes slightly widening to seeing them in their uniforms, looking a lot older than they are. The first one looked slightly younger, only because his eyes looked more innocent than the other, he was slightly taller as well. His black hair was completely different from his partner’s blue hair but somehow created a favourable contrast and a way to differentiate them from each other. The one with blue hair was just shorter than the other but also older, whether it was because of his sharp features or the way he stood, you couldn’t figure it out. Or maybe it was the busted lip. Despite that, they had a friendly feeling to them, a lot less cold and sudden than their first impression of you. You knew they were the new detectives, which would explain the plates on two of the desks.

“Tell me, which one of you is Soobin?” Both men look up, slightly startled by the mention of the leader’s name. You chuckled under your breath while getting up, finding their reaction a little cute. “It says so on the nameplates, so I’m just asking.”

“Oh,” the taller one cleared his throat and stuck his hand out, “I’m Soobin, this is Yeonjun.” You shook his hand when you made your way over to them. 

“Heard a lot of the both of you,” you mentioned as you pull your bag further up your shoulder. “Both graduated high school and the academy a few years in advance right? Which is why you guys are detectives now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Yeonjun nodded his head while opening the door, “we’re now waiting for the other three to rank up and we’ll have our unit, or that’s what the boss says.” Humming and thanking the blue-haired male for opening the door for you, you followed Soobin down the hallway towards the interrogation room. 

You remembered when you were like them; young and so full of passion and exhilarant. It’s not like you’re saying that you don’t have those anymore but your passion turned into a craze for winning each and every case, it all happened right after your first win. You fell into a downhill spiral of wanting total control of how things were done that you became more and more bossy and snarky when talking to others. You tried to hide it but sometimes it’ll be beyond your own control.

“Do you guys know anything else about the victim?”

“She has a boyfriend,” you nodded despite already knowing the valuable piece of information, “this was only uncovered when we went through her phone, which was unlocked at the scene of the crime.”

“Her phone was already unlocked?” You asked Soobin, “was it planted?”

“We don’t know,” the younger of the two admitted, “whoever did it, whether it was planned or not contributed to the investigation because the last thing she posted on her Instagram was a picture of her and her boyfriend.”

“Who’s in custody right now,” concluded Yeonjun.

When the three of you got to the interaction hallway, Soobin opened a door and you quickly stepped inside, immediately capturing the image of the suspect in Lim Aera’s case as well of Kim Namjoon, sergeant of the department and chief of the new unit of young detective that’ll be forming in some time.

You immediately put your bag on the table and sit on the desk, crossing your legs as you rummage through the folder, rummaging through multiple files before landing on the one you were searching for. “How long have they been talking?”

“About fifteen minutes,” said Soobin, standing in front of the two-way mirror with his arms crossed. “But the guy’s stubborn, really stubborn.”

“I’m not going to ask again and no, it’s not a game.” You heard Namjoon sign from the other side of the room, a speaker connected so you could hear them but they couldn’t you. “I have two of my men see you leaving the scene of the crime with blood on your shirt and hands, not only that but you didn’t comply with their orders. You can come clean right now and I can bargain à tell with the prosecutor taking your case.”

“When he said ‘his men’, what does he means by?” 

“Soobin and I are the ones who apprehended him,” Yeonjun answered your question while sitting on top of the table, next to you. He ran a hand through his hair before straightening his blue and black uniform. “We were eating at the Michelin star restaurant across the motel we were walking back to Soobin’s car, we saw this man, the one in there right now, covered in blood.”

Turning towards you, Soobin continued, looking at you through the reflection. “At first, we thought he was hurt until we got a report of a suspect that matched his exact description so we chased him down, fought a little before apprehending him.”

Chuckling, you pointed at Yeonjun’s lip, “Is that why your bottom lip’s busted?”

Before he even responds, a loud thump emitted from the other room, making all your heads snapping to see what was happening. 

Kim Taehyung, age twenty-four, the primary suspect in the murder of Lim Aera, aggressively bangs the table at which his cuffed, unable to get up without removing them. Both rookie detectives straighten their posture as you listen in to their conversation.

“I already fucking told you, I didn’t do shit and I didn’t kill her! Why do you think it’s me?” 

Taehyung had beautiful blonde hair and bright brown eyes, his face resembling one of a model. His eyes, however, held so much frustration and anger while his neck and ears turn red. The man wasn’t unknown to the system; he had multiple priors and a criminal record as a teenager. Even if he served his time and hasn’t done anything too illegal to put him behind bars again, he does do street racing, is the ringleader of multiple underground and sold pills to struggling teenagers.

Although, that’s what the rumours say. They’re only whispers of what he’s doing now but no one has concrete proof of what he does in his spare time.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon, who was already started to get frustrated, leaning onto the table, chin resting on his knuckles. “You have priors, you have a long record. Do you really think people are going to ignore that, especially since you’re her boyfriend?”

“Ex.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes widening slightly as you took note, “Did he just saw ex?”

With a clenched jaw, Soobin muffled, “yeah.”

“We broke up four months ago,” the young male grumbled under his breath, looking away from the sergeant, “she has a new boyfriend, two months actually, she just never posts about it.”

“Motive.” Talking to yourself, you grabbed your phone and sent a text message to your partner. While doing so, you addressed the detectives, “when this is done, see if you guys can find his Instagram, Twitter or even Facebook. Anything that looks out of the ordinary in the last four months, keep it.”

“Got it, boss,” Soobin nodded while glancing at Yeonjun, “contact his friends too, they might know something we don’t and it might help us later on.”

“I’m going to do that and try to find her boyfriend and bring him in for questioning.”

Both rookies left the room, discussing their plan for the next few hours. You smiled softly, satisfied with the work they’re completing and, at the same time, overviewing the case in order to fix loose ends. You had faith in the two, as well as the three who are waiting to be promoted.

“Do you know why?”

Taehyung was an interesting man; even if he’s saying he’s innocent, he doesn’t want to cooperate with the authorities, which is the last thing anyone should do if they’re one-hundred percent innocent. Is he hiding something? If yes, what? And why? Is it worth it and risk yourself going to jail?

“As if I’m telling you.” Taehyung scoffed under his breath, “I want a lawyer. I already have one so just contact him. I’m not speaking anymore.” You were going to protest that you didn’t get a chance to talk to the suspect yet when Minhyun, the male from earlier, knocked on the door where Namjoon was and informed him that Taehyung’s lawyer just got here.

Even if you did grumble under your breath, perhaps you could talk to his lawyer and strike a deal. It would be challenging, especially if the lawyer is just as stubborn as you or even worse. Whether it included stubbornness or not, you knew that lawyers always wanted the best for their clients. A way to do that is to work with the prosecution and strike the best deal for their client.

You grabbed your bag and walked out the second form to the investigation you, running a tired hand through your hair.

Only for you to stop once you turn to face the entrance and see one person you never expected you’d see again.

His eyes seemed the widen when his gaze fell on you, the very same expression plastered on his face as you clench your jaw, anger clouding your thoughts. He hated even changed a bit, with the exemption of getting taller but you didn’t that you’d go up against him, again.

You didn’t think he’d walk back into you’re life, again.

Not only that but he’s your one-way ticket to hell if you can’t prove that Kim Taehyung is the killer, the one that killed Aera.

Of course, someone has to ruin your plans.

And that someone had to be Park Jimin.

--

Taglist:  @armytinyzenmoa​​ @threeletterslife​​ and @totally-real-bts-quotes​​

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[yandere-wishes]

Payment // Twisted Wonderland Yandere! Azul Ashengrotto x Reader//

Just in time for the Octavinelle chapter! I felt like making Azul suffer for a little so there is a bit of angst in here, also thank you so much to the anon who requested this story!

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The knocking on his door jolted Azul awake from his nap. His head sprung up eyes wide surveying the layout of his office. When had he fallen asleep? The clock read 6:30 in the afternoon, yet from what he could see the moon had already risen illuminating his office with a ghostly glow. He pinched the bridge of his nose standing up and sighing. How improper of him to fall asleep while reviewing contracts as well as his school work. The knocking continued, it began to echo around the room reverberating off the insides of his skull wedging its self into his brain. louder louder!LOUDER! He marched over to the door ready to send whoever it was on their way. He was too fatigued for pleasantries and politeness. He pulled the door wide open, mouth ajar ready to yell....he never did.There stood (Y/N), eyes bloodshot fresh tear stains tattooed over her cheeks. "I want a contract right now!" she yelled pushing past him, stomping into the office and plumbing down on one of the satin white couches. Her shoulders were slumped, she looked so weak and vulnerable. Azul quickly followed behind her, headache and unfinished work long forgotten. He slipped into the seat beside her, gloved hands gently rubbing her back. Upon the physical contact, she quickly straightened her back. The popping of joints and bones roared over the quiet room. She tried to wipe away her tears, trying to keep the new ones at bay. "He..hesaidhe... he" Her words slurred together, sticking into an incomprehensible phrase. What had happened to her? Azul's mind started falling down a sprawling rabbit whole, listing all the possible horrible things that some mongrel could have done to his precious, innocent, sweet (y/n)...No..they weren't his...they'd never been his...Azul continued rubbing circles over (y/n)'s back, his warm touch sent a caused (y/n)'s sobbing to an almost full stop, her posture relaxed practically melting into his touch. An easy silence blanketed the office, Azul's heart began to speed up. He'd never been this close to her, never touched her before. The moment felt perfect, like the gentle tide washing over his body on a bright sunny day...yes this was just like those rare blissful days back at the Sea of Corals when he'd been permitted to leave his lonely cave. "I want a contract...." Your brittle voice fragmented the irie hush. Azul's blue gaze dropped to the tiled floor, why were you so insistent on that tonight. What could you possibly want so badly that you were willing to make a deal with the devil? Azul's gesture stopped, arm dropping to the couch. "....Why?" It was unlike him to question why someone wanted a contract, he would just provide the pen and paper and smile his signature glowing grin. But something about you made him act like a dame fool. "I-I want..." You couldn't utter a single word without tearing up. What was going on! "Please" Azul leaned over, taking your small hands in his "Just tell me" his tone was too caring unfit of a sea which such as himself. "I want Malleus to love me!" You blurted out, a sharp edge engraved in your tone. Azul's heart sped up ready to break his ribcage, wanting to leave his body and beach it's self like a depressed whale.  You loved...Malleus, Malleus of all people! The moody always complaining prince of the fae. The prized child of NRC. Azul never cared much for the admiration and praise that everyone threw at his feet, but hearing that the dark fae had stolen your heart shattered his. Malleus had everything so why did he have to take the only thing Azul loved? WHY!He was desperate to say no, to shout it, to scream it until his throat went raw. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he would always love you. Unlike that arrogant fae who never thought of anything but himself, who was always in a bad mood for the most ridiculous reasons! But alas, Azul's mouth was a graveyard the words dying on his tongue before they got to breathe an ounce of air. His grip tightened hoping that his touch might just relay what he wanted to say. "Azul" his dishearted gaze rose to meet yours, it was his turn to look frail and broken in dire need of assistance. "Can you please make senior Malleus fall in love with me?" It hurt, it hurt so awfully! It felt like a thousand piranhas were biting every inch of his flesh, some had even infiltrated his skull, munching off chunks of his brain. He closed his eyes and sigh "I...I don't know...it could take a few days to find everything...I'll let you know by tomorrow..." The answer would still be no by tomorrow it would always be no. But he couldn't tell you that tonight not when you where so beaten and sad...when you couldn't utter a word without breaking down in tears. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly as you buried your face in his chest, soaking up the sea salt scent that he dragged everywhere. Azul stiffened, lazily curling and arm around your back and patting it. "Thank you...Thank you so much" your tears began to flow again staining his powder blue vest. In his mind, Azul noted to never wash that vest again.Early the next morning Jade found his dorm leader passed out on the couch in his office. His glasses had fallen on the floor somehow still intact. His short silver hair was a mess. His school jacket had been discarded over his desk along with his shoes, one being placed neatly under the table while the other rested on its side over his jacket. "Boss?" The older twin was dumbfounded by the sight in front of him. Azul Ashengrotto, the well-kept deal maker of the school looked like a pathetic manta ray. "Boss!" Nope, nothing. With a sigh, Jade walked over to the couch, he grabbed the sweaty fabric of Azul's white button-up and forcefully swung him forward. "Azul!!" this was the loudest sternest tone he'd ever used on his dorm leader, the fear of what he may do to him washed over Jade causing him to break into a nervous sweat. Gradually the silver-haired second year's eye blinked open, he ran a hand over his face as he groaned loudly. "Time" He grumbled while cracking his neck from side to side. "Past eight am, classes start in ten...god what the hell happened to you last night?" For a minute Azul's mind blurred, the events of last night too distant and foreign to properly recall. The then it hit him like a typhoon, everything (y/n) had said, how she'd been such a mess, how she'd ask her help on the only matter he wished she hadn't."(Y/N)? The first-year who's in the ramshackle dorm?" A crease formed between Jade's brows, his mouth morphing into a scowl. "Is she refusing to pay? I'll send Jade to have a little chat with her, if that's the case." His fingers dove into his pocket fishing out his cellphone, he scrolled through look for his twin's number. "Put it away" Azul ordered, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, mumbling a couple of curses. "BUT!.." Jade's eyes widen, why was Azul acting so weird today? "Look.." The silver-haired man grabbed his coat slipping from under his right shoe. "It's not that she wasn't paid, heck she hasn't even signed the dame contract yet and frankly  I don't want her to!" The older leech twin stiffened, his mismatched eyes surveyed the office look for any signs of alcohol or party pills. That was the only reasonable explanation for why Azul was being so uncharacteristic. Azul marched back to the couch after having slipped on both shoes, he flopped down on his stomach dramatically letting out a high pitch cry. He angled his head to the side to stare up at his dormant, ocean blue eyes fogged with grief like a kicked seal. "I...I think...I love...her" even Azul couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth. He was notorious for his scheming and cunning nature being capable of getting whatever he wanted. Yet here he was moaning and groaning over a girl, a simple magicless darling girl.Jade was beginning to get slightly irritated, his dorm leader the great and powerful Azul was acting like a lovesick school girl. Reluncity he took a seat next to the Cecaelia, he began patting his back the way one would a small child. "The way I see it, you have the advantage here." Jade paused waiting for his words to sink in. Azul simply shifted his orbs to stare directly into Jade's golden ones. "How so" he murmured. "Why not provide her with a love potion. They are simple to come by and rather cheap in the noir market. In return for your services, she'll provide you with a pact to her soul. That way it wouldn't matter who she's in love with, she'll always have to return to you." Azul rolled over, curling his lips into a sly smirk.Excitement bubbled inside of you as you ran towards the Octavinelle dorm. You were so close to finally getting your happily ever after! So close to your true love! You pushed the decorative wooden doors open with all your force. "Azul!" Your cheerful voice bounced off the walls of his office reverberating back to you. Your shimmering eyes scanned the large room trying to find the man that held the last key to your happiness. Your sight finally landed on the silver-haired businessman man sat smugly at his desk, head leaning forward on entwined fingers. "(Y/n)! you finally made it my dear." He seemed to perk up upon seeing you a charming smile grazing his lips. You quickly ran over to the organized desk, slamming your hands on the oak wood you joyously yelled"Do you have it?!" "Yes right here--"You ripped the contract parchment from his hands and, using a golden fish skeleton pen you found on the desk you started to write the first letter of your name. 'Wait!" Azul reached out gripping your wrist tightly to prevent you from continuing. "Maybe you should read the fine print..." His voice trailed off never before had he wanted someone to read the fine print before heck he'd talked all so many people out of reading it! "No, no it's fine I'll pay whatever it takes!" You tugged your wrist from his fingers and rapidly scribbled the last few letters. You stood up straight reaching your hands out to Azul for him to drop whatever contraption he had conjured to help Malleus accept your confession. The sea witch tossed you a tiny glass bottle with a sickening pink like liquid inside. "Mix that into some chocolates or a drink or whatever you are going to give him, just make sure he eats it." You laughed as tears of joy slipped from the corners of your eyes. Spinning on your heels you dashed the door before Azul's voice stopped you dead in your tracks. "Aren't you forgetting your payment?"You turned with a frown on your face. "I-I um didn't bring anything with me, just tell me what it is you want and I'll go get it!" but Azul just shook his head and signaled with his finger for you to come back. Disheartedly you walked back to the desk, as you did so, Azul slipped a reflective colored oval into his mouth. As you stepped closer he grabbed your upper arm leaning you over his desk as his lips pushed upon your own. His teeth bite harshly into your lip causing you to which and open your mouth a bit, just enough for him to slip his tough in. Your mouth overflew with the taste of salt as something scaly slipped down your throat. As soon as you had swallowed the invasive object, Azul retracted. He clutched your chin with his fingers, tilting your head up. "Jade proposed I charge you a soul-bonding spell, in which your soul would become mine." Upon his words your eyes widen, a cold sweat broke over your body. "But being the saint that I am, I chose to charge you something else." You prayed in your mind that your payment would only be the kiss that whatever he had slipped into your mouth would have just been a joke, but your hope died down as he continued "I chose an attachment spell instead, much more effective and beneficial for the both of us. You can't step further than 12 meters from me or your body will start to morph into that of a tiny little fish. Really it's a gift it aids me in keeping you safe! "Once again tears started to fall from your eyes just like the night before. You're happily ever after shattering before your eyes. Azul let go of your chin and walked over from his desk. He laced his finger with your own and practically dragged you to the door, only stopping to retrieve his hat from the coat rack. "I believe we should get started on those chocolates from Malleus don't you agree? After all, he too should get a taste of what it feels like to want something yet for it to be so out of reach!""But not to worry you, poor unfortunate soul! Now that I have you in my clutch I'm NEVER letting you get away!"

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